I, Who Longs To Be A Dependent, Have Decided To Be Owned By A Yandere - Chapter 9

Minazuki Yui (Yandere) Dreams

I remember my kindergarten teacher, who was arrested for confining Akira-kun.

Known as “Momo-sensei” she seemed like any other kind-hearted teacher and never appeared to favor Akira-kun exclusively.

Before Akira-kun’s disappearance caused a stir, she said this to me and “my best friend.”

“You shouldn’t choose your methods when showing love.”

Momo-sensei smiled as she watched me and her tug-of-war over Akira-kun.

“There’s no limit to love. So, love that chooses its methods isn’t ‘real,’ you know?”

“What do you mean?”

My best friend, born overseas with beautiful platinum blonde hair, lightly lifted her long, gorgeous hair as she asked.

“Hey, Yui-chan, do you want to stay with Akira-kun forever?”

I nodded silently in agreement.

“I see.”

At that moment—indeed, a whirlwind of madness swirled in Momo-sensei’s eyes.

“In that case, we mustn’t let anyone take Akira-kun away, shall we? We’ll have to ‘imprison’ him, right?”

“Imprison?”

“If you truly love him.”

Momo-sensei’s smile seemed tinged with sorrow.

“You’ll understand in time.”

The teacher was arrested some time later, her critical mistake being “taking Akira-kun to the hospital when he caught a cold.”

The national news was abuzz with the kidnapping case, swarming with reporters who thrust microphones in Akira-kun’s face, coaxing him to say things like, “You were scared, weren’t you? It must have been frightening?” to elicit sympathy from viewers.

“I wasn’t scared at all, you know?”

But Akira-kun spoke with unaffected simplicity.

“Momo-sensei was really kind. Why does everyone speak ill of her? Living with her was so much fun. Her cooking was even better than my mom’s, and she gave me snacks. She never did anything cruel.”

Publicly, Akira-kun was perceived as being brainwashed, unable to speak ill of the criminal due to displaying symptoms of Stockholm Syndrome.

“…He was special.”

As a pervert with unique fetishes, Momo-sensei was banished from society and faced numerous inquiries from various people.

“No matter how much love I showed, he always seemed to receive it with a ‘casual ease.’ He laughed. I thought he would never betray me, and believed he was the only one I could spend my life with. I still think he’s the only one for me.”

The words of Sensei, featured in magazines, are deeply rooted in my heart.

“Age difference is not an issue. There’s no need to choose methods when showing love.

But—”

I could see the shimmering tears in the teacher’s eyes.

“I just wanted to be with him. For as long as possible, no matter if it’s deemed strange, I wanted to be with him.

Is it so odd to feel that way?”

And there I was, leading Akira-kun around in kindergarten.

“In the future, Akira-kun will be confined by Fii.”

“Yui will be the one to confine him.”

My best friend and I, displaying our version of “love,” were severely reprimanded by a teacher, her face pale as she exclaimed,

“You absolutely mustn’t do that!”

“Yui, you are the second wife. Fii will surely return. Don’t forget that.”

Leaving those words behind, my best friend flew overseas—and I still love him to this day.

“……What a nostalgic dream.”

Waking up, I smiled in the morning sunlight.

“Akira-kun surely doesn’t remember, does he?”

Until yesterday, he was in this house… confirming that fact, I shuddered with joy, embracing myself.

“I love you… I love Akira-kun… even if he doesn’t remember about Yui… I love, I love him…”

Pressing his smell of shirt to my nose, I hugged it tightly.

“I love you, Akira-kun… love only Yui… don’t look at other women… then, Yui will…”

In demonstrating affection, one should never limit themselves to a single method.

“With Akira-kun, I’ll do ― ‘anything’ to be together.”

Kissing the photo of him attached to my pillow, I, “Minatsuki Yui,” changed into my uniform.

“…So, who are you?”

Blocking the melancholy path to school this morning stood an unfamiliar girl.

Her ribbon loosened, revealing her chest, a miniskirt exposing her glossy, fair thighs, silver earrings dangling from her ears, and nails painted with pale blue.

“― We talked, didn’t we?”

The gal-like girl, clutching her arm, muttered with her face down.

“Eh?”

“Yesterday… we talked on the phone, right…?”

The girl, her cheeks flushed, declared loudly.

“It’s me! I’m your! Stalker!!”

“…Huh?”

Embarrassed, she covered her bright red face with her hands.