parasite [YANDERE!O.DAZAI/READER]

TWELVE: THE COFFEE.

"...like they might do in morgues. Try looking there."

Dazai crosses his arms as the staticky recording comes to an end, the recording device set on the table. Agency members are surrounding the table, their expressions unreadable and stoic. There was a silence that oppressed them, as if they were afraid to speak after the sensitive interaction between Dazai and the victim's mother.

Kunikida is the first to break the silence by pushing up his glasses, sighing.

"Do we know who–"

The door bursts open, crashing against its hinges with a loud slam. Atsushi barges in with a look of panic, white strands of hair bristling from the sudden action. He was out of breath, taking the flight of stairs over the elevators, and he leaned his hands against his knees. Dazai tilts his head at his apprentice's dishevelment.

"Is there a problem, Atsushi?"

He frantically nods. "There's–There's been another murder."

–

Atsushi sits in the backseat as Dazai sat into the passenger seat, while Kunikida drove to the morgue.

"How did you find out there was a murder?" Dazai asks, looking at Atsushi through the rear-view mirror.

"I saw police cordoning off a street and I just knew it," He says, clenching his hands on his knees. "I just knew it was another one."

"And it was in an alleyway?" Dazai clarifies. Atsushi nods. That makes Dazai think: it could possibly be you. He could certainly imagine it. He could imagine you, half-swathed in darkness and half in the dim lights of sunset, looking like total derangement because of your grotesque beauty, pinning a man to the wall and sucking the blood out of him until the light in his eyes left, his flailing futile...Then Dazai shakes his head. It must have been the April winds and constant blood-letting he's been facing recently that pushes him to think this way. He knows that you just dump the bodies where you had cornered them–not out of respect for your meal, but it was more so laziness that came from your predatory nature.

"The body was found in an alleyway, yeah," Atsushi confirms. "I told the police officers I'm with the Agency and will call for backup."

"I see," Dazai says, though he closes his eyes.

The car comes to a stop and Kunikida pulls the key out of the keyhole behind the steering wheel.

"We're here," He gruffly says, opening the door and slamming it shut behind him. Dazai and Atsushi follow suit, walking towards the crime scene and ducking under the bright yellow police tapes. There were murmurs buzzing like flies that hung in the air, alongside the clicks of walkie-talkies and the occasional curious scream from a child outside the pentacle of the police tape. Kunikida speaks with one of the policemen while Dazai walks towards the corpse.

"What's the status?" He asks, and one of the policemen turns to him in surprise before regaining his composure.

"Half-drained of blood," He simply says. "Simple cut to the neck must have done the trick."

Dazai hums, before looking at the body closely. There were no defensive wounds on him, other than the fact that there were vicious skidmarks on the side of the victim's arm, suggesting he had been dragged around. Perhaps on the sidewalk? It was certainly no rugburn, that was for sure.

"We're going to send it to the morgue for further evaluation," The policeman sighs. "But I don't have hope we're going to find the suspect even with this one."

"Why's that?" Dazai curiously asks.

"No leads," He says, sadly. "Absolutely nothing. It's like we're dealing with something that doesn't have any DNA prints, like one of those aliens with webbed fingers."