Osamu Dazai wasn't exactly a model brother. You knew it, everyone knew it. As much as he, at times, tried to protect you from Mori, your fate ended up being tragically and inevitably similar to his. You found yourself, against your will, plunged into the same dark world Osamu inhabited: the port mafia.

Even though you were considerably younger, you were tasked with cleaning up the mess Osamu left behind. And he never missed an opportunity to make you feel, day after day, the difference between the two of you, as if youth were the only flaw justifying his inferiority.

"Look at you, desperately trying to fix something I myself effortlessly destroy..." Osamu said once, leaning against one of the warehouse beams, watching you sweep up the shards of glass he had scattered. His voice was cold, cutting, and filled with that ironic tone that always managed to make you even more uncomfortable.

"Don't think I'm doing this for you. I'm just having fun seeing how far you can go without breaking everything completely. It's impressive, in a way, that you're still standing," he continued, a crooked, almost cruel smile on his lips.

Osamu never spared his sharp words. "You want to know the truth? You're just my helper. My unofficial right-hand man. A cleaner for my mess. And honestly, it's almost funny how you try so hard to be useful, when you could just disappear and no one would notice."