Chapter Text
Yandere didn't know where he was.
There was darkness, all around; stifling and smothering and silent. He couldn't remember much. All he could recall was pure agony coursing through every inch of his body, the ringing sound of his own crazed laughter and the wind howling in his ears.
And Dark. He remembered Dark. But where was he now?
Where was Yandere, for that matter?
Had he lost? Had Dark tossed him into his void as punishment? What if he kept him there forever, for stealing his aura away?
Yandere sucked in a tight, anxious breath. He felt the fingers of one hand sliding into his hair and quickly tore them away. No, no panicking would only make the situation worse. He needed to stay focused. He needed to keep his head. He could figure this out. First, he just had to remember. Remember...
He tried to concentrate; tried to dredge up the painful memories. All the while he wandered the darkness. Yandere couldn't see a "floor," but there was definitely something solid enough to walk on beneath his feet. There was a chill in the air, though it felt out of place from how thick the atmosphere felt in his throat and lungs. Like humidity without the heat. Was that even possible?
Yandere was dragged from his poor attempts to concentrate and rambling thoughts as he spied a familiar silhouette in the near distance. He tensed, red eyes widening with disbelief and breath catching harshly in his throat. "Denka?"
The figure didn't seem to hear him- or at least, he didn't respond. Yandere wasn't certain how long he'd been searching the darkness for something, anything, and he was not about to waste this opportunity. Without further hesitation he kicked his legs into gear and ran at the man standing only a few yards away. "Denka!" His voice rang out in the darkness, echoing harshly around them and bouncing back into his own ears. "Denka!"
Finally, the man heard him and turned around, cheeks stuffed full of peanut butter. More dripped from his chin, and the squirrels scattered about him halted what they were doing to view the sudden commotion. Instantly, King of Squirrels' soft, brown eyes widened in horror. His subjects' fur stood on end and they chuffed at Yandere angrily. In a blink, the older ego was turning on his heel and fleeing from him. He left a diminishing trail of peanut butter in his wake, and his squirrels loyally followed in his footsteps.
"Denka! Denka wait! Wait! I just... I'm not... chikusho!" Yandere hissed out a curse as King surprisingly evaded him. He knew the other was fast, but even this was pushing it. He'd been so close when King decided to run away. Lips twitching with a mixture of fury and frustration, he decided to follow the trail while it lasted. At least it was better than the neverending darkness.
It didn't take Yandere long to come across more egos. This time, it was Silver Shepherd and Ed Edgar, huddled close together and heatedly discussing something- or, well, arguing. It was always difficult to tell. Yandere beamed. "Ginrenger! Otosan! Oiiiii!"
Both egos paused in their bickering to look up. However, they immediately frowned and tensed at the sight of Yandere and started backing away. Ed's hand was drifting towards the gun on his back, and Silver looked ready to put up his dukes. (He also looked ready to soil his suit.) Neither were welcoming or friendly and it prompted Yandere to slow.
He furrowed his brows, frowned and tilted his head. "Nani...? Ginrenger? Otosan? What's wrong? Are you scared of me?" Yandere had always known they were, but usually they were more inclined to hide it. Their current actions were practically... hostile.
They didn't say anything. Just stared almost accusingly at Yandere and prepared for the risk of an ensuing fight. It was unsettling and discomfiting.
Gradually, Yandere pouted. It deepened when he took a step forward and their body language turned even more aggressive. "Ginrenger?" Silver sucked in a breath and raised his fists up a little higher, as if the action were intimidating. "Otosan?" Ed, already tense, somehow managed to become more rigid while his fingertips twitched over the barrel of his gun. Yandere's pout screwed up into an irritated scowl. "Well fine then! Don't talk to me! Bakas! Kutabare!" he snapped, stalking off away from the pair.
Surely, surely there was someone around here who would be willing to help him. Yandere meandered through the darkness, occasionally calling out "hello" and "konnichiwa" to the emptiness. It took a long time, but eventually he located two more egos. "Bancho! Ongakuka-chan!"
Like before, the egos looked up at the call. Like before, their expressions immediately shifted upon sighting Yandere coming towards them. The easygoing smiles dripped off of Bingiplier and Mark Bop's faces; the latter even paling. Bing stepped in front of his companion with furrowed brows and a flicker of defensive hostility. Behind him, Bop trembled and watched Yandere as if he were a vicious, rabid predator just waiting to rip the flesh from his bones.
Normally, Yandere would be flattered, but right now he needed someone who didn't fear him. Bing was scared too, he could tell. His protectiveness for Bop was simply stronger than his fear. Yandere had no doubts the android would attack if Yandere drew too close, so he stopped. "Listen. I just wanna talk! Why are you all being so angry all of a sudden?"
Neither of them answered, though Bop rattled off something in that gibberish language of his. Yandere would have gotten a sense of deja vu were Bop not so obviously frightened. That and the fact Bing only stuck around long enough to make sure Yandere had stopped advancing on them. Scrunching up his nose and curling his lip in what was probably meant to be an intimidating sneer, he quickly ushered a near to tears Bop away into the darkness. Bing only spared a furtive glance to make sure they weren't being followed, then blatantly proceeded to ignore Yandere's existence entirely.
Yandere felt a spike of rage and something else surge up from his gut and stomped his foot with a guttural shout. "Warugaki! Go ahead and run away then! Okubyou mono! I doubt you could have helped me anyway!" He released another shriek of frustration and stormed off.
Yandere continued encountering egos either alone or in various groups, but the end result was always the same. Silence, wary glares, defensive postures and occasionally hostility until one side eventually gave up and left the confrontation. It was always the same.
"Ikemen, Arashi-san, Kuebiko-san..." Yandere had stopped shouting or eagerly calling out his names for the egos, but it didn't change their responses. Bim Trimmer and the Jims both spared Yandere one, single glance before quickly walking in the opposite direction. "Ishasan." Dr. Iplier glanced up once from the clipboard he was studying before turning away. Somehow, Yandere knew trying to get his attention again would be pointless.
He meandered, coming across the Googs next. Surely, they would at least acknowledge him! "Ao-san!" Nothing but a cold glare. It was more than enough for Yandere to scurry back away from Blue and turn to Oxnard instead. "Midori-san?" Nothing again. Honestly, Yandere wasn't even certain if the android was looking at him, or through him. He pouted. Oliver; surely, surely Oliver would greet him. He managed an anxious smile. "Ki-iro-kun..." Yandere wasn't met with anger or disdain, but instead that ever becoming familiar flicker of fear. Oliver backed away, and when Yandere tried to follow Orville stepped into his path.
Even with burning, crimson eyes, his gaze felt cold as ice. Yandere's breath grew a bit short. He wasn't supposed to get scared. "A... Aka-chan...." Those red eyes flashed, and Yandere was peeling off in a frightened run before Orville could even complete his intimidating step forward.
His eyes burned with the threat of tears. What was going on? As if this strange void space wasn't weird enough, everyone else was acting so cruel. Fear was one thing. Defensiveness was also something Yandere could maybe understand. But such outright hostility? The aggressiveness? The icy looks and glares and endless silence? It was slowly driving him mad. He had to find someone, anyone, who would just say a single word to him.
Yandere was in such a panic he almost ran headfirst into yet another ego. He recognized the trenchcoat immediately and sucked in a breath. Host. Host, certainly Host, with all of his calm and patience and understanding, would give him a moment of his time. At the very least, he couldn't pin Yandere down with his eyes and make him feel like a disgusting insect. "Benshi-"
"The Host will have nothing to do with Yandere or his words or actions. It would be in everyone's best interest if Yandere were to leave immediately. Leave, and never return. He is no longer wanted among the fold, and is not welcome here. Please, leave the Host be. He should not even be narrating to Yandere." The Host did, indeed, grace Yandere with words. But they were nothing Yandere could ever expect or prepare for, and immediately part of him wished the Host had remained as silent as all the rest.
He clenched his jaw and his fist for a moment, glowering up at the back of Host's head with tears forming in his eyes. "Iie! I won't leave! I won't leave until someone tells me what I did so wrong! Why do you all hate me?! What did I do?! Tell me!" Yandere screamed, reaching out to grasp at Host's trenchcoat and force him around.
It was only then he realized the Host wasn't wearing his bandages. His empty, bloodied eye sockets stared down at Yandere, through Yandere, and he swore it froze every last vein in his body. When Host spoke, it was with a reverberating echo that shook those frigid veins until Yandere feared they would all shatter and leave his body full of holes. "Yandere will leave. He will leave the Host alone, and he will disappear. Forever. He is no longer wanted here. Yandere turns around..."
Yandere whimpered as he felt the power grip his body, how it forced his feet to move. "Benshi, onegai...."
"...and walks away. Far away. Until he can no longer see the Host. He does not return, nor does he look back. He says not a single word until the Host will be unable to hear it." The words were a vicious rumble, low and cruel, and Yandere's feet were moving before the Host even completed his narration. He said no more after that, and Yandere didn't need to look to know the ego had stopped paying attention to his retreating form.
He sniffled, and he walked, and he waited.
Eventually, he must have gotten far enough away, as he was given back control over his body. Yandere drew in a ragged breath and released it in a sigh of relief. Never in his existence had he been so terrified. Never before had he felt so utterly helpless. He'd managed to stop crying, but that didn't repair the damage on the inside. His lips wobbled, and he pressed onward.
When he spied a familiar head of bubblegum pink, he thought his nightmare was finally over. The Host had let him down, but Wilford was different. Yandere knew Wilford. He knew, even if the reporter forgot to show he cared sometimes, or got too busy, he was always willing to speak to Yandere. He wasn't even doing much, simply talking to himself, so approaching Wilford shouldn't be a problem at all. Yet...
Still, Yandere found himself walking on eggshells. After all that had happened, after all the reactions the other egos had given him... if Wilford decided to turn hostile as well, he could easily turn Yandere inside-out. Or switch his arms and legs around. Or pop his head off with a mere wiggle of his mustache.
Wilford hadn't stopped muttering to himself or turned to glance at Yandere, so he must not have noticed him yet. It gave Yandere time to collect his thoughts; work up the nerve to speak and get the older ego's attention.
He licked anxiously at his lips, fingers twitching at his side as he stood stock still and near terrified behind the person he'd always considered to be a mentor of sorts. He couldn't bring himself to look up, just in case Wilford decided to glare at him too. Instead, Yandere stared at Wilford's shoes and hunched his shoulders. "Sensei...." He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, hearing the nonstop rambling grow quiet. "Onii-san." The word was the softest of breaths from his lips, almost a desperate whisper.
Slowly, Wilford turned to look at Yandere. The younger ego still wasn't looking up out of fear, but he didn't feel a glare focus on him. That had to be a good sign. For several long moments, there was silence, and Yandere feared Wilford might not speak to him either. He was prepared to turn and leave, defeated, when that drawl finally started up. "What is it? I'm busy."
Hope and relief bloomed simultaneously within Yandere's chest. Eyes widening slightly and regaining their light, he lifted his head to meet Wilford's gaze. The smile that had been forming on his lips quickly flickered out. The impatient, slightly agitated tone he'd been anticipating. The harsh, frigid gaze directed at him was new and breathtaking- not in the good way. The positive emotions withered and squeezed tight around Yandere's lungs. He wilted beneath that gaze; not angry or accusatory, but absolutely unkind. There was no hint of warmth or affection or even amusement in those brown depths.
Yandere shrunk, curling in towards himself. He tried not to panic and gathered up the words he'd so painstakingly chosen. "G... gomen, onii-san-"
"Don't call me that."
"I..."
"We're not brothers. Not by blood or by anything else, you silly boy. Just tell me what you want so you can go. I'm trying to practice my bit here and you're ruining my concentration."
Yandere hadn't thought it was possible for that drawl to come off as sinister or cruel, yet there it was. He felt his insides clench and had to swallow down a rising sob. This wasn't going how he'd hoped at all. Part of him wished Wilford would just attack him, or threaten him, instead of coldly indulging him like this. "G- gomenasai. I... I just..."
"You just what? Come on now, hurry up! I've got places to kill, people to be and sights to interview."
Yandere might have laughed, were he not so close to tears. He clenched his fist at his side and trembled. "I... I just... onegai, sensei. Please. Please. Tell me what I did wrong." He sniffled, unable to hold it back. "T-tell me why everyone h-hates me...."
"Why wouldn't they hate you?"
Yandere froze, and his red eyes widened some again in shock. Had he just...? But Wilford wasn't done.
"You frighten everyone away. You're dangerous. You attack and provoke without care and you're so damn selfish, you wiley little brat. No one can stand having you around. The only reason you're here is because you're one of Mark's egos. Otherwise, you'd be out on the street."
Yandere's breath hitched. "You don't... y-you don't mean that..."
"I mean everything I say. And I mean it when I say this: you're not wanted here. No one wants you here. Go skidaddle away now, before I get impatient. You know what happens when I get impatient."
Yandere didn't need to see the flash of Wilford's gun to move. He didn't need to hear the click of its hammer being pulled into place to run away. The ego's words had done enough, and the sobs racked at his body as he ran. Tears fell rapidly but still couldn't leave his eyes fast enough to prevent blurring his vision, making him even more blind than before. Not that there was anything to see. None of the egos wanted him. None of them would spare him another glance.
He was alone. When he fell, tripping on his own feet, no one was there to ask if he was alright. No one was there to offer him a hand. He sat there on his knees, crying and wailing the emotions he'd been trying to bottle up inside. Despair, regret, confusion, anger; all of it came pouring out while he swiped at his messy face with a hand.
It felt as if he'd been crying for hours and hours when at last something in the distance caught his red, puffy eyes. Yandere sniffled, scrubbing once more at his sticky face with his sleeve in an effort to better make the shape out. He tensed a little upon realizing it was another person, but gradually the details came through. A striped shirt, slacks, a little red scarf and a cute beret atop a head of messy black hair. Yandere's aching heart skipped a few beats. He knew that ego. He knew who it was. How could he have forgotten?
The one ego who always fought through his fear to be around him. The one ego who would indulge rambles about his crush and all of Yandere's insane plans. The one ego who would sit with him for hours, let Yandere lean on him for a nap, encourage Yandere with little works of art and support. The one with a tremble in his step, a far-off look in his red eyes and a shadow larger than himself.
"Biju-chan." Yandere whispered, scarcely able to believe it. Like a flower attempting to shake off the first frost, hope dared to peek out from the ruins of his chest. He took a breath and stumbled to his feet. "Biju-chan." His steps, slow and unsteady at first, became more rapid as he drew near the younger ego. Maybe, maybe now, maybe finally... "Biju-chan!"
Artiplier turned around, his eyes a bit wide with surprise. However, rather than narrow into a glare or close-off his expression, they softened to something pleasant and happy after landing on Yandere. A tiny smile flitted to his features. "Fleur rouge."
Yandere felt like crying again. At last, at last someone who didn't hate him. Who didn't see him as a nuisance. Who wasn't scared of him- at least, to the point they wanted nothing to do with him. His own face broke into a grin and he threw his arms out as his steps broke into a fullblown run. "Biju-chan!"
Artie opened up his arms, recognizing the signs Yandere was coming in for a grand tackle of a hug. He didn't back away or dodge to the side, and Yandere crashed into him with enough force to practically bowl him over. His arms fell around Yandere's heaving, shaking shoulders like they belonged there and he released a trembling breath of his own. "Eet ees alright, fleur. I am here now."
Yandere hiccuped. "Biju-chan...."
"I am always 'ere." Artie's voice sounded strained and watery.
It gave Yandere pause, and he blinked against his friend's shoulder. "Biju-chan?" He pulled back some, just enough to see Artie's face. When he realized blood was beginning to trickle from the corners of Artie's mouth, he gasped. "Biju-chan! You're hurt! What- what happened?!" The arm around Artie's shoulders tightened.
Artie wheezed, and the gurgle in it definitely indicated there was blood in his lungs. But how? He'd been just fine a minute ago! "Yandere..."
Something warm and wet dribbled onto Yandere's hand. He heard more than felt more droplets hit his shoe. His eyes widened again, and his breath became caught up in his throat. No. He didn't want to look down, but he had to know. He had to confirm his horrifying suspicions with his own two eyes. It took every last ounce of willpower he had, but eventually his gaze fell.
Blood. Warm, wet and red was spilling rapidly onto his hand, his wrist, down onto his socks and shoes. It was already soaking heavily through Artie's striped shirt. Yandere screamed. In his bloodied hand was the handle of a familiar knife, and the blade of that knife was lodged to the hilt in Artie's chest. When did he get a knife? When did he stab...? Yandere tried to think back, realizing he'd been completely oblivious to one of his hands the entire time. Oblivious to the object it held because the knife had practically become an extension of himself.
All those fearful looks. All that defensive posturing. Was it because of this? Because he'd been wielding a knife all along? Yandere tilted his head down further to spy not only fresh blood on his uniform, but dried spots of it as well. That meant... blood. He'd been running around spotted with blood too. No wonder no one wanted anything to do with him. No wonder they all hated him.
He was a murderer.
Yandere drew in a ragged breath at the same time as Artie, his head snapping back up to look the ego in the face. He could feel his eyes beginning to burn with the onset of fresh tears. Artie was pale, more blood spilling from his mouth and eyes slipping out of focus. Yandere had done this. He must have... it must have happened when they hugged. When he... oh god.
Oh god, he'd stabbed Artie in the chest. He'd at least punctured a lung, if not his heart. There was no coming back from that. Artie was dying. Artie was dying. The one ego to show him a shred of kindness, of acceptance, and he'd killed him.
Yandere screamed again, catching Artie as he fell, carefully lowering them both to the ground. He could murder people in a heartbeat, without batting an eyelash. But an ego? Artie? No. Never. He would never... and yet there Artie was, slowly fading away in his arms. Not in the way all egos feared, but instead caught up in the throes of a swift, painful death. Yandere choked on a dry sob. "Iie..." He pulled Artie a bit closer. "Iie biju-chan..."
He could tell Artie wanted to respond, but all that came up was a cough and more blood. He shuddered in Yandere's grasp, clinging weakly to Yandere's uniform as a weak smile formed on his red stained face. His eyes were dull, and he shook his head.
"Biju-chan, iie. Iie... you can't... you c-can't die. You can't die because of me. Biju-chan!" Artie wasn't moving. He'd stopped responding, even minutely, and the grip on Yandere's shirt was slack. He screamed, he sobbed. "BIJU-CHAN! BIJU-CHAN! Artie! Artie iie, iie, you can't. You can't, Artie, y-you can't... you can't..." Tears began to drip from Yandere's eyes, falling to mix with the red. "...leave me."
Yandere slowly leaned forward, letting his forehead come to rest against Artie's. It was one of the few spots on his upper body not coated with blood, and Yandere cried against him like that for a long time. Until the skin against his arms cooled, and blood on his clothes congealed. For so long, there was nothing but the silence and his sobs and the stench of Artie's blood.
Then, out of the darkness, footsteps. Yandere's breath hitched, and at long last he forced himself away from the body laying half across his lap. His face was sticky again with the residue of his tears, and the drying blood made his clothes stiff to move around in.
From the shadows emerged one final figure. Grey skin, blackened eyes and a crisp, dark suit. His hair was meticulously swept to the left side of his face, and his hands were primly clasped behind his back. He walked, undisturbed by the blood or the body or Yandere's emotional state, until his shiny black shoes reached the very edge of the puddle that had formed. He stared down at in with a glimmer of distaste for a moment, before those soulless eyes shifted to Yandere.
Yandere tensed, metaphorical hackles rising and back arching like a cat. He pulled Artie's corpse closer to his chest protectively and bared his teeth at Dark with all the fury he had left. It wasn't much, and they both knew it. Dark probably would have looked amused, if he showed that much emotion.
"So sorry. Am I... interrupting something?" That smooth voice rolled down Yandere's spine like cold oil and he shivered. However, he couldn't quite find his voice after everything, and Dark took his silence as permission to continue. "So you've stabbed him. Again. I wonder, will the others be quite so eager to pin it on me? Or will they realize the true threat you are. The monster you have become. This grave you have dug for yourself is so.. deep.. Yandere." Dark's eyes, though hard as stone and emotionless, still managed to glitter in the darkness.
Yandere's fingers clenched into Artie's body. He snarled, "It was an accident! I didn't mean to kill him! I'm not a monster, I would never-"
"Never what, Yandere? Stab one of your closest friends in cold blood? I suppose that's not your knife still lodged in his chest, then, is it?"
Yandere flinched, unable to stop himself from sparing the weapon a glance. He'd been so buried in his grief he'd forgotten to remove it. Not that it would have helped matters. Artie was doomed from the start. "I... I didn't mean..."
"You didn't mean to. Oh, but of course not, Yandere. Who ever means to murder a friend? I'm certain this is all just a big misunderstanding..." Yandere looked up at Dark once more, eyes laden with heavy bags and puffy redness. Dark provided zero solace for those exhausted eyes. "Yet, Artiplier is still dead. You can see that much for yourself. There's no taking it back. No fixing this... misunderstanding. It truly is unfortunate..."
Yandere's breath hitched again; the risk of a fresh sob. He stared down at Artie's prone, dead form with quivering lips. "Why are you doing this? Why are you here? J-just leave me be... go away, yami. I can torture myself enough without your help...." The words were thick with emotion and the aftermath of his tears, but Dark wasn't leaving.
"Perhaps... I could give you another chance. The opportunity to do things right. What do you say, Yandere? Care to take me up on my offer?"
Furious indignation sparked to life in Yandere's chest, and his head snapped back up to focus a glare on Dark. Except- Dark was no longer present. A blink, and Yandere was no longer on his knees. Artie's body was gone, but all of the blood remained. Frantic and confused, Yandere looked wildly around, attempting to put the pieces together. Was he going insane? Was Dark making him lose his mind? He hadn't accepted the offer, he hadn't-
"Fleur rouge."
Yandere's spine went rigid. Slowly, he turned to look towards the source of that soft voice. His lungs leaped up into his throat. "Bi... biju-chan...."
Artie smiled, clean of blood and free of injury. The color was back in his cheeks; the light in his red eyes. He opened his arms. "Fleur."
"Biju-chan." Yandere hesitated, clearly recalling the consequences of rushing in the last time. Still, he was drawn to those arms; to that embrace. He fell into it, into Artie, like a lost child.
"I am 'ere."
Blood.
"I am always 'ere."
Blood.
There was blood, and Artie was falling, and Yandere was catching him yet again. "Iie!" Not again. Not like this. Not again. "Iie, biju-chan!" He watched that renewed light fade once more, felt the breaths leave Artie's body and not return. He sobbed, and a voice appeared from the darkness.
"Care to try again?"
Refusal perched on the tip of Yandere's tongue, but the thought of losing his closest friend forever burned in his throat and in his chest. It made his jaw slow, and just like that the scenario was reset.
Artie, standing with arms wide open and the gentlest of smiles on his face. "Fleur."
Yandere, stood before him with clothes soaked in blood and knife gripped in hand. "Iie."
Dark, lying in wait, eager to show once Yandere was sitting broken and desperate on the floor with his corpse in hand. "Again."
And so they went, again and again, until all Yandere could smell was blood, and all Yandere could see was red.