The past week had been absolute hell on Junko.

Not in the fun way. There was no despair to be had - just sheer, unadulterated tedium that dragged and dragged and dragged.

The Future Foundation, throwing bodies upon bodies against her cute, two-shade robots, with their guns and their tech and all the nothing else going for them. Well-trained was useless if it didn't apply to what you were fighting against, and Monokuma units were pretty much designed to counter sensible group tactics.

Because she had so many of them, and so many still coming - thanks to dear Souda, streamlining the procedure to absurdly economical levels, requiring little beyond scraps metal and fumes, which the contaminated world still had in spades. Junko Enoshima wouldn't be running out of her cherished mascots anytime soon, but it was still annoying to facilitate replacement units for the ones that got shot down in her stronghold's defense.

Then came the Monokuma unit specifications themselves, which were tailored for damage. Fragile metallic bodies seemed like such a stupid idea at the time - and seeing that Genocider bitch somehow carve a few of her teddies in a vain final stand reinforced that notion - but she'd ultimately been won over with the Ultimate Mechanic's newest addition (at the time). Bombs. Big, big bombs, filling practically a third of the robot's inner cavity. Add an "n" and a "b" and you've got frangible, which was a lot cooler, he said. It'll be like the best part of fireworks and ground glass, he said. And he'd thankfully been right.

Try to think of it less like a knee-high bear and more akin to a two-toned, seventy-five centimetre fragmentation bomb with claws.

By the hundreds. In action. In transit. In production.

Against the - generously speaking - dozens of Future Foundation members. With only their impeccable, unarmored suits protecting all the squishy bits they needed to live.

It wasn't a decisive weapon, her mechanical brainkids. It wasn't even that good a killer - what with the need to get into stabby range while still being weak to stabbiness despite the robo-ness most would assume made them resistant to. The Monokumas were designed to rip and rend and weather people down, and they kicked ass. Sharp and dirty claws, menacingly adorable glowering eyes, explosive surprises when they went for the running cuddle...

Yet every night since the announcement of her personal pet project, those killjoys had come and gone, almost always limping and battered and bleeding by the end of their short nighttime excursions, then coming back the next morning with new well-dressed meat for the bear grinder. It was an annoying cycle and she couldn't break the stalemate, what with the other logistical nightmares...

Like how the fuck does one get Civet Coffee while the world was literally starting to suffocate in its own waste? And authenticity seemed so doable at the time...

Which left The Ultimate Analyst precious little time to actually drop in on her personal ant farm. The only reason she had the window now was because some important looking guy - you could always tell by the weird hair color - took a blast at bowel level, leaving the half-dozen unharmed survivors scrambling away with their tails tucked and dying and dead (poor girl didn't even notice) comrades draped over their back earlier than usual. She'd have to remember that for next time.

Mukuro always said plans fell apart without the brass up top backing the grunts. And she wondered what sis would have had to say, if she were still here.

Sis would have been great to have about now, flat chest and gangling limbs harassing the Future Foundation's amateur fighters. Life would have been easier... but where was the fun in that?

Speaking of fun, there were things to do and people do bother. Her personal bear quaked gradually in activation, the glint of a solitary red eye transfixing and transmitting the tinted camera feed. Claws folded neatly into its fake paws, and her effigy padded its way towards the cafeteria.

Teacakes and warm Rose Hip. It would probably do for now.

After all, what kind of headmaster would she be if she didn't go above and beyond for her students - even for the ones as troubled as Sayaka?

The other students stared at her stand-in with what was a nice change of pace from their muted horror: bafflement. As if bears didn't eat... she ignored the gawks and made her way to one particular dorm room, locked up tight as usual.

The bear set the tray aside for a moment to knock at the door, all polite and all. Manners maketh a woman.

"Hey, sweetie. It's me... come to talk for a bit." Junko implored, voice filtered and as comforting as she could make it. "Open up, please?"

Nothing. Pssh.

"Please, Miss Maizono. I'm sorry I couldn't make it earlier. I promise this is for your own well-being..."

And again, silence. Which was getting old very quickly.

"Alright..." Monokuma began, tone modulated to dejection. A claw began to jut out from its pawed sheathe. "I'm coming in, okay? Steer clear of the door."

The bear hopped to grab the doorknob, twisting and wrenching the stubborn lock. A few moments later, the latch snapped off. Both sides of it. What was left was a tiny circular-ish hole where it used to be, exposing a blue-haired girl on the bed, knees drawn to her chest, pointing something at the door.

"I hope you don't plan to use that on me." Monokuma deadpanned, eyeing the leveled kitchen utensil bemusedly. "It'd be a shame to have you executed again. I've got a feeling it'll stick this time."

It wasn't even sharpened! Freaking amateur!

The Ultimate Idol shook her head, dropping the blade on her bed with concerning abandon. "What do you want from me?"

"I brought you a snack." The bear offered, plodding the tray down on the cabinet by her headboard. Th Idol turned her nose at the gesture. "I'm not hungry."

"In case you change your mind then." Monokuma corrected, hopping onto the bed to the other occupant's silent irritation. "How are you doing?"

"What the hell do you think?" Sayaka coldly rebutted, staring at the bear with seething loathing. Fair, Junko supposed. Monokuma remained silent. "You're a sick, sick monster hiding behind this bear and that camera."

"You aren't wrong." Junko replied, before continuing. "But what does that make you, then?"

"A horrible, horrible person." Sayaka admitted, rubbing at her shoulder. "But nothing like you."

"And do you want to be me? Because you've attempted to kill double the number of people I have this week. That you think I know of..."

"Never!" Poor thing, too scared of what she didn't want to be - she wouldn't be getting anywhere with that mindset.

"Because you're getting there, at this rate. Snapping like a twig after a little bit over half a week and a single motive..."

"You did this to us. You." The Ultimate Idol quietly reminded, fingers balled into trembling fists - one more than the other.

"I do see the camera feeds." said Monokuma. "How's your arm?"

The Idol flinched, hugging the offending limb in question to her chest. "None of your damn business."

"Swearing doesn't suit you, Sayaka." Junko chastised. "And I might be able to help you there."

"How the hell are you planning to help me? What with everything you've pulled - what you've put all of us through?!"

"Simple, really. You've been bullied. That nasty hammerlock Junko had you in nearly popped your shoulder out. We can get a trial running in maybe an hour flat, and I'll punish her accordingly. Everyone wins except Junko." Monokuma assured, clapping its little paws theatrically, then pantomiming a bow.

"L-Like how you did me?" Her grey-blue eyes widened in horrified recognition. "No, no, no. I won't do that. I won't let you."

"Shame, really." The bear shrugged, pistons jutting and rolling under its shell. "Offer still stands though, in case you change your mind."

"I'll never put anyone through what you've done to me."

"And you must have thought the same about murder and/or suicide, maaaaaybe four or five odd days ago."

A bit of silence, unimpeded. Sayaka's face turned complicated in the most interesting of ways.

"Sorry about that, really." Monokuma consoled, rubbing a paw at the back of its head. "Came here to cheer you up and sorta got carried away."

"You're just trying... I don't know, but you're trying to do something to me. To my head. Just admit that and stop lying about 'caring' when you do this kinds of things."

"Alright, you got me about the care bit. But bear's honor, I'm genuinely trying to cheer your sulky self up, Blue. Not even talking with my usual tactless charm here. It's sooooo very boring - really out of character too! - but I'm doing this for your sake here, and this 'lil bear might appreciate a bit of gratitude."

"But didn't you want this? ALL OF THIS!? The despair and guilt and loathing?"

"Well, yes, but no. Well, not this quick, I guess. There's no fun it it when it happens like this. Pacing's off - pretty disappointing, not gonna lie. Despair isn't something you plunge into headfirst. I've got people like that, and it's soooooo very boring. Like, 'despair this' and 'attack that', or maybe swap them out with 'blackmail' or 'cannibalism' if some of the others are feeling adventurous. No, it's something you... vaguely-saunter-downwards to. It's like... have you ever made chocolate from scratch?"

The Ultimate Idol quelled her indignance, though her head shook with anger. Junko chose to assume it a no for expediency's sake.

"Well, I have - in like the metaphorical way too!" Junko exclaimed, launching into an excited diatribe. "You see, there's this little thing called tempering involved... keeps the chocolate scrumptious! It's got a very specific consistency you need to draw out by fiddling with the heat in really - I mean really - precise ways. Mess it up and you get this ugly, waxy, unpalatable thing that's dense as a brick and blooming all over. Like that last batch of weirdos I converted. Or my sister a couple years back to this guy she really liked. Messed it up real memorably...upupu...chocolate on the ceiling, somehow..."

Said irritation gave way to confusion at the segue, which the Monokuma pointedly ignored in favor of their spiel.

"Buuuuut, do it right and you get crunchy, gooey, crispy, tender, perfection! Which I'm planning for each and every one of you!"

". . . W-What does that mean? What the hell does that mean?"

"It means you're a first pancake Miss Ultimate Idol." Mirthless, clipped, disappointed. "And believe it or not, I'm too attached to just toss you out on principle. You need help you aren't getting. You need something to go right eventually, or you'll keep cracking in such predictable ways."

"So you're just watching us from the glass like ants? Is that all we are to you?"

"No, actually. You're all so beautifully important to me - in ways I both doubt I could explain and you could understand, so I'll save my breathe and your brainpower. But if you people were this distant... glass... anthill... then what's the fun in flooding the exhibit in water when I know exactly how that'd turn out? Why would I waste my time working towards something so mundanely predictable? Bear's got better things to do than that, you know?"

"But you are! That's all you're doing!? Stomping on mounds a-and pulling off antennas and whatever the hell you're doing to us!"

She didn't get it. It was almost sad, and not in the satisfying way for once. The words came with resignation Monokuma channeled perfectly through its speakers.

"My God, kid. It's like... pulling the wings of a fly, or stapling a puppy's ears to their head. Shallow people get their rockers of that, even though it's so painfully, gosh-darn predictable. Because they're shallow and sad and pathetic about what they want, so they indulge their cruelty and claim it's curiosity. Which is why I came here. The real reason, bear's honor. You're there making these stupid, suicidal, expected decisions that leave me bored out of my two-toned skull. I don't blame you for that, I promise. I've been mishandling your circumstances, and now it's less a graceful descent and more of a messy, messy crumble. So we're changing the circumstances."

Junko saw it: The hitch in her breath. The hand going for the blade, for the little good it'd do. Widened eyes, wracked with nerves and fear. Lips bitten, close to breaking the skin - would, at the slightest provocation. The Ultimate Analyst sighed from behind the screen.

This would be the only pleasant surprise Sayaka Maizono would have this entire game. It was almost sad, really.

"Calm down." Junko instructed - no, promised, once the Idol heard what she had to say. "I've freed your hostages."

"Freed?" The Pop Sensation took a moment to process, then immediately draw the wrong conclusion - written all over her face. Heard in her throaty, rasped breaths that quickened and quickened and quick-

"No-no-no! Sheesh, stop overthinking everything!" Junko chastised, before the Idol passed out and left The Ultimate Analyst in an awkward situation waiting for her to rouse. "Freed as in alive! Not freed from life! Alive! I'm not a Bond villain here. All four of them, oly-oly-oxen-f-r-e-e!"

"You're lying!? Why would you do that?!" Sayaka frantically insisted-slash-questioned, eyes flitting around manically. "Stop taunting me!"

"Because I don't lie. I haven't lied, ever, since this all kicked off. Lies aren't fun for me - trust me on that much." Monokuma assured, paw over where a heart would be - if it were both human and non-robotic, that is. "But hey, it's a free country. Believe what you will, even if it hurts and remains most probably wrong."

Contemplative quiet, as the blue-haired wreck stared at her reflection in the only glinting surface near her. The knife shone brilliantly in her slender grasp.

"Feel free to go for the 'In Water' ending if you feel the urge, but don't do that until things get a bit better. It becomes more pathetic than poetic when you're impulsive."

"What?"

"Nothing. Ask someone else if you really wanna know." Monokuma rebuffed, changing the topic. "I've taken the liberty of delaying the next motive for a few more days, so you can try to patch things up of with whatever and whoever you want to. Or investigate the school for clues like some of the others have started. Dealer's choice, really."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Would you believe it's because I care?" Monokuma asked innocently, batting eyes that flickered an image of a shaking, disproving blue moped head. "I actually do, be-tee-dubs, but if you insist I need a new-fangled metaphor for what I've got going... think of it as feeding the yeast before I bake it into my pretty little cake."

Sayaka silently lost herself in the reflection on polished steel, zoning out listlessly. Maybe she'd put it to use eventually - the thought did excite Junko, though she refrained from commentating as herself. Monokuma was all she needed for the moment, and either it'd happen or it wouldn't.

"You're taken care of today, and tomorrow. You will be on your own after that, though, so make the most of it, eh? Alright? I'd be super disappointed if you kept all that spiraling formulaic and stuff, when we could have all these pretty, unpredictable colors taken to different places. I'm glad we had this talk, Sayaka. I feel like we've gotten a teensy bit closer today. Sorry about the door though - you'll have to make due without a lock for a couple of days. Hope you last long enough for the replacement!"