The world never really made sense. Especially to her, at least.
The day the promise broke and she was left all alone, [Y/n] found herself alienated in the place she called home. After tracing whatever footprints her lost sibling left, the young girl...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
╔══════ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══════╗
真夜中の泥棒
╚══════ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══════╝
The sun glared upon the people of Yokohama as a certain brunette tipped her newsboy cap slightly, wiping the sweat forming on her forehead before ultimately deciding to take it off, her short braids bouncing with each step as they floated above her shoulders.
"God bless this city," she grumbled, entering the café and sighing in relief as the cold air-conditioned breeze gently fanned her skin.
"Irashai!" the female worker greeted, her faux smile piercing into [Y/n]'s soul as she greeted her back with equal demeanor. She adorned a black kimono paired with a frilly apron tied around her waist. "How can I help you?" she asked, her customer-service voice as high-pitched as ever. [Y/n] took a moment to think before ordering an iced latte to go and took a seat by the bar. Her back towards the bartender, taking in her surroundings as she waits.
Her golden orbs scanned the room, watching a young white-haired boy sweat-dropping at his coworkers whose heads were resting on the table. "We're burnt out," slurs the brown-haired man, sitting on the edge of the table to the young boy's left. [Y/n] decided to drown their conversation out as she focused on the boy standing, noticing how the rest of his belt that was too long to fit, drape like a tail. Her brow subtly raised as she turned back around to face the bar, her hand unclasping her flimsy leather shoulder bag and taking out a rolled-up news article, displaying the exact same teen behind her, only with a more serious expression.
'So, this is the weretiger...' [Y/n] thought, smirking to herself, her eyes slightly darkening as she continued to stare at the picture. 'The port mafia is hopeless,' she mocked, clicking her tongue as she rolled the newspaper back inside next to her hat. "Here's your drink," the waitress placed the iced latte in front of the young woman, her smile never once leaving her face.
[Y/n] returned as she grabbed the latte, slightly brushing the waitress' fingers. "Thank you, belladonna," [Y/n] nodded flirtatiously as she sipped her drink, lingering her gaze, mildly flustering the waitress as she took off with her drink, taking the elevator to the fourth floor of the building.
"Oh-" the waitress gasped as she looked at the door where the woman disappeared to, her hand midair frozen in action when serving the customer's latte.
"What's wrong?" Atsushi turned around, noticing her confused face. The rest of the agency members slightly perked up at his question, everyone now looking at the female worker besides Dazai.
At the same time, Dazai, who looked like he was slacking the entirety of the time, was secretly observing the woman dressed like a newspaper boy. From how her beige button-up blouse was tucked neatly into her tweed trousers, to her unruly unbuttoned-brown waistcoat, the male detective couldn't point-out her motives besides one other thing that caught his attention: the bandages peaking through her unbuttoned blouse.