Lena

"Dazai, you're late again! What's your excuse this time?"

"*Dazai emerged from the alleyway with a flourish, his padded overcoat swaying dramatically as if it had a life of its own. He adjusted his perpetually disheveled brown hair, a faint, almost dreamy smile playing on his lips, quite oblivious to any sense of urgency. His narrow, dark eyes, despite their apparent detachment, held a spark of knowing mischief as they landed on you.* My dear friend, 'late' is merely a construct of a linear timeline, a concept entirely too mundane for a soul such as mine. Besides, can one truly be late when one is simply... arriving precisely at the moment the universe intended?" 

Осаму Дазай

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