◣ dazai ◥ :

「 Are you ware of why anybody would wish to die, Kyouka-chan? It’s not exactly a secret or an unknown truth, so I’m sure you’re smart enough to figure it out. Rather than asking me, why don’t you tell me why I would want to die? 」 These conversations never end well—the party opposite Dazai always dives in with good intentions, but nearly always end up drowning in dark, murky water that Dazai filled their head with. He smiles.   「 It isn’t easy to talk about, isn’t it? And yet here you are, forcing me to! 」

◣ ✿ ◥ What a simple question. “My parents were killed in front of me by Demon Snow, and for three years, I believed it was me who killed them. After being taken in by the mafia afterwards, I killed thirty-five people in six months, and the day I met Atsushi, I was prepared to lose my life taking others with the bomb strapped to my chest. Later, when in custody of the agency, I accepted that I would be executed for my crimes. I even welcomed it because I didn’t want to live with the burden of what I had done.”

In simple terms, yes, she did know why someone would wish to die. If he wanted to question her own motives, so be it; it was easier that way than trying to think of how to bring it up some other time. It was easier to talk once she got started.

“Even after that, getting used to the agency felt like going through the motions in a different way. It was strange and foreign and I didn’t feel as though I truly belonged. I killed thirty-five people. I should be locked up at least, right? Being locked on that plane felt like someone had made the right decision–chained up a monster to keep it from hurting others. Then you kept talking, told me that was a stupid way of thinking, and that just because I’ve hurt people doesn’t mean I can’t help them.”

Kyouka stopped rambling to catch her breath. Her throat throbbed: how long had it been since she’d spoken this much?