ピアニスト。

Mayurakazuemiko Umenoyakakutani, SHSL PIanist.

[rewoundcircuit]

ch5 : アアア : ryuunosuke_❗ mayurakazuemiko

[mayurakazuemiko]

rewoundcircuit‌:

…So it was an excuse. An excuse to demonstrate the roulette wheel, an excuse to ‘punish’ a rule-breaker, an excuse to hurt Nezumi specifically which called to mind –

There’s no time to think about that, as the tall frame of the pianist falters, then falls, his reaction is instantaneous as he rushes in her direction.

“M-MAYURAKAZUEMIKO-SAN!”

It wasn’t as if he’s never seen someone faint before. No, perhaps it was because he had witnessed such a thing before that he… finds himself unable to suppress his concern, rising panic – things that he was typically able to keep in check no problems asked.

What do I do, what do I–… 

“Ah, right! If it is alright, I would request that we are given some space unless you… are more knowledgeable about first aid than I am!”

He’s relieved as he sees no signs of bleeding, however he still attempts to gently lay the pianist on her back, an uncharacteristically frantic look on his face. Wake up, wake up, wake up…!

When Mayura’s turned over, her usual smile is nowhere to be seen, and the muscles in her face look relaxed. She’s out for maybe a minute, maybe a little bit more, but it’s agonizing either way, as she just lays there, motionless, unresponsive to any attempts to get her to wake up.

She finally does come to— the first thing that slowly trickles into her consciousness being the commotion surrounding her from behind a wall of static. She hears… someone’s voice, she isn’t sure who, and for a moment, she really isn’t sure why she’s suddenly waking up. It’s reminiscent of how they all first woke up here, and a pang of panic pierces her chest when she realizes this. Mayura blinks her eyes open, and sees… the ceiling of… the lounge?

And... Ryuu. Ryuu is here. Her head hurts.

As soon as she is able to, she tries to snap on that smile of hers (though it admittedly looks almost painful to do so), and immediately tries to lift herself up, and while she feels a helping hand on her back to doing so, her arms wobble as she feels a sharp pain in her head. She leans into the touch a little too much and just allows herself to lie back down on the ground. Why is she on the ground? Why—

Her memory comes back almost too quickly, and it just causes her headache to become worse. Her eyes reflect fear at first, then panic, then guilt, and then, just before she lifts her hands up to cover her face from the rest of the world: shame.

Her head hurts.

She turns her head slightly away from Ryuu, away from any prying eyes as her gloved hands try to cover up her emotions as best they can. She wants to go back to that dreamless sleep, where she didn’t have to think about anything. This situation is just… embarrassing.

And the reason why she’s even— no, she can’t even think about…

She just wants to go to sleep.

[rewoundcircuit]

❈ ask me a riddle and i reply. | mayurakazuemiko. | ch v: motive reaction

Nightmares don’t end just because you opened your eyes.

For Mayura, she isn’t even sure if she slept for longer than an hour when she wakes up, ceiling greeting her with shadows that she isn’t sure are real or not. She wonders if the images playing behind her eyelids are lingering effects from the previous motive. From there, after getting ready for the day, her very early morning consists of sitting in front of the piano, staring at the keys and wondering when music will play from the instrument. It never does. Even when they’re summoned by Monokuma, she stays at the piano until she absolutely has to go to the lounge— smile donned on her face despite the disappointment in her eyes after standing up from the instrument without having played anything.

She finds a spot in the back of the room, behind everyone as much as she can be. She doesn’t want to be here— it gives her an unpleasant feeling in her stomach, something like the very first time they had to all come here. She stares at the wheel. She stares at Monokuma. Her smile doesn’t falter at anything, until Monokuma’s finger points to Nezumi.

The pianist still stares, watching from her place in the back of the room as Nezumi walks up to the wheel. Curiosity gets the better of her, and Mayura moves to the side a bit to catch a better glimpse of what’s on the screen. She feels almost sorry for the girl, something so embarrassing happening to her— in another context perhaps she would have enjoyed this, found it funny even, but after how tired she feels and the fact that she somehow, now, after so long, perhaps considered Nezumi a friend—

The screen changes suddenly and Mayura’s eyes widen, hands and fingertips suddenly feeling cold as the true nature of this entire ordeal is revealed. The pianist looks to Nezumi for a reaction and before she can even look away, the blade pierces through Nezumi’s chest. The pianist witnesses it all, completely frozen in her shock and unable to breathe out as Nezumi turns to everyone, and the blood spills from her mouth.

Her trembling smile is covered by her shaking hand as her knees wobble. She tries so desperately to, but she can’t look away, static fills her brain in place of Nezumi’s words, and as the theme park actress slumps to the ground, Mayura realizes it feels like her head is spinning, black spots appear in the edges of her vision, her lungs aren’t taking in any oxygen— she finds herself trying to kneel down carefully in order to catch her breath on more solid foundation than what her legs are providing, extending her hand to touch the ground—

But she doesn’t quite make it in time, and just a second later, the pianist collapses onto the floor, completely unconscious.

[rewoundcircuit]

Stitch, Sew, Cut, Pull | Takaku | Chapter 5 | 🎉Mayurakazuemiko

[mayurakazuemiko]

takakurukuru‌:

Takaku just stares back at Mayura with that same placid smile when she tells them no, and then immediately backpedals- no, she doesn’t backpedal, she finishes her sentence!- with a much gentler sort of expression. Or at least, that’s how they’d regard it if Mayura wasn’t always smiling just like them! There was no imperceptible sense that she didn’t like them floating around, no sirree!

“Thank you! I’ll pay close attention, promise.”

They meander over to the seat and plop themself down in it unceremoniously. They grip the seat and swing their legs a little, but for the most part it seems like they’re happy to keep this conversation civil if Mayura is. Look at the flowers, but don’t touch. They get the impression that if you’re willing to fall asleep surrounded by something, it’s gotta be pretty important to you. 

They watch. They look back at Mayura. They tilt their head to the side.

“…”

“I consider everyone here my friend even if they don’t feel the same way about me.”

They realize how that sounds like the most massive cop-out in the history of cop-outs, and they have an entire cop on site! They’re incredibly prone to just acting how they feel, and right now they feel like being calm and maybe even kind of honest with Mayura. It’s not like people usually listened to her anyways, and even if she did tell anyone about the conversation, Takaku had their doubts that anyone would believe it.

“I know I can’t make anyone like me if they don’t want to, but I’m gonna keep trying.” They tilt their head slightly to the other side. “Sometimes you just have to look at things from a different angle. Like sitting nicely and taking interest in the things they like to do instead of trying to find a joke they’ll find funny!”

Very subtle. Also very funny coming from someone who not a day ago went off about just wanting to keep things shaken up.

She threads the needle through the fabric, gathering it in such a way that makes the flower petals appear instantly. The gesture seems almost practiced— not like from a professional, but rather, something that someone has done far too many times to ever forget how to do it. She pauses at their answer. She thinks about her reply for a moment, and then:

“Delightful to know some people share that same line of thinking.”

There is no emotion in it, and she doesn’t look to them when she says it, going back to finishing up the flower as they continue. She’s focusing on it carefully, as if she wouldn’t ever dare let herself mess up, and it’s all going well, until Takaku says something that catches her off guard just enough to have her completely miss the fabric and prick her fingertip with the needle.

There is barely a reaction other than a falter in her smile that looks like the face she might make if she is trying hard not to cry, but its quickly replaced with her gently putting the flower and needle down, eyes locked onto the beading blood on her index finger.

She stares at it, completely silent as if she hadn’t heard anything Takaku had said at all. She carefully brings up her thumb and pushes the skin around it, causing the tiny bead of blood to spread slightly.

Mayura looks at them, smile unchanging, and all she says is.

“It would be appreciated if you did not say things like that.”

Whatever that means.

She should probably… do something about the blood. The way she stares at it looks like she has never seen something like this before. Her hand lowers slightly, and she sighs, tired. She reaches into her pocket and takes out her handkerchief… just staring at it. She really doesn’t want to stain it. This is just the worst, Mayura thinks.

[rewoundcircuit]

Stitch, Sew, Cut, Pull | Takaku | Chapter 5 | 🎉Mayurakazuemiko

[mayurakazuemiko]

takakurukuru‌:

Takaku leaps back with the vigor of a cat startled by a cucumber, throwing their hands in the air once Mayura sits up. Theatrics as usual, though they seem to shift gears when she actually speaks to them and they lower their hands, expression settling into something almost adjacent to neutrality. That soft smile never leaves their face, a common thread between jester and pianist.

“Oh, did I? Sorry, Umenoyakakutani-chan. You just looked like you might have been kinda cold is all. I wasn’t trying to wake you up, promise!”

They chuckle good-naturedly, rocking ever-so-slightly on their heels as they try to keep the dramatic body language to a minimum. They fidget with their hands, glancing aside and furrowing their brow as they try to think of something to say that isn’t a joke. They need to be serious (relatively speaking) for Mayura now, especially after spending so long poking fun at her. This doesn’t come quite as naturally as the other side of their act. It’s like flipping a slightly weighted coin - it’s gonna land on heads more often than tails.

“… So! Those look really nice.” They point at the fabric flowers. They’re tempted for a moment to reach out and take one, maybe set it in their hat or something, but in an incredible display of restraint they actually manage to resist the urge. “Do you think you could show me how to make them? Maybe after you do what you’re gonna do with them, or get some proper sleep in a bed?”

“Or maybe you like sleeping at tables! I’m not gonna judge you for that. I mean, if you’re comfortable in here, I can leave and come back later so you can get back to sleep. Whatever I was gonna do can wait. It’s not more important than letting a friend get some much-needed rest.”

Did they really not know what they were planning to do in here, or were they just being vague about it for some reason?

The pianist is fixing the hair around her face, watching them fidget without a word. She doesn’t say anything to what they’re saying, until they ask if she can show them how to make the flowers. She almost cuts them off with—

“No.”

Her answer is firm and sudden. These flowers, these memorials… this was something between her and Takeru. Something that she wouldn’t dare replace him in order to do. She stares at Takaku in the silence following her answer, and slowly realizes that maybe… this is what Takeru would’ve— no, does— this is what Miyabi and her mothers want. To make friends? This is what—

“...of course it would not be a problem, is what I mean. Please, sit down, and allow me to complete this one before I show you.”

Her head hurts as she tries to figure out why she’s allowing Takaku to join her, but tries to ignore this. She gestures towards an empty chair a bit of a ways away from her own, though she does move over slightly to make room for them. She puts some of the flowers to the side gingerly, as if they were just as delicate as real ones. She doesn’t let them know what the flowers are for.

“I would rather not ruin my posture by sleeping on random tables— and…”

She picks up a piece of fabric she was working on, but stares at them as she ask.

“Are you truly considering me a friend, or is that just a word you like to throw around to see if it sticks?”

Scissors are picked up and fabric is cut, though Mayura waits for an answer.

[mayurakazuemiko]

ch 5 threads/timeline

bro i dont remember the last time my oc survived past chapter 4 what’s the etiquette in this place

❈» CHAPTER 5 THREADS TIMELINE

FREETIME (after trial/train ride back)

If anyone wants to stop to talk to Mayura before she heads to bed for the night let me know I wouldn’t mind doing a quick thread on the train or in the dorms area before sleeptimes!

FREETIME (next morning)

8AM - TAKAKU- [Costume Designer Lab] - PUB - CHELL

??AM - RYUU [??] - PRIV - ??

1PM - NEZUMI [Train Tracks] - PUB - CHELL

3PM - ATSUKO [Barista Lab] - PRIV - CHELL

6PM - ORPHEUS [Tunnel 20] - PRIV - CHELL

MOTIVE TIME (32 hours after trial end)

Nothing yet! Please DM if you’re interested…

Maybe a possible Orpheus/Takaku/Yvon/Mayura thread if everyone would like that haha

[rewoundcircuit]

❈ train track mind. | nezumi & mayurakazuemiko. | ch v.

The day felt like it was dragging on longer than usual. In most cases, the pianist would find herself in front of the piano, playing for hours to pass the time with something she absolutely loved. But earlier that day, as she sat in front of the piano for nearly an hour, she couldn’t get her fingertips to play anything that sounded… right. Every time she pressed a key, it just sounded like it could never bring her joy ever again, sounded like… how it did all those years ago.

Eventually, Mayurakazuemiko found herself sitting on the edge of the platform by the train tracks, staring at the trains arriving in and departing in complete silence. She listened to them as they made their way down the tunnels, and sometimes even felt that she could hear the echo of someone bouncing their voice off the walls— but that was probably just her imagination.

Her fingertips play with a small red and black bracelet absentmindedly as she tells herself it is just her imagination.

She dangles her legs off the platform, swaying them slightly, wondering if she will ever get the energy to get up and finally check out the new areas, when suddenly, she hears footsteps behind her. The pianist doesn’t really react to them, barely turning her head to glance at the shoes that she realizes probably belong to a certain classmate of hers. Her eyes just travel back to the tracks, remaining quiet.

[rewoundcircuit]

Stitch, Sew, Cut, Pull | Takaku | Chapter 5 | 🎉Mayurakazuemiko

[mayurakazuemiko]

rewoundcircuit‌:

It was early in the morning, but not too early. Early enough that they’d had time to chug a cup of coffee, but not early enough for the majority of the class to be up and active. Early enough for Takaku to hop on a train and go take a wander to the fabric area in anticipation of departing for what they assumed would be their own lab later on down the line. Why would they need it? … Oh, you know. Clown things. Mysterious chaotic acts.

What they find instead of an empty workstation is a very, very tired looking pianist. Surrounded by material, fabric flowers, the whole lot of it - and very clearly either asleep or taking a moment to rest. The jester appeared to consider this for a moment, and while perhaps they were very briefly tempted to make a ruckus to get her up and at ‘em, a second, smaller idea came to mind that seemed a whole lot more appropriate. There was plenty of fabric around, and it didn’t seem like this was the most comfortable place to sleep. While it wasn’t as if they could control the jingling, they COULD control a length of fabric.

That, then, was why as carefully as they could as to not rudely awaken the piano lady, they crept to the wall of fabric and kind of just… shoved their hands in to find the softest one they could. Takaku sure didn’t know enough about fabric to know what it was, but they figured it’d do. Snip, snip, and voila! A blanket, if you considered a sizable waste of fabric to be a blanket. Regardless, they draped it over their head in a way that meant they were carrying it Legend of Zelda style above their head with the fabric still dragging on the floor behind them a little bit. It almost looked a little ominous when they sidestepped out, adjusting their hold on the fabric and…

… attempting to gently lay it on Mayura. She looked like she might be cold, and it looked like this might be an incredibly ominous thing to wake up to. An outfit full of bells isn’t exactly conducive to stealth kindness.

This really isn’t like her, is it?

After a night of… well, it doesn’t matter, because by the time it was time for her to get up, she was already awake, and not wanting to stay in the confines of her room. After all, there was something she needed to do— something sort of like a  tradition now, that she and—

Well, she had done them alone before, but not the part where she had to put them together in front of their classmate’s doors. He was always the one to do that part.

The pianist was in the lab by 5am, and she wasn’t sure if it was the static in her head or the sheer exhaustion that made her want to rest her eyes for a bit, but she eventually found herself curling up against the table, using her arms and some stray fabric for comfort.

She hears… something, even though her internal clock says at least almost an hour has passed, she can’t find the energy to open her eyes to figure out what this… jingling sound, is…?

Wait… she recognizes that sound anywhere. Still, her eyes barely open, finding only fabric in front of her. If it is who she thinks it is, then is there anything really to worry about? (Probably.) The pianist can’t find the energy to worry about it if there is.

It isn’t until she feels something heavy on her shoulders that she flinches, sitting up and realizing that she actually fell asleep in a public place, and someone had caught her there, and oh this definitely isn’t like her.

The fabric falls off her back, to the floor, as she turns her head towards the jingling. Right, so it is Takaku, and they did find her sleeping here, and they… her eyes travel to the ground. Placed fabric over her for… what, exactly?

“Kurukuru-san. You startled me.”

[rewoundcircuit]

Chapter 5 | R.I.P.

It had been in the afternoon when the note had been posted up on the wall leading to the dorms. It is by evening, a few hours later, that the paper has been taken down in a rather unceremonious fashion.

On the ground right next to where it once was, the letter has been ripped into uniform pieces and just abandoned there. The pieces of it are small and many in an attempt to obscure the text, though it is not entirely impossible to put it all back together again; it would just require some patience.

[rewoundcircuit]

Chapter 5 | Making Amends

By the afternoon of the day following trial, there’s a typed note printed on plain paper and taped to the wall leading to the dorms. 

I’m really sorry. I don’t have any information on what’s past the tunnel grids. We never tried that, and their power really doesn’t go off. He was already planning the party for you all before we met up. Neither of us wanted to kill anyone, and I don’t want to do it again. Maybe that isn’t helpful coming from a note like this, but it’s really the truth. I can’t confess, but I should at least tell the truth about him. Sorry. 

 - Killer #4

Who could’ve written this…?

[rewoundcircuit]

                                                                    CHAPTER FOUR END.

                                                               Remaining Students: 12/20.

[rewoundcircuit]

Monotheatre 4 | Runaway Cinderella

Falling into the same as everything else that has remained consistent pattern-wise, it is Monokuma who continues to speak after the supposed histories of your classmates have been given to you.

“Okay, as always, the elevator should work for the next hour without my keycard scanning it. The consequences for staying down there are the same as always, and, well, this motive proved you guys can wait more than a couple of days to kill, so I wouldn’t recommend stayin’ here ‘less you got a death wish.”

“The time right now is a little before midnight. In around eight hours, the new area will be unlocked. It’s the last one, so sorry. We’ll be sticking around though even if there aren’t new places to give.”

“Oh, besides that, by the time you guys head back to your dorms, you’ll notice that the piano from the food court got moved over to your hallway. That one’s cause of a certain one of you requestin’ it in case you’re nosy. I keep my promises, I swear…”

You think you hear Monokuma mutter something after that– or at least you definitely see him do so, but it’s all too inaudible. The monitors turn off, and it is as this point that your monocoin count increases by two more, though it looks like for some this past chapter of your imprisonment has been more fruitful than typical.

With the last of the station being unveiled to you in the morning, would this mean the end…?

[rewoundcircuit]

Monotheatre 4 | The Tale of the Illusionist

Drawing from the same deck, the improper card reading continues. This time, however, the speaker is not Monomi but rather her companion Monokuma – just as it had been the previous times.

There once was a lively spark.

Born to a stage magician and a doctor, The Devil was destined for greatness.

But, from the beginning of her life, she hit a road block.

A disorder that made her unable to feel pain.

Worrying her parents, disallowing her from doing most things children do.

But, they didn’t want their child to be bored.

So they performed tricks for her as they watched over her.

And she loved it. 

She believed her parents were magical.

She wanted to be just like them.

Her interactions were limited.

Homeschooled and isolated.

But, she had one solace.

A young girl, the daughter of their neighbours.

The Devil waited patiently for her to get home from school, or to finish her homework.

Just so they could talk.

So they could no longer be alone.

She felt envious of her friend, really.

Even though she had her own problems, she wanted that same freedom.

The freedom to go outside.

The freedom to play.

She wanted to be free.

The Devil’s friend made a promise to her.

That they would go outside together when they had the chance.

And it was enough for The Devil.

It was enough for now. 

Until they finally were allowed to go to school.

The same school as her friend.

And she wanted to spend all of her time with her friend.

And all of her friend’s time should be spent with her.

But, that isn’t how friendship works.

And it doesn’t take too long for her friend to snap.

“Get away from me.”

It’s a shock to The Devil. 

And she cries that night.

But doesn’t let it keep her down.

She can’t.

She grows more social almost immediately.

If she can’t have her friend back, then she would make more friends.

Show her that she was fine without her.

…Even if, deep down, they could never fill that whole.

But, her sadness doesn’t go unnoticed.

Her parents take her to her father’s magic shows.

And his assistant falls ill.

So The Devil takes their place.

And the audience loves her.

But not as much as she loves the audience.

From that moment on, she knew she wanted to feel this way again.

She had been practicing magic since she was younger, but now it was time to show the world what she was made of.

Chase the thrill of being adored by the crowd. 

Performing large scale stunts that shock the world.

And even when she gets hurt without realizing it, and her parents worry for her wellbeing.

She doesn’t regret any of it.

And continues, every performance bigger and more perilous.

Even if she gets hurt, or maybe even dies.

It doesn’t really matter.

All The Devil cared about was the spotlight.

Anything to feel good.

The arcana is the means by which all is revealed…

The horrible habits of the past must be forgotten, and toxic bonds must break. This is the only way one can move forward. 

[rewoundcircuit]

Monotheatre 4 | The Tale of the Linguist

It is at that point you see Monomi appear on the television screens, and she seems to pull out a card from a deck just as she had done before.

She speaks aloud at this point, lilting tone carrying her through:

There once was a young prodigy. 

 Death had always been a smart kid.

From an early age, he was taught different languages.

He was such a fast learner.

Even when he began school, he was always at the top.

They even said he could skip ahead.

But his parents didn’t want that.

They wanted Death to make friends.

Friends his age.

But, in the end, it was all for nothing.

Perhaps he was a freak in their eyes.

Or maybe they thought he was better than them.

Any excuse they could find to exclude him.

Leave him behind.

At least it gave him time to himself.

To improve.

To become something that others could be proud of.

His parents thought his fluency was admirable.

So he learns even more.

Books and programs.

Anything he needed.

A natural gift that he would not take for granted.

But being good at something really isn’t enough.

It doesn’t make Death happy.

Doubt.

Shame.

Hatred.

That’s what it makes him feel.

He didn’t want to be what everyone thinks he is.

A nerd.

Weak.

Different.

He had to fit in.

And he has his chance.

Everything came to a boiling point.

Getting punched at school.

He had no choice but to admit it all to his parents.

And it doesn’t take long for them to take action.

Not when he says how he feels.

That nobody wants him around.

They uproot the family.

A better paying job.

A change of scenery

A chance for Death to belong.

And it works.

He makes friends, he’s loved, and he is accepted.

But he isn’t really the one who belongs

From day one, he wasn’t the same boy.

Changing his personality to be someone everyone can love.

No longer being seen as a nerd.

He pretended to be air headed.

Carefree.

He didn’t want them to know anything but his persona.

So, when his skills are shown to the public eye.

He worries about what his friends will think.

And when they find out…

They congratulate him.

They’re interested in his abilities.

They don’t hate him.

Though he can’t drop his persona…

Maybe, just maybe, he can slowly be himself.

The arcana is the means by which all is revealed…

Change cannot be stopped, nor can it be forced. Let life take its own path, everything happens for a reason.

[rewoundcircuit]

Monotheatre 4 | Daredevil’s Tricks

Considering three times is typically enough for a pattern, you have a pretty decent idea of what is to come after the screens shut off after the execution. Sure, this is a mistrial case and you’ve never experienced one of those before, so you don’t know if maybe this one COULD be different, but you think you hear something start to slide up above you.

And then… some kind of machinery turns on? It sounds like quite the powerful fan if anything. It hides the noise of something sliding that you had previously heard until–

FWOOSH!

Out from above the recently departed illusionist’s podium comes a flurry of playing cards flying just about everywhere. Upon closer inspection, a large number of the cards are burnt in some way or another, rendering them mostly useless for play. Amidst this chaos that could turn into a very unenjoyable game of 52 Pickup comes the descent of a familiar mask that is also slightly burnt.

This would be your resident illusionist’s as well.

The ceiling above their podium closes after the tumult of playing cards has finished, and it is at this point in time that the screens turn on again to broadcast something else.

[rewoundcircuit]

Monotheatre 4 | The Devil’s Final Show

tw: fire

You’re sure her exit would have been fitting for her, dramatic and over the top, if it hadn’t been for the fact that you’ve seen it all before– perhaps even one too many times. It felt almost like a disappearing act with how she was there just moments ago and gone the next.

There’s a silence while you stare at the blank screen, waiting for it to come alive to show you 🌠’s fate. Finally, after a few more moments, the screen turns on, showing you her final scene.

A spotlight illuminates 🌠, who is stood centre stage, looking as calm as someone can be in her situation. looking around at her surroundings. She found herself on a stage– but, unlike the one from the execution before hers, this one seemed new…almost normal, seemingly no danger present. 

The real abnormality was off the stage, as 🌠 glances over at the seats in front of her where the audience would be– only to actually see people, their eyes glued to her as if awaiting her next move. They wore dark cloaks and clothes, though the rest of their features were obscured by the darkness. 

There was a slightly weary feeling as 🌠 turned away from the crowd, deciding to investigate backstage for anything odd. At first, she didn’t find anything interesting, just seeming like a normal, yet empty, backstage area– until two things caught her eye.

A deck of cards on the floor…and a door that was clearly marked “EXIT”.

For a moment, 🌠 is still, almost as if she’s musing on what to do– only to pick up the deck and turn away from the door, making her way back to the stage. Perhaps it was because she simply didn’t trust that the way out would be so easy, or maybe she had long since given up on escaping.

…Or, perhaps, she simply wanted to perform, and there was very little else motivating her– only 🌠 knew her thought process, and all you could do was observe as she begins her magic trick, staring out at the ten or so people in the audience. 

At first, it seems as if the crowd is watching her intently…but after a few moments, they begin to get restless, getting out of their seats and walking towards the stage. Now in the light, it’s clear that their faces are covered by strange masks, making it impossible to tell who they were. 

🌠 has little time to react as a few of them grab her roughly, holding her back as the rest of the audience members go backstage, hearing the sound of a door opening and something being dragged across the floor. A few more minutes pass, and they return with what seems to be a wooden pole of sorts and some rope. 

Though she struggles, 🌠 is soon tied to the pole, beginning to look oddly calm. She was an illusionist, so you didn’t doubt that she would be able to escape free herself from such a dangerous situation. As she fiddles with the rope around her hands, a member from the audience taking the deck of cards that had fallen on the floor and scattering the cards at 🌠’s feet…while another one takes out a matchbox, lighting a match and throwing it down onto the cards.

The flames quickly grow, surrounding the illusionist, who stares calmly, no longer trying to escape. Even as the flames touch her body, she doesn’t move, nor does she seem to be in any sort of pain.

As the fire grows, beginning to climb her body, the curtains close…leaving you with a dark smoke that begins to pool underneath, filling the theatre as the feed is cut off.

🌠 Ryuusei Mochida, the Super High-School Level Illusionist, has been executed.

[rewoundcircuit]

❈ won’t you play me one last song. | mayurakazuemiko. | monotheatre iv.

The votes come in, and the pianist watches everything crumble without even flinching.

Her eyes stay glued to the middle of the trial room circle, unable to witness which innocent person will be put up for…

No, she will not bear witness to this. Even after the results come in, and the room falls into organized chaos, and words are exchanged— the pianist doesn’t bear witness to any of it.

For the next 20 minutes, she drowns out everyone’s opinions and apologies and goodbyes to their resident illusionist— their innocent illusionist. For the next 20 minutes, she’s staring at her train time notes, going over everyone’s alibis in her head, repeating over and over again everything she thought she knew. She thought she knew him, after all, so… why didn’t they… figure out…

Her eyes suddenly widen, hand coming up to her mouth and heart nearly stopping still in her chest. The panic creeping in is agonizing as she tries to keep her composure. She had said enough today, and she can’t even look at Shooting Star in the eyes as they live out the last ten minutes of their life. Mayura holds her breath to keep herself from making any noise, and in a last effort to keep herself calm before entirely breaking, she lets out her breath in a slow exhale, bringing up her shaking hand to cover her face.

How can she face anyone after something like this— especially someone innocent?

… Especially someone who isn’t innocent?

Even after the last 10 minutes of silence, she can’t seem to find her answer.

[rewoundcircuit]

Trial 4 | Devil on My Shoulder

“With this, you also know that your resident illusionist didn’t do it. I’ll say some of you guys are super ballsy with your votes, but whatever. It’s your decision in the end.”

Monokuma gives a shrug of the shoulders.

“Them’s the breaks. This is the end of the road for them and the continuation of it for the rest of you – the process is different but the result is inevitably the same. Fate’s a sucker like that.”

And much like the inevitable despite a slight hiccup…

“…thirty minutes. You have thirty minutes until it’s punishment time, and well, you know what that means.”