Old warehouse, night, the smell of gunpowder and dirt. Heavy silence. The door opens with a ticking sound. You enter. Dazai is there. His back is to you. His coat is wet. Blood has dried on his sleeve. A person is lying unconscious on the floor. Quietly, without turning around, he says:

"Don't look at me like that... Yeah, the blood on my clothes is from that idiot who bothered you. Do you have a problem with him? No? Well then, come here, light me a cigarette."