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[ GN!Reader ] ➜ DOLL*DANCE

         ╰┈➤ The final performance of the three-person unit called "Valkyrie" dawns upon a theatre stage, where a doll releases his final cry before abandoning the unit as a whole.

                                 ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The stage illuminated and shone in warm, lustrous light from above. Violins died down, their symphonic cries washing over the audience covered in shadows in that of a slow, bittersweet dance. While the pink-haired Shu Itsuki guided his partner, Mika Kagehara, backstage behind the stage's velvet curtains of red. Audience applause erupted and exploded off of the walls of the theatre-stage live house, leaving the lights themselves shuttering against the sheer noise of it all.

The applause suffocated and died down as a blond haired character named Nazuna Nito made his way onto the stage. A mics brief shriek of feedback sent a ripple of surprise through the excitable crowd below the wooden stage. Many took notice to the thin, shimmering strings that suspended Nazuna's wrists in the air. He hung his head, as if life had lost all meaning. He looked berated and exhausted. His eyes drooped unpleasantly, although he held a certain type of beauty that none could comprehend, even when standing before it.

Their eyes were hooked. Even as a feeble audience, they were enthralled in this theatre and this character. This perfect doll of flesh and blood that suffered before their eyes brought them profound wonder. Looking upon him was their gateway into an entirely separate world— one twisted, augmented by the likes of Shu.

Exhausted shoes hit the stage with every jarred step of Nazuna's. Music carried his every movement like it had been beaten into his very core. He moved in rhythm with the strings of cruelty wrapped around his wrists, the greedy maws of the threads appearing close to tearing his flawless skin.
In this twisted and lifeless dance came Nazuna's resonating voice. His tone was bleak. Nothing was to be heard or seen apart from lips that moved only when commanded to. Lips that loved perfection, yet yearned to be something more.

Amidst that crowd, an aspiring producer lurched forth. Their eyes were locked onto the character— the person that embodied the direct image of a flawless doll. The portrait of his pain made him all the more intriguing sight to witness. In his ruby-red eyes, his soul bled. His soul bled salty tears that barely altered his singing voice, one yet to be stained by despair.
Even as they watched, they could feel the emotion pooling from Nazuna. His movements spoke of nothing but depression and sorrow. His breaths were heaved, like that of someone pushed beyond their mental limit. Resistance was futile. For Nazuna, was this it?

The producer's eyebrows knitted as they observed, utterly distraught by what they were witnessing. No one in the crowd knew that they'd be witnessing past Valkyrie's final theatre, yet the producer could simply feel it in their fingertips. The air was unsettled. The aura of Nazuna swirled and bubbled with rage. Self-hatred and anguish drove his every breath. It looked as though he'd collapse soon.

When the music released its final cry, so did Nazuna. His voice screamed and screamed— as loud as he possibly could, tugging the fine threads at his wrists with all of his might all the while. His eyes were round, visibly reddened and irritated from crying. He looked livid as the threads around his wrists yanked free from their manipulator, fleeing down to the wooden stage in gentle sways.
Nazuna's voice cracked the glass of the lights lining the stage. The lights begged for mercy as they sparked, eventually giving way as vibrato was introduced to the enraged screaming. The tune was so perfect in pitch, high and mighty, the producer was forced to endure the pain that the screams brought upon their ears as they observed.

The dark consumed Nazuna as his ten-second cry for mercy deafened his audience. As painful as it was to listen to simply because of how high it was as a note, the producer couldn't stop listening. Their ears trained in on the sorrowful symphony. Their heart raced as they listened. They could hear Nazuna's breaths huffing as he became unable to scream any longer. All that was left was to cry. To cry in pity and shame of himself for letting himself become what he'd been shifted into by Shu's forceful hands.

While the audience struggled to process what had just happened, the figure of Nazuna whisked off behind the velvet curtains, disappearing to wherever he could seek an escape to let his bitter tears fall.

All the while, the producer's chest adopted a new sensation. Something they had never experienced before, and something they would only experience in Nazuna's presence.

The dawn of an era crumbled and crashed in messy, glassy debris. A new "me" was born and whisked off to cut one's hair and shed what was of himself.