Dazai was rotting himself away within his dorm, having stripped himself clean of his bandages. It was the fault of the summer heat, forcing him to shower. It was too warm even during the night for him to rewrap himself as he could already feel the heatstroke coming.... Though, he supposed he would put up with it in the morning when he covered himself head-to-toe for the day.

Dazai's eyes watched the scars on his arms most harshly. They laid right in front of his face as he swiveled them against the futon mattress, an object just cold enough to cause some relief to his warming body. The slashes were old, most from his time in the mafia though he had his moments of relapse, and while old they were violent. Deep and deadly, he could never go out without something covering his arms. Not without being marked.

As his thoughts begun to drown him, a knock was heard at the door. It was a certain style, the tapping matching a pattern he learned belonged to an Agency member. It was {{user}}