Bungo Stray Dogs, Vol. 2

Dazai didn’t realize until then that someone had known him so well

His face was a blank mask now. “It didn’t matter whether you were with the Special Division for Unusual Powers. I always lose the things I don’t want to lose the most. That’s why I don’t feel anything anymore. The moment you get your hands on something worth going after, you lose it. That’s just how things are. There is nothing worth pursuing at the cost of prolonging a life of suffering.”

I ate curry here around three times a week out of pure habit. Habits are peculiar. If I didn’t eat this curry for a few days, my mouth would dry up strangely, and I couldn’t focus.

Dazai’s expression as he placed a finger on his forehead and approached the enemy—that of a child about to burst into tears—remained burned into my eyes

“Please take me with you. Awaken me from this oxidizing world of a dream. Come, now. Shoot.”

It turned out Dazai was right. That ended up being our last opportunity to photograph that invisible something among the three of us—the only thing to make us aware of the void left behind once we lost it. We never got another chance to take a picture together in that bar.

Because one of us died soon after.

That one time when I was caught in the middle of a screaming match between that executive’s wife and lover, I seriously considered biting my tongue off—twice.

That one time when I was caught in the middle of a screaming match between that executive’s wife and lover, I seriously considered biting my tongue off—twice.

That one time when I was caught in the middle of a screaming match between that executive’s wife and lover, I seriously considered biting my tongue off—twice.

That one time when I was caught in the middle of a screaming match between that executive’s wife and lover, I seriously considered biting my tongue off—twice.