"Shall i burn to eternity in the flames of your love."
Umekui raises her gaze to the painting before her.
A youthful smile worn by an orange-haired boy reflects in her eyes. His eyes, so blue and clear, appeared to be a collision of millions of sea in a single torrent of bright blue light radiating from his stare.
"If I tell you that we are helping a princess chased from her own kingdom, will you laugh, Chuuyaa?" Umekui asks softly, with a sorrowful smile.
She lifts her hand to brush across his cheek but flinches back once she only feels the cold-dried painting under her palm.
"Ne, Chuuya?" Her voice shaking and heavy with terror, she murmurs again, "Are you too lost in the shadows that I can't feel you anymore?"
All that could answer her was silence.
She chuckles laughing at her foolishness and immorality;
(How dare she ask him that? How could she call his name and seek him out when she is the reason he is lost in this darkness with no light to guide him?
Like the light that you throw into the mad sea, letting the waves of cruelness swallow it raw, leaving it empty, dead, silent.
(With no dream reverberating through an opus that reminds her of Chuuya, with no meaning that burned from his blue eyes like gleaming sparks)).
She smiles regretfully, her eyes obscuring as she recognizes how miserable and awful she is. She gets up on her knees, grabs the portrait, proceeds to the closet, places it inside, refuses to look at the other portraits hidden inside, and closes the closet door loudly.
She leans against the closet and wonders how many portraits and faces she needs to paint. How many horrors and tragedies does she need to relive in her conscience without sleeping for an hour to bury them and finally perish in peace?
Maybe if she turned her back on those names, those tragedies, those empty promises slithering into her shadow, they would finally let go her, loosening the threads with a hiss of venom.
(But then, she can't help but laugh aloud at the absurdity of her condition—how could she conceivably own a shadow when her soul was ripped, taken, and split apart by some god?).
She looks up at the starry night she painted on her ceiling, letting her gaze wander over memories bound inside this closet that might make stars drop tears of sorrow and heavens laugh in derision.
"Kill it."
'meow'
"Kill it, Dazai. What are you waiting for?"
She recoils at the cruel nature in Mori's voice. Her lifeless stare is fixed on Kiki, the adorable orange cat Chuuya had offered her.
"But why?" she croaked, her tiny figure shaking with terror
Mori let out a grim chuckle, "'Why'? Listen, Dazai. What you have is something no one else can have; your power and curse are entirely mine. Don't forget that without me, the world would have used it for their greedy purposes."
He crunches down before Dazai, reaching out a gloved hand to stroke her cheek.
"But I saved you, right, Dazai? And you helped me keep this throne within the mafia? He murmurs with a smirk, his eyes failing to disguise the evil and malice that burns inside them. "So you must do what I say-" he grips her cheek hard, causing it to bruise red, blue, and violet in a way that will itch her to disguise it with her bandages.
"Kill it, Dazai. It's the last time I'll repeat the order," he adds sternly, tearing his hand from her cheek and throwing her body to the ground close to the orange cat.
Her trembling crimson eyes focus on the orange cat licking his paws, then on Mori-sama's brilliant blazing amethys bloody eyes.
"Kill it while using Prisoner 321 ability."
YOU ARE READING
the silence of despair. ONE PIECE
Fanfiction"Tell me dazai why is it you wish to die"? Can a soul still assert its existence when it has no desire to live and is instead taking an outline of readiness for death? If all that is left of a person is their wounded heart and their voice, how can...
