Obituary 2: I'm Just Dying to Make a Living!

A few days after being hired, I really felt like I was getting the hang of it. Sure, the perpetual ‘dead person’ smell was… definitely present, but I created what could only be deemed a creative success.

“Yuki-san… what exactly is that around your neck?” Morita-san was most likely shocked by my above-par intelligence.

I created a necklace from car fresheners, specifically the “Honeydew-Cucumber Breeze” scent. It had a pleasant nose-feel, and made me remember the cheap ones I used to hang in my car.

“Jealous? They were dirt-cheap at the discount store!” I bragged, taking a massive whiff of my new-car smell necklace.

He grabbed the necklace, out of jealousy probably, and took a long sniff.

“Yuki-san… this….”

He started to cry. I get it, Morita-san. I remember my first car freshener too.

“THIS IS REPULSIVE!!!!!” He screamed so loud I thought he popped a blood vessel. I wasn’t quite sure where this old man stored that much energy, but he isn’t exactly ‘top of the retirement home’ if that makes sense. You know, with the whole ‘demon’ thing.

He flipped one of the tree-shaped fresheners on my necklace over, and his eyes widened even further.

“THESE ARE ALL EXPIRED!!!” I would say he scooped his jaw off the floor, but that’d be in poor taste, even for me. Given the situation, that is.

The dead dude of the day found himself between a rock and a hard place this time.

Only the ‘rock’ was multiple, probably fit, men, and the hard place was, well, the ground.

His jaw was actually on the floor, and he didn’t look like the most pleasant dead dude I’ve seen before. I was just happy it didn’t stain my semi-decently new second-hand sneakers.

Morita-san did eventually calm down, picking both his and this dude’s jaws off the floor, and we got to work. Instead of smelling whatever this guy’s last meal was, I got to enjoy the cool, fresh, invigorating, and most importantly extremely cheap scent of “Honeydew-Cucumber Breeze”.

“Yuki-san, can you help for a sec…?” Morita-san put his hand out, expecting something to be placed there. I wasn’t quite sure what he meant, though.

“One of the instruments, Yuki-san.” He prodded, moving his fingers impatiently.

Instruments?

Like I’m gonna find one of those in here…

I clanged around a bit, rifling through rusty old toolboxes and closets caked in dust. The other guy who worked here, Iwasaki-san I think? Did he even use these ‘instruments’?

Because all I’m seeing is metallic tools and silver plated tweezers. None of these could make a melody, if you ask me.

But through it all, I finally found what I was looking for, and placed it in his hand.

“Thank you, Yuki-san–”

He paused, staring at the plastic kazoo I’d placed on his palm. Sure, it wasn’t a very good instrument, but it could still make something decent. I didn’t know why he needed it now though…

He took a deep breath and calmly placed the kazoo on his little metal nightstand with wheels.

“This is a learning moment, Yuki-san. Come here for a second.”

I walked up beside him, and stared down at the body again.

“Tough luck, huh?”

“You could say that, I guess.” Morita-san shrugged.

“Yuki-san, do you see this man resting here?”

“He’s not really resting–”

“DO YOU SEE HIM?!?”

“Yes.”

“Why, in any world, would I need this cheap piece of plastic?”

I felt like that was a trick question. I mean, he asked for it, right? I was just doing what he asked me to do, and that wasn’t the right call, apparently. I quietly pondered over it, scratching my head and hoping a detail would come to mind.

“Is it… because you’re bored?”

He held up a metallic scalpel, like the tools I saw in one of the closets, and pointed at it with his other hand.

“This is an instrument. That is… I don’t even know.”

“But you can’t make music with that, Morita-san.”

“That’s– I guess you’re right. I needed something like this, but a bit longer and a thicker blade.” He exhaled loudly, then faced the floor.

“Ok.”

I got the tools I found earlier, bundled them up in a little cloth I found on the floor and brought them over. If he wanted tools, he could’ve just asked.

Now it was time for some real work.

“You see these abrasions around the chest and face? That pattern is usually found with a smaller, blunt object like brass knuckles.” He pointed around the body at purple marks, and in the middle of each were these darker bumps. It did look like brass knuckles, at least from the movies I’ve seen.

“How’d his jaw come off then?” I pointed at his face, and the location where a jaw would have been, if it was still a part of his body.

Morita-san examined the markings around the edges of the cavity. To me, they looked pretty similar to the brass knuckle ones.

“They must’ve used an excessive amount of force for it to be completely detached.” He moved in a bit closed, and squinted at the edges.

“Look here, Yuki-san.”

I brought my head in closer, and noticed what he was pointing out.

The punch was so hard it actually created burn marks. The edges of his mouth were singed into a black, ashy texture.

“These are no mere burn marks. They’re the work of a devil.”

“A devil took this guy’s jaw off?”

“It’s very likely. Either that, or someone who possesses the power of a devil.” Morita-san tacked on, inspecting further.

He pointed out some peculiar markings etched into the roof of this guy’s mouth, glowing a faint and pulsating red. Weird place for a tattoo.

“Ah, I see now.”

Morita-san reached into the corpse’s mouth with both hands and cut the tattooed skin away. Getting a closer look at the writing, it wasn’t writing at all. It was more like hieroglyphs, or the instruction manual for ikea furniture.

“Looks like the victim was affiliated with a demon.”

Wait. I feel like I’m missing something here.

“Morita-san, what’s the difference between devils and demons?”

He continued the autopsy without replying. I shuffled in to learn some more of the techniques, in case there was a pop-quiz or performance evaluation.

Usually, I wouldn’t bother watching since I never needed to remember any of it. But here it was different.

I could get a raise.

That changes everything.

We worked on the body for a few hours, feeling more like a game of operation than a job, and decided to take a lunch break.

Morita-san’s lunch was a handful of coffee-flavored candies, and a few slices of garlic bread. Talk about a balanced diet.

Mine was much more dignified. Two cans of beer, and a cup of noodles I picked up on the way to work.

We sat down in the break room, which was down the hallway for the operation room, and ate in silence. Until I broke it, that is.

“You didn’t answer my question, Morita-san.”

“Oh? I must’ve missed it. What’s up?”

“What’s the difference between devils and demons?” I slurped my cheap noodles.

He looked away from his horrible lunch in confusion. I didn’t think it was that bad a question, to be honest.

“You said something about devils, then about how the dude was affiliated with a demon? What’s the difference?”

Morita-san had a grim look on his face as he threw another coffee-candy in his mouth. He refused to look up from the table.

Something was telling me I shouldn’t have asked this.

“You see, Yuki-san…” he trailed, slowly looking up from the table. He rested his elbows on the table, interlacing his fingers in front of his mouth.

I swallowed nervously.

“...it’s about the handwriting.”

The cold sweat that trickled down my back dried up, and so did my nerves.

“Make no mistake, they’re both quite the opponent,” he continued. “But a demon’s handwriting is much better than a devil’s. Look!”

He flaunted the flap of skin with the tattoo on it in my face, waving it frantically.

“It’s all written perfectly!”

He was getting really fired up about it. I cracked the tab on my beer, and let him run this train of thought to the station.

“Wait… then how’d you know the other dude was a devil? We didn’t see any handwriting.”

I mean, all we saw was the singed and detached jaw. At that moment, Morita-san had a smug look on his face and scoffed at me.

“Naive Yuki-san… there was writing! On the corners of the jaw cavity, there was a small line that was definitely written by a devil.”

“Morita-san, you’re a genius!” I shouted back, sipping my beer.

We laughed for a moment, but I was still feeling like I was forgetting something. I stared deeply into my aluminum reflection on the can, thinking two brains worked better than one. I read the label over and over again, lost in thought.

“Oh…. OH!!”

“Yuki-san?”

“CAR!!!!!”

I bolted out of the morgue like a bat out of hell… well I guess that wouldn’t be far off…

–Nevermind that!

I forgot my car at the hospital.

I ran past buildings, apartments, mom and pop shops, and through a ton of intersections without waiting my turn (because this was more important than traffic laws) to get to my car.

How could I forget her for this long?

…

I finally made it to the hospital, out of breath and a bit wet thanks to the rain, but there nonetheless. Too bad there isn’t a valet service here, which would save me a lot of blood, sweat and tears.

“Car?”

Morita-san appeared from thin air next to me.

“Yeah. I forgot it here after I brought that legless dude for help.”

He nodded, then the two of us headed to the parking garage, which wasn’t too far away. There was a trail of blood leading to the main entrance from the parking garage that made for a nice guide to the building. A bit odd for a hospital to have this much blood leading to it, though. Gives a creepy vibe.

We checked everywhere on the first and second floors, to no avail.

If only I could remember where I parked it.

“Do you remember anything about parking?” Morita-san asked, hoping for a clue. I scratched my head, and something actually did come to mind.

“It was super busy that day, so I had to park in a far corner!”

Like a divine revelation, my memory had saved me once again, so we walked to the elevator in search of the third floor.

Weirdly enough there was more blood in the elevator, in the back left corner and on a few of the buttons too.

“You think a devil or demon was the reason there’s so much blood?” I walked out of the elevator first. Morita-san shuffled out slowly and pondered.

“It very well could be. There’s not many reasons this much blood would be here.”

The trail dragged out into the third floor of the garage, so I decided to follow it.

It somehow led all the way to the passenger seat of my car.

That’s when I remembered it.

…

I didn’t lie to the officer. Not intentionally.

I did see that guy on the side of the road, and decided to bring him to the hospital. The only issue was that the hospital was weirdly busy that day, and I couldn’t find a parking spot. It took three whole floors of searching before we found one, but it was a reverse-in only spot.

It took five more minutes to find one I could actually park in, then I hauled him to the elevator, may or may not have dropped him once or thrice, then made it to the lobby.

…

So yeah, that’s why my car’s here.

“Good for you, Yuki-san. Now can we get back to–”

CLICK.

“NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!”

My prized possession, which was a mini disco ball that I had dangling from my rear-view, sat shattered on the floor of the passenger seat. My heart, similar to the disco ball, was in pieces.

I couldn’t help it. The tears started flowing naturally, and I couldn’t stop them.

Can you blame me?

It was there for the most important parts of my life. My first girlfriend, and subsequent breakup. My first post-breakup meal, and most importantly the bishoujo music phase.

“I need a new car.” I sniffled. Without the disco ball, the car was just a piece of junk with four wheels. Morita-san placed his hand on my shoulder, in an effort to comfort me.

“Let’s finish up what we’re doing first. Then, I’ll help you find a new car to replace this rust buck– I mean beautifully aged four-wheeled carton of milk.”

I wiped the tears away from my eyes and nodded. I closed my eyes for a moment, and we were back in the operating room. I chose not to question it, and got back to work.

The only way I could get through this shift was with my second lunch beer, and the anticipation of getting a new car, courtesy of Morita-san.

Name of Deceased: Yuji Onotake

Age: 29

Cause of Death: Brain Hemorrhage, Blunt Force Trauma.

Signed: Morita Shigeru, Yuki Fukuzawa.