Chrysanthemum Garden [Dazai x Reader] ✓

29. A simple ideal

'Let me die in peace!'

I desperately wrapped my fingers around the doorknob but found the act of opening the door futile – it was locked. Mother had the key but I couldn't risk going near her with my eye exposed.

'What sort of person wants to die in vain in a fire?!' I yelled back at her, letting the fire consume my hands as I set fire on the door, hoping that – just this once – the true peril of my ability would be unleashed and burn it right down.

My skin may be immune to fire, but my lungs were not.

The heat made me sweat. The smoke I began inhaling made me cough onto the sleeve of Dazai's jacket.

Why do you ḯ̶̌̀̆͝n̵̺͑ś̶̾î̴s̵t̴̲͓̔ on letting her live?

I lowered myself to my knees and felt the floorboards behind me with my hand, hoping that by some miracle, my eye-patch would still be intact; I gasped as my fingers brushed against the familiar cotton padding, and I adjusted it quickly to my face.

Let her die, [Y/N]. You've always w̶a̴̓̈́́n̸te̵d̴̚ her gone – besides, I wouldn't let her get away with what she did to Dazai; she left him to d̵̂̈́͝r̵̍o̵̎w̵n, remember?

Gathering the tail of the beige jacket in my hands hurriedly, I avoided the flames and ran up to her – the other side of the room; she was lying peacefully still, her arms revealed over the covers as the head gathered and a layer of dampness generated on her skin. She ignored my orders to get out of bed.

'I'm not giving you a choice!' I coughed out, dragging her out by the fabric of her shirt with one hand as I hid my mouth and nose in my elbow. 'As a higher-ranking member of the Mafia, you ought to listen to me –'

She reached for her knife and slashed it deeply against my arm. A trail of crimson appeared on the sleeve, growing vividly by the second. She pulled herself up and glared down at me, her bloody weapon drooling my crimson substance. 'Why are you so persistent?!'

My throat burned. My arm stung. I felt dizzy... If I faint here, the fire will stop...

I backed away from her and slowly made my way for the window, straining to push them apart; I aimed for the glass with my elbows, desperately letting the night air in as droplets of blood blotched the otherwise immaculate window sill – shards of glass painted blue by the night sky, tainted red with my own blood.

Look down, [Y/N]; the Agency ȃ̴b̷an̵̄̉̕̚d̷̙̱̄on̷ed̵̄͝ you! – No, look! Just earlier you saw three detectives gathered around the man you shot, but now there's none!

You actually considered them your friends? You said f̷ri̸en̸d̶̀s are there for each other – that's what you told Akutagawa – but they are n̵͘o̵̓̒̈̅t̴̎̾̀ here. They've left you in the dark.

You d̶̈es̸̎̀e̶̽r̵̅v̷e̸̅̐ it. You betrayed them.

Just for argument's sake, let's say they trusted you: you've done nothing except become a nuisance to them, from the moment you interrupted their daily workload with your presence down to your most recent show: you shot Dazai right in front of his subordinate.

You s̶̓̅c̸are̸ me, [Y/N].

"Eccentric monsters cannot settle on a feeling or idea." – The Agency doesn't ẃ̷̛̐̕͝a̸n̵̔t̴ detectives like that.

They're going to let you d̴̝̹̔ͅiė̷̂́ here. Al̸ò̵nė̴̏.

'Is what you're doing that important?' Mother began calmly, approaching me slowly while looking back at the fire behind us. 'I could've sworn you told me to perish once; what was that all about? You don't want me to die?'