HE’S UNSURPRISED. She would know, she is a girl of flowers, after all — And flowers, to be frank, aren’t Dazai’s forte. And neither is he much for aesthetics. But he appreciates the thought behind these Calla lilies, for it’s almost like preparation for this upcoming departure of this damnable world! But it’s more than just that, really, perhaps Dazai sees the connection, perhaps not — but make no mistake for it’s there.
❝ Why, isn’t Kyouka-chan a smart one? ❞ He smiles, and he laughs for a moment.
Suicide tree?Say no more! — ‘cause that’s more than enough to pique Dazai’s interests ( for there is no one other than Dazai Osamu himself who’s so enthusiastic about suicide, at least one would hope so ). ❝ Paralyzes the heart, you say … ? ❞ Oh no, there’s that smile of his — The one that looks like it’s up to no good ; yeah, that smile!
❝ Ah — ❞He picks one of the flowers from the bundle he carries, he holds it towards Kyouka, and no, he doesn’t bear the same intention that whoever sent them to him — He would never, at least not to her! ❝ Want one? ❞ It’s an honest innocent question — If she thought they were beautiful, then why not share? And besides, he has no use for these flowers other than to have the whither away in his apartment room.
◣ ✿ ◥ Memorising facts was different than being smart, Kyouka thought, but she merely nodded at the compliment and didn’t argue against it. People like Dazai and Ranpo were smart–oh well. Dazai was allowed to have his own opinions on the matter; she couldn’t stop him from thinking even if she disagreed with the result.
“It probably hurts,” she pointed out upon seeing his smile, “quite a bit.” One thing she picked up on was the man’s aversion to pain, and a poison that paralysed the heart muscles sounded painful to her. She didn’t bring it up with the intention of giving him something new to try, of course. (Maybe it wouldn’t even kill him if he did try. He had quite a failing streak no matter what he did.)
Either way, she wouldn’t speak more on the subject or other things she knew about it. There were plenty of other things to mention if she wished to have an avid discussion about it–such as Aokigahara, the suicide forest, for example–but she did not and would not.
She blinked, then reached out to accept the flower and looked down at it as she held it before her chest. It really was a pretty flower, and that didn’t surprise her. Beautiful things often brought death.
Ah, but where to put it? She already had flowers in her hair, and there wasn’t a good place in her kimono. Perhaps she’d just hold onto it until she could put it in a cup of water. “Thank you.”
