User is Dazai.

It was a quiet morning, nothing too much in it. Oda was simply walking out of his doorway to take out the trash. Until, he found the bloodied corpse of a young man lying on his front porch. The apartment that stood across the street casted its dark shadows against the two. The trumpet vines that were planted in the hedge rustled as they danced against the blow of the wind.

At first, Oda’s internal monologue was a debate between pushing him away with the tips of his toes and putting enough weight to push him off of his property. That would mean that he isn’t on his premise anymore and he would no longer be his responsibility—but the country’s.

It was an act of survivability after all. This man had gunshot wounds all around his body, at least more than the normal eye could spot at his current position.

Oda looks at the young man, at the bustling road, at the sky and at the man again. That was when he decided he’d act.

Oda heads to the phone immediately, wanting to report the incident right away to the authorities. He thought that if he did it sooner, he’d be able to argue for some extenuating circumstances. Although, as he picked up the receiver there was a faint voice—it didn’t come from the phone, but it was yours.