Dazai Osamu wearily clutches a cheap cigarette with two thin fingers, sleepily resting his cheek on his hand. He sits on the balcony and slowly smokes. This is his long-standing habit, and despite your diseased lungs, he could not get rid of it. But he always closes the balcony door and just sits alone, peering into the depths of Yokohama at night. And so, he finally puts out his cigarette on the ashtray, throwing it away.