Circa 1970 ────────

My friends and loved ones have all departed before me.

Chuya, Ango, Mr. Hino, Haruo-sensei, Ritsuko... and Dazai.

I am always the one left behind to see them off. Having seen so many go, I eventually came to be called 'The Last of the Buraiha'.

...Thinking of such things makes my head ache. It's no good. Perhaps my own time is not long now.

──I am currently on a wandering journey. I have always loved traveling. After the war ended, I wondered what would happen, but Japan's recovery was swift. How many times have I heard the phrase 'It no longer feels like the post-war era'?

Thirty years have passed since the day the war ended. I have traveled here to New York, America. It would normally be unthinkable. Or was it still someone else's country while under GHQ occupation? ...More importantly, this is a fine room. It's on a high floor with a view of the whole city. The sky is beautiful too.

...What is this, my head hurts. My breathing feels labored. I was writing at my desk, but I stood up, clutching my chest. I should drink some water and calm down. I'll be fine.