Run, Melos! (2) (2)

by Osamu Dazai · 2026-05-01

There is someone who quietly awaits, without doubt. I am trusted. My life is not an issue. I cannot say something as easy as apologizing by dying. I must live up to that trust. For now, that is the only thing. Run! Melos.

I am trusted. That devil's whisper from earlier was a dream. A bad dream. Forget it. When one's organs are tired, one sometimes has such bad dreams. Melos, it is not your shame. Indeed, you are a true hero. You have risen again and are able to run, haven't you? Thank goodness! I can die as a man of justice. Oh, the sun is setting. It's sinking rapidly. Wait for me, Zeus. I have been an honest man since birth. Please let me die as an honest man.

Pushing aside and knocking over people on the road, Melos ran like a dark wind. He dashed through the middle of a banquet in a field, startling the revelers, kicking dogs, leaping over streams, running ten times faster than the slowly setting sun. The moment he passed a group of travelers, an ominous conversation reached his ears: "By now, that man is probably on the cross." Oh, that man, for that man I am running so hard now. That man must not die. Hurry, Melos. Do not be late. Now is the time to show the power of love and sincerity. His appearance doesn't matter. Melos was now almost completely naked. Unable to breathe, blood gushed from his mouth two or three times. He could see it. Far in the distance, small, the tower of the city of Syracuse was visible. The tower glittered, bathed in the evening sun.

"Oh, Lord Melos." A groaning voice came with the wind.

"Who is it?" Melos asked as he ran.

"It is Philostratos. I am a disciple of your friend, Selinuntius." The young stonemason also shouted as he ran behind Melos. "It's no use anymore. It's futile. Please stop running. You can no longer help that person."

"No, the sun has not set yet."

"Just now, that person is about to be executed. Oh, you are too late. I resent it. If only you had been a little, just a little bit earlier!"

"No, the sun has not set yet." Melos, with a heart feeling like it would burst, stared only at the large, red setting sun. There was nothing to do but run.

"Please stop. Please stop running. Your own life is important now. That person believed in you. Even when dragged to the execution ground, he remained calm. Even when the king teased him relentlessly, he only replied, 'Melos will come,' and seemed to maintain a strong conviction."

"That's why I run. I run because I am believed in. Whether I make it in time or not is not the issue. Human life is not the issue either. I am running for something much more terrifying and greater. Follow me! Philostratos."

"Oh, have you gone mad? Then, run hard. Perhaps it's not impossible to make it. Run!"

Needless to say. The sun had not yet set. Melos ran, summoning his last strength. Melos's head was empty. He wasn't thinking about anything. He just ran, dragged by some incomprehensibly great force. As the sun swayed and sank below the horizon, and just as the very last sliver of afterglow was about to vanish, Melos burst into the execution ground like a whirlwind. He made it.

“Wait. Do not kill that man. Melos has returned. As promised, he has returned now.” He intended to shout this loudly to the crowd at the execution ground, but his throat was crushed, and only a faint, hoarse voice emerged. Not a single person in the crowd noticed his arrival. The crucifixion pillar had already been erected high, and Selinuntius, bound by ropes, was slowly being hoisted up. Witnessing this, Melos mustered his last courage and, just as he had swum through the turbulent current earlier, pushed his way through the crowd, pushing and pushing,

“It’s me, executioner! I am the one to be killed. It’s Melos. I, who took him hostage, am here!” he cried out with all his might in a hoarse voice, finally climbing onto the crucifixion platform and biting the feet of his friend who was being hoisted up. The crowd roared. “Bravo! Forgive him!” they shouted in unison. Selinuntius’s ropes were untied.

“Selinuntius,” Melos said with tears in his eyes. “Hit me. Slap my cheek with all your strength. I had a bad dream once on the way. If you don’t hit me, I don’t even deserve to embrace you. Hit me.”

Selinuntius nodded, seemingly understanding everything, and slapped Melos’s right cheek so loudly that it echoed throughout the execution ground. After hitting him, he smiled gently and said,

“Melos, hit me. Slap my cheek just as loudly. For these three days, I doubted you just once, for a fleeting moment. I doubted you for the first time in my life. If you don’t hit me, I cannot embrace you.”

Melos put strength into his arm and slapped Selinuntius’s cheek.

“Thank you, my friend,” they both said simultaneously, embracing each other tightly, and then cried out with joyful tears.

From among the crowd, voices of weeping could be heard. The tyrant Dionysius had been silently watching the two from behind the crowd, but then he quietly approached them, his face flushed, and said,

“Your wish has been granted. You have conquered my heart. Trust was not an empty delusion after all. Please, will you not let me join you? Please, grant my wish and let me be one of your companions.”

A cheer erupted among the crowd.

“Long live the King! Long live!”

A young girl offered a scarlet cloak to Melos. Melos was flustered. His good friend, sensing his confusion, explained,

“Melos, aren’t you stark naked? Quickly put on that cloak. This sweet girl is terribly upset that everyone can see Melos’s naked body.”

The hero blushed deeply.