Obituary 1: He Wasn’t Very Alive When I Found Him, I Swear!

“Okay, let me make things perfectly clear.

I DID NOT kill this man.

I merely found him on the brink of death, perched up on the side of the road like a discarded piece of junk. It was by complete coincidence I even saw him.

It was a pretty busy street, though…

And the weather was pretty clear…

Seriously, how did nobody see this man?

Since I’m a somewhat decent citizen, I pulled over to try and help, but I was already too late. I couldn’t get any signal either, so I decided the best course of action would be to drive him to a hospital.

When I got there, it was quite the scene. My hands and clothes were caked in this dude’s blood as I carried him in, searching for any doctor that could help… this.

Upon further examination, his chest was almost completely caved in, and his legs were quite… detached from his body. Probably hit by a car, if I had to guess.

So, yeah. That’s how I ended up here.”

“And you’re sticking to that story?”

“Of course! This is a huge misunderstanding, after all!” I shouted back.

The police had me locked in an interrogation room, handcuffed to the table. They let me take off my dirty clothes at least, which was nice of them. It was a bit cold in my undies, though.

“So let me get this straight, Mr…?”

“Fukuzawa. Yuki Fukuzawa.”

“Do you have a job, Mr. Fukuzawa?”

“Not by a long shot.”

The officer exhaled in disappointment. I think even he could see this was going nowhere. He left soon after, letting me marinate in the interrogation room alone. I’ve seen this tactic before, in true crime videos on the internet, so I know how to look innocent…

– wait. Forget just looking innocent, I AM INNOCENT!

He came back in, about ten minutes later, and unlocked the handcuffs without a word.

“You’re free to leave, somehow.” He muttered. Like I care! “You’re either extremely lucky , or an incredibly unlucky person , Mr. Fukuzawa.” He stared at me with a very questionable face, as I left the interrogation room.

Finally! I can go home–

SMACK.

I tripped over my own feet, and face planted into the floor spectacularly. The officer chuckled a bit, but I didn’t let it get to me. After all, I’m a free man now!

Outside the station, there was a cab waiting to drive me back to my apartment.

That’s right. I, Yuki Fukuzawa, have my own apartment. Sure, my parents pay for it (mostly) but I’m the only one who lives there, so it's mine!

They have been on my case about getting a job though, or else they’ll ‘throw my ass to the curb, like yesterday’s trash’. That’s easy! I can just look when I get home!

The cab dropped me off a few minutes later, which racked up a medium-to-large fare for such a short ride. What gives, man? He was probably trying to stimp me out of my last few dollars.

“Thank you!” He drove away happily, after robbing a poor, down on his luck, handsome college-aged student. I stared at his car angrily as he drove away, hoping that something bad would happen. Something small, like a divine intervention would do, since he deserved it.

I walked into the apartment building, and was greeted by Morita Shigeru-san, who’s been running this place for a pretty long time. He’s a super nice, somewhat wrinkly old man.

“Oh, Yuki-san! Welcome back!” He smiled.

“Good afternoon, Shigeru-san. How’re you doing?” I smiled back. He stared at me for a while with a confused look on his face. Was there something on my face?

Oh, right. The blood on my clothes.

“Someone’s been exploring the dyes too much, huh Yuki-san?” He joked. Oh, well. When life throws you an ‘out’, take ‘em when you can.

“Y-Yeah! By the way, would you know how to get bl– dye out of clothes easily?”

“Just wash ‘em.”

“Figures.”

I turned to the elevator, which had a large OUT OF ORDER sign taped to it. Stairs it is. The floor signs passed pretty quickly as I made my way up.

3.

5.

8.

8.

8.

5.

10.

11.

By the time I reached the ninth floor, I was out of breath. Whatever, I was home now, even if I did have to crawl my way up for the most part.

The cold air of my apartment felt nice on my face, and after some extreme effort, I think I deserve a reward. I think there was still a six-pack in the fridge. Probably.

I opened the door, and was met with a blessing. The case of beer was there, alone in my fridge.

“Thank you for the meal.”

I sat at the dinner table, and pounded back the whole case.

I’m not sure what happened in the following hours, really.

But when I woke up, it was already morning. Somehow my entire closet was empty, and I was draped in nothing but a blanket and a single, cat-patterened sock.

I could hear the rumbling of my washing machine from here. I think I know what happened to my closet now, thankfully.

Not so thankfully was the overloaded washing machine, thunking and clacking its way through the load. I gave it a soft tap and smiled.

“You’ve got this, washer-kun.” I said lightly, then shuffled to the kitchen for some coffee.

POP.

Uh-oh.

The loud whirring stopped, and the flashing lights on the washing machine faded out with a final gasp. Tch. What a piece of junk, can’t even do its job right.

It can wait until after my morning coffee, though.

I went to check the damage, and oh boy…

A couple boots, my shower curtain, the TV remote and most of my clothes were soaking wet, and remained in the carcass of washer-kun. I’ll just tell Shigeru-san and he’ll fix me up with another.

“It– He died of natural causes, Shigeru-san.”

He inspected the ghost of washer-kun past, then turned to me. Since my clothes were mostly soaked through, I had to improvise.

The only thing I could find was this dated mom-apron from my halloween costume last year. It did the trick surprisingly well, though.

“Natural causes?” That didn’t sound much like a question.

“Yes.” I doubled down.

“You’re gonna have to pay for this, Yuki-san. It won’t be cheap.”

I fell to my knees and bowed as low as I possibly could by his feet.

“I don’t have any money! Please, spot me this one time!” I pleaded.

“Like I covered the dishwasher?” He poked.

“That wasn’t my fault either! It broke because of faulty wiring!”

“YOU RIPPED THE DOOR OFF!!!!” he shouted back.

Welp, looks like my tenure as a comforted, handsome, broke man will end today. From here on out, I’ll be a handsome, broke and homeless man.

I expected him to continue shouting at me, but he suddenly stopped talking. Maybe he’d finally kicked the bucket.

“Yuki-san, come with me.” His voice was stern, nothing like it was just a moment ago

We walked down several flights of stairs.

Then through a few blocks.

Then a few streets.

“We’re here.”

It was a tall, pretty dark building with a large wooden sign.

Shigeru Morgue.

“It’s got a nice ring to it.” I added.

We both walked in, and I got to say; for a morgue, this place is pretty lively.

Shigeru-san’s wife, Isaki-san, was behind the counter and greeted us.

“Isaki-chan, get this. Yuki-san said he’d be our new mortician!”

“Huh?”

Me? A mortician? Where do I even begin…

… like with the head? And what are the benefits like?

Do I get dental?

“Lovely! Iwasaki-san’s sudden passing left us at a deficit, so we’re glad to have you!” Isaki-san smiled from behind the counter. She slid me a piece of paper and pen, getting me to sign in a few places. Standard job stuff, probably. It was like the terms and conditions in a software update, mostly nonsense if I had to guess.

“You sure you want to do this, Yuki-san? It might cost you your soul.”

“Old ladies shouldn’t speak like that!” I smiled.

I mean, the benefits were great.

“So what’s the pay like per hour here?”

“We don’t do that here.” Morita-san smiled. I see. They must be a yearly-pay place.

“Welcome aboard, Yuki-san!” They exclaimed, Morita-san extending his hand.

“Glad to be here!” I shook, with a big smile.

I don’t know why people complain about not getting a job. This was like, super easy! What’s the saying…ah! ‘Crack a few eggs and one’s bound to hatch’, right?

“Come ready tomorrow!” Isaki waved at us as we left.

“Yes!”

“And wear something more professional!”

“Yes!”

*

The next day, I put together my okay-est outfit and set out to the Morgue. The morning breeze was fresh, the birds chirped a lovely song… it was all really beautiful. Maybe the key to happiness is employment, I thought.

Nah. It’s the money. Who cares about the job.

I skipped the rest of the way to the morgue, and burst through the door like an entitled princess from a movie would. I earned it, after all. I got a real, paying job.

“GOOOOOOOD MORRNING!!!!” I sang, continuing my skipping inside.

“You seem energetic this morning, Yuki-san!” Morita-san laughed from behind the counter. Of course I am! I’m getting paid!

Morita-san led me to a back room, and got me set up with tons of cool new equipment. A lab coat, some cool hairnet, and a massive box of these blue-plastic gloves.

“Time to get to work.”

There was that same dead guy from the other day, this time looking a bit… more dead. He laid on the cold steel operating table in the centre of the room, completely naked.

My stomach sank.

This wasn’t funny anymore.

“What’s wrong, Yuki-san? Aren’t you going to work?”

My hands started to quiver, and cold sweat leaked down my head.

This was real. I couldn’t pretend it wasn’t.

“On second thought maybe I’ll–”

“No.” Morita-san stopped my exit attempt, and grabbed onto my shoulder, tightly. It was way stronger than that old man looked. He must work out. “You can’t quit. It’s in the contract.” His voice grew distorted. I could hear some flesh-like noises from behind me, but I refused to look.

“You leave, you forfeit your soul.” the voice croaked. I didn’t realize until now, but Morita-san’s hand grew into a claw, and dug into my shoulder.

My legs started to shake, feeling like they were about to give out.

“W-W-What do you want…?” My voice trembled. I was still too scared to look.

“I want you to fulfill your end of the contract.” He, or whatever it was spat back. The voice was a deep, terrifying sound that scratched its way through my ears.

“What’s t-t-that?”

“To be a mortician.”

“W-W-W-What if I don’t?”

“Like I said. Your soul is forfeit, and I can do whatever I want with it, for all of time. It’s all in the contract.” After it finished speaking, the contract suddenly materialized in front of me, like some floating object you need to get in order to progress a quest.

I grabbed it, and flipped through again.

What it said was exactly as ‘Morita-san’ said, and I signed it.

This is it. This is where I, Yuki Fukuzawa, die. I thought.

My legs were about to give out, when I suddenly noticed something on the last page.

¥ 539, 501.14 / body.

“Is this true?” I spun back, and whatever was there changed back into Morita-san. The wound on my shoulder was gone too, somehow.

“Yeah…?” he sounded skeptical. “You get most of the money, we don’t really need it in the under–”

“I’ll work!” I shouted, all hesitation and fear gone from my body.

The money made it all worth it.

Morita-san was at a loss for words.

“Just like that?”

“Should I have let someone else get this money?” I didn’t want to lose this opportunity, even if my life depended on it. With that money, I could buy… tons of stuff! Plus, if Mom found out I lost a job after one day, I’d have something far worse than some dingy forfeiting of my soul.

Morita-san cleared his throat, but seemed a bit hesitant.

“I’m a fast learner, so don’t worry!” I reassured him, then got closer to the examination table. That seemed to do the trick, as Morita-san started teaching me the basics of being a mortician. The cutting, identification, labeling… all of it.

It was kind of like a reverse puzzle, where I took pieces out to find the picture beneath.

After a long, tiring, somewhat grueling day of honest work… I was done.

“You’ve still got a ways to go, Yuki-san. But you’re not half-bad.”

“It is my first day… So what about the money?” I couldn’t stop myself from asking.

“You broke a washing machine in my building. I’m keeping this one.”

Oh, yeah. That did happen.

“Can I leave now, or will that whole ‘soul-forefitting’ thing happen?”

“It was more about quitting, so yeah. You can leave.”

Honestly, I didn’t know what I was getting myself into. Soul-forefitting? Whatever the hell happened to Morita-san? It all was just so, so confusing.

“See you guys tomorrow!” I waved as I left, with a big smile. Isaki-san and Morita-san waved back, making me feel a bit better about my choice.

Did I care?

Not one bit.

As far as I’m concerned, this morally-grey, supernaturally-ambiguous morgue was the solution to all my problems. And I was going to make some serious bank.

Name of Deceased: Ryunosuke Igarashi

Age: 44

Cause of Death: Blunt Force Trauma, Blood Loss.

Signed: Morita Shigeru, Yuki Fukuzawa