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‘How beautiful and sweet you are. How utterly entrancing it is to see you: your actions, your mistakes… your suffering. I love it.’
It takes so much self-control not to say those words. A weaker person would’ve caved long, long ago. But Shirogane is anything but weak.
And it is absolutely crucial that her creations should not have an inkling of who she is. Tsumugi Shirogane is just another lost teenager. A victim in this killing game. A little too plain and boring to be memorable.
That is exactly how it should be.
A mastermind is only worthwhile if they can bring the twist at the right time. Pull the curtains, shock the audience, and get into the spotlight at the very last moment. Not a single second before that.
Those previous scenes were all about her dear, sweet creations. They deserved to shine as much as possible before their inevitable demise.
The brighter they shone, the more beautiful the end.
That was her prerogative as the creator of this game. No, this world. Perhaps the references to Death Note at the beginning were a little over the top, but could one blame her? Was she not, indeed, the god of this new world? As long as this was inside Danganronpa, and Monokuma was hers to control, was it not her own world, in a way?
She should have fun with this.
Of course, a quiet, subtle kind of fun. The type where you laugh along with everyone at the right times, stay quiet when it’s a somber moment, and make a joke when no one else will (which was surprisingly quite a bit in trials). She was that type of classmate — not friend, for they were never to be close enough — that was just… there. You remembered they existed when it was time to gather the whole group or when an activity was scheduled. Otherwise, you just kind of forgot they existed.
That was Shirogane Tsumugi. The plain, nerdy, and quiet girl with a love for cosplay. The type that only drew attention when she was in costume. And she purposefully made sure she would never be in costume — never in this game.
After all, who was she to demand the spotlight?
There would be plenty of time for that in the last chapter. For now, she would just… observe.
‘How beautiful and sweet you are… I’m honestly so proud of myself for creating a character like you. My masterpiece.’
Akamatsu Kaede was her star. She was so beautiful, bright, hopeful, a madonna to the lost sheep who yearned for a leader.
Oh, and how she delivered.
Perhaps too much.
She burned so bright, there was just not enough light to keep her. Never has Tsumugi seen a leader who gathered every single one of their classmates so quickly and effortlessly. Her lovingly created antagonists, Amami and Ouma, were a little too comfortable and happy to follow along with Akamatsu’s merry band of hopeful teens.
This wasn’t right. That is not how it should be.
Tsumugi thought of every single detail. The fatal flaw that would bring Akamatsu down (her hope coupled with hubris) should show itself with time. She had to move slowly, not rush through everything like this.
What about the love triangle between Akamatsu, Amami, and Saihara??
Everything she designed had gone so, so wrong.
Her main hero and main antagonist were going off script.
That was not acceptable.
So Tsumugi had to handle it herself.
How tiring. How disappointing, really. She had such high hopes for Akamatsu and Amami… even Ouma was playing a little too far from his assigned role.
The others were fine, though. Fitting into their mold, the one so lovingly created by her, they lived and breathed just as she desired. Just as they were meant to be.
Two failures in such a big group were, perhaps, to be expected. It’s a shame it happened.
But the game would go on.
And there was one who never disappointed her. In fact, quite the opposite.
Her darling little detective was the most entrancing, beautiful one out of the whole lot. Those piercing eyes that didn’t miss a single detail, but were still too shy and awkward to look directly at others. That tight little black uniform (her design, of course) only made those eyes grab even more attention. The cap that she knew would eventually come off, but how quickly had that happened… just like everything related to Akamatsu…
Saihara Shuichi was perfect.
Such a beautiful specimen. She had the brain, the skills, the looks, but none of the confidence her role demanded. So unsure of herself, she couldn’t even pick her own identity. Much less tell others how she wanted to be called or treated.
Tsumugi suspected that maybe Akamatsu knew. Maybe that was what made her break through Saihara’s walls so quickly and so efficiently. Burned through everything on her way, that pianist did.
But Tsumugi was not jealous. How could she be, really? A goddess could not envy her creations, much less seek to keep one only to herself. As tempting as that would be…
Saihara’s eyes always seemed to have this power to draw her in. She noticed she wasn’t the only one, with the way some classmates stared so much at the detective, even outside of class trials.
As they should.
A protagonist doesn’t need to always shine through at the very first second and gather the whole group together effortlessly. In fact, that’s just boring television.
No, a protagonist should struggle. She should find a new obstacle every step of the way. Her own self is an obstacle, something to conquer, to dominate. Her lack of confidence is a deep flaw that not only is a danger to her role to the audience, but also to her role within the group.
A detective who couldn’t draw everyone’s attention and respect? A detective willing to try in trials and commit perjury not once, but multiple times? The best of the country in her field can’t even convince the rest of the talented teenagers to take her seriously?
Now that was delicious television.
And truth be told, Shirogane must admit Saihara was just her type. She never quite cared for Amami’s shallow playboy type beauty. But she knew that was a popular type and, as a diversity first creator, of course, she would provide. But Amami would never be a true protagonist. Not in Tsumugi’s world.
Akamatsu proved not to be right for the role either, as beautiful and exciting as she was. Perhaps something deep down in Tsumugi knew this and that was why she’d picked two second options. Saihara for the protagonist, Ouma for the antagonist.
She wasn’t sure what it was but there was a feeling, almost as if something outside herself, that told her when things were working out and where they weren’t. Of course, there was the Danganronpa staff, but they followed her rules as mastermind. This feeling came from her… but it also felt like something outside of herself. Tsumugi couldn’t quite understand what it was. In the end, such musings took time and focus from the game, so she let them leave her mind.
She’d much rather think about Saihara’s latest performance in trials and investigations, after all.
“Do you think it would… fit me? Cosplaying a- a girl…?” That lost little voice of a lamb was so naive and needing guidance, it took everything in Tsumugi not to say too much.
“Of course! You’ll look beautiful! I guarantee it.” And she meant every word.
Saihara’s beautiful blush was so enticing, Tsumugi had to busy herself with scissors to keep her mind off that pale cheek and those short locks.
It was true. It would fit her perfectly. Any cosplay would, with those looks.
This would be a boost to the detective’s confidence. A way to find her identity.
Tsumugi knew that and so much more about her favorite character. It was only right that she would help her a little. While the game and trials were obstacles, the Tsumugi character could (and should) help her friend Saihara, especially when the subject was cosplaying.
And did they both not deserve a break, after all?
Instead of hanging out with that sweaty astronaut — Momota was truly starting to get on her nerves, maybe it was time to up the daily poison quantity in his AC — and dear little assassin — at least ‘Makiroll’ (ugh, what a horrible nickname) was following along the script for her crush, Saihara should absolutely spend time with Tsumugi too.
She made sure not to extend the invite to anyone else. But it was unnecessary and they both knew it. Just as both couldn’t wait for it, they also didn’t want anyone to get involved. Saihara didn’t want others — especially dummy Momota — to see her using makeup and trying on dresses and wigs. She wasn’t there yet.
Maybe she would never be, should the game end with her killed.
That was a real possibility but one Tsumugi wasn’t fond of, truly. A detective always had to survive, after all. Where was the fun in that?
And, not for the first time in the game, the mastermind was quite proud of her creations.
Saihara proved to be a much better protagonist than Akamatsu. She was giving Tsumugi — and the audience — such a good story, full of suffering and grief.
Everyone was eating it up. Nothing was more delicious than despair.
And Saihara delivered in spades.
The perfect protagonist.
Tsumugi sure knew how to pick them.
“What do you think, sir? Are all of them in character enough? Did we get the go-ahead from above?” An anxious employee asks his superior. He’s more the image of exhaustion than a person by this point, and he really, really doesn’t want to look at a mirror. He knows he looks terrible right now.
But they are in the crucial steps of the game and the numbers at this point have been incredible. Offing the protagonist was truly a work of genius.
He was damn lucky to be working on this season. He knew it was going to be big. Sleep could wait.
Plus, his boss was even more tired than anyone in the team. He was actually sleeping in the office. What an example. They should all aim to be more like him.
“Yep,” he nods, suppressing a yawn. “We’re good to go.”
Everything was moving along smoothly. Their handpicked mastermind this time was so plain and so not special that she wouldn’t be drawing any suspicions for a long time. The antagonist and hero were so attention grabbing, on the other hand, that they were clearly making numbers.
The only role that still had the studio divided was the detective. Saihara Shuichi didn’t command the room (or the audience’s) attention at all. ‘He’ was the sidekick to Akamatsu Kaede, but things were progressing much too quickly with her taking the wheel.
At least, according to the polls. And the audience was, of course, always right.
So far, the detective still held an overall acceptance among the public. Nowhere as divisive as the hero or the antagonist, it was a bet worth checking. They could always pick a new protagonist. It would never be Momota Kaito, who was as dangerous as Akamatsu. Perhaps Chabashira or Angie could take up the mantle. It had to be someone popular with the audience. Someone who screamed hope and dreams. But not too dumb, so Gonta and Yumeno were obviously out. They were more of a joke than anything but hey, the audience liked them. So they stayed — for now.
The protagonist could always be switched.
The mastermind, however, should not. And Shirogane Tsumugi was perfect. A boring, plain girl you would see anywhere on the street. That classmate you didn’t even remember a month after graduating. The nerdy, shy, and opinionless person that barely takes up space.
The perfect mastermind.
They sure knew how to pick them.