Marie tried to find a plausible explanation.

"I asked you a question."

"Here..."

"How do you know him? Were you already a member of the Mafia?"

"He is no longer a member of the Mafia..."

"So you knew he was a member?"

"I..."

"You're his girlfriend?"

Marie flushed at this statement, but had no time to answer before Verlaine continued with his monologue.

"How pathetic. Everyone calling him the demon prodigy, but then he can't even save his woman from the clutches of the boss. What a pathetic worm."

"I'm not his girlfriend!"

Protested Marie.

It was true. She was definitely not Dazai's girlfriend.

Although, thinking back, Marie couldn't help but think of all the indecent proposals Dazai had made to her from the first moment they had met.

How could she forget that day?

She had been little more than a teenager when that strange boy had entered their lives.

Mori had never given her much in the way of explanations, but her father hardly ever gave her any explanations for his actions.

He simply confronted her with a fait accompli.

When Dazai had entered their lives it was definitely a dark time for both of them, almost dark.

After the war, life had not been kind to them and Mori's profession as a doctor for the worst criminal scum did not help in any way.

Mori kept telling her that it was crucial that no one knew of her existence.

It had been a dark period, but never as dark as the one that followed Mori's rise to power.

Since then, the time they spent together had diminished to the point of almost complete annihilation.

The Mafia boss had no time to devote to his only daughter.

That only daughter that it seemed no one should know existed.

That only daughter kept away from prying eyes.

Kept away from any gaze.

It hadn't taken long before her father's reputation as a doctor for the most disparate criminals had finally reached the ears of the organisation that dominated the nights of Yokohama.

The Port Mafia.

A very difficult client to refuse.

And Mori certainly wasn't going to refuse.

After all, it was the opportunity he had been waiting for all his life.

And soon he found himself as the Mafia's doctor, the first step in his climb to power.

One day, however, a very peculiar case had come into his hands.

"Marie, I found this boy." Mori exclaimed one day.

The little girl looked at him; he did not seem to be doing so well.

"Found him?" She asked doubtfully.

"I saved him from suicide." The man replied with an enigmatic smile.

Marie soon discovered that this was the plain truth.

Her father had indeed saved him from committing suicide, but she soon discovered that the boy in question was not very happy about being saved and that he spoke far too enthusiastically about all the new methods he found and often used to attempt to take his own life.

As soon as he had recovered and laid his gaze on her; he hadn't hesitated to introduce himself.

"I am Dazai Osamu. With whom do I have the immense pleasure of making acquaintance?"

"Marie..."

"Oh, are you the daughter of that wacky doctor who saved me?"

She had looked at him confused. Why had Mori revealed to him that she was his daughter? Wasn't that supposed to be a secret?

The boy had immediately moved on to the next question.

"Would you like to die with me? It's my dream to cross the threshold of the afterlife with a beautiful girl by my side."

Marie blushed, partly beguiled by his manner; partly incredulous at such a request.

Dazai took her hand between his, then gave her the first kiss on her hand of her life.

"How could I find someone equally beautiful to fulfil my dream?"

The young boy would probably have continued to flatter her if Mori hadn't intervened in the conversation.

"Does this seem like the way to thank the person who saved your life?"

Despite Mori's warnings Dazai had not stopped renewing his overtures to Μarie.

She was partly flattered. After all, he did nothing but shower her with compliments and, shortly before leaving the Mafia, had even gone so far as to make much more indecent proposals, which the girl had always refused.

Right from the start she had in fact learnt how the demon prodigy posed like that with any girl who came his way.

She also knew that several times he had used his body to get what he wanted.

She knew that he would continue to act in that reckless manner.

And she knew she would never become the only one for him.

And she was not interested in a fleeting one-night stand to satisfy the weak pleasures of the flesh.

She was aiming for something else.

She did not want herself so badly.

Dazai would never give her the kind of love she needed.

She already had someone who did not show her love, she did not need unnecessary additional suffering.

Verlaine's crystalline laughter tore her from the flow of her thoughts.

"On second thought, it's definitely impossible that you could be his girlfriend, you're too pretty to be with someone like him."

Marie's heart lost a beat and risked flaring up even more.

These outbursts from Verlaine threatened to put a strain on her weak psyche.

"That, however, does not detract from the fact that you seem to really know that being..."

"He is... a colleague of a friend of mine..."

"Oh. I'm so sorry about your friend. It must be unnerving to be condemned to deal with him every day."

Verlaine seemed to be momentarily lost in thought.

'I remember the day we found out he had left us. I uncorked a bottle of champagne for the occasion. I still remember the intoxicating taste it sent to my nostrils. Definitely among the best glasses I have ever had the pleasure of sipping within these walls."

He sighed.

"It feels so good since he left."

Marie kept wondering what Dazai had ever done to him to earn all that hatred.

Of one thing she was certain: she would never again dare utter that name in his presence.

"In any case, we've talked about this far too much. Let's get back to focusing on us."

Verlaine rose from the sofa and Marie followed suit, the less she could get him to alter the better off she would be.

"As a first step we need to improve your combat skills. Both in attack and defence. If you could have more confidence in your skills that would be a very good step forward."

He approached Marie lowering his head to her level, bringing his lips to her ear.

"Ready for today's training, ma chèri?"

Marie shuddered.

No, she was never ready.

In a week of training, she had never even accidentally been able to predict the surprise attacks the blond had in store for her.

Just as had happened during their first meeting.

Her body tensed involuntarily.

She knew that an attack was coming soon, but she was equally aware that she was not even vaguely close to being able to stop that monster.

The gap between them was still too great.

Verlaine, as usual, perceived all too clearly the state of tension her body was in.

It happened every time she crossed the threshold of his lair.

"Try not to be so tense." He hissed. "All you're doing is altering your senses and they can never help you.

They are your only allies, try not to make them your enemies as well. It is good that you are alert, but you are also too tense. Do not doubt your abilities."

"As if I could ever hope to stop you."

"Of course, you never will if you continue with this attitude." He said in a harsher tone.

By now he had learnt that raising his voice a little and being less gentle was a great way to cut Marie down to size; even if at the same time it agitated her even more.

Verlaine took advantage of that brief moment when Marie lowered her eyes to catch her off guard.

He approached her slowly with the intention of preparing her, but he already knew how it would end.

Marie jerked as she felt an arm block her waist and Verlaine's hand tighten around her neck, trapping her against his chest.

"You must learn not to be so easily distracted."

Already during the previous week, Marie had learnt that Verlaine didn't need weapons to stop her.

The man knew how to turn his body into a lethal weapon.

Even without the activation of his gravity manipulation ability.

The first attack he had made on her with that knife had been a mere foretaste of what awaited her over the next few days.

An integral part of the training were these surprise attacks by Verlaine that only helped to keep her in a state of constant vigilance and alertness, but the man was always unpredictable, and the girl never failed to be completely unprepared, but the blond had explained to her that he had his own reasons for acting that way.

Marie was there to be trained and transformed and that was exactly the goal he was pursuing.

And the surprise attacks had their own purpose: on the one hand they were designed to рrеparate Мarie to receive such an attack and on the other hand they served Verlaine to see if the girl was really making progress and was able to put his teachings into practice.

Clearly he didn't expect to see real progress in the short term, but time would surely repay their efforts.

Verlaine loosened his grip on her neck, stroking the scar he had left her last week.

It was one of the reasons that had prompted him to refrain from using weapons with her.

He had to be the one to teach her how to handle them before he used them against her again.

He let her go and Marie breathed again.

"Well, ma chèrie. Last week we focused only on hand-to-hand and defence. Which we will continue to do, of course, but I would say it is time to introduce the use of some weapons as well. I think you still remember the knife I presented myself with."

Marie nodded.

After all, she saw that scar every time she looked in the mirror, it was hard to forget it.

Verlaine accompanied her to one of her favourite rooms in the sur lair.

The armoury.

During his first years in the Mafia he had been too busy probing, understanding and discerning his thoughts to really care about the world around him, but once his mourning period was over; he had tried to make sense of the heart Arthur had left him and had decided to try to follow in the footsteps of that partner who had changed his life so much.

Perhaps he too could pass on Arthur's teachings and not make his sacrifice in vain.

First he had gone back to training himself and started to equip himself with weapons to use and then he had embarked on that new adventure.

That adventure that had helped make him one of the executives.

Then, if possible, he would try to find the weapon par excellence of the person he was training, but also to combine the student's possible skill with the weapons in order to make the attacks even more effective.

He loved playing this game with skill holders, but finding out which weapon people were best with was equally fascinating.

Marie walked intimidated into the room full of weapons.

"Do you know how to use them all?" She asked in a hushed voice.

Verlaine stroked the handle of a gun not far from him.

"Precisely all of them. And soon you'll learn to use as many as you can too."

He moved to an area where several cutting weapons were on display and picked up a knife very similar to the one he had drawn during their first meeting.

"I'd start with this one, shall we?"

He took it from the blade side and handed it to her.

Marie hesitantly took it in her hands. Verlaine smiled.

"Have you ever picked one up?"

"For cooking?"

"Oh. Then you might think you have to cook me with it."

Marie glowed.

"I-I don't think I'm capable of using it like that."

"At least try to defend yourself." He unleashed a fist in her direction.

The girl merely backed away as far as she could, but Verlaine continued to advance until his fist crashed against the wall.

"And now that you can no longer escape?"

Whispered the man softly.

Marie clumsily tried to use the weapon against him, but Verlaine stopped her before she could hurt herself.

"You should use it to hurt your opponent and not yourself, ma chèrie."

He whispered, taking the knife from her hands.

He moved away from her and placed the weapon in her hands again.

"Try to attack me again. This time I will stand still."

Marie took a deep breath and, somewhat awkwardly, tried to attack the executive.

She widened her eyes as she saw Verlaine manage to stop the knife blade with only the fingers of his hand.

"You'll see, soon you'll be able to do this too."

The girl continued to watch him enraptured by his readiness and elegance soon realising how she was superimposing Verlaine's movements on those of another person who mastered similar weapons with equal elegance.

Her father Mori Ougai.

How many times had she seen him juggle that art?

Mori used scalpels instead of knives, but in his hands they turned into equally deadly and dangerous weapons.

Several times she had seen him use only those against Fukuzawa's katana and never once had she seen him succumb.

He seemed to have an innate talent.

Her heart clenched.

She was his daughter.

Why couldn't she also use them just as he did?

She focused back on the figure of Verlaine.

He was there to help her with exactly that.

If her father was so good at fighting, then there was a chance that she too could aspire to match him.

If she had really put her mind to it, perhaps she could have hoped to reach the same level as him.

And if she had achieved them, perhaps he would have been proud of her.

"Will you teach me?"

He asked in a new tone.

"It is my job."

Moving behind her, Marie made to move, but he motioned for her to stay still.

"I'll show you how to use it."

The girl sensed his breath over her shoulder.

"You usually use your right hand, don't you?"

"Yes."

Then Verlaine slid his right arm over her right arm, helping her place it in the right position.

Gently he took her hand and placed the knife between her fingers.

Holding her wrist firmly he began to guide her movements.

"See... like this and like this... Try it yourself now..."

Marie noticed how much easier this already was for her.

She smiled.

Verlaine found himself involuntarily smiling back.

It was the first time he had seen the girl do that since they had started training together.

It was really infectious.

"Come on, let's try again in earnest."

Marie nodded with an enthusiasm the man had never seen her show before.

And that wasn't the only change he gave her.

For the first time in a fortnight, he had the pleasure of seeing her engage seriously.

With some very interesting results in his eyes.

Verlaine realised that, with the right training, he would really be able to turn her into a beautiful little gem.

They continued like this until Marie had mastered the knife better.

The executive was more than pleased with his progress and the minimal enthusiasm he showed that day, but preferred not to share his thoughts.

He was not in the habit of lavishing compliments on his students.

And he would make no exceptions with Marie.

He didn't make them for anyone.

Over the next few days he was pleased to note that Marie's had not been an isolated incident, but continued to be more active for the whole week and the knife girl's mastery improved markedly.

Perhaps Verlaine had succeeded in choosing the weapon with which to make his student shine.

Mori's foresight always astounded him.

He always seemed to be able to see where others' eyes could not reach.

And, in time, the girl would most likely turn out to be a very good buy.

That Friday when Marie arrived at the Mafia basement, she did not find Verlaine welcoming her on the sofa as he was wont to do.

She looked around with alert senses.

She imagined it was one of her umpteenth surprise attacks.

Would she ever be able to block one?

She doubted it, unless he pretended she had managed to tackle him.

She doubted such a scenario would ever occur there.

She walked over to the small table in front of the sofa, noticing how there seemed to be something resting on its surface.

She looked around again.

It was obvious that Verlaine would make his appearance at any moment and that this was a distraction left by the murderer to tempt her.

She would have been alert.

She would have sensed him coming.

She dropped her gaze to the notebook, surprised at what she found there.

They were handwritten words.

Or at least she thought so.

The handwriting was so beautiful it looked printed.

She caressed those words with her fingers.

Could it be Verlaine's handwriting?

It didn't surprise her too much.

The man seemed to be truly perfect.

She tried to read what was written on it.

She looked at the paper in confusion.

It was not Japanese.

Il pleure dans mom coeur

comme il pleut sur la ville;

Quelle est cette langueur

Qui pénètre mon coeur?

She reread those words, feeling a boulder settle somewhere inside her.

It was French.

Her breath caught in her throat.

She hated her flair for that language that could be as melodious as it was lethal.

Even the bloodiest words resonated like sweet melodies in that cursed idiom.

A cold blade rested on her throat while an equally cold arm wrapped itself around her waist.

"You are dead." Verlaine's melodious voice whispered in her ear.

Marie shivered as a warm tear ran down her face.

The executive cursed, quitting her suddenly.

The knife he was holding to her throat clattered to the ground as Verlaine desperately tried to stand on his own two legs and not be so succumbed to the pain once again.

Marie did not turn around.

She wiped away her tears.

She took deep breaths, trying to calm herself.

"I guess you didn't use it on purpose."

Verlaine whispered after long, interminable moments.

The girl turned towards him with her face still streaked with tears.

The man's heart clenched at seeing her like this and for a brief moment he was seized with the desire to wipe away her tears, but he came to his senses before making rash gestures.

"You will learn how to use it." He merely said to her before dismissing her.

Marie tried to empty her mind of all thoughts as she returned home, but she had no peace that night.

Yosano had returned with a series of rather insistent messages.

The girl smiled.

She was really lucky to have a friend like her.

Her only friend.

"See you tomorrow, Akiko."

04/05/2024