Could you not come any closer? It stinks!"
Ango leans his elbows against the table, speaking with a look of displeasure on his face.
Dazai and I have not spoken a word, merely standing at the entrance, unmoving. A strange silence falls upon the accounting firm's secret room.
By word of mouth, I've learnt that the youth is a newcomer by the name of Sakaguchi Ango. But this is the first time I've been able to put name to face.
Dazai and I look at each other.
Indeed, Dazai and I are covered in a strong, foul stench because we had just returned after finishing a job. That is the smell of petroleum, rust, and blood. My nose had long given up relaying this information to my brain.
At that time, the Dragon's Head Rush had just gotten into full swing. There hasn't been a night where gunshots don't ring through the streets, where fresh blood isn't mixed in the sewer waters. Bodies of gang members are piled high. As for the military police, there isn't enough manpower to stop the fighting, let alone go down to the scene to carry out forensic analyses.
Dazai and I had been ordered by the higher ups to handle the corpses of Port Mafia members who had died fighting. This involved taking photos of the corpses and reclaiming their belongings. If these items were to fall into the hands of the police, they would be classified as evidence under the Organised Crime Prevention Act and cause trouble.
Having said that, this isn't a job that one puts their heart into during times of fighting. On top of that, the site of the gunfight is situated in Yokohama's concession's waste disposal site. The police would not approach a place where sludge and industrial waste has been dumped illegally, much less the residents nearby.
Because of that, Dazai and I are covered in dirt and sludge from head to toe. The stench we are covered in is so strong that stray cats in a one kilometre radius would run away.
"It stinks to the point of wanting to cut one's nose off," Dazai once said on the job, his face scrunched up.
Ango took one glance at us, speaking in a rude tone.
"After you place the items from the corpses on the table, step back, and please do not speak before I ask questions."
We do as he says.
"You're new, right?" Dazai opens his mouth. "Apologies, could I use the washroom? As you have already pointed out, our bodies are very smelly-"
"I already said, please do not talk."
Ango interrupts Dazai. Dazai falls silent, mouth agape, interrupted words left hanging.
Although he looks no different from a youth, at that time, Dazai was already the strongest candidate for the next executive. Even though he's a newcomer at the accounting firm, Dazai is not someone who can be rejected or told to "shut up".
From the bags that we handed to him, Ango retrieves the collected items and inspects them one by one - identity cards, keys, watches, knives, and guns. Following the photos we had taken, he records them on the books one by one.
I don't know what Ango is doing. I always thought that once the deceased's name was confirmed, their belongings would be burned and discarded. What is this newcomer doing, checking them one by one and recording them?
"What are you doing?" I enquire curiously.
"I've already said, please do not talk." Ango replies as he shakes his notebook. "Can't you tell from looking? I'm making records. Isn't that obvious?"
YOU ARE READING
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Hayran KurguDazai osamu and the dark era