To conduct the singing misfortune [Dazai and Reader]

Dragon Head Conflict // Dead apple

A dull day and the 87th of a conflict. I'd spent hours staring at the intricate weaving in the wicker chair, wrapped in a blanket. An art set was unopened on the coffee table across from me, and as much as it would please Sakunosuke for me to use it, I couldn't bring myself to touch it. I don't want to ruin something so rare as a gift. So it remained in my line of sight, burned into my retinas to treasure these fleeting moments of untainted perfection.

Sakunosuke was away, running errands for the Port Mafia as chaos reigned within Yokohama. They call it the Dragon Head Conflict, but the name couldn't push me out of this chair to look out the window and see the evidence of the terror. I was too stuck in my head.

Every time I try to walk around the city, I see kids my age. It's different to the slums, and it puts a feeling of homesickness in me. They all look so happy and content with life as they sit with their families. But everything I feel seems so diluted in comparison.

A hastened pair of footsteps work toward the door, someone almost yanking it from its hinges as it opens in a rush.

The night air drifted into the room as I abruptly became aware of my surroundings, finding it dark as shadows coated Sakunosuke's figure, along with some smaller, unknown ones. I sunk into my chair, wanting to ignore the antics as Sakunosuke switched on the lamp. The dull, buzzing light hurt my eyes. Noise cluttered the once-still room, and I then discerned crying and Sakunosuke trying to hush it.

I covered my head with the blanket as the dreadful noise continued to ring on with stubborn determination to aggravate me.

"...Sakunosuke, what's happening?" My guardian couldn't answer, too preoccupied with caring for the unknown children. I peek out of the blanket, looking to where some lay, tired and on the edge of sleep, one still in shock, pale, and the toddler, crying away on the sofa across from me.

I presume that Sakunosuke had made the spontaneous decision to adopt the kids, just as he did for me, and was now realising he didn't know where he'd put them for the night. They must be orphans whose parents were caught up in the conflict. Kids with normal lives up until now.

I rose from my place on the chair, startling the youngest boy as I carried the blanket with me, and I trudged toward my room. I don't trust the other kids with my new possession, and I sneak the art set back to my room before settling on my sheets.

Sakunosuke hadn't noticed me amid his stress, so I was okay with leaving him to deal with the children. My room is as dusty and messy as I'd left it and without the light on, a deathtrap for stepping on misplaced pens and crumbs. I hide under my covers from the sound of grieving screams and the light coming through the crack in the door, clamping my eyes shut and lulling myself to sleep.

Crying can still get through the paper-thin walls, but I sleep away the night.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Unwillingly, I'm awoken by giggling in my right ear; Unfamiliar, childish giggling.

Instinct claws me from my position on the bed, tumbling out of it with a clumsy efficiency. I'd chosen flight rather than fight.

I crawl the farthest I can from the girlish sound as my ability arms itself. Purple surrounds me as my eyes burn.

My chest heaves in pure hysteria, locking onto a little girl sitting beside where I was once asleep. The thought of someone seeing me at such a time sends a feeling of unwavering dread into the depths of my stomach. I have to hold in the urge to throw up.

As if attempting to will me through the wall, my legs kept pushing and kicking on the old wood floors despite being in the corner.

Sakunosuke slides open the tatami room door with breakfast in hand and, upon seeing my so rarely emotional body shaking and sickly, rushes toward me.