“Why did you leave me, Junko?”
She doesn't even look like herself. She looks—soft. Pink lips, instead of red. Sweaters where leather should be. Red, pink—those were typical, but not their construction; it made her look like a stranger. She is staring, with wide eyes, something haunted.
“Mikan-senpai.”
Her voice doesn't even sound the same. There is a stranger where Mikan's lover should be. She is wearing her face; but she is doing it wrong. She is saying her name; but she is saying it wrong. She is looking at her with pleading eyes; but she is looking wrong.
“Didn't you say you forgave me?”
Her voice is a wavering thing in turn. Because where as before, she would been confident in the answer, with this new Junko she is not so sure. This Junko—she hesitates. It makes Mikan hesitate, too.
“Mikan-senpai, you shouldn't… You don't need to do this anymore. Didn't I say it? I'm… I don't want to do this anymore.”
It starts pleading, but it ends small. She's shrinking into herself—like Mikan used to, before her. Look. Look at her. She is unsure. She used to be confident, but in this, she hesitates. Look at what hope is doing to her; how it's diminishing her.
“Are you saying you don't forgive me?”
In contrast, Mikan's voice is a sharp thing, like shards of glass she spits up, like acid scalding the back of her throat that she throws up. It doesn't sound very nice, and Mikan regrets that, a bit, because Junko deserves all things sweet and lovely, but Mikan doesn't feel very nice right now, all things considered. She will have to forgive that, too—if this stranger wearing Junko Enoshima's skin can forgive anything.
“It's…”
The fact that she can't say, hesitating like that, is what really makes it feel like magma is filling Mikan from head to toe, hot and heavy and liquid.
“You can't say it?” She whispers, vicious, “That's cowardly. If you can't forgive me, say you can't. If you don't love me anymore, then say it.”
“No, no, Mikan, I still love you!” She promises, she swears. Does it taste like ash on her tongue, too? It sound hollow. “I'll always love you.”
“Then what's wrong?” Mikan demands. “Is this… Is Naegi getting between us—? Are you cheating on me with him?!”
“What? No!” She denies. “Besides, didn't we agree to an open relationship—? Agh, no, that's not the point! There's nothing going on with me and Makoto! My sister has eyes for him, Mikan-senpai. Not me.”
“ Then what's the problem?”
“I don't want to do despair anymore!” She says, stamping her foot in frustration a bit. “That's it. That's all. I… I'm sorry I didn't come back sooner. Makoto had me handcuffed for a bit… But that's really all this is. I don't want you to- to kill anymore, or torture people, or- or give them fucking lobotomies— that's all I'm asking from you!”
“Why should it matter what I do, if you'll forgive me no matter what?”
Junko hesitates. “Mikan, I'll always love you… But I don't… I don't want to live like that anymore. When- when I did, I just… felt bad all the time. And I said I loved it, because… I didn't think I could live without it. I didn't think… I thought hope was a lie . That's… I thought I was helping people, but… all I did was make everyone miserable. Do you understand that? I made you miserable.”
“You didn't. ” Mikan whispered. “You could never.”
“Do you like living like this?” Junko asks, brows creased. “Really and truly? Because I don't think I ever did. I just thought there was no other option.”
“And Makoto taught you there was ?”
“Not just him!” Junko denies. “I went all around the world, handcuffed to him, as Mukuro pursued us. I've meet many people. I learned a lot! I'm not perfect, but… I like to think that… I'm getting better. And I didn't change for anyone but me.”
“Right.” Mikan scoffs. “I heard what they're calling you both now. Ultimate Hope, going around and helping people. Is that really you?”
“It is. Or, I'd like it to be. I've always liked helping people.” Her voice is soft. “I just had the wrong idea of how to.”
“Do you think this serves me?” Mikan asks. “You changing with no rhyme or reason, you running from me like you're in a goddamn slasher and I'm the monster, do you know how that made me feel? And now… Now you won't even fucking say you forgive me!”
Junko takes a step back, fear flashing on her face. Another difference; before, she was fearless.
“Mikan—”
“Hey, you forgive me for killing that woman, right?” Mikan turns her eyes to her, pleading. “You forgive me. That's what we always do when we meet up—spill blood. You made me kill my fucking parents and you laughed about it, so you can't be getting squimish now, right? You love me; you're the only one who does. You told me so yourself, so…! No one else loved me, not Koizumi or Mioda and definitely not fucking Saionji, you said that, right, that Imposter-san and Mitarai-kun were just using me, you promised me you were different, so why the fuck are you flinching at me, Junko Enoshima, like you're horrified at what you've created? I slit her throat and I laughed like always and you vomited and ran, as if you didn't teach me this, as if you haven't done this a thousand times before, so you must forgive me, right ? You can't be forsaking me, rejecting the me you sculpted with your own hands, RIGHT?!” She pants, and when Junko is pale faced and shaking, she yells, ”YOU FORGIVE ME, RIGHT , JUNKO ENOSHIMA?!”
“I… I don't, I don't—” She's trembling. “I don't blame you, but you can't do stuff like that anymore. You can't do stuff anymore. I won't forgive it anymore—I can't , Mikan , I can't.”
“But… you're the one who made me like this.” Mikan Tsumiki whispers. “You're the one who made unforgivable.”
Junko can only say: “I'm sorry.”
But just like she can no longer forgive Mikan, Mikan can't forgive her.