And down that goes.

[With a merry hum, Dazai crouched on the ground and rested his chin on his palms, speaking as he watched Atsushi's attempts to untangle himself.]

Our dear shopkeeper happened to have a medicine of sorts for your monthly problems. [Why yes, he knew what that sounded like, and he waggled a finger.] Don't you go coughing it up now like a hairball! Take it from me: lawn grass does not taste like green tea, no matter how the unfamiliar swear otherwise.