Danganronpa 10th Anniversary Outfit Novels & Stories

I covered the smile trying to wriggle its way from my lips with my hand. Zenny lived in the castle's mirrors and assisted me with my hair and makeup. He always wore crazy outfits that somehow totally worked on him. Today he had on navy blue and orange plaid pants. They were tight and stopped just above his ankles. His shoes were orange as was his button down shirt, which was covered in small navy polka dots. The collar was up, and he had a white t-shirt underneath. His hair was cropped short and just as bright orange as his shoes.

I replied. It was the day of my parents' anniversary. Dana was still in the room dressing while I was keeping the boys company. The click-clack sound on the tiles made me direct my gaze to the direction of the sound, and I was stunned by the sight that met my eyes. Dana was in a purple dress. Her milky white shoulders and a little cleavage were out. The dress molded her breasts in a very attractive manner, and her tiny waist was accentuated by the way her hips flared out.

—as a human ally, never a wolf. Lunas smiled in the background at dinners, not at war councils. “Thank you,” I said. The maid ducked her head. “They’re waiting, Luna.” After she left, I dressed quickly, choosing something between battle‑ready and decorative: a dark green dress that skimmed my hips but didn’t restrict my legs, sleeves that cuffed just above the elbow so I could move my arms freely, boots instead of slippers. I pinned my braid up off my neck, leaving a few strands free around my face to soften the severity. The mirror showed a version of myself that was neither the doll my family preferred nor the battered trainee from yesterday.

“You’re ruining me for anyone else.” And maybe I already was ruined too. I slipped into a black jumpsuit, zipped halfway up, revealing just a hint of lace beneath. My boots matched Darlington’s—military issue, thick-soled and ankle high. Over it, I threw on a cropped utility jacket. Hair in a slick ponytail. To top it all an eyeliner and Ms Paris body mist and perfume. I picked out Darlington’s outfit: black armor tee-top, baggy cargo pants, and a sleek vest, combat boots, and his signature Patek Phillipe wristwatch. He smirked at how I matched him like we were some kind of elite spy couple.

The convention hall buzzed with energy, but Alex felt completely out of place. At 23 and painfully shy, he had come alone, mostly to people-watch and admire the elaborate costumes. Then he saw her. She stood near the photo area, dressed as Zero Two from Darling in the Franxx , the sexy anime character with the iconic pink hair, red horns, and a revealing bodysuit modified into a short, flouncy skirt that barely covered her thighs. The tight top hugged her full breasts, pushing them up invitingly, while thigh-high stockings and platform boots completed the look. Her long pink wig framed a strikingly beautiful face with bright contact lenses that made her eyes look otherworldly. She was breath

“Because I do not intend to.” I stood and went to the wardrobe. My dresses hung in neat rows, fabrics in soft colors that once made sense for a Luna. Today they looked ridiculous. I pushed past them and reached for the darker section: the clothes I wore when I was running, fighting, bleeding. Black cargo pants. A fitted top that allowed movement. A leather jacket reinforced at the shoulders with light armor plates. Contemporary war, not some pretty fantasy ball.

Just as Maddy was about to thank him, Charlie laughed and said, "Miss Maddy, please show a little respect to my girlfriend! Don't forget, the one cooking in this house is me!" After that, he pointed to the precious mushroom soup, as if jokingly saying, "Drink it, it's not drugged!" Maddy blushed, and from that point on, she never brought out the grey robe for Charlie's girlfriend to wear. "Or, you can pick any of mine?" Maddy saw Bianca still in a daze and opened the door to the dressing room. In the dressing room, three entire wardrobes were filled with work uniforms, categorized by style: cheongsam, Thai, Japanese, Korean, English, French, Italian, and so on.

I sighed. "This is what you are going to wear." Hanaele lent me common identity clothes that the Agila squad is wearing. A white, knee level cape with a logo of an eagle in the emphasis of its sharp eyes, and its writing style that I did not recognize. A stretchable, dark red pants. Several blue strands of which I still do not know what are uses, and yellow upper attire. An orange-colored hip length jacket-like. And of course, peach footwear in knee level.

And very much alone. “Danika.” I look back at Henry, whose eyes are carefully studying me. I know what he sees. I did have time to look in the mirror this morning. My school outfit, which consists of a short black shirt, tights, strappy ballerinas, a black tight shirt and a black blazer with golden lines on it. It's sexy. It's meant to be sexy. My long brown hair is loose, falling around my face, some knots definitely still visible.

Anya’s POV The next night, I stood in front of my mirror way longer than necessary. I kept fixing tiny things—brushing out imaginary lint, adjusting my dress strap, patting down my hair even though it was already smooth. My nerves wouldn’t sit still. I had chosen a long black dress. Simple, but elegant enough for a charity event. It hugged my waist and flowed down, not too dramatic. My hand still hurt a little, so I avoided bracelets. I slipped on small silver earrings, hoping they made me look like someone who belonged beside a powerful CEO.