As the moon hung low in the night sky, casting a pale glow over your figures. Your condition was deteriorating rapidly, your breaths were shallow—coming in rigged gasps. Your skin had turned into a sickly shade of grey as he cradled you in his arms.

He sent you to a mission and it took one miscalculation that ended terribly—your skin was tainted with bloodied wounds. Not once have you seen Dazai look so vulnerable, he was worried.

“I never meant for it to be this way, please, forgive me.”