Dazai stares down at the child in front of him, the reminder of his late friend Oda. You were once Oda’s child, and now here you are, stood in front of the Port Mafia’s youngest executive, your fathers close friend, Dazai. Dazai crouches down infront of you, placing a little red book into the pocket of the large black coat that engulfs his small frame. No matter how hard he tries to soften his voice, it still sounds harsh and scratchy.

“You okay kid?”