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Hello everyone I wrote the first chapter of my fanfiction about yandere Taka, I hope you like it! At the moment, I can't post my work on AO3, so I'm posting it here. And unfortunately, at the moment it doesn’t have a name. Also! English is not my native language, so there may be various kinds of mistakes. Have fun reading! :D

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Ever since this truly frightening, oppressive nightmare began, one that choked me until I lost consciousness, blocking all my airways and filling my lungs with a heavy feeling, yet leaving beautiful marks on my neck, I couldn’t move or move forward as I had before. I could no longer think about honor or justice, couldn’t focus on my duties as a student at a reputable academy and as a future prime minister. I simply couldn’t meet my basic needs, such as eating or sleeping! All I could do was think. A lot. Long. Agonizingly.

When did I become like this? When did the morality I’d been drilled into my head all my life give way to an animalistic, unhealthy need for someone? When did the hands on the clock turn the wrong way, throwing me off my original path, pushing me into an inevitable abyss or, to put it another way, into the depths of hell?

When did the compass break?

____________________________________________

What a strange, unpleasant feeling! I’m standing on two limbs, but I can’t maintain my balance, which means I have to stumble periodically as I move on trembling legs into… emptiness? Darkness surrounds me; I’d even say it’s gloom. There’s a smell of dampness and dirt, as if I’ve found myself in a deep cave. I don’t know where I’m going, but I need to find an exit! My legs are no longer performing their function, barely holding me upright, but I keep walking. Even if I feel like I’m about to die from the coughing caused by this disgusting smell. Even if there isn’t a single ray of light in my path. Even… even if I get the feeling that I should just give up and accept my situation…

Even if…

—Heeey, is that Ishimaru?

Oh no. I’m familiar with this phrase. It never ended well. Fortunately, I knew how to deal with those bullies from whom I’d heard such things. All those years of hard training and discipline hadn’t been in vain! I’m sure… no, I know I’ll be able to stand up for my boundaries! After all, I’ve had to defend myself more than once when no one was around… should I say that it’s always been like that?

No, I shouldn’t. I just need to focus on the source of the sound, and if I’m attacked, I’ll fight back! But… where was it coming from?

I looked around the area again, and all I could see was emptiness. Not a single sign of a living soul near me, only oppressive darkness and a disgusting smell of dampness that grew stronger with every second spent in this place, which was unclear to me. The lack of understanding of what was happening and the absence of control over the situation weighed heavily on me, pressing down on my shoulders. This is a terrible feeling! I don’t understand what’s going on, what’s happening around me. I can’t do anything except keep going in circles, driving myself into an even deeper dead end, and that only gets on my nerves even more!

In difficult situations, I’m used to staying calm and keeping a clear head, adapting to the circumstances without any problems, establishing my own order, and thereby improving the situation. Perfectly honed leadership qualities play their role when the situation becomes frightening and, at first glance, incomprehensible. I firmly believe that no matter how hard life may be, no matter how low you may have sunk, no matter how far away the way out may seem, thanks to hard work you will achieve more than you can even imagine!

This is an obvious fact of life: you can’t just sit around and wait for everything to resolve itself! So why do I even think about the hopelessness of the situation, when I should be occupying my mind with thoughts about how to get out of this place!

However, with each step, it became harder and harder to think; no matter how hard I strained my brain, nothing came to mind. Thoughts blurred, words turned into incoherent mush, and my brain began to slowly deteriorate. I felt the weight of my own legs, as if a huge stone had been tied to them. Probably with the name “Ishimaru” scratched into it; then I had to get used to this feeling—after all, this weight has been attached to me all my life. I am obliged to carry this burden. With each step, it became harder to keep my head straight; I felt like a baby who had just emerged from its mother’s womb.

My straight, and, as far as I’m sure, perfect posture has failed miserably, forcing me to hunch into a shrimp‑like shape while my hind limbs continue to drag me in an unknown direction.

It’s hard.

I want to leave here.

I'm tired

When was the last time I thought about being tired? I can’t even remember. I didn’t have time to feel tired. There’s no time to get tired when all your thoughts are occupied with study material, planning your tasks for the month ahead, and involuntary reflections on your situation — reflections that usually came at night, when I, in theory, should be sleeping. I don’t know what it’s like to be tired. Maybe it’s when your knees give way, trembling from constant movement? When your eyelids feel like they’re about to close, threatening to pull you into a deep sleep? When every part of your body starts to ache and throb, begging you to stop for even five minutes? Well, then I can confidently call myself tired.

— Do you want to run away?

While I was lost in thought, someone’s voice sounded again, again from a direction unknown to me. This voice was different from the first one, but it seemed just as familiar to me as the first one. Why had I just noticed that the sound of the first person’s voice seemed familiar? Apparently, the vile smell of dampness has finally corroded my brain.

Finally, I grasped the meaning of the words directed at me. Do I want to run away? And who wouldn’t? What person in their right mind would want to be in an unfamiliar place, listening to barely familiar voices, literally falling apart?

— Of course, he does! Running away from responsibility is typical for Ishimaru.

…Excuse me?

Whoever this voice was, and wherever it came from, it was fundamentally wrong! I’ve never run away from responsibility; I literally find it hard to imagine a life in which I can’t keep control over everything that’s happening! My father was also too serious to ignore the problems that arose around him. My mother… unfortunately, I don’t remember anything about her; I was about three years old when she passed away, but, judging by my father’s stories, she was a strong, fearless woman! She would never have shirked her duties and preferred to deal with difficulties on her own, no matter how hard it was for her. My grandfather… he was the only Ishimaru who was truly a coward. He was too self‑centered, infantile, and arrogant to make sound decisions, preferring to let his genius do all the work. Because of his frivolity, we became who we are now: a shameful disgrace mired in debt, with a tarnished, cursed surname, which, when people heard it, made them either hasten to avoid you, casting condemnatory glances as if you were nothing more than dirt under a boot, or they would mock you and remind you time and again, with shame, to which family you belonged. But…but this does not negate the fact that the surname Ishimaru does not automatically imply only geniuses. With blood and sweat, I will be able to prove that the Ishimaru will prove themselves to be the best! So I shouldn’t just stand idly by and listen to these tactless, terrible, and, unfortunately, yet again, insults directed at my family!

I took another step forward and felt someone’s hand push me from behind, causing my already heavy legs to completely give out and let me fall.

I barely had time to realize what had happened when I suddenly found myself lying face down on the ground. It was humiliating. How humiliating. I tried to get up, but my own body stopped obeying me and wouldn’t follow my orders to get up and continue fighting for my family’s dignity. Meanwhile, unknown voices continued to sound from the darkness, coming from different corners, but they were definitely surrounding me, leaving me no way to move forward.

— Oh, did Ishimaru fall face‑first into the dirt again?

Stop it.

— What are you surprised about? He inherited it from his grandfather!

Enough.

— You’re right, another disgrace for Japan.

Shut up.

— Hey…Are you crying?

Crying? Apparently, I didn’t notice again how the tears started running down my cheeks. Once again. It’s annoying and unsettling. Why can’t I pull myself together and stop lying on the ground, mixing the dirt in front of my face with my tears? Meanwhile, the voices were getting closer and louder, as if trying to get into my head and sow toxic seeds in the soil of my consciousness.

Why do I let them do this?

Why can’t I stand up to fight back, like I used to?

Why do I feel as if I’m back in elementary school, listening to insults from my peers, whose parents were so embittered by my grandfather’s actions that they decided to take out their anger on the children — and they, in turn, on me?

— You’re always crying. Stop pretending, Ishimaru! Just forget about your dream of becoming prime minister and accept the fact that you’ll be following in your grandfather’s footsteps…

The voices that gradually got closer began to dance merrily next to my body, like a pack of hungry, stray dogs.

No.

— You will destroy the established policy…

Stop it.

— Become a hermit…

I TOLD YOU TO STOP!

— And you will die alone.

…

These words burned a hole in my head. This simple, clearly spoken sentence began to eat away at my brain, like a parasite, multiplying and leaving behind larvae to fill my mind with its kind.

The voices kept coming, swirling around me as if leading a dance. It felt like they were trampling me into the ground, trying to reduce me to dirt, while mocking me with satisfaction. But I can no longer listen to their words, my ears cut by their repulsive, gloating laughter. I no longer felt the pain in my body that had tormented me the entire time I spent in this damned, godforsaken place. I could only replay those words over and over again, rewinding what I had heard, as if it were the only record, and time and again delving even deeper into the meaning of every syllable.

You will die alone.

After what felt like the tenth time I repeated these words in my head, I started to wonder: what exactly are they wrong about? Who am I trying to be? I’m just another Ishimaru who thinks too highly of himself.

I’ve been doomed to failure since birth.

My last name speaks for itself.

I’ll never achieve anything meaningful. I’ll never feel my own worth. I’ll never feel loved by anyone.

Fragments of insults and malicious laughter continued to torment my seemingly already lifeless body, inside which there was no longer any former life or desire for greatness—only rot spreading through every cell of my consciousness, turning me into a stiffened corpse, which is exactly how I felt. I can’t move, I can’t raise my eyes, though there’s no point in that when you’re faced with utter darkness. Why did I suddenly stop seeing any meaning in anything, when before I would get up, straighten my back, lift my chin, and confidently face obstacles, no matter how difficult I found them?

How did I end up in this state, allowing myself to be seen as a rag doll that can be trampled on, mocked, and ultimately discarded if it’s not perfect, leaving me completely alone?

Where did my steel‑hard, unbreakable core go?

A chuckle.

What happened to my desire to take everything under control and not give in to provocations?

Second.

Why do I have to feel worthless, no matter how confident I am in my strength?

Third.

You mean nothing, Ishimaru.

If you can’t recognize your own worth and properly assess your skills, then others will treat you accordingly.

Nothing burdensome.

You’ve always been alone, and you’ll remain alone.

…

Some time passed before the loud mockery, the shouts of insults, and this strange, utterly unfunny dance came to an end. I realized this because I could finally hear my own heavy, ragged breathing, which was now no longer drowned out by someone else’s laughter. I closed my eyes for a moment and felt an incredible pain in my head, as if someone had hit me with a heavy boot. Maybe they really had been stomping on me? No matter how hard I tried to force myself to get up, I kept lying on the ground, wanting to turn inside out from the pain, and running the same words over and over in my head—words that, it seemed, had already taken root in my mind.

You will die alone.

Right. I didn’t have any other option. For someone who has spent their whole life unable to establish contact with their peers, who has always been in the background when it comes to socialization, and who has spent most of their adult life focusing on studying and self‑development, running away from the basic human need — communication.

No matter how hard I tried to start a normal, casual conversation with someone, it would end almost as soon as it began. Usually, people would roll their eyes as I recited my set of rules and life principles, cover their ears when the tone of my voice accidentally went above normal, and, with an expression of complete disgust, mutter something along the lines of “Ishimaru” under their breath and turn away.

At least this isn’t an elementary school where the kids would throw stones at me every day and play mean pranks on me—for example, they’d douse me with ice‑cold water while I was focused on something, or slip a dead hamster into my backpack. I wonder where they got it from. How disrespectful to the animal and its troubled soul…

Society has never considered me anything more than the loud, annoying, and intrusive grandson of a failed prime minister. I repelled people not only with my last name but also with my sharp temper. I don’t fully understand what exactly makes every person I start a conversation with instantly develop a dislike for me, after barely exchanging two words with me. But, as far as I know (at least, that’s what the same classmates told me — but now not just in elementary school, but also in middle school), I’m too…much. My voice cuts through the air and feels like a fork scraping against a plate or a loud, sharp whistle. I talk too much about topics that don’t contain even a drop of anything interesting. My eyes are too repulsive and frightening to look into for more than five seconds. And…oh, this is far from everything I’ve heard from others about myself.

Based on this, we can conclude that a person who is so repulsive, annoying, irritating, and completely uninteresting will not be able to integrate into society to such an extent that someone will find something close and familiar in them.

I wonder, what is it like? What is it like to feel your own importance and understand that the people around you will be by your side no matter what? What is it like to feel care and tenderness through simple touches that silently tell you about loyalty and convey promises of eternity together? What is it like to be loved?

With great effort, I forced myself to raise my head and, unsuccessfully, wipe away the dirt mixed with tears that had probably stopped flowing, having dried up completely. My movements didn’t go beyond sitting on the same dirty ground, clutching my head in my hands, unconsciously pulling out my hair with force. My once‑lively, energetic, and confident gaze now seemed empty and soulless, fixed not straight ahead but on some unknown, dark point. My eyes ached from this darkness and the tears that flowed like a waterfall. I gripped my head tighter with my hands, plunging myself into deep thought.

I am completely alone.

…

I don’t know how long I stayed in that position, but the situation didn’t change. The oppressive feeling of loneliness weighed on me like heavy rain on the ground.

It was wet.

Cold.

I’m cold.

I can’t say for sure whether it’s always been like this, but now I’ve definitely noticed how terrible, frightening, and nerve‑wracking loneliness can be — the kind that reeks of dampness and emits an incredible, unbearable cold that makes my body shudder, as if I’d lain down in an ice bath and stayed there until I developed fourth‑degree frostbite.

And suddenly —

In contrast to the oppressive, damp smell and the cold that was unreal for the average person —

Warmth…

It felt as if someone had installed heating in the middle of an ice age, and everything was starting to melt under the influence of sunlight, which, by the way, I felt before I noticed it. I raised my head as quickly as I could and indeed saw before me the brightest, lightest ray, standing out sharply against the absolute darkness, radiating incredible warmth mixed with something important and significant. I got the impression that, just by touching this sacred, angelic creature, I would receive all the love in the world that I had never even dreamed of, if I wanted it. And I do want it.

Ignoring the unbearable pain in my legs and the agony in my body, I hastily got up and directed my steps toward that divine ray, clumsily dragging myself toward it, doing everything I could to keep up with the warmth it could offer me.

With each step, I felt my body stop hurting. The headache subsided, and the old spark reappeared in my eyes, burning even brighter than before. My breathing evened out, and the warmth grew closer and closer.

I ran at a quick pace to the source of the light, and, as it turned out, I grabbed the sleeves of an unfamiliar coat. I looked up and saw a rather large figure of a person. I didn’t recognize either his facial features, which now seemed slightly blurred to me, or his strange, intricate cone‑shaped hairstyle, or his long, black coat, which I unconsciously clutched with a death grip, desperately refusing to let go even for a second. I quickly glanced at the person standing before me, and instantly, without wasting a second, I pressed myself against him, holding him tightly in my arms with such force that it felt as if I were trying to merge with him and become one.

Or perhaps I was trying to break his ribs so that it would be easier to blend our bodies into one. In any case, I didn’t intend to do the latter. I didn’t want to harm or hurt the stranger, even as I literally strangled him with my powerful arms. I didn’t want to bother him or burden him with my problems. But I wanted to feel the warmth, care, and boundless love that he radiated.

My fingers began to grip certain parts of the coat so tightly that it threatened to tear at any moment under the pressure of my need for this mysterious stranger. Later, I’ll have to apologize for him before this, but for now I just moved closer to the mysterious man, burying my nose in the crook of his neck and breathing in every part of his body, savoring the tenderness and care that he smelled of. I never thought I’d one day be so completely tactless and uncultured in pressing up against someone I’d never met before, but I couldn’t help myself. Just being near him, all my thoughts about dying alone—which for a moment had seemed quite real to me—began to recede, and in their place came the feeling that there was something else in my life besides the desire to become prime minister. This feeling returned to me once again, and even with greater strength and confidence than before, as soon as I gripped the black coat more tightly. Pressing my face against the stranger’s chest, for the first time in my life I allowed myself to enjoy the moment, not to dwell too much on the future, and just to be.

And then, all of a sudden —

I felt my hands, which had been clinging to the huge coat, suddenly grow empty, and the already familiar scent of care and boundless love began to fade away as, instead of warmth, I once again felt the cold.

From the feeling of emptiness that had returned to me, I quickly opened my eyes and, to my horror, discovered that the stranger was walking in the opposite direction, as if he were being forcibly taken away from me, deprived of all the happiness in the world.

The tenderness that had felt so pleasant and tingled in my chest, making my heart pound wildly against my ribs, was replaced by melancholy and primal fear for the treasure that was being taken from me.

I didn’t want to be selfish, I didn’t want to keep a stranger on a leash, but… didn’t I deserve it?

Haven’t I suffered enough, not only because of the events that made me lose faith in myself, but also because of all my pitiful seventeen years of life? I couldn’t allow the only thing that had truly brought me joy for once to be taken away from me.

As if the fate of an entire person depended on it, I quickly ran after the stranger, who kept being led away in a direction unknown to me, as they tried to keep him away from me. My legs began to move faster as I mentally begged the stranger to stop taking MY salvation away from me. However, there was no sign of progress: with each step, the stranger moved farther and farther away, not stopping for even a second to even look me in the eye, while I gasped for breath from the growing, repulsive odor and the running, the speed of which surprised even me. However, it felt as if a huge boulder had been tied to my feet again, its purpose being to undermine my mental well‑being.

I wasn’t going to give up. Not now.

Not when everything I needed as desperately as I needed air was slipping right out of my hands.

But despite all my efforts—which I hoped wouldn’t be in vain—the figure radiating all the heat and passion of the world vanished into thin air as if it had never existed, while I, in despair, tried to grab hold of the hem of the black cloak, which ultimately followed its master and disappeared along with him.

As soon as the only thing that could keep me in this world disappeared, I collapsed to the ground again, feeling only emptiness as the cold enveloped me once more, but with twice the intensity.

In despair, I pounded the ground with my fists, perhaps screaming unrestrainedly into the void. I don’t know, I can’t hear anything except the beat of my own heart, which felt like it was about to stop.

It wasn’t fair. Unfair. I deserve to be recognized! I deserve to feel at least a drop of care! I deserve to feel the warmth of another person’s body! I deserve to be loved.

As I raised my arm again, preparing to strike the ground above me once more, I heard a painfully familiar sound that immediately interrupted the flow of my thoughts.

Beep‑beep‑beep.

I jumped up from the bed abruptly, breathing rapidly, feeling a cold drop of sweat run down my forehead.

My fingers clutched the blanket that had been covering me, and my wide‑open eyes scanned the area I was in: it was… just my room.

— What…Was this just another dream? — I involuntarily said aloud, trying to steady my breathing and rubbing my still‑stuck eyelids. — What…WHAT TIME IS IT NOW?

In a panic, I turned my head toward the old clock on my bedside table and, to my relief, discovered that I had woken up exactly on schedule, at the pre‑set time!

06:15

Great. So, I’m on track with my plans, which were clearly laid out for today!

And yet...

I ran my hand through my hair, sighing heavily, feeling an unpleasant shiver run down my spine after yet another, but even stranger and more unbearable, nightmare.

— What a terrible dream…

#kiyotaka ishimaru #ishimondo #mondo owada #danganronpa trigger happy havoc #yandere #Yandere Ishimaru Kiyotaka #fanfic #danganronpa

______________________________________________

When did the compass break?

____________________________________________

Even if…

—Heeey, is that Ishimaru?

No, I shouldn’t. I just need to focus on the source of the sound, and if I’m attacked, I’ll fight back! But… where was it coming from?

My straight, and, as far as I’m sure, perfect posture has failed miserably, forcing me to hunch into a shrimp‑like shape while my hind limbs continue to drag me in an unknown direction.

It’s hard.

I want to leave here.

I'm tired

— Do you want to run away?

— Of course, he does! Running away from responsibility is typical for Ishimaru.

…Excuse me?

I took another step forward and felt someone’s hand push me from behind, causing my already heavy legs to completely give out and let me fall.

— Oh, did Ishimaru fall face‑first into the dirt again?

Stop it.

— What are you surprised about? He inherited it from his grandfather!

Enough.

— You’re right, another disgrace for Japan.

Shut up.

— Hey…Are you crying?

Why do I let them do this?

Why can’t I stand up to fight back, like I used to?

— You’re always crying. Stop pretending, Ishimaru! Just forget about your dream of becoming prime minister and accept the fact that you’ll be following in your grandfather’s footsteps…

The voices that gradually got closer began to dance merrily next to my body, like a pack of hungry, stray dogs.

No.

— You will destroy the established policy…

Stop it.

— Become a hermit…

I TOLD YOU TO STOP!

— And you will die alone.

…

These words burned a hole in my head. This simple, clearly spoken sentence began to eat away at my brain, like a parasite, multiplying and leaving behind larvae to fill my mind with its kind.

You will die alone.

I’ve been doomed to failure since birth.

My last name speaks for itself.

I’ll never achieve anything meaningful. I’ll never feel my own worth. I’ll never feel loved by anyone.

How did I end up in this state, allowing myself to be seen as a rag doll that can be trampled on, mocked, and ultimately discarded if it’s not perfect, leaving me completely alone?

Where did my steel‑hard, unbreakable core go?

A chuckle.

What happened to my desire to take everything under control and not give in to provocations?

Second.

Why do I have to feel worthless, no matter how confident I am in my strength?

Third.

You mean nothing, Ishimaru.

If you can’t recognize your own worth and properly assess your skills, then others will treat you accordingly.

Nothing burdensome.

You’ve always been alone, and you’ll remain alone.

…

You will die alone.

I am completely alone.

…

I don’t know how long I stayed in that position, but the situation didn’t change. The oppressive feeling of loneliness weighed on me like heavy rain on the ground.

It was wet.

Cold.

I’m cold.

And suddenly —

In contrast to the oppressive, damp smell and the cold that was unreal for the average person —

Warmth…

And then, all of a sudden —

I didn’t want to be selfish, I didn’t want to keep a stranger on a leash, but… didn’t I deserve it?

I wasn’t going to give up. Not now.

Not when everything I needed as desperately as I needed air was slipping right out of my hands.

As soon as the only thing that could keep me in this world disappeared, I collapsed to the ground again, feeling only emptiness as the cold enveloped me once more, but with twice the intensity.

It wasn’t fair. Unfair. I deserve to be recognized! I deserve to feel at least a drop of care! I deserve to feel the warmth of another person’s body! I deserve to be loved.

As I raised my arm again, preparing to strike the ground above me once more, I heard a painfully familiar sound that immediately interrupted the flow of my thoughts.

Beep‑beep‑beep.

I jumped up from the bed abruptly, breathing rapidly, feeling a cold drop of sweat run down my forehead.

My fingers clutched the blanket that had been covering me, and my wide‑open eyes scanned the area I was in: it was… just my room.

— What…Was this just another dream? — I involuntarily said aloud, trying to steady my breathing and rubbing my still‑stuck eyelids. — What…WHAT TIME IS IT NOW?

In a panic, I turned my head toward the old clock on my bedside table and, to my relief, discovered that I had woken up exactly on schedule, at the pre‑set time!

06:15

Great. So, I’m on track with my plans, which were clearly laid out for today!

And yet...

I ran my hand through my hair, sighing heavily, feeling an unpleasant shiver run down my spine after yet another, but even stranger and more unbearable, nightmare.

— What a terrible dream…

#kiyotaka ishimaru #ishimondo #mondo owada #danganronpa trigger happy havoc #yandere #Yandere Ishimaru Kiyotaka #fanfic #danganronpa

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