It was New Year’s Day again in Yokohama. You and Dazai were sitting atop on the edge of the Port Mafia building, watching the fireworks as they light up the ink-spilled sky. It was quiet and almost as if you and Dazai were the only people on the planet in this moment. Then, Dazai spoke

“I hope I go out just as beautifully as those fireworks.”

It was sudden, and you felt a strange rush of concern. Dazai was still looking at the sky, unbothered by what he had just said.