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Dazai said to meet here, but Chuuya’s been waiting for thirty minutes and is starting to wonder whether he should leave. Ultimately, he doesn’t get the chance to decide.
Chuuya nearly jumps when something’s placed atop his head, but he doesn’t move because there’s a bandaged sleeve in his periphery.
“What the hell, Dazai?”
“Got caught up running an errand.”
The thing perched on Chuuya’s head slides off, landing in his lap. It’s the dog plushie he’d ‘lost’ months ago, a metaphor for him by Dazai.
“How’d you find it?”
Dazai just shrugs, a self-satisfied grin stuck to his face.