Chapter Text
The streets of Yokohama had grown quieter since the previous night, the usual hum of commerce and human chatter replaced by a heavy, expectant silence. Dazai moved through them as if the city itself were alive—a playground for hunters and hunted alike. The mist clung to the edges of alleys, curling around lampposts and crates like a living curtain, perfect for hiding in plain sight. Dazai’s trench coat flared slightly as he stepped over puddles, his eyes scanning the shadows with a predator’s focus—not to strike, but to watch.
Chuuya Nakahara.
The name repeated in his mind like a melody he couldn’t shake. That red-eyed gaze, the subtle restraint in his feeding, the heart—not blood—he had torn from that cow. Most vampires would have drained it instantly, mindless in their hunger. Not Chuuya. There was method to his madness, and that method intrigued Dazai far more than it should.
Perched atop a low rooftop near the outskirts of the city, overlooking a small park that bordered the countryside, Dazai’s eyes caught movement before his ears did: a small, bat-like figure flitting from one shadow to the next. Chuuya.
The vampire landed with fluid grace behind a barn, unseen by human eyes but clearly visible to Dazai. From this vantage point, Dazai could observe him without being noticed—a perfect setup. He had no intention of confronting Chuuya tonight. No, tonight was for learning, and Dazai had always enjoyed gathering information more than rushing headlong into a fight.
Chuuya’s routine was peculiar. He stalked a small herd of cows, circling silently, before selecting one and pinning it with a surprising burst of strength. Then, with careful precision, he extracted the heart, tearing at sinew and muscle with practiced skill. No chaos, no mindless feeding—just controlled consumption. Dazai’s brow arched in quiet admiration.
“Hmm…” he murmured. “So the famous Shadow vampire is a gourmet, then. Very… cultured.”
He made no move to intervene, instead observing quietly as Chuuya finished his meal and wiped the remnants from his lips. The vampire’s ears twitched, scanning for threats, his eyes flicking briefly toward the treeline where humans might pass. Even now, he was cautious, disciplined.
Hours stretched on as Dazai shifted along rooftops and fences to maintain the perfect vantage point. He noted every motion: the slight flex of Chuuya’s claws, the way he balanced on narrow beams, the flicker of crimson when sensing movement. Chuuya’s habits were consistent—methodical—but small variations suggested adaptability, intelligence, and perhaps… curiosity.
Around midnight, Chuuya paused, glancing at the barn door as if hearing a sound that Dazai could not. The vampire crouched, tension coiled like a spring, then relaxed as nothing emerged. Dazai allowed himself a quiet chuckle. Smart, cautious, aware… excellent traits. And yet predictable enough.
Over the next few days, Dazai became a ghost in the city, meticulously following Chuuya’s nightly movements. He catalogued feeding patterns, escape routes, favored hiding spots—anything that might reveal a vulnerability or, more importantly, the mind behind the monster. Every night he returned home at dawn, trench coat streaked with mist and faint traces of animal blood from rooftops, porches, and barns.
One morning at the Agency, Ranpo found him leaning against a wall, eyes half-closed, still reviewing mental notes of Chuuya’s routines. “Hey, Dazai,” Ranpo said, yawning so widely it looked painful, “when will you get back to going on missions? I’m so tiirreddd!”
Dazai’s expression softened slightly, a tiny flicker of guilt passing over his otherwise mischievous face. “I am on a mission, Ranpo. Just… haven’t caught the vampire yet.”
Ranpo groaned. “Well, hurry up then! I need my sleep!”
Dazai’s usual smirk didn’t appear. He hadn’t realized how much time had passed and how it had affected his coworkers. A brief pang of responsibility tugged at him before he shoved it aside; Chuuya wasn’t just another target. He was… different.
By the next day, Fukuzawa noticed that Chuuya had not yet been “dealt with.” The veteran hunter frowned and reassigned Dazai to other missions. Officially, he was no longer on Mission: Chuuya, but that did nothing to curb his curiosity. In fact, Dazai found it exhilarating to operate outside the constraints of the agency’s expectations. Now he could observe Chuuya at his leisure, completely unnoticed.
It was on one of these nights that Dazai followed Chuuya to a destination entirely new. The vampire moved swiftly, silently, toward a colossal structure that rose impossibly into the sky. Its silhouette dominated the horizon, an abandoned tower that seemed as tall as modern skyscrapers. The building was ancient but imposing, its presence alone commanding attention.
Inside, the interior was more astonishing than Dazai could have imagined. Towering pillars, intricately carved, stretched to the ceiling, and blue-stained glass bathed every surface in an eerie, ethereal glow. Every corner seemed carefully designed, yet abandoned—a cathedral of forgotten grandeur. A long hall led to a room the size of a small ballroom. There, a massive table stretched nearly the entire length of the room, surrounded by empty chairs, all lined with dust and shadows.
Dazai crouched behind a corner, breath barely audible, observing Chuuya kneeling before someone seated at the far end of the table. The figure was massive in presence, radiating power that made Dazai’s pulse quicken. His eyes narrowed behind the shadows.
Bram Stoker.
The progenitor of all vampires. The first of his kind. The vampire legends whispered across centuries, whose very name could bend the will of lesser monsters. Dazai felt a shiver run down his spine—not fear, but the kind of exhilaration that came from knowing he had stumbled onto the heart of darkness itself. He felt only a tiny bit of nervousness.
Chuuya lowered his head in respect or perhaps fear—Dazai couldn’t yet tell—but the dynamics of the room were clear: the Shadow kneeling before the Lord of Vampires, aware that he was more than just a subordinate. And Dazai, hidden in the shadows, knew that this night was only the beginning of something far greater than a simple hunt.