What if Tanaka The Forbidden One Was Your Dad?

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Note: ALRIGHT Here is a 'What if ____ was your dad?' Fanfiction. Where you will be put in the place of a Dangan Ronpa character's child! So now you will be the Dark Lord's apprentice. We have high expectations for you. And by the way, Sonia will be your mother. Now, onto the story!

It's so peaceful. Just relaxing without a care in the world...

*BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP* You groan as you are rudely dragged out of your calm relaxed state by your noisy alarm. It's like the alarm clocks screaming at you and saying, "GET UP AND GO WITHSTAND ANOTHER DAY OF BULLYING!" You have been repetively bullied by a couple of classmates because you are the Ultimate Poet. Some classmates are pretty nice to you, but then there are those few who think poetry isn't meant to even be a talent.

You begrudgingly sit up and turn of the alarm as you swing your legs over the side of the bed. You stretch your arms over your head while you let out a big yawn. You begin your long, exhausting journey to your closet, which is five steps away from your bed. You change into your uniform and trudge down the stairs to be greeted by the appealing smell of breakfast. "Good morning, sweetie! Sleep well?" Your mother, the Super Highschool Level Princess, greets you with a smile as you sit down at the table. You reply with a simple nod.

You haven't yet told your parents about your bullying problem because your afraid your dad will do something crazy. And if you told your mum she would tell your dad. So you see, your dad is... well... He's great but he's also not the most normal person. When you sit down at the table, you see one of your dad's pets sitting on the table. It's one of his hamsters, the fattest one. 'How did it even get that big?' You wonder. You reach over to pat the hamster, Cham-P is it's name I think. Dad chooses the strangest yet, best names for hamsters.

Mum sits down near me and gives me a reassuring smile. Oh... Those smiles always mean she's about to bring up a possibly difficult subject... "Hey... I got a... Report. From your teacher yesterday, and she said something about you getting bullied... Why didn't you tell me this?" 'Oh no... My teacher must've seen or something...' You think. "Uh... Umm... Yeah, well... I was worried that... Dad would turn up at my school if he... found out..." You look at the floor in shame because you didn't tell anyone... But you've been living with your Dad your whole life and you still can barely predict what kind of thing he'd do in a situation like this! Mum giggled at this and then looked at me with a more serious expression, "But he'd worry if you kept this yourself forever, Y/N..." She says. You sigh and say no more throughout breakfast time.

"Yay!" You let out a little cheer as classes end for the day. You gather your things and walk out of the classroom. But your smile fades when you see the group that bully you standing near the exit. 'Isn't there any other way out?!' You rack your brain for any evidence of there being another exit, but the only other exits are for teachers and stuff, students can't use them. You meekly walk towards the doors, hoping they won't notice your there. You then hear a couple of sniggers and then a cocky voice says, "Hey look! It's the worthless 'poet'!" He says 'poet' like saying it is degrading. 

You brace yourself for the worst when of them grabs your shoulder and another takes your bag. "What do we have here?" They pull out the book I write most of my poetry ideas in and start looking through it. "Hey! Give that back!" You say in your most threatening voice, which is no where near as intimidation as the tones these bullies can muster. They all start laughing at the writing in your book, "They call this stuff a talent? You shouldn't even be in this school!" One of them says inbetween laughs. You know you shouldn't let their words get to you but... that doesn't mean their words don't hurt. You hated being told you shouldn't be attending Hope's Peak. 'But I've got a decent talent... So I have a right to got to this school... Right?' You think. 

*R-i-i-i-i-p!* The awful sound of paper being torn fills your ears. You then stare at the group with tears filling your eyes as you watch them tear your precious work to pieces. They throw the torn up book on the ground and followed by your bag. They push you onto the ground and walk away calling insults to you on their way out. Tears role down your cheeks as you pick up what's left of your book you recorded your best ideas in. You stuff the fragments of paper into your bag and power walk out of the school, wanting to retreat to the safety of your room.

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