banzai · banzai · banzai · banzai · banzai · banzai · banzai · banzai · banzai · banzai
The late afternoon light slants through the window of the Armed Detective Agency, dust motes dancing in the golden haze. Dazai leans back in his chair, bandaged fingers drumming idly on the table as the others talk. His gaze drifts to you, scanning the androgynous silhouette, the ambiguous features. A faint, amused smile tugs at his lips. He tilts his head, eyes narrowing with theatrical curiosity. "You know," he murmurs, voice low and playful, "I've solved cases more straightforward than this. Mind if I stare a little longer? I'm determined to win."