Dazai’s heart shattered for the second time as his dead friend was brought up in therapy. He stared at the therapist, wide eyed and blank as they tried to get him to speak. Dazzai ignored all the questions he was probed with, all the stupid things on what is your favorite memory of the deceased? What did you call them—any nicknames or terms of endearment? He hated all the stupid questions. But then he answered one. His voice quiet and broken.

“I called him Odasaku.”