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i like Yandere!III, that's all I'm going to say on the matter.
i...kinda like this one, actually. There aren't many IIIxYuma fics out there. Which sucks because these two are adorable! So, enjoy! I own nothing, obviously.
I frowned as my eyes scanned the file before me. Another murder? So soon? I looked up at the individual standing before my desk, a male with purple hair in a style that reminded me of tentacles and deep blue eyes. "When did this happen?"
"The body was found at midnight last night," Kamishiro Ryouga, who often went by the nickname of Shark, told me, "They brought the body to me, and from what I could tell, it had been dead for about 12 hours before it was found." He crossed his arms.
I looked at the picture of the body. "The way the throat is slit, a Roman numeral III smeared on the cheek with blood and the fact that no DNA other than the victims was found..." I looked at Shark. "You think-?"
"It's gotta be," he replied with a scowl.
I sighed and closed the folder. On the front, printed in large black ink were the words "Case of III". "I assume I have to wait to examine the scene?"
Shark nodded. "Kaito wants you to wait before heading over. One of the newbies thinks he found something, so he wants to double check."
I stood up. "Alright." I stood up and put the folder in one of the cabinets behind my chair. Glancing at the clock, I pulled my jacket on. "I'm going to head home. I've got a headache."
"I've got to send a blood sample to the labs," Shark said, "And do a bit of analysis on the body, so I'm going to head out."
I waved at Shark as he left before leaving myself, making sure I had my laptop and anything else important before locking up my office. I made my way to my car and climbed in before driving home.
I entered the apartment I shared with a close friend of mine, who evidently wasn't home. I set my laptop aside, took off my hat and coat and headed towards the bathroom. I grabbed some clothes from my room on the way there.
After a quick shower, I exited the bathroom, wearing a white t-shirt and grey sweat pants and toweling my damp black and red hair dry. As I did so, I heard a familiar voice say "Ah, Yuma! Your home!"
I finished toweling my hair and opened my eyes, seeing my roommate standing before me. He had pink hair that was black in the back and bright green eyes, and he wore a red jacket with gold trimmings over a white button up shirt and tan pants.
"Michael," I said, smiling, "Hey." I sat on the couch as Michael took the love seat and said "You got home late yesterday."
Michael smiled sheepishly. "I worked overtime."
I frowned. "I see." I leaned back against the couch. "I got a call from a coworker. Seems you were a little klutzy while working overtime."
His face turned light pink. "Y-yeah, a little, but not too bad. I won't get fired, that's for sure. And nobody really noticed, I don't think."
"Someone noticed," I said casually.
"I hope not," Michael said. The chime of a digital bell tower's bells ringing started to play, and Michael took out his phone from his pocket and glanced at the screen. "Ah, it's Thomas." Without another word he entered the kitchen, answering his phone. I sighed, closing his eyes, feeling the headache from earlier begin to pound a bit.
"I certainly hope you don't get fired," I murmured under my breath, sighing, feeling suddenly exhausted.
I suppose that's what happens when you live with a serial killer.
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