![]() He contemplated idly in hopes of an afterlife better than the life of his own: Oda’s light hand would rest on a shoulder, grounding him and reminding him of the elemental sighs he breathed, stranger than the moon’s glow. There was no god or salvation to be spared for Dazai, and his death ridden hands.ĭazai wasn’t a spiritual man. Religion had lost him to the hopeless shadows that swam through channels of black blood. His ascension to mafia boss had refined his being into nothing short of the polished steel that made up the sharp blade of his ex-partner’s knife. Alone and unloved by death for the most of his life, what better joy to finally meet his two companions it was, than to live and remember that it was he who remained the root to their misfortune.ĭazai wasn’t a spiritual man. How very poetic, to waste away until he was reduced to nothingness by the slow passage of time. The mirror stood loyal, at the corner of the room and Dazai could see the life reflected in his own eyes diminish slowly like a flame clinging to the end of its wick. There was no greater sorrow than to recall happiness in times of misery. The groaning of settling floorboards kept him awake at night with foreboding the cup of herbal tea offered him no solace in a room full of whispering shadows. The fear of death which had been long lost in the ashes of a hopeful little boy had risen back to strike him again like a phoenix. A sense of déjà vu overcame him and suddenly, the same apprehension of a lesser animal caught under the sight of a predator tightened his chest, twisting his a corkscrew against his sternum, sinking past the cage of sheltered lungs to remind him that he was very much a human capable of dying at any moment. A whole history lay behind the silver that spread itself like a thin timeline against the mirror’s background, and Dazai found that he would be lying he said he hadn’t believed in the possibility that something haunting within the mirror existed.ĭazai felt eyes upon him when he turned his back on it later that night. ![]() Its ornate framework whispered of century old secrets, and the scratches that marred the smooth expanse of glass that delivered him his daunting reflection spoke of careless owners and violent upbringings. The mirror watched him, silent as the dead when Dazai let his gaze settle on its shiny figure. ![]() I can taste you, slipping through my hands
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