ᴬ ᵈᵉᵛᶤˡ ᵒʳ ᵃᶰ ᵃᶰᵍᵉˡ

A shiver runs up his spine at that voice: one that could easily be pleasurable or painful. He simply can’t say. How strange it is to be so inexplicably drawn to somebody he so inexplicably can’t stand. She’s an Ultimate; and one with a perfectly harmless talent at that. He should adore Junko Enoshima. And yet there’s just something…offputting about her, in a way that keeps him coming back.

 So, like a well-trained dog, he stops and waits for her to catch up. 

“How kind of you to worry about me. Don’t worry, it’s probably just the lighting. I feel fine today.”

  She smiles as he stops to wait for her. In her analytical mind, she can tell that he isn’t comfortable around her. Maybe that’s why she goes out of her way to see him. She doesn’t care about him at all, honestly. He’s nothing but a hope fanboy. Which made her WANT to watch all the hope leave his eyes for good. 

  “Hmm... If you say so.” Well, her lie got him talking to her. So it doesn’t matter if it’s true. “Are ya busy senpai? I wanted to ask you to help me with something. After all, you’re like, super smart!”

“W-Well…no, it’s not r-really that bad…”  it wouldn’t scar unless it got infected, which it only would if it was untreated. So Mikan was glad that Enoshima had come to her. She gathered a thing of antiseptic cream and bandages.  She gently cleaned the wound and began dressing it. She hated watching others bleeding or in pain.   “Um…if you don’t mind me asking…what exactly happened?” The wound looked a little…clean…as odd as that sounded, it didn’t have the signs that usually came with a wound from a fall. It would of been inflicted on the fashionista by someone…

  Well practiced acting allows her body language to shift. Her muscles tense and her fists clench in her lap. Someone who got so bored with their own personality could easily learn to make new ones. At least, if they were as intelligent as she was. A frown tugs at her lips and her blue eyes seem to want to hide from the nurse. 

  It’s easy to pretend to be sad when you’re always fucking miserable. When every second you are full of despair. Even if despair was a rush for her. She could still remember the taste of it before. Those awful memories were all repainted. A new light shone on them. The light of loving despair. She’d show Tsumiki soon enough. 

  “Don’t tell anyone but... this guy grabbed my hair and slammed me into a table.” It was a lie, but you would never know. She was hopelessly good at lying, after all. 

  “Senpai... I’ve got to hand it to you.” She knows how to manipulate. When to stoke the fires of fear, when to hurt, and when to LOVE. It takes all three to make a person follow you. To become their GOD, you must apply pressure to the right places. 

  “So I gotta ask...” 

  Her classmates were so cute an innocent. Some more so than others, and HE is the most naive. Despite being a virtual NOBODY, everyone found themselves attached to him. Hell, even she can admit there is a charm. Even if it’s just because she can’t wait to see his hope evaporate into DESPAIR.

  “Komaeda-senpai!” She calls to him, her tone the exact epitome of innocence. Soon enough, she’d had him wrapped around her finger like the ugliest ring. It was almost fun, toying with him. He’s too far from the norm. She almost doesn’t know what to expect from him. With a talent like hers, it wouldn’t be that way for long.