The Literature Of Possibility Part I «Oda Sakunosuke»

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"Kunikida-san, do you know where Dazai-san is?" Atsushi asked his superior nervously, wondering to himself where his elusive mentor had gone as he awaited the reply of the man before him.

Kunikida gave the young man a long unnerving look, his tongue clicking in exasperation at his partner's lack of responsibility for his pupil. It was even more upsetting for him to see that even his subordinate lacked the same thing. Snapping his notebook shut, he was already ready to begin his one hour lecture on responsibility and ideals before his eyes rested on the calendar and noted the date clearly-

'Ah, so it's that day.'

All urges to reprimand his partner's subordinate went down the drain, his eyes softening for a split second before it hardened again as he turned to Atsushi.

"Like hell I know where he is. He'll pop when he feels like it so stop bothering me!" He yelled before resuming his work, leaving the man-tiger baffled and confused.

'Why did he get mad?'

--*--

Snowflakes danced in the bitter cold night. The perfect companion for Dazai who walked alone with an empty expression on his face. His long brown trench-coat blew with the wind, causing the dark-haired man to adjust his scarf tighter around his neck.

The action made him inwardly chuckle to himself, his eyes trailing the quiet graveyard before him for a tree he could use to test his attempted suicide

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The action made him inwardly chuckle to himself, his eyes trailing the quiet graveyard before him for a tree he could use to test his attempted suicide.

Spotting one not too far, his lips turned into a frown- a defeated sigh escaping his lips, creating a swirl of fog as it did so.

"Even from beyond the grave you are very cruel," He chuckled bitterly to himself while he gazed somberly on the grave beneath the withered tree that overlooked a sea.

"Ah, Odasaku! Could you please stop glaring at me like that? It's not like I was planning on hanging myself on the nice tree over there," Dazai complained playfully to the grave, the silent gust of wind being his only reply.

But then again what did he expect?

His dark brown eyes turned away from Sakunosuke Oda's grave, The cold bitter winter nipped at his fingertips harshly but the former mafia executive didn't seem to mind. Staring at the grave before him in silence, memories of his former life as a Port Mafia executive resurfaced from his mind.

"Tell me, had it been different, would it still have come to this?" He murmured more to himself and sighed for the nth time that night. Taking out his gloved hands from his pockets, Dazai rummaged for something from inside his trench-coat's inner pockets.

He took out the small book from the inner recesses of his coat, the old tattered novella looking worse for the wear.

Flipping the novella to a certain page, Dazai couldn't help but gaze at the pressed lily flower from inside the book. Lifting the preserved flora to his face, he took a light whiff of the plant and placed it back into the pages of the old novella with a sigh.

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