“Does it bother you?” Mukuro asks.
Mikan only laughs, as if the question is ridiculous. “Does it bother you?”
Mukuro pauses, her gaze studying her. Mikan can never read her, not really. Frown lines, empty eyes. Mukuro Ikusaba is a girl she doesn't understand, and who doesn't understand her. That's fine; that's okay. Mikan can swallow it, because she knows just as her, that Junko is the one who matters.
There's no hope in that gaze. Not like Junko. If hope is a natural extension of despair, Mikan wonders if Mukuro can even understand either, with such hopeless eyes. That must be it; the true reason Junko calls this girl ‘Disappointing’. Hoping for nothing, wishing for nothing, despairing at nothing. Only good for following orders; a soldier, a dog, through and through. Mikan doesn't understand Mukuro Ikusaba; but she does understand Junko.
“I don't mind.” She lowers her gaze. “But not everyone is like me. Not everyone understands how Junko shows her love.”
Mikan paused, anger lighting her brain like quickly sparking fire. As if Mukuro had poured gasoline, then struck a match. “Are you saying I don't understand my beloved?”
Mukuro stares up at her with nothing on her face. Nothing to her, just nothing. “Most people wouldn't.”
“Well, I do.” Mikan answers, simple and furious in the air, the words snapping like a whip cracked. “Do you?”
“I understand Junko-chan best.” It's a prideful thing, but her voice isn't prideful. It is bland. Like unsweetened milk, completely devoid of anything that isn't neutral and natural. Like it's a fact; Mikan scoffed, snorting.
“I doubt it.”
Even that, Mukuro Ikusaba took with steady hands and a blank face. If she is troubled, she does not show it; back unbent, gaze steady. Face on lockdown; like a shield, like armor, wearing her usual gloomy frown. Nothing cracked her; nothing but Junko.
“My understanding is…” She speaks slow, as if measuring and weighing her words, “Most people would mind the scars she leaves.”
“I like them,” Mikan challenges, gaze aggressive and daring, her head tilting high. “I'll be owned no matter what. I'd rather be owned by Junko.”
Here, and only here, does Mukuro's gaze waver. She glances down, as if unsure, but those eyes are still flat and empty.
“You're… fine with being a toy?”
“As long as she keeps me.” Mikan murmurs, true and sincere in her mouth. It burns. “If I'm used by her, all the better. That means I am useful; that my life has meaning, has value. The real question is…”
Mukuro glances back up, as if hooked by her words. Mikan smiles, bright and furious.
“Are you fine with being a weapon?”
She has no answer for her; Mikan didn't expect her to.