Psycho

never f*** with the daughter of a serial killer

Tanjirou’s POV

My body froze the moment his hand touched my forehead. It was soft, almost tender, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of dread crawling up my spine. His smile—innocent on the surface—concealed something darker, more obsessive. My heart raced, conflicting feelings boiling beneath my skin. I couldn’t ignore the undeniable truth that part of me was drawn to him—Muichiro. The way his sharp gaze softened around me made something stir deep inside. But no… No, I couldn’t love a killer, could I?

His fingers combed through my hair, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine. For a long moment, we stayed in silence, the tension in the air thickening with every passing second. I needed to say something, anything, to break this trance.

“M-Muichiro… what’s going on?” I cursed myself for stuttering, my voice barely more than a whisper.

His smile widened, eyes gleaming with something almost feral. "Oh, sweet Tanjirou-kun... you're just too innocent, aren't you? Isn’t it obvious?" His voice was low, almost playful, but with an undercurrent of possessiveness. "You're here so no one can take you away from me. So we can be together forever." He leaned closer, his breath warm against my cheek. "I'll see you later, though. I have something to take care of... love you."

He tried to press his lips against my cheek, but I jerked away. His expression faltered for a split second before he sighed, standing up slowly.

"You're a psycho!" I yelled, my voice cracking as I watched him ascend the stairs.

He paused at the top, his voice eerily calm as he responded, "All because of you."

My heart hammered in my chest. I couldn't stay here. I couldn't be with him. But... why did my heart ache at the thought of being apart?

---

Tsuki’s POV

The cigarette burned down to the filter, and I crushed it beneath my boot, watching the smoldering ashes join the pile of butts already littering the floor. My sister would hate this. But then again, she probably hated a lot of things about me lately.

I hadn’t smoked before today. Funny how murder changes a person. The nicotine hadn’t been as bad as people made it out to be, just… another distraction. Another thing to dull the ever-present scream in the back of my mind.

The shower water ran red as I scrubbed the last of the blood from my body, pieces of brain matter still clinging stubbornly to my clothes. Aki's face flashed in my mind, and I cursed under my breath. How the hell was I supposed to explain why she wasn’t with me?

Dressed in black low-rise pants and a t-shirt that looked like something straight out of a mummy's wardrobe, I grabbed my leather jacket and a cap, hiding most of my face except for my angel-cut hair. I needed to meet the others, needed to pretend like everything was fine. But as soon as I stepped out the door, a hand clamped over my mouth.

“Son of a—!” My words were muffled by the cloth, and a sickly-sweet smell filled my lungs as darkness overtook me.

---

Zenitsu’s POV

My hands were still trembling, but at least the panic had subsided, if only a little. The scene upstairs... Kori still hadn’t stopped crying, clinging to Yuzu like a lifeline. I couldn’t blame her. We all saw the same horror, but the question on everyone’s mind was whether we should call the police.

"They’d think we did it..." Kori’s voice was hoarse from crying, and Yuzu gently rubbed her back in soothing circles.

“Maybe some water will help calm us down,” Yuichiro said, standing from his chair, barely phased by the nightmare we had just witnessed. He headed toward the kitchen like it was a regular afternoon. I stared after him, wondering how someone could be so detached. Was it some kind of emotional disorder? (Yes yes it is) Or was this normal for him?(Also yes)