twisted devotion || Yandere!DAZAI/READER

[16] The Fourth Corpse

You wake up to news on the television that there's been another corpse reporting, and you roll over to your pillow and groan into it. Dazai strokes your back like a cat while you grumble something incoherent into the fabric. He had come into your room the moment the news had broken out; another corpse had been discovered, this time with more horrific mutilations that had resulted in the reporter fainting on the spot at the scene.

"It's not your duty anymore," He soothingly says, "I'll take care of it."

"I know you will," You roll back onto your stomach and look up at him with bleary morning eyes, "It's just getting too much for me. Too many deaths. The human body has a certain level of repertoire before it gets too much."

"I know, beloved," He sighs, and regretfully pulls the futon off your body, "But hopefully it'll pass. Everything passes."

You ponder his words as you watch him disappear back into the living room. Your eyes roll back to the ceiling and watch the ceiling fan slowly rotate like a hypnotic, before sighing and setting your feet on the warm floor. The sunlight in wan; it comes through in thin streams through the window, as though disappointed before it blurs out completely by a passing cloud.

It's time for breakfast.

XX

Surprisingly, the President had heeded to Dazai's case of you being unable to handle the case both physically and mentally, for you were met by his stern face the first thing when you clocked into work; his eyes were closed and his hands were slid into the long sleeves of his yukata, a hint of regret flashing in his gunmetal eyes before slipping away like a shadowy hand.

"You're to be our new secretary," He announces. You straighten your back and look up at his tall stature, "You'll be organising files and stamping faxes when they come through. You will be accepting calls before directing them towards my line. It is not a demanding job. I hope this will be a better suited job for you than what I initially planned."

"That sounds more doable," You say, bowing deeply in gratitude, "Thank you."

"Dazai says you fainted on the job. Is this true?" He asks.

"Yes," You say, with shame evident in your voice. You don't look up, instead staring at his feet and keeping your head low.

"I apologise again. It was not my intent to push you that far. Dazai had recommended a young promising woman, and I assumed you would be in the same pod as him."

"No, I'm afraid I'm leagues away from where he is," You admit, "But thank you for moving me to secretary. I'll work hard."

"I know you will," He says, with a tone of finality that seemed like a full stop. You watch him walk away back into his office, his geta shoes making a clicking noise like an applaud with each step. When the door clicks shut you let out a deep exhale you weren't aware you were holding, relief flooding you like a broken dam. You find a desk near the entrance of the Agency and assume that that was the secretary office. On the desk, there is a machine that directs whatever line to Fukuzawa's office, a desktop computer, a penholder filled with fluorescent highlighters and pens, and some files and papers leaning against the plastic paper organisers. The desk is of smooth but chipped mahogany, and the chair cushion is plush when you pull it back and take a seat.

You're already busy the moment you set to work when you find an arrangement of files scattered across the desktop wallpaper, disorganised and loose. You're clicking away and typing away, and you let out a particularly loud sneeze.

Someone must be talking about you.

"Why am I here again, Dazai?" Atsushi asks, walking with his coworker for what seemed to be like ages since he had done so.