Written for the tumblr valentines exchange. ^^
The moment Tsumugi is alone with her thoughts, it hits her like a ton of bricks.
Or a box of shot-put balls, to be more precise.
She trudges through the dimly lit academy, drinking in her surroundings through eyes the colour of gravel and monotony, an arrow of doubt pierces her (one of those arrows from Maki's soon-to-be-revealed lab, for sure). Doubt at her existence. Doubt at the journey she'd made to get this far. Had it been worth it in the end?
Conflicting emotions blanket her core, not unlike a corrupted, malicious and double-dealing piece of fabric. Each thread is twisted and tangled, with no plans on loosening any time soon. Buttons of hope sew their way into the ground beneath her feet, and no matter how large and terrifying the darkness seems to be, they don't fall out. They endure each movement, each twist in the road, and it's beyond the cosplayer how it all works. Another voice tells her that hope is just a petty illusion, one that is unreachable and only attainable through fictional mediums. Hope fools the mind and defies all logic, logic which is hurled at one like a bullet from a gun.
Such is doubt.
What even is hope?
Tsumugi... doesn't think she really knows anymore.
Had she ever known to begin with?
Either way, she had been hoping to learn. Hoping that she'd be the one to show her, a final lesson to twist the final nail in a coffin that awaits the seamstress a mere five trials away.
Back to the present, Tsumugi finds herself walking, walking, walking. Where to? She doesn't know, but that's a lie.
Her head snaps up as a second figure comes into view. And the mask drizzles back down her face like a sickly sweet honey.
It's Shuichi Saihara, because of course it is.
As they cross paths, he doesn't bother meeting her eyes, choosing to remain hidden beneath the shadow of his hat. He doesn't even see her. A chill runs down her spine, and a fleeting he hates me so much dances across her mind.
He's so pathetic, says Tsumugi to Tsumugi.
Tsumugi purses her lips. She wants to agree, but knows she can't. She can't now.
She reaches her destination, plainly patterned shoes squeaking to a halt outside the not-so-plainly decorated door. Kaede's lab had been the easiest one to design, after all - there had been an 'Ultimate Composer' the season prior, so all it had really needed was a little bit of dusting down.
Sighing, Tsumugi slips into the leather stool, sliding up the piano's hood. She had no intention of playing it, of course - she'd damage her nails - and her characterisation, she supposes.
A hand ghosts the untouched Monokuma-coloured keys. Freshly-painted teal nails glint back at her, almost mockingly, as if to say you did this.
Kaede... such potentional for a protagonist. Closing her eyes, Tsumugi remembers the grovelling she'd had to do to get her the part. The strings she'd had to pull. The paycheck she'd willingly given up. The lows she had stooped to in the initial writing process. They'd eventually managed to persuade her to "Go back to basics, give the viewers a nostalgic kick up the rump!" And she had begrudgingly complied.
Danganronpa wouldn't be Danganronpa without that one shy-boy who could grow— Not too bad, she could fit that in alright. There'd always be that one student who can barely remember their own name— No biggie, Rantaro would be the best decision for that plotline. Oh, and of course, who in their right mind would be against a spicy romance plot— Astronaut and Assassin, perhaps? Typical normie suggestion, but it's not like she could say no at this stage. Fanservice is a must— Fine, fine, Iruma and Ouma could slot in there nicely. Case Three's gotta be a double whammy with a crazy twist, just like the old days— Eh, wouldn't be too hard, she supposes.
Oh, how naive she had been!
Tsumugi Shirogane had signed her livelihood, her dignity, her life off, for a single chance to see a girl take centre stage for once...
... Only to have her fucking die before the second arc had even started.
Tsumugi's eyes flutter shut. Oh, how fun she'd have been so fun to work with. To get to know. To see the absolute utter despair in her eyes when Tsumugi would finally finally tear off her bespectacled mask, and stab her puppet where it'd hurt most. The heart. Kaede would feel the knife before she'd lay her eyes on it. She'd be forced to look into the eyes of it's wielder, just two stands down from her. And Tsumugi would finally see it. Those eyes that had once been filled with determination and purpose, would be brimming with bitterness and absolute hate.
But even so, Kaede would have changed it all. She'd have changed the course of Danganronpa history. She'd have found some roundabout way of beating the tradition. She'd have rewritten the fiction that she'd confidently stated as loving so much all those months back.
A tiniest fragment within Tsumugi's jaded heart had believed, no, hoped that Kaede Akamatsu would have reignited the firey passion Tsumugi had had for Danganronpa all those years ago when she'd first joined the Team.
"I'm perfect for a killing game, I don't have any faith in humanity!"
Hair the colour of buttermilk swirls framed a face devoid of pigment, lavender eyes clouded over with a mist of hollow nothingness, with a smile that screamed "I want to win."
Tsumugi Shirogane had been instantly sold.
The audition tape plays in the cosplayer's mind on a loop, like a broken CD from the dead pianist's lab. Her stomach bubbles and pops with a feeling she can't quite place a finger on.
Despair, perhaps?
Ah yes, it was probably despair. Tsumugi has a sudden urge to race to the bathroom to relieve herself of the feeling. To dance into her special little room, throw on that blonde wig, and cackle and cry till her emotions run dry.
She'd succeeded, she'd failed, she'd succeeded, she'd failed. She'd finally, finally succeeded in channelling her inner-Junko, something she'd longed to achieve ever since she'd been a little girl, the moment her once-innocent eyes had been tainted with the fashionista's reveal and ultimate demise. But she'd also failed, she supposes.
All of her hard work, all of her endless efforts, all of her hopes to change Danganronpa into something other than what it's been for the past few decades. All of it currently lay crushed beneath a huge grand piano, painted red with blood, and stained pink with deceit.
It's so despairingly delightful.
Tsumugi bites back a shuddering sigh as the memories come flooding back. She chuckles, quietly reminding herself that someone else already has that character this time around.
Actually, speaking of...
Korekiyo. He'd been onto her both before and during the trial. Tsumugi's fists ball into her skirts. He (and Angie, much to her surprise) had been the only two to get remotely close to the 'true truth'.
She refuses be outed by mere side characters, of all people. They'd both have to go, and soon. Tsumugi makes a mental note to make the artist more appealing to 'Miss Shinguuji's' tastes further down the line.
Yeah, yeah, that should work.
Tsumugi absolutely adores the characters that are a threat, she always had done. It was only natural for her to want a whole cast full of them! It's why competent characters such as Korekiyo and Kirumi exist. It's why unpredictable characters such as Kokichi and Angie exist. It's why threats to her very existence, such as Rantaro and Kaede existed.
She loves them.
She loves their hatred.
Another sigh spills from the cosplayer's lips. The classroom is as dead as the night outside, as dead as it's owner, and the man she didn't kill.
And then, it's all empty again.
Tsumugi's empty.
She's empty.
The emptiness... is always there, but Tsumugi is a professional, she's great at hiding it, masking it with normal human emotions. No one is going to ask her why she's smiling. And in a Killing Game, no one will ask her why she's crying either. The emptiness hides everywhere, this emptiness, it floats around in hive-minded swarms, it hides between the cracks in walls. There isn't any getting away from it. The nightmares of her classmates seem to help fill it, the contents of which is mostly irrelevant. The feeling gets lighter with each corpse added to the growing pile of her former peers. Yes... that's it... Something has to go to shit, something has to be imperfect for her world to keep on spinning.
Something tragic. Imperfect. Exciting. Despair-inducing. Unplain. Or else there's no meaning to the killing game. No meaning to life. No meaning to her.
And so, in the midst of the emptiness, Tsumugi Shirogane grieves. There are no waterworks, no theatrics, no speeches of hope and friendship to pick her up off her feet.
Just an the familiar pit of emptiness Tsumugi thought would be quenched with a new kind of killing game.
No such luck.
Tsumugi grieves the loss of her precious new killing game, and with it, the loss of Kaede Akamatsu, the Ultimate Pianist.
She grieves the loss of the most treasured puppet in her collection.
In the world of Danganronpa, trusts are broken, and lies are told. For the puppets to believe in what they seek, they must know what it means to be what they don't want to be.
Being sad will make them realize how valuable being happy is.
Being weak makes them know what it means to be strong.
Being helpless is what makes them determined to be helpful. Mistakes happen tragedies occur, and then the process starts all over again.
But, by looking at the brighter sides of things, they might just be able to briefly smile one last time in life, and in the something just beyond that.
Tsumugi reapplies her makeup, sliding her glasses back up the bridge of her nose.
And she gets back to work, slipping into the classroom adjacent. Those Kubs Pads won't make themselves, after all.
The other puppets are eagerly waiting her arrival, whether they know it or not.
Whether she likes it or not.