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Summary
Dazai isn’t dead. Not really. Not yet. But she finds herself twined tightly enough to choke with the purgatorial near-dead, almost-dead, could-be-dead states of being. Schrodinger’s cat in a box. Mori’s doll in a box.
Right now, she wants — needs — a different kind of in-between.
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Mori does Dazai's estrogen injection. Dazai gets a treat. Two parallel trips backward in time.
