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[TRANSLATED] CODE GEASS: STAGE-0-Entrance (Interval 1)
Part Of: CODE GEASS: STAGE-0-Entrance
CODE GEASS
Lelouch of
the Rebellion
Interval
——2017/08/XX, AREA 11
There were many rather mysterious club rooms within the Ashford Academy club house.
"Well, after all, it hasn't been all that long since this Area 11 school opened," said Lelouch Lamperouge, vice president of the student council.
He had straight black hair and elegant features, tinged with sadness. The lines of his body were long and lean — he was a bit thin, perhaps, but at the same time he could hardly have looked more refined. Among the female students, he was one of the two most popular boys in school.
"It was founded during something of a phase; an absolute flood of applications for bizarre clubs, all under the pretext of 'revitalizing education'."
"Really..." said the other, lighter-haired boy, listening to Lelouch's words with rapt attention.
He was only a little shorter than Lelouch, but his bright, boyish eyes made him look younger. Suzaku Kururugi, another member of the student council.
"But, Lelouch... aren't the clubs in the main building all — reasonably normal?"
"Yes, because this annex became a den of eccentricity."
"...I see."
"Ugh, this place is pure chaos," Lelouch pronounced, a sour look in his intense, strangely-colored pale eyes as he stared down the hallway that stretched before them.
Windowless, it seemed to go on forever: nothing but cold metal doors on either side, as far as the eye could see.
It was, of course, rather gloomy.
No, gloomy was too mild a word — the far end of the hallway was pitch-black. Light had no avenue of entry here. The atmosphere was exactly like a low-rent haunted house. Or maybe it was more like the entrance to hell...
Lelouch tsked at himself for even thinking such a thing.
He wouldn't have been in such unparalleled ill humor if not for the moment at hand. Or the objects in his hands: a bucket and a brand-new mop.
Beside him, Suzaku was similarly armed, but for one difference: he had donned a proper apron over his well-fitted school uniform, while Lelouch had refused outright, conceding only as far as a thin pair of rubber gloves.
With another click of his tongue, Lelouch turned to look at Suzaku. "Remind me. Why must we be the ones to clean up after all of these disbanded clubs, again...?"
Suzaku offered up a wry smile. "Well, the anniversary of the school's founding is coming up. Plus, the President told us to."
"And just where is she, anyway?"
"Ah... I think I heard she had a marriage interview."
"Again? She just keeps breaking things off by kneeing her suitors in their nether regions, and I'm tired of having to hear about it. Where's Nina?"
"She's in the middle of an experiment, or something..."
"In other words, she's going to blow up the science room again. She'll get herself expelled one of these days. What about Shirley?"
"Swim club."
"Oh, right, I think she said something about a tournament coming up. Kallen?"
"Out sick."
"More likely at a costume party. And that just leaves..."
"Rivalz."
"Who has hemorrhoids, right?"
"Yep. You know, I'd like to try out his sidecar sometime..."
"If you're looking to die young, be my guest. ...Which brings us to—"
"We can't ask Nunnally, Lelouch."
"I should think that was obvious, yes. And after all of that, the only viable pieces on the board are..."
Lelouch heaved a deep sigh.
Suzaku, meanwhile, was positively radiant. "Oh, come on, it's not going to be that bad. It could even be interesting. I'm looking forward to it!"
"Are you. Well, I'm filled with trepidation."
After all, who knew what sort of horrific things might be waiting for them?
No: horrific, he could deal with. If it was just horrific, Lelouch thought, he'd be thrilled.1
"All right, Suzaku — which room's first?"
"Give me a sec. Umm... oh, here we are. The Failures' Association2."
"...Nonsense right out of the gate. And it's been disbanded, right?"
"Yeah. Since the July before last, I guess. But the ad copy's still here... let's see. 'Ours is such a backwards group that when we fall down seven times, we collapse eight times. There will be no hint of triumph in any of our activities, no hint of stoicism in our spirits. To wit, in our policy, defeat is our trade and our character is that of a loser; our most cherished value is to always walk with your head hung low.'"
"That's quite enough of that. —I can already feel the headache coming on. In short, anything they left behind can and should be incinerated. That clears all the conditions. ...Honestly, I'd rather just set the entire room on fire."
"But Madame President wanted us to try and save any club-related materials — she's going to turn them into the editorial department, it's part of the academy's history..."
"An unseemly part. And she's going to publicize it? Please," said Lelouch, opening the door.
Literally opening it, with his hand: there were no touchpanels here. Everything would have needed to be manual at the time of this annex's construction.
The heavy steel door creaked slowly open. And inside—
Nothing.
Oh, there were white walls, windows with drawn blinds... but nothing else.
The room was by no means small. It must have been ten square meters, containing no furnishings of any kind — or anything else, for that matter. It was a complete waste of space.
"What, seriously?" Lelouch heaved a sigh of relief. Shouldering his mop, he started into the empty room. "I should have known... After all, it's already been two years—"
"Lelouch, look out!"
"What? I—"
With no further warning, Suzaku had tackled him from behind, knocking Lelouch to the floor. And pinning him there.
Lelouch opened his mouth to demand just what Suzaku thought he was doing, but then something whooshed just over his head, stirring his black hair — and hit the opposite wall in a series of deafening explosions. Water flying through the air like bullets, leaving bullet holes in the wall.
Silence.
"..."
"...It wasn't live ammo, you know. Just a water cannon. Still plenty lethal, though."
Unlike Lelouch, who was at a complete loss for words, Suzaku seemed oddly calm. As Lelouch watched, he withdrew a coin from one of his pockets and tossed it up into the air—
Whoosh!
"—!"
"I thought so."
The coin had been shot clean through.
"Any moving object trespassing over a certain height trips the sensor, which then activates the gun... Oh, I get it. You really would have to 'walk with your head hung low'..."
"Are... are you really providing color commentary right now?!" Lelouch had finally found his voice again. "What's with this room?! How could anyone possibly hold club meetings in here?!"
"Hahaha. It'll be okay, Lelouch. With my training, I can handle these kinds of traps."
"Don't give me that! Military-grade traps are hardly an integral part of school clubhouses. This is not normal!"
"Well, it'd make sure everyone in the club followed that rule."
"...I'd like to find the person who came up with that rule, crack his head open, and dissect the contents. Regardless, let's get out of here. Suzaku?"
"Huh? We're not cleaning this room?"
"You're seriously asking me that."
"Well, it'll be easier after we disarm the system, I'm sure."
"...That's hardly the point."
Careful to stay low, they crept their way towards the door — Suzaku leading the way, then Lelouch. The second Lelouch was clear, he wasted absolutely no time closing the door. Or rather, slamming it shut.
The sharp bang echoed in the dark hallway.
"...Let's just come back to this one. Which room's next, Suzaku?"
"One sec. Umm — aha, here we go."
"Well?"
"The Landmine Appreciation Society."
An uncomfortable silence descended on the two of them.
Eventually, Lelouch ground out: "Suzaku."
"...Yeah, Lelouch?"
"Am I the only one who just wants to blow this building to atoms, then seal off the whole area for all time?"
"What a coincidence. I was just thinking the same thing."
It didn't get any easier after that, of course. One look at the bedraggled pair could have told you that much.
"...Why did this have to happen to us?" Lelouch's whisper was that of a broken man. His mop had snapped clean in half, and his bucket had acquired several holes.
"...Well, this place did need to be cleaned," Suzaku responded, remarkably placid despite his now-scorched apron.
"Cleaned? Suzaku. How many rooms have we actually managed to clean so far?"
"Zero."
"And how many rooms have we, instead, made worse?"
"Thirteen."
"A fine ratio. Tell me, how are we still alive?"
"Well, I doubt it's divine intervention.3"
"A fine answer."
They trudged to the next room.
A white placard was mounted on the door.
"Japanese Culture Studies Club— Huh, this one might be okay..."
"Hold on, Suzaku. Have you forgotten the Frog Lovers' Club that turned out to house a snake oil refinery4...?"
"Well, what I really didn't get was the Clay Pipe Club. I mean, what were all those microphones for...?" Suzaku mused, opening the door.
Neither of them went inside, of course. They had learned better by now. From the safety of the hallway, the two boys peered into the room instead. And...
"Oh...!" Suzaku sounded pleasantly surprised.
"Hey, don't just—Suzaku."
Lelouch fumbled for Suzaku's hand in an effort to stop him, but he was too late — Suzaku had already entered the room, his head swiveling this way and that, clearly emotional. What choice did Lelouch have? He followed.
"Yeah, I think... this one really is okay, Lelouch!"
"Is that so? Well, forgive me if I still find that surreal."
Each of them had reason enough for their differing opinions.
The room was a bit gloomy. It also seemed to have been left (or more likely abandoned, after the disbandment of the club) in something of a state.
Where they had found such a thing and how they had even gotten it into the room, Lelouch couldn't imagine, but there was a red Japanese postbox by the window. Like a cheerful twin, an enormous statue of Hotei5 had been lined up beside it. Banners proclaiming Festival and Tenchi Muyo (in Japanese, of course) adorned one wall; and, though it was bone-dry, a shishi-odoshi6 dangled from the ceiling. Musty tatami mats covered half the floor, and in their center was a traditional brazier surrounded by flat zabuton cushions. There were Han'nya masks piled in a heap, wind chimes tangled together so that they just made meaningless noise, bamboo poles...
Culture, the placard had said; but, like Yumenoshima, it could also have been called a mountain of junk7.
"Wow, check this out, Lelouch! It's a kendama!"
"...No thanks. Listen, Suzaku..."
"I haven't seen one of these in forever." Retrieving it from the mountain of junk, Suzaku sent the little ball flying with a gentle flick of his wrist. "Yeah!"
The ball followed an impressive trajectory before landing cleanly on the tip of its wooden handle.
But that wasn't the end of it. With excited yips and whoops, Suzaku kept going, manipulating the ball so perfectly that the toy almost seemed to be not only animate but a willing participant.
"...Well, you're still as dextrous as ever."
"Of course you'd say that, you've always been bad at this sort of thing. Nunnally had more talent. Oh—"
"Hmph."
With that seemingly-disinterested snort, Lelouch removed his shoes and stepped up onto the tatami. As he moved to stand beside the Hotei statue, his gaze fell on a painting of Red Fuji.
Then — he noticed it.
"Oh..."
Caught between the statue and the wall, rough to the touch and absolutely reeking of mold: a bundle of yellowed paper.
"What're you looking at, Lelouch?"
Suzaku had set the toy aside and begun to approach him — only to stop abruptly, the smile freezing on his face, his eyes narrowing. The eyes of a different person.
He'd spotted what was in Lelouch's hand. That yellowed paper bundle. A newspaper. Dated August 10th, 2010.
It had been an extra edition. The headline read:
BRITANNIA INVADES JAPAN
Silence hung heavy between them. At some point, it had begun to rain outside. Dark waterdrops streaked down the fogged-up windows.
"..."
"..."
Wordlessly, Lelouch tried to put the newspaper back where he had found it, only for a single sheet to slip from the bundle and flutter to the tatami below.
"...!"
"Father..."
The article had included a photograph.
Those dark murky eyes, that receding hairline, that square jaw... and he was clad in an olive-green military uniform. The word recuperating leapt off the page.
Lelouch retrieved the sheet of paper and folded it back into the newspaper. Back in its proper section. Back where it belonged.
All while Suzaku watched silently.
*
"...It was raining then, too."
"What?"
"On that night... it was raining."
"Lelouch..."
"I think that's why I hate rain."
"...Oh."
*
—But.
There was no question that that... was when it had all started.
1 Lit. 'Would demons jump out at them, or snakes? No. If it was only demons or snakes, that would be fine. That would be lovely.' (鬼が出るか蛇が出るか is an idiom which means 'goodness only knows what may happen,' but Lelouch then turns it on its head, making the metaphor a little more literal. He does this several times throughout the prose and I only hope I'm capturing some of the cleverness of it. (I like Mamoru Iwasa's writing quite a bit.)↩
2 The Japanese name of the club here is 七転八倒 (writhing in agony), which is itself a play on 七転び八起き (fall down seven times, get up eight — or, idiomatically, 'perseverance').↩
3 Lit. 'Well, probably not because we're saints.'↩
4 ガマの油 is idiomatically 'snake oil', but the ガマ in the name refers to a species of toads, for the toad from which the oil was supposedly devised. Like other forms of snake oil, it was purported to have healing properties.↩
5 Also called 'the Laughing Buddha', his name in Chinese is pronounced Budai.↩
6 A device where running water continuously fills a bamboo tube until it tips over and clacks loudly against a stone. Traditionally used to startle animals out of gardens, kind of like a scarecrow.↩
7 Yumenoshima (Dream Island) is a real-life district in Tokyo, consisting of an artificial island build using waste landfill.↩
CODE GEASS
Lelouch of
the Rebellion
Interval
——2017/08/XX, AREA 11
There were many rather mysterious club rooms within the Ashford Academy club house.
"Well, after all, it hasn't been all that long since this Area 11 school opened," said Lelouch Lamperouge, vice president of the student council.
He had straight black hair and elegant features, tinged with sadness. The lines of his body were long and lean — he was a bit thin, perhaps, but at the same time he could hardly have looked more refined. Among the female students, he was one of the two most popular boys in school.
"It was founded during something of a phase; an absolute flood of applications for bizarre clubs, all under the pretext of 'revitalizing education'."
"Really..." said the other, lighter-haired boy, listening to Lelouch's words with rapt attention.
He was only a little shorter than Lelouch, but his bright, boyish eyes made him look younger. Suzaku Kururugi, another member of the student council.
"But, Lelouch... aren't the clubs in the main building all — reasonably normal?"
"Yes, because this annex became a den of eccentricity."
"...I see."
"Ugh, this place is pure chaos," Lelouch pronounced, a sour look in his intense, strangely-colored pale eyes as he stared down the hallway that stretched before them.
Windowless, it seemed to go on forever: nothing but cold metal doors on either side, as far as the eye could see.
It was, of course, rather gloomy.
No, gloomy was too mild a word — the far end of the hallway was pitch-black. Light had no avenue of entry here. The atmosphere was exactly like a low-rent haunted house. Or maybe it was more like the entrance to hell...
Lelouch tsked at himself for even thinking such a thing.
He wouldn't have been in such unparalleled ill humor if not for the moment at hand. Or the objects in his hands: a bucket and a brand-new mop.
Beside him, Suzaku was similarly armed, but for one difference: he had donned a proper apron over his well-fitted school uniform, while Lelouch had refused outright, conceding only as far as a thin pair of rubber gloves.
With another click of his tongue, Lelouch turned to look at Suzaku. "Remind me. Why must we be the ones to clean up after all of these disbanded clubs, again...?"
Suzaku offered up a wry smile. "Well, the anniversary of the school's founding is coming up. Plus, the President told us to."
"And just where is she, anyway?"
"Ah... I think I heard she had a marriage interview."
"Again? She just keeps breaking things off by kneeing her suitors in their nether regions, and I'm tired of having to hear about it. Where's Nina?"
"She's in the middle of an experiment, or something..."
"In other words, she's going to blow up the science room again. She'll get herself expelled one of these days. What about Shirley?"
"Swim club."
"Oh, right, I think she said something about a tournament coming up. Kallen?"
"Out sick."
"More likely at a costume party. And that just leaves..."
"Rivalz."
"Who has hemorrhoids, right?"
"Yep. You know, I'd like to try out his sidecar sometime..."
"If you're looking to die young, be my guest. ...Which brings us to—"
"We can't ask Nunnally, Lelouch."
"I should think that was obvious, yes. And after all of that, the only viable pieces on the board are..."
Lelouch heaved a deep sigh.
Suzaku, meanwhile, was positively radiant. "Oh, come on, it's not going to be that bad. It could even be interesting. I'm looking forward to it!"
"Are you. Well, I'm filled with trepidation."
After all, who knew what sort of horrific things might be waiting for them?
No: horrific, he could deal with. If it was just horrific, Lelouch thought, he'd be thrilled.1
"All right, Suzaku — which room's first?"
"Give me a sec. Umm... oh, here we are. The Failures' Association2."
"...Nonsense right out of the gate. And it's been disbanded, right?"
"Yeah. Since the July before last, I guess. But the ad copy's still here... let's see. 'Ours is such a backwards group that when we fall down seven times, we collapse eight times. There will be no hint of triumph in any of our activities, no hint of stoicism in our spirits. To wit, in our policy, defeat is our trade and our character is that of a loser; our most cherished value is to always walk with your head hung low.'"
"That's quite enough of that. —I can already feel the headache coming on. In short, anything they left behind can and should be incinerated. That clears all the conditions. ...Honestly, I'd rather just set the entire room on fire."
"But Madame President wanted us to try and save any club-related materials — she's going to turn them into the editorial department, it's part of the academy's history..."
"An unseemly part. And she's going to publicize it? Please," said Lelouch, opening the door.
Literally opening it, with his hand: there were no touchpanels here. Everything would have needed to be manual at the time of this annex's construction.
The heavy steel door creaked slowly open. And inside—
Nothing.
Oh, there were white walls, windows with drawn blinds... but nothing else.
The room was by no means small. It must have been ten square meters, containing no furnishings of any kind — or anything else, for that matter. It was a complete waste of space.
"What, seriously?" Lelouch heaved a sigh of relief. Shouldering his mop, he started into the empty room. "I should have known... After all, it's already been two years—"
"Lelouch, look out!"
"What? I—"
With no further warning, Suzaku had tackled him from behind, knocking Lelouch to the floor. And pinning him there.
Lelouch opened his mouth to demand just what Suzaku thought he was doing, but then something whooshed just over his head, stirring his black hair — and hit the opposite wall in a series of deafening explosions. Water flying through the air like bullets, leaving bullet holes in the wall.
Silence.
"..."
"...It wasn't live ammo, you know. Just a water cannon. Still plenty lethal, though."
Unlike Lelouch, who was at a complete loss for words, Suzaku seemed oddly calm. As Lelouch watched, he withdrew a coin from one of his pockets and tossed it up into the air—
Whoosh!
"—!"
"I thought so."
The coin had been shot clean through.
"Any moving object trespassing over a certain height trips the sensor, which then activates the gun... Oh, I get it. You really would have to 'walk with your head hung low'..."
"Are... are you really providing color commentary right now?!" Lelouch had finally found his voice again. "What's with this room?! How could anyone possibly hold club meetings in here?!"
"Hahaha. It'll be okay, Lelouch. With my training, I can handle these kinds of traps."
"Don't give me that! Military-grade traps are hardly an integral part of school clubhouses. This is not normal!"
"Well, it'd make sure everyone in the club followed that rule."
"...I'd like to find the person who came up with that rule, crack his head open, and dissect the contents. Regardless, let's get out of here. Suzaku?"
"Huh? We're not cleaning this room?"
"You're seriously asking me that."
"Well, it'll be easier after we disarm the system, I'm sure."
"...That's hardly the point."
Careful to stay low, they crept their way towards the door — Suzaku leading the way, then Lelouch. The second Lelouch was clear, he wasted absolutely no time closing the door. Or rather, slamming it shut.
The sharp bang echoed in the dark hallway.
"...Let's just come back to this one. Which room's next, Suzaku?"
"One sec. Umm — aha, here we go."
"Well?"
"The Landmine Appreciation Society."
An uncomfortable silence descended on the two of them.
Eventually, Lelouch ground out: "Suzaku."
"...Yeah, Lelouch?"
"Am I the only one who just wants to blow this building to atoms, then seal off the whole area for all time?"
"What a coincidence. I was just thinking the same thing."
It didn't get any easier after that, of course. One look at the bedraggled pair could have told you that much.
"...Why did this have to happen to us?" Lelouch's whisper was that of a broken man. His mop had snapped clean in half, and his bucket had acquired several holes.
"...Well, this place did need to be cleaned," Suzaku responded, remarkably placid despite his now-scorched apron.
"Cleaned? Suzaku. How many rooms have we actually managed to clean so far?"
"Zero."
"And how many rooms have we, instead, made worse?"
"Thirteen."
"A fine ratio. Tell me, how are we still alive?"
"Well, I doubt it's divine intervention.3"
"A fine answer."
They trudged to the next room.
A white placard was mounted on the door.
"Japanese Culture Studies Club— Huh, this one might be okay..."
"Hold on, Suzaku. Have you forgotten the Frog Lovers' Club that turned out to house a snake oil refinery4...?"
"Well, what I really didn't get was the Clay Pipe Club. I mean, what were all those microphones for...?" Suzaku mused, opening the door.
Neither of them went inside, of course. They had learned better by now. From the safety of the hallway, the two boys peered into the room instead. And...
"Oh...!" Suzaku sounded pleasantly surprised.
"Hey, don't just—Suzaku."
Lelouch fumbled for Suzaku's hand in an effort to stop him, but he was too late — Suzaku had already entered the room, his head swiveling this way and that, clearly emotional. What choice did Lelouch have? He followed.
"Yeah, I think... this one really is okay, Lelouch!"
"Is that so? Well, forgive me if I still find that surreal."
Each of them had reason enough for their differing opinions.
The room was a bit gloomy. It also seemed to have been left (or more likely abandoned, after the disbandment of the club) in something of a state.
Where they had found such a thing and how they had even gotten it into the room, Lelouch couldn't imagine, but there was a red Japanese postbox by the window. Like a cheerful twin, an enormous statue of Hotei5 had been lined up beside it. Banners proclaiming Festival and Tenchi Muyo (in Japanese, of course) adorned one wall; and, though it was bone-dry, a shishi-odoshi6 dangled from the ceiling. Musty tatami mats covered half the floor, and in their center was a traditional brazier surrounded by flat zabuton cushions. There were Han'nya masks piled in a heap, wind chimes tangled together so that they just made meaningless noise, bamboo poles...
Culture, the placard had said; but, like Yumenoshima, it could also have been called a mountain of junk7.
"Wow, check this out, Lelouch! It's a kendama!"
"...No thanks. Listen, Suzaku..."
"I haven't seen one of these in forever." Retrieving it from the mountain of junk, Suzaku sent the little ball flying with a gentle flick of his wrist. "Yeah!"
The ball followed an impressive trajectory before landing cleanly on the tip of its wooden handle.
But that wasn't the end of it. With excited yips and whoops, Suzaku kept going, manipulating the ball so perfectly that the toy almost seemed to be not only animate but a willing participant.
"...Well, you're still as dextrous as ever."
"Of course you'd say that, you've always been bad at this sort of thing. Nunnally had more talent. Oh—"
"Hmph."
With that seemingly-disinterested snort, Lelouch removed his shoes and stepped up onto the tatami. As he moved to stand beside the Hotei statue, his gaze fell on a painting of Red Fuji.
Then — he noticed it.
"Oh..."
Caught between the statue and the wall, rough to the touch and absolutely reeking of mold: a bundle of yellowed paper.
"What're you looking at, Lelouch?"
Suzaku had set the toy aside and begun to approach him — only to stop abruptly, the smile freezing on his face, his eyes narrowing. The eyes of a different person.
He'd spotted what was in Lelouch's hand. That yellowed paper bundle. A newspaper. Dated August 10th, 2010.
It had been an extra edition. The headline read:
BRITANNIA INVADES JAPAN
Silence hung heavy between them. At some point, it had begun to rain outside. Dark waterdrops streaked down the fogged-up windows.
"..."
"..."
Wordlessly, Lelouch tried to put the newspaper back where he had found it, only for a single sheet to slip from the bundle and flutter to the tatami below.
"...!"
"Father..."
The article had included a photograph.
Those dark murky eyes, that receding hairline, that square jaw... and he was clad in an olive-green military uniform. The word recuperating leapt off the page.
Lelouch retrieved the sheet of paper and folded it back into the newspaper. Back in its proper section. Back where it belonged.
All while Suzaku watched silently.
"...It was raining then, too."
"What?"
"On that night... it was raining."
"Lelouch..."
"I think that's why I hate rain."
"...Oh."
—But.
There was no question that that... was when it had all started.
1 Lit. 'Would demons jump out at them, or snakes? No. If it was only demons or snakes, that would be fine. That would be lovely.' (鬼が出るか蛇が出るか is an idiom which means 'goodness only knows what may happen,' but Lelouch then turns it on its head, making the metaphor a little more literal. He does this several times throughout the prose and I only hope I'm capturing some of the cleverness of it. (I like Mamoru Iwasa's writing quite a bit.)↩
2 The Japanese name of the club here is 七転八倒 (writhing in agony), which is itself a play on 七転び八起き (fall down seven times, get up eight — or, idiomatically, 'perseverance').↩
3 Lit. 'Well, probably not because we're saints.'↩
4 ガマの油 is idiomatically 'snake oil', but the ガマ in the name refers to a species of toads, for the toad from which the oil was supposedly devised. Like other forms of snake oil, it was purported to have healing properties.↩
5 Also called 'the Laughing Buddha', his name in Chinese is pronounced Budai.↩
6 A device where running water continuously fills a bamboo tube until it tips over and clacks loudly against a stone. Traditionally used to startle animals out of gardens, kind of like a scarecrow.↩
7 Yumenoshima (Dream Island) is a real-life district in Tokyo, consisting of an artificial island build using waste landfill.↩
no subject
http://arishides.blogspot.com/p/scans_16.html?m=1
no subject
I don't know why, but the official translation of the novels is. Not great. It seems rushed, it seems to have been done without much familiarity with the anime the novels were based on, and in places it even seems to have been actively censored.
There are a lot of lines straight-up missing from the official translation, even just within these few pages. (For example, Suzaku's line here was rendered as "Well, I'm not sure," which is a terrible translation of what he said, and Lelouch's response was cut entirely.) (A lot of the lines that were cut are trickier lines, which I'm grateful to be able to attach footnotes to, but not all of them; I'd be willing to bet that Lelouch's response being cut was a matter of the translator simply missing it.)
Meanwhile, for two examples (again, just within these pages) of the translator's lack of familiarity with the anime causing problems, the Japanese line about Lelouch opening the door to the first club room clearly says "touchpanel" in katakana, but the official translation just says "automatic sliding doors"; and Lelouch's use of his catchphrase about conditions being clear/ed is rendered as "That should be easy," presumably because the translator didn't recognize it.
Even without these problems, the original Japanese novels have a clever and occasionally meta style, which is just completely excised from the official translation in favor of a really bland, straightforward "style".
One more example. Remember the text I translated like this?
And then I included a translation note explaining that Lelouch was using wordplay with a Japanese idiom about demons and snakes jumping out at you? Well, in the official translation, it's just this:
I'm not claiming to be perfect here, or to be producing a work of great literature, but I definitely think I'm improving on the official translation.
no subject
(Anonymous) 2020-10-20 12:57 pm (UTC)(link)no subject