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“Who am I?”
Ikusaba Mukuro took a pause, considering the question posed to her.
Since her death, Ikusaba Mukuro had fallen into a routine, similar to the one she sported before. Wake up at 5AM for a morning jog, and basic weightlifting routine, preferably before her classmates got to the gym. Make a simple breakfast. Read. Sometimes she would go swimming in the afternoons. The Ultimate Soldier was a creature of habit and found the week she spent pretending to be someone she was not quite distressing, actually.
Maybe something good had come out of Tragedy. Maybe there was hope in despair.
And since she was a creature of habit, her cohabitants in this afterlife quickly picked up on her quirks. They knew how to avoid her, and they knew how to find her. Both were troublesome.
With a heavy breath, she slipped a finger in her book, marking the page for her eventual return. Maizono Sayaka stood above her, silhouetted by the afternoon sun. The courtyard air was balmy and comfortable. It was almost always balmy and comfortable.
“I do not believe I understand the question, Maizono-san,” Mukuro said rather plainly. She watched the Ultimate Pop Sensation shift under her gaze, uncomfortable but determined to proceed. Pity.
“Who am I?” Sayaka tried again, holding her head up high, far too proud for someone reduced to this status. “Without the group.”
Her group. Ah yes, those girls. One was supposed to be alright, the last time she checked, which was what, a few weeks ago now? How long had she been dead? Punctuality could mean life or death for someone in her line of work. And yet Junko, her sister proved time (much like everything else) could bend under her will. They kept at least some hostages, or at least that’s what they asked of Mioda and Saionji. Who knows if they actually followed the rules, especially when it pertained to their rivals in entertainment. Whoever lived must have had a miserable time doing so.
What a silly question to ask, anyways. Mukuro was an open book now, knowing there was nothing anyone could do to stop the plans. Why hide? It’s not like her information mattered now. Anything in the world, and that’s what you want to know?
This was a brief moment of vulnerability for Maizono Sayaka, something she had not seen in their time as classmates. The mask only occasionally shattered three times under the pressure of the Tragedy. Once when they have first presented the ultimatum. Once on her birthday. And once when Class 78 realized what went wrong.
A vulnerability that could easily be weaponized. Instead, Mukuro placed her book down to the side. She didn’t care about despair. Not anymore. Maybe not ever.
“The same person you were for two years without the group,” Mukuro watched for any sort of slip or tell, something to show emotion. Instead, she faced the stony wall known as Maizono Sayaka. “You would only perform on school breaks. Pretty and popular and vapid.”
All she could do was stare, stare at the way Sayaka’s hair moved in the wind, almost liquid in nature. Stare at the way her milky skin glimmered in the light. At her ocean blue eyes. Why hadn’t I ever noticed her eyes before , Mukuro thought to herself, feeling herself get lost in their depths? Feeling herself drown.
After a moment of silence, Sayaka shook her head, hair moving in inky sheets. “Then why can’t I remember?” She asked, her voice broken, broken, and real. “Why can’t I remember?”