Mikan Tsumiki is not a heroine.
Magical girls: heroes of justice that fight bravely for the light through the darkness, a secret well kept spanning centuries. It is a secret kept from Junko Enoshima, and it is a secret kept from Mikan Tsumiki as well.
Neither girl knows about the battle of magical girls. If Junko Enoshima did, her main concern would be how to use the knowledge — though, after Mukuro turned against her, she'd be more apathetic to it. What use is the knowledge to her when she cannot make use of it? Maybe that would be her wish: to go back to how things were, when happiness was easy, because even misery turned into delight. Or maybe it wouldn't be.
If Mikan knew about it, she'd deny the idea of a wish. If she had Junko Enoshima, she already had everything she wanted in her arms.
Magical girls had nothing to do with Mikan Tsumiki. She didn't even know of their existence. As she said, she is no heroine. Fighting for justice, or peace, or hope—none of that's ever appealed. Every day Mikan fought for love, acceptance, forgiveness, and that was all. And she had finally found it, in Junko Enoshima. What use does she have for wishes?
“But have you really found it?” Izabel asks.
Mikan Tsumiki shakes her head, the growing urge to cover her ears. Izabel's voice is cruel, high pitched like metal spoons clacking together. More distressing are her words; each aimed to hit her where it hurts. The Witch in front of her laughs, the same laugh Mikan has heard her whole life, from countless people, all mocking her. If she had a mouth, it would grin. (She sounded, in a way, like Junko. She had the same laugh.)
“She's just like everyone else.” Izabel says, “She hurts you like them, too.”
Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong —she had to be wrong. Junko said she loved her. And Mikan loved her, too. For loving her — through her eyes, she could see her own reflection. The pain that came with it, with Junko Enoshima's love… It was worth it. It was attention . And any attention was good attention. Even when she left bruises across her skin, even when she laughed bright as Mikan oinked like a pig or ate bugs, even when she pressed cigarettes to her back, she loved Mikan, didn't she? This is love, she would say, the only love I know.
She wasn't all cruelty, either. She stood up for Mikan often, defended her in a way no one else did. Only I am allowed to hurt you. And she loved her. Would tell her it, often. Plant kisses on her face as Mikan giggled and flushed, covered her completely in red—blush adorning her cheeks and lipstick covering every inch . I forgive you, and I see you , and I love you , and what would it matter that it hurt her, when everyone hurt her?
It was bliss, wasn't it? When her mind emptied of all things except Junko's boot against her cheek. This is the only love we’ll ever get. So don't you want to enjoy it?
“But you hate her, don't you?”
No, no, no, no— Mikan didn't. Mikan couldn't. Mikan loved Junko; loved her move than life itself. Besides, she's better. She's been getting better . She apologized to her; she loved her. She was changing for her. And Mikan loved her for it. (Mikan despaired for it.)
“Don't lie.” Izabel chuckled once more. So very knowing. “You hate her. You've always hated everyone who's hurt you. That's your despair, isn't it?”
But Junko forgave that despair. Junko loved that despair. Junko made sense. Only someone like her could love Mikan Tsumiki—the only love she's ever known is written in blood.
It doesn't make sense, her apology. No one apologized to Mikan. What was there to be sorry about?
Everyone was like that. Everyone was like that. Everyone hurt Mikan Tsumiki; she didn't know, if she ever knew, how to live without it.
“It makes you want to die, doesn't it?”
A sob caught in her throat. She loved her so much it hurt , it was painful , and she hated her so much she wanted to die. Izabel was right; everything she said was right. I forgive you, Junko told her. I forgive you, Mikan told her. And it was all lies.
“I know the best way to hurt her,” Izabel laughs with glee, leaving a kiss to cover where Junko bit the night before, her lipstick still a stain on her skin she doesn't think will ever fully come out, “The best way to get revenge.”
The ledge was high. Atop Hope's Peak School Building, it quite easy to take her shoes off, and place then neatly next to her.
When Mikan fell, she had a strange, despairing thought:
We were supposed to see cherry blossoms.