Chapter Text
NOW CASTING FOR DANGANRONPA 54
APPLICANTS WANTED
Are YOU a diehard Danganronpa fan? Do YOU have what it takes to participate in the deadliest killing game on Earth? Your time is now! Audition for the upcoming Danganronpa 54*, and stand a chance to join the latest installment of the world-renown killing game franchise!
(*NAME NOT FINALISED)
Applicants will participate in an audition no longer than 2 minutes about why they want to be cast. Shortlisted applicants will be contacted at a later date.
DATE: 14th AUGUST 20XX — 16th AUGUST 20XX
TIME: 4:00PM — 10:00PM
LOCATION: TEAM DANGANRONPA HEADQUARTERS
REQUIREMENTS:
- Applicants must be between the age of 14 and 20.
- Applicants must be registered in a high school in Japan AND/OR hold Japanese citizenship.
- Applicants must consent to the possible removal of identity and memories to fit the characters of the Danganronpa universe.
- In the event of long queues, applicants who are unable to audition will be given a ticket for the following day, allowing them to bypass the queue.
FOOD AND BEVERAGES WILL NOT BE PROVIDED AT THE AUDITION. TEAM DANGANRONPA WILL NOT BE RESPONSIBLE FOR ANY INJURIES OR HEALTH PROBLEMS CAUSED BY INADEQUATE PREPARATION (IE: FAILING TO EAT/DRINK AND COLLAPSING).
Will you shine like the brightest hope, defeating the deathly thralls of despair? Or will you succumb to the shadows, and let despair take over? There’s only one way to find out: JOIN DANGANRONPA TODAY!
COPYRIGHT TEAM DANGANRONPA, 20XX
Her breathing hitched.
The girl’s grip on the newspaper tightened, the pages wrinkling and crumbling in her hands. She wanted so badly to look away and yet, she couldn’t bear to tear her eyes away from the bold text in front of her. A casting call for the latest installment in the Danganronpa franchise, accompanied by various illustrations of smiling Monokumas decked out in filming gear.
To a hardcore fan of the series, the casting call would have ignited a fire in their chest. They would have gasped and screamed over the possibility of participating in their favourite franchise. They would have daydreamed about becoming a victim, or even the blackened, executed in a bloody masterpiece of gore and despair. They would have poured through the requirements, memorising them to heart before checking their schedule on their phone, making sure they were free on the day of the audition.
Maybe once, a long time ago, she was that nameless person, noting down the date in her dainty planner and counting down the days in her head.
Now, however, the casting call simply filled Maki Harukawa with the looming feeling of dread and doom.
Gritting her teeth, she crumpled the insulting newsletter into a paper ball before flinging it with all her might. She watched it fly through the air and ricochet off the classy wallpaper of the hotel room before coming to a stop somewhere on the carpeted floor.
Maki did not bother to walk over and pick it up. Instead, she continued to bury herself in the queen-sized bed, her heart pounding rapidly. The bedsheets and blankets were an absolute mess, but Maki hadn’t bothered to leave the room since she arrived there a week before. She refused housekeeping from entering after she first stepped into the room, and the only time she ever used the phone was to ask the staff to deliver lunch or dinner to her place.
Perhaps it was uncharacteristic of her to act this way — like a childish brat throwing a tantrum, rejecting anyone and everyone who tried to interact with her. But coming out of the 53rd killing game believing that she had sacrificed herself for her friends to live, only to find out the truth of her situation—
Maki buried herself further below her blankets, fingers clenched with rage and eyes blinking furiously. And she laid there in a smothering, overwhelming silence for what felt like hours and hours, suppressing the fiery anger that threatened to burn her from the inside out.
When she finally passed out, falling into a restless sleep, the only thing left was a dull ache in her chest, and the lingering feeling of misery.
The reality of the situation was this:
Maki Harukawa and Keebo had sacrificed their lives in the final trial of their killing game, believing that their fellow survivors would be able to escape and live in peace with their decision.
Tsumugi Shirogane— no, the mastermind, had accepted the deal with a sly smile and a glint in her eyes, walking to her death with no regrets.
Shuichi Saihara and Himiko Yumeno were forced to stare at Maki and Keebo with disbelief in their eyes and their mouths twisted into screams as the duo stepped in sync to the mastermind, only twisting their heads back to glance over their shoulders one last time.
But where the mastermind died with pride and joy, Maki and Keebo died with uncertainty in their minds and anxiety pulsing through their veins. Where the mastermind accepted her death with swiftness, the duo hesitated before the execution eventually smashed them to nothing but blood, guts, and tiny, robotic parts.
And then they woke up.
The entire killing game, fresh and real and a living nightmare in Maki’s mind, turned out to be nothing but a virtual reality simulation, all for the obsessive audience’s entertainment.
And as they lifted her out of the pods, they told her the truth of her punishment.
“You’ll be participating in the next season of Danganronpa!” A woman in a lab coat said cheerily as she helped Maki exit her pod, her legs weak and collapsing with disuse. “Isn’t that wonderful?”
Maki’s knees finally buckled, collapsing to the floor as loud shouts erupted from around her. She was barely aware of the voices asking her questions, of the people touching her and lifting her into a chair, brushing hands over her bruised knees to make sure she was alright.
All that she could hear was the voice of the scientist in her mind, echoing the words that sealed her fate over and over again.
Maki Harukawa and Keebo were announced just three days later to be participating on the next season of Danganronpa, slated for an unknown release date. And as netizens exploded with excitement and citizens babbled to each other on the streets and trains, Shuichi Saihara and Himiko Yumeno could only stare at the news article on the laptop they had loaned in dead silence, eyes wide and hands shaking.
The reality of the situation was this:
Shuichi Saihara realised the connection between Rantaro Amami’s presence in the 53rd killing game and the two survivors' sacrifice a little too late.
And as Himiko stumbled off the bed, the bathroom door slamming shut to the sound of retching and bile, he could only stare at the page, the cries and screams of his failures echoing through his head in a horrific cacophony.
The first time Maki was contacted by Team Danganronpa was a little over a week into her isolation in her provided hotel room. When the phone rang, the sudden sound of obnoxious music flooding the air had jolted her out of her concentration, her book falling out of her hands. Biting her lips, she slid off the mattress, stalking over and answering.
“Ah, Maki Harukawa!” An unfamiliar voice flooded through the phone, rough and crackly through the line. In an instant, Maki could feel her grip on the device grow tighter, her jaw clenching. “This is the director of Team Danganronpa here. I was hoping to discuss some important things with you. Namely your role in the upcoming Danganronpa 54. After all, you did participate in V3, so you’ll be needing a new talent and a survivor’s perk. Are you free—”
The call cut out. Maki stared at the phone in her hand, her finger resting on the ‘end call’ button. In less than a minute, the phone was blaring to life again, the ringtone grating to her ears.
In the end, Maki had smashed the phone to bits, the jarring ringtone sputtering out to silence as she stamped down hard on the device.
It was only later that evening, when the sun was setting and her stomach growled, that she realised she had just destroyed her only way of obtaining food, unable to call the staff and unwilling to leave her room. Ultimately, Maki had simply shrugged it off and gone to sleep hungry, her refusal to communicate with anybody involved in the creation of that horrific death game outweighing her need to eat.
It took three days before several people finally showed up at her door, most likely to question her about her silence and refusal to answer the phone. Maki had glared at the door as it opened, a small spike of fury driving her to sit up and swing her legs over the edge, only to collapse instead.
The only thing that stopped her from starving herself again was the director, who stared coldly at her after she had woken up in a daze. “You do realise that the fans are eager to watch you return, right?”
“And what about it?” Maki bit out, hating the way her voice sounded shaky and hoarse and weak.
He sighed at her, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I suppose if you die before the season begins, we’ll have no choice but to bring in one of the other two.”
She froze, blood turning to ice. “You wouldn’t. You—”
“Two survivors were sacrificed with the intentions of joining the next game. We already have everything set up for you to be the Ultimate Survivor, while Keebo will reprise his role as the audience’s camera.” The director met her gaze. “You dying would simply force us to get either Shuichi or Himiko to replace you.”
Maki sat upright, blinking furiously as her head spun and sparks flew across her eyes. “Don’t you dare bring them into this,” she hissed, voice coming out as nothing more than a faint croak. “They don’t— Nngh—”
“You should eat something.” The director gestured at the bedside table, and Maki twisted her head to glance at it. There was a bowl of something steaming nestled on a metal tray, accompanied by a bottle of water. “You didn’t eat for three days.” Shaking his head, the director paced around the room. “It seems we underestimated how affected you would be by the prospect of joining another killing game. I’ll have to contact the medical staff to find out how this flew under their radar.”
“Don’t bother.” The bowl was filled with a creamy stew that made her stomach growl with a painful pang. Maki lifted the tray into her lap. “You’ll get rid of my memories in the game. There’s no point.”
The director frowned, rubbing his chin. “Even so—”
Maki bit back a sigh, spoon hovering above the stew. “I’m not going to talk to anyone you send. Just—” She faltered, before continuing, voice strained. “Keep Shuichi and Himiko out of this. I’ll play the stupid game.”
She could feel the director’s frigid gaze piercing her skin as she forced herself to eat some of the stew, slowly wiping away the hunger that had gnawed at her for the last few days. Eventually, she heard him speak. “In that case, I won’t.”
A pause. She scooped up a spoonful of stew.
“Did you destroy the telephone?”
Another spoonful of stew. “It was annoying.”
“You could have simply answered my calls.”
Maki didn’t reply. The bowl of stew grew smaller and smaller. Eventually, the director spoke again. “In any case, I’ll avoid calling you from now on, Maki. And I’ll notify the staff too. But we’ll still need to contact you for other things. I assume we’ll just have to come to you directly instead, then?”
Once again, Maki didn’t reply. By the time the bowl of stew was empty, the tray abandoned on her bedside table, the door to her room had been opened and shut, and there was a new telephone sitting on the coffee table across the room.
True to the director’s words, nobody called her ever again, and on the rare occasions she did receive a call, Maki simply didn’t answer it. She spent her days wandering around her room, finding anything to do whenever she wasn’t forced to speak with some stranger wearing a Team Danganronpa pin. Anything was better than stepping outside, where she’d be forced to reckon with members of staff who would treat her like a long-lost friend, or sometimes even clingy fans who would recognise Maki Harukawa, the Ultimate Assassin. Even spending hours in silence watching the sun set was better than being forced to interact with someone she couldn’t trust.
AUDITIONS CLOSED FOR DANGANRONPA 54, SHORTLISTED CANDIDATES TO BE CONTACTED
INTERVIEW WITH TEAM DANGANRONPA DIRECTOR, “54 TO BE DIFFERENT FROM V3”
FANS VOTE ON WHAT THEY WANT TO SEE NEXT
It was a few days after auditions had closed when Maki heard a knock on her door.
She sat up, staring at the wooden door in silence until the sound of knocking echoed through the room again. Biting her lips, she leaned back against the bedrest slowly, eyes flitting back to the drawing she was working on. If someone truly had to talk to her about something important, they’d have let themself in already. After all, the starvation incident left several important members of staff with card keys to her room.
No, Maki decided, when the person knocked again, she wasn’t going to answer—
“Maki?”
The sound of a very familiar voice sent Maki jumping out of bed, drawing forgotten and abandoned in the sprawl of bedsheets. Skidding to a halt, she twisted the door knob in record time, and opened it to see one Shuichi Saihara, staring at her with wide eyes.
Everything seemed to stop at that very moment, as Maki stared across at one of the only people she was certain she could trust, after weeks of stubbornly isolating herself from strangers she couldn’t confide in. But now, as she stared at Shuichi, who stared back at her, hands resting in the pockets of his black hoodie, a cap on his head, she felt her shoulders sag with relief.
“Shuichi,” Maki breathed, before straightening up. “I—what are you doing here?”
Shuichi opened his mouth before faltering, glancing around the corridor. Turning back to Maki, he asked, “Could we talk inside?”
Maki nodded instantly, stepping aside to let Shuichi enter. Kicking the door shut behind her, Maki headed back to the bed, sitting on it as the detective — was he still a detective? — glanced around the room.
“Sorry about the mess,” Maki eventually said. “I wasn’t expecting anyone over. Or at least, not anyone I knew.”
Shuichi shook his head quickly. “No— the mess is fine! I’m not bothered by it, really.” Walking over to Maki, he sat at the edge of her bed, glancing over at the girl. “I guess I’m just glad to see you. It’s been a while.”
“Why are you acting so awkward?” Maki asked, a lightness to her voice as Shuichi spluttered and stammered. “And what’s with the cap?”
Shuichi swore, before pulling it off, turning it over in his hands. “I forgot I was wearing that, to be honest. It’s mostly to avoid… well—”
“Being mobbed by fans?” Maki’s voice took on a bitter tone as Shuichi nodded. She shook her head. “I expected as much. Their obsession over the killing games is disgusting.”
“I won’t disagree with that,” Shuichi sighed, leaning back slightly. He fiddled with the cap, thumbs brushing over the brim. “Ever since Himiko and I got released, we’ve had to wear disguises whenever we go out. We’ve actually had to move once because someone got ahold of our address.”
Maki’s eyes narrowed, a cold anger surging to life within her veins. “That— I’ll kill them.”
Shuichi startled at that, before letting out a nervous laugh. “No, uh— don’t. Please. I appreciate the sentiment, but don’t.”
“I—” Maki’s voice died in her throat. A new thought had crossed her mind, and she fumbled for words that she struggled to string together. It didn’t help that Shuichi was staring at her with a curious yet concerned look, eyebrows furrowed. Eventually, Maki shook her head. “Nevermind.”
“If it’s something that’s bothering you though…” Shuichi hesitated, before pressing on. “You can talk to me about it. Ah, but please don't feel pressured to. I just wondered if it’d help.”
“You’re good. It’s just—” Staring at the side, Maki’s gaze fixed on the massive windows. A few birds flew past — large, grey pigeons that had no business being as high up as they were. The duo sat in silence, Shuichi patiently waiting until Maki turned back, biting back a sigh. Falling backwards into the pile of pillows pressed up against the bedrest, she shrugged. “I’m not an assassin. But I still feel like I am.”
“I know what you mean,” Shuichi replied, giving her a faint smile. “It’s hard sometimes, isn’t it? When you remember that you’re not who you thought you were… But those memories still exist, don’t they?”
“For now,” Maki muttered, the words slipping out of her mouth before she could stop herself. Immediately, she felt her cheeks burn as Shuichi winced, face contorting into a pained look. “I— Forget I said that.”
Shuichi paused for a moment, before slowly shaking his head. “I don’t think I can.”
Maki narrowed her eyes. “Excuse me?”
“Well, this is clearly bothering you, isn’t it?” Shuichi explained. Though his voice was a little shaky, a little uncertain, he continued on. Gone was the weak and shy detective created from the false memories of the 53rd killing game. Instead, there was someone stronger, someone who pressed on with boldness rather than cowering away. Reaching out to grab her hand, Shuichi gave her a determined look. “If you really don’t want to talk about it, then I’ll stop. But I’m here for you, okay Maki?”
And then she broke.
“I’m terrified,” she whispered, her voice cold and low. The hand holding her own squeezed tightly, reassuringly, grounding her as her thoughts and emotions flew into a destructive frenzy. “I thought I could bear the idea of sacrifice because I didn’t want you or Himiko to experience that again. And I—” Stumbling over her words, Maki could feel something drip down her cheeks. “I wouldn’t change it,” she blurted out. “Because I don’t want you guys to do that again—”
“Maki.” As she choked back a sob, her free hand reaching up to wipe at her face, she could feel a warm presence settling next to her. Shuichi had abandoned holding her hand in favour of wrapping an arm around her, and though the feeling was strange and foreign, it felt… safe.
“I’m going to lose my memories again,” Maki breathed. “I won’t remember you, or Himiko, or K-Kaito— I’m not even going to remember Keebo—”
The arm around her squeezed tightly and distantly, she could hear Shuichi telling her to breathe. Rubbing at her face, Maki shook her head, hands clenching into fists. “I won’t even be the Ultimate Assassin anymore,” she admitted, letting out a hollow laugh. “I mean I never was, but—” Exhaling heavily, she leaned into Shuichi, squeezing her eyes shut. “I don’t even know who I am anymore.”
As she stifled her sobs, choking back her emotions, she felt Shuichi rub her arm reassuringly. Taking a deep breath, Maki shifted away before glancing at Shuichi, who gave her a sad smile. “I know this won’t help much, but you’ll still be my friend, Maki.”
At those words, Maki bit her lips, holding back tears before she broke down a second time. “Even though I’ll forget you?”
“I’ll help you remember. I’ll make sure of it.”
“You’re an idiot,” Maki replied, but she was smiling now. A small, grim one, but a smile nonetheless. “And I… I appreciate it.”
They sat in silence together as Maki’s breathing slowed down, her occasional hiccups coming to a halt. Once she felt like she was able to speak without the risk of breaking down into tears, Maki spoke, voice steady. “How’s Himiko?”
“She’s doing fine. Or as fine as we can be, considering all this,” Shuichi sighed, face falling. He drummed his fingers against the bed, an incessant tapping that spoke volume about his worries. “We’re good on money though, Team Danganronpa paid us a pretty large sum for participating in the killing game. It’s more about you, actually.”
Maki blinked. “The 54th game?”
Shuichi nodded. “She’s worried. And I don’t really blame her,” he added, shying away from Maki’s gaze. His shoulders slumped. “There’s not much we can do. Even getting here was kind of a struggle—”
“Was it?” Maki interrupted, tilting her head to one side. Her hair draped over her shoulders, messy and tangled in clumps. She narrowed her eyes as a sudden thought flashed through her mind. “Wait. Don’t tell me they didn’t let you two—”
“They didn’t let us see you originally,” Shuichi said, confirming Maki’s suspicions. “Himiko was pretty upset by that. She wanted to talk to you one more time before the next season began.”
“Then how did you get here?”
“I—ah, kept trying.”
Maki stared. “You… kept trying?”
“I think the staff got sick of me at some point and just told me to come up here and talk to you,” Shuichi said sheepishly. “But I don’t regret it. It was a little nerve-wracking, but then I remembered that they were, well, behind all of it.”
“I am glad that you’re here though.” The admission came easier than she thought it would, but then again, Maki had changed a lot since the start of the killing game. Letting out a bitter laugh, Maki fell backwards, laying down on the bed. “At least I’ll get to see one person before I forget about everything.”
Shuichi winced, glancing down at her. “That may be true, but—”
“That’s the reality here.” Maki stared up at the ceiling. “I’m going to forget all of it.”
“And I’ll help you. In any way I can.”
Shuichi’s enthusiasm was so fiery, filled with determination. And though the only thing she could feel was reluctant resignation and another round of tears threatening to break her composure, Maki sat up, nudging Shuichi with her elbow. “I’ll look forward to it.”
Shuichi left hours later when the sun dipped far beneath the horizon and the sky began to fill with stars. Maki would have asked him to stay if she could, but the arrival of an actual staff member at her door signalled for Shuichi to go.
She remembered shooting upwards as the door clicked open and another stranger looked in, telling her friend that he had to leave. She remembered feeling cold fury burn in her veins until Shuichi grabbed her arm and pulled her into a tight hug, defusing the feeling of vengeance and rage that boiled in Maki’s chest.
As he pulled away, he gave her another determined look, eyes glinting and jaw set. “I swear, Maki. I’ll help you in any way possible.”
And Maki, resigned as she was to her fate, simply gave him a bitter smile. “I’ll hold you to it.”
She remembered watching the door shut behind Shuichi, leaving her in a room of silence that felt a lot emptier than it did earlier that morning. And as she leaned back into her bed in the wee hours of the night, staring at the ceiling in the darkened room, she realised something with a jolt.
She forgot to ask Shuichi about Kaito.
She forgot to ask Shuichi about Kaito.
Burying her face in her pillows, Maki choked back her emotions until she passed out from exhaustion into a restless night of bittersweet dreams.
DANGANRONPA 54 CAST CONFIRMED, TEAM DANGANRONPA ANNOUNCES
EXCLUSIVE FIRST LOOK AT DANGANRONPA 54’S CAST: NAMES AND TALENTS
SEASON NAME AND MORE CAST DETAILS TO COME LATER, SAYS TEAM DANGANRONPA DIRECTOR
She knew that the time was drawing closer and closer, with more and more staff members barging into her room at later times of the day.
She knew her precious time in the hotel room, unbothered and alone, was slipping by her like sand through her fingers, the clock counting down to her doom ticking at a steady pace.
She knew that the next killing game would be arriving sooner rather than later when the staff members pressed her incessantly about her character and her role in the game, badgering her about what her survivor’s perk would be.
Maki stared at the person across from her incredulously. “Wait. I get to choose the survivor’s perk?”
“Typically, we don’t do this,” the person — either a writer or a producer or someone else, Maki didn’t know and didn’t care — explained. “But we’re being a bit more flexible with the 54th season, especially after everything went off the rails in V3.”
Maki sat in silence, barely moving. The staff member across from her fidgeted nervously before stammering. “U-uhm, well, if you have no ideas, then I’m sure we can work with you to figure something out, or choose it for you—”
“No.” The person jolted at that. Maki stared at them with her signature death glare, watching them shrink into themself. “I’ll choose my survivor’s perk. I know what I want.”
“O-oh, well that’s a relief then!” She watched as the staff member fiddled with their tablet, before giving her a beaming smile that stretched a little too wide and seemed a little too forced. “In that case, please tell me about it. Even if we allow you free range, we still have to restrict some options if they seem a little too overpowered or excessive…”
Regardless, most of her meetings were settled, as much as she hated it. The only things that were left were costume design and a few more meetings to work out her character.
If there was one good thing that came out of the 53rd killing game, it was that after the fifth chapter had gone off the rails into a trainwreck and the sixth chapter ended up almost killing the franchise with its revelations about the cast and their fabricated memories, there was more flexibility with the upcoming season. Now, Maki actually had a say in who she was going to be, which was a surprising comfort to her when she realised she could retain key parts of who she was, rather than be rewritten entirely.
It was a small comfort in the grand scheme of things, but a comfort nonetheless.
The sound of the door opening dragged Maki out of her thoughts. A staff member stepped into the room. “Apologies for interrupting you, but it’s time for the costume fitting.”
If Maki could, she would have preferred to simply reprise her clothes from the 53rd season, but much to her dismay, that wasn’t an option. As she followed the staff member out of the room in a stony silence, her thoughts drifted back to one of the many meetings she had held with various members of Team Danganronpa.
“Unfortunately, you’ll still need to take on a new look for the newest season,” the poor staff member explained, somehow still maintaining her composure as Maki glared daggers. “I understand your attachment to your design from V3, but the audience will be expecting an entirely new look to fit with your new talent.”
As silence dragged out in the room, Maki watched through narrowed eyes as the staff member squirmed before sighing. “We will be giving you more creative control over your outfit though. There’ll have to be a few adjustments if we don’t think it’s suitable, but otherwise, there should be no issue.”
Maki didn’t reply. Instead, she sat in silence until the staff member stood up with shaky legs and announced that she would leave.
The wavy designs of the carpeted floor made way for polished marble as Maki was led through the grandiose hotel, travelling down the lifts to a different floor. Eventually, she was led to a stop outside a function room, where the staff member gestured for her to go inside.
As she stepped forward to push open the heavy doors, Maki’s mind wandered back to the first time she had to attend a meeting with Team Danganronpa after the dreadful three-days starvation incident. She had outright refused to step foot outside of the hotel, refused to step back into the headquarters of the company running the franchise she hated with every fiber of her being. And she refused to budge on it.
And so, a compromise was made. Maki would attend whatever mandatory meeting she had to attend, and the staff would meet her in the hotel instead.
As the door swung open, Maki took a single step inside, and then stopped.
She wasn’t sure what she was expecting. Probably just another meeting with another staff member with a name she’d refuse to remember. A few hours of choking back angry glares and scathing insults until she could storm out and return back to the sanctuary of her room.
She certainly wasn’t expecting to see Tsumugi fucking Shirogane standing in the middle of the function room, frozen in place, dropping the bolts of fabric she was carrying. There was a loud thud as the material thumped against the marble floor, but neither party paid it any mind.
Maki stood in place, staring in utter disbelief until she felt a small push against her shoulder. Stumbling into the room, she heard the door slam shut behind her, but she barely noticed it.
And then the rage hit.
“You,” Maki breathed, shoulders shaking as she stared down the girl across from her. Animosity swelled up within her, bubbling through her veins and threatening to choke her with a swirling vortex of emotions. Clenching her fingers, she could feel her nails dig into her palm, a stab of pain that she didn’t pay any attention to.
Where anybody else would have cowarded in the face of Maki’s fury, Tsumugi instead met her gaze coolly, her lips pursed. “Hello, Maki. I would say that it’s nice to see you again, but…” Trailing off, the blue-haired girl kneeled down to pick up the scattered bolts of fabric, piling them into her arms. As she stood up, she flashed Maki a wry smile. “That would be a lie, wouldn’t it?”
“Why are you here?” Maki spat, hands trembling. Striding forward, she jabbed her finger at Tsumugi’s chest. “You— shouldn’t you have fucked off somewhere after the killing game? The one you masterminded?”
Tsumugi glanced down at her with narrowed eyes, grimacing. Stepping away from the trembling girl, she sighed. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I’ve been demoted. V3 was...” A flash of pure fury crossed the taller girl’s face before it disappeared, replaced with a dull, tired stare. “It was a disaster, according to the staff,” she bit out.
“I’m not surprised,” Maki retorted, as Tsumugi shot her an angry look. She crossed her arms. “Seems like the audience was sick of your obsession with Junko Enoshima.”
At that, Tsumugi cackled, a harsh, horrid laugh that unearthed memories of a trial room and an audience and a blue-haired mastermind swapping costume after costume. She shook her head. “Like you would know what the audience wants.”
“I don’t.” Maki straightened up. “And I don’t care.”
Turning on her heels, Maki strode over to the door, shoving it open and stalking outside. She barely noticed the staff member hurrying after her until the poor lady was standing in her way, face bewildered and worried. “Hey, did something happen there? You didn’t finish the—”
“Remind me again why I need to attend a costume fitting for a killing game that’s going to happen in virtual reality.”
The staff member paused, before her eyes lit up. “Oh, did nobody explain that to you? It’s primarily to sort out and design the outfit you’ll wear, as well as model it for the programmers of the killing game. Ah, but it’s also useful for merchandise purposes, as well as advertising…”
As she spoke, her hand snaked around Maki’s arm, pulling her along the hallway back to the function room. Her words became nothing but white noise after some time, Maki tuning her out until she was shoved back into the accursed room with the door slamming shut behind her.
Tsumugi stared at her, a sly smirk on her lips. Leaning against a round table, various large bags resting around it, she tilted her head towards Maki. “What happened to not caring about what the audience wants, hm?”
Maki’s gaze darkened. “They could die in a ditch for all I care.”
“Oh, that’s right. You’re not doing this for them.” As she spoke, Tsumugi rummaged through one of the bags, pulling out tool after tool. She slung a long measuring tape around her shoulders, tossed a sketchbook and pencil onto the table, and stuffed her pins and needles into a cushion.
“I suppose I could say something like… ‘Wow, it was so noble of you to sacrifice yourself for your friends!’—” Tsumugi’s voice took on a lighthearted tone, mocking her kindhearted personality from before the final trial, “—but I don’t really feel like it. I just want to get this done and over with.”
“What happened to loving Danganronpa with all your heart?” At that, Tsumugi turned rigid, freezing in place. Maki raised an eyebrow. “For somebody who claimed that the killing games are your life, you seem awfully bitter about it.”
“I—” Choking on her words, Tsumugi let out an irritated growl. Pointing the end of her pencil at Maki, she gestured at the chair across the table her equipment was around. “Sit. Down. Let’s just get this done already.”
As much as a small, petty, spiteful part of her wanted to refuse, Maki reluctantly walked over, sitting across the other girl. Despite her deadpan tone and sarcastic jabs, Tsumugi launched into professional mode, able to work her way through Maki’s barebone ideas and uninspired discussions to wrestle an actual design down.
Sliding the sketchbook towards Maki, Tsumugi leaned back in her chair, twirling the pencil in one hand. “There. If you’re not satisfied, then we’ll work through this again. But I’m sure you don’t want to spend more than a few hours discussing the smallest of clothes details with me, hm?”
Brushing her thumb over the page, Maki ignored Tsumugi’s jabs, eyes fixed on the design in front of her. She shrugged, chucking the book back at Tsumugi, who fumbled to catch it with one hand. “It’ll do.”
Tsumugi gritted her teeth, blue eyes flashing from behind her glasses. “Fine. Now get up. We still have the fitting to do.”
The tension in the room was palpable, a thick smog of overwhelming hatred, cold anger, and bitterness that overpowered everything else. As Tsumugi worked with the fabrics, fingers weaving in and out, pinning needles in place and drawing patterns swiftly, Maki couldn’t help but stare. There wasn’t anything else to do after all.
Tsumugi turned back towards her, grunting as she pinned something else into place. “Hold still,” she chided, grabbing Maki’s arm as she worked. “Or else you’re going to ruin this, and we’ll have to do another costume fitting together.”
“I’m surprised they forced you to work with me considering how much you hate me.”
Tsumugi faltered at that, pins hovering in the air before she resumed her work with a vengeance. Maki’s eyes flitted from side to side, taking in the room around her as she waited for a response. The only few things of interest were large, opulent vases lined up against the walls of the room, overflowing with lush greenery and flora. Other than that, the room was sparsely furnished with polished tables and elaborately carved chairs. There was the occasional plush sofa and coffee table, but little else.
Eventually, Tsumugi gave a reply, causing Maki to look back at the tailor. “I didn’t exactly have a choice,” Tsumugi admitted, eyes focused on her work as she spoke. “They figured that it’d be a, quote-unquote, lovely idea to have a familiar face from V3 work with you on Danganronpa 54.”
Maki snorted. “Are they brain-dead? They must be brain-dead.”
And for the first time out of all the hours they spent working together, Tsumugi nodded in agreement, stifling a laugh. “Oh, they don’t care. I tried telling them that maybe the last person you’d want to see is the person responsible for masterminding the game you suffered in, but oh well.” She ignored Maki’s cry of pain as a stray needle poked a little too far in the wrong direction. “It’s not easy to defy the higher-ups when their minds are really set on something. That’s the reason why we’ve had Junko for so many seasons, after all.”
Maki bit back a string of insults, forcing herself to bear the small throbbing pain from when the needle poked her a little too far. “I thought your obsession with Junko was the reason why she came back.”
“Nope.” Another needle jab, another stifled swear from Maki. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love Junko Enoshima. And honestly? I’m really happy I got to bring her back. She’s the best antagonist in the Danganronpa franchise, after all.” As she spoke, Tsumugi’s eyes grew distant, lips curling into a lovesick smile. “Without her, Danganronpa would have never grown so successful to begin with! And we kept bringing her back, because the audience demanded it. Did you know that Junko has been ranked the number one most popular Danganronpa character for 53 seasons straight?”
“I don’t care.”
“But I do.” Tsumugi’s voice was smug. She pulled away the fabric draped around Maki’s shoulders, fiddling with various pins and fabrics. “But even though we keep bringing her back each season, there’s always that one fool on the writing team who’ll ask ‘Oh Director Hazama, could we write a different mastermind? Maybe we should try something else that isn’t Junko, the audience might enjoy it!’ And then next thing you know, that person’s been kicked to the bottom of the barrel, working on nothing but filler text for the new mascots of the season.”
“Am I supposed to care about this?” A third jab of the needle, and Maki hissed. “If you jab me with that needle one more time, I swear I am going to kill you.”
“Ah… no wonder there was some blood on the fabric.” Tsumugi’s voice was nonchalant, uncaring. “Well, it’s no matter. I’ll just redo it later. I already got your measurements. Though we’ll probably have to do another fitting.”
“Another fitting?” Maki buried her head in her hands, ignoring Tsumugi’s cry for her to stand still. “If I have to hear you blab about Junko Enoshima one more time—”
“Oh, I’m done.” Tsumugi shrugged. Though she tried to keep her expression impassive, there was something burning in her blue eyes — was it resentment, fury, or something else? Maki wasn’t sure. As she stitched something together, Tsumugi sighed. “Ah, it’s a shame, really. At least I was able to bring her back for one last hurrah.”
“You— What do you mean?”
But rather than replying with a solid, definite answer, Tsumugi simply glanced up, giving Maki a thin smile, blue haired tumbling over her shoulders. As she reached up to carefully pull apart the clothes she was fitting, she spoke, “Ah, but that would be a spoiler.”
And no matter how hard Maki tried to intimidate the blue-haired girl into confessing her secrets, she left the design session with nothing but a smile and a wave from Tsumugi, three bloody needle pricks, and no answers.
DANGANRONPA 54 RELEASE DATE CONFIRMED FOR 10th OF OCTOBER
EXCLUSIVE SECOND LOOK AT DANGANRONPA 54’S CAST: OFFICIAL DESIGNS AND MORE
DANGANRONPA V3 KILLING HARMONY REVIEW: A GOOD SEASON WITH AN AWFUL ENDING
It was a week before the killing game when Shuichi visited again, this time accompanied by another person.
Maki’s head shot up at the sound of knocking, hesitating ever so slightly before walking across the carpeted floor to peer through the peephole. As soon as she caught sight of who was outside, she was twisting the doorknob and flinging the door wide open.
Before she could even speak, somebody barrelled into her, wrapping their arms tightly around her body. Maki glanced down at one teary-eyed Himiko Yumeno, who had begun to bawl into her sweater, swaying slightly as she cried. “I thought I wasn’t gonna see you again!”
The door clicked shut, and Maki watched as Shuichi stepped into the room, giving her a tired smile. “Hello, Maki.”
Maki found herself patting Himiko’s back, a little unsure of how exactly to comfort a crying person. After all, even if her memories of being an assassin, of growing up emotionally stunted, were false, they made up who she was now, and as such, she was at a loss. “I— It’s good to see you again, Himiko, Shuichi.”
Pulling away from Maki, Himiko pouted as she rubbed her eyes. “Nyeh? Is that all you’ve got to say? Aw, but Shuichi said you were so emotional last time.”
Maki stuttered, cheeks heating up. She fixed Shuichi with a questioning stare. “Is this true?”
“Ah, I—” Shuichi gestured aimlessly before caving and nodding, averting his gaze. “Yes.”
“What’re we standing ‘round for?” Himiko complained, interrupting the duo’s stare-off. Grabbing hold of Shuichi and Maki’s hands, she dragged them over to the queen-sized bed before letting go and jumping on it. Kicking back, she sprawled over the rumpled surface, laughing. “C’mon! You guys keep standing ‘round like a buncha boring people.”
Maki shook her head at Himiko, though there was the ghost of a smile on her face. “You’ve only been here for a few minutes, and you’ve already taken over my bed.”
“Well with a bed this comfy, I’d be able to recharge my mana in only an hour!” Himiko laughed, red hair sprawled around her like a halo. Eventually though, she sat up, patting the spaces next to her. “Mm, you two should sit too. C’mon!”
“Alright, alright.” Shuichi relented, sinking into the space to Himiko’s right, while Maki perched at the edge of the bed on Himiko’s left. There was a brief moment of silence, before Shuichi coughed. “So, uh— Maki, how have you been?”
“Surviving.” Maki’s response was instantaneous, voice flat. Her hands snaked upwards absentmindedly to fiddle with her hair, the dark locks tumbling over her shoulders in a knotted mess. “I… I’m not going to lie and say I’m okay when the killing game starts next week.”
As soon as she uttered the dreaded two words, Himiko went rigid, hands clasping the bedsheets in a white-knuckled grip. Shuichi blinked at her, mouth slightly agape before he let out a heavy sigh. “I know. I— We weren’t expecting you to be, well, okay with that.”
“I don’t want you to play the game again.” Himiko’s voice choked up. She latched onto Maki’s arm, hugging her tightly. “I don’t think I could bear w-watching you go through that again.”
“Himiko…” Maki’s heart clenched as Himiko held her arm in a vice grip, hair covering her face. But before she could say anything else, the other girl spoke again.
“You’ll forget about us, right?” Himiko’s voice was soft and shaky. Gone was the lighthearted and happy tone from earlier, a little too forced in hindsight. The red-haired girl sighed. “I wish I could use my magic on all the people running the killing games... I’d turn them into toads. That way they wouldn’t be able to make any more stupid games.” The grip on Maki’s arm loosened as Himiko pulled away to wipe at her eyes, tear tracks staining her cheeks. “But now I’m just out of mana… all the time. Ever since the killing game, I haven’t been able to use my magic. It’s just too tiring.”
She felt her throat dry as Himiko wept silently. Shuffling closer to the girl, Maki hesitated before wrapping an arm around Himiko’s shoulder, rubbing her arm gently. She glanced over at Shuichi, who had grabbed the crying girl’s hand, holding it firmly. The trio sat in an uneasy silence, the only sounds echoing through the room being that of muffled sobs and little else.
Eventually, Himiko’s sobs had devolved into snorting hiccup fits before coming to an end. Neither Maki nor Shuichi made the first move to shift away. Instead it was Himiko who pulled away from their grasps as soon as she had gotten her emotions under control. She laid back on the bed, the only evidence of her teary fit being her red eyes and hoarse voice. “Mm, Maki? Um, I know this is strange to ask but… um—”
“We’d like to know more about the killing game,” Shuichi said, Himiko nodding her assent. “Or at least what you know of it.”
“Why?” Maki immediately asked, though her voice lacked any anger or hostility to it. Instead, she sounded confused, unsure.
“It’s…” Shuichi trailed off, a flash of uncertainty crossing his eyes. He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “We thought that maybe you’d like to talk about it…?”
“Shuichi.” Maki’s voice was flat. “I’ve seen you lie better than that.”
A pause. Shuichi exhaled, relenting. “We were curious,” he admitted, Himiko nodding in agreement. “There’s been a lot of news coverage lately saying that they’ve been doing several new things with the newest season.”
“And we wanted to ask you ‘bout it,” Himiko added with a yawn. “Mm… Your bed is comfy, Maki. Don’t mind if I just…”
At the sound of snoring, Shuichi’s eyes widened, stuttering as he reached over to shake the sleeping girl’s arm. “H-hey, Himiko? Don’t fall asleep—”
Eyes flying open, Himiko flashed a grin at Shuichi, giggling slightly. “Nah, I was juuuust playing with ya.” Pushing herself upwards, she dangled her legs off the edge of the bed, nodding at Maki. “But Shuichi’s telling the truth though… They’ve been talking a lot ‘bout the latest season. Keep saying that it’s gonna be new and different and better. Though I think it’s a buncha baloney!”
“Agreed,” Maki said, causing Himiko to stifle a laugh. Tilting her head upwards, Maki stared at the ceiling, running a hand through her tangled hair with a groan. “It’s— ugh. They keep telling me that they’re letting us have more creative control, but I don’t believe them. Not entirely, at least.”
“Creative control?” Shuichi leaned in ever-so-slightly, eyes glinting with curiosity, seeking for more information.
Maki shrugged. “I mean, I know what my talent’s going to be. Ultimate Survivor. Just like Rantaro’s was. But they keep asking me about what I want my backstory to be, what I want my personality to be—”
“Eeh?” Himiko let out a shocked gasp. “Personality? Maki, are you gonna be someone different?”
“What? No.” Scrunching her nose, Maki made a disgusted noise, gagging at the thought. “I’m not changing who I am again. I don’t want to anyways.”
“So they’re letting you keep your personality from V3?” Shuichi cut in as Himiko let out a flurry of magical-based threats towards the creators of the killing game. The dark-haired boy frowned, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “That seems almost too good to be true.”
“It does,” Maki agreed with a heavy sigh, fingers fiddling the sleeves of her sweater. “That’s why I’m so sceptical about it. What’s stopping them from just… going back on their word? It’s not like I’ll have any control over what they do once I’m actually in the game.”
Her voice was bitter, tinged with a strange sadness. Shuichi stared at her, shoulders slumping, looking defeated. “I’m sorry.”
“Why are you apologising? It’s not like you’re the one responsible for this.”
“I know, but I—”
“Uhm…” Himiko tugged at Maki’s sleeve, grabbing her attention. As she turned to look at the small mage, Himiko’s expression was distant, lost in thought. “Buuuut that’s in the worst case scenario, right? What if they don’t go back on their words?”
If they don’t go back on their words, huh? Truthfully, Maki had spent so long thinking and worrying about Team Danganronpa deceiving her that she never stopped to wonder what would occur if they didn’t. And the more she thought about it, the less tense she felt, a tiny glimmer of something welling in her chest.
“If they don’t go back on their words,” Maki started, words cautious and slow, “then I think I’ll be… okay. Or as okay as I can be.”
“I don’t think they’d betray ya,” Himiko admitted, causing both Maki and Shuichi to give her looks of surprise. She shrugged. “It’s like… they keep bragging and goin’ on and on ‘bout how much better the season’s gonna be. And the audience ain’t stupid. If Team Danganronpa tries anything funny with Maki, then…” Tapping her finger against her chin, Himiko pursed her lips. “I dunno. The audience’ll know, maybe? You were preeeetty popular in our season. Ah, don’t glare at me!”
“Himiko has a point though.” Shuichi winced, hands flying up in front of himself defensively as Maki whirled towards him. “Considering all the bad rep the ending of V3 got, it wouldn’t make sense for them to tarnish their reputation by telling lies to the media.”
“But would the audience even be able to tell if the characters’ personalities are what they wanted?” Maki countered. “They wouldn’t—”
“Which is why you should tell us ‘bout the next killing game!” Himiko straightened up, giving Maki a surprisingly fierce and determined look. Pumping her fists in the air, Himiko yelled, “We’ll fight them if they pull any stupid things! We’ll know if they messed with ya or not!”
“Are you an idiot?” Maki blurted out, eyebrows furrowing. “That’s—”
She faltered. “That’s actually… not an awful idea.”
“You see? You see?” Himiko laughed triumphantly, hands on her hips. “I’m pretty smart sometimes too! But… nyeh, that was the last of my mana… I spent it on a wisdom spell, so I could help you!”
Placing a hand on Himiko’s shoulder, Shuichi gave her a kind smile, nodding thankfully. “I’ll take over from here, Himiko. Thank you for the help.”
“No problem!” The mage sang cheerily, flopping back onto the bed, arms sprawled openly at her sides. As she laid there, legs kicking slightly before slowing to a halt, Shuichi nodded at Maki, interest gleaming in his eyes, lips stretched into a comforting smile.
“Are you up for talking about it?”
“So let me get this straight.” Shuichi pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, as he paused before continuing. Hand gesturing aimlessly, he stared at Maki, who sat with her arms and legs crossed. “You’re telling me that Tsumugi got relegated to… costume designer?”
Maki nodded wordlessly. Shuichi gawked at her for a few moments, before turning away to stare at the carpeted floor. Eventually he spoke. “I did not expect that.”
“Yeah, well neither did she,” Maki snarked, mind drifting back to the costume session with the blue-haired girl. She remembered the tailor’s bitter voice, her sharp jabs and insults, and the way she burned with barely-restrained resentment whenever she spoke about the 53rd killing game or the company she was working for. “She was really annoyed with Team Danganronpa,” Maki said, still cycling through her memories of that day. “She also told me to get it done with already. The fitting session, that is.”
“That does seem a little strange,” Shuichi mused, rubbing his chin. Between him and Maki, Himiko laid on the bed, snoring. Though she tried to stay awake as they began their discussion, her ever-present exhaustion soon got the better of her, forcing her to pass out into a slumber. “If anything, I thought that she’d be excited to work on another killing game. Though if we consider the possibility that she was demoted due to V3’s ending…”
Maki hummed. “It makes a lot more sense that way. A die-hard fan of Danganronpa who finally got the chance to mastermind a killing game, who messed up said killing game—”
“And got demoted because of the poor reviews,” Shuichi interrupted, snapping his fingers. Flushing slightly, he laughed sheepishly. “Ah— sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“It’s fine.” With that conversation about Tsumugi wrapped up and concluded, the duo settled into a comfortable silence as Maki waited for Shuichi to collect his thoughts. In the few hours they had spent together, Maki had told Shuichi everything she knew to the best of her ability — her role, her character, her survivor’s perk, and more. It eventually devolved into her complaining about the sessions she had with various staff, and Shuichi egging her on with curious questions.
While Maki was in the middle of ranting about a creepy intern, she suddenly trailed off, a thought abruptly crossing her head. Her eyes widened and she stiffened visibly, biting her lips. The other boy noticed this and gave her a concerned look, head tilting to one side. “You okay?”
“I’m fine, I just—” Shaking her head, Maki stared at the floor, her legs swaying front and back ever so slightly. “I just remembered something.” A pause. She swallowed, something warm and tight and unsure and nervous filling her chest. “Can we talk about it?”
“I, uh— sure? Sorry, I mean—” Shuichi gave her a reassuring glance, though his fingers tapped against the bed incessantly. “Yeah, we can talk about it.”
Maki sat there in silence, legs swinging, arms tense. There were so many what-ifs and question marks running around in her head, and the rapid thumping of her heart against her chest didn’t help either. She fidgeted nervously, hands shifting upwards absentmindedly to tug and pull at her hair. “Do you, um— Do you know anything about K-Kaito?”
The question that had been on the back of her mind for weeks had finally come out into the open. After the first time, when Shuichi left and she had realised with a heavy heart that she had forgotten to ask him about the most important person in her life, she had sworn to bring it up again if she ever got another visit.
Ironically enough, she had nearly forgotten to ask the second time round. Himiko’s teary breakdown and Shuichi’s questions about the 54th game was a massive distraction for Maki’s thoughts. A string of curses played out in her mind, ranting at her for being so foolish to have almost screwed up again.
“Ah— Kaito?” At the sound of his name, Maki snapped back to attention, head jerking upwards to give Shuichi a desperate look. The dark-haired boy stared at her with an apology in his eyes, lips turned into a slight frown.
No. Don’t tell me—
“He’s still asleep,” Shuichi said, shoulders sagging as he gave Maki what seemed like the most pitiful look ever. As she gaped wordlessly, Shuichi ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “He’s— well he’s still alive, and he’s slated to wake up soon, but—”
“When?” Her reply was rushed, her voice desperate. At Shuichi’s wince, she froze, realisation hitting her like a truck. Her voice shook. “It’s— I— He’s not waking before I enter the game, is he?”
She felt something warm wrap around her hand as her shoulders began to shake, unable to tear her gaze away from Shuichi’s sorrowful expression. A thumb began to brush over her hand gently. “I’m sorry, Maki,” Shuichi said quietly.
But even as she felt something drip down her cheeks and the feeling of tightness and warmth in her chest spluttered out into something hollow and empty, there was a tiny part of Maki that couldn’t help feeling some strange sensation of relief.
“I…” Shuichi reached over to grab her other hand, squeezing it tightly as Maki struggled to speak. Before long, she shook her head, her emotions overwhelming her like a massive riptide of sorrow and love and fear.
“Take your time.” Shuichi’s voice was gentle, a grounding force in the midst of her turbulent emotions, a soothing presence as she choked out a sob.
It took a while before she could speak again, wrestling her emotions until her tears had dried and she could breathe. But eventually, Maki turned back to Shuichi, their hands still intertwined. Her voice was soft. “Why isn’t he awake yet? I… I thought that everybody had awoken by now.”
“Everybody else has.” Shuichi’s voice was firm but not hollow, filled with something that she couldn’t quite describe. “Someone else asked about it— Kokichi did,” he clarified, upon seeing Maki’s questioning look. “He told us that it was the illness Kaito had in the game.”
Hearing his name filled Maki with a tornado of emotions, but she shoved it down. There was little point in unpacking those, not when she wouldn’t be seeing the purple-haired boy again, not when she didn’t know who he truly was in the end. Instead, Maki bit her lips, pondering over Shuichi’s words. “How? Wasn’t that just— fictional?”
She choked on the word, mind racing with thoughts of a blue-haired girl’s cackling and the reality that nothing around her or about her was real, real, real. So when Shuichi replied, she latched onto his words, squeezing his hands tightly to escape from her memories.
“It’s complicated,” Shuichi sighed, face falling. “Apparently it’s something to do with him suffering from the illness throughout the killing game. Even if it was fake and his body is technically fine, his mind doesn’t see it that way. It’s why he’s taking so long to wake up. Ah, how do I put it?” She watched as Shuichi tilted his head backwards, taking a moment to think before turning back towards her. “You know how you woke up relatively fast, right?”
Maki nodded. Shuichi continued on with his explanation. “From what I understand, the faster the death, the sooner you’ll wake up. It’s because you die quicker than you can process it. Same reason why people like Rantaro and Kirumi woke up before V3 even finished. On the other hand, there’s people like Kaede and Korekiyo—” Himiko startled awake at the name, staring at Shuichi with bleary eyes. “—and Miu, who all woke up far later. Their deaths were dragged out.”
“Nyeh? What are you two talking about?” Maki glanced over her shoulder, staring at Himiko, who was yawning. Blinking at them, she pouted. “I woke up because I heard his name…”
“Ah— I’m sorry Himiko!”
The mage shrugged, pushing herself into sitting position. Maki pulled away from Shuichi’s grip as Himiko pushed past them, sliding off the bed to shuffle over to the doorway. “Why’s the room so dark…? What time is it?”
“It’s not that dark, Himiko,” Shuichi replied as Maki turned to glance at the window. The sky was barely even night yet, the sun only just starting to set in. The lights flicked on in the room, illuminating the place. “But thank you for, um, turning the lights on?”
“You’re welcome,” Himiko drawled, walking back towards the bed. Rather than flop in the small space between her friends, she shuffled behind them, seated cross-legged in the middle of the bed. “So what were y’all talking ‘bout?”
“Kaito,” Maki answered at the same time Shuichi said “The others.” Himiko stared at both of them, utterly befuddled. Shuichi and Maki stared at each other, before Maki said “Both.”
“Maki asked about Kaito, and I was telling her about him,” Shuichi explained, Himiko nodding as her expression of confusion began to vanish. “Do you remember what Kokichi told us?”
“Theeee, uh…” Himiko tapped her chin, before snapping her finger. “Ah! The thing about how long it’ll take for everyone to wake, right? Like how Kaito’s still asleep ‘cuz of the whole disease thingy! And how Ryoma took a while to wake, ‘cuz he drowned, yeah?”
“Ryoma took a while to wake up?” Himiko nodded, and Maki leaned backwards, folding her arms. “So who’s awake then?”
“Well Shuichi and I woke up immediately after the trial,” Himiko started, beginning to count on her fingers. “I think it’s ‘cuz we didn’t die? But we’re the uh…” She turned to look at Shuichi. “What did he call us?”
“Who, Kokichi?” Himiko nodded. “He called us the exception,” Shuichi answered.
“The exception, yes, that’s what it was!” Himiko cheered, slinging her arms around Shuichi to give him a big hug. Pulling away, she continued counting. “I think Rantaro and Kirumi woke first? Before the game even ended— did they? Or was there someone else with them?”
Shuichi shook her head. Himiko furrowed her brows. “Uhm, but didn’t Kokichi wake pretty quickly too?”
“He woke up after we did.” Maki’s eyes kept flitting back and forth, watching as her friends countered each other, Shuichi helping Himiko to explain it all bit by bit. She found herself climbing onto the bed, sitting against her mountain of pillows, listening intently. Though the setting sun meant that they would eventually have to leave, Maki found that she didn’t mind simply listening to them talk about their fellow classmates.
If anything, it was nice to hear about them.
“He did? Oh wait, he did!” Himiko counted another finger, four fingers sticking up on her left hand, and one finger sticking up on her right. “So there’s four people who woke up before the game ended. I’m countin’ me and Shuichi ‘cuz we woke up when it all ended. And then there’s Kokichi, he woke up pretty fast… Who else woke up fast?” She mumbled to herself, before speaking up again. “There was Angie and Tenko, and you too. And, uh, T-Tsumugi.”
With each name listed, she lifted another finger on her right hand up till it was opened wide. Himiko stared at her hand. “I wish I had more fingers… Ah well, I’ll just use my other hand.” Curling her left hand into a fist, she began listing names. “Gonta was next, I think? He gave me a big hug once we met… And then there was Kaede, Miu, Ryoma, K-Korekiyo, um—” Her left hand was now sprawled open entirely before curling back into a fist. “There’s still Kaito, but he’s still sleepin’.” Her index finger poked upwards, indicating a one. “And that’s everyone, I think.”
“Not quite,” Shuichi pointed out, as Himiko gave him a strange look. “Granted, nobody really knows where he went, but—”
Himiko yelped. “Keebo! I forgot ‘bout Keebo! But Kokichi said he didn’t wake up—” Turning towards Maki, Himiko grabbed her wrists, shaking intensely. “Maki! Do you know anything ‘bout Keebo?”
Maki’s throat dried. “I— no?”
Himiko’s face fell, lips dropping as she let go of Maki’s wrist. Leaning back, she whined. “We don’t know anything ‘bout him! He just vanished!”
“Kokichi did say he’s a robot though,” Shuichi pointed out, wincing slightly. “At least, that’s what he meant. But he did bring up the possibility that Keebo might not actually be a real person, and therefore, doesn’t have to wake up.”
“But he’s not sure!” Himiko rebutted, hitting the bed with her fists. She jabbed a finger at Maki, eyes burning with determination. “Maki! Tell us everything you know ‘bout Keebo, or I’ll have to cast a curse on you!”
“I already told you,” Maki bit out, eyes flashing dangerously, “I don’t know.” Narrowing her eyes, she shrugged, the words rushing out before she could stop herself. “And to be honest, I don’t care.”
As soon as she said it, Himiko’s eyes widened dramatically, hands reaching up to cover her mouth. Shuichi’s reaction was less intense, but he still shot Maki a questioning look, lips twisting. As Himiko spluttered, Shuichi took over, sweeping in without hesitation. “Maki. What do you mean?”
With an irritated groan, Maki leaned back into the pillows, sinking into the fluffy down with frustration and regret burning her skin. “Isn’t it obvious? He’s the audience’s surrogate. Why would I want to talk to him before another killing game?”
“But—” Himiko stared at her in utter confusion, voice trembling. “But he’s our friend!”
A pause. “I never said that he wasn’t,” Maki began slowly, voice cautious. Just how was she meant to explain her turbulent thoughts and feelings when she could barely understand them herself? “I appreciate everything he did for us in the killing game, but that was then. Now, we’re heading into a new killing game together, and I—”
Breaking off, Maki ran a hand through her hair, clenching clumps of it tightly. “I don’t know how to explain it, okay? It feels— wrong to seek him out, it feels weird.” The words were tumbling out faster and faster. “He’s the audience’s camera, he hears them and what they want and he guides himself based on that, and I’m supposed to just walk up to him and act like he’s not… that? Like the people who want us to kill each other for the sake of some pathetic hope versus despair aren’t egging him on and pressuring him to do things? It just feels wrong, okay? I-I don’t like it.”
The truth was out in the open now, and all she could do was take a deep breath, pointedly avoiding Himiko’s gaze. Her arms fell to her sides. As the silence dragged on, she spoke up again. “I know that’s not what you wanted to hear, but it’s the truth.”
Himiko didn’t reply, but Shuichi did. She could hear him talk as she stared at the wall. “It’s okay, Maki—”
“Is it though?” Maki muttered, hugging her knees to her chest. When Shuichi didn’t reply, she sighed. “I thought as much.”
“Ah—? Sorry, I was just thinking.” At that, she tore her eyes away from the room walls, giving Shuichi an indecipherable stare. Shuichi fiddled with the strings of his hoodie. “I mean, I understand it. It’s probably easier for Himiko and I to stomach the idea of talking to Keebo, considering we’re not… participating in that again.” He fixed her with a hard stare. “If you don’t want to seek him out, then you don’t have to.”
Maki was speechless, mouth opening and closing as she struggled to string together something, anything to say. “Shuichi, I—”
“I agree with Shuichi.” The tired drawl grabbed Maki’s attention, and she whirled around, staring at Himiko intently. The girl’s eyes were red and puffy, but she nodded at her. “I mean… I wanna talk to Keebo, but you don’t gotta if you don’t wanna.” Himiko faltered, before she pressed on. “And I’m sorry, Maki. I shouldn’t have pushed you to talk ‘bout it.”
“It’s… It’s fine.” At Himiko’s disbelieving look, Maki fidgeted. “No, really.”
The sky outside was growing darker and darker, the sun disappearing beyond the horizon. Maki found herself glancing outside, watching a few stars begin to speckle across the dimming sky before opening her mouth. “I don’t really want to talk about the killing game anymore.”
At that, she heard Shuichi let out a laugh, an honest to god laugh, and she glanced back to give him a questioning stare. “What?”
“No, no—” Waving his hand, he shook his head, shrugging off Maki’s hard look. “It’s nothing, I’m just… glad, kinda?” As Maki narrowed her eyes, Shuichi gestured at her. “I mean, I know we were the ones who pushed you into talking about it, and I’m grateful you told us everything, especially since you didn’t have to. But it would’ve been unfortunate if that was the only thing we talked about before we left. So I guess I’m glad that you don’t really want to talk about it.”
“Ah.” Maki bit her lips, not quite sure of what to say. “In hindsight, I didn’t mind talking about all of it as much as I thought I would,” she eventually said. “I wasn’t sure at first, but I think it helped in a way? It’s just— it’s complicated.”
“Well we don’t really have alotta time left,” Himiko interjected, attracting the two’s attention. Fixing Maki with a tired smile, she said, “Maybe it’s our turn to talk ‘bout somethin’ you wanna hear ‘bout. Like our boring lives or somethin’.”
“I wouldn’t mind that.” She grabbed a pillow, hugging it to her chest as she nodded at Himiko. “Tell me about it. What have you two been doing since the game?”
And as the setting sun vanished in the distance, the sky deepening into a shade of inky black scattered with stars, Maki was content to lean back against her pile of cushions and listen to Himiko babble on and on about her mundane life with Shuichi. She held a pillow tightly, hiding her face behind it whenever she felt the urge to smile as Shuichi interrupted Himiko every so often with another story.
In the depths of her mind, a tiny voice whispered questions. When’s the next time you’ll get to feel this happy? When’s the next time you’ll ever feel at bliss?
She didn’t know.
So Maki sat there, listening and holding everything they said close to her heart, until the time struck late and they had to leave.
DANGANRONPA 54 TITLE REVEAL: NEW DANGANRONPA 54: FINAL DUET
COUNTDOWN TO NEW DANGANRONPA 54: TWO DAYS LEFT
FANS VOTE AT THE POLLS: WHO WILL SURVIVE? WHO WILL DIE?
(It was time.)
Maki had been woken at the crack of dawn and given an hour to freshen up and change into whatever she wanted before being led by a talkative staff member away from her hotel room. As she watched the door slam shut behind her, the lock clicking, the gravity of the situation began to weigh down on her.
Never would she be able to escape back to a quiet room where the only person she had to interact with was herself. Now, she was trapped, forced to follow a stranger into the lift, and out of the grandiose hotel, walking through the empty lobby.
(It was time.)
She blinked as she stepped out of the hotel, the fresh air hitting her face for the first time in weeks. The sky was brightening bit by bit, but it was still dark enough for the streetlamps to be on. As she trudged over to the nondescript van, shivering in the chill of the autumn weather, she ignored any concerned queries from anybody around her, clambering into the vehicle and slamming the door shut.
(It was time.)
Before long, the van had slowed to a stop at its destination, and the door was pulled open. Maki stepped out of the vehicle, staring up at the building in front of her and swallowing nervously.
The Team Danganronpa headquarters was a massive, massive building, all glass and polished metal, an imposing black-white-and-red logo hanging in the middle of it all. She had only seen it once, when she was ushered along days after waking and recovering from her first killing game. Back then, she had turned to glance at the building as she stepped out, taking in the imposing monster of a building before turning and walking away.
But now, she was led towards the building, through the automatic doors, through the receptionist lobby, through a labyrinth of corridors and elevators, passing dozens of identical doors until she couldn’t tell where she came from or where she was going.
(It was time.)
The staff member stringing her along pushed open one of the many nondescript doors in one of the many identical corridors, ushering her in. She said something about a waiting room and preparations but Maki paid her no mind, instead standing and glancing around the room as the door closed behind her with a thud.
It was a relatively basic room, furnished with nothing but a comfortable sofa, a coffee table, and several arm chairs. A few potted plants were strewn around the room, and Maki noticed that some of the leaves and flowers were wilting as she walked over to settle in on the couch.
There was a clock in the room, hung up on the wall opposite her, above the door. She followed the ticking hands of the clock, staring at it as the voice in her head grew louder and her thoughts grew more chaotic, because the only other option would be to stare at the many framed posters of various Danganronpa seasons on the walls of the room.
(It was time.)
She fiddled with the sleeves of her hoodie, shuffled her feet as an hour passed. A tiny part of her was thankful that the staff had made the decision to let her wear anything she wanted, for they explained that it would be best to get as comfortable as possible for what would essentially be an indefinite amount of time spent in a coma. But the louder voice in her head, the part that seethed with anger and resentment and bitter, bitter sadness stomped on that tiny voice, and abandoned it without a second thought.
Another hour passed. And then another. The staff member had returned once, with stress lines along their forehead and a brisk walk that didn’t quite match the relaxed pace she had held earlier that morning. She had passed her a cup of water and a bagel, and left the room without looking back.
A third hour passed. She had slumped back into the cushions, eyes closed, drifting off into a sleepless haze as more time passed and she was left alone.
And then the door slammed open, and Maki was staring at an entirely different person — three people, all wearing lab coats — and she felt terror grip her heart and sweat bead along her forehead.
(It was time.)
She was led out of the room, led down corridor after corridor in the twisting labyrinth that the company called a headquarters. Each footstep felt heavier and heavier as her throat tightened and her chest clenched, her hands trembling and trembling incessantly.
And then she was standing in front of a massive set of doors, metal and heavy, coated with glossy black and white paint. One scientist was tapping a card against a reader, another was talking with the third, but none of them seemed to pay her any mind.
Even though there was a part of her that screamed at her, begged her to turn tail and flee, Maki shoved it down, burying it much like she buried her fears, her anger, her sadness, and everything else.
As the doors opened and someone gestured at her to enter, she swallowed her nerves, and readied herself.
It was time.
Maki Harukawa took a step into the room filled with pods and people, the door slamming shut behind her.