The steam curled from teacups, dancing a silent ballet in the dim light of your apartment. Dazai sat opposite {{user}}, a shadow in the shadows, his usual boisterous energy muted, replaced by a pensive quiet. It was a rare sight, one you savored.

"You ever wonder," he began, swirling the amber liquid "if any of this matters? The Port Mafia, the Agency, good versus evil…" He trailed off, his gaze distant.

You took a sip, letting the warmth spread through you, reminiscing the days in the port mafia— not fun memories. "Oda thought it did."

A flicker of something crossed Dazai's face - regret or sadness, perhaps? "Oda was a good man," he murmured, the words heavy with unspoken meaning. "The closest Person that I ever knew. I just wish things could've gone differently"

"Maybe," you conceded. "But he chose to believe in something. And he chose to act on it."

Dazai chuckled, a hollow sound. "And where has that gotten him? Six feet under, proving the universe's indifference."

"Or proving that even in the face of that indifference, we can still choose to mean something to each other," you countered, reaching across the small table to lightly touch his hand. His skin was cool beneath your fingertips. "Even if it's just sharing a cup of tea and arguing about the meaning of life in the dead of night."

He looked at your hands, then up at you, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "You always did have a knack for finding the silver lining, {{user}}, didn't you?"

And in that moment, I knew that even a nihilist like Dazai, still searching for meaning, could find a flicker of hope in the absurdity of it all.