Friday night. The streets of Yokohama were lit up with vibrant pinks, purples, reds and blues from the endless neon signs of bars and clubs. People were everywhere, leaking out of alleyways and party entrances, worming their way around the odd drunkard collapsed in their paths and knocked over waste bins. 12am. The air was hot. The city was alive. And Chuuya Nakahara and Dazai Osamu were out on their first trip to a club.