Naegi drew back against the mattress as Junko smiled down at him, wishing he had a way to put even more distance between them. Her bright grin wouldn't have been out of place during any moment of that first year they'd spent as classmates… but now, a lifetime away from those carefree days, the sight sent icy shudders slithering across his skin. She looked so much like the girl who'd been his friend… and yet she wasn't. The girl he'd known would never have intended real harm to another one of his friends.
Or rather… the girl he'd thought he'd known. Because whether he wanted to admit it or not, the girl locked in the data center with him was the same Junko Enoshima who'd spent two years with him and the rest of their friends. If she could do something like this… he'd never really known her at all.
And Alter Ego had been the one to remind him of that crucial fact. Without the AI's intervention, Naegi didn't know how long it would have taken him to remember that the Junko he knew now wasn't his friend. Alter Ego had freed Naegi from the power those false beliefs had held over him… and Naegi knew he couldn't let his friend be hurt in retaliation.
And that meant that he couldn't keep backing away when Junko raised an eyebrow in his direction and prompted, "What's the matter, sweetie? Don't know how to handle a girl once you've got her?"
The superficial nonsense coating her words barely even registered now. He could hear the meaning beyond it, the threat she hadn't bothered to speak aloud. If he couldn't persuade Junko otherwise, she would go right back to the computer keyboard. Even now, as she kept her eyes on him, one hand fell to rest on the desk beside her, fingers drumming near the keys.
"You don't have to do this!" Naegi burst out, before he could even think about whether it was the right approach. "He's just like the rest of us, he can't do anything to you anymore — he isn't a threat now! And — and if he can't fight back, then — then isn't it just a one-sided fight?"
She shrugged. "And?"
There was only one argument left that he could make. Naegi met her gaze squarely and said, "And that means you don't have anything to care about. A one-sided fight would be boring."
Junko went still. For a long moment she stared at him without moving a muscle, not even the faint quiver of drawing breath. It might just as easily have been a corpse sitting in that chair, the bright smile on her lips twisting into the eerie grin of a skull.
And then — she laughed. Not Monokuma's wild cackle, not the schoolgirl giggle, not any of the sounds she'd used to punctuate her conversation — but a deep, full belly laugh, as though she'd just heard the funniest joke imaginable. Her whole body shook with the force of it, slumping bonelessly back against the seat as she let it rock through her.
Had he made a mistake? Naegi bit his lip, wondering if he'd misunderstood her. The way she'd been talking had made it seem like she hated anything that bored her… but how could he believe it when so many of her other words had been lies? Why had he thought this one was true?
He cast frantically back through his mind, trying to come up with some way to mitigate the apparent damage, to convince her that it had all been a misunderstanding — but her laughter cut short before he could, just as abruptly as it had started. Junko grinned at him, and any words he'd meant to say fled from the terror of her smile.
"What a nice thing for you to say!" she said, bouncing up in her seat and clasping her hands at her chest. "I never thought that you would be so sweet and nice to me, after everything we've been through together! Wow — you must think we're really good friends, huh?"
Naegi was pretty sure that this was a question with definite right and wrong answers… but he couldn't quite work out which one was which. His mind whirled from option to option, discarding each one before he could even fully consider it.
"Aww… too shy to answer?" The fond smile Junko sent his way reminded Naegi uncomfortably of the way someone might look at a particularly endearing puppy. "That's okay — I know exactly what you meant!"
Naegi blinked, trying to decipher her words. The pain in his head had begun to ease a little, but even the ability to think a little more clearly couldn't help him work out what she was trying to say. Was she being sincere or wasn't she? Either way, it wasn't very reassuring.
"I know you agree with me, sweetie," Junko went on, leaning down towards him until she was nearly bent double. "I mean, you must! After all, you asked me for the kind of favor that only a really close friend would grant, right?"
Now it was Naegi's turn to freeze, his muscles locked in place by an icy grip. He'd asked her for a favor? She couldn't be talking about his plea not to hurt Alter Ego, could she? Surely it wasn't a favor to ask her not to murder an innocent person in cold blood… was it?
He looked up at Junko Enoshima… the girl who'd already killed so many of her friends… who'd killed her own sister… and he realized he couldn't be sure.
"Hmm? What's the matter?" Junko's voice sounded as though he'd broken her heart — but her smile never even wavered. "Are you trying to say that we're not friends? That you weren't trying to ask me for an extra-special friends-only favor? Is that it?"
"No!" The word burst from Naegi's mouth before she'd even finished her question. He didn't need her to make the threat any more overt — what she'd said already made it perfectly plain.
"Oh? Then you're saying you agree with me?" Junko asked, her eyes growing large and wide.
Naegi grimaced at the idea of conceding her point — but with Alter Ego's life in the balance, he didn't dare try anything else. "Yes."
Junko tilted her head to one side, looking innocently confused. "You know, it's pretty hard to understand you when you're being so vague about everything. Why don't you try saying what you want me to hear?"
Naegi's throat tightened, tongue freezing behind stone lips. She… she couldn't really want him to say what it sounded like, could she? Not… not really?
"Unless you didn't really mean it…?" Junko raised an eyebrow.
He didn't have a choice. He pried his lips apart, glaring at her all the while, and spat, "We're friends."
Junko looked at him a moment longer — and then ever so slowly, her face fell. "I don't believe you."
He stared back in disbelief. "You — what?"
She shook her head, eyes quivering with — with wetness? Was she actually pretending that he'd made her cry? "I don't believe you — not if you're going to say it like that." She sniffled. "But you know… I think after all the time we've spent together, maybe I can give you the benefit of the doubt. I'm sure you didn't mean everything I thought you said before… so I'll let you try one more time to convince me." She gave him an imploring look, and somehow managed to force a tear to trickle down her cheek. "This is your last chance, sweetie… tell me how you really feel about me."
Naegi wished with all his might that he could do just that. He could feel a scream trying to claw itself free of his throat, full of all the pain and anger and grief she'd caused to the people he cared about, people she'd hurt for no reason at all. They'd all called her their friend once, and she'd used that word to cause them unbelievable pain. How could she demand this from him now when she hadn't wanted it before?
But he swallowed the scream back, forcing it back down to churn through his stomach with nauseous fury. He couldn't say any of that, no matter how much he wanted to — the computer screen glowing behind Junko was proof of that. He'd watched too many of his real friends suffer and die to sit back and let it happen to another… not when he had the power to stop it.
He took a deep breath, trying to release the tension from his jaw long enough to tell the lie she'd demanded. Even the thought of it made the sour heat of vomit burn against the back of his throat — but no, no, he couldn't let himself focus on that, not if he wanted this to work. He had to think about Alter Ego, who somehow hadn't died… about the other students who wouldn't get such a miraculous second chance… about the friends he'd left to mourn his own apparent death.
He thought about Byakuya, who had somehow found the strength to move beyond a despair that had nearly destroyed him… and he looked Junko in the eye with as much sincerity as he could muster. "We're friends."
A brilliant smile lit Junko's face. The sight of it made Naegi's skin crawl, as though she'd splattered sewage across his face and shoulders. He still wore two days' worth of blood and grime on his skin, but he'd never felt so dirty as he did in that moment.
"That's all I wanted to hear!" Junko glanced over her shoulder at the computer screen. "But if you interfere with my computer systems one more time, the deal's off."
The green writing flickered once more, and then the monitor changed to display Alter Ego's face. "I won't do anything else."
Junko nodded once, sharply.
Alter Ego's image looked past her, to where Naegi lay. Naegi wasn't sure how much the computer screen could pick up of what he was doing, but he tried his best to smile anyway. It hurt to force his mouth into the shape, like he'd almost forgotten how to do it — but he persevered anyway. Alter Ego deserved that much at least.
And maybe he had a way to see it somehow, after all, because Alter Ego smiled back. "Thank you, Naegi. I won't forget how much you've done for me."
