Chapter Text
“This wasn’t . . . supposed to . . .” Mukuro shudders from the cold caress of the dozen or so stakes penetrating her from every angle. The soldier’s final thoughts aren’t of her role as the mastermind’s spy, nor concerned with the life flashing before her eyes. “. . . why me?” To the onlookers, those two words were spoken to disbelief.
In reality, they were directed towards her killer.
To her sister.
To me.
"Why? Is she for real?" Junko watched her plan go off without a hitch from the control room monitors.
That may have been the biggest disappointment.
“You never understood me at all.” Junko mutters solemnly as the corpse crumpled.
She filters out her classmates’ strategizing and investigative (in)action.
The despair lies back against the chair and glances up to the ceiling. “I’m alone again.” So long as she stayed in this tiny room, Junko Enoshima was dead to the world.
She smiled, feeling relieved and nostalgic. The latter emotion prompted her to look at the keyboard. More precisely, the bold book lying on the side of it.
“I can’t believe I picked up that habit.” As Ryoko Otonashi, she’d ran around Hope’s Peak Academy carrying around a diary that concealed her most private thoughts and feelings.
All fake. As fake as the diary itself had been. However, the diary in front of Junko now was real. Beneath the dry, battered cover held her most treasured memories.
Junko sits upright and places the book to the table’s center.
She traces her fingers over the edge, feeling the cracks of once-delicate leather before flipping to the first page.