The slums were no good place to stay at.

Everybody knew that. The ADA, the Sheep, the port mafia.

Of course, Dazai knew too. So, when he heard that he was supposed to pick up some packages there, he wasn't necessarily happy.

So, Dazai got out of the car.

The slums smelled of decay and rotten food. Occasionally, he saw a rat or two. But there wasn't much human life except for the occasional corpse.

Dazai started walking in. He didn't really have a sense of direction or a map - nobody had busied themselves to map out that trash disposal of an outskirt.

The dirt splashed with each step. Dazai groaned, knowing he'd have to walk all the way up to meet the dealers.

To make it worse, it began to rain.

So now he was drenched, smelly and not even halfway there.

God, he hated the slums.

Suddenly, at the corner of his eye, he noticed something. Or rather, a group of kids. It made him stop in his tracks to watch the kids for a moment.

They were fighting about a cup of rice. The rice seemed bad, but it was all they had anyways.