"Yandere is a portmanteau of two Japanese words. The first is yanderu, which means "to be sick," and the second is deredere, used here for "lovestruck." A yandere is often sweet, caring, and innocent before switching into someone who displays an ext...
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"It wasn't me!" New Zealand exclaimed as he was hauled into the back seat of the police car. "My family means the world to me! Why would I ever kill one of them?"
Sobbing into America's shoulder, I watched as the youngest sibling was driven away by the officials. Canada stood beside his older brother with his arms folded, his face full of disappointment and sadness. He had been crying for a long time after finding Australia's dead body, an hour to be precise.
"Our little baby..." France sniffled. "Why would New Zealand do such a horrific thing?"
Rubbing my back, America gently ushered me inside, whispering sayings and phrases to attempt and cheer me up. Canada, Great Britain and France remained outside, still mourning over the death of their second youngest son and questioning themselves, asking what caused New Zealand to do the horrific action he did.
Sitting me down on the couch, America sat down beside me. I dug my face deeper into his shoulder and continued to sob. He sighed and pulled me close, wiping a tear off his cheek with the palm of his hand.
"A-Australia...h-he's gone!" I cried. "Wh-Why!? Why would he-?"
I let out another loud and ugly cry.
"Shhhh..." America continued to rub my back. "W-We'll get through this tragedy together, (Y/N)."
"My b-boyfriend is d-dead!" I used America as a punching bag and punched the upper part of his chest. He didn't react at all. "I hate him! I despise N-New Zealand so much!"
"He will pay for what he did, don't you worry now." America wiped more tears off his face, somehow maintaining his voice steadily without breaking into a cry.
France and Great Britain walked past us both, with France crying uncontrollably as Great Britain carried his wife up the stairs bridal style and into their bedroom.
Canada approached us once their door had shut, plopping himself down upon the couch behind me. I heard him sniffling, even throwing his phone across the room out of pure anger and stress.
"(Y/N), may you please let go?" America asked. "I have to go help my parents upstairs."
Releasing him, I watch as he leaves and heads upstairs. Once he was gone, I wiped my face and leaned back against Canada. He jolted, not expecting the sudden action. A small giggle escaped through my lips, but then the frown immediately returned and the wave of sadness too.
Placing his hand on my chest, the country sighed. "I'm sorry."
I kept silent.
"Australia was...a great sibling." He started. "His passion for animals, the adventures he'd take us on, the joyfulness and positive energy he spread...I miss him..."
"Do...Do you know why?" I asked, tilting my head up to look at him.
"Why he murdered Aussie?" Canada's pupils moved up to stare at the ceiling. "I-I don't know. He never had a grudge against him, at least, we thought so."
Another loud cry burst out through my lips.
Grabbing me, Canada lay me across his lap and embraced me, allowing me to sob into his chest. For the next couple of minutes, all that could be heard were my muffled cries. Canada patted my back and whispered sweet nothings into my ear.
I slowly pulled away, my eyes landing on his, then onto his wicked and evil grin. I gasped and suddenly felt a bad aura surrounding Canada. I purposely made myself fall onto the floor and used my legs and arms to drag myself back along the floor.
He chuckled and stood up, grabbing his axe, which was standing next to where he stood beside the couch.
"Why are you grinning like that?" I was extremely confused and scared.
I thought about it for a moment.
As I stared up at Canada, within my mind and imagination, an image popped up of Canada covered in blood as he held his bloody axe.
"You...you killed him..." I tried to yell, but my voice would not function. "It wasn't...New Zealand."
"Right, sweetheart." He cackled lightly. "Do you want to know why I killed him?"
"W-Why did you-"
"Because he took you away from me!" He stomped his foot forward. I was taken aback. "You belong with me, not that disgusting brat for a sibling! I deserve your love, not him!"
"You...you murder!" My voice cracked. "You only pretended! You framed your own brother!"
"Yes, yes I did and I don't regret any of it!" He admitted. "Now, all I have now to get rid of is America and my parents."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a device with a red button in the middle.
"They are so predictable." He pressed the button with a smirk, and a second later, an explosion could be heard coming from Great Britain and France's room.
I whipped around as my eyes widened, gathering the strength to get up onto my feet and run upstairs, but Canada dropped his axe and covered my mouth with one hand, and held my waist with the other.
"You aren't going anywhere." He glared at me. "You are coming with me."
Violently tossing me onto the couch, I yelped and landed on the pillows. I tried sitting up and pushed the pillows aside only to see Canada lifting his axe up and taking a swing, the handle smacking me on the side of my head, knocking me out.
