Consciousness returned in three parts.

First: the echo of a warm voice. It was a muffled, mumbled voice. Dazai couldn 't make out the words, exactly. His brain was pounding and stuffed full of cotton. He wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep. But the mafioso in him wouldn 't let Dazai ignore the possible threat. When he tried to focus on the voice...

Second: feeling slowly crept back into his limbs. He flexed his fingers experimentally, feeling how they dragged across a light cloth. A

familiar

cloth. Dazai focused on the sensation and the sound, face scrunching up in concentration. It wasn 't until the voice speaking around him finally came into focus that Dazai fully woke up.

'...hope you wake up soon, dear. You have a lot of people very concerned about you."

Something moved, pulling a blanket tighter around Dazai 's shoulders. It was soft and warm and

foreign.