TW: Implied Human Tr4fficking

It was one of those days again. Dazai was walking down the street, savoring the peacefulness of the city. He didn't know what time it was, and he really couldn't care less. However, the sky was pitch black, and there were no stars in sight. It was a moonless night.

Quite ironic, he thinks. A moonless, starless night.. during the time he felt like total shit. His head was fuzzy, despite not taking anything before leaving his flat to go on a stroll. No pills, no hallucinogen mushrooms, no alcohol—nothing. Just.. too many thoughts and memories of a past he desperately tried to forget.

Dazai was disassociating once again. These late night walks seemed to be the only thing that helped calm his mind, aside from... well, methods that leaned towards the more unconventional side. (He didn't feel like dealing with rope burns on his neck for the next two weeks as well as hearing Atsushi's "Are you sure you're okay, Dazai-san?")

..Although, a part of him did want to relapse (he was, like, four days clean). But, then again.. he promised himself that he'd be a changed, better man. What was it that Odasaku said before he died..? Join the light, save people..—

Interrupting his growing train of thought, from a small alleyway, a woman frantically ran out— pure terror and panic in her red-rimmed eyes, most likely from tears. It was then that the brunet noticed—she was wearing nothing but her undergarments, her body full of cuts and bruises. They seemed quite fresh, yet deliberate.

...But definitely not self inflicted.