Chapter 1

Nullified or deprived?

Rust, blood-coloured eyes- the eerie colour of red that symbol that stained the hands of the Port Mafia; ran inside the bodies of the hardened criminals, serving to remind them of how truly human and fallible they were regardless of how much power and control they try to exert on those they try to bring to submission. It was one of that reasons why Dazai was wary and scared of humans, as much as they feared him.

It was possible that the lady who birthed him feared what he stood for, the ties that linked him and the Mafia being reminded to her every time she saw his ruby eyes. His memories were stained black, the dust and musk of closed closets with darkness as his constant companion. She preferred to ignore his existence (out of sight, out of mind). Dazai couldn't remember her silhouette, straining himself to see anything those days. The closed compartments were potential safe-spots where no one could hear a peep about those who choose to hide in there.

That choice had been taken away from him, quite early on. She didn't want to hear his wails, the pleas and screams of a baby who cried for food, for attention, scared from the world and what it had to offer- it was unknown territory, far too much to explore. She didn't want to see his attention on her, blood swivelling in those teary, glassy eyes as his hands reached out to his caregiver, the figure that should have protected and guided him through his new life. And so, he lay immobilized in that claustrophobic space, too young to move and explore the space and reach out to the surface to touch and learn more about his environment. His voice was pointlessly droning out, washing into the nothingness as the soundproof surfaces made it seem like he was born deaf instead; his eyes was tightly covered so that it no longer scared his mother. That compartment had been scented again and again as she tried to erase any and every evidence that he existed, erasing any proof that he left behind that indicated that he was alive.

But she was too scared to completely abandon him to succumb to hunger and thirst, he was Mafia progeny- his father would take offence at the murder of his kin- the Mafiosi lived a life where it wouldn't be strange if they died the very next day, the powerful organization always teetered under the threat of collapsing by rival companies and even by the government. High risk, high reward.

The man might have been used to death, but it definitely gave him an excuse to get rid of her at the display of blatant hostility. It was enough incentive to keep the child in the delicate balancing act between life and death.

Thus, Dazai learned very early on that his struggles didn't account to anything. The little mobility that he gained as he survived was utilized to give him vision on his left eye. He was far too terrified to embrace the world and all it could offer. A push on the door opened it with a little creak and the light that fell upon him hurt horribly. A book fell right on his head as he would, later on, learn to identify just where he had been stored. He hastily tried to close the door, his instinct screaming at him that if it was ever found that he could have access to the lady, he might be locked here until she remembered to sustain him. He couldn't bring himself to move recklessly, flinching under that gaze of hers as her intent leaked from her gestures. He was also too weakened to bring that kind of strength outside.

In that cold and dark place where the surfaces were so smooth it didn't add any characteristics to the place he lived in, his curiosity, fuelled by desperation for stimulation made him take risks like keep his ears close to the door to hear the sound, observe the lady move around and allowing a beam of light to illuminate the books with strange characters and figures to keep himself occupied. He simply couldn't help himself as it felt like an eternity passed under the pain that his starving stomach put him under, almost seeming like it chose to consume him when surrounded by emptiness. He simply couldn't stop himself from lifting those bandages and letting light illuminate his surroundings until he saw silhouettes and shadows. He wouldn't dare open it to take in more information, understanding exactly what that lady thought of his eyes. If she knew that he was exposing those eyes to freely roam the world…

His limbs seemed to be too large to fit the space as time flowed and the dim surroundings that accompanied Dazai made him press his nails into his skin as his jaw ached with teething fevers. But the few meals, the times where the doors opened as harsh fingers gripped and dug itself into his skin gave him relief as it alarmed him. It was in those times as he had to learn that she couldn't stand the expressionless look on his face, his eyeballs under those transparent bandages that wore enough to show her translucent figure. His eyes absorbed everything like a thirsty traveller on a desert as he wobbled his mouth into the two directions, he felt that he could reach out. One made her drop him like he was scalded and he crashed into the floor (downwards as his lips twitched) as air escaped his body, one more thing stolen from his tiny grabby hands. The other made her grip painfully into him, and so he figured he'd keep that if not, only for that sensation. His own growing nails played a poor substitute for those times as he didn't know when that door would open again and there was nothing grounding him or letting him know about the flow of time.

He could play back all of those encounters again and again, especially when she realized that he was growing into an age where he could potentially take care of himself. He supposed that he could agree with that as he was able to open the door and sneak around to find food for himself. He was forgiven as long as she wasn't aware of his presence. But then… the house was always dark and he didn't have the courage yet to completely remove those rotting bandages. If those remains were spotted by her, what would she do to him?

The books in that cupboard, as few as they were, were completely consumed by him as he ended up learning the contents by pure correlation from the images and the noticing words that came together. Sometimes he had hidden under the sofa as he listened to her voice. It was the same for him either way, they crushed him and gave him no breathing space. Her pattern of movement, her daily actions were completely familiar to him as he watched and observed her until she met his peering eyes and shivered in utter disgust until she approached him with a compass and tried stabbing those rusted, ruby eyes. He moved into the darkness at that, but he couldn't help but feel choked at the shame that rushed into him at the sheer greed that the curiosity inside him demanded of him.

Nothingness encompassed his everyday life as darkness and silence plagued him from his earliest memories. Thoughts flooded his mind, abstract initially but warped into structured, coherent thoughts as he learned to read and as he stole enough from his surroundings to populate his mind. There was truly nothing in that space, no indentations or spots that were memorable enough to keep his mind occupied. For anything that could stand out, occupied his brain like a loud cacophony as it was utterly starved of sensation and information. It impulsively hoarded anything that added colour to his world. He was aware of how he appeared in his mother's eyes. He had seen his reflection on her eyes as he looked upon her. It was nothing like the beautiful traits that the people in those books carried around.

As the days went by, he realized that the bandages served no purpose anymore. His brain deemed the other eye as useless as it never gave it any signals reflecting the state of the world and he couldn't help but lock himself in that spot as he sobbed for …something. It terrified him at the thought that his brain would start taking things from him if he didn't give it anything and so he started chattering to himself, repeating everything she said, everything those books said. He took up scratching tallies into his skin to remind his brain that he could still sense, despairing at how little feedback was being sent back. It passed time, but now he was paralyzed with fear at how things were fading into nonexistence and he'd be a living dead soon if things progress this way. If things went on like this, his brain could only cannibalize on itself, recursively processing old information as they would warp into unrecognizable messes as he'd never be able to sense anything else.

There was a period, the critical development period after which, the underdeveloped child of age 13 would grow up stunted. Dazai was rapidly entering that age, with a couple of years that would lead into that and he'd have to settle with never feeling enough, surrounded by this fuzzy numbness.

"Ah… I want to die."

The paint in the house that she kept around for house renovations had been his best bet to find a compromise. Maybe it would give him a bit more freedom if they got rid of one of the things that made him catch her ire, but brushing that paint over his right eye(it was pretty useless anyway he figured) made him double over in the intense pain that whitened his vision as the garish sensation conquered him as he hurried over to a corner as his every body part was screaming for him to take care of the delicate organ. Hot tears pooled as he let out hushed gasps. He wanted to slip out of existence, unable to bear either extreme. He begged for mercy, a gentle danse macabre and be lulled into nothingness.

His hunger never made itself apparent, but dizziness washed over him when he teetering over that edge. It made him apprehensive to reach for food as whatever he took out of the fridge could possibly alert the lady of the house of his cohabiting the space. The missing food products would be evidence on itself that he lived for another day and they were dwindling with every time he procrastinated the issue to another day. Hunger pangs were horrible and he'd prefer his stomach being hungry instead of insufferably begging him for attention, like those children in those books (one he was never allowed to be).

There was a thought that came to him so that it could serve his purpose in both ways. The house had a dog with was handsomely healthy. It was fed regularly, and it wouldn't be harmed if some of its nutrition went 'missing'. It was an alternative to eating the dirt and mud, but the lady was paranoid and would mistake perturbed ground as infiltration, so this would have to do. He simply had to trick his stomach into thinking something of sustenance is coming down. Then, even if what he was eating was poison, he'd be able to pass peacefully, wouldn't he?

The dog certainly didn't appreciate his tactic, but the pain was acceptable. He wasn't even surprised enough for the plan to fail, so he simply brought back his limping figure, after eating the little food he scored for himself. The bite stung and he felt a great deal of annoyance towards 'man's best friend'. He supposed that the lady's impressions of him were greatly warranted, given how little patience he felt for the creature that was portrayed so lovingly in that literature.

Eventually, though its daily struggles with trying to keep that food for itself and the reduced portions started weakening it as it weakened, yet kept himself alive. With that, the protector of the house wasn't given the treatment it had been given at the start and Dazai saw that it was happening again. Diminishing sustenance and a fiercer fight for the food. It definitely helped as it turned out around that time, that he saw the food in the fridge that was left- it was laced with something.

Dazai's morbid mind asked him to dip the food with the silverware stored in the safe. And lo and behold, the food corrupted the metal black. The lady was slowly gaining confidence that she would be safe even if the kid in the house dropped dead like the countless rats that succumbed to rat poison.

A couple of days later, the dog died and he overheard the pet doctor that visited them tell her that it died of starvation with an estimate of the days the creature was starved for. As the judgemental eyes of the doctor directed towards the woman, she seemed to be coming to a realization of her own and the child couldn't help but frown bitterly.

As he saw viciousness express itself on her visage, he understood that sticking around would only end up painfully for him. But he thought he'd just have to stay still and things would wrap up beautifully and wait until the curtains could close on his tale. He'd just have to compromise on the pain just this one time. He sighed as the wind took away any remaining will to live along with it.

But to his chagrin, things proceeded differently. She had moved to the fridge and took something to eat and finalize her plans and Dazai couldn't help but sigh at his misfortune. He had previously laced the remaining food in the fridge in hopes to deter himself from choosing to relieve himself from the suffering of food poisoning by eating dog food…

That day marked her end and he had, for the first time in his life approached her from his end. The close proximity left a strange feeling budding inside of him. If she was the one to bring him to this life, he wondered what name would she'd dain to bless him with? It was as she predicted long beyond, that his existence would be the one to lead her to her death. The death of a parent should invoke grief and tears from within him, but here he was, utterly numb with haunting tiredness. He would have tried to join her, but she wanted to be as far away from him as she could and there was no longer any food in the house. This situation was a lot like how he felt when he realized that his other eye was abandoned by his brain once it found that it was a useless, resource drain.

There was one thing he could do right now. Traces in the house hinted at the information of the Port Mafia and how it influenced her. If she was as right as she had been, it would be a place where he'd fit right in, and maybe amidst all that violence- he'd get his ticket.

He slouched, looking utterly defeated.

"Ah… I want to die"