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“Hmm? That’s most unfortunate…”
“…Are you some sort of police officer, Miss?” Rather young — but the prince knew better than anyone not to judge by appearance first-hand.
❝It’s why I want this case closed and covered as quickly and efficiently as possible. These women deserve the same respect as any other.❞
❝I am a detective, actually. You won’t find me in any employee records, though—I work freelance.❞ She gave the stranger a brief once-over, internally favouring the beautiful, expensive-looking fabrics and materials she was decorated in. ❝Is there anything you know regarding this incident that may not have been picked up on?❞
❝Female employees within the red light district are being murdered for what I can only assume is due to their status as sex workers. It’s something I’m still looking into, but right now, my priority is making sure these women are safe and under my protection.❞
❝Anyone who knows of anything that could possibly be linked to these crimes is to let me know as soon as it’s possible. If you’re worried about your habits being exposed, well… the only reassurance I can offer is that most of the leads I receive will have no need to be publicly disclosed.❞
❝Having now experienced both extremes, I can safely say I much prefer a more casual birthday celebration.❞ While last years’ birthday-party-turned-drunken-stumble-around-the-office had seemed like a wonderful idea at the time, it was certainly not worth the vicious hangover Kirigiri had woken up with the following morning.
Sayaka chuckled a little. "You get used to it, eventually. Mostly because you have to." The latter comment came out more bitter than it was supposed to be. The idol hoped her smile would cover it. "But so are you, Kirigiri-san! We both work super hard, right?"
That said, she tightened her grip. “And that’s exactly why we need to relax just as much now and them. I’m happy you’re okay with that!” Smiling brightly, Sayaka simply remained close to her companion, until she went on: "How about we go shopping? I’m sure there’s something you’re dying to buy!"
Kirigiri did not miss the uneven spike of resentment simmering beneath Maizono’s foremost layer of sweetness, and thought it best to offer her what she hoped was an encouraging smile. ❝Every career has its elements we would rather miss out on. What matters most is that you strive to the best of your ability… to me, there’s no question that you do.❞
Relaxing somewhat into Maizono’s hold, she was stumped for ideas regarding anything to purchase that didn’t fall under ‘living essentials’ or ‘mildly-to-highly dangerous’. Ultimately deciding that honesty was the best policy, Kirigiri came out with the truth about her limited experience. ❝I’ll admit, I can’t remember the last time I went shopping for my own enjoyment. Did you have anything in mind?❞
role: ( ✵ ) hostwarning for Dangan Ronpa/Zero spoilers throughout this whole thread.
Mukuro Ikusaba has one goal: aiding in the Despairification of the world, as desired by Junko Enoshima. That means doing anything her sister asked, everything from shine my shoes to do my laundry to… dress up as me? It was an alien request, though she obliged because it’s Junko-chan who asked, and the obedient older sister can never say no.
It is a repeat of something she knows to be back here at Hope’s Peak, she is idle standing in her sister’s clothes parading around as someone else; it’s all part of the plan to establish certain details after the erasure of Junko’s memory, as specifically directed, though she herself is no Junko…
but this is different. She stands in the courtyard, idly twirling loose blonde curls, though time has taken to slowing: something is wrong. Everything is out of place from when she last recalled, from particular trees and tables to the very people walking around. Breathing slows, anxiety of the unpredictable tying itself around her usual composure when her blue eyes survey the setting. Lavender grabs her attention, it is an unwarranted visitor, the detective who she, in these shoes, has to ultimately avoid.
… Though this is only a repetition of what she’d witnessed before. It’s clear to anyone who knew Junko and Mukuro which was which, even dressed as one another, it was simple to Kyouko Kirigiri to figure out the soldier.
She’s dead meat if Kirigiri discovers her true intents, though it’s too late before her gentle high-heeled steps backwards force her further away from the courtyard, another Mukuro spawning in her place. An identical copy, from freckles to muscles, she begins the improvised act as if the real Mukuro hadn’t been there at all. Ryouko Otonashi enters the area, and it’s a repetition of actions and words she’d already performed. Embarrassment sets in when she realizes the detective is in speaking distance, captivation in that moment occupying her entirely for a brief moment. ❝ I’m sorry… ❞ she instantly apologizes to Kirigiri, crossing arms over chest self-consciously; it is not the first time her peer witnessed her like this, though in this light she is hardly proud and boisterous like the girl she was pretending to be. She cannot help but lock eyes on the scenario before them when the eerie, amnesiac version of her sister is being bullied by the disguised sister - only because it’s part of the grand scheme Mukuro doubted.
role: ( ✴ ) passenger
a needle pulling thread - Kirigiri slips through the darkness like silk, like water. Physical substance is a dandelion clock in the breeze and her consciousness accepts this newfound state of being without question, accepts it as if it were a dream. Colours flash and flicker like dying lightbulbs, all sea green and brilliant saffron, before falling flat onto something resembling a surface and spreading like spilt ink.
Kirigiri is suddenly aware that she can see—and if she can see, she must have eyes. And if she has eyes, then—a corporal form? A world is building itself around her, she realizes. There’s a feeling like velvet snagging on broken glass, and all at once she finds herself on her knees, enveloped by a harsh and overwhelming sense of reality.
Disorientated, she doesn’t stand immediately. Rationality syringes into her like power through a live wire and Kirigiri breathes, eventually getting to her feet and taking stock of the situation (still fully dressed and no injuries to speak of, it would seem). It’s.. well, it’s Hope’s Peak, and that in itself is enough to raise an eyebrow, but it’s also… not. She knows so. Something about her surroundings seem false, if her arrival here wasn’t already proof enough.
Something shifts to her right and Kirigiri looks around sharply – it’s Ikusaba. There are two of Ikusaba Mukuro, one having materialized into her previous place as the other falls back, her movements more fluid and genuine than the first. She’s steady-footed, unsurprising for someone of her proficiency, but her expression doesn’t match that carefulness.
It’s only when Otonashi Ryouko appears that a switch flicks inside Kirigiri’s head. She steps forward tentatively, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible, and Ikusaba seems to have noticed her, for she hears the projectile apology without even seeing the soldier’s lips move. There’s a silence as the scene around them shimmers and shines like flexing plastic. Nobody besides Mukuro has made the slightest action to suggest that their presence is out of the ordinary, so Kirigiri wonders if anyone else is self-aware, or if they are simply watching the past replay with no means of interrupting it.
Momentarily disregarding the unfolding incident, Kirigiri moves a little closer to the other woman’s side. ”Personally, Ikusaba-san… I don’t think an apology is necessary.”