I can't fail now, Tamama's internal voice encouraged, dumbstruck by the two Dragon Warrior platoon members hovering in the air in front of him. They blocked the path to the third door on the right where Kururu said he needed to place the Kero Ball and end this.

I can't fail now, Tamama repeated, willing himself to stand – albeit shakily. I have to finish this. Right here and right now! "I've come all this way," Tamama muttered aloud, every part of him trembling due to the rage threatening to tear him apart from the inside and take control. "There's no way..." Tamama raised his head high, clutching his chest; "no way I'm letting you stop me, desu!"

Dragon Giroro took aim with his rocket launcher as Dragon Dororo readied to throw his shuriken ninja stars.

Tamama was intimidated by the intensity of their glares, but the intensity of his own rage didn't allow him to shrink into a corner of the hall. "Th-that's it..." he mumbled, recalling a fragment of his training, buried in the back of his mind – somehow, it broke through the many layers of anger coated around his brain. "My rage... I can –!"

Giroro began charging a concentrated shot from his rocket launcher while Dororo threw a couple of shuriken Tamama's way, leaving short gashes as they ricocheted off the black-tiled walls.

It's pointless, Tamama thought, watching as Dororo's two shuriken hit the wall to come his way. We're in a narrow hallway. They have nowhere to go.

Letting go of his chest, Tamama stood up taller, arching his back as he allowed his rage to swell – for one moment – out of control, his eyes fading into a breathing, ember-like, fiery amber color. "TAMAMAAAA..." Giroro and Dororo realized what he was doing, scrambling to find a place to move to dodge the attack at the last second.

There wasn't one.

They'd been had.

"IMPACTOOOO!"

Tamama Presents: Mission complete? – de arimasu

Having expelled most of his frustration via Tamama Impact, the desire to give in to the rage assaulting his mind receded, – if only slightly, – allowing Tamama enough energy to retrieve the Kero Ball from the ground behind him, stagger past Giroro's and Dororo's singed and twitching bodies on the shredded floor tiles of the hallway, and enter the third sliding black tile door on the right.

The world rocked beneath Tamama's feet as he stepped through the doorway. His vision swirled, causing him to hurl toward the ground and drop the Kero Ball. A hand went to his chest again, and as he bit his lip, he felt his fangs had sharpened to fine tips; the horns on his head had branched to full length.

"I can make it," he urged with what little of his subconsciousness remained – among the rage burning inside him and the many injuries that had accompanied him through his battles up to this point. "I can make it," he puffed again. "I have to make it..." One eye shut, he took a glance upward.

The lab room was dark. (About as dark as the labyrinth of halls had been before Kururu plugged himself into the base's mainframe network cable – Kururu must have turned on all the lights and cracked up the heat since it was warmer and lighter in the hall. [Unless, perhaps, the warmth Tamama felt was merely all the over-boiled rage coursing through his veins.]) Only the ever-changing, multicolored LCDs provided light under the black tiles on the walls of the lab – exactly alike to those in the hallway. Many intriguing gadgets and ingredients rowed the shadowed shelves and counters lining the perimeter of the lab, and the cabinets underneath.

However, most noticeable was the circular, entirely-glass cabinet-shelf in the center, which was home to hundreds of vials of liquid that glowed faintly in every color: neon green, tangy orange, sweet pink, thick grey, minty blue, and clear. Each liquid bubbled, misted, or churned within its glass vial.

Tamama's gaze went up even farther. On the highest glass shelf in the cabinet-shelf was a vial two times the size of all the others. Cracked and laying on its side, the vial dripped foamy, sherbet-green liquid that trickled through the glass shelves below it, down to the lowest shelf where it must have squeezed out the bottom, to the small puddle on the ground that led out the lab's sliding door...

The rough, navy-blue scales on Tamama's right forearm began to sting, a putrid steam wafting off and into his face. This wasn't from the three-clawed wound on his shoulder – though that also stung. Tamama's arm was soaking in another puddle of the foamy green liquid on the floor. He rolled over, clutching his right arm with his clawed left hand, but the liquid seared through the thick skin on his palm in nanoseconds.

Maddened by his own stupidity, Tamama cursed as he tore his hand away from the foamy liquid searing his hand and arm. Too late, he was aware of how low and growly his voice had become; Tamama was too mentality and physically worn to keep his wrath at bay any longer.

A roar loud enough to warp glass shelves and make cabinet doors shudder ripped from Tamama's throat as he lay roiling on the ground, sealing his fate as a Dragon Warrior. His eyes flashed amber, and his mind was devoured completely by the desire to be submerged in mindless fury...

Tamama jolted into consciousness. The surface he lay upon was soft and wispy... almost as if he was on a cloud. "Mm...? Where... where am I, des-ka...?"

"Ah, Tamama Nitouhei, you're finally awake."

Tamama's eyelids opened at once. "Gunsou-san?!" He bolted upright. He was back to normal, – no longer a Dragon Warrior, – just... him.

"Yeah?"

Tamama blinked, taking it all in. Pink. Everywhere was pink. He rubbed his eyes. Well, everything except for...

"Gunsou-san, what are you...?"

Keroro sat in the cotton candy pink clouds with his legs crisscrossed, fork in one hand, a plate of strawberry cake in his lap. In front of and all around him, there was a huge pile of strawberry vanilla, tiramisu, angel food, and chocolate cake. As Tamama stood, he saw behind Keroro on more pink, fluffy, cotton candy clouds were chips, Ramune, pocky, cola, pudding, ice cream, taiyaki, cinnamon rolls... it kept on going... forever and ever, it seemed.

Tamama's mouth watered as he gaped at the food with eyes bright and shining. Keroro brought Tamama's focus back to him when he asked casually, "Wanna join me?"

Tamama's cheeks warmed a gentle pink color at the casualty in Keroro's tone, how it was just the two of them... "G-Gunsou-san... I – eh..." He narrowed his eyes as he watched Keroro precariously. "Wait a minute." He looked left and right to check for something.

Keroro cocked his head to the side in question. "Uh...? Tamama...? What're you doing, de arimas-ka...?"

Tamama scurried over to a large puff of pink clouds that obstructed his view of the other pink clouds around them, using his arms to wave them away and scan the cloud-area beyond. "I'm securing the area of distractions," Tamama said. "Whenever I get lucky enough to be in a situation like this someone always comes and interrupts us." Tamama scurried to another puff of clouds on the other side of Keroro, waving them away to check the area. Seeing no one around, he murmured to himself, "This is weird, desu..."

Keroro chuckled, setting down his plate and fork and standing behind Tamama. He swathed one arm around Tamama's shoulders, pulling him closer. "There's no one else around, Tamama-kun. Come and –"

Tamama spun around, slapping Keroro's arm off his shoulders, startled by having him so close. "Wh-wh-what?!" Tamama blurted, arms raised and legs spread in an aggressive stance, face so red-hot he had to back away.

"What what?" Keroro said. "Come onnnnnnn, Tamama!" He wrapped an arm around Tamama's shoulders again, directing him to the pile of snacks and sweets. Tamama was still trying to process everything that was happening, stuttering to himself as he allowed Keroro to direct him.

"Wait a sec – but that's – what're we –?"

"Stop here. Sit down." Keroro, somewhat shoving Tamama into a sitting position on the ground, picked up his plate and fork of strawberry vanilla cake and sat across from Tamama in the sweets. He sliced off a piece with his fork and held it up to Tamama's face. "Open up, Tamama-kun~"

Taking in Keroro's welcoming position, – the jolly grin spread across his green cheeks and overall ready expression, – Tamama felt something tingling in his chest. "G-Gunsou-san, I –"

Keroro stuck the forkful of vanilla cake into Tamama's mouth and asked, – as he got another slice, – "Do you like it, de arimas-ka?"

Tamama swirled the cake's yummy, sweet icing around his taste buds for a moment, and then swallowed slowly, savoring the texture on his tongue. "It's delicious, desuu!" Tamama chirped happily. "One of the best I've ever had!"

"I hoped you'd like it!" Keroro said, smiling as he chewed on his own piece. He cut Tamama another.

They continued to indulge in all the different kinds of cakes together until Keroro asked it he'd like to try something else. Then they munched on cinnamon rolls and chips. They stuffed their faces with pudding and ice cream – splattering cream all over their cheeks. They drank cola and Ramune in contests, seeing who could chug them down the fastest – almost choking in the process. Tamama almost always won these.

The best part: No one came to bother them. There wasn't a catch. Angol Mois never showed up to ruin everything.

It was... the perfect fantasy.

"Tamama, do you want some pocky, de arimas-ka?"

"Eh? Sure..." He was barely paying attention when he bit onto the end of the pocky stick, trying to completely comprehend this heaven he'd ended up in, but when he felt Keroro move closer, and his gaze turned back ahead he saw –

GUNSOU-SAN?! he nearly screamed aloud, biting off the pocky stick and crawling backward. But he didn't. He was able to hold it in, because on the other side of the pocky stick, the non-chocolaty part... Keroro had bitten onto it too.

Their faces were a mere few inches apart.

Tamama's heartbeat rose to a violent roar that thrashed around in his chest, as if a bird was trapped in his ribcage. His breathing increased in speed with each intake. His entire body – arms, legs, chest, all, – trembled. He wanted to... he wanted to lean in... So bad, he wanted to...

Keroro, eyes now closed, began inching closer to Tamama on the pocky stick with his lips. Tamama felt Keroro's breaths spurt softly on his face, and his own eyes fluttered shut, just waiting.

He waited for their lips to connect.

But something didn't feel right.

Why? Tamama asked himself. What doesn't feel right...? This is what I want, isn't it...? Something always interrupts me whenever I get close, so now that the chance is finally in front of me... it doesn't feel real.

Why doesn't it feel real...?

His other voice spoke up. Because Gunsou-san would never –

Tamama gasped, opened his eyes. He bit off where his lips ended on the pocky stick, scrambling backward on his palms and feet. "You aren't real," he whispered, staring at Keroro, wide-eyed.

Keroro made a confused expression, still holding the majority of the pocky stick in his mouth. "Tamama, what are you saying...? Of course I'm real."

Tamama shook his head back and forth, swallowing his chocolate-covered piece, his arms and legs now covered with smashed cake and frosting from those still piled on the fluffy, cotton candy pink ground. "No. No, no, no, no, no. You aren't real. You aren't Gunsou-san. Gunsou-san would never..." Out of nowhere, tears poured out of his eyes and down his cheeks, dripping off his chin in huge drops. Tamama had to choke down his sobs in order to keep speaking. "The real Gunsou-san would never be so affectionate with me. He never has been. Someone always interrupts. This isn't real. This isn't right." He pressed his hands to his eyes, stifling his own body jerks, and sniffled. "You're an imposter," he said, voice rising with anger.

Keroro tried to go closer to Tamama, stammering, "Th-that's not true, I –!"

"SH-SHUT UP!" He pointed at the imaginary Keroro, who stopped dead amongst all the cake. "YOU'RE JUST A FAKE! LISTEN HERE, BUSTER! I WON'T SETTLE FOR A FAKE LIKE YOU! I'VE BEEN TRYING TOO HARD FOR TOO LONG TO WIN OVER GUNSOU-SAN, SO THERE'S NO WAY I'LL GO FOR ANYTHING LESS THAN THE REAL THING! NOT IN THIS OR ANY UNIVERSE!"

The cake and snacks below disappeared as the pink clouds around them whipped around in a tumultuous gale of wind, blowing away. Keroro kept watching Tamama with a desperate expression. "T-Tamama – no – wait –!"

"YOU GOT THAT?! I'M GOING BACK TO SAVE MY PLATOON!

"MY REAL FAMILY!"

With the next swift gust of wind, the imaginary Keroro of Tamama's utopian world blew away like sand in a storm. So did the rest of the clouds...

He inhaled deeply, muscles readjusting to suit his decrepit Dragon Warrior form, sprawled across the floor of Kururu's dark lab. In an immense amount of pain, Tamama dragged himself forward before he could even see, hugging the Kero Ball close to his chest. His spiky, feather-pointed dragon tail trailed behind him, vision blotted out by darkness.

What sounded like claws skittering against the sliding entrance door convinced him to push his battered body to the limit. He curled his injured and burning right arm up to his chest, inching forward in small bursts of energy to the pedestal on the back corner.

The skittering behind him became louder and more frequent with the sound of bending metal. Light from the hallway rayed into the dark lab room.

Clenching his fangs, Tamama's brow slanted with resolve, eyes flashing amber with each burst of energy that allowed him to move forward.

"DON'T YOU DARE!" came Dragon Giroro's growly bellow from the opening in the sliding door.

Tamama kept going forward, toward the test tube-like pedestal that he could barely see.

Dragon Giroro and Dragon Dororo endeavored to clamber through the hole they'd scratched out of the doorway at the same time. Just as Tamama reached out and grabbed the lipped edge of the rectangular-shaped, celeste-lighted pedestal, a clawed hand took ahold of his ankle and pulled him backward.

Losing grip on the Kero Ball at the foot of the pedestal, Tamama whipped Dragon Giroro in the face with his spiky tail, which got Giroro to release his ankle. On his stomach, Tamama shifted to reconnect his line of sight on the pedestal, only to see Dragon Dororo had plucked the Kero Ball from the ground, and was preparing to use his wings to escape out the door with it. Tamama latched onto Dororo's foot with both hands as he flew toward him, sending them into the hallway – away from Giroro, who'd recovered, swiped, and missed Tamama as he flew by.

Though his right arm stung, Tamama was able to hold onto Dororo long enough to crash them into the hallway's wall, Kero Ball rolling his direction on the floor. Collapsed on the ground on his stomach again, Tamama felt something roll into his arm, and leapt up with the Kero Ball in hand that very second.

He caught a glimpse of Dragon Dororo, out of commission from smacking headfirst into the black tiled wall, – splitting one tile into many pieces, – and made his way back to Kururu's lab.

Turning the corner, in the correct hallway, he halted at seeing Dragon Giroro in front of the lab room – which now had a large hole resembling the petals of a blooming flower in the thick metal door – with his rocket launcher already fully charged and aimed right at him.

Giroro was winded, breathing in large, raspy breaths, but he still shouted his next command with enough rancor to make Tamama obey. "Set down the Kero Ball or else I shoot."

He lowered the Kero Ball onto the black tiled floor of the hallway.

Giroro, still aiming his rocket launcher at Tamama, walked forward slowly to come collect it.

What are you doing?! yelled the shrill voice in his head. You're letting him win?! After everything...? After all you've endured to get to here...? You're just giving up?!

What can I do? Tamama shot back. I can barely stand up as it is. My rage is already returning and threatening to take me over again. I won't last much longer. I'm surprised I've lasted even this long...

I thought you said you would complete this mission even if you died trying, the voice reminded. Or was that just your ego doing the talking?

Tamama didn't answer.

Giroro had reached him, and bent down to pick up the Kero Ball. He inspected it – each whacky symbol on the raised buttons and the bouncy, red sphere on the antennae.

Tamama's legs gave in and he fell to his knees.

"See? That wasn't so hard, was it?" Giroro said.

Tamama glowered at him from the floor.

Do you really want to go back to that imaginary utopia...? Is that really what you want? A fantasy that will never come true?

No, I don't, Tamama whispered back.

Do you always want to be treated differently, seen lower than others?

No.

What about Gunsou-san? Will you always be second best to her? Will you always allow her to show you up?

No!

Do you want to always be alone? Just a puppet to be used by others to benefit from until they're done with you?

NO! Tamama stood up and slapped the Kero Ball out of Giroro's hands, who was too astonished to react. "Gouchou-san, you should be courtmartialed for disobeying orders. TAMAMA IMPACTO!"

Tamama nearly fell over again as Giroro was blasted into the far hall, but with him out of the way, Tamama doddered into the lab, using every ounce of energy and concentration he had left to pull onto the large, rectangular (table-like) pedestal.

Panting, lying flat on his back on the pedestal with the Kero Ball clutched in both clawed hands, glass walls rose from the celeste blue-lighted edges, pushing his long, spiky tail to one side. The walls of glass extended to the ceiling.

Once closed, the glass, rectangular test tube filled with a clear liquid that felt almost as soothing to Tamama's skin and wounds as water – no, even better than that. On the contrary, he could not safely breathe it in, but he no longer had the strength to move himself from his position. Not like he could get out if he wanted to without ruining the procedure anyway.

The Kero Ball was lifted above him, since it floated on the surface of the liquid, then stopped in the middle as the liquid filled the glass container higher and higher.

The buttons on the sides lit a bright red that shone through the clear liquid – as bright as Dragon Keroro's eyes had been. Fangs sticking out, Tamama sucked in a mouthful of liquid. Tamama watched the Kero Ball gleam red as his last bubbles of oxygen rose to the top of the test tube.

His eyes slid shut.

Mission... complete.

"...ma... Tamama... Tamama!"

"Hmmmm...?"

"Thank God! You're awake!"

"Is this another dream, des-ka...?" Tamama slurred. Something compressed his chest. Harder than ever. "I-I can't... breathe..."

"I'm so sorry...!"

Keroro's voice. The pressure on Tamama's chest disappeared.

"I attacked you...! I didn't... mean for you to get hurt...! I'm sorry...!"

"Gunsou... san...?" Gradually, Tamama opened his eyes. He was in Keroro's bed in the center of his room in the basement. One bright light shined above them. No one else was there.

"I can't believe it... You did it...!" Keroro was crying. He tried to hide it by wiping away the tears in his eyes when Tamama looked at him, but it was impossible. His tears kept coming...

Tamama's right shoulder still pinged each time he moved it, but the bandage around him stunted his movement so it couldn't be anything too painful.

Tamama looked at Keroro with somewhat bleary vision, but he could still see tears trickle occasionally down his cheeks. Keroro's dragon features had been reverted back to Keronian form (obviously). Eyes, head, teeth, and tail: normal. Same went for Tamama, who was having trouble realizing that he'd won – and all that'd happened during.

"Gunsou-san..."

Keroro lurched forward and hugged him, squeezing so tight, Tamama thought he might pop like a balloon. Soon enough, tears appeared in Tamama's eyes too, and he wrapped his arms around Keroro, squeezing just as tightly – as much as he could without hurting his already-injured arm, that is.

"E-everyone will be so happy to hear you're okay, de arimas," Keroro said in Tamama's ear – still sniffing with his sobs.

I don't care about that, Tamama thought. He was happy just being there receiving praise from Keroro. Even if only for that one moment...

As soon as the door opened, Keroro jumped back from his embrace with Tamama and scrubbed the tears right off his face, pretending as if nothing ever happened.

Tamama smiled. He didn't bother to see who'd interrupted them.

(clears throat) First, I would like to thank the academy...

AH HA NOOOOOOOO. I've tried going to writing classes and they never... worked out for me. The teachers focused more on the technical stuff... yeesh.

All right, what do I say here...?

This fanfiction was planned to be so much shorter than it turned out to be. My main concept for "A Puppet on a Lonely String" was inspired by a wonderful fanart that I saw once. I searched for hours, and was unable to find it again. I cannot remember the title. It showed Tamama laying on his back inside some contraption and clutching the Kero Ball. His arms had claws and from the eye you could see, it was clear that he was crying. It was pretty awesome.

The Keroro Platoon's designs in Dragon Warrior form, I visualized as matching that of an artist on pixiv by the username of Akatsuki. (Except in Hiragana, so copy and paste these characters: あかつき if you wanna check them out.) They're pretty awesome too.

Most of all, I want to thank you, my faithful readers. Without you, I would not have been able to go so far with this story. Perhaps I may not have used it to its full potential. I hope the story was as enjoyable to read as it was to write.

I'll continue to keep writing my collection of KeroTama one shots, "Love You, Crazy or Not," as always. Other than that... I dunno how long it'll be until I release my next Sgt. Frog story. (Since the poll on my profile revealed that's what most people want me to write.)

I hope to see you again soon~