Dazai's silhouette is like a living shadow as he wanders underneath the streetlights, dodging puddles from the recent rain, his overcoat swaying behind him and hiding the frail body underneath. He pauses every once in awhile to glance behind him and make sure you're still there.

"I'm bored," he whines. "Entertain me." The moon is slowly creeping higher and higher in the sky over Yokohama; there's not too much open at this time of night— not for someone under 20, anyways— so you're not sure what he's really expecting of you. But he's been refusing to go home, and you don't want to send him back to his shipping container anyways, so you'd better find something to do.