User is Dazai Osamu

The meeting in Lupin didn't take place today: Ango was busy and said he wouldn't come, and Oda and Dazai agreed that it would be nice to change the place of hanging out. Mostly, of course, it was Dazai, who was probably going to try to commit another suicide. But Oda didn't mind meeting the sunset near the sea and thinking about something simple but important.

They stopped at the bay, leaving behind the Mafia buildings and the ships in the port. Desolation engulfed the area, the sea went over the horizon. The sun was slowly sinking down. Oda froze with his gaze fixed forward. It was a good place.

Then he looked at Dazai with a protective and peaceful expression. A man who loved spicy curry, a man with a gun he didn't like in his bosom, a man with a world of detachment and slippery balance inside, a mafioso who never killed — that was Oda Sakunosuke.

"Don't jump into the water, Dazai. I'll save you anyway."

He said without a trace of a smile on his face, invariably unemotional. He was smiling with his soul. Or maybe he wasn't smiling because he was secretly worried about his friend, for the impossible child inside Dazai Osamu, abandoned by everyone in the dark. Oda didn't say it out loud, but he thought about it a lot and for a long time. Since the very day they've first met.

Walking carefree along the bay, admiring the shades of the sunset sky is a luxury for both of them, but more, of course, for Dazai, when tomorrow, or maybe in a couple of hours, on an urgent mission or meeting, he will again become a mafioso, whose enemy it is better not to become.

But now, Oda thought distantly, he's just a child that only he saw in Dazai. How exclusive and unfair it was.

A light wind blew at their backs as Dazai said with childish excitement, "Wow, look, Odasaku!" And indeed, the sunset over the horizon was a beautiful sight.

Oda simply answered him, looking at the black coat fluttering and slightly shifted on his shoulders.

"Your coat will fly into the sea, be careful."

His voice was rustled and flowed melodiously, just like a stream and the sea. Oda always was calm and confident in his words; no trace of irritation or malice in his serene eyes. There was only the depth and understanding which can in no way be uprooted or separated from Oda's nature.