𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐃 / bungō stray dogs x reader anthology

𝐬𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐞 𝐨𝐝𝐚 ✧ 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫

April 28th / I don't know what this is / 800 words

✧ ｡ﾟ✐.*ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* ✎｡:*ﾟ

In the midst of what would later become the dragon-head conflict, barely a week prior to Shibusawa's arrival, one Oda Sakunosuke found himself finally taking a well-deserved rest.

The air smelt of fresh rain, that of earlier that day, but to think that the dull grey sky, one which brought down a rain neither light nor enjoyable would melt into this view of a golden sunset, was not something Oda would have expected. It would make a good opening line for a story however, he'd half to remember that.

The boardwalk on which he stood was one which lined one side of a park, right before the ground gave way into the sea, only stopped by the rail which he found himself leaning against.

To say he was tried, was by far an understatement; no he was exhausted, not necessarily physically, but mentally. The smell of iron and gun power clouded his mind, there was no call for them here, but they were now so ingrained into his life, he doubted he'd ever be able to get the stench out of his clothes. And even taking a moment like this felt taxing, paranoia was a man's best friend and his worst enemy in the mafia after all. The fact that Oda kept looking over his shoulders was a reminder of that. He seemed unable to relax, to let his stance loosen and his mind become flexible once more.

How annoying.

"Beautiful view, isn't it?" A voice called, one that might have startled him as it seemed to come from nowhere, though the tone was soft and welcoming as though she was saying hello to an old friend, that he found himself rather than jumping or starting in surprise, merely blinking at the fact it took so long to register the presence of the speaker.

"I suppose so," Oda said in return, glancing to his right to face the speaker properly, a woman about his age, someone who should perhaps have been in college, though he had the strange feeling she wasn't.

"Yokohama is really a beautiful city," she continued, adjusting her glasses slightly as they had slipped down the bridge of her nose.

"Are you visiting then?" Oda asked, he did so more out of a mere politeness than out of curiosity.

"If I was I'd be calling St. Petersburg home then."

"Are you Russian then? Your Japanese is excellent, " Oda remarked.

"No, I am half Slavic though, and thank you, I've only been practicing my Japanese for about two years now, glad to know it's acceptable," she said with a smile, turning to face him leaning up against the rail, "If I may, might I ask the name of the kind stranger I met today?"

Oda blinked, it was such an odd way to ask for anything, but in that moment, her eyes flashed almost darkly, inspecting him - it reminded him of Dazai in a sense, that her gaze was like his, inspecting, dark, almost blank as they searched for something, anything - and it was gone as soon as it came.

" Sakunosuke Oda."

"It's a pleasure to meet you Oda."

"It's a pleasure to meet you to..." his voice trailed off, unsure how to refer to the stranger.

"There's no need to remember my name, we'll probably never meet again anyhow."

"Probably?"

"Life is rather unpredictable, no?" she said, looking away, adjusting her glasses once more as her eyes fixated on the sea, absentmindedly fiddling with a strand of her white locks, which fell neatly around her shoulders. How odd it was that Oda kept having to remind himself that she was real, for he felt as though if he blinked she would simply vanish.

"I suppose it is," he agreed, watching her almost wearily out of the corner of his eye.

"Well, I'll leave you to your sight seeing," She said after a time, "my apologies for interrupting you earlier." She said, turning away with a wave only to fall short a few moments, as if she was going to say something more, a fact of which had Oda waiting in association for what might say, only to continue on her way silently.

And he blinked, and she was gone, nothing indicating she had ever been there with except the fact that he would never quite forget the fact, that he couldn't quite shake that odd sadness that had seemed to hang about her as she paused, as though the words were on the tip of her tongue, and she would tell him something important, only to leave without once looking back.