“The design is stupid.”
“Uhuh.”
“It is .”
Komaru Naegi is glaring at Junko Enoshima. This is not unusual, and in a lot of ways, this is not odd. Not for them. Komaru is often glaring at her more than not these days, and Junko is just as often unimpressed by it. The odd thing, Komaru will admit if pressed, is that Junko Enoshima is transparent and floating as she rolls her eyes and rests her head in the crook of her palm; because Junko Enoshima is dead .
But for Komaru Naegi, it really wasn't unusual. Junko's been dead the whole time she's known her, from the very first time she met her as she invisibly played with Monaka's hair, eyes flicking to Komaru and widening as she just knew from how their eyes met across the room—till now, with her staring at her with flat eyes and flat mouth and despairing gaze.
Komaru Naegi can just see ghosts. That's all. That, too, is completely ordinary to her. Her own “common sense.”
“Seriously.” Komaru complains. “What does Monokuma even mean, anyway? It's not like he's half good and half bad—why split him like that?”
Junko Enoshima sighs, put upon and aggravated that Komaru does not see her vision. “It's hope and despair, dumbass.”
“Well he's not very hopeful either.”
“Serious question. How are you this stupid?”
Komaru crossed her arms, eyes narrowing. “Then explain it to me!”
“Remember Shirokuma?”
Komaru paused. “Yes. I do. He was being puppeted by your knock off the whole time, kind of hard to forget.”
“What do you think he represented? He's the white side of Monokuma. Half of him.”
“Uh… I guess hope?”
“ Wrong .” Junko's eyes glared down at her. “Shirokuma represents despair . Kurokuma was hope.”
“That vulgar bear is how you see hope ?”
“Hope is the most vulgar thing out there.” Junko defends. “Besides, think . How did they function? How did they behave? What did they bring to people?” She paused, as if waiting for Komaru to answer, only to roll her eyes once more when she didn't find the words. “Shirokuma brought the adults despair. He sold out their names to the kids, leading their loved ones to be captured and tortured, and broadcasted that to the adults. He kept them trapped in a dark small hole in the ground, and forbade them from going outside. And they loved him for it. Because he did it all while cloaking himself in sweetness, because he was kind. That's despair. Sweet and lovely, and the worst kind of torture.” She sounded wistful thinking about it, before she shook her head. “Kurokuma was the opposite. He is loud and violent and yes, vulgar, because that is the hope I wield. That's what it is to me. He gave Monaka the Successor plan and the kids the Paradise plan, he gave them hope . Hope of having me back. Hope of never being hurt again. Hope of safety and love. Pitch black hope. Pure white despair. That is what makes up Monokuma.”
“That's not very obvious.”
“It doesn't need to be. The people who matter will get it, or they won't. It was for me, really. All of it was for me. Monokuma—he represents me. His components are not just how I operate , but how I think . Who I am . That's what hope and despair is to me. A vulgar lie that I wield as a weapon. A beautiful display that sings lullabies to me as I weep. Don't you get it? All I am is hope and despair.” A pause. “You could have been it, too. The hope of the adults, and the despair of the kids. You could have been the opposite of me. You could have been the same.”
Komaru swallows. “But I'm not.”
“You're not.” Junko's eyes flashed. “Because of Touko . You could have had it all. You could have understood . You could have been a savior, a god, Jesus and Judas in one, the wound and the knife and the hands that tend to it—you could have been everything ! You were already halfway there. You already knew, didn't you? That hoping was useless. It would just turn into despair. So why not embrace it? Why not hope for that despair?”
“I don't think that anymore.” Komaru denies. “Or… maybe I think that doesn't make hope meaningless. That hope is still beautiful. It still matters. To embrace the pain of it… isn't that just rejecting that pain? To embrace despair, isn't that you rejecting it's very meaning?”
“What are you saying?”
“It just comes from not wanting to be hurt. But I don't… I don't know if pain is bad. Pain can tell you something is wrong. To reject pain by embracing pain… It goes against its very meaning. I know… you don't want to be hurt, Junko. But I think everyone gets hurt. What matters is getting up afterwards—even if you have to have help to do so… And… in the grand scheme of things, I just don't think words like hope or despair matter that much at all.”
Junko stares at her. “Maybe we're nothing alike after all.”
Komaru smiles. “Maybe.” She shakes her head. “But I get the feeling we are. I just had Touko.”
A person to understand her and accept her. A person to stop her before she went too far. Komaru could have become Junko Enoshima quite easily; the only thing separating them was Touko Fukawa snatching that controller from her grip. If there was someone like that for Junko, maybe none of this would have happened. But Komaru thinks there wasn't.
Junko snorts, shaking her head. “What a utterly boring response for an utterly boring girl. We really are different.”
But in another life, they were one and the same.