Junko strode down the whitewashed halls of Hope's Peak academy, students scattering in her wake. She chewed on one nail, scowling as her mind churned. She'd miscalculated, she could see that now. She'd always included herself as the less emotionally vulnerably person in her plans; people were tools and toys, to be played with and thrown aside whenever she had a scheme in mind. Who would have thought she'd be the one to shoulder the backlash this time around?

She had to get him back; because Makoto wasn't a tool or a toy. The scene with those useless boys had made her see the truth; he was more than that; he was her rival, her partner. Inexplicably special. Irreplaceable. The one light that would always match her darkness.

But her antics had driven him to a breaking point. And she didn't like the results. There was no joy here; no despair. Bleakness.

She blinked awake, realising she had frozen at the entrance to the bathroom, fingertips quivering where they rested on the frame. She observed it quietly, before lifting it to her heart, feeling it race. A confident smirk crossed her face.

It would be fine.

She wouldn't be so stupid this time. She knew when to treat valuable things with care.

She was Junko Enoshima.

And Junko Enoshima always gets what she wants.

She grinned, exhilarated. The hunt was on.

Wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

"Yo, Makoto!"

Makoto flinched backwards, snapped out of his daydream. He looked down in dismay, his shirt now splattered with specks of green paint, and sighed. He could already imagine his mother's face when she saw his clothes. He frowned. Maybe he could sneak them into a separate was without her noticing?

"MAKOTO!"

He jumped, glancing around, eventually meeting Leon's expectant eyes. He chuckled sheepishly, followed by an apologetic grin. "Sorry, Leon. I got caught daydreaming."

"Dude, I've been calling your name for ages. If I wasn't afraid that you'd faint on the spot, I would have grabbed ya by the shoulders and shaken you back to reality already. You're a total mess, dude."

Makoto blushed, and coughed awkwardly. "Sorry," he mumbled again.

"Haha, no worries man. I'm more worried about you dude. Anyway, Celestia's asking after you. You better skiddadle before she sends her minions after you." Leon said, almost apologetically. Makoto groaned.

"I'm never going to get anything done," he grumbled. "It's like everyone wants to talk to me nowadays. Wait, since when do you say skiddadle? That's so old!"

"I can mix up my vocab however I want, dude!" Leon insisted. "It's cool cause I said it, and I said it cause it's cool. Kapeesh? No wait, that forget I said kapeesh. That was lame."

"You're idiot," Makoto laughed. "Any reason why you're trying to change the way you talk?"

Leon went pink, and rubbed the back of his neck. "Nah man, I just. Gotta keep my image fresh. For the chicks, ya know? That's all it is. Yup."

Makoto smiled, but kept quiet. Leon glared in response, knowing Makoto was silently teasing him. "You run along and go play with little miss vampire wannabe, already, dork."

"I'm telling her you said that," Makoto deadpanned, feeling a thrill at the daring comment, but managing to keep a straight face.

"You wouldn't dare!" Leon gasped.

"You don't know that."

"I thought we were bros!"

Both boys matched gazes evenly. It barely held for a quarter of a minute before they both broke into snickers. Makoto pulled himself to his feet, putting aside his paintbrush in the paint tray beside him. "I'll be back soon. Hopefully."

"Have a safe trip!" Leon waved. Makoto laughed and left the classroom. His shoulders felt light, free from the responsibility of always watching Junko. It helped how supportive his class had been on the matter. Not that they had ever approved of the relationship when it was ongoing, but, simply put, he appreciated the lack of "I told you so."

He approached the set of stairs leading to the next floor, making sure to grip the handrail carefully. It was all for naught however, as he felt a sudden push mid-step. He tried desperately to correct his balance, but quickly lost the battle, tripping down head-first. A glimpse, caught in the corner of his eye, revealed the culprits. The panicked faces of two reserve course students, moving a heavy-looking cardboard between them. They must have backed out the classroom without seeing me…

It was his final thought, before he truly began to fall. His vision speared to rock side to side as he tumbled, the fall never-ending. As soon as it began, it stopped, and he relished the feeling of stable ground beneath his body as he reached the bottom. He gasped, winded and prone.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" An unknown voice called out to him, frantic.

"I think so," he mumbled. Slowly, he pulled himself into a sitting position. He winced at the subtle ache where he had impacted the steps in some areas. "I don't think anything's broken," he observed, lightly rubbing his arms. "I think I got out of this one okay." He managed a small smile, before his black began to suddenly creep at the edge of his vision. His head began to spin, and he tipped sideways, sense of balance disappearing. "That's probably not good," he managed, before his vision finally went black.

Wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

"…."

Slowly, Makoto faded back into consciousness. He was…moving? But he wasn't walking? To Makoto's muddled mind, that didn't make any sense. He frowned, common sense leeching back into being. His body He was suddenly jolted side to side, and he heard the distant sound of someone talking. He felt himself being lowered to the…ground? No, it was soft. A bed? A bed meant he was in…the infirmary. That was good. The infirmary is the right place to go when you get hurt.

He heard a door close and the rustle of nearby fabric. He blinked sleepily, letting his vision blur int focus and settle before turning his head to look around. The familiar scenery of the school infirmary greeted him, confirming his suspicions. His head cleared, common sense well and deductive abilities well and truly back where they belonged, he sighed. He settled in, pulling the sheets up around him. After all, knowing the school nurse, she'd never let him leave straight away –

He stiffened.

The school nurse. Who often had an assistant.

And since, if he hadn't lost too much time, it was just before lunch, that meant the nurse would be off having her own break, so she would be on duty once recess was over. Which in turn, meant that…

The sound of footsteps approached. Light and hesitant, they normally would have been nigh silent, but to Makoto's ears, it was as loud as his heart beating in his ears. He squeezed his eyes shut, feigning unconsciousness in a moment of panic. He once more cursed his luck. Ultimate Lucky Student? What a joke.

The footsteps stopped by the side of his bed. Featherlight humming could be heard as the person fiddled with something on a tray.

What am I doing? He cursed his cowardice and swallowed hard. Slowly, he forced his eyes open, confirming his fears. Mikan Tsumiki stood by his bedside, roughly chopped hair pulled back into an uneven ponytail, leaving an uneven fringe framing dark eyes. She had a couple of tools on a rolling table beside her; a stethoscope, blood pressure monitor, and something Makoto didn't know the name for, but recognised was used to check someone's pupils.

Humming, Mikan turned, only to finally meet Makoto's eyes. She squeaked, stumbling backwards, looking fruitlessly for something to hide behind. She gave up, and stood there, quivering and fidgeting. Makoto silently cursed himself for the third time in as many minutes. He'd managed to avoid the Ultimate Nurse ever since he first broke up with Junko, a borderline miracle considering his track record.

He broke eye contact, looking away, but glancing at her from the corner of his eye. She seemed more…normal, than the last time he'd seen her. The image of her drooling and blushing red, seemed seared into the back of his eyelids. He blushed second-hand at the memory. He fiddled with the sheets as the awkward silence lengthened.

What could he say? Could he trust himself to speak? What if he opened his mouth, and something awful came out? He bit his lip. Why did you make out with my girlfriend? It's your fault.

Thoughts, questions, they all sat, angrily bubbling like a simmering pot, on the tip of his tongue. He didn't speak. None of them were really fair. More than that, they were pointless. He had known very quickly, what kind of person Junko was. With time, she could wrap any person around her little finger as easily as a piece of chewed gum. Mikan was just like that; used, chewed over and spat out, twisted into a shape that served a purpose. It was just something Junko…did.

Walking in, seeing the two of them in that locked embrace; seeing the despair on Mikan's face, his first reaction had been anger, betrayal, heartbroken. She had cheated on him, hidden it, thrown him and their relationship away while all he wanted from her was a simple text back. But as he stormed away, as he took in the despairing faces on Class 77, hadn't he felt something else? Guilt.

"Ah, um. Uh. W-W-W-Would you like so-something to drink?" Mikan stuttered, wringing her hands.

"Ah, if you wouldn't mind," Makoto accepted softly.

As he watched her stumble around, he noted how…vulnerable she seemed. Makoto sighed, rubbing his face. He had repeated the mantra a hundred times during and after they dated. A thousand, even. I am not responsible for Junko's actions. I am not Junko's keeper.

And he knewthat was the right way to think. He was himself. In any normal situation, trying to take responsibility for another entire adult person was ridiculous.

But he and Junko weren't normal. He had willingly opened Pandora's box, and very quickly found himself overwhelmed and turned around. And yet, he continued on, convincing himself that he was being a good boyfriend, even as the lie gnawed at his heart.

He herded her to class when she tried to skip, but ignored the times she disappeared for hours on end, reappearing with a dreamy, manic expression that meant something drastic and despair-inducing had happened. He chided her for sneaking into the staff room and browsing classified documents, but he never did report it to the teachers. He stepped in when she being a bully, but pretended it never happened when he wasn't there. He texted her every day…but really, he had never really expected a reply. He pretended that everything was okay.

Makoto had run away because he felt guilty. Because as much as Junko had neglected their relationship, on some level, hadn't he done the same? Hadn't he been half-assing it, pretending Junko wasn't as bad as she was? Wasn't he essentially an accomplice? What the hell had he been doing?

Before he knew it, angry tears pricked at the corner of his eyes.

It was her fault. It was his fault. Her fault. His fault. Hers. His. She threw him away. Had he even ever tried? Had she ever actually cared? Had he? If he hadn't why did it hurt so much

Confused, frustrated thoughts looped around and around.

He was startled when a soft hand gently tapped him on the shoulder, and he found Mikan offering him a glass of water. He took it gratefully, giving it a quick sniff (Junko had thought it had been fun to spike his drink with a mild aphrodisiac one time. She had laughed at his suffering but nothing had come of it. Looking back, it had been kind of funny) and found it scentless. He took small sips as Mikan hovered nearby.

"U-um", she said hesitantly. "W-Would you mind if I do a quick check-over? You uh, really took a tumble."

"O-Oh." Makoto cleared his throat. "Sure, go ahead."

Mikan smiled, busying herself with her tools. "Left arm please," she said mechanically, slipping into professional demeanour. Makoto complied, and she strapped the blood-pressure band around his arm and monitored it as it tightened. Neither spoke. She noted down the results on a clipboard before grabbing an ear thermometer. "Um, please turn that way."

Running through the tests, they both remained quiet. "Please look here," she said softly, shining a light in his eyes. "Proper response. No apparent concussion," she murmured. "Y-You're all clear."

Makoto sighed in relief. A small reprieve.

"U-Um." He glanced up to find Mikan looking uncomfortable. She kept glancing left and right, wringing her hands and shifting her weight. Makoto had a bad feeling about this.

"H-Have you seen Junko?" she finally blurted out. "I-I-I mean, is she okay? S-She hasn't come back to Class 77 or, um, visited in a while."

Makoto gaped at her, aghast. She…had she really asked him where Junko was. Him, the guy dating the person she was cheating with. "No, I haven't," he said, mouth disconnecting with his brain. "Not since we, ah, broke up."

"Broke up?" she echoed. Her eyebrows furrowed, and she looked like she was trying to solve a difficult puzzle. "You…were dating Junko? You?" she sounded incredulous. Her face quickly morphed to shock. "Junko was dating somebody? But…but she said…"

Makoto struggled and failed to hide his own shock. "If you didn't know we were dating, why did you ask me in the first place?!"

"W-Well! Um! Y-You just seemed like the kind of nice person who would k-know everybody…" she mumbled. "And she's in your c-class. I thought you ran way because you were embarrassed," she added. "Y-Your face was pretty red, I think."

Makoto sighed. "No," he mumbled. "That wasn't it. And me turning up like that was an accident." His fingers twitched, as he tried to make up his mind. Should he ask? Was it too personal?

"What," he began, before hesitating. "What did she say to you?"

"H-Huh?"

"You said 'Junko said'. She said something to you, right?"

"Ah. She said…wonderful things…" Mikan sighed. A light blush worked its way onto her face and Makoto tried not to shudder.

"Like what?" he probed.

"She said I was pretty," Mikan twirled her hair with one finger. "That I was an incredible person. That it didn't matter what anyone thought of me. That she would always care about me more than anyone else. That I was a pig to be stepped on, and to lick her shoes. That I was useful and talented. That…"

"Hang on," Makoto interrupted, mildly horrified. "One of those is definitely not like the others!"

"Ehhhh~?"

"I mean. Uh. Hm. The, uh pig thing. What even?"

"Oh. Hehe. Forget about that." Mikan blushed.

"So I guess you really thought Junko cared about you, huh."

Mikan went stiff and began to glare. "She does care!" She hissed.

Makoto shifted uncomfortably. "Um,-"

"She said so! Nobody cares about me as much as her!" Mikan cut across, voice cold, but insistent. "She told me I was incredible! What do you know about Junko?! She loves me!" Her voice began to crack, and tears began to run down her cheeks as she wore a fierce glare.

Makoto stared, pitying and shoulders heavy. Mikan bristled at his gaze, and madness swirled behind her tear-laden eyes. But not, perhaps, as thickly as he had feared. She sounded desperate. And maybe that meant, Makoto thought, that she had doubts.

Maybe that meant she could be saved? He spoke quietly. "Junko really means a lot to you, huh?"

Mikan paused, sniffling. She nodded. "She was the f-first p-person to..." She sniffled again. "The first person who s-said I was incredible. That I was u-useful."

"Really?" Makoto replied. He kept the tone conversational. "I'm a little surprised."

"H-Huh?"

"Well, I mean," he puzzled to explain. "You're the Ultimate Nurse. Isn't that amazing on its own? You're one of the most talented people in the world! And I mean, with how skilful you are, I'm sure you weren't just naturally this good, right? You must've practiced really hard, right? Working that hard at something, I can't even imagine! It's amazing!"

Mikan stared at him, an indescribable emotion dancing across her features. "Amazing?"

"I mean, I don't whether you know, but I'm my grade's Lucky Student. And I'm not even really that lucky, not like Nagito-senpai. So I don't even have a real title. So take it from me, someone completely average." He reached across and grasped Mikan's hand. She stared at it in wonder, before meeting his eyes. "You're an absolutely amazing person, Mikan. You're talented, hard-working – I mean you're here helping out all the time, right? – and on top of that you're really nice and pretty too. Anyone who says anything otherwise are lying, or just jealous."

Mikan was silent for a moment. "If you're just a lucky student, why did Junko decide to go out with you?" she asked instead.

Makoto smiled sadly. "I don't even know myself. She is pretty sadistic, and a supermodel. Maybe she thought it would be funny?"

A fresh wave of tears began to roll down Mikan's face. "I don't deserve them," she whispered. "Those kind words – you've got to be lying. Someone like me – A pig like me – I don't –"

"Why would I lie?" Makoto demanded, gripping her hand. "What do I have to gain? I'm some average guy. I'm not even trying to convince you that Junko was wrong. I'm saying she was right – that you are an amazing person, and you deserve to hear it. Do you hear me, Mikan? You deserve these words."

Makoto wasn't sure when or why he became so determined to push this point. This was the girl who had created that final crack that had splintered him and Junko apart. He had resented her, avoided her. But really, she was a victim of a problem he'd been too hesitant to confront.

"You deserve to hear them," he repeated. "And I'm sure I'm not the only one who thinks so."

Mikan sobbed.

"How many people do you treat here per week, Mikan?" he asked softly. "What on earth would we do without you?

"Ahh, I haven't heard so many kind words before," Mikan laugh-sobbed. "I-I don't know what to do."

Makoto hummed, letting her ride out the tears. Wiping at her eyes with her bandaged arm, she manages a wobbly smile. Their eyes met and Makoto felt breathless. The crude despair and madness that had so readily ebbed and flowed there had once again been buried, or otherwise banished. Now they sparkled, bright and full of hope, even as tears stained them red. The horrible – he couldn't help but describe it as a 'taint' – that the despair had caused was gone. He felt light and strangely energised. He could have jumped for joy and danced with Mikan in that very infirmary he felt so amazing.

Hope. He remembered Junko talking about it. The absolute opposite of despair. Bringing hope; did Junko feel something like this when she caused despair?

The bell trilled, signalling the end of class, and the beginning of lunch.

"Ah, I b-better clean up!" Mikan worried. "The nurse will be here soon!"

"Oh god," Makoto paled. "Celestia was waiting for me. How long have I been here? I think I'm going to die. Mikan, can you, I don't know, write me a note explaining I fell down the stairs or something?" he panicked.

Mikan giggled, and he stared at her, surprised. She looked so…carefree. "I'm sure I can do something!" she said happily. Makoto watched her bustle around, grabbing some bandages, before scribbling something on a pink slip. "Here," she passed him the note. "And this," he said, holding up the cloth bandage, "isn't really necessarily since you're not that badly injured. But, um, I'm sure it'll help make them forgive you, so I'm willing to apply it if you'd like!"

"You're an actual angel, Mikan," Makoto weeped.

After being appropriately examined and bandaged, and still feeling rather sore, he was really to be released. "Looks like I'm ready to go!" he announced.

"Hehehe, I'm glad we got to talk!" Mikan giggled, before reaching out and pulling Makoto into a tight hug from behind. He spluttered in surprise and blushed, desperately trying to wait it out, as Mikan held him tight for nearly half a minute.

"M-Mikan, s-sorry, but I've got to go," he mumbled.

"Mhmm." She responded, finally releasing him. "I'll s-see you soon though, okay?" She smiled, staring in a strangely intense manner. Makoto smiled back, slightly unsettled.

"You know me," he joked. "I'll be back before you know it."

"Right!" she chirped. "You're so clumsy, hehe."

Finally extracting himself from the situation, he let out a sigh as he stepped back into the hall. That had been…an experience. Now, to find Celestia…

"Makoto Naegi…" Mikan murmured, blushing. "He's so nice…"

Hey, I'm back with another update! This chapter was brought to you by the most accurate depiction of falling down stairs you've likely ever read, courtesy of the time I managed to fall down three sets in as many months last year, and walked away with barely a scratch. My friends don't even bat an eye at this kind stuff anymore though. They just grumble something weird about luck and continue to ban me from raffles. Weird. See you guys next time!