Mukuro Ikusaba opens her eyes one last time… and stops moving.

Junko releases a tremulous breath. She watches wave upon wave of emotion crash through her sister's eyes, relentless, confused, betrayed – eyes pale and blue as the sky, bright as ice and just as beautiful when they freeze – and she shakes.

She shakes and shakes and shakes… she shakes…

"Oh! The power of promises!"

Junko is shocked not to recognise the sound of her own voice. The interjection "oh" comes out in a quivering treble, "power" in a bellowing bass, and the word "promises" does not come out at all.

She shakes and shakes and shakes and shakes… and, oh! It creeps up on her, crawls over her, slithering grotesquely like a thousand serpents from the tips of her toes to her fingers to the hole in her heart. Junko doesn't know what this is, but ooooh… this is what she's been looking for!

The bastards disperse. In the dead of a night no darker than the day, Junko leaves to collect her sister. She strides into the gymnasium, her presence pounding through the room with the beating of her heels. A fairly standard sound, which grows into a hollow click c-click click click as she registers a pool of blood about the size of a small pond and breaks out into dance.

She shakes… she shakes and shakes and shakes and shakes, and with a squeaky little "oh," she trips, her knees and her elbows and her cheek meeting half-dry florescent pink with a squelch and a faint burning sensation. The stagnant, metallic stench of blood bursts through her nose and settles in her sinuses and makes her sigh. This has always been Mukuro's smell. Always.

Junko crawls onto her sister's corpse and plants her forearms on either side of her motionless head. She grins.

"Did you see the looks on their faces, onee-chan?"

Somehow this causes Junko to giggle uncontrollably. Somehow, it's hilarious. Her head rolls back and her voice breaks mid-cackle. She can't hear her own heartbeat – she can't tell if it's racing away or paralysed – she simply feels a weight in her chest. A good weight. A wonderful weight.

Mukuro makes no move to acknowledge that she did, in fact, see the looks on those bastards' faces. Junko frowns, and gives her sister an open-palmed whack around the ear. This whack isn't half-hearted at all, but strength was never Junko's strong point – that's what her big sis was for – so it makes no mark. She sighs.

"You're such a fucking bore." Absently, she tucks a few strands of hair behind Mukuro's ear. Then, she slides up onto her knees with a vacant gasp. "I know just the thing for that, Mukuro-chan!"

Granted, her chest feels like a brick, but that's not the reason Junko has so much trouble with her next move. She grabs her sister's pleasantly cool hands and tries to gain solid footing so as to pull her up – strength really isn't her forte – but it takes an immense amount of effort. Junko struggles for several moments, her hands sweaty with something like excitement, and finally gets a grip (though dubious at best) on the sinew of her sister's back.

"Eins, zwei, drei!"

And with that, Junko bounces off, spinning Mukuro around and around so that all she can feel is the air and the weight of the body and the heaviness of her own chest.

She spins and spins and spins and spins… she spins… and then she pulls herself to a halt with an excruciating screech of her heels on the floor like nails on a chalkboard. Her fingers are caught somewhere in the segments of festering flesh that line her sister's back like craters, and she laughs. Mukuro is still smiling a faint, sad smile, and Junko can see the pain of her last moments frozen in her gaze.

Junko shakes again. She shakes and shakes and shakes and shakes.

"For fuck's sake," she hisses all of a sudden, "Why did I have to make the move? You should have betrayed me, Mukuro-chan. That would have been so much more fun!"

A growl forces its way from Junko's throat and she pushes her fingers into her sister's flesh to calm herself down. The pure, unadulterated despair of this all is hitting her like a thousand bullets straight out of Mukuro's favourite toys, and the pain is magnificent.

"This is what we've worked for, onee-chan." Her tone softens. Junko ignores her previous words and kisses her sisters cold, dull lips, smiling into the taste of blood. "Come on–"

Mukuro isn't heavy, Junko's just weak. Awkwardly, she manages to scoop her sister's body into her arms.

"Let's go!"