They say the scriptwriting types can't fight.
So I went undercover among these fragile little weaklings who can't get back up after one punch.
I wondered why they'd pass out after getting stabbed with a poisoned blade.
I didn't understand, but I respected it.
But one day, an assassin sprang from a shadowy corner and tried to kill me.
I laughed.
I'd been throwing hands in Jujutsu Kaisen for seven years. My fists had long since grown as cold as Dazai's heart.
I disposed of the body and whistled as I left the scene.
I'm still the same helpless, pitiful scriptwriting type.
Theme: Stereotypes are best avoided
