Yandere School: The Parody

Part II

A/N: More stereotypical tomfoolery involving Yan Academy: a short compilation of ideas.

You honestly expected to be bullied relentlessly for your lack of competence. There's a lot of rivalry in an elite school such as Yan Academy, after all, and most students are disciplined high-achievers who should've eaten you alive for dragging down their reputation.

Instead, they seem to embrace your failures. The teachers almost compete for remedial classes with you, and your classmates will be at your service before you can even open your mouth. Fantastic work ethic, you tell yourself in awe. This is what it means to be among the best of the best. If only it were true.

You may not be a proper yandere (yet), but you certainly make a perfect victim. It is now an agreed-upon fact that every class demonstration will have you playing the role of the Darling. Due to the increasing tension between classmates insisting to pair up with you, there is now an official chart neatly attached on the wall, serving as guidance.

You enjoy glancing at your name, scribbled in small letters above the red, bold warnings against cheating the distribution system; while it isn't exactly a symbol of academical success, it should still count as a small victory. Right? You're getting there.

It comes as no surprise, however, that you're a skilled Darling. You'd initially received a full scholarship to the Darling Academy: the rival school designed to train students into proper victims for a yandere. You're a natural, gifted with a rare innocence and obliviousness, as the principal explained to your parents. They were shocked to hear your vehement refusal.

"Everyone in the family graduated from Yan Academy", you told them with theatric gestures. "I don't want to be the odd one out. I'll make you proud."

Your mother nearly collapsed at the sight of your passionate expression, throwing herself onto the sofa, hand gripped over the heaving chest.

"Look at our brave (Y/N)", your father exclaimed, crumbling to his knees. "Of course. We should've expected it. We'll send all documents at once, my dear."

You rush towards your classmate with a triumphant smile on your face, then pull out your phone and show him the screen.

"This is your social media profile, isn't it? I've been following the online stalking instructions and found your username."

You straighten your back and lift your chin proudly, like a subordinate awaiting the critique from their superior.

"Impressive work, (Y/N)! You're an Internet sleuth now, huh?"

The young man compliments your discovery with a chuckle. Unbeknownst to you, he'd just returned from the library, and his bag is filled to the brim with stolen documents about you. Copies of your birth certificate, your medical files, even the little identification bracelet you had to wear as a newborn in the hospital. On his way out, he stumbled upon several other students who probably had the same intention as him. Sike. 

"Let's see..." you mumble to yourself. "It says the best modern way to track your Darling is by using various locating devices."

You fiddle with the trunk of your car, eyes glued to the textbook still.

"I had no idea there's a hidden drawer here. That's a great hiding spot."

You open the little nook, and multiple AirTags cascade out into a pile. There must be at least 30 of them.

"Damn it! They've been found."

From the school roof, your classmate lowers his binoculars and clicks his tongue in annoyance. They underestimated your willingness to learn.

"Are these photos of me?"

Your classmate turns to you in horror. He completely forgot to put away his stash of hidden pictures before you came over to his place. Amateur mistake; an excruciatingly shameful affair.

You flip through the shots, smiling fondly.

"My mom has the same hobby. You should see our living room, there's an entire wall just for my childhood photos."

You open up your wallet and pluck out a small, crumpled square.

"That's her in the bushes, with the camera. She followed me on my first day to school and thought I hadn't noticed."

The young boy's gaze switches between the photo and you. Eventually, his face lights up: the moment of realization. Your parents would most likely be grateful that he's the one looking after you now.

A faint blush spreads across his cheeks as he briefly entertains the idea of calling them his in-laws. Sadly, he isn't the first one to imagine you in wedding attire. The entire school has probably considered the possibility.