Savage and Loyal

...Small talk is not my forte. I suppose I can try to keep you company... if you wish. status; single, healthy tracking wingedenforcer [Closed Mukuro Ikusaba rp blog for despairs academy]

[wingedenforcer]

{ Use What You Have | peko-the-protector }

[peko-the-protector]

There was something about life in Hope’s Peak Academy that reached a standstill once that silly bear made his appearance— dividing the students and giving them reason to distrust one another— insisting that they murder one another. If not, the headmaster would select a random student to be killed. Although that aspect of his conditions proved to be quite concerning, Peko had convinced herself that should Fuyuhiko be picked, she would stand in his place. Or at the very least, go down trying. She hadn’t been able to see him much through the ordeal, having taken to his room more than usual. He had never been the type to go seeking others or making friends, after all. 

Despite the fact that she hated leaving him be in such a situation, she had to trust that none of their classmates would do anything much too risky. Being someone who only said things that needed to be said, the swordswoman had plenty of time to analyze her peers— most of the athletes striking her as formidable foes. She would weigh their strengths and weaknesses inwardly, determining whether or not she should keep a discreet eye on them. At this point in time, based on such frequent observation of her peers, it seemed that no one was willing to go so far quite yet. 

The dojo, her sanctuary in this school, was her destination. She felt at an incredibly large disadvantage without her shinai. Peko was certainly strong on her own without its’ assistance, of course. No one could expect anything less from a girl tailored to be a tool for the purpose of killing her entire life. But she’d also had a sword by her side, through every encounter. At the very least, she needed to ensure that her strength was up to par to endure any opponents that might attempt to strike. 

Instantly alerted to someone else’s presence, her scarlet gaze cut around the dojo until they landed on the cold, grayish blue stare of another. Her eyes narrowed just subtly, eyebrows knitting together as she registered the color of the other’s bracelet. Despite retaining this tidbit of information, she stood her ground and held the girl’s stare, almost as though stubbornly refusing to be the one to look away first. 

"What other reason would I be here for, other than to train?" She insisted, crossing her arms lightly across her chest. "I can assure you that I am not intent on murder." 

[wingedenforcer]

Keeping her unwavering gaze on the silver-haired girl before her, Mukuro angled her head slightly in what one could call curiosity if they must. Her lips pressed into a thin line while she thought and wondered just who this mysterious woman was, and why she reacted so emotionless to Mukuro's presence. Although her stoic expression showed no signs of cracking, Mukuro couldn't help but believe she felt threatened by the girl, and positioned her stance so that she may run--or fight--at the first sign of trouble.

However, that did not seem to be the case. The stranger remained unchanged by her question, simply answered and crossed her arms as though she were irritated by the sudden interrogation. Perhaps she had a reason; after all, it was not Mukuro's job to question her motives nor judge them. Maybe she had asked that question a bit too harshly? The thought lingered in her mind for only a moment before she realized the awkward silence that was ensuing.

She stared and stared into the red abyss of her eyes, blood-red, almost, Mukuro decided, and swallowed a lump in her throat as she continued to stare. It was almost as if taking her eyes off of her would let her win some imaginary competition, and Mukuro decidedly would not let her win. She wanted to believe her reason for never moving her gaze was for the sole fact that she didn't trust her--that she could easily wrap her slender fingers around her throat and suffocate her then and there. But if she wanted to kill her, she probably would have done so more quietly, and not alerted her to her presence before.

Still, Mukuro didn't trust her. She was far from trusting this mysterious stranger. Nothing this girl said would change her mind about anything, especially with words alone. After what felt like an eternity, Mukuro finally glanced away from the girl and turned her back towards her, walking towards the center of the room and standing there for a moment, gaze on her own two feet, before turning around and facing her once more.

"You're here to train, hm?" she said abruptly, "Well.... I am... here to train as well."

Between pauses, Mukuro brushed a sliver of black hair away from her gray eyes, tucked it behind her ear, and strengthened her stance. "Would you care to... spar with me, then? As long as we have a few rules in order, of course..."

Her speaking was spaced, breathy, and almost as if she were trying to find the correct words, running them through her head to make sure it sounded right, before saying them. And then, when she finally did speak, she went on for awhile, mumbling to herself under her breath, occasionally. "I'd imagine 'no murdering' would be an... obvious one. No weapons, either. This is, of course, if you'd accept my proposal..." 

[wingedenforcer]

{ Use What You Have | peko-the-protector }

Every morning, Mukuro felt her arms and legs beginning to cramp when she pulled herself out of bed. It was the first sign that she was beginning to lose her flexibility, and she soon figured she might as well do something about it. Though she hated leaving her sister without her protection, Mukuro knew that if she let herself become more and more immobile, when the time came that she needed to do something, she wouldn't be able to. 

So, she decided that she'd take an hour every morning, soon as she woke up, to train in the dojo nearby. Though her trusted bowie knife was still reportedly missing, that was no reason to stall. She'd simply have to make do without it, perhaps train her muscles in more conventional ways. The dojo was empty when she entered, hearing her footsteps echo in the open room. She set aside her heavier jacket and stood in her plain dress shirt and skirt, underneath a pair of boy shorts, and was prepared to begin when she heard the familiar sound of footsteps.

Instantly, she ducked around the corner in hiding, waiting for the stranger to appear from the doorway. And, when a silver slim of hair was visible through the crack, Mukuro leaped into action and was prepared to deliver a strike to the base of her neck before stopping herself.

The stranger was that--a stranger. Mukuro did not recognize her and certainly had not seen her before arriving at the school. Of course, Mukuro hardly knew anyone here, but that goes without saying. She took a step away from the strange girl with stark red eyes.

"What are you doing here?" Mukuro questioned, never once taking her eyes off the girl to be sure she wasn't about to try anything.

[wingedenforcer]

Red String of Fate ;]

Our muses are destined to meet during a festival.

If you asked Mukuro to recall how she managed to land herself in what most call Japan's busiest festivity, the story would begin with Junko. It always does. That's not to say she'd blame her sister, oh no--but she wouldn't exactly free her of responsibility.

Nonetheless, here she was. Sitting at a bar, a shot glass resting by her hand whose fingernails tapped against the wood. She'd heard a few hollars from men, who cooed and barked, yet quickly shuffled away in embarrassment when she gave them a glare as sharp as the knife under her belt. Even the bartender, who originally smiled and waved at her, avoided her as best he could when he made his way from one end of the bar to the other.

Junko had told her to relax, show a little skin, be a little wild. That was near impossible for her, and she found herself struggling to even let anyone close to her.

Then, a red-headed young man with piercings sat down next to her. She expected--

"You look a little bored. How's it hangin'? Got any guys ta keep ya company here?"

--there it was. The inevitable.

Mukuro offered as stoic an expression as she could muster and turned to him. "Forgive me, but I'm not exactly in need of any company at the moment..."

Whatever she did wrong, he certainly didn't get the hint. "Naw, c'mon, you're just sayin' that. You would't be by yourself with a shot of liquor you haven't even touched if you didn't want company."

When she did not reply, he continued, "I'm Leon Kuwata. 'N you?"

She sighed, turned towards the man, and rested her elbow on the table. Though he flinched from the loud noise, he remained seated and copied her gesture. If Junko were here, she would've told her to drink the shot, go get laid. But thankfully, she wasn't here at the moment.

Mukuro leaned forward, almost as though she were going for a kiss, before pulling her knife into plain sight and raising it against his throat.

"The name is Mukuro Ikusaba. If you really want to keep me company, you'll have to understand I never go anywhere without my knife."

The man quickly nodded. She let go of his neck, sheathed her knife, and turned back towards the bar.

"...Y' don't seem like the kind of girl who wants to be here, though. So why are ya?" His tone was different this time--more sincere?

"My sister dropped me off... and left."

"Well, why don't you 'n I ditch this place? It's full of boring shit anyways. We can hit the town. Go to the firing range?"

Mukuro looked up from her mesmerized pool of liquor. Without another word, he grabbed her hand and led her off from the crowds of people in yukatas and other festival attire. 

She didn't know exactly where she was going, but she wasn't nervous; she could probably take this guy down in a fistfight if she really wanted to.

Oh well. It beat staying at that festival.

[wingedenforcer]

Red string of fate

Our muses are destined to go into business with each other.

It was a simple contract, Mukuro told herself; a thirteen hour shift, for seven days. They say no rest for the wicked, after all, and if those with evil intentions would not rest, neither would Mukuro. She'd be up all night, vigilant as a hawk, her knife as sharp as its talons.

The dancer in question, whom she was supposed to be protecting, was on stage at the moment. Entertainment was not Mukuro's forte in the least, but she had to admit, the girl sure knew what she was doing. Waving her fans like water in a current, the pinkish strings flowing alongside, and her kimono crisp and bouncy. Her twin, golden pigtails, held in place by two kitten bows, bounced with each maneuver.

But she couldn't watch the girl dance all day. Mukuro still had a job to do, remember: she needed to keep watch. To make sure no one with their barrels aimed at her head would live to tell the tale. While she hated leaving her sister's side for so long, she determined that her sister would last for a few days without her.

She'd hover over her when she slept--not literally, but as close as she could without seeming strange. Occasionally, the girl threw wild insults at her, calling her a perverted lesbian, a freak with a weird tattoo, or some weird mix of names that, frankly, didn't make sense to Mukuro. But she endured, apologizing for her behavior and promising to do better. The girl would lay off for awhile, only to return even harder. 

As she turned over on her side, twiddling with her knife, Mukuro sighed. It was just a job, she told herself. Just a job.

[frommemetoyou]

Leave "Red String of Fate" in my askbox

I’ll generate a number from 1-77 (YES SEVENTY SEVEN OPTIONS!) to see what is in our muse’s destinies then I’ll write some drabble based on the number generated.

Read More

[danceofdespair-deactivated20140]

Why are you automatically assuming the worst, Big Sis Ikusaba? That’s so stupid, just like this dumb set-up! Do you actually think they’ll kill one of us if we don’t kill each other? Yeah right!

And what’s this whole thing about a motive? I doubt anyone would actually kill over whatever the motive could be. I bet it’s some amount of money or something, which, if you kill someone over it, totally isn’t worth it!

[wingedenforcer]

...It's better to assume the worst. You can try to prepare ahead of time. And... I don't know what this bear is planning, but it isn't good. It's most likely a mechanical robot of some sort... probably being controlled from a... a safehouse....

Whether or not other people decide to believe it does not concern me. I'll defend myself... and my sister... when necessary, motive or not. It all depends on these "classmates" of ours.

[danceofdespair-deactivated20140]

I can’t believe Big Bro Kuwata almost died. Not that I care if he did, since he’s only a side character, but still! Whoever put Monokuma up to this is crazy!

Besides, why should we even listen to the stuffed bear? This is just dumb!

[wingedenforcer]

......

...Obeying the rules may be the only way... we'll make it out alive... in our current situation. I'd suggest you keep your head low.

[wingedenforcer]

Okay, probably going to post an open later! And then I have a few starters for other people as well. Time to get this show on the road.

And, nice to meet you all as well! uwu~ If you want my skype you just have to ask for it!

[wingedenforcer]

{ Shadows Waiting }

Boredom was not something Mukuro was accustomed to; the emotion held no shackle on her focus and determination, and usually she found some way to keep herself busy. As time passed by, though, Mukuro found what little light remained in her eyes drained every morning when she checked the bathroom mirror. She always told herself she was simply checking for cracks or smudges, instead of looking at the failure in the reflection. Though it was a lie, and she knew it; Mukuro was not the most talented actress. Nonetheless, she carried her load every day, hiding away and avoiding most people for as long as she could. 

Of course, she eyed a few interesting people, took note of their actions, of the way they spoke and what cliques they hung around. Although Mukuro attempted to be discreet, she was certain that someone must have noticed her hanging around the Gyaru Socialite so often. Despite never coming within a certain range of feet per her orders, Mukuro would always stay by her side, a few yards away, sitting underneath a tree, at an opposite table, waiting outside the bathroom. Never too far, yet never too close as well.

A strange feeling suraced in her gut a few days prior--Mukuro ignored it. It was the first and last mistake she'd make in a string of unfortunate events to come. When she heard the announcement to make her way to the auditorium, a twitch against her pale, cracked lips signified her distrust. She almost had the intuition to simply turn away, ignore the intercom, and move on. But her sister skipped right along to the auditorium as directed, and Mukuro heaved her shoulders before following along. And, as she went, her stomach churned with uneasiness, the thought of unrest growing in her mind.

At first, when she saw the dual-colored bear, Mukuro scoffed. Her fears were nothing to worry about, and this was most likely an inauguration of some sort. The other students, however, were more easily swayed into discomfort. Mukuro soon found herself nervous as well, though her face remained as emotionless as a rock. She listened with contempt as the bear continued to ramble on, introducing himself as Monokuma, something about staying here forever, and then school being canceled. None of it concerned or frightened her, so why let it bother her? Of course, then he said... those words.

Mutual killing.

Her heartbeat froze for a moment, blood pounding harder to her head and instantly Mukuro reached for the bowie knife she kept on her person, only to realize it wasn't there. She mentally slapped herself for letting it fall out of her posession--an amateur mistake, unbefitting of a soldier such as her. Was it, perhaps, during the blackout? Did someone steal it from her while she was encased in total darkness? Nevermind that, she was facing perilous danger without the company of her trusted knife, one which had saved her life many times before; she told herself to calm down and think, but no sort of plan was coming to mind. She stood in awe, jaw hanging open for a moment, before her eyebrows furrowed in anger.

Before she could do anything about it, Leon stepped up. The fiery boy whom she had observed for awhile kicked the plush toy, rebelling against what he had just finished telling them, and suddenly a knife whizzed through the air so fast she could hardly see it. The boy sidestepped, barely avoiding death.

The bear meant serious business, without a doubt. Mukuro's mouth contorted into a snarl, but no sound came out. She remained silent and observative, two things other than fighting that she was adept at. Then, the electronic ID cards were passed out, and Mukuro quickly turned hers on and glanced over it curiously. She noticed that not only had her sister received one, but everyone else had as well; turning it on revealed her name, social status, age, creepily almost everything about her. Yet, there was also another abnormal thing under her profile.

Poirazi. What did that mean? Was this supposed to be her team name? A team was not something Mukuro was very good at working with, let alone people who didn't know how to hold a gun. After briefly looking over her card, she pocketed it and noticed her wristband had turned an odd purple-ish color. On instinct, Mukuro's gaze turned towards her sister who stood a little bit away, afraid as to what she'll see on her wrist--but she had to make sure. She had to make sure she was on the same team.

Her wristband was not the same color. A swift course of fear pumped through her veins.

They were on opposite teams.

[ken--kaneki]

by:  入谷

[p4-proswagonist]

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