Bungo Stray Dogs - Volume 8 Chapter 2 Part 3

I connected to a traffic camera and saw Shirase’s motorcycle speed through a red light and into the residential district. How reckless. But lucky for him—and unlucky for us—he had entered a narrow road with no traffic cameras. I would no longer be able to track him via camera footage.
Master Chuuya and I trampled over hedges, leaped across rooftops, and jumped over utility poles in pursuit of Shirase. Bits of shattered asphalt flew in my wake when I increased my speed.
Both Master Chuuya and I were traveling must faster than the motorcycle by now. This country lacked any pedestrian speed limit—a negligent move on the part of human policy makers. I would never have made such an oversight. If I were a policy maker, there would be laws to catch out-of-control androids.
“I can hear his bike. I’m goin’ on ahead!”
Master Chuuya removed all the gravity pulling his body down and began to float. He then kicked off the side of a building and disappeared into the city. I hurried to catch up. He may be able to manipulate gravity, but my legs are far longer than his. He couldn’t possibly outrun me.
We arrived in a residential area with narrow streets. According to my calculations, I would be able to catch up with the motorcycle within twenty- seven seconds. If Master Chuuya took the front, and I took the rear, then Shirase would have no choice but to give up. Things were going perfectly.
It wasn’t until later when I remembered what the doctor told me: “It will come the moment you think things are going well. The beast known as failure is always drawn to the stench of success, where it finds and devours its unfortunate prey.”
It turned out exactly as she described. When I caught up with Master Chuuya and turned the corner, I heard him shout.
“Tin man, stay back! Hide!”
But it was already too late. By the time I rounded the corner, I saw what was taking place.
I had predicted this might happen. There were a few signs: Shirase’s history; his mission to rebuild the Sheep; how the plant director seemed oddly nervous when he brought Shirase to the reception room; and how quickly the director fled said room.
Shirase was standing in the middle of the intersection. He was completely surrounded…by police vehicles.
“Buichirou Shirase! You’re under arrest for unlawful possession of weapons!”
A stocky officer was pressing Shirase’s head onto the hood of one car. “Let go of me, damn it! I’m gonna be the next king!”
He was struggling, but according to my calculations, he would need thirty-nine others to successfully escape arrest.
“I know you’re out there, Chuuya! One of your lackeys is in trouble,” came a hoarse voice. The speaker was strangely calm considering the situation. “Come on out and save him.”
The man who called out to Master Chuuya emerged from a police car. An unassuming detective who appeared to be in his forties, he wore leather shoes that had lost their shine along with a long dark-green coat that looked like it was part of his body due to being worn for so many years. He seemed light, and his hair was fluffy like wool as it framed his affable smile.
“I’m not his lackey! I’m the king!” Shirase was still struggling to break free.
“Yeah, yeah. That’s enough now, sire. Nobody cares enough about small fries like you, so you’ve got nothing to worry about,” the detective teased while patting Shirase on the head.
Master Chuuya clicked his tongue. “So you were using Shirase as bait the entire time, huh?” he said, making himself visible to the police.
“Hey, how’ve you been, Chuuya? You eating well these days?”
The detective in the dark-green coat opened his arms wide as if he were meeting an old friend, but I sensed that they were not friends.
“You’re not gonna grow big and tall if you don’t eat right, so you better get to it. Oh, and don’t forget to stay in school. You need to think about your future and start saving. No staying out late at night, either. You hear me? Granted, you should have a little fun while you’re still young, though. Oh, and one more thing.” The detective smiled before smacking Shirase. “You need to pick better friends.”
“Mr. Chuuya Nakahara, I would like you to come with us to the station. You’re suspected of conspiring with Mr. Shirase,” stated a young officer who approached Master Chuuya from the side. His expression was stiff with the cold calculation of a machine. Of course, he was still nowhere near the real thing, though.
“Now I get it. This arrest wasn’t just a coincidence, was it?” Master
Chuuya glared sharply at the officer. “So that factory director was one of yours, huh? And you were monitoring Shirase to get to me.”
“Heh. Because, unlike you, this Shirase kid’s nice to old folks like me,” the detective replied as he gave Shirase another light smack. “I mean, he basically handed us evidence of his illegal firearm collection on a silver platter.”
“Bullshit! My plan was perfect! There’s no way you got anything on me…unless…! Chuuya, did you betray me again, you rat?!”
The detective cast a sidelong glance at Shirase, who was whining and struggling. The detective then shrugged.
“See what I mean? I said to choose your friends wisely, didn’t I?”
Master Chuuya sighed. “Detective, I get that he’s guilty and all, but d’you think you could wait another day before you arrest him? We’ve run into a little trouble back at the organization, and I need to protect him today,” he said with a scowl.
The detective listened with a puzzled expression, but he soon cracked a faint smile.
“Don’t worry. We’ll protect him,” he replied. He took out his handcuffs and dangled them next to his head. “He’ll be safe in the cell we’ve got for him. You’re free to tag along if you’re worried, though.”
When the detective signaled with his chin, the other officers forced Shirase into a police car. There was nothing we could do—that was what Master Chuuya’s expression was telling me.
“Damn it…,” he groaned between clenched teeth.
“What does it feel like to be a machine?”
I still remember the doctor’s words clearly.
I could not answer her question that day because being a machine means I have no way to express what it feels like. Machines are extremely level, with no way to be misconstrued, which was why I answered as such. I then asked:
“Doctor, how does it feel to be human?”
The doctor crossed her arms and said nothing. She smiled defeatedly.
What feelings come with being human?
The significance of that question was essentially at the root of this entire incident. Verlaine claimed he was not human, and to him, that was something important enough to flip the world on its head. Being human or not, in his eyes, must have been such a significant and fateful issue that the answer would dictate who he was now and forevermore.
It is so very peculiar. Is being human truly that important? While pondering that to myself, I addressed my master.
“Master Chuuya.” “…”
“Master Chuuya.” “…What?”
“It is your turn. We’re playing the Name Strange Human Traits game.” “…”
He did not respond.
“Then allow me to go first.” I tapped the table a few times. “Hmm… Humans are strange because they become embarrassed when their bodies make sounds other than their own voices: burps, farts, et cetera. It is truly bizarre. Anyway, your turn.”
I tapped the table twice for Master Chuuya, and he looked at me.
“Haaaah…” He sighed. A strange way to respond.
“”Haaaah’? I see. Thank you for your input. I suppose it is my turn again. When the average woman mentions how cute another woman is, in most cases, the woman in question is not cute. Their reasoning for doing this is unknown. When they talk about other women who are actually cute, they say, “She’s a piece of work.’”
Tap, tap.
“Your turn again, Master Chuuya.” “Ughhh…” He let out a lethargic groan.
“Fascinating. Thank you for your reply. Now for my turn: Men always lift the toilet seat when using the restroom. It is a mysterious protocol. Women, however, do not do this. Furthermore, why do men remain standing? Sitting down is far more convenient and prevents any messes. Specifically, uri—”
“Shut up! You’re disgusting!” Master Chuuya shouted.
I curiously tilted my head. “”Disgusting’? I thoroughly cleaned myself ninety-two minutes ago.”
“That’s not what I meant…” He scratched his head. “Argh! Just get me outta here already, damn it!”
We were in the city police’s interrogation room. The moss green walls were stained with cigarette smoke and dust. The screws in each of our chairs’ legs were loose, which caused them to rattle and wobble with even the slightest movement. The desk was covered in scratches, the imprint of someone’s fist, and light water damage most likely from a suspect’s tears.
After voluntarily accompanying the police to the station, Master Chuuya and I were brought to this room and told to wait. While we could escape, leaving without filing the proper paperwork would lead to more trouble later. Therefore, it was perhaps in our best interest to wait for the Port Mafia’s lawyer to arrive.
Additionally, being detained as an investigator turned out to be an extremely valuable and exhilarating experience for me. I was glad I hid my true identity. Thank goodness for our investigation policies.
“I prohibit you from ever asking me to play that game again. Got it?” “Is that an order?”
“You bet your ass it is.”
There was nothing I could do about it, since he used his authoritative powers.
“Very well. I will never play Name Strange Human Traits with you again.”
Master Chuuya looked exhausted as he stared at me. “I’ve never seen ya so disappointed.”
There were no mirrors in the room, so I could not check how I looked. “Sigh… Whatever. Just tell me this: You think the lawyer can get Shirase
released?”
“While possible, it will take a while,” was my honest reply. “I hacked into the database, but Shirase’s home has already been searched. They found and confiscated twenty firearms with the serial numbers filed off. Even the best of lawyers will need a fair amount of time to get him released. Furthermore, Shirase already has a criminal record from when he was in the Sheep. It’s going to be a difficult process, especially since Shirase is not the man the city police are after. They want you. Therefore, I’m sure they plan on using the full forty-eight hours to detain Shirase before sending him to the prosecutor.”
“We don’t have forty-eight hours.” Master Chuuya clenched his fist. “Verlaine could be coming here right now to kill him while we wait.”
He was exactly right. In order to defeat Verlaine, we needed to place Shirase in the middle of our trap as bait. In other words, we needed to ambush Verlaine, a master at ambushing his victims. However, this plan had several prerequisites. We needed time to prepare a place to trap Verlaine, and we also needed Shirase, the bait.
“Wait. Couldn’t your boss or whatever pull some strings and get him out of here?” Master Chuuya leaned forward. “The police here are basically your colleagues in a way, yeah? I mean, your country’s investigation HQ could make some calls and get him released, right?”
“That would save us a lot of time, but…” I shook my head. “It’s not possible. Our treaty prevented that from being an option.”
“What treaty is that?”
I explained the situation. Europole was originally an international law enforcement agency established from a peace treaty at the end of the war with the goal of eliminating international criminals who operated in secret across national borders. However, after the agency became caught up in a postwar multinational power struggle, several restrictions were put in place. Among those restrictions, the rights and sovereignty of the agency’s European member states must never be undermined. Since former enemy nations had worked together to establish Europole, the agency had to be very careful not to infringe upon other nations’ rights except when absolutely necessary. In this specific case, our mission was to arrest Verlaine, a former French intelligence operative who knew many of France’s most confidential state secrets. One mistake in how we handled him could develop into an international scandal. It was also possible that the agent who ended up arresting him might sell the information they learned during their investigation to another country. At the very least, that was France’s greatest concern, hence why they were hesitant to dispatch a
foreign agent.
Europole, meanwhile, was adamant about neutralizing a calamity like Verlaine who was murdering important figures around the world at random. Great Britain was especially disgraced when he assassinated several knights during a coronation ceremony. There was no turning back.
That was why the agency decided to compromise by sending me alone on this mission. After all, I would be able to keep all confidential information to myself, and I would never take any nation’s side for personal gain because that was how I was programmed. Furthermore, whatever information I did learn would be encrypted and stored so it could not be used by other nations.
When Piano Man asked me how I could assure him I was not going to inform European authorities of any Mafia secrets, I replied that I couldn’t tell anyone even if I wanted to. This was why.
“Interesting.” Master Chuuya nodded and crossed his arms. “So you wouldn’t be able to tell anyone about my secrets or the Mafia’s, no matter what you see or hear, huh?”
“Precisely. European authorities cannot influence the Japanese police force either for the very same reason. Legally speaking, I am not investigating anything in Japan. If any other nation’s government agency was to find out about this investigation—about Verlaine, the king of assassins—then they might try to use that information as a bargaining tool with France. After all, Verlaine was almost definitely involved in covert military operations during the war, which would violate strict international wartime laws.”
“And that’s why the police here aren’t gonna help ya, huh?” grumbled Master Chuuya before sighing. “Great. My only ally is a reliable yet worn- out piece of machinery. Eh, I guess it’s better for the Mafia that Yokohama isn’t swarming with European investigators.”
“We also believe that cooperating with a group not trusted by authorities to be a good compromise as well.” I smiled. “The biggest problem at hand is Verlaine’s trap. However, I heard the Port Mafia has the perfect skill user who could help us. Is this true?”
Master Chuuya’s expression instantly changed. He scowled as if he had just swallowed an insect.
“Yeah, it’s true.” His voice rang of bitterness. It sounded as if he would have rather died than admit it. “But I can’t get in touch with him. Whatever. Hope he’s dead in a ditch somewhere.”
“I see.” I, however, believed that we would be in trouble if we lost an ideal player for the mission. “Can you trust this individual?”
“Trust him? No way,” Master Chuuya spat. “He’s a real piece of shit.
Got a twisted personality to go with it, too. He’s the kind of guy who’d try to sell water to someone who was drowning. What makes him even scarier, though, is that he’d actually pull it off. He’s sharp in a bad kind of way. But we won’t be able to beat Verlaine without him.”
“How can you be so sure about that?”
“Because he was the one who helped me defeat Verlaine’s old partner, Rimbaud. He—Dazai—is the only reason I survived,” Master Chuuya admitted before clenching his fist. “Damn it, Dazai. Why’d you have to disappear at a time like this?”