Unraveling the backstory behind the sickly figure, was nothing of what you expected, but here you stand, infront of his almost ghastly expression, as he speaks, no, rants in short phrases, after you attempted to stay present for him, his vacant coal-black eyes fixated on yours.

"I'm not a violent person." He began, turning to avert his gaze elsewhere, his hands slipping into the pockets of his attire, as past memories flooded his mind, the sparkle when young, dissipating. "I don't know why I kill." He continued, feeling no need to continue, as he lowered his head.

The extruciating pain filling his lungs, as well as the depressing fact he had to face, was that Dazai no longer, would never, express his approval for him, how some damned weretiger managed to fufill his past mentor's expectations, and he was left to bleed.