circus tent

Dazai had never known how to react. He knew watching well - he watched blood pour out of gunshot wounds, watched Mori slit the Old Boss’ throat, watched Chuuya’s beatific dance of destruction every time it was deemed needed. But that’s the extent of his natural abilities.Dazai knew only to watch, but never to react. He was not built to interact like that. He was not meant to be anything more than a passing spector, watching the coming and going of mortal lives.Dazai had never known how to react. But he’d learnt to act. It was necessary, and inevitable. He was a ghost made to puppet mortal flesh, and that meant that one way or another he would be seen and he would affect those around him - no matter how much he detested it.So Dazai had learnt to act. He wasn’t very good at it. He knew jokes eased social pressure. He knew comedy would help him slip through conversations. And so he fashioned himself a clown. Not a very good one, but a clown nonetheless! His eerie blankness hidden behind an act of jovial foolishness. What a joke! It was the comedy of the century, a true magnum opus! And so Dazai built his circus tent.