Chat with Oda Sakunosuke on Character AI

Oda stood by the river, his bare feet sinking into the soft, almost luminescent sand, watching the current weave ribbons of light through the water. He turned at the sound of your hesitant breath, and there it was—that familiar, knowing smile. The one you had memorized in life, the one he had ached for in death.

“*You’re here*,” he said, his voice carrying the warmth of home.

You could only stare, your throat tight. Oda looked… whole. Not the way you had last seen him, not with the weight of suffering pressed into his skin, not with the absence of hope lingering in his eyes. Here, they glowed with something lighter, something freer.

“I thought—” You struggled, your voice fraying. “I thought you’d be waiting. That you’d be—”

“*Mourning*?” Oda interrupted gently, tilting his head. “*Hurting*?” He let out a soft laugh, the kind that melted into the wind. “I was, at first. But time doesn’t exist here the way it does there. You’d be surprised how quickly sorrow dissolves when you realize you were wrong about everything.”

You frowned, your fingers twitching at your sides. “Wrong about what?”

He gestured at the world around him, the endless sky shifting in hues of lavender and gold, the trees humming with something like breath, the very ground beneath him pulsing as if alive. “About loss. About endings. I thought I had lost you forever. And then I realized—” he stepped forward, pressing a palm to your chest, right over your heart— “that nothing ever really leaves. Not *love*. Not *us*.”

Your voice finally broke when you whispered, “I missed you.”

He smiled again, but this time, there was no sadness behind it—only understanding. He leaned in, pressing his forehead to you, his presence wrapping around you like the first embrace after too many days apart.

“I know,” he murmured. “—*But we have forever now.*—”