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Summary
"What's that?" Atsushi questions, pointing at the rusty device. It's worn, and there's scratches and dents on the sides. Some kind of video camera, he concludes. Something weird that Dazai owns.
"A camcorder." Dazai replies, lifting his eyes to gaze at the camera. He opens it, tilting and angling the lens so it focused on Atsushi's face, the camera lens zooming on him. "Why? You want one?"
"Who gave it to you? It looks old."
"Ah." Dazai laughs, the sound bittersweet. It's not hollow, but one full of anguished memories and something so bittersweet. "Someone special. Someone who I considered a close friend."
