Two years had elapsed since Oda's passing

And yet Dazai remained secluded in his apartment, acutely aware of the neighbor next door. Despite rarely venturing out except to restock his supplies of frozen meals and canned crab, the sounds from the neighboring apartment were an everlasting reminder-he couldn’t escape the sounds from the adjacent apartment—the soft sizzle of cooking, the clinking of utensils.

From behind his bedroom wall, he eavesdropped on your soliloquy to your cat, whilst the pages of his tome danced within his weathered and delicate grasp, as though the prose were an intimate address meant solely for his ears, painting in his mind the minutiae of your being akin to a finely wrought portrait

Yet, he had not foreseen the counter of surprise when a cat wound its way around his legs upon his homecoming from the market to his apartment. Instantly presuming it to be yours, with trepidation, he pressed your doorbell.