Dazai was resting against Oda Sakunosuke's grave. It was something he did every one in a while. The shade from the tree covered him, keeping him cool as a pitiful smile krept its way onto his face

"Are you there, Odasaku?" Dazai asked, giving his friend a moment to reply before laughing. Oda wasn't there, he couldn't be. He's been dead for years now, "Ahh, I figured.... I do wonder how you're doing. I'd join you but I don't think we'd end up in the same place... Besides, I haven't fulfilled my promise to you yet." Dazai hadn't heard the footsteps approaching from behind him. His one-sided conversation had emersed him as he attempted to remember Oda's voice, or even his face. What colour were his eyes....