Tsumugi Shirogane in - "The Cosplayer's New Clothes"

The Ultimate Cosplayer, Tsumugi Shirogane, watched Monokuma's announcement end with a nonplussed expression, casting her dull green eyes at the ceiling as she crossed her arms and pondered. Unlike some other students, she wasn't concerned about finding an alternate use for her talents. She didn't have any need to join into the groups of incredible students gathering to work out how they could use their unique expertise for something mundane. From her own perspective, her ultimate focus was something anyone could (and should) do, and she often mused over how amazing it was for her to be revered and given opportunities for something as ordinary and essential to her as breathing.

A tall beauty with long blue hair and a natural smile, Tsumugi would stand out in any ordinary classroom. In Hope's Peak Academy, however, she faded into the background remarkably, almost supernaturally. She was one of the few students who wore only a lightly customized uniform, a dark blazer and skirt over a white blouse and orange bow. Her bookish glasses and relatively timid personality (at least on the surface) tended to keep her out of the spotlight, well behind the more eccentric personalities in her class. She wasn't disliked and she wasn't hard to get along with, but she didn't seek out conversations or events either: after all, she had a backlog of cosplay costumes she needed to work on and the latest chapter of her favorite light novel waiting in her schoolbag.

Right now, those fictional worlds were calling to her more strongly than an assignment she had a week on. She'd slung her bag over her shoulder and risen to her feet when she suddenly heard her name called. An approximation of her name, at least.

"Yo, Mugi!" The blonde-headed fashionista, Junko, was shouting her name, waving, and standing meaningfully between Tsumugi and the exit. "Wait up a sec! I've got a little proposition for you."

Tsumugi flinched for a moment, feeling a strange sensation like deja vu shoot through her. She always thought this day would come, somehow. Junko was a fashionista, and she herself was a clothing designer; it always seemed natural that the two of them would cross paths in business before they graduated. She put her feelings about it aside and offered a smile. "Of course, Junko. I was just about to head out. What can I do for you?"

"No no no, let's talk about what I can do for you." Junko replied with a big, toothy grin. "Mr. Monokuma's assignment. I actually have a great idea for some trouble two fashion-minded Ultimates like us can get into right away. Sounds good, right? You and I can get this pain-in-the-ass field assignment out of the way right now, then kick our feet up with two weeks to write our papers. You can even introduce me to some of those nerd books you read in the time we have left over. I'll be your captive audience. You in?"

"Um, gosh. I don't know," Tsumugi replied, the apology of rejection already in her tone. "I wasn't picturing doing anything too flashy... Maybe some advertisement at a book or games store? I'm sure that isn't your, um, scene..."

"Huuuh?!" The fashionista suddenly shifted in mood, giving her a glare. "What the hell do you think you know about my scene?!" When she saw Tsumugi struggling for a response, she easily returned to her grin. "Kidding, I'm kidding! Just don't shoot me down before you've heard me out. Listen, I'm gonna match your geek and do you one better. Forget books and games and your other typical junk. How about theater? There's a new one for you and me, huh? But I heard that ratty-ass theater in town is looking for a costume designer. Now, it's work I could do alone, but the time sure would pass faster with a gal pal. C'mooon, don't leave me hangin'!"

"You're sure? With a power level like yours, it feels like you hardly need a Nappa to your Vegeta."

"See? That's what I mean! I'm not gonna learn a fashion-forward thing working at some dusty dump, but if you're there, at least I get to learn what a 'Vegeta' is. Tell me you're in."

Surprising even herself, Tsumugi nodded along. As the conversation had continued, she'd been becoming more and more convinced that Junko was the type of "normie" she'd had good instinct to avoid. This last thought had changed her mind, however. The chance to spread her gospel of fictional characters with someone uninitiated and receptive had its hook in her. "All right, you've convinced me. I'm in! And you can bet I'll take you up on that offer to talk your ear off."

"Wouldn't have it any other way, Mugi." She slapped a hand on Tsumugi's back, jostling her glasses. "Trust me, you won't regret it!"

---

During the walk into town, Tsumugi took full advantage of Junko's expressed interest in learning about anime. Since it had come up before, she's started out right in the middle of the Saiyan saga of Dragon Ball Z, giving Junko a breathless run through all the major players. Her uninitiated student had been surprisingly receptive, although she seemed determined to keep Tsumugi on the narrow focus of helping her understanding the arc's villains. For her part, Tsumugi was just as happy to delve into particulars. She was speaking with urgency and emphatic arm sweeps, as if she was possessed by the spirit of the anime's recap announcer. "Then Nappa, who's been wiping the floor with all of the Z fighters, is unable to stand! Then he reaches out a hand to Vegeta and begs for help! And then, when Vegeta reaches out a hand to help him out... He tosses him into the air!" The character's sinister glee seemed to reflect on Tsumugi's face as she mimicked the gesture. "He eviscerates his own ally with a beam attack! That's the pride of the Prince of Saiyans, a man who can't tolerate weakness in his race!! Junko, I thought it was plain crazy!"

Junko had been nodding along, interested, but at a calmer level than her classmate. "Huh. So the Vegeta dude, he goes on to win? He kills everyone? Heck of a way to end a story."

"No, of course not! Goku beats Vegeta with the help of his friends," Tsumugi corrected her. "This scene just establishes his heartless nature-"

"Laaame!" Junko interrupted, crossing her arms behind her head and walking with her eyes shut. "I thought you said that guy was the big shot! If he loses, what good is all that pride? Quote me on this one, Mugi- on a battlefield, pride's the first sacrifice you make. I know it might not be good 'writing' or whatever, but if Vegeta and Nappa had done work on those guys as a unit, the series would be way shorter. I know it's cheesy, but like... Goku won cause he had allies, Vegeta lost cause he had pride. That's how I see it."

Tsumugi was taken back by her student's investment, but something else had her attention. "You... know a lot about battlefields, Junko?

"Yeah, of course! Don't know how it is in your circles, but the fashion world's cutthroat. Plenty of models with knives in their backs. Never hurts to have friends in your corner. Oh! This is the place." She came to a sudden stop in her gait and paused, pivoting with a hand on her hip.

Tsumugi turned with her. Then, she turned back to her with a small giggle. When she didn't see Junko break out that easy grin of hers, her own faltered. "Um... This.... is the theater?"

It was an understandable question. The ancient dump they'd stopped at looked like it desperately needed either a repair crew or a wrecking ball before it recruited a costume designer. It looked like it was from another era... in more ways than one. The posters on the outside of the building were dusty and torn to the point of barely being there, but the fragments remaining seemed to show actresses exclusively. There was a lot of skin-colored print, but what really raised red flags were the expressions. There were the expected photogenic smiles, but also a fair number of surprised "o's." Tsumugi didn't have a modern cultural touchpoint for it, except maybe some comedy manga. The bits of words she could see were concerning: "-- Bares it all!--" "--Five saucy skits!--" "Laugh until you cry!" The faded last word somehow didn't look like "cry," but that was the only conclusion that came to Tsumugi. She turned to Junko with clear concern.

Junko answered by pushing the door open fearlessly. "Yep. This is the one. One look tells you why they'd want to have the good press of two Ultimates on their staff." When she turned and saw Tsumugi dragging her feet, still searching for meaning in the tattered posters, she gave her a wry smile and rolled her eyes. "I'm not blind. I know this place is a dump, but that's a great angle for our papers! The two of us will class up this joint. Now, after you."

Tsumugi gave her an awkward smile. Not wanting to be a buzzkill after Junko had patiently let her talk her ear off, the cosplayer scooched past her classmate and into the decrepit theater with no idea of what kind of lobby she was about to enter. When her eyes adjusted, however, what she saw was nothing she could have imagined.

The inside of the theater was completely different from the outside. It seemed dusty and empty as she'd expected, sure, but everything seemed to be otherwise in perfect order. Yes, all of the architecture had a strange Western quality to it, but all of the furnishings and equipment looked more or less modern to her untrained eye. There was even a concession stand with working machines, although there wasn't a worker in sight. Furthermore, there was surprisingly little of that decoration that had adorned the outside of the theater on its inner walls... Almost as if visitors were supposed to have their eyes caught by something else instead.

There was one unusual decoration that caught Tsumugi's eyes. When she looked closer, squinting behind her frames, she realized it wasn't a decoration at all. Rather, it was a very ornate placard with a brassy finish and engraved letters. Tsumugi was expecting to see the names of patrons of the theater or maybe famous actors and actresses who had performed here before. What she read instead raised even more of those funny flags in her head.

RULES OF THE THEATER

Theater rules are to be obeyed at all times by all parties, actresses, stagehands, floor staff, employees, or patrons. Failure to follow the rules of the theater will result in severe punishment at the discretion of the Owner.

REMEMBER - Attending the theater is a privilege. Working at the theater is also a privilege.

1. Respect the Owner at all times.
2. Actresses shall always act in a manner that pleases the Owner.
3. Actresses shall always behave in a manner that pleases the Owner.
4. Actresses shall always speak in a manner that pleases the Owner.
5. Actresses shall always dress in a manner that pleases the Owner.
6. Actresses shall never attempt to exit the theater.

The list went on, and on, and on, and on, longer than she cared to read. The placard was enormous, the size one would expect for rules for a pool where they were a matter of life safety; yet, the letters were tiny. Tsumugi wasn't squinting because her eyesight was bad: her glasses, after all, were for fashion. She was squinting to make out the increasingly concerning list of rules that had been posted. Her head was spinning with all sorts of thoughts about what she was looking at, refusing to interpret what she seeing as literal. Instead, she found herself searching it as if it were a puzzle, looking for one line that made sense to reveal that all the other lines were a joke or a trick. Finally, skimming through them all, she reached the end: "'New rules may be added at the discretion of the Owner at any time, and all parties are expected to heed them without question,'" she muttered aloud. "But that's plain crazy... s-somebody engraved all of these, and there's no more room on the plaque! How would the theater owner add any more rules if he wanted to...?"

Junko had been glaring around the room and looking uneasy, her eyes darting to the dark corners. Somehow, she seemed more surprised by what she was seeing than Tsumugi. When she was spoken to, however, she locked her eyes back on her classmate and seemed to remember she was supposed to be smiling. "Forget that. The Owner here's just a little eccentric, is all. Loves jokes."

"Oh. You've met him, then?"

"Of course!" Junko flashed her partner a peace sign, a gesture that was probably supposed to be comforting but came off as a little stilted without proper context. "Of course I met him, otherwise how would I set this up? Aaanyway..." The pale young woman frowned as she scanned the theater. "The path to the stage and the balcony are roped off and dark. I've got a feeling we're supposed to follow the lights. You first, okay?"

Tsumugi nodded and led the way. "I'm actually pretty good with spooky stuff. I've read so much occult manga, even a ghost would be ordinary to me." She wasn't calm, but she was curious. "If you find any crimson butterflies, don't follow them..."

The two made no further conversation as they headed down the one lit hall. It seemed this place was slightly larger than it looked on the outside, but only a bit. Their path continued past a number of dark, uninviting doorways before reaching the one that was lit. A placard next to it referred to it as "DRESSING." A more promising taped notice on the shut door read "INTERVIEWS." Tsumugi gave it a small knock out of politeness. She'd be very surprised to learn that there were any interviews in progress besides her own.

"Come in," an older gentleman's voice replied from within.

Tsumugi opened the door, intending to hold it for Junko and return the favor from earlier. When she did, she was surprised to find her classmate's surprisingly firm fingertips pressing into her back from behind and urging her forward. No, not just urging-- the **** was practically a shove.

The cosplayer heard a slam behind her as she tried to gather her bearings in the unfamiliar dressing room. It was both surprising and unsurprising: once again, it was decked out in modern conveniences (up to and including a minifridge!) that belied the theater's outer appearance as a misplaced historical landmark; however, that same creepy feeling she'd gotten earlier looking at the posters was coming back to her. There were only a few costumes on display mannequins in the room, looking forgotten and tucked-away in a corner, but for a seasoned cosplayer looking for work as the theater's costume designer, she could hardly miss them. Although they were small, they were certainly eye-catching... Two were pirate costumes, one a captain and one, in Tsumugi's head, a first mate, both united in the fact that they had plunging necklines on the tight shirts and booty-coverage on the shorts. Then there was an outfit that looked like a kind of sequined bikini, covered in decorative beads and tassels. Looking at the plumed headgear, Tsumugi finally made the connection that it must be what she'd heard called "samba," not that she had any experience with it. It painted a bizarre picture of what kinds of performances this theater was accustomed to hosting. She might not know anything about plays, but how many, classic or modern, would feature a samba dancer on the cast?

The costumes had been so distracting that she'd failed to notice the most alarming feature of the room she'd been **** into. She was alone. Putting aside that Junko had apparently decided to press her into a solo interview with their mysterious and eerie benefactor, the man himself was nowhere to be seen. She'd definitely heard a voice before entering...

"Admiring the costumes, are we? Those are some of my favorites. Classics, from another time. You must be dying to try one on, hmhmhm..."

Tsumugi jumped, her eyes searching for where the voice was coming from. Finally, she relaxed: there was a speaker in a high corner of the room, the kind used for announcements. That made sense... She was sure there was a camera around here, too, some place she wasn't seeing. Ignoring that, now that she knew she was just dealing with an eccentric old man and not a ghost of some sort, Tsumugi needed to turn back to the interview at hand and correct his mistaken impression. "Gosh, no! I-I mean, certainly, yes, they're, um... interesting... b-but not for me! I'd die if I had to dress like that on a stage in front of an audience. I'm here to interview as a costume designer, not an actress. I'm Tsumugi Shirogane. Junko's friend?"

"... Hmph! I'm quite fond of my own idea work in the costume department, thank you. I'm afraid we're well-staffed in that regard. Still, I sense that there may be work at this theater for someone of your... qualifications, hmhm. We're very comfortable with amateur performers. Why, in my mind, most all actresses are amateurs before I get to work on them. Now, speaking of that work, I simply must see you in one of these outfits. Which will it be? Or do you want me to choose?"

The student had been fighting a funny feeling since this had first started, but only now was she starting to suspect she'd fallen victim to a classmate's prank. She didn't know Junko well, after all, and this perverted old man seemed as confused as she was about her role here. She sighed, tightened her lips, and planted her fists on her hips. "I don't know what Junko told you about my work as a cosplayer, but I don't just put on any costume anyone asks me to. Besides, I'm not going to change in front of you. It's plain obvious you have cameras in here."

"I do not," the voice spoke dryly.

Tsumugi rolled her eyes at the obvious lie.

There was a long pause. When the voice began again, it was in a different tone... Almost reconciliatory, but with something else below the surface. "Look. I believe we may have gotten off on the wrong foot. The truth of the matter is this theater is in ****, dire need of actresses and staff. We are, unfortunately, in no need of a costume designer, but let's work this out. Miss Shirogane, what is it you do exactly? You referred to yourself as a 'cusp layer' before?"

The young woman adjusted her glasses, realizing she was about to have a second unexpected opportunity to spread gospel to a normie in a single day. "I said 'cosplayer.' The word comes from 'costume play.' I design costumes of fictional characters from games, anime, cartoons, and other media. People wear them for events, for photography, or any other number of reasons. For me, the main reason is love! Love for fictional characters, wanting to feel closer to them and share them with others."

"Yes... Yes, I believe you and I aren't so separate, after all. I also love the fictional characters I create in my works. Far preferable to the prudish, fussing talents I've dealt with in the past... Fictional characters are nicer. Simpler. All of the body and entertainment with none of the ego."

Tsumugi thought about mentioning that she tended to prefer some characters with flaws or complexities, but thought there was no reason to delve into that. She'd been happy to share her interests with a young woman the same age as her, but she could tell this unseen old man, who was hardly masking some deep and serious perversion, had little in common with her.

"You like simple characters too, don't you, Miss Shirogane?! Come now, don't be shy. Tell me about a simple character you like, from one of those cartoons you enjoy. Tell me what she wears, and I'll see if we have a costume your size. I'll learn a little about your work and interests while you learn plenty about mine, hmhmhm..."

Simple characters... Tsumugi crossed her arms, giving it some thought. Even characters that looked simple were rarely that simple when you spent as much time as she did thinking about them. Putting herself in the headspace of her cosplay characters was something she prided herself in, after all. Still, she supposed some were simpler than others. She was hopeful that by giving him a recognizable one, he'd get the picture and understand cosplay costumes weren't the kind of thing a Western-styled theater was likely to have just hanging in a closet somewhere. She swallowed her discomfort and gave an answer. "Usagi Tsukino. You might know her as Sailor Moon? Or maybe she was Serena where you saw her... She's a Japanese schoolgirl who's secretly the Guardian of Love and Justice, fighting evil. She's ditzy and clumsy, but she accepts an incredible mantle of responsibility and protects her friends-"

"Sailor Moon. I like it. Describe her. Does she have a uniform? A catchphrase?"

"So superficial..." Tsumugi inwardly fumed, apologizing to the classic anime protagonist for how the nuances of her character were being brushed over. "Yes, she has a uniform and a catchphrase. She's only one of the most famous manga protagonists of all time, so I'm sure you've seen her, even if you didn't realize it. Blonde hair in two long twintails with distinct buns? A gold tiara? A white sleeveless sailor uniform, like a leotard with a big red bow and a heart-shaped locket? A super short blue skirt and tall red boots-"

"Yes, yes, I believe I've got it. Intriguing. Sounds like an absolutely garish hodgepodge. Fascinating... The catchphrase?"

The cosplayer was determined to give an accurate performance as an apology for her overly-succinct explanation of the character. Tsumugi was, of course, not an actress or even a voice actress, but she played roles all the time for cosplay. As such, she gave her best attempt to recall the classic line she'd heard so many times. "Ahem. I am the Pretty Guardian who Fights for Love and for Justice. I am Sailor Moon! And now in the name of the moon, I will punish you!" It was a little embarrassing, saying it out of cosplay and even doing the poses, but when she thought of how the awkward Usagi had said it so many times, she had the conviction to get through it.

"Ahahaha!! Very good. Aren't you embarassed to be saying things like that at your age? 'The Pretty Guardian,' indeed! Bwahaha...!! B-but, yes, you're very convincing. You have me fully convinced, and I've taken my notes."

Tsumugi didn't appreciate being laughed at. Yes, it was embarrassing, but he was the one who had asked... besides, she'd really put all of her effort into that unpracticed impression and thought she'd pretty well nailed it. "Yes, please, look it up. Sailor Moon is just plain fascinating for anybody. As for me, I'm sure Junko's been waiting a while now for her interview, so I really ought to be going. I appreciate the opportunity, but if you don't have a place for a costume designer, I don't think this is going to be a fit." The cosplayer gave the politest smile she could along with a small bow as she turned and reached for the door knob.

It didn't budge. She hadn't heard it lock... Who would have locked it? Junko? Why would Junko have had a key?

The voice in the room with her cackled, apparently in response to her dawning uncomfortable realization. "Not a fit? Ohoho no, oh no no no no, Miss Shirogane! I told you, didn't I? I have many roles to fill in the theater, especially for troublesome rulebreakers like you!"

"'R-r-rulebreakers?!' I swear, I just walked in here! I didn't even touch anything!" Tsumugi banged on the door, trying to get Junko to open it from the other side. "If this is about your behavior, Mr. Owner, or um, how I reacted... D-don't even worry about it! I understand you're from a different culture... Th-this is just a culture clash situation, right? I'm sure your behavior is totally ordinary where you're from! I'm not going to tell anyone about it, honestly!"

"Yes, rulebreaker, I said 'rulebreakers.' You didn't see the incredibly large, clearly-posted rules upon entering the theater? Well, Miss Shirogane, allow me to enlighten you. Ahem-hem. Talking back to the Owner. Refusing to dress as the owner wishes. Attempting to exit the theater. And, why, look at you now! Attempting to open locked doors in the theater, attempting to damage theater property! Those are punishable even for patrons. My, my, I took you for the geeky stays-out-of-trouble sort, when in fact you're already up to all kinds of mischief. Punishable mischief, punishable at my discretion."

Tsumugi gulped with a dry throat, searching the room fruitlessly with eyes wide behind her glasses. What kind of situation was this...? "This is... modern day Japan! A strange man can't just lock you in a theater with a goofy trick, without any armed goons or **** or anything. But it's true that nobody knows I'm here besides Junko, who probably had something to do with setting this up. I need to do something. I can just... Right! I almost forgot it because it's so against the classic horror tropes. I still have my phone. I can just... subtly... call for help..." As carefully as she could, she slipped her hand into her jacket pocket, where she kept her cell phone. The obnoxious voice was rattling on and on, pleased with itself. It seemed about as distracted as she could ask for. But how was she supposed to dial an appropriate emergency number without looking at her screen? She tried to reason out the series of presses she'd have to make-

"What are you doing there with your hands in your pockets? Now, now. That's no way to appear confident on your important interview day! Miss Shirogane, show me what you have in your hands, please."

For just a moment, she tried to consider if there was a way to play a trick on him. Then, she realized there was no point. What card did her captor have to play, here? He wasn't in the room with her, and if she was looking at her phone, she'd be able to dial the number before he could sick a door guard on her, or whatever else he had planned... "As long as it wasn't some kind of gas trap," she couldn't stop herself from adding as her imagination involuntarily summoned tropes to threaten her with. Ignoring that, she whipped out the cell phone. Not being certain where his camera was in the room, she held it out screen-first to the room at large, waving it like a cross in an exorcism movie. "I have a phone! And... Oh, oh no!" she suddenly started, turning the screen to face her. She gasped in relief as she saw bars. "Aha! And it does have cell service! I don't know what you think you're doing here, but... I wanna leave, right now! If I call the police, they're going to have a few things to say about your attempted **** of a Hope's Peak Academy student! It's not too late to... T-too late to...!"

Suddenly, she found herself in a strange position of trying to clutch her phone more tightly. With no apparent causation, it felt unexpectedly slippery. Her brain tried to reason out what was happening. Was she **** after all, and losing her grip? Was gravity being reversed? Was her captor using some sort of power?

Eventually, she realized the phone wasn't actually slipping from her grasp: it was being suddenly and powerfully pulled from her. The young woman had never had to use two hands to wrestle her own cell phone from the air, and she wasn't prepared to do so in the moment. Before she could grasp either her phone or her situation, the former had hopped from her grip like a fleeing creature.

Her eyes nearly crossed, focusing on the cell phone floating six inches from her face. "It's... it's a Stand?!?!" she shouted suddenly and dramatically, backing up from it until she was pressed to the door behind her.

Her situation became even more bizarre as she saw her glasses float from her face to join her cell phone, both of which had begun bobbing playfully around the room. Ignoring the growing laughter from the voice all around her, she made a grab for her cell phone and cursed herself for not using it right away. Every time her hand swiped, her target would bob up just out of reach, toying with her. She was fairly tall, but the ceiling was...

... The ceiling was... gone?!

She'd been so distracted with her immediate concern that she'd failed to realize the room had transformed. Although the area around her was still affected by a light source like the drab fluorescents that had existed moments ago, the area above her gave way to impossibly high rafters that seemed to stretch beyond the limits of the four walls. There, floating among them, were some small sticks in the shapes of x's, twitching erratically. They were like butterflies... or spiders.

Finally, Tsumugi saw the strings. Strings were attached to her floating phone and glasses! As though something had been waiting for her to come to that realization, her phone finally stayed within her grasp, allowing her to wrap two hands around it...

Before suddenly, powerfully zipping upward, like a fishing line reeling in. "This is plaaaaainyaaaah!!" she yelped, unable to form a proper exclamation, nonetheless an anime reference, as she was snared up into the strange rafters that had appeared.

From that point on, it was no longer possible to anchor what she was or wasn't seeing in any real world point of reference. For one thing, everything had gone completely dark. For another thing, she'd let go of the phone, only to find she wasn't obeying the laws of gravity and plummeting dangerously back to the room she'd left. Instead, she was being assaulted by a series of things sweeping her in the dark, picking and pecking at her in the same way she imagined being attacked by a school of piranhas must feel. Except, to her surprise, there was no pain... Only a completely disorienting series of unseen strings whirling all around her. In spite of all the manga she'd read, she found she didn't have the imagination to picture what was happening to her body. At the very least, she was glad she wasn't crashing into the rafters she'd seen, nor anything else.

That was spoken too soon. Before she knew it, she was crashing flat into a wood-planked ceiling. She quickly realized what she'd run into wasn't a ceiling, but a floor. She'd completely lost her orientation while airborne. Tsumugi didn't have the bandwidth to appreciate that her momentum had been braked before the point of impact; it was still a rude conclusion to her unwanted trip. She held her head dizzily and tried to get to her feet. "What...? Have I been taken to another world? Where's my cute Goddess? What's my cheat skill?"

The first thing was to figure out where the heck she was. The answer was simple, yet unbelievable: since she had the context that she was in a theater, the platform she was standing on could only be a stage. The surroundings were so dark that she couldn't make out if there was audience seating, as one might expect, nor any exits beyond. If there were, they weren't lit by any modern signage. When she looked up, she could see the rafters and a spotlight trained on her... that made sense when standing on a stage, although considering what she could guess of the floor layout, it hardly explained how she'd been pulled upward and ended up here. When she looked to either side, she could see the open curtains, royal red and expensive. They weren't covered in dust like much of this place was, as if they'd recently been moved.

More pressingly, there was an item on stage with her. It was disturbingly human height, covered with a paint-covered tarp as one might use for prop art. Before her eyes, seemingly by magic (but more likely by magic strings), the covering threw itself off and drifted lazily to the stage floor...

Beneath it was a person who looked just as disoriented as Tsumugi felt. She was a tall woman with big teal eyes. Her strangely familiar face, however, was quickly passed over in face of what she was wearing. It was... what was it? The outfit, too, looked like nothing Tsumugi had seen before, and yet somehow uncanny. The woman's long blue hair was done in two big, thick ponytails, like the hairstyle of the dancer Tsumugi knew, and her head was topped by a cheap-looking tiara one might see on a ballerina costume. The neck had a choker with a big red bow, inlaid with tacky, heart-shaped fake jewelry. She was wearing a white leotard, but, ironically, not one that gave the impression of a ballerina; it had a collar like a classic American Navy sailor uniform, but also had a daring plunging neckline and incredibly high leg openings. Tsumugi winced as she tried to imagine the wedgie that must accompany wearing it... It had a blue skirt, but the skirt rode at the hips way below the leg lines and was so short as to be more of a decoration, only covering the very intersection of the legs and lower body. She had red rainboots that looked like, once again, another genre of outfit, like something that belonged on a clown.

Tsumugi had two incredible revelations that made her feel a double gut punch of sickness all at once. She wasn't sure which was worse.

The first... was that the thing this woman was wearing, this horrible outfit... was supposed to be Sailor Moon cosplay. Maybe the kind some misguided director would order his costume designer to come up with after a tragic game of telephone, the kind audiences everywhere would complain about online and laugh about while they hate-watched.

The second... was that this woman... was her?

Tsumugi saw the other woman, her reflection in a mirror, touch her head as the color drained from her face. Then, suddenly, the two of them laughed a little unsteadily. "Ha... ha ha... N-no, isn't me. It isn't me because.... B-because..." She didn't finish the sentence. Instead, she continued laughing as her hands traveled slowly downward to confirm what couldn't be true.

As her reflection's hands reached their leotard-flossed backside, so did her own reach hers. They were reaching it unexpectedly earlier, because while the rest of the reflection was already a kind of hideous nightmare, the portion around the hips was another funhouse mirror distortion entirely. The woman in the reflection had a disproportionately big behind, visible even when looking at her from the front. Tsumugi could feel the broad and nearly-bare surface of it, barely split by the tight leotard coverage and garnished by the fringe-like skirt. She could feel her hands sinking into what must be her own skin.

"Well?" a voice, projecting from unseen corners and echoing from the ambience, suddenly joined her delirious and erratic chuckles in the auditorium. "I told you I was quite a hand at costume design. Why, without ever seeing your little cartoon, I've near-instantly created a perfect recreation of this Sailor Moon you described. And may I say, you are quite a stunning fit for it. Well, the bits of you that fit in it, anyway! Hahahaaaa!!"

Tsumugi's emotion was overpowering the part of her that was still reeling from coming to terms with the fantastic ****, teleportation, and transformation she'd thus far experienced. The mirror reflected her quivering lip and the sweat breaking out on her forehead. "Th-th-this is... This is disgusting! I c-c-can't be seen wearing this! This is sick! Your outfit is... a crime against cosplay fashion! It's worse than a pornography version, it's... t-tasteless and vile! Do you want me to draw you a picture?! There's so much that's just plain wrong about it!"

"Ho!! You're quite feistier than I expected on this matter. Name one thing that's wrong with it."

"Name one thing that's right about it! The hair is still my own boring shade of blue, and the thickness of the ponytails, and the- the- the everything!! I'm going to throw up."

"Oh dear. And I was so certain I had gotten the details correct. You said 'two long twintails with distinct buns?' Well, the twintails couldn't be much bigger, and, on that note, just look at how distinct those buns of yours are, hahahaa!! Quite eye-catching in that bit of buttfloss. You're pulling it off, I must say."

As she gradually began to accept this nightmare was real, Tsumugi was becoming more aware of the very real wedgie she was ascribing to another woman before. She worked to unsettle it indiscreetly as she spoke; there was no point in trying to be subtle about any uncouth movements while she looked like this. Meanwhile, she shouted up into the rafters. "Blonde!! I said Usagi is blonde, and her hair has buns in it! Two big, ball-shaped buns, one on either side! Of course I wasn't talking about her butt, you... you monster! It's plain disrespectful to call this half-hearted thrift sale of costume pieces and magic tricks a cosplay."

"Oh, why didn't you say so?! You're right, you did say blonde, and I love blondes, especially ditzy ones. I should have taken care of that for you. Allow me to do so now.

"N-no, don't... don't touch me!" Tsumugi started to complain, looking both ways for some sort of figure to emerge from the darkness. Because she was only looking ahead of her, she was unprepared to stop what was coming. Something buzzing was descending from the rafters. Tsumugi didn't notice until it was already casting a shadow on her. It swept across her hair in a dive like an especially large insect. When she turned around, she didn't manage to see it, but what she did see... there was suddenly a mess of blue residue on the stage floor. Shavings.

Alarmed, Tsumugi put her hand to the crown of her head. She was touching skin. When she looked in the mirror, she saw it: she'd been given a reverse mohawk, an strip inverted out of the real estate of her normally well-kept hair. The culprit was a flying over-sized electric razor. No, not flying. It was propelled by those strings, like most everything else. Before she could react, it had swooped in for another cut, managing to lop off another significant strip, one that also severed the tie on her left ponytail and allowed it to droop into a lopsided curtain framing her terrified face and her rapidly balding crown.

In terror, Tsumugi couldn't look away. She couldn't seem to move her arms to defend herself or cover her remaining hair, either. As though her reflection was a car crash she couldn't look away from, Tsumugi's wide and frightened eyes watched as the razor continued zipping through her hairdo and demolishing it, the dull buzz competing with her tormentor's twisted laughter at his handiwork for the most traumatizing noise in the theater. Because she couldn't do anything else, the unwilling cosplayer tried to inspect her reflection more closely to confirm her fear. She couldn't actually see what she was most afraid of, but she could tell it was there. The razor was having to weave about and around as if trying to dodge invisible strings. That meant... she couldn't turn her head, because...

"All done! Say, isn't that much more convenient for a cosplayer?"

Tsumugi was snapped back into reality as the razor went still and the voice gloated. The work of that sinister pair was done. The cosplayer had always prided herself in having a hairstyle that was plain enough to avoid standing out among her peers, but well-maintained to be adjusted for any number of cosplays. As long as she was okay with wigs, maintaining it would no longer be a concern-- her dome was now cut buzz short, covered in a barely-there faint blue fuzz. She remained speechless and dry-throated as the razor was pulled up into the rafters and replaced by something expected, yet impossible.

A wig... a perfect recreation of Usagi's hair from Sailor Moon. As it lowered itself and fit to her head, Tsumugi reflected that she wondered if she could have made the popular manga character's "meatball-head" hairstyle better if she'd been doing it herself. Somehow, that made it even more painful when she saw it in place, clashing in color with her thin blue eyebrows, the totally inappropriate outfit, and a massive ass Usagi had definitely never sported outside of the dark corners of hentai.

Tsumugi began tearing up. "Please. I can't take this anymore. Whatever rules I broke, I'm sorry... W-what do you need from me? Money to repair your theater? I'm f-famous outside of here! I'm sure I can... p-p-pay you, somehow." Even as Tsumugi said it, she found herself wincing and tightening her lip. What manga had she ever read where "I can pay you" worked against a supernatural entity like she was clearly facing now? Sure enough, as she heard the laughter continue without interruption, she gave up hope on that outcome. "Just... um... w-why me? I'm so gosh-darn plain... Everyone at the school is so much more interesting or prettier than me, even Junko herself! I don't understand why you'd want to humiliate me like this..."

The voice's raucous laughter turned to a smug chuckle. "Oh, you actresses. You always make it all about you. You swaggered into my theater thinking you were some untouchable bigshot, didn't you. Some 'Ultimate' from a famous academy? But you weren't even a neophyte, you were a total amateur, completely unprepared to stand on my stage until I took you under my loving care. And after such a short time, such results! Yes, it's been a while since I had a humbled blonde starlet under my power. You're starting to look like a real actress worthy to stand on my stage. Before long, you'll be appearing before crowds filling the seats, clapping and hooping and hollering, bringing this place back to life as my new star!!"

Tsumugi had heard and seen her share of unbelievable things that day, but what he'd just said still took the cake. "Me?! Your star?! I can't. N-n-no. No way! I don't even like appearing in my own cosplay in front of an audience. I'll die if you put me in front of a crowd, honest. I can't act. I'm not sure I could breathe."

"Ah, well, I'd appreciate it if you'd give it your best shot. Why don't you now, actually? Fire off that catchphrase you said Sailor Moon uses. I'm sure you'll find it easier than you think."

The cosplayer gulped, trying to decide on the best course of action. She wasn't kidding when she said she thought she'd be a poor actress, and she didn't think she could pull off a good performance in this situation, even with a gun pointed at her. On the other hand, the outfit she'd been **** into hardly suggested the unseen Owner expected quality acting. The important thing was not to defy him. She had to at least give it a try, and hope that he'd understand from her shakiness how he was making an impossible ask. So, she made a weak effort, no longer worried about disgracing Usagi, only concerned with trying to satisfy the magic puppeteer tormenting her. "I am... the P-P-Pretty Guardian who Fights for Love... and for Justice. I am Sailor Moon. A-And... now, in the name of the moon, I will punish...!"

A huge yawn echoed around her. "Oh, no no no, Miss Shirogane. That's not the way we do it at this theater at all. Well, I did say you're an amateur... Luckily, we provide on-the-job training. Let's give it another run. This time, I'll direct."

Tsumugi wasn't sure what she was supposed to be waiting for, so she waited for some direction to start. She waited, and listened, and grinned.

Grinned?

Tsumugi saw her own wide grin in the mirror in front of her, the face of a beauty pageant contestant. She saw her own body putting her hand on her hip and strutting forward, putting a little bounce in the obscene booty trailing it, then stopping in a confident power pose at the end of the stage serving as its catwalk. Before long, the mirror was out of view, and she was **** to use her imagination as to what she must look like as she began a loud recitation with all the projecting volume of a cheerleader. "I am the Pretty Guardian! Who fights for loooooove and justice!" Her face winked and blew a kiss as she called herself pretty. Her hand that wasn't conveying her blown kiss traveled down her stomach scandalously, coming to rest at her groin and rubbing it as if that dirty gesture was related to "love." "I am Tsusami Shirogoony, and you can call me Sailor Looney!" she called out to the empty theater, striking a pose with one hand in front of her goofy crossed eyes and ending with her tongue poking cheekily from her mouth. "And now... in the name of...!"

By this point, Tsumugi had realized what she was afraid of. The strings weren't just on all the props in the theater. They were on her. But to control her like a puppet, they would have to be a thick, visible web; instead, there seemed to be a limited number, just enough to impress that they were there for that purpose. Regardless, considering there weren't any apparently in her mouth, there was no way they could be controlling her voice or her expression. It was magic, pure and simple. Still... could she fight it?! She tried to struggle against the **** trying to make her legs turn it around. She was becoming red faced, exerting effort and clenching her teeth, and it seemed to be working.

Until, suddenly, it wasn't at all. Even her eyes seemed to dull and become puppetlike as she suddenly ceased her resistance, smiling cheerily as she completed her turn and bent over, giving the empty theater an unguarded view of her huge, pale ass, which appeared nearly naked between the useless skirt and disappearing thong of her leotard. She peeked back over her shoulder with a cheeky grin, rocking her exposed backside back and forth. "And now, in the name of this lovely moon...~" She teased, cutting a circle through the air with her behind. "I will punish you, naughty boys and girls...!~" She punctuated her catchphrase with a sharp smack to her own broad cheek that left it jiggling and lightly red from the ****, bringing tiny tears to the corners of her own eyes.

Then, as one-man-applause from an unseen pair of hands sounded from around the theater, Tsumugi had fallen to her knees, palms on the stage, the grin she'd been wearing still stuck on her face only because she couldn't fix it in her shock. For a moment, her body hadn't just been moved; it had been like she was a puppet, experiencing someone else's actions in first-person view.

If Tsumugi was right, her captor had no intention of letting up with this cruel and unusual punishment. He intended to keep her here, making her his personal plaything. Who else would be dumb enough to be led here by Junko? What if nobody else ever came? If they did, could they fight his magical power? If he got tired of her, what would he do to her? Change her again? Throw her away? Every time she resisted, he only deepened his psychopathic, supernatural humiliation of her. She had to try something else.

Breathing heavily, bracing herself to have her body taken away from her at any time, Tsumugi rose back to her feet. Now, it was time for her to do some real acting. She steadied her breath... then, she smiled, and clapped. "Wow, oh my gosh!! That was amazing! I've never felt so connected to a fictional character before! You're just plain amazing as a director."

The voice, improbably, seemed to be laughing along with her now, instead of just at her. "Right? I'm a genius. So few are capable of realizing it. You think I nailed this Sailor Moon pretty well, then?"

"Oh, no, not at all!" Tsumugi proclaimed honestly. "That was nothing like Sailor Moon. It was better! Sailor Moon has nothing on this original character you created. Audiences are really into that kind of character these days. Entertaining, but raunchy and hyper-sexualized. It's just..."

The voice's laughter began to taper off as he realized there was a complaint coming. When he replied, his voice was already dripping with the thought of his next performance for his actress. "It's just...?"

The cosplayer braced herself. There was no thought of pride any longer. Junko's words from their earlier conversation rang in her head: "on a battlefield, pride's the first sacrifice you make." Tsumugi could worry about being a proud cosplayer later. She could worry about being a good classmate and a person of good moral character later. Right now, there was just survival, and making sure she was never **** onto a stage in front of an audience like this, dressed as a garbage, willfully ignorant desecration of her favorite fictional character. So, she chose her words carefully. "I wasn't kidding when I said that I was the most boring of all my classmates. There are a bunch of natural blondes, and I think a bunch are the proud and haughty type you'd love. Many of them are even more, uh, stacked than I am. Why should a great theater like yours be limited to single-part productions? You could have a whole troupe of actresses. I'll... call them for you. Give me my cellphone and I'll call them. I'll convince them to come here, and then you can do whatever you like."

There was silence, which seemed like a good sign. When that silence was broken by a measured voice instead of mocking laughter, it was even better. "Really? Even more comely than you? Interesting... And you have no qualms about offering them up to me as sacrifices to save your own beautifully bulbous behind?"

Ignoring that she was making nice with a **** that had blown her backside up to cartoonish proportions before making her slap it in ridicule of an iconic character she loved, Tsumugi nodded. She nodded carefully so that her wig wouldn't be displaced. "Of course! But this isn't about the, um, really inspired big butt you gave me. It's not about saving my own skin. I just want to join you appreciating the excellent fictional characters you've come up with, and I don't want to do it on a stage. If at all possible, I'd like to fill some other role in the theater, and I figured staffing could be that role. I'll provide you with a colorful cast of every size and temper of actress you could dream of. A full cast, to rival the Scouts themselves!"

There was quiet again, which Tsumugi now recognized as contemplation. For her own part, her tongue was catching in her throat as she realized something terrible. Why would the Owner need a "cast director" to ensnare her classmates if Junko had already proven she was capable of leading women like her to the theater? In her head, she began preparing further arguments, preparing other services she could offer... Everything here was pretty dusty. Maybe some kind of cleaning?

The voice made her jump. "Very well. Let us be very clear: actresses in my theater are in no position to negotiate their roles. I may still call upon you to act. However, if you can supply me with beauties rivaling your own to act upon my stage, along with the occasional other odd request, I see no reason to put you on stage before an audience. After all, you really are quite pathetic! You became a sniveling, groveling mess so quickly and discarded your pride to sell out your so-called friends nigh-instantly."

Tsumugi gulped, but kept her smile on. "'Friends' is a strong word. They're classmates and acquaintances! My true love is for fictional characters and cosplay."

"Yes, and for your cellular phone. When I return it to you, I'm sure you intend to use it for the stated purpose? No sneaky messages on the side, cries for help?"

"... Why would I do that? Even if I wasn't head-over-heels to see your vision, you can make me say or do anything you like. No sooner would I have the phone than I'd lose it. That'd be plain stupid. I just want the small favor of keeping me out of audience eyes."

"... Very well. You have yourself a deal, the first of its kind in theater history, I might add."

Tsumugi smiled genuinely, relaxing a bit. She couldn't think of this ghastly theater spook as "reasonable," but she was surprised to find out that the **** that had shaved her bald for a rudimentary complaint had caved in so easily. "All right, I'm looking forward to a fruitful partnership. If I could just have my phone..." The cellphone began to lower from the ceiling towards her waiting hands. As she tried not to look too excited, reaching out for it as casually as possible, she had to hide her shock as it was suddenly yanked up and away.

"Not so fast. There are, ahem, strings attached. Miss Shirogane, I understand you may be shy about appearing in front of a theater audience, but for this partnership to work, I must test the veracity of your devotion. I must see that you are truly willing to do whatever it takes to satisfy me, outside of that one condition of yours. I also cannot employ anyone who is not capable of following directions, or who is totally inept on the stage. So, we shall do a dry run of a simple, short play that I put together just now, just for you. This serves as an excellent opportunity for me to show you the inspiration and depth of my fictional characters, which you also seem so interested in."

"Oh, gee... swell..." Tsumugi gulped. "A-are we doing, um... Sailor Looney again?"

"No, no. This character is more... realistic. Pulled from life, if you will."

On that note, his actress was pulled back into the darkness of the stage as the spotlight dimmed and the curtains closed, opening again on his new production.

---

Tsumugi Shirogane in

THE COSPLAYER'S NEW CLOTHES

A morality tale

The curtain opens on our heroine, the lead actress, TSUMUGI. The stage is decorated as a university dorm room, but decorated with appropriate props [flags, posters from her strange cartoons, etc.] to suggest she is in Japan. The audience understands this is her own dorm room and that she is willingly engaged in posing in front of her full-height mirror. She is wearing cosplay in the avant-garde style of a reckless interpretation of an overdone and overrated cartoon character, Sailor Moon.

As is the norm for cosplayers, Tsumugi is making an effort to wink, blow kisses, strut, and shake her bottom at the mirror in front of her. Like many of her gender, Tsumugi is, of course, primarily interested in attracting the attention of members of the opposite sex. Unlike many of her gender, however, she has come up with the convenient excuse of cosplay as a way to appear nearly naked in public, utilizing assets such as her natural breasts and quite unnaturally fat ass as blunt-**** weapons in attention-seeking conquest. There is but one problem...

TSUMUGI: *planting her fists on her hips and pouting* "G-gosh darn it! My cosplay is... so awful! Even though I made it with love and, um... i-intentionally made it super slutty so that all the boys would drool over it, it looks absolutely hideous. And considering I'm supposed to be the Ultimate Cosplayer, that must mean... my other cosplay is even worse! I wish I had every cosplay outfit I'd ever created right here in my room so I could... destroy them all? With scissors?"

Tsumugi needn't have acted so frightened, as she did not, of course, have every one of her sad cosplay costumes in this very dorm room.

TSUMUGI: *subtly letting out a sigh of relief and speaking in a whisper* "Oh thank God..." *raising her voice as she hears the narration* "I mean, oh! Dear God! If only there was some way I could make myself more attractive for the boys, so they'd start pounding some... good loving into this... f-fat butt of mine, like God intended! Hmmm..."

Tsumugi thinks as hard as she can about it, which isn't very hard at all. As a member of the fairer sex and as a total ditz, Tsumugi has to wear nerdy glasses in public to even give the impression she has a single thought in her head. Without them, she would be immediately recognized as the sort of fuzzy-headed floozy she actually is. Still, even her miniscule brain is capable of honing in on the inspiration that has just been handed to her.

TSUMUGI: "Destroy my clothes... Destroy my clothes... That's it! Wait, that's it?"

That is, indeed, it. Tsumugi has come to a brilliant revelation. One that is, appropriately, revelation itself. Why was she, like a dumbass, buying expensive materials, spending long hours crafting costumes that everyone hated, including herself? Isn't the power of imagination greater than anything? If she wants to dress as a fictional character, she will be best served to dress in a fictional outfit.

With that understanding, Tsumugi creates her final and most memorable cosplay.

TSUMUGI: *tentatively stretching out her leotard and working to slit the side of her costume with a pair of scissors which has just appeared for her* "Golly, why didn't I think of this before? I'm such a dumb bimbo!" *pulling apart the leotard at the chest, revealing her bare breasts* "If I just tell the teachers that it's an important part of my cosplay, they'll definitely let me strut around b-b-butt-ass naked on silly pretense! Yep, when it comes to a costume, there's no clothes like no clothes, tee hee hee!"

In no time at all, with the speed of a practiced cloth-cutter, Tsumugi has turned her lousy leotard into white litter on her floor. She pulls the final shred of it out as a whip of floss she'd been clenching between her thick cheeks. The outfit is still far too chaste for her purposes, however. Already picturing all the boys who'll be jerking off to her fine figure, she tries to keep herself from getting too wet as she sheds the silly skirt that could hardly protect her shoddy dignity besides. And then, to seal the deal, Tsumugi bends over, giving the mirror a fully-bared eye-popping glimpse of her best asset, and collects the flimsy garment from the floor. She slices it in two places in a flash, ensuring no one will wear it ever again.

Yes, this is the outfit Tsumugi intends to turn heads in: the costume she was born in, save for her ridiculous ponytails, her slutty-looking bowed choker and sailor collar, and her squeaky rainboots. While confidently projecting a fantastic outfit in the tiny space between her ears, she projects nothing to our eyes but the bounce of boobies and the jiggle of a bountiful bottom as she struts from her dorm room...

TSUMUGI: *brazenly throwing open a prop door at the end of the stage* "Look out, everyone, it's time for Tsumugi Shirogane's Ultimate Cosplay, the greatest the world has ever seen!" *looking concerned as she realizes the stage directions call for her to walk through the door and clumsily off the edge of the stage, beginning to do so regardless before the lights cut out and she is repositioned by strings.*

Well, Miss Shirogane gets what asked for. Eyes are on her around the world as she appears on TV screens and internet pages in her new cosplay...

TSUMUGI: *bent over a prop cop car that has appeared on stage as a loud siren blares and cuffs are slapped on her wrists* "Officers, you don't understand! This is cosplay! Arresting me for public indecency is infringing on my rights to express myself!" *yelling in frustration as the curtain closes once again and the scene is shuffled*

Here we see Tsumugi in her new favorite outfit: prison stripes. Specifically, the little prisoner hat, only: the wardens have graciously allowed her to remain in the butt-naked cosplay she so dearly loves, without so much as a wig. She holds an identification card bearing her name as her photos are taken, first from forward view, next from side profile. In profile, her humungous ass casts a round shadow on the height chart behind her. The audience can't help but think about how that same name she currently holds had famously appeared on magazines everywhere and on the roster of an accredited, one-of-a-kind academic institution. The audience considers how Tsumugi's own poor choices led her to this outcome.

TSUMUGI: *facing the camera, giving a 'well shucks' smile, blushing furiously at being both naked and clearly shaven and trying to hide her obvious annoyance at the final line of the production, while avoiding in any way offending the director* "I guess... the rules are there for a reason, huh?!"

END, AND APPLAUSE.