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The sun shone bright on the river, ripples glimmering with sparkles as fish played tag in the light. Yokohama was bustling in the shining beauty of the day, people blending together with ease.
A cool breeze danced through the gaps in the pleasantly warmed buildings, whistling across the surface of the blinding water.
By the riverbed, Dazai stood, contemplating jumping in to the cool liquid. The depression that plagued him had gotten better in the past two years, since he had come to the side of light, but this day, it was always was hard. Dazai gazed down at the shimmering white, reminded of his mentee’s words.
“Actually… I’d prefer it if you didn’t go at all!”
The brunet smiled mournfully.
At twenty-two years old, he stood tall, one metre, eighty one centimetres, taller than most he knew. Oak coloured wavy hair fell into brown eyes that caught the sun’s red, appearing as dried blood on shattered glass.
Most who knew him labelled him as a mischief maker, courtesy of the sly smirk that often adorned his facial features.
The cool, late afternoon wind ruffled his tan trench coat, worn over black formal wear. Bandages encircled the man’s arms and neck, something of a safety blanket, saving him from prying eyes. The only sign of accessorising he showed was his aquamarine bolo tie.
Sighing, Dazai pulled out a faded black and white photo. Three men sat side by side, each with cups in front of them. Dazai remembered the day well. He had insisted on a hunch.
He remembered the feeling of this being the last time all too clearly. The heaviness in his chest, the underlying certainty. One of them would soon be dead, and he knew it.
The events following only cemented it.
“Anything I never want to lose is always lost, this is how it’s always been for me. Anything worth wanting is lost the moment I obtain it, and nothing is worth the cost of prolonging this life… this suffering.”
He still remembered the very moment of the devastating gunshot.
“ODASAKU!” Dazai had yelled, running to his friend. Death was all too common, Dazai himself had taken over one hundred lives, but Odasaku had changed that for him.
“If both sides are the same to you, then be a good man,” Odasaku had changed Dazai’s life in the last moments of his own.
Smiling softly, Dazai took in his surroundings again. The sun shone bright upon the river, ripples glimmering with sparkles as fish played tag in the light.
And Dazai Osamu was alone.