PIED PIPER | dazai osamu

16: primordial: Eden resurrected. *

A/N: Sexual and religious content ahead.

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You don't end up going home that afternoon; although it was a foolish decision on your behalf, your recklessness based on the folly in walking outside as if there wasn't a war waged between the two organisations of Yokohama and the Guild, your limbs felt as though they were buzzing. You thought that a short walk would alleviate that agitation and yet it only served to stir up more worry.

You take a short walk in the orange-flooded park. At least, what remained of the park and its rubble-and-concrete debris, trees knocked over and their barks sticking out like fangs. But it didn't deter your determination to enjoy a peaceful walk.

You know why you're so nervous. This feeling of emptiness inside of you, this hunger for knowledge, the itch of your hunch and the clawing of your subconscious. You know what you should do next, and yet, the typical, trivial issues of the female mind begin to barricade your psyche into doubt and fear.

What if he doesn't want to? What if he doesn't like the way you look underneath your clothing, underneath the foamy coat of bubbles and water? What if he hates the feeling of your bare skin, no longer slippery from the body wash? What if your vagina wasn't the "right" size? What if you made weird noises? What if he decided he didn't want to be with you anymore?

What if having sex with him only proved of your sullied self, that bottomless pit of your self-imposed loneliness?

Your worry makes your brows furrow. You cross your arms as though you were angry; the pigeons that were pecking at the ground mindlessly before you paid no heed to your internal conflict, their beady eyes flickering from the darkening sky to the pavement. You rub your eyes with your hands.

But the bottom line was, you wanted to have sex with the man that you've been living with for so long. That be chaste or lustful, you want this man to crave you more than the degree of necessity. You want that man to touch you like he was Adam scouring the female body for the first time.

You want, you want, you want—this martyrdom without malady, this vicious voracity for meat, with hesitation from your heavy heart you call love. The word stings in your throat, but the feelings that they bring soothe the wound with its honeyed memories.

But the sting returns when you think about your intentions. Is it not selfish to have sex with him just so you could have things finally turn out your way? You want to erase the underlying intentions away from the act of intercourse and distort the truth with the fact that you loved him, but you knew, you knew in your very bones, your aching loins, that whatever you were planning on doing tonight was going to entail in something greater. The thought makes you shrink in on yourself: What is wrong with you? How do think like that, how do you think of someone like that, nonetheless, the man you've loved for so long?

You inhale sharply. The sky was turning orange to purple. The sun was setting over the horizon, the salty, stinging ocean, and the night breeze was beginning to intertwine with the warm winds of a spring afternoon. The leaves overhead rustled, and your heart pounded when your shoes hit the ground running.

He wants you, right? Dazai wants you. How could he not? How could he, with the demonic appetite, whetted by your spell since his dark years and insatiable since then, not want you? His depthless appetite was unanswered by those willing to indulge him: From strippers to prostitutes to college girls looking for a quick, thrilling fuck. He had incarnated you into these girls, and yet, he would be disgusted with the act of this mating that they would end up as a boneless, crumpled mess by his feet with a bullet in their heads.