Hand of Fenrir

Indie private & selective blog for MUKURO IKUSABA of the Danganronpa franchise. My portrayal of Mukuro is canon-divergent and heavily headcanon-based, so give the carrd a look before interacting! Courtesy trigger warning in advance, Danganronpa is not a hunky-dory series about sunshine and rainbows. There will be much violence and weaponry featured on this blog.

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I'm not dead, but this blog is for the time being.

This announcement is long overdue, but while I have time I figured I'd finally pop in to let y'all know. A certain select few people (not naming anyone because I'm already sick of the drama and don't want to deal with them further) very nearly killed any interest I had in writing Mukuro, or indeed any Danganronpa content. It feels almost tainted to me now and I can't draw anywhere near as much enjoyment from writing these characters as I used to. It's coming back slowly, and I very likely will return to this blog in time (because I very much prefer having Mukuro in her own space), but it likely won't be soon. I'd figure maybe July by the earliest.

I've also got crazy family issues going on, as my aunt is dying to a brain tumor & her husband, who unfortunately has power of attorney, is falsifying important documents and neglecting her, making her last days on this bitch of an Earth utterly miserable. That's just the tip of the shit iceberg. It's not been fun. Thanks to a friend in the Bleach community I'm back on Tumblr and making an attempt to get back into writing on this hellsite, as it used to be my best outlet when I was feeling overwhelmingly negative as I have been of late, so while I won't be here you can find me elsewhere if you've still any interest in writing with me. I have Mukuro and a select few of my other Danganronpa muses over at @cannonfullofcanons, my old old multimuse, recently resurrected; I'd say replies will be slow for my DR characters, but let's be real. Given circumstances, I'm gonna be slow regardless.

Cooking

It’s debatable if there’s anyone alive who is more of an absolute disaster in the kitchen than Mukuro. She never learned to use modern kitchen appliances, especially industrial appliances; instead she learned to cook in the wilderness. She can only cook over an open flame, and when she does, any meat she cooks is cooked to perfection. It just isn’t usually seasoned. She learned to cook for survival, not for taste, though deer venison is her favorite for flavor. She’s also able to cook over a very low flame, effectively making jerky. But she has absolutely zero understanding of stoves, ovens, and the like.

She tried to use them once, and only once, in her senior year at Hope’s Peak. She’d wanted to make something to share with Makoto as a thank you for some help he lent her, namely a chocolate cake, following a recipe she’d found online. Part of it called for setting a pot in the oven for an hour at a high temperature; Mukuro doubled the temperature and put it in for half the time. She also tried to cook pasta in a coffee pot with olive oil, because it said “for cooking”, though that was an unrelated experiment she attempted whilst the pot of cake batter was baking.

     Even leaving for Fenrir had been, in part, an act of loyalty to Junko. Because if she’d stayed, she would’ve killed Matsuda herself.

     Today was an unusual day, though. Usually it was Junko pushing her to do things, but today Mukuro decided she wanted to spend time with her sister. So, like a proper sibling, at 6 o’clock in the morning, Mukuro went to Junko’s bedside - and rather ungracefully flopped on top of her. She’d just finished her early morning exercises, though admittedly today she’d started earlier than usual. Just so she could wake Junko up bright and early to mess around.

     Moving back to a sitting position next to the bed, she flashes a somewhat cocky smile. “Morning. Get up or I’ll play reveille.” Such a shame Junko was the only person who got to see Mukuro’s less serious side.

     Much like she often does for Kirigiri, she’s brought a bag of coffee grounds! Her own unique blend. She wants to see if he can handle it. But then, she doesn’t know a thing about him; he might not even drink coffee. Maybe he’s one of those oddball pipe-smoking monologuing detectives, like in those old American movies. What better time to find out than right now?

     A gentle knock against the hard wood of the door, and the wait begins. Idly, she realizes she doesn’t know if he’s even in his dorm. Most usually are after dark, but some - like her - tend to wander. Maybe he’s one of those. She’d give it a few seconds more, just to be safe.

     It took some time to get it ready - she needed access to the school’s greenhouse, and the door was locked. It wasn’t supposed to be locked yet, but it was, so Mukuro began trying in various ways to get the door open. It took her an hour. Picking the lock failed, so she simply took the door off its hinges. In her defense, she’s more used to simply shooting the lock. Bullets make the best lockpicks. Then it took an additional thirty minutes to gather what she needed and get back to the dorms.

     It’s midnight by the time Mukuro arrives back in the dormitories, and the first thing she does is knock on the door labeled Kyoko Kirigiri. In her left hand is a bag of coffee grounds, and in her right hand is a mug of hot coffee. Mukuro’s own unique blend, the coffee beans used in which she grows herself. Stronger than Columbian, almost as strong as Cuban.

     Oh, she really hopes she got the blend right. This would be perfect for a detective.

     Even Junko would fairly regularly harass her about her lack of friends. Tell her she needed to get out and socialize, stop hiding in her room or in the range cleaning firearms. She’d been here over a year, after all. In truth, that was when she was at her most comfortable, either on a battlefield or otherwise; she knew weaponry inside and out, and being surrounded by such instruments of destruction was oddly comforting. Today she’d been all but dragged out of her room at Hope’s Peak to, in her words, “Stop sulking and go meet people, sis!”, so that was what she’d do. Junko usually was right about these things, even if Mukuro most certainly wasn’t sulking. In fact, she was quite active, engaging in daily training regimens on the rooftop and the dojo on the fifth floor.

     Having begun her attendance at Hope’s Peak only the year prior, she had at least spoken to her own classmates, though she felt she could hardly call any of them friends yet. All had tried to talk to her, but only a few were persistent so far: Chihiro Fujisaki, Sayaka Maizono, and Makoto Naegi. Makoto was openly a social butterfly and seemed to get along with everyone, and just the day prior Sayaka had been trying to convince Mukuro to try some brand of eyeliner she couldn’t remember, but Chihiro always seemed afraid of her. A reasonable response, given the expression she normally wore, her musculature, the scars...but Chihiro had tried to reach out anyway, and did so every day, trying to make sure she was included.

     Brave.

     In this instance, she chose to take a cue from Chihiro. Seeing a girl in the same hallway she was in, she decided she’d try to spark up a conversation. The other girl was...vaguely familiar. An underclassman, she figures. From that class with the overtly loud coach, maybe? He grated on her nerves with the constant yelling, admittedly. But then, so did Owada. Not that she ever let it show. Mukuro had had a hard lock on her emotions since she was a pre-teen, and now it was as second nature as breathing. She hardly noticed she was suppressing feelings. Often, she just felt numb. 

     Then it clicked. Tsumiki. Ultimate...Nurse, wasn’t it? Mukuro was sure she’d seen her hanging around Junko at some point or another. She was exceptional as a field medic - perhaps that would be a sufficient topic for conversation with a nurse. But how to start? Maybe she was overthinking it, maybe trying to socialize even made her a little anxious, not that she’d really recognize that feeling. Taking a breath, she opts to just...wing it. Something Mukuro ordinarily never does.

     “You’re Tsumiki, correct? Are you busy?” Maybe she’d invite her for coffee. That was a normal girl thing to do, right?