parasite [YANDERE!O.DAZAI/READER]

SIXTEEN: THE FANG.

Dazai Osamu is no stupid man.

Nor is Sakata Steven.

Both are very intelligent, capable men, and that is their downfall. They know too much. Thus, they can't turn away from the impossible, they can't ignore what shouldn't be allowed because it challenges them. It offers spice in their otherwise bland, boring life.

For them, it was you. You who fucked with their oblivion, you who lived–gave them memories to cherish and treasure. You who made their agony lovable, you whose lore was respectable. The perfect organism, for mankind, for those who are lost in the calm.

"The thing is, Sakata, she's real. She's very real," Dazai says, with a fake smile as Sakata reciprocates it. "I've met (first name), you see."

"Oh?" Something twinkles in the man's eyes. Curiosity or jealousy, or perhaps a fleeting mix of both. "What is she like?"

"You will have to meet her yourself," Dazai says. "She is ineffable. She escapes descriptions, and rightfully so. I've always thought that describing mutilates the subject."

"Hm," Sakata pinches his chin in wonder. "Curious. After all, my ancestors were the ones to collect this..."

He goes to the back of his library, where a drawer was, and pulls out a sharp fang hanging off a string. Sakata then comes back. Dazai's eyes widened at the sight.

"Is that–"

"(Mother's name)'s fang? Yes," Sakata puts it on his palm and stares at it almost lovingly, as if the teeth had once penetrated his skin. "My ancestors pulled it off of her charred body."

"You must be very intrigued by (first name), then," Dazai says. "Desperate to meet her."

"Perhaps. But I fear she will be hungry for my blood if she ever sees me," Sakata chuckles.

The three are escorted out of the house once Kunikida and Ranpo are finished investigating, and the moment Ranpo enters the car, he immediately says,

"He's the copy-cat killer."

"What evidence do we have to back that up?" Kunikida says, turning around to face his colleague.

"The card paper on his desk was the same as that of the letter found in (First name)'s desk asking her to let him join her," Dazai says. Ranpo hums, before he also adds in his own two cents.

"And did you smell the air? It smelt of bleach. Bleach always means something's being snuffed out. It also doesn't help the fact that he used to be a morgue worker before switching paths into that of a pedagogic one."

"Well, we need a warrant for his arrest," Kunikida says.

"No. Not yet," The brunette says.

"Why not?"

"Because we need solid evidence that he's the copy-cat. And that means asking (first name) to stop, just to see if he'll follow up with some sort of letter. Then we can use that letter as concrete evidence."

"Besides," Ranpo says with a smirk. "I'd like to see this vampire for myself. Just to satiate my curiosity."

–

The three drive to your chateau, with Dazai drumming his fingers on his knee. The forest comes into view and the dirt road comes to a stop just before the great maw of the forest. There was a collective silence between the three men, a pregnant silence, filled with compressed excitement and despair at the thought of meeting the deadly vampire whose hunger could not be satiated by the norm, but with the blood of the innocent.