Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs & Related Fandoms
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences (13+)
Archive Warnings: Creator Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Categories: Gen | M/M
Relationships: Implied relationaships, “Oda Sakunosuke/Dazai Osamu” OR “Oda Sakunosuke & Dazai Osamu”
Characters: Oda Sakunosuke, Dazai Osamu, Assorted Bungou Stray Dogs characters
Additional Tags: Modern AU, No power, Dazai-typical suicides attemps, School AU, possibly Out of character, angst, hurt & comfort, triggers warning in Translator’s notes, Originally written in Chinese, No beta we die like men, no seriously I am waiting for my beta(s)
Disclaimer: Bungou Stray Dogs and characters et al. belong to respective owners which are not me. The plot and everything else belong to the original author aka 阿雀, please check out their blog if you are curious and love Odazai and want to read more and cannot wait for my translation.
If you want to use my English translation of this story as source to translate to another languague, please do not forget to ask the original author first (if you don’t know Chinese, tell me since I would be glad to help).
Author: 阿雀
Original source: 何が僕たちの命を贯いた
This is a draft translation, I intentionally formatted it for AO3 posting (which will happen later after I work with my betas).
The permission to translate the story is kindly granted by the author, please do not repost this translation anywhere without my permission.
Constructive criticism is welcome.
Dear your Honorable,
Mister [ ■■ ].
If you receive this letter, thus it is proved.
Today, I decide to depart this life.
“Oda, I’ve heard that you applied to be the manager for the old library, thought it was Ango’s job?”
“Yeah. It’s actually because of school inter-department transfer, Ango now works at Department of Special. According to Mr. Mori, I will temporary take over his work there.”
“Oh, trainee teachers like us are always transferred around to take over these troublesome jobs.” The man had a helpless expression, plaintive “To work with books, although it seems like boring job, but it may be the work for people like you—honest and a man of few words.”
“Is it really…?”
“Because you, Oda, will not do such thing as complain, even though you are pushed to troublesome work, you will not refuse other people. That is exactly why you become the most suitable candidate for this job.”
I thought about what he said, possibly, it kind of made sense.
However, back to work, on certain perspective, I didn’t think myself as suitable for the job involving book as I might think.
The old library was on the fifth floor of the old teaching building. It was said that teacher had repeatedly asked the school to stop using the old teaching building, but the school refused since there was no space for furniture and supplies, eventually they changed the old teaching building to storage facilities. Old library was kept. Think about it, if books were thrown away just because there was not enough space for storage, it would be quite sad.
So you were asked to sort and categorise the books, mark the book code, find the missing volumes, create records for better transferring to the new library in the future. It’s quite simple and undemanding.
I was told that, yet when I actually see the huge collection, I still suspired, for this job was not to be underestimated.
There was seemingly nothing but layers and layers of dust or piles and piles of books—enough to build a whole world. Even the sunlight was blocked by the thick linen curtains. Under this enigmatic air of oppression, I unconsciously lightened my breath as well as my steps, feared to awake those Gods who were sleeping in the wheel of time.
That being said, it was still a miraculous feeling. I do not dislike it.
I wandered along the book-made corridors, gently took out a book and cleaned the dust on the cover. Under the dim light, it looked roughly like a collection of certain post-modern philosophy school.
Why did all these curtains in the library closed? The old teaching building had been left to disrepair for years, lights were no longer working. It was nice to be quiet in the library, however, lacking light would cause some levels of inconveniences for those who wanted to read or work here.
“Cough cough.” This aging place seriously needed to be cleaned and ventilated.
Covering my face, I coughed and pushed the book into my flank. Without thinking, I stepped to the nearest window.
“Please do not open—” the voice rang suddenly near.
I turned my head in surprise.
The inconspicuous one, whose even breaths seemed to be imperceptible, was like free roaming shadow in darkness—he was lying in the narrow passages between bookshelves, leaning on the neatly stacked cabinets without an ounce of shame, entire body as flexible as a cat confined in this tiny space, an open book was pressing between his chest and knees.
It felt like this kind of unique temperament an integrated part of the whole library, inseparable. If not for the faint sound of pages turning, people would rarely notice his presence.
“You…”
“I loathe the sunlight, please do not open the curtains—” adamant words and yet with such lazy tone.
“Would it be inconvenience for your reading?” I asked.
“I am not reading. I know every single word of this book by heart. To be precise, I am sleeping.” Holding his face with one hand, another hand gracefully curled the book pages. This inflexible attitude, he did not have a single thread of caring for anything around.
From his clothes, I could make a safe guess that he was a student skipping classes.
“Sorry I interrupted your lunch break.”
“…”
The book was closed with a snap. At the moment, he finally turned his longing gaze away from the book and onto me. But instead of longing, that eyes looked so emptied nothing could leave a chase of reflection. They glued to me like they were scrutinizing something.
“You are new? Such a pity, I thought I could jump on Ango… So, what’s your name?”
“Oda Sakunosuke.” The answer came easily.
“Odasaku… such a weird—”
What were he exclaiming about? I couldn’t follow for a moment.
“About what?”
“Nothing. It’s just a feeling, you are different from them.”
Them? I recalled the whole conversation in my head.
“Alright. So was you the one drawing the curtains?”
“Yep, quite rare to be lazy around here.” He held his book under the elbow and fumbled to stand up, not minding the dust falling all over him.
“So that’s it.” I stared at him, “However, I still have one question. Why do you pick this old library?” His long messy side bang covered the expression, “Why?”, through passing images, I still caught a glimpse of his smirk, “because of the smell here.”
“Smell? Is it the smell of storytelling?” Squinting my eyes, I examined him; all his wrists and neck were covered in weird white bandages.
“Yes, the smell of books.” He swayed his way toward me, “The unparalleled smell of loneliness and bitterness in books.” Words flowing out of that moving lips was like as melodic as poetry.
He moved closer and closer, to the point when the distance between us completely vanished; leaning over delicately and skilfully, his warm figure pressed over my body. His ever-faint breaths gently touched my earlobe.
“It’s the same smell from your body.”
Swoosh—
Suddenly the curtains hanging around were lift by small gust of wind. He extended his hand and pushed open the window behind me. The aging rusty air now felt similar to a tsunami; it rushed outside like a roaring wild beast.
On the contrary, through the lens filled with specks of light and dust, I could clearly catch his deep earthy eyes.
I didn’t dare to act aggressively, too scared to chase off butterfly on his face.
“It is the smell of tobacco, isn’t it?” I asked softly. Although I was still doubtful, it was quite rare to describe the similarities between the smell of a person and the smell of books. Even if I hadn’t known the smell of book.
“Who knows.” With face rearranging to a smile, he sighed, then deliberately pulled away.
When our bodies separated, he took out the philosophy book in my arms, such overindulgence. After the unwanted exchange, the book in my arm now was, if not mistaken, possibly, the book in his arm earlier.
My eyes could not focus on the text at all. My mind suddenly went blank; when I finally regained my senses, I felt my thoughts running dull and an unmistakably pain spreading the nerves.
This is one “Complete Suicide Manual”.
His name was Dazai Osamu. Infamous for distinctively outstanding results yet absolutely lacklustre efficiency, he was quite a well-known student in this school. Of course, what I knew of him was much less than anyone else, only limited to those unsuccessful suicide attempts.
I was not so involving in that, after all, it was not in my job descriptions.
Thus, the situation now, including everything happened thereafter, were completely unexpected, such a joke made by none other but gods.
[end part 1]
Translator’s notes: Odasaku used a lot of flowery words in this story, this is intentional. I tried my best to keep the poetry flow in the original; some nuances just couldn’t be help but lost in translation, especially between Chinese and English. Admittedly it might be easier for me to translate the story to Vietnamese, but I’m impatient to wait for my betas so here we are.
The original story is completed, and the translation is divided to five parts total; it is still a work in progress, but I am confident I could finish them soon.
Dead Erlkönige Society 