Word count: 2122
"And then, as we all know, our Lord created the earth as we know it. Creating us all in his image in the hopes that his creations may one day be just as great as he is, though unfortunately some people living upon the surface of our Lord's beautiful creation have become lost. They have given themselves in to the beckoning image of sin; they have given up the purity that our Lord so generously bestowed upon them at birth and sullied it, some doing so unknowingly, others doing so purposefully. It is important to learn the distinction between these two types of sinner, one may reconcile with our Lord and be forgiven with guidance from the welcoming embrace of people like us, our Lord's faithful messengers. The other is beyond the help of even the best among us-vile creatures that seek out sin, whose souls have become infected and fester with it at their very core-only our Lord is able to bring them true salvation, and so such sinners are the ones we send directly to our Lord above. Entrusting them to his capable hands to rid them of the impurities plaguing them, to set them free, and welcome them into his warm embrace. Now that we've completed our recap, let us move onto the preparations that each of these sinners go through in order to give them the best chance possible at properly reconciling with our Lord," came the monotonous, dry voice of Fyodor's religious studies teacher as he paced around the front of the class.
Fyodor sat in the very back row of the classroom, a seat which he had made sure to secure by arriving early on their first day for two reasons: one being that he was less likely to be called upon in class; the other was that with the angle at which his desk stood and thanks to the many desks ahead of his own, you couldn't see underneath his desk very well from the front of the room. Fyodor, of course, took full advantage of this, deciding to reclaim his lost reading time as he sat with a book open on his lap and his eyes glued to the page, resting his face in his hand upon the desk so as to not seem too conspicuous. He already knew all he needed to know about the preparations; his father had even had him perform some of them himself when he was younger, saying it was to prepare him for when he took over his father's title and responsibilities, including overseeing the preparation process.
His father had always been adamant that Fyodor would take his place when he became too old to perform his duties himself; it was what he'd been told would be his future for as long as he could remember. It had been set in stone the moment he had left his mother's womb and was identified as male, a single path lay stretched out ahead of him, a path that his parents had painstakingly carved out for him and made sure to lead him down as thoroughly as they could. He'd never once been asked if this was the future he wanted, as this was the future he would have. The one the Lord had already laid out for him.
"Some of you may be called upon to take part in these preparations or even in the ceremonies themselves in the future!" The teacher droned on, beginning to walk down the aisle between the desks with purpose in his strides. "And so, I suggest certain people pay closer attention!" He gritted out as he reached his destination and slammed his hands down on Fyodor's desk, a sharp glare fixed on the student's face. The sudden noise suddenly dragged Fyodor from his world of safety and sent him plummeting back into his religious studies class as his body gave an involuntary jolt. Disgruntled, he looked up from his book to meet the teacher's glare with one of his own, the two remaining still in a sort of standoff for a good two or so minutes before his teacher looked away from him with a scoff. "Sometimes I wonder how you're Mikhail's son." The man muttered as he held out his hand expectantly, his gaze flicking from Fyodor's eyes to the book on his lap. With a sigh, Fyodor begrudgingly handed the book over, dropping it on the man's hand more so than he dropped it into it. The teacher then returned to the front of the room, leaving Fyodor's book on his desk, before he continued with the lecture.
With his book gone and him already knowing everything they'd be covering in this lecture, Fyodor decided to put his head down on his desk and spend a little time in his thoughts, his mind eventually wandering back to that day's upkeep duty.
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The basement was as damp and cold as it always was as he trudged down the stairs, causing him to shiver as he made his way down. He'd hoped that if he wore his uniform now, he'd be able to set aside a little extra time for him to read before class, but right in that moment, the decision definitely didn't seem to be worth it. Their uniform was made of absurdly thin fabric; it did come with a brown felt coat for the students to wear during the colder months, but when his father saw him attempting to leave wearing it, he demanded he go without it in fear of it getting dirty. He had a standard to uphold. Having his son come into class with a stained and/or damaged coat would certainly bring their family shame within their community. His reputation was worth more than Fyodor's comfort. He reached for the key he'd slotted in his pocket, unlocking the cell door and entering the cramped space before replacing it as he went to deal with the bucket once more.
He returned soon after with the empty bucket, replacing it in the corner before removing the sinner's restraints for it to eat. He sat and waited patiently for it to notice, watching carefully as it took a bite into the first slice and taking delight in the slight widening of its eyes as it tasted the butter on its tongue. Its eyes moved over to Fyodor with a questioning look within them. Fyodor simply gave it a smile back and turned his gaze to the window of the cell. The sinner didn't wait much longer before hurriedly swallowing down the two slices, the man watching in small glances, chuckling as he watched it eat with such gusto. It didn't take long for the bread to disappear, and the water was soon drained from the tankard in turn and landed on the floor of the cell with a sharp thunk. The sinner turned its dull gaze towards him. "Thank you." It spoke simply, its arms going behind its back as it awaited the return of the restraints. Fyodor shuffled across the ground to move closer to the sinner, setting his hand on its shoulder and turning it sharply to face him once again. "Do you have a name, sinner?" He asked, and the sinner paused for a moment in surprise before responding, "It's Osamu. Osamu Dazai." Came its flat voice, clearly mimicking Fyodor's own introduction from the day prior. Fyodor hums in response as he lets his head fall back to rest on the wall behind them. "Do you have any hobbies, Osamu? Is there anything you particularly enjoy doing?" He asked, the sinner's name feeling foreign but at the same time like sweet syrup on his tongue as it left his lips, the forbidden nature of his words making it strangely seem all the more sweeter.
Too sweet.
"I suppose I like to read," came the sinner's smooth voice again. "Oh? And what is it that you like to read, sinner?" He asked, his eyes widening in anticipation. The sinner paused to think for a moment. "It tends to vary, but I'm most drawn to novels with psychological elements the most. Tales that aim to cause the reader's mind to deteriorate alongside the character's" Fyodor pushed himself up from the ground to stand as he picked up the restraints, turning to look the sinner in the eyes. "How peculiar, as do I," he declared with a smirk breaking across his face as he fastened the restraints back around the sinner's arms and mouth, leaving the basement without another word or even a glance back. Despite the eyes, he could feel burning into his back as he made his way back up to the surface.
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Fyodor lifted his head from his desk to glance up at the clock on the wall, finding that the lecture would finally come to an end in just five more minutes. He didn't have much better to do, so he graciously decided to tune in to the final minutes of the lecture, though it was mainly in case the teacher decided to set an assignment for them to do outside of class. As he turned his gaze towards the teacher, he saw his eyes immediately focus on him, the glare from earlier again returning to their surface as he announced the essay he was expecting to be written by next week explaining the preparations made prior to the liberation ceremony. Soon after, he dismissed the class, students beginning to stand up from their chairs and gather their supplies as the majority all left in a large congregation, with a few lagging behind as they packed up, Fyodor being one of them.
As Fyodor packed up, he could still feel the man's eyes on him, the searing gaze following him as he walked down to the front of the room to pass by the teacher and leave through the door. Before he could reach the door however, he was stopped by a call of his name, "Fyodor." His teacher's voice came as he was passing by the desk. "Yes sir?" He replied with a sigh, his face lying flat and unbothered, "You really must start paying attention during class, Fyodor. If you continue to behave as you have been and to act disrespectfully towards me, I will have to inform your father to see if he can get through to you." He chastised with his eyebrows raised. He could feel his body tense as he stiffly nodded to his teacher, muttering an apology before he hurriedly left the room.
His reading could wait until he got home from now on.
He looked down at his timetable with a groan as he found his next class would be mathematics, though thankfully it was the only other class he had that day, so there was at least one small mercy that the Lord had granted him.
Chatter filled his ears as he entered the canteen, a scowl crossing his face as what seemed like thousands of different voices and various other sounds filled his mind, piling up more and more and more until he was sure his head would soon burst. Shaking his head violently, Fyodor pushed on towards the line for food, the money for which being taken from the lunch allowance his father had already prepaid to the school as he reached the counter with his food. He then quickly darted between the mess of students and staff, making his way out onto the courtyard, which was also filled with people but to a much lesser degree. He made sure that none of the staff were watching before he slipped around to the back of the school building, a wooded area that was off limits to students and that had been Fyodor's lunch spot ever since he'd discovered the place last year. It was quiet and free of other people, which was all he really cared about. Sure, there might be the odd insect or two that ended up landing on him or on his food, but he didn't mind so much if it meant escaping that hellscape of a canteen.
Fyodor reached into his bag and pulled out the blanket he had stowed away in there for this specific purpose, laying it out on the snowy surface of the frozen ground so he could sit comfortably and without the risk of damaging his uniform. During the winter, he always did wish that the library would just allow students to bring their food in with them so he wouldn't be stuck outside giving himself frostbite just to get some peace and quiet, but alas, he was stuck out here for the time being.
He supposed the peace was worth it.