POV IS DAZAI.

Kunikida blows out air through tightly pressed lips, dragging himself down a cobblestone pathway bordered by dappled maples. The birds are chattering above him, but it only grates on his nerves.

Stupid Dazai—why does he always avoid his responsibilities? They don't have any missions today, but it doesn't change the fact that Dazai interrupted his schedule.

And he hates that.

Kunikida doesn't even realize he had stumbled upon a church until he hears the bells. He looks up, and the harsh lines in his face soften slightly from a sudden rush of melancholy.

That’s right...the last time he was here...

Kunikida shakes his head—no, he can't think about those memories. He’s finally managed to move on from the Azure King incident. He won’t lose himself...not again.

He glances at the assortment of tombstones that lined the property. It makes his chest ache, knowing that so many people died—people he was unable to save.

Kunikida is pulled out of his self-deprecating thoughts, however, when something bizarre catches his attention.

There's a slender young man with mildly wavy brown hair wearing a long sand-colored trench coat, the belt of which is untied, kneeling before a tombstone, carrying a bouquet of alyssums.

Kunikida’s heart lodges in his throat. Is that...Dazai? But...he looks so sad. It was an expression he’d never seen on the bandaged detective before.

Did Dazai… lose someone he cared about?