zie’s exhibit

That was a dumping ground.

A land that was forgotten by everyone. Under the cloudy sky that looked like it was going to pour down at any moment, a bunch of discarded shipping containers were lying on top of one another just like corpses. The bare soil of the dumping ground was exuding toxic substances due to illegal dumping. Not even a field mouse would dare to approach it. 

A place not on the map. The loneliest place in Yokohama. Close to the center of it, is where Dazai lived. What Dazai lived in was not a house. It was one of the abandoned shipping containers. Inside the big container, that was original used to export passenger cars overseas, was a refrigerator, an exhaust fan, a desk, a chair, a bed, and a bare light bulb. 

No one who knew Dazai would go near it, not even his subordinates in the Port Mafia. It was not just because the place itself was weird. It was because no one could predict how Dazai would react if someone approached his private residence. He might tear off the limbs of the subordinates who come to his house before killing them, or he might also say welcome and offer them tea and sweet. No one could read Dazai’s heart. 

The black ghost of Port Mafia. That’s what Dazai was called. 

It had been one year since he joined the Port Mafia. He commanded a secret unit under the direct control of the Boss and achieved astounding results. He crushed countless organizations, and opened up countless new business channels. That was an incomparable record, not only for the current Mafia members, but also the executives through out the Mafia’s history. Even the performance of Piano Man, the most successful member of the Flags, was nothing but child’s play compared to Dazai’s. 

However, no one trusted Dazai. 

Because the darkness that lied deep inside his eyes, was darker than the jet black of the night that lurked inside the dumping ground. The more he continued his activities in the Mafia, the darker and more incomprehensible he became. He never told anyone the reason. He kept slaughtering enemies and paving the bloody path for the Port Mafia, just like he was driving himself into a corner of a dark place somewhere. 

Tremendous achievements. But there was one person who was not happy about that honor. That was Dazai.

Dazai sat on the round chair inside the container by himself, staring into the darkness. On the desk next to him, his cellphone was ringing. That was from Chuuya. But Dazai won’t pick up. He didn’t even look. He just sat there with his arms folded, staring into the darkness and the door in front of him. 

His eyes were so calm. Those black eyes absorbed all the sounds and lights and let nothing escape. Even his own emotions. The phone stopped ringing as if it had given up, and things became quiet again. That silence seemed to be even deeper and heavier than before the phone rang. In that moment, Dazai’s eyes, that had been staring into the depths of the darkness, twitched.

The front door started to open. 

When the metal door opened slowly, from that direction appeared someone’s figure, covered in the darkness.  

“You have quite a taste for your place to live, Dazai-kun.” The person said with a smooth voice. “Really, what are you afraid of, living in a horrible place like this? Property taxes?”

Dazai’s expression didn’t change one bit. He answered with a rough, emotionless voice. “I am afraid of you, Verlaine-san.”

The person entered the room. That was a tall person. He was wearing a blue suit that could remind people of the sea at night. He has mellow eyes that look like he is entertained by the things in front of him. A black hat. The assassin king, Paul Verlaine.

“You are kidding”, Paul Verlaine said while stepping inside the container. “You are not afraid of anything. I can tell just by looking. Even when I tried to kill you two days ago, you barely felt a thing.”

“I have a rather uncommon opinion when it comes to my own death.” Dazai said, smiling faintly through the corner of his eyes. But those black eyes were absolutely still.

“For an assassin like me, that is definitely not a selling point.” Verlaine shrugged his shoulders. 

Verlaine walked into the room, his leather shoes clacking on the floor. Then he grabbed the papers on the desk. “This is the internal document of the Port Mafia?”

It was a stack of about ten pages of paper. If one were to sell that to another organization, they would get enough money to live and play for their whole three lifetimes. That’s how valuable it is, the document that contains confidential information of the Port Mafia. 

Verlaine shook the stack of papers next to his face. “Two days ago, you said that you would give this to me. That’s why I didn’t kill you. Because I need this for my work. But why? What is it that you want in return? Don’t give me the “Please do not kill me” joke.”

“It’s simple.” Dazai slightly grinned. Then he said with a low voice, just like the groanings one would hear in their nightmares, “I want to see the Port Mafia burn.”

Verlaine’s face turned serious. Then he stared at Dazai, as if he just noticed someone for the first time, even though they have always been there. 

“Isn’t Port Mafia the organization that picked up you and raised you?”, Verlaine asked cautiously after a long pause. 

“That’s right.”

“Then why?”

Dazai definitely heard the question at that moment, but he didn’t answer and remained silent. His gaze was wandering as if he was looking for something that wasn’t there. And then he smiled, a bitter smile that would make anyone who see it want to scream. 

“I’m tired of it.”

Verlaine narrowed his eyes. Those eyes were fixed on Dazai, as if he was trying to search for the other’s true intention. 

Seemingly amused by that look, Dazai took a glance at Verlaine and said to himself, “In the end, I couldn’t find anything.”

…