DELIRIA - YANDERE!CHUUYA NAKAHARA

Ten: See?

"So this will be a capture and rescue mission," Your voice is cold and authoritative. "Police will be aiding us in this. Medics will be present in the scene; you best not get in the way."

"Yes ma'am!" Your subordinates salute you as you debrief them.

Today is a stunning, beautiful morning, and you have woken up afresh despite the same old dusty dream you've been having: Trapped in your old home, with no promise of escape. You had pulled yourself together out of your bed with moisture pouring down your back, your pyjamas sticking to your skin as you had soaked the fabric through with your sweat. You had woken up panting as if you were really drowning in that dream, gasping for air and bringing a hand to your throat to feel your pulse. It throbbed violently against your fingers.

You sigh as your subordinates leave the room, lacing your fingers together and leaning against them.

No, no time for sentimentalities, you think to yourself. You stand up and push the chair back into the table, running your hands down your face. No time for sentimental drivel.

It's time to work.

The coordinates that the subject had given had turned out to be true; you were sent to point A with Chuuya, while Kouyou was sent out to point B. The coordinates were of the centre of a sex trafficking ring, with each holding a personnel that was managing every sex transaction that was occuring.

Digging more into it, you had also found out that these places were where the girls would be sent back after being pimped out, to be further used.

The car ride to the point is filled with the thrum and hum of the car engine, occasionally interrupted with the thud of a car road bump. Chuuya's driving, his car being tailed by the cars of subordinates behind. You're in the passenger seat with the seat belt strapped over your chest.

"Ready?" He asks, not taking his eyes off the road as he turns to a left. You hum, feeling the knife in your sleeve and the gun on your thigh with a hand. The knife remains strong and sharp under your tentative fingers.

"Yeah."

"You don't sound so ready," He looks at you in his peripherals, a hand on the steering wheel with the other adjusting the glass window pane on top of his head. "You sound nervous."

"I sound normal," You subtly insist, your eyes on the road in his stead as he looks in the mirror. "That's just you."

"Yeah?" He snaps the window to its place.

"Yeah." The car comes to a stop and you step outside of the vehicle and you come face-to-face with a small cottage house. The birds are chirping on the branches, their weight barely weighing the branch and twigs down as they sing their songs. Sparrows and mourning doves are splashed out on the floor, their heads bobbing and their feathers rustling, occasionally pecking at the floor with their tiny beaks. "This the place?"

"Yep." Chuuya curtly responds. He doesn't like anything about this place: The scenic background surrounding the scene of the crime, the seemingly innocuous corners, the soft edges blurring into the beauties of nature despite its horrendous core at the centre of everything. You walk towards the door and hold your gun up, standing by the side of the entrance.

"Ready?" You nod, before smashing the door open with your foot. "HANDS UP!"

You're met with a concert of screaming and indignant shouting, confused and outraged at your entrance. Your eyes scour over the dozens of faces, like sheep to a butcher, your gun barrel pointed directly at one of them.

It was these fuckers, alright. You could tell it by their faces: The twinge of shock and guilt, as though they had been caught with a hand halfway in the cookie jar.