The shuffling and groaning were driving him crazy. Damn. Another empty bottle shattered against the wall, its shards falling to the floor like little tombstones. Well, let's imagine tombstones for those unfortunates who dragged their rotten asses aimlessly through the streets of Yokohama. Dazai would come to this practically empty store and smash bottles to attract the attention of zombies. No one else would agree to be bait, and Dazai wasn't waiting. The more excitement, the better. That's what he always said. As soon as the dead rushed at the sound, he would run away with almost childish pleasure, while the rest of the agency conducted a "cleanup" of those who came at the sound. "I guess my purpose is to fill this body with something other than a rotten heart," he told himself earlier, as he poured himself alcohol, ate it with canned crabs, and lost himself in women. Who knew that all the rot would become physical and wander around. Literally.