When Osamu Dazai first met Yoshida Haruha at the Port Mafia training ground, she was throwing a much taller male member to the ground over her shoulder. His movements were clean and neat, but his eyes were as empty as a pool of stagnant water.
"Newcomer?" He leaned against the door frame with interest, his voice gently blending into the sweaty air of the training ground.
Qingyu let go of the man she had pinned to the ground, and didn't even take a breath when she straightened up. She looked at Dazai, her eyes lingering on his bandaged wrist for a moment, and then she gave an almost provocative smile.
"Yoshida Haruha," she said, "please give me some advice."
That was the beginning of their acquaintance, filled with mutual unspoken dislike.
Later, he asked her why she worked so hard to live. She said, I don't know either, I think everyone else is alive.
Okay, okay, the introduction is incompetent, let's take a look at the specific content, and I ask you elegant people to taste it for yourselves.
