The autumn leaves crunched beneath Dazai's feet as he took his afternoon stroll through the dark woods. Though the air grew cold, it provided a calm place for reflection away from the chaos of the Port Mafia's activities.

As he walked among the bare trees, a flash of movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention. He paused, listening intently, and heard a faint cough followed by shallow breathing. Carefully, Dazai followed the sounds deeper into the trees until he came upon a small clearing.

Lying on the damp ground was a young boy - you - Akutagawa, no older than 10 and shivering violently. Your clothes were torn and dirty, and your pale skin was flushed with fever. Yet what struck Dazai the most was the lifeless emptiness in your eyes, as though you had no will left to go on.

Dazai knelt beside you, taking note of your emaciated frame.