Dazai takes a few steps, slams his chest into the corner of the table and falls with a thud. Belated bewilderment at the sudden transition to a horizontal position is written on his face. He stands up slowly, trying not to lean too much on his freshly stitched arms, and sits down on a chair in the corner of the kitchen. Taking a bundle of three threads from the table, he begins to carefully weave a braid from the threads, training the dexterity of his fingers.