A/N: This is a repost of a discontinued fic that I deleted a few years ago. I've decided to revive and continue it.

'Who… Who is that?'

Mukuro stared down at the body displayed within the casket. It was a woman's body - She had long, blonde hair that was let down, spread across the cushioned insides of the coffin. Her pale skin seemed to be almost completely white, and stuck out sharply against the pure black cloth that covered up everything below her shoulders. She had no face.

'No. No, who is that? Stop.'

She saw flashes of red. She saw a knife piercing through a body. Then she saw a bullet. Bullets. And a car crash. And a lightning strike. And a burning body. And there was the body underwater, drowning.

Then, tiny details started to pop up from the surface of the corpse's skin. They kept accumulating and overlapping until finally, Mukuro found that she could barely make out her face. A small, pointed nose. Light, blue eyes caught in a dangerously sharp gaze.

No, scratch that. She was closing her eyes.

And that smile.

'That smile?'

Her mouth was turned slightly upwards and closed tightly in a small, almost modest smile. It was wrong. So wrong. Her mind felt foggy and unfocused. How long has it been like that?

Mukuro absent-mindedly brought her hand up to her lips. She wasn't wearing any gloves, so the mark of Fenrir was displayed plainly for all to see, not that it mattered. The fingernail on her index finger searched until it found a loose tag of skin. Once it did, she dug in and brought up her thumb to tear it off. It stung, but she hardly noticed.

A hand was placed on her shoulder - Sudden, unwanted, physical contact. If it were a month or so ago, she would have instinctively retaliated, or pulled away as fast as she could. Now though? She didn't care. She didn't care about the concerned whispers in her ear either. All she could care about was the dead body in front of her. Why did it look so familiar? Why was it that the longer she stared at it, the heavier that knot in her stomach felt? It wasn't as if she were unfamiliar with corpses. In fact, she was responsible for hundreds of them.

The hand drew away, thankfully. Warmth returned to her shoulder. Her eyes shifted slightly downwards. Her suit was wrinkled and there was no tie. She must have forgotten it. There was grass at her feet. It was a beautiful, vibrant green. She quickly returned her full attention to the corpse.

More hushed whispering, louder this time. And more of them. A cacophony of voices, some familiar, some unfamiliar. It all served to confuse her even further. Where was she? Where was she? 'Where am I? Who is that? Where am I? Why am I here? Where's Junko? Who is that? Where am I? Where am I?'

Someone appeared by her side. They said something. She shivered.

…

Finally, her eyes managed to tear themselves away from the body. She looked up and turned to face the person besides her.

'Ah. That's right.'

'That's right.'

"-rry. I really am. I… She was…" He shook his head. "Sorry. I'm not good at this kind of thing. It's just… I never expected for something like this to happen. Mukuro, if you need to talk… We're always here for you."

She looked back down at the body. It was Junko. Junko Enoshima. Her sister, and the person she loved the most. And the only person she had. And everything. She's dead.

'Stupid.'

"O-Ok." Mukuro muttered.

Somehow, his face managed to grow more concerned. "Are you okay? No offense, but you don't look very good." He hissed and shook his head. "Wait, no. I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking. It makes sense, considering what happened."

"It's fine." She said. She knew how terrible she looked. Her hair was oily and unkempt - It must have been weeks since she had last showered. Her lips were a scarred mess of scabs and patches of blood. As evident by her slightly sunken cheeks, she hadn't been eating much either. "Excuse me."

She quickly walked away, unsure of where she was going. All she knew was that she had to get away, get away from all of the suits and flowers and Junko and whispering and eyes and people and Junko and death and apologies and Ju -

She looked up. The sun was shining brightly. Too brightly. There were barely any clouds on the pristine, blue sky.

'Whatever.'

Mukuro kept walking until she found a nondescript white van. She tried to open the door to the passenger seat. It was unlocked. She sat down and locked the door before closing it. When she looked at the driver's seat, she saw that just outside of the windows, someone was there. He was looking around, as if searching for…

She shook her head and quickly crawled over to the driver's seat. She brought out her keys and turned on the van. Without sparing a second glance at him, she backed out of her parking space.

How long had it been? She didn't know. She didn't care.

Mukuro blinked a few times and suddenly, she was in a room. It was hers.

'I.'

An apartment. Almost like a box. When was the last time she had been here? She couldn't recall. She almost always spent her nights somewhere else. Like at makeshift camps or settlements. Or more recently, dorm rooms. Or more recently, Junko's house. Or more recently, somewhere. Anywhere but here. But here she was.

She crouched down and stuck her arm under her bed. Yeah, it was there. She pulled out a duffel bag and opened it. A gun. Empty. More guns. Empty. Emptier. Broken. Models. A knife? No, something cleaner. Quicker. There were more knives. An entire collection. None of them would be good. A grappling hook. Why? Oh, that's fine.

There was a loud ringing noise that filled her ears. It was very annoying. It made her head hurt. Why had she done that?

She used the knife to cut off the hook. Now it was just a grappling rope. Or a rope, if you wanted to call it that. 'It's a rope. Shut up.' It was long. Very, very long. Long enough. Too long. She cut the rope more until it was just right. It was frayed at the ends and loose strands stuck out and had an odd, musty smell but that didn't matter.

It didn't take long for her to fashion a good, sturdy noose and found that it fit quite snugly around her neck and now where to hang it from oh yes she just got on top of her bed and stood up and oh there's the knife but she had more so she stabbed all of them on the wall closely together fit tightly and cleanly and she jumped off her bed and pulled it far far away where it wouldn't hinder her and why was it so then she pulled a stool up where did it come from she didn't know she almost always spent her night somewhere else so she didn't even know that and she tied the rope and ' There's nothing. No Fenrir. There's no war. No.. Junko..' tied the other end of the rope to the knives and pulled and it held it held sturdy and firmly and nicel

*knock knock knock*

'WHAT.'

*knock knock knock*

"Mukuro! Are you in there?"

Her eyes darted around. Her suddenly rapid and shallow breaths sounded as loud as gunshots now. Why now? Why him? What was he doing here? How? 'Followed? '

Careless. How careless.

…

*knock knock knock*

…

The door knob twisted. She hadn't locked it.

And 'oh god here he is why'

He stood there. For years, he stood there. His eyes widened.

And in an instant, he was just before her. He was shouting something. He -

She was on the floor.

…

Makoto was hugging her. Someone was saying something. Someone was walking around. They were at her apartment. She didn't know why they were there. But Makoto was here. He was hugging her. And there was no rope around her neck.

'What happened?'

She hadn't been here before. Bright lights, soft bed, warm air. It was all very strange. She tried to remember how she ended up here, but she could barely recall anything. All she could remember was Junko's dead body. Dead, but perfectly beautiful, preserved and embalmed in a dark oak casket with pink crystalline engravings. So lavish! Extraordinary! Just like her. In every aspect, she was quite the sporadic person, always getting hyped up about something, whether it be travelling, fashion, or despai-

Mukuro sat up from the bed as a sudden wave of nausea overtook her. She gagged and put her hand up to her torn lips. After a few seconds of dry heaving, her stomach eventually calmed and she found herself once again at awe of her surroundings. It was such a plain room - Junko would have hated it. She would have probably called the plain white blanket 'drab', or 'boring'. The void-black walls? Despairingly plai-

She doubled over. Sickly pain, beyond anything she had ever imagined. It circulated in her veins, crawling its way through her body like thick poison. Tears swam in her eyes. She tried to put an arm out to steady herself, but her hand missed the bed and met nothing but air. Her body, already leaning towards her arm, tumbled and fell like a sack of bricks. The cold hard wooden floor sent a dull reverberating pain through her. Immediately, the beginnings of a painful headache began to form.

'What's wrong with me?'

'Fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck'

She began to salivate, uncomfortably warm puddling in her mouth. She propped herself up from the floor with her hands and knees and vomited. Right there, on the clean floor. It smelled terrible. It felt terrible. It was so thin, a broken gray with hints of yellow and all liquid. The puddle spread quickly through the floor, thinning itself out even more. She felt the repulsive water crawl under her palms and knees. The sickly warm saliva and bile felt like acid on her skin. She hissed and pushed herself up from the ground, quickly righting herself up on her feet. But as soon as she found herself standing, the room began spinning. Around and around, black dots like static popped into her vision and that familiar feeling of nausea returned to her stomach.

She put her hand on a nearby dresser to steady herself, but the sickly, slippery liquid covering her palm caused it to slip. She fell back to the ground, managing to smash the side of her head into the bed frame. She screamed, mostly out of frustration, and instantly regretted doing so. Her voice was so loud. It hurt her ears, and seemed to somehow echo in the room. Her ears began to ring and the room only spun faster and faster. She could only lie there on the floor, a pitiful slug in a puddle of her own vomit. Tears kept pouring out her eyes, and the only thought that ran across her mind was 'Why?'

Loud footsteps. Somewhere. From somewhere, she didn't know. She didn't care. It was far off, distant, in another world.

She wanted to leave. She wanted to find Junko. She wanted to find Junko. She wanted to find Junko. She needed to find Junko. She needed to find someone. SOMEONE. Fenrir. Junko. Makoto. Anyone. Why couldn't they just understand? She was a soldier.. A fucking soldier. The Ultimate Soldier. That's what everyone called her. That's what she lived for.

'JGSDF. I need them.'

Apply. Yes, she should have no problem getting in. The Japan Ground Self-Defense Force. That would fix her. She would be fixed.

'I just wanted her to be happy. That's it. THAT'S IT. I never wanted any of this.' She thought bitterly to herself, as if those thoughts would empower her. Or fix this. Or do anything. 'Why can't I do anything?'

Mukuro had never felt so disgusted. There were so many things she wanted to do. But most of all, she wanted to just get up and leave.

But she couldn't. She just couldn't. It was like there were weights tied to her limbs. She just simply didn't have the energy to move more than an inch at a time. She was angry. She was tired. She was upset. She was scared. She was everything. Everything.

There were more footsteps. Door. The door knob twisted and right there, on the floor, covered in bile, a series of images flashed through her mind. A rope. Knife. Door. Makoto. Classmates Acquaintances. Funeral.

' Oh. Oh god I tried to kill myself. And I failed. How could I fail at something so simple? All I needed to do was PUSH.'

The door opened and Makoto entered the room with panic clear in his movements. He probably heard her scream. So, was he the one behind all those footsteps? Yeah, that was safe to say.

How long had it been since they were in Hope's Peak together? A year? Probably less. Maybe more. She didn't know. He seemed to retain the same look as when they had first met. The only difference now were a couple of inches in height and a barely visible stubble on his chin.

His eyes locked with hers. They looked the same too. Bright. Full of life. Hopeful.

"M-Mukuro. What happened? Are you alright?"

She opened her mouth and gaped at him like a fish. Then she cleared her throat and began speaking: "Where am I?"

She half expected to just throw up again, right in front of him. But she managed to keep it down. 'Thank you.' Her heart raced and raced and raced... It was okay though. Okay, okay. Calm down. Be normal. It's FINE. Just take deep breaths. You're fine.

"Erm, this is the guest room. In my house, I mean." Makoto said. He stuck out horribly up against the black walls. It was disconcerting. "I was downstairs when I heard you scream. What happened? Why are you on the floor, and…"

He frowned. "What's that smell?"

"It's… nothing. Why am I at your house?" She stood up, this time with no issues. Looking down, she saw that she was still wearing the same clothes from the funeral - A wrinkled suit and dress pants.

"W-Well, after what happened… Um, we just didn't want to leave you at your apartment, with all of the weapons and stuff." Makoto said, scratching the back of his head. Like her, he was wearing a suit as well. Unlike hers however, his seemed to be properly maintained. "So we decided that it might be okay if we brought you to my house, since there's no one here except for me. And you now, I guess."

His frown grew deeper as he looked back down at the floor. "That… Oh, did you get sick?"

After a moment of hesitation, she nodded. "Don't worry about it. I'll clean it up and leave soon. Thanks for trying to take care of me, but I'm fine."

"Mukuro, I'm not trying to be rude, but you're not ok." He shook his head. "You… I mean, what happened earlier… We need to get you help. I know someone - Her name is Miaya. She was the Ultimate Therapist back at Hope's Peak."

She glared at him. Her hands were trembling, but she didn't know why. She hoped he couldn't see them. "Makoto, seriously, I'm alright. I don't know what came over me, but it won't happen again."

"Please. I really am worried about you. Everyone is." Makoto said, face softening. "You don't have to go through this alone. We're your friends!"

"Friends?" Mukuro asked. "We haven't even seen each other in almost a year."

"You invited us to her funeral, didn't you?" He asked.

"I… I did?" She blinked. If she were to be honest, she didn't remember much of what happened before the funeral. It was all a blur.

"Mukuro. Please."

…

"Fine." She said. "Whatever. I'll meet with your therapist later. Can I leave now?"

He shook his head. "I don't want you to try and hurt yourself again."

She had to restrain herself from throwing her arms up in frustration. It wasn't as if she was planning to try and off herself again as soon as she left. She would be fine. Why did he have to care so much? It was getting on her nerves.

She wanted to argue further, but from the look on his face, it was clear that he wasn't going to budge on the matter. So she just sighed and crossed her arms.

"Fine." She repeated. "But if I'm going to stay here, can I use your restroom? I need to clean up."