He was just a boy searching for a reason to go through the darkest night. And she was a girl trying to light up other people's lives. Yet, in each other, they found a home to watch the sunrise in the morning sky.
[bungo stray dogs ── dazai osamu]
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THE IDEA OFREADING people's memories was something (Y/N) never liked. There is so much that comprehends a person; so many feelings, remembrances, and pain that leak through the small images that we build in our minds, painting every lived situation. It was strange to see so much in the blink of an eye.
Although she wished to be a writer exactly to register that kind of thing, it didn't seem right to break this privacy without consent; to her, the human interactions and the impressions we built when understanding others were the true beauty of writing.
She wanted to know people, in small and insignificant details, bringing their humanity to the fore. She wanted to know their souls and feelings, seeing with her own eyes and not with the blur of their memories.
Her heart longed to understand others and eternalize them with words, not to turn them into lifeless, purposeless objects; to hear their voices and not use them in someone else's favor. There was a difference in that.
Nonetheless, now (Y/N) was in front of a man she knew nothing about, ready to invade his mind and read his memories without any kindness, moved by the ugliest feelings and desires that lay within people like Ougai Mori.
At her right side was Dazai, arms crossed with a bored expression, making evident his disinterest in that situation.
His subordinates took care of all the guards easily, bathing the floor of the warehouse with so much blood that (Y/N) would never forget the horror of that scene.
Everything around her looked like the transcribed image of violence and death. And she felt like a lifeless doll, incapable of breaking the shell that surrounded her.
Wrecking other people's minds was wrecking herself, killing the parts of her soul that kept her going.
The acrid smell of blood and flesh mixed with the gunpowder made her feel sick. She wanted to sleep and wake up being a different person, in a different place.
With a deep breath, the girl closed her eyes for an instant. Her tight, rigid knuckles were pressed against the palm of her hands, still hidden in the pockets of her blue coat.
"You can start now, (Y/N)-chan," the boy said in an apathetic, low tone.
It frightened her how Dazai could spark so many feelings and humanity inside her while he seemed just a living body without a soul. Seeing how less all that killing meant to him pained her heart and she was not sure why.
Inhaling slowly, the girl glanced at him and started to walk forward, getting close to the man who was seated in a chair with tied arms.
He looked to be around 30 years old. His simple and large suit made him seem almost a normal and harmless person. Yet, one gaze at his face was enough to notice the dark and sharp eyes hidden behind his curled bangs, giving him an intimidating air that matched the evil smile discretely drawn in his mouth.
