𝄞 THE RED MEANS I LOVE YOU . . .
Synopsis: You're Ryoba's object of adoration. Unfortunately for both you and her, there are other girls vying for your attention as well. Characters: Ryoba Aishi, Sumire Saitozaki, Kaguya Wakaizumi, Moeko Rakuyona, Honami Hodoshima, Sumiko Tachibana, Ritsuko Chikanari, Ai Doruyashi, Teiko Nabatasai, Komako Fukanoshi, Chigusa Busujima and Sonoko Sakanoue x Fem!Reader Content Warnings: Mentions of murder, stalking, bullying, overall yandere themes Word Count: 4.6K A/N: This is basically the 1980s version to this fic. As always; live, laugh, fuck Yanderedev.
-> Also available on AO3!
Ryoba had heard it all before. The sappy tales of love printed out in hues of red and plastered to the walls of the cinema she passed by on her way home. The myriads of love letters being passed from desk to desk. The risquè magazines hidden under every girl’s bed, displaying a conveniently plastic form of love.
“You’ll find love someday, sweetheart. Everyone does.”
That’s the mantra her grandma had raised her with, as had every Aishi before her. It’s quite bleak at first but when it happens, it’s like the prophetic first blossom of a cherry tree. And if even someone as arrogant as her mother had scored a man of her own, then little Ryoba could too.
And so, she waited. She learned how to mimic facial expressions, display a false sense of empathy and blend in with the crowds.
Middle school came and went. Nothing. Not a single buzz of electricity, not even the faintest hint of that telling pink fog.
The first day of high school rolled around. Ryoba tightened the band holding her silky hair in a low ponytail, mentally preparing herself for another year of pretending she’s head over heels for the student council president. Bitter as she was, she left behind the bento her grandma had prepared for her; a decision she came to regret when her stomach rumbled with agitation during lunch break.
This left her stalking around the vending machines, excavating through her bag for any spare change. Just as she was expecting a moth to mockingly fly out of it, she was greeted by your hand on her shoulder instead. She turned around to lock eyes with the amorphous muse of her dreams.
“Hey, uhm… you look hungry. Would you like my bento? I packed too much food this morning.”
Bullseye. Ryoba was left clutching your bento with twitchy hands, the scent of toasted rice wrapping around her like a cozy blanket. She watched wide-eyed as you strolled back to your seat, oblivious to the fact that one simple gesture of yours pierced an arrow through her heart and left her weak at the knees. Her lips curled in a dumb smile, her whole being consumed with ecstacy. She finally understood.
“That was really nice of you, Y/N!”
A giddy voice snapped Ryoba out of it, hearts curling in on themselves like wilted flowers. She watched as you sat across a girl with maroon hair and sunset eyes that reflected a little too much admiration.
You smiled coyly. “Oh, it’s nothing. I could tell she needed it. But if we’re talking about the epitome of kindness, then that title goes to you, Sumire.”
Cotton candy dusted the girl’s cheeks. She raised a hand to her mouth and huffed a laugh.
Ryoba’s eyelid twitched. Great. Competition.
Thankfully, family tradition was bound to prove useful at some point. And it was about time Ryoba asked her grandma for some advice.
Sumire Saitozaki
It was just Ryoba’s luck that you managed to score another admirer on the very first day of school. The whole situation was tragically comedic and a testament to the sunshine that radiated from you at the same time. But from the moment your eyes locked, Ryoba knew she wasn’t going to share.
She spent the first few days watching from afar as Sumire talked your ears off, gazed lovingly at you during class and followed you around like a lost puppy. You responded with your usual toolkit of charms; laugh, blush and compliment. You were so damn lucky they worked on Ryoba too.
It didn’t take long for envy to cloud her mind. One more day of watching that loser shamelessly pine after you and Ryoba was sure she was going to start banging her head on the wall. So, she decided to act.
Admittedly, her strategy was rushed. She left a cryptic note in Sumire’s locker, luring her to the girls’ bathroom on the third floor. The lovestruck idiot took the bait. This led to their fatal confrontation; tense on one side, flustered on the other.
“You know who I have a crush on?! That’s so embarrassing!” She squealed with her head in her hands as Ryoba fished her knife out of her bag.
At least she had enough decency to grant her a quick death, as mercy was spread out thin amongst the Aishis. But impatience can be damning, and Ryoba learned that the hard way when she neglected to mop up a single blood stain. One singular blood stain that had faculty and students alike freaking out and authorities storming the school. And though the entirety of Buraza town was shaken terribly by the prospect of murder at such an elite school, they’d never pin it anywhere near her.
In hindsight, Ryoba didn’t regret her decision. She only regretted not cleaning thoroughly enough, given that the tense atmosphere and the watchful gaze of the police over the school made her conquest even more thorny.
But a paranoid journalist and a small raincloud over your head weren’t going to deter her. If anything, they gave her a justification for her obsession. Akademi wasn’t a safe place so, it’s only right Ryoba followed you around to make sure you’re okay.
Kaguya Wakaizumi
Despite only knowing Sumire for a short while, her sudden disappearance had its toll on you. Ryoba noticed how you’d pace about aimlessly, glancing all around in you in hopes of spotting your friend. This would be the perfect opportunity for your rightful suitor to slip in and provide some much needed comfort. But instead, you found solace in the gardening club.
With shaky hands and clumsy movements, you tried to tip the watering can just right, only to end up soaking the dirt a little too much. A gentle hand on yours paused your movements. The sakura representative of the gardening club greeted you with an upbeat smile.
“You must be new here. Don’t worry! Let me show you how it’s done.”
Ryoba could only stare in disbelief as Kaguya showed you how to plant seeds, trim leaves and uproot weeds. Narrative irony is a cruel mistress and Ryoba is her scapegoat.
It wasn’t long before you were glued to Kaguya’s hip, her carefree attitude distracting you from your melancholy. Her tangents about her other rainbow-themed friends and all things related to flowers were oddly comforting.
With Sumire’s disappearance still fresh, Ryoba couldn’t risk murder again. Instead, she decided to limit herself to a simple injury that would foil any and all of Kaguya’s attempts to impress you.
While the nurse was busy tending to an unfortunate case of food poisoning, Ryoba snuck around her office to unearthe Kaguya’s medical records. Conveniently, her allergy to lavenders was highlighted in red.
After wasting all of her piggy bank money on bouquets of lavenders, Ryoba scattered them around places Kaguya was bound to interact with. Her school bag, the gardening shed, her bento…
It took less than an hour for rashes to blossom all over her hands and face. Coughing fits and watery eyes followed soon after. And Kaguya’s determination wasn’t enough to get her through asking you out to a bubble tea date.
Sufficiently humiliated, Kaguya rushed to the infirmary. Nobody told her embarrassment tasted like lavender. But this predicament gave Ryoba the opportunity to note down your favourite flowers. Once you were hers, she’d make sure every flower shop in Japan ran out of them.
Moeko Rakuyona
One of the things that had Ryoba extremely paranoid was those pesky delinquents perched near the incinerator. They had whistled at you more than once, throwing snide comments in your direction while twirling nailed bats in their bandaged hands.
One morning, after a particularly distasteful word got thrown your way, Ryoba saw red. She cracked her knuckles, ready to defend your honour. But a particularly tomboyish girl with hair as fiery as her personality jumped to your defense instead.
“Hey now, enough with the catcalling! One more word and I’m beating all of your asses!”
Surprisingly, it worked. The boys begrudgingly backed off, muttering profanities under their breath.
You repeatedly thanked Moeko, your compliments ranging from "gentlemanly" to “knight-like”. The praise went straight to her ego, her chest swelling with pride. She offered to demonstrate more of her masculine manners by carrying your bags and walking you to and from school, supposedly to protect you from those nasty hoodlums.
But not all of Moeko’s habits included carrying you bridal-style and flexing her muscles to you, all in the name of earning another flustered giggle and adorable blush out of you. In keeping with her red-hot theme, she had an equally spicy secret. When no one was looking, she’d sneak behind the gym with a can of gasoline and a pack of matches. She had to play safe, of course, so she made sure to keep the flames contained within a barrel.
The whole situation was an accident waiting to happen. And the young spitfire was about to find out why fire hazards were deemed as such. A life lesson, if you will.
In a sense, Ryoba went easy on her. She could’ve burnt Moeko to a crisp, but she wasn’t about to risk attracting more prying eyes to herself. So, she tampered with the gasoline just enough to leave some lifelong marks all over Moeko’s face.
The third-degree burns would keep her out of school for plenty of time. The faculty went on to enforce a strict ban on matches and lighters. And Ryoba vowed that she’d be the only one left to set your heart ablaze.
Honami Hodoshima
The library provided the peace and quiet Ryoba needed to work on her scrapbook of you, without having to worry about someone looking over her shoulder. Unfortunately, it was also the place where you met the mousy bookworm of your class.
“U-uhm, pardon me! I didn’t mean to knock over your books…” Honami stammered as she rushed to gather your fallen books from the floor.
You shrugged it off with a comforting smile, but not without stealing a glance at the cover of Honami’s book. The moment you recognized the author’s name, the floodgates opened to your new friendship.
Honami would word-vomit about whatever book she had just finished and you’d lean against your palm with a smile. You’d show her your favourite novellas and she’d blush with timid excitement. Meanwhile, Ryoba would watch from the near distance with her nose between the pages of the Anarchist Cookbook.
Thankfully, Honami wasn’t too difficult to figure out. It was obvious that her awkward demeanor was a result of years of bullying from her peers. It was only natural that having someone as dazzling as you hang out with her would serve as a significant confidence boost. And while Ryoba didn’t want to solidify her reputation as a gossip just yet, she had to put that nerd in her place somehow.
One particularly sleepy morning, when the halls were sparsely populated and no one was looking, Ryoba cornered Honami in the bathroom. This time, her tongue was her weapon. With thinly-veiled threats and insults that could cut through bone, the poor girl left with crooked glasses and a runny nose. The message was clear; stay away from Y/N before you get hurt.
Despite being liked amongst teachers, Honami didn’t have the courage to confide in any of them about this incident. Instead, she quietly retreated into herself once more and began avoiding you like the plague. Which allowed Ryoba to resume her arts and crafts project without having to listen to her ramble to you about Haruki Murakami or whatever.
Sumiko Tachibana
Ryoba didn’t expect that PE would grow so much on her. It gave her the opportunity to watch you stretch, huffing laboured breaths with a thin layer of sweat over your forehead. Not to mention she got to steal peeks at you in the changing room too.
One day like many others, Ryoba was hiding behind a bush, partially to avoid getting roped into a game of volleyball but mostly to watch you run laps on the field. But amidst her dreamy sighs and in the blink of an eye, you were down; trembling whole and clutching your stomach.
Ryoba’s protective instincts kicked in full-force. She was about to abandon her hiding spot and rush to your side, only to be beaten to it by none other than Akademi’s best athlete.
“Woah there! Are you okay? Here, have some water.”
You allowed Sumiko to bring the rim of her plastic water bottle to your lips. She lifted you to your feet, guiding you away from the scorching sun to a nearby bench. As you nibbled on one of her protein bars, she rambled about vitamins and energy and whatnot. And to make matters worse, she insisted on helping you exercise everyday.
You were never one to refuse help, so you picked up her daily routine. Unbeknownst to you, Ryoba would get increasingly nauseous whenever Sumiko’s hands lingered a little too long on your waist or shoulders.
The athlete's bright future encompassed nothing but sports and those were her priority- only next to taking care of you, of course. So, Ryoba figured that the best course of action was giving her a harsh reminder of what happens when one deviates from their goals.
By tampering with some of the sports equipment and discreetly pointing out to the coach just how much time Sumiko was wasting on you, the gears slipped in place. Sumiko noticed just how her weights seemed heavier than before, how she struggled to get first place and how her coach would glare at her from afar.
There was only one solution Sumiko knew of; doubling down on training and ignoring all distractions. Including the girl she’d help with her push-ups and go out to drink smoothies with. Nevertheless, Ryoba made sure to take some notes in regards to your health.
Ritsuko Chikanari
Another thing Ryoba admired about you was your ability to see past social status and wealth, smoothly pulling others down to your level. Little miss Chikanari was proof of that.
While initially wounded by your casual attitude, Ritsuko resorted to her usual tactics of buying out her friendships. Her interest only doubled when you refused the fat stack of money she offered you. Now undeniably fixated on you, Ritsuko begrudgingly indulged in a peasant’s daily routine.
“Hmph! Fine, I’ll take the bus with you. Might as well bathe in mud but I’ll make an exception just this once.”
You could only take her hand in a theatrical sort of way as you boarded the bus, all while Ryoba seethed behind her newspaper disguise. Her prying eyes didn’t miss the way Ritsuko’s manicured nails ghosted over the back of your neck.
Over the course of a few days, Ritsuko shocked everyone with the sudden change in her behaviour. She began using “please” and “thank you”, attending to her cleaning duties and overall making an effort to be a better person. Turns out you had quite the positive influence on her.
Ryoba soon recognized that she’d have to send Ritsuko back to square one if she wanted to keep you in your invisible gilded cage. So, after a lot of digging, she found Ritsuko’s home address.
On her way back home one evening, she took a detour to drop an envelope in front of the Chikanari residence. A file containing photos of Ritsuko indulging in plebian activities such as wiping the windows, eating lunch with you by the fountain and getting dirt under her fingernails while planting tulips.
Needless to say, her father was outraged. He couldn’t have his daughter undermining her own status and hanging around commoners. Why, he had a reputation to maintain! So, he didn’t hesitate to pull her out of Akademi in search of an even more prestigious school.
Of course, you were confused to have another new friend vanish on you like that. And to think she had been doing so well… At least with Ryoba, you wouldn’t have to go through that whole process.
Ai Doruyashi
As any loving girlfriend would, Ryoba had noted down all of your favourite music artists and songs. She had even burnt an entire CD with songs the two of you could slow-dance to in her room. The next step was memorizing all of the lyrics…
“How are you doing, Akademi? One, two… one, two, three, four!”
Bummer. The only stereo that existed on school grounds was snatched by the budding idol, Ai Doruyashi. With electric blue hair and voice as clear as water, she twirled a broomstick around as she performed the latest radio hit to her small audience. Vibrance was all she needed to attract even more onlookers, including you.
When you timidly offered her one of your cassette tapes and asked if she could perform your favourite song, Ai’s already bubbly demeanour lit up even more. She was eager to have a fan whose music taste perfectly aligned with hers and invited you to the gym to watch her shine amongst her fellow band members.
Ryoba could only chew on her nails as what she considered to be the most romantic lyrics ever conceived turned to garbage the moment Ai’s melodic voice got a hold of them. And thus, she began digging through her stuff for dirt.
After flipping through her diary for what felt like hours, Ryoba finally found something useful. In a relatively recent entry, Ai recounted her first time singing in front of an audience, an experience that proved to be mortifying. So, why not relive that memory?
Ai had been preparing for weeks to perform her very own original song in front of the entire school. Minutes before her little concert, Ryoba snuck backstage to slip something in the lead singer’s water bottle. A tonic of sorts. And when the lights dimmed, all she had to do was lean back and watch the carnage unfold.
From the moment Ai picked up the microphone, her voice resembled the croaks of a toad rather than the crystalline flow she was known for. Muffled giggles arose from the audience, which was more than enough reason for the idol to run offstage with tears streaming down her face.
On a more positive note though, Ryoba could once again listen to your favourite song without thinking of that wannabe popstar.
Teiko Nabatasai
When Ryoba overheard you confiding in your math teacher about your struggles with equations, she saw an opportunity. Even though she wasn’t any more talented with numbers than you were, she could sweep in and offer her help as a private tutor of sorts.
But she wasn’t fast enough. Upon figuring out your problem, the teacher called over her best student, obliviously matchmaking the two of you.
“My name is Nabatasai Teiko. It would be my honour to help you out.”
Of course, Teiko didn’t stay at that. Innocent tutoring sessions soon escalated past formulas and variables. Awkwardly phrased letters appeared between the pages of your algebra textbook- a golden child’s first attempt at romance. Yet the complicated metaphors and confusing cursive were lost on you, effectively foiling her plans.
But Teiko was nothing if not a fast learner. A manic perfectionist in every aspect of her life, including love. This time, Ryoba had a real threat to deal with.
She figured the spotless student record Teiko had spent years polishing was her best target. Of course, Ryoba couldn’t possibly sabotage her perfect grades so, she aimed for her behavior chart instead.
Packs of cigarettes, dirty magazines and switchblades popped up like weeds on Teiko’s desk, bag and locker. Before little miss perfect could even get to them, Ryoba would snitch to the guidance counselor. Day by day, Teiko’s reputation would slowly sink, no matter how much she insisted on her innocence.
Push came to shove when a note mocking Saitozaki’s disappearance was found taped to an essay she submitted- handwriting meticulously traced to mimic hers. Her star pupil status was brutally shoved aside in favour of maintaining Akademi’s pristine reputation. Having a student vanish is one thing, having a bully as your top student is another. So, despite Teiko’s desperate pleas and tears, she left with an expulsion note clutched in her fist.
On the brighter side of things, this whole charade encouraged Ryoba to pay more attention during algebra. After all, you were in dire need of a replacement tutor.
Komako Fukanoshi
Like the angel you were, you had a tendency of leaving feathers behind as you walked by. Small inconsequential things such as gum wrappings, used pens and strands of your hair. Others called it littering, Ryoba called it treasure hunting.
“Excuse me, miss Y/N. Please don’t litter the classrooms.”
Komako Funakoshi, the school’s resident Yamato Nadeshiko, was “others”. And though Ryoba was annoyed that she had missed out on adding another bus ticket to her collection, you rushed to apologize and dispose of it with a cheerful smile. The interaction didn’t end there as Komako kindly offered you one of her signature strawberry-flavoured mochis.
A catastrophic domino effect followed which culminated in you running into Komako everyday. She always had something to give you, whether it be a homemade snack, a pretty flower or that one book you wanted to read. In return, you mirrored her excellent lady-like manners by carrying her books, walking her home and braiding her hair.
Komako’s plan was as clear as day. Put a ring on your finger and cage you in her arms as her wife. A domestic dream that belonged to Ryoba first.
But despite shattering her traditional image by pursuing a girl, no one could bear to turn against the kind and timid Komako. So, sabotage was on the table once again.
Ryoba’s connections finally came to use. All she had to do was approach the most chatty group of girls in her class, whisper something about stolen panties and watch the rumours spread like wildfire. After all, gossiping about the ideal Japanese lady’s juicy secrets was too tempting to pass up.
Having her whole reality come crashing down in the span of about two weeks was too much for Komako to handle. The backhanded compliments, the judgemental stares and the indiscreet giggles eventually pushed her over the edge. With bubbly tears in her eyes and her head hung low, Komako packed her stuff and left Akademi for good.
She cut contact with her classmates, including you. That whole ordeal left her with a bitter taste on her tongue, one that would make your future kisses insincere. And Ryoba could only watch from afar with a bucket of popcorn.
Chigusa Busujima
Ryoba had memorized each unique aspect of your daily routine. Particularly how you would often skip out on your cleaning duties by hiding in the hedge maze and flipping through magazines. One time, you got distracted long enough for Ryoba to sweep in and take a peek at the cover; a busty model with luscious blonde hair and a frilly bikini. Nothing unnerving.
What was unnerving was the fact that the very same model showed up to Akademi about a week later. Being amongst her biggest fans, you squeezed your way through a crowd of schoolboys to timidly ask for an autograph. Chigusa raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the rare sight of a female fan of hers.
“Y/N, is it? Tell you what, I see a lot of potential in you. You wouldn’t be against doing a photoshoot with me, would you?”
And sure enough, you were at the pool the very next morning, showing off a new line of swimsuits along with Chigusa, bathed in camera flashes and inquisitive gazes.
While Ryoba would never turn down the opportunity to see you with less clothes on, she despised the fact that you had so many eyes on you. Especially Chigusa’s. Not to mention how she would trail a hand up your thigh or innocuously fix the straps of your bra every so often.
Ryoba looked around. It wasn’t difficult to pick a lucky guy amongst the bunch of lovesick puppies that gawked at the sight before them. Over the following days, Ryoba got her wingman game on as she coached him into becoming the perfect suitor for his idol. Combed hair, expensive perfumes, smooth pick-up lines… it felt like she was practising for you.
After multiple well-coordinated dates, Chigusa’s priorities had shifted drastically. She rejected your advances in favour of reciprocating her admirer’s feelings. Her unofficial fanclub disbanded upon realizing that the object of their adoration had a love life of her own that didn’t fit their parasocial views.
Being rejected by someone you looked up to hurt a bit. But it was a small price to pay. Nevertheless, Ryoba made sure to buy some designer bikinis tailored to your measurements. Consider it an early honeymoon gift.
Sonoko Sakanoue
Dealing with all these foxes had been more taxing than Ryoba would admit. But it all paid off in the end. You were now alone and vulnerable, waiting for the prince that would come and sweep you away.
Or alternatively, the self-proclaimed detective that wouldn’t leave you alone.
Sonoko was a carbon copy of that annoying journalist. Nosy, suspicious of everyone and determined to solve Sumire’s case. And she claimed she had good reason to believe you were related to her disappearance.
At first, you didn’t like Sonoko either. She wouldn’t get out of your hair or stop buzzing you with questions. But upon realizing that she was just as concerned for your friend as you were, you warmed up to her.
The threat was now existential. With you as Sonoko and the journalist’s aide, they were bound to chalk it up to Ryoba soon enough. She had to be extremely precise with this one.
A carrot at the end of a stick was the answer. False leads that were seemingly legitimate enough to keep them busy for a while. Exploiting some of her connections with the well-dressed chainsmoking gentlemen in that shady alleyway, Ryoba was able to forge some fake evidence. Blurry photos, pieces of torn clothing and what looked like Sumire’s student ID were found near the incinerator or the bathroom she was last seen approaching.
The two vigilantes rushed to examine the evidence before handing them to the authorities. The legal process was painstakingly slow but when it was completed, the results deemed the evidence fake.
Humiliated and sternly warned by the cops, Sonoko had to take a step back and focus on her responsibilities as a student. The headmaster of Akademi also didn’t want a grown man snooping around school grounds so, the journalist was sent on his way.
And while the mystery of Sumire’s death would go on to remain unsolved, Ryoba’s overwhelming love for you was due to reach its climax…
Ryoba really hadn’t meant for it to come down to this. She had grown confident in her charisma and allure, and was gravitating towards her grandma’s manipulation tactics. But you were a walking risk, a magnet attracting obstacles in her path. So, you left her with no choice.
She had made sure to wrap soft fabrics around your wrists to avoid causing rope burn to your baby-soft skin. She picked the fuzziest towel to wedge between your clenched teeth. And you were still complaining.
Oh, well. Ryoba supposed it couldn’t be helped. Not all of her predecessors' soulmates had been willing participants at first anyway. But she had been patient for so long, dealing with each and every pest that buzzed around you. She reasoned she could wait a little longer for you to reciprocate her love.
The basement lights flickered overhead, hurried footsteps sounding from above. Ryoba raked her fingers between the roots of your hair, musing a melody to herself to drown out your muffled sobs. Surely, you’d come to appreciate your new living arrangements eventually.
