“O~da~sa~kuuuuuuuuuuuu.” Dazai calls his name in a way that mimics playful whining, heightened by sing-song. “You can’t stop there. Keep it up. Compliment me until I can’t take it anymore! Until I’m a flustered, breathless mess who finally drops dead right here in this bar. Wouldn’t that be quaint? Since I do like this place so much. I only feel bad for bartender-san. What a pain I’d be, to clean up.”
After taking a swish of his drink, he sets his glass down, only to cradle his chin into the empty palms of both of his hands. He gives Odasaku a curious look, paired with a contemplative hum —- a wicked smile ( although he doesn’t plan to get up to anything particularly dastardly; evil merely expects evil, knows how to emulate it. ) Dazai thinks of the Lupin bar as a magical space. A sacred one, too. While drinking in the bar, side by side, he, Odasaku and Ango weren’t quite members or this or that, responsible for that or this. They were just friends —- friends spending time together, cracking jokes, getting up to hijinks, almost as if they were living ordinary lives. The bar was the one place in the entire world Dazai felt comfortable. Where he could let down his iron walls briefly. Crack those doors open just a smidge to let someone like Odasaku in. Despite their difference in rank, Dazai likes to think that they have a lot in common ( and not in common ), which makes their every encounter an opportunity to learn something new about each other, or perhaps, the world around them.
“Mmm, well. It depends on the catch. How devastating it is. I like you so much Odsaku, I’d might be willing to look past such a fatal flaw and continue our esteemed friendship. I can be generous, that way. But I’m happy to hear that you’ll still carry on as you are. It’s one of few things in this city worth anything in the slightest. But say —- ”
His continued curiousity does not go missed. “If I were to drop dead. In this bar or at any other given point in time, would you cry?”
“My motto is still the same,” He casually reminded him. His glass was returned to its spot on the bar countertop. From out of the corner of his left eye, Oda watched Dazai settle his chin across an open palm. The pale bandages that encircled his wrists and arms were observed with the “I won’t kill no matter what. You can join the tens of thousands of others who have complained about my behavior.”
It was an over-exaggeration but it got the point across. The Port Mafia’s frustrations with his principles were always looming over his head. There were only a few things Oda outspokenly vented about. That matter, in particular, was something that often came up between them. In comparison to everyone else, Dazai’s interest in it was beyond Oda’s comprehension. Relieving, but also mysterious in its presence due to Dazai’s own contrasting principles.
I like you so much Odasaku… Our esteemed friendship…One of few things in this city worth anything in the slightest…
“Ah,” he spoke, without thinking. Evidence of surprise made way to Oda’s features as he took in Dazai’s genuine words. A hint of a smile almost pulled at the corners of the usually jaded man’s lips. For half a second, the corners of his mouth twitched at the feeling. He tilted his head forward and rubbed the back of his neck. His thoughtful eyes shifted between his glass and the smile on Dazai’s face. Leave it to Dazai to render him speechless. If those words came from anyone else, Oda would have assumed it was all just sweet talk to get something out of him. Thankfully, this was much more simple. Dazai wanted to say that. At that moment, he spoke complimentary words out of an interest in caring for him. He almost didn’t know how to respond. It seemed that flattery and high praise touched him much more than any violence possibly could. A gun pointed directly at Oda’s head never ignited such a reaction.
Collecting his bearings by settling against the bar, Oda rested his elbows back down on its smooth surface. “I get it,” he tried again, silently hoping that Dazai missed the ineloquence he let slip a few seconds ago. Obviously, he didn’t. Dazai noticed everything… And yet, Oda still internally wished for it out of a silly concern of embarrassing himself. “If you continue on like that, I might become the mess here,” he admitted, funnily enough in that almost monotone voice of his.
“For you to be open to looking past a fatal flaw, too…” Those words fell from Oda’s dry lips in a thoughtful mumble. He more so said it to himself in his current state of awe, rather than Dazai who patiently waited for an answer on a whole other matter. For someone who donned the ability known as flawless, Oda found Dazai’s willingness to look past something that significant for the sake of their bond to be one of the most heart-warming things he has ever heard. “It’s not something I could ask of you. That’s almost too generous. If your enemies become jealous of that generosity, I’ll let you know.” If all of them weren’t swallowing Dazai’s bullets before then, of course.
Following all of those gentle musings exchanged between them, the question that Dazai left in Oda’s lap was given an immediate answer. Images of a poor grave, a pathetic excuse of a service (all because Oda couldn’t afford a single thing in the first place, what with all his debts), nights and days spent inside a bar alone, and walks throughout a city with only memories of Dazai’s precious voice chirping close behind to offer a semblance of comfort flittered past his mind’s eye like damaged pages of a poorly written tragedy. A book he never wanted to touch but continuously prepared himself to read for the rest of his mortal existence. In the end, even with the hardened heart of a former hitman, Oda would be left with a hole inside his chest.
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