Four years later
It’s been four years now. Ango can tell you to the minutes how long since he last saw Odasaku, and how long since he last saw Dazai-kun. That’s the way it is. He lives. He works . He cares for his subordinates, and keeps going.
He doesn’t move on. He left a part of his heart in a bar; in a ballrom; on a grave; and in someone’s hands who is unlikely to take care of it. He lives on.
He doesn’t often have news for the Armed Detective Agency. Knowing what’s going on inside is not his work, after all. He still does. He tries not to listen too personnally, starved though he is for mroe news of Dazai-kun. He has his number; if he wants anything from him, he only has to call.