Chapter 2
The Setting Sun
The sun shined brightly overhead on 27 of the April 1925. The day was filled with little one's laughter: innocent giggles brightened the day of the people walking about the station. But between the brightened faces a withered body was drooping and bumping into the people passing by.
"Dazai, can you please stop slouching", Sakunoske, a fairly striking man told Dazai.
Dazai, who looked like a bird whose feather are being slashed, spoke,
"But Odasaku I believed you would understand"
In return Odasaku sighed: a sigh filled with utter despair. Of course he understood how it must have felt when Dazai with all his might and courage asked his crush to come along with him and was rejected because his crush had a date fixed with someone else. But that doesn't mean that the universe has ended and Dazai can't find someone else to have a happy life with.
Angou has been walking 5 meters away from the pair, while focusing on his book in hand, which he utterly failed. One and only thought was running through his brain: I am not with them. I am not with them. I am-
After a great tug of war between Odasaku and Dazai, Dazai finally agreed to try to be more enthusiastic about the exhibition and seminar that followed. There is a waka poetry completion as well, not that Dazai cared about it. His plan of a perfect romantic date was deteriorated so how the poor boy can be happy? It's when that foolish thought strike again:
"Am I really designated to someone else?"
Dazai shrugged the foolish thought off his mind. After all love is nothing but a chemical reaction that take place in your brain. And he crushing on that boy is the effect of mere teenage hormone. So what's the fuss is about? There is no such thing called designated, he can love anyone regardless of anything.
Chuuya seated himself straight on the tatami cushion: he didn't even realize that he was leaning forward. He looked proudly at the letter he just wrote now. His request and poems are ready to be sent. He planned to send his poems to a different news paper that have been read throughout Japan. It was a good way to gain readers that way. He sealed his letter and went to post it. He has to hurry and be done with all the tasks because the following day was supposed to be spent out with Kobayashi and Taro at the exhibition. Chuuya wore his sandals and stepped outside his apartment and descended the staircase. He looked up to the bright sky and smiled; tomorrow is going to be great.
As expected of exhibition Chuuya can find much more about his favorite poet: Arthur Rimbaud, Paul Verlaine, Miyazawa Kenji and many others. A smile was plastered on his face all the time as he discovered all the new facts from the life of other poets. Each fact was fascinating and new. Chuuya burst into a genuine laugh that tears started rolling down his cheeks. Laughing felt like meeting an old friend who couldn't muster up even a few minutes for you in quite a long while. And Chuuya met this old friend out of oddest of the odd reasons: A thought. Chuuya wondered if someone would remember that there lived a boy, a prodigy, who deliberately failed a grade and carried the weight of humiliation so that he can get to choose a job of his choice; a lonely poet who stayed in jail for a month because he broke a lamp post when he wasn't even sober (he stopped drinking whisky from then onwards and settled for wine and sake); a self conscious person who, despite being surrounded by many acquaintances, singed the songs of solitude.
Chuuya couldn't stop giggling for about a minute, but the laugh of amusement soon started to transform into sobbing of sorrow. Before Kobayashi could notice this, Chuuya took his leave and ran to the washroom. He didn't share a second glance with the people he bumped into; he could only mutter out a quite sorry: the lad couldn't speak more loudly due to his hoarse voice. He had just entered the washroom when his tear duct could hold no more and started freely falling as he weeps his sorrow away. Chuuya cried at the smelly place which smelled shit while people outside were enjoying, just like when sky weeps everyone is filled with utter joy for the curse of hot and dryness is lifted off their shoulders. Though, a crying ginger is of no use for anyone so shushing him was quite important. Chuuya knew that crying would yield nothing that's why he tried to calm his racing heart and rapid breathing. He can't let this meaningless melancholy consume him whole. He is capable of putting a leash on this forming depression for if he would then this rabid dog will devour him. And he is no ways letting it do that: at least when he will found how to vanquish the pain he is receiving from his contracting heart. It's literally suffocating him. Out of blue he felt a hand rubbing his back. The figure at his back was trying to say something but he felt too numb to listen any of it. When the person felt Chuuya not calming at all they pressed him to their chest. This time Chuuya's brain could interpret the words. A panic voice told him:
YOU ARE READING
Last Hope (Soukoku)
Fanfiction"They don't teach what I want to be taught", Said a ginger to his friend. "It's because you only wants to be taught literature and Philosophy",Tarõ said in return. For Chūya his life has always been an implied inconvenience and covered with so much...
