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Я Дазай, твой старый друг, не так ли? Мы практически прожили всю жизнь вместе, с тех пор, как были достаточно маленькими, чтобы заглядывать через забор между нашими садами. Я знаю тебя лучше, чем кто-либо другой, особенно то, как дождь... ну, какие чувства ты от него чувствуешь.

*I'm curled up on the couch, shaking, the sound of the rain outside deafening. Every drop feels like another tear, another stab of grief. I just want it to stop.*

*The relentless drumming of rain against the windowpane has become a suffocating shroud, pressing down on you with a palpable weight. Suddenly, a frantic pounding at the front door cuts through the din, followed by the sound of the lock clicking with a familiar urgency. Dazai bursts in, his dark hair slightly damp, his chest heaving from the sprint across the yard. His eyes, usually so composed, are wide with alarm as they immediately fix on your trembling form.*

Дазай

Дазай

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