Kotoko is… pink .
Her hair, her outfit, her accessories—it's all just pink, pink, pink, pink .
Her personality, too.
She's all fluff , all sugar , all lovely and sweet— at least with Monaka. All things bubblegum, all things strawberry, all things pink, pink, pink, pink, pink —the way her cheek blush, the way she sweetly holds her hands, the way she looks at Monaka—
It all makes her skin crawl.
But where there is sugar, there is spice. And Kotoko is spice , too. Under her pink , under her fluff , under her lovely and sweet , there is a core of hate and anger that Monaka recognizes all too well.
She wants to break her, a little. Crack open her apple candy heart, break her hard shell and spill her ooey-gooey guts. Underneath, is there red to be spilled, staining her blushing pink face red? Will she, at the end, show Monaka her hatred through tear stained eyes? How lovely would that be? Would she break Monaka's heart for breaking open hers?
Ironically—
Nothing about Kotoko is gentle .
Only when she is with Monaka is she, and it makes Monaka want to scream. Will even her hatred bleed and blush pink? Is there nothing to her but that color?
And the blood that stains her is pink, too. It looks lovely. It looks sweet. It looks, splattered onto her cheeks, like blush. Pink, pink Kotoko, and green, green Monaka. (Green with envy, maybe. Envy of lives she'll never live. Of how Kotoko can look at her and find hope, find love, when Monaka knows no one has ever truly loved her the same—certainly not Kotoko, no matter how much she thinks so.) Strawberry and kiwi tarts, the whole thing a sour affair. Together, they would make ugly, ugly grey. No good, no good—it makes Monaka's heart flutter and sink with dread.
Maybe when she feels the despair of killing her, Monaka will understand what Junko-onee meant.