A/N Hey y'all, my "expertise" in fanfics is usually focused on anime (and a few specific ones at that) but today I was watching gamers on Youtube while procrastinating on studying for finals, and of all things, I was watching Yandere Simulator.
You know where this is going.
So, I just wanted to write a little one-shot about our dear Yandere-chan. If any of you lovely readers have played the game or watched someone play the game, there's a glitch that if you kill Senpai, Yandere-chan will still stalk him at the end of the day, as if he's still alive.
We all know that she's already got a screw loose, but what about in more ways than one...?
Warnings: Yandere Simulator (the game itself being warning), dark themes
Disclaimer: The extent of my knowledge on technology only goes so far as to opening a new tab on Chrome (even then, I struggle)
Her insanity is addicting.
It is the nectar of gods, the vice of men, the air of organisms, lurking in the darkest corners of her mind, feeding her with crackling whispers and laughing words, and she listens to it because she trusts it. She cannot live without it, and it cannot live without her. Some would say that insanity is a parasite-living off the genius of one's mind while giving nothing but death and destruction in return, but for her it's a mutualistic partner-as much as it benefits from her, she benefits from it.
Does she control insanity? Or does insanity control her?
She doesn't control insanity, she muses as she twists a knife into the stomach of a girl, spilling red fluorescence across pavement, the sun's rays reflecting off of a waterfall and glittering jewels going slack-dulled.
Insanity isn't controlled, not by her, not by anyone. It's a separate being, a separate entity altogether that no amount of strength, whether physical or mental, could possibly conquer because it is a god in her world, dictating what she does or doesn't do, what she does or doesn't say, what she does or doesn't show.
Yet at the same time, insanity doesn't control her, she has an epiphany, as the whirring of electricity and grinding of metal teeth whirs through the air, fluorescent red giving her a premature bath.
After all, insane people don't know they're insane-now, those types are the ones who let insanity control them, turn them into shells of their former selves, shrinking and wasting them away into walking corpses that do the bidding of the untouchable mastermind locked within their brains. An antagonist that no one in this world can ever defeat because it can't be touched-it is intangible, it is untouchable, it is unbeatable.
And that's why she's not insane, because she is well aware of the sentient mind the exists within her own. She is aware of her own insanity-everyone has some, and it only takes a matter of time to find your own. She has found it, she is aware of it, she is embracing it.
Those types of people who are insane but don't know that they're insane-she envies them at times, even though she's better off here, as she is, now, because they have no worries. To them, there is no illusion because everything is clear as day; no hallucinations, no lies, because what they say is what is true, what is touchable, seeable, smellable, hearable, tasteable, senseable. The world is like putty in their hands, to be melded and shaped in any way, shape, or form, without consequences, because they are oblivious, blissfully oblivious.
Except for her.
She is not graced with that type of luck, and she knows very well that this world won't bend in that way for her, and that's all because of him.
He has no name-if he had one, she would call him by that name, but he doesn't even have one, and that should bother her, but it doesn't because-him.
He's perfect.
And for once she feels something that pumps through her veins, a different feeling to the one that shivers through her veins when she picks up a glint of metal, that turns her heartbeat red and racing and sharp, into jumping lines and spikes, the adrenaline that never fails to lift her high, except the feeling that she gets around him is infinitely softer, with fluff and clouds and it's just so sweet and innocent-
And she hates it.
The shivering of her heart associated with fluorescent red is different from the shivering of her heart accompanied with choking pink that forces her to cup her hands when she's around him, to look down at the ground because she cares, she's self-conscious, it matters to her so much, and there's no reason, no explanation-
That's why she hates it so much.
"What's up with her?"
Nothing! she screams, even as purple and black and shy, curling hands stain the masterpiece of fluorescent red infusing itself into the floor, a leaf fluttering from her hand and clattering onto the ground.
"She's acting strange..."
It's all because of you! she wants to scream at him, but she can't, because the choking, suffocating, drowning pink floods in and up and down and out of her mouth, forcing the words in then out then back in, and all she can do is scream it at the intricate patterns that flow across pavement in late afternoon, or into a dark room with no one else around except the crouching predator in the confines of her mind, just begging to be let out-and sometimes, she does, and it is.
"That girl is kinda weird..."
Don't look at me! she screams, and her voice cracks, which she covers up with more metal, more armor, more fluorescent red, which leads into that erratic shivering, all of which is resolved in a sardonic twist of her lips-small and satisfied, cackling laughs spilling, lowering what shouldn't be so erratic in the first place to a relatively steady pace.
"She's starting to freak me out..."
I hate you! she wants to scream to the entire world, but it just doesn't work that way, so she has to settle for her pillow, curling up and around something she finds no comfort in, finding it torn and limp in the morning, and shame crashes through her much like insanity, but the low feels much worse than the high.
And she realizes that he's holding her back, he's the reason that this world isn't bending like putty in her warm, hot hands, and that's when she decides that she'll just get rid of him.
So the next morning she gets up and she puts on her clothes. She rips apart the shrine sitting in the corner of the room, ignoring the pain in her shivering, pulpy mess of a heart, throwing it all away in disarray before grabbing the smallest weapon she can think of-a screwdriver, a pair of scissors, hell, a pencil, and gluing it to her hand because when the pink comes, she can't seem to hold onto anything, so she drowns and drowns further and harder sinking too deep to ever get back up again.
Then she goes to school and keeps to herself-the quiet girl, forever ignored, but that's okay because by the end of this day, everybody will know her name, and who she is, and why they should fear her.
She walks up to him-like always, he's heading the lines, so perfect, and without another warning, brings her arms up in a deadly arc, forcing the pink and the shivering out of her system, just long enough for the tip of whatever weapon she chose (she can't remember, why can't she remember?) to pierce his skin, and even in death, he creates the perfect corpse.
Screams echo and she smiles as she stands right next to his fluorescent red body, not bothering to hide or to even deny anything as the teachers come running up and pin her to the ground, because she's finally free-
And so is that little beast caged so deep inside her mind.
Halfway through writing through this, I accidentally pressed the wrong button, and the page refreshed but I had saved barely ANY of my final draft! I had to rewrite it all from scratch using my scant memory, so I'm sorry that it isn't as good as what I had originally planned.
But still, I hope you guys liked it. I hope you can guess the people who Yandere-chan killed (I'm pretty sure I made some pretty good references), and don't be afraid to comment!
Like with most of my fics, this one's pretty open-ended, so I'm letting you guys decide what happened and what will happen in the future. Hey, creative license-it's a thing.
Yeah. Peace, see ya next time, hope you liked it!
Never (LivingDaLife)