Cirque de Sentimentalité - YANDERE!DAZAI

WALKING OFF THIS BURNING BRIDGE

You wake up to Joker stuffing your clothes in a suitcase, grumbling under his breath. His back is turned to you, and you take the opportunity to pocket your phone before he takes a hold of that too. You slip it into your pocket and clear your throat.

"I'll start making tea," You say, standing up from your mattress. Joker doesn't turn around as he clicks your suitcase shut.

"Go on, then," He says roughly. There was a gruffness in his voice that indicated he had been crying. "I'll finish packing your stuff."

"Thanks," You say, ducking under your tent flap and into the soft night. It was 8:01 PM. You breathe in the chilly night air, where the trees were black against the dull dark grey sky, their individual velvety leaves rustling each other to create a symphony of nature's singing. You tilt your head back and stare up at the sky, watching the cotton clouds glide over.

"The moon is beautiful tonight," Naja says. You turn your head and face him. On his face is a serene, peaceful expression. "Tonight marks our last night in Yokohama."

"It does."

"How has your stay here been?"

"Revolutionary," You answer, after a bout of silence. You turn your head back at the sky. "If I am become death, I have undermined it and become life."

Naja upholds his smile. "Has that gentleman from earlier been involved?"

"Oh yes," You say. "It was because of him I have come to this conclusion. My actions now have a reason. I have a purpose. To be honest, I have always felt like a place of broken words and silences encapsulated within walls, of accumulated sadnesses that splintered the air, scraped away, split open by particles of dust. A house where madness was brewing, where it lurked, imminent. But now the doors are open. He has entered. And he is moving the furniture around; he is a poltergeist haunting me," You take a moment to breathe. "When he says my name, I feel kinder. I feel softer."

"But was it not the abundance of violence from war that made you this way?" Naja asks, watching you turn your back on him and boil water over the fire.

"It was the war that made me soft, realising the pain and ultraviolence that comes with conflict. But he unravels me. He says he doesn't understand me, but that's fine. I don't think any two human beings could ever properly understand each other. As long as he loves me."

"Are you sad that you are leaving him behind?" Naja asks.

"Of course."

"Joker is not pleased with you."

"Oh, I know," You pull the paper packet from your pocket and rip the top, before pouring it into the boiling water. This was no sugar–it was a gift from Dazai; a paralysing agent. "I said I couldn't, didn't, and will never love him back."

"It must have been heartbreaking for him."

You turn around after watching the powder completely dissolve in the bubbling water, before steeping the tea bag. "I want to break him further. That way, he will have no hope for a relationship with me."

Naja clicks his tongue, shaking his head gently. "You have a capacity for cruelty."

"It's for the best."

"Perhaps. I am no master of love."

"(last name)!" Bete comes out of her tent, her dusky skin gleaming like polished onyx under the icy moonlight. She embraces you but you don't reciprocate it. "You had me so worried when you didn't come home last night. Where were you?"

"I was with someone," You ignore how she called the circus 'home'. "How are you, Bete? Here, have some tea. Naja, you too."

You pour them a mug and hand them out, before sitting on one of the benches that circled the fire. You watch as Bete takes a sip.