side:E / senza controllo [cowt | week 04 | M2]

[hannyakoma]

Prompt: Piangere senza riuscire a smettere
Word count: 1433
Rating: sfw
Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs
Note: OC, parlando della Dark Era.

---

There's a ringing in her ears, after the words Mori Ougai just spoke settle in.

«Oda Sakunosuke is dead. He fell on the battlefield in the conflict with Mimic. Unfortunately, the children he had taken under his wing are among the victims, too. I know you were acquainted with them, so I wanted to tell you personally.»

Mori's voice is apparently grieving for the loss of such a convenient pawn, but his face is neutral. Eyes devoid of emotions, as if he's talking about a trivial matter such as the weather, as if he didn't just say those words out loud.

When the ringing subsides (fortunately shortly after; it took her a few moments, but not too long to openly show the shock in her whole being), Emma blinks a few times.

«Oh. I... understand. I heard of the case from my father and... I'm sorry for your losses.»

Her voice is plain as she pronounces those words. Her face turns from a nice seriousness to nothingness in a matter of seconds, almost flawlessly, but her tone trembles for an instant. And she realizes a moment too late, that she has to control it, to hide it from the man.

A shadow of alarm flashes through green eyes—and Mori knows that that's the best reaction he can get from the young woman.

The curling at the sides of his lips tells her that he won their bet. He can see her breaking from the inside, more and more by the second, despite her attempts to keep it under control. And oh, how he likes to see that.

They continue with their meeting like that and, truth to be honest, Ougai has to commend the young woman’s determination to preserve her pride before him. He ponders about prolong that torture, but in the end he decides to show her some mercy.

«That's everything for now, Emma. I'll let you free now.» the man says, as soon as they have covered the most important matters.

«Thank you, Mori. Then, if you don't need me further, I'll be going.»

The prompt reply definitely gives her away, if the quick steps, taken towards the door after she left the new contract's sheets to Mori, weren't enough of an evidence. She stops at the entrance, turns and bows slightly, before getting out and closing the red doors behind her.

Then, she starts running. As to where, she doesn't know.

She may as well have passed a few acquaintances on her way, but she's not sure. Too devastated to actually care about whatever they might have had to say, or to ask, or anything in general.

No one could speak the words - the beautiful, utter lies - she'd rather want to hear. No one dared, not even herself, nor her father. He would understand, after losing his wife so early in his life, but he couldn't offer the sort of solace Emma so passionately desires.

She's alone with her feelings. She wants to be.

*

When she comes a bit back to her senses, the young woman realizes a few things.

That her surroundings have changed, the sea is now visible, bordered with iron railings. The city centre is a distant image in the background, with its tall, dark skyscrapers.

That her lungs and legs actually hurt from the exertion, and that her breathing is ragged and almost hysterical.

Lastly, but the realization comes only once she's a little more conscious—that she's at the restaurant on the seaside, where she ate an overly spiced curry with seven other people.

In the parking area before the entrance, a large, black stain is still vibrantly visible on the concrete. Some glass shards, the smallest ones that no one bothered to pick up while collecting the remains, still shimmer under the faint sunlight of that day.

Her heart stops for a moment; head spinning, thoughts hazy, vision blurring. Her feet moves on their own towards the familiar place, climbing up a set of stairs and walking down a narrow corridor. The very faint smell of smoke still present, as if the walls are embracing the remnants jealously.

The next thing she knows, and that's also the last, is that she collapses on something soft, already feeling the unstoppable tears streaming down her face. She won’t stop anytime soon, she knows but doesn’t even care.

Emma allows her consciousness to black out, embracing herself and muffling her screams into the mattress.

*

When Osamu Dazai is asked if he has any idea of where young Miss Woodhouse could have gone, he refuses to answer directly. He asks what happened, and once he understood the situation, he instead offers to retrieve the Englishwoman himself, which is considered acceptable due to his acquaintance with her.

After Henry Woodhouse nods solemnly, the Executive is fast on his feet.

Of course, he knows where she is. He has learned many things about Emma in the few years they spent together. Thanks to the time they spoke, yes, but also by his ability to observe people. After finding out about the Mimic incident, and he himself still finds difficult to believe that all that ended at most two weeks ago, a person so deeply and unconsciously  in denial like her would need to make sure that it was the truth.

Even if a well-known little voice in her mind already tells her it's not a lie; even if Mori wouldn't have any reason to lie to her, about that particular topic; even if she knows all these things already, someone like her can't go on with her life, without seeing in person.

So, there he goes.

And there, she is.

Dazai finds the younger teen on the second floor of the house-restaurant, curled up into a ball on the lower level of the bunk bed, in the children's room. From the way the covers around her are tensed, he knows that she must have them tightly held in her hands. He can imagine her knuckles turning white from the force she's gripping them with.

«Emma.» he calls, stepping closer from the entrance with a slow pace. There's no answer.

He tries again, and again, each time with a little more voice and resolution. Still, there is no answer.

Dazai is now right before the bundle of cloth on the bed. He bends down and pulls the covers with a bandaged hand, finding the expected resistance. The young man sighs. Then, he sits on the mattress, his back turned to her and his elbows rested on his knees.

«I won't say I know how you're feeling, but I understand why are you feeling like this.» he begins slowly, carefully choosing his words. "And... I also know that once you break out of this state, you'll try to do something rash and stupid. I'd like to do that too, but I- we can't. I want to keep the promise I made to him, before he passed away. And you... you have something to do, too. I know he'd be sad if you were to consume yourself in rage."

That last part gets a reaction out of the girl, be it something as brief as a spasm of her shoulders. Dazai takes it as a sign to go on.

«'Go to the side that saves people. Become a good person. Save the weak, protect the orphans.' This is what he asked me to do.» he pauses for a moment, as if recalling those exact words—carved deeply in his mind—put a toll on him. With a sharp inhale, he then goes on. «He... understood. He really did. And I want to trust him, Emma. Trust him and follow the path he suggested, as a mentor and a friend.»

It is the first and last time Dazai will speak of this with her.

Among the people he considers more than simple acquaintances, one betrayed him and the other left him. Both left, in different ways.

Then, there's her. Which is, as for now, the closest that he might call a friend. Dazai knows their relationship can still grow, but he's still deadly aware about one more thing.

He already said it in the past, but 'things that we don’t want to lose will definitely be lost'. Meaning that, from the moment he started to try to form a bond with Emma, to try to become 'friends', their future separation has become inevitable.

Such is the fate of people who pursue something—a form of happiness, a person, a reason to live.

 

He knows. And she, judging by her reaction, seems to know, too.