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Makoto smiled nervously as he passed her table in the mess. There was a part of her that really wished he would stop doing that. It was obvious that it was forced.
The other part of her was happy to be looked at with something other than disgust, disdain, distrust.
It was all, to put it mildly, incredibly awkward. Mukuro had been awoken from her death-like state second, after Sayaka. She wondered if Junko had known this would happen, that they'd be found by— someone, whomever— who would hate despair with a fervor, and that was why she chose to kill her so early and unceremoniously. So that they could cause more despair to fester in Mukuro's heart.
Or maybe she had just anticipated that Mukuro would be lonely, and that might cause her to feel despair. She was quite lonely. Not only did nearly everybody avoid her like the plague, but Junko wasn't awake yet. Despite everything— despite everything— she missed her. The Future Foundation was right not to trust her, of course they were; when Junko came back, Mukuro would fall back into place by her side.
Mukuro picked at her food. She hadn't been eating, which had concerned the pharmacist, the closest thing they had to a doctor, severely. It had annoyed the boxer, since food was difficult to come by. In general, Mukuro made the therapist sad, though she was difficult to read and would never admit to such a thing. Mukuro knew that she made her sad, because she made everyone sad if she talked at them for more than approximately 5 seconds. It was something she missed about being Junko; she had lost her ability to say things that other people found normal. It was easier to pretend when she was Junko, because that's all Junko ever did.
Mukuro heard the chair slide out across from her.
“Makoto does that to me, too. I wish he would stop.”
Mukuro glanced up, barely, at Sayaka Maizono. She went back to picking at her food. And then, there was Sayaka, who didn't seem to understand that they had not done things that were equal levels of ‘bad’. The sympathy was cute, but Mukuro couldn't help but feel like she was dragging her name into the mud by association. It's how she felt when they were at school, to; Sayaka always cared about her reputation, always paid lip service to being nice to everyone. But she never really cared about her classmates, beyond their opinion on if she was pretty or if she was nice. Mukuro didn't have a nice way of telling her that trying to get on her good side was a good way of getting on everybody else's bad side. So she usually just settled for saying it meanly. “You should go away.”
Sayaka smiled softly. She never brought food with her, Mukuro always noticed. She wondered if that was a habit from before or after she died. “Why should I?”
Mukuro poked her food. “They won't like it.”
Sayaka shrugged. “Who cares what they think?”
Mukuro looked up, a bit incredulously. “You do.”
Sayaka's smile broke, “N-no, I…” she sighed, frowning. “I'm trying, Mukuro. I'm trying not to care, I really am. And I think you could try, too.”
“I don't care what they think,” Mukuro looked away.
“No!” She cried out, slamming her palm on the table. “That's not what I—” she paused, probably to realize she was causing a scene, since she quieted down again after. “That's not what I was talking about. I meant trying to get better.”
Mukuro frowned into her beans. “It won't matter if I do… I'll still be…” Despised. Disappointing. Disgusting.
Despair.
“I can't change the past. I am who I am, I've done what I've done.”
Sayaka sighed. “No, you can't.” She said sadly. Finally, she was getting it. All Mukuro was good for was making people sad. “But,” Sayaka said, lifting up her hand with her pointer finger extended. “You can change the future. We've been gifted that chance.”
“Junko's gifts are never kind,” Mukuro warned.
Sayaka looked down. “No, I don't doubt that…” she paused. “Maybe she could change, too.”
Mukuro wanted to laugh. She wanted to scream. She wanted, wanted, wanted, more than anything in the world, to hope that that was true.
All she ever hoped for was that her sister would get better. Feel better. That's all she wanted.
“Maybe.” Mukuro said, finally. “Hopefully.” She got up from the table and left.