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Dazai stared at the little box of pills surrounded by empty bottles of sake on his shabby little side table. He’d left them there days ago and had been ignoring them ever since, but today…
He really should toss out those bottles.
They gently clinked together as he walked a plastic grocery bag full of them out to the recycling. The sun was setting, dyeing everything in vivid colors. Far away, a bird was crying out. Dazai looked up to the red stained clouds, the breeze making his coat whip around his ankles.
The bottles crashed against the metal bottom and the bird stopped calling. Dazai went back inside.
The pills were still there, waiting for him, as they had been ever since his last doctor’s visit.
It really was a wonder they hadn’t shown up before.
Dazai tossed himself onto his futon and tried not to think.
Staring at his ceiling bought him a little more time before he’d be forced to.
He imagined that to an outsider his reluctance wouldn't make much sense. The pills sounded almost magic with how the doctor described them. The world would be less boring, he’d have an easier time getting out of bed, he’d be happier…he’d want to live.
Dazai had never really wanted to live before. Choosing not to kill himself wasn’t the same thing. Changing that didn’t seem like a promise those tiny white pills could fufil. Maybe it would for other people, but Dazai had been like this his entire life. It was part of him, twisted over and tangled into his being.
He wasn’t sure who he’d be without it.
He thought of walking down to the river and throwing himself in again but the seasons were changing and it was no longer the right weather for it.
Dazai didn’t want to wallow in his own self pity, and this felt like wallowing. He should eat. It was a bit early to think about dinner, but he could go for a walk beforehand.
With that plan in mind, he dragged himself upright again and left his apartment. He had the vague urge to see the river and so he meandered in that direction. The bird had started up again; the only steady sound on the empty street. Dazai passed privacy fences with chipped and peeling paint and the evenly placed trees the city had planted along the concrete sidewalk.
Color was fading from the world as the sun sank lower. When Dazai reached the river, what little starlight could be seen and the glow of the city danced on the small ripples on the surface of the deep black water.
Dazai sat down on the embankment and watched the river flow. He thought again that it was much too cold to jump in.
The pills might take away that longing.
He slid down the hill to kneel at the water’s edge. His fingertips dipped into the chilly water.
An old friend, an old enemy…
This river represented a hope.
Suddenly he felt like crying.
Dazai stood and put his hands back into his pockets. His eyes closed and he breathed deeply until the feeling receded.
There were other hopes. None of them held as much sway in his heart. Dazai had clung to the promise of the end like a lost child even as he’d searched for a way to live on.
When he opened his eyes the river was still flowing quietly in front of him.
Dazai didn’t know what the pills would do to him. Maybe they’d make that promise of comfort wholly unnecessary. The river would still be here for him after.
He should eat.
He climbed the embankment to the sidewalk and took the path alongside the bank.