Junko Enoshima stared blankly into the air in front of her, lazily resting her head on her hand, bored beyond belief. She was deaf to the bustling sounds of the Hope’s Peak Cafeteria around her, and blind to the movements of her prodigious classmates. All she could sense were her lackluster emotions and the annoying sound of her sister’s voice. Mukuro Ikusaba spoke with a sincerity and care that rubbed Junko entirely the wrong way.

“Something wrong, sister?” she asked. “Anything I can do to help?”

“No despair,” Junko mumbled, not bothering to look at her adjacent twin.

“What did you say, Junko?”

“No despair,” she repeated, this time loud enough to be heard. “None of these people are experiencing despair. I want to feel it through them, feel their despair. But they’re all living perfect high school lives.” She groaned. “It’s the worst.”

“Well, on the bright side,” Mukuro smiled, “You seem to be feeling some despair yourself. Isn’t that a good thing?”

This remark annoyed Junko enough for her to turn her gaze sideways to glare at her twin. “We’ve been over this, you goldfish. Boredom and disappointment are not despair. Despair has to be caused by something. Something tragic, something dreadful. Boredom isn’t despair, it’s just nothing. It’s of no use to me.” Junko had nothing clever to say to be mean to her sister, so she resorted to basic abuse: “Think before you speak next time, you dunce.”

Mukuro was unfazed by Junko’s insults, having grown used to them over years of living with her. She thought for a moment. “Why don’t you cause me to feel despair?” she suggested. “If it’s for you, I don’t mind.”

Junko’s blank, bored expression reappeared. “That’s not good enough. True despair isn’t voluntary, it’s something that comes to you without you intending it. That’s why I can only easily give it to others, and not myself. And it’s why I can’t make you feel despair; you’re too much of a doormat.

“Sorry, Junko. I can try to be less of a doormat, if you’d like.”

Junko sighed. “My point exactly.”

Suddenly, in the blink of an eye, Junko’s entire demeanor changed. She went from an outwardly bored and dissatisfied girl to one seemingly upbeat, cheerful, and full of energy. With wide eyes and a cute smile, she addressed Mukuro for a moment as though she didn’t see her as a constant annoyance.

“Well,” Junko said with optimism, “Everything’s gonna be just fine! ‘Cause all we have to do is sow the seeds of despair! No more waiting around for us, big sis; we’ve got to get to work if we want to see our despairful vision fulfilled.”

Mukuro nodded in understanding. “I see,” she said. “We can take some time to plan and find a way to create despair soon. By tomorrow, I’m sure we’ll have something.”

“No, silly!” Junko said, somehow turning the word “silly” into a vicious insult. “I can’t wait, I need to see some despair right now!”

“It’s very short notice,” Mukuro said, concerned. “How are you going to cause despair without any preparation?”

Junko transformed in a fraction of a second from her cute persona to a vulgar, loud one with no concept of manners or appropriate tongue location.

“Because while you were talking nonsense like a fucking idiot, I came up with an awesome despair-making game plan! Pay attention, dipshit, here’s how it’s going down…”

Glasses appeared on Junko’s face seemingly from nowhere as she pointed across the cafeteria and her voice took on a cold, analytical tone.

“Seated together at that table are Sonia Nevermind, the Ultimate Princess, and Teruteru Hanamura, the Ultimate Cook. They’re preparing to share a friendly meal that Hanamura has prepared himself, presumably in an attempt to impress a woman— something he has never successfully done.”

Mukuro understood where she was going. “You’re going to sabotage their food?”

Junko’s glasses disappeared, and she adopted a casual demeanor with mannerisms that might be used by a normal, predictable high-school student. “Very perceptive, Mukuro. I think your IQ has gone up to double digits! Specifically, I’m going to give Sonia the worst lunch of her life. Now, before you rudely interrupt me again, I’ll tell you how I’m going to do it.”

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a bag containing a fine red powder. “This is made from the infamous ghost pepper, one of the spiciest foods on the face of the Earth. This is going to make its way into Sonia’s meal and turn Hanamura’s cuisine into a despair-filled banquet of fire! You’re going to distract them, I’m going to lay the trap.” With enthusiasm she concluded, “Let’s make some despair!”

Mukuro hesitated. “Hang on, isn’t this a bit underwhelming? Making someone’s food too spicy seems rather… trivial.”

Junko huffed and looked to the side. “Look, I’ll take what I can get. This is the best I can do right now. Maybe later we can do something bigger. Sound good?” Without waiting for an answer, Junko assumed her “Fashionista” identity; a stereotypical blonde bimbo with the linguistic skills of a middle school student. “So, like, come on, sis! Clock’s ticking!”

The Despair Sisters approached the table of their soon-to-be victims with a plan and a purpose. They exchanged a subtle nod, then Junko went into action. She waved and talked loudly as she walked up to Teruteru and Sonia, having no regard for her own dignity as she got their attention.

“Like, hey guys!” she said. “What are you lovebirds up to?”

The “lovebirds” comment caused Sonia to blush while Teruteru suppressed a chuckle and inappropriate comment, trying to maintain his poise. Sonia said, “Hello Junko, Mukuro. My friend Teruteru has prepared a lovely meal for the both of us, and we were just about to start eating. What brings you to our table?”

“Oh, we just thought we’d pop over and say hi!” Junko said, putting as much innocence into her voice as she could manufacture. She subtly tapped Mukuro on the leg: that was her signal.

“Ah, wow,” Mukuro said quickly, stumbling over her words, “that looks really good. Do you mind if I try some?”

Teruteru grinned smugly. “Sure thing, baby, you’re always welcome to have a sample. And if you really like it, I might let you sample something else, too.” He winked in a way that would disturb anyone with even a vague sense of decency. Mukuro ignored him as she grabbed a piece of sushi and put it in her mouth. With Sonia and Teruteru watching in anticipation of Mukuro’s reaction, Junko made a few quick, imperceptible movements. When her task was finished, she too was watching her sister.

Mukuro didn’t need to act to show her appreciation for the food. “Wow, Hanamura, this is really good. Such a great combination of flavors! Well done.”

Hanamura puffed out his laughably tiny chest. “Well, I am the Ultimate Chef. It’s just what I do.”

Junko stepped in. “Anyway, we just wanted to stop by and say hi. You two enjoy your meal!”

Junko led Mukuro several feet away, then stood in a spot where they wouldn’t be noticed by the food-eaters.

“Did you do it?” Mukuro asked quietly. “Did you get the pepper into her food?”

“Of course, I did,” Junko whispered back. “Who do you think you’re talking to? Now watch; Sonia will suffer, and Hanamura will despair!”

And watch they did. Sonia said a few words to Hanamura, then clumsily scooped up a bit of food with her chopsticks and ate it.

“There it is,” Mukuro whispered. Junko just watched hungrily, anticipating the coming fallout.

Sonia sat still for a moment, staring down at her plate. Then, her face lit up. With a broad grin and stars in her eyes, she turned to her friend and started raving, presumably praising the food she’d just eaten. Mukuro was dumbfounded.

“You did put the pepper on, didn’t you?” she asked.

Junko frowned. “Yes. I know I did. I guess… she liked it? Ugh, how annoying.” She turned and began to leave. “Come on, Mukuro, we’re going. There’s no despair here.”

Mukuro continued staring at Sonia with a mixture of awe and fear. “That’s inhuman,” she whispered. “The power of the ghost pepper, and she doesn’t even flinch? She must have incredible endurance.”

“You can fantasize about princesses later,” Junko scolded. “Right now, follow me, or I’ll break your arm to see if I can’t wring a little bit of despair out of this lame situation.”

Mukuro ignored the threat and nodded. “Coming, Junko,” she faithfully replied, and the two left the cafeteria and its hopeful students to their hope-filled perfectly balanced lunches.

Meanwhile, Sonia couldn’t stop talking about the brilliance of Teruteru’s cooking.

“It’s like nothing I’ve ever tasted before!” she exclaimed. “It’s so bold, so powerful, almost overwhelming. It’s magnificent, Teruteru, truly!” She took another bite and pondered. “I think the closest to it I’ve ever had was Indian food, but even that doesn’t hold a candle to this.”

Teruteru hummed thoughtfully. “Indian, huh? I wasn’t expecting that comparison. This is mostly a Japanese dish. Hey, do you mind if I take a bite of that?”

“Of course, help yourself.”

Teruteru did just that. He took a piece from Sonia’s plate and slowly ate it, making sure to savor and analyze each flavor. For a few seconds, he sat still.

Unfortunately, Junko and Mukuro were out of earshot by the time he started screaming.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

In front of the Hope’s Peak Academy Main Building sat two people who were as close as kin. These two would follow each other to the ends of the earth. They shared a bond that would truly stand the test of time. Brought together by fate, these two knew they could put their faith and hope in one another. These two were Mondo Owada and Kiyotaka “Taka” Ishimaru, the bros of Hope’s Peak Academy’s 78th class. They shared an unbreakable bond.

Junko loathed that bond. She would break it at any cost.

For a while, she observed her prey from a hiding spot nearby. Mukuro, a master of stealth, had helped her pick out the perfect location from which to eavesdrop. To Junko’s displeasure and Mukuro’s satisfaction, the two found themselves pressed against each other even as Junko peered around the corner of a stone column, prepared her scheme, and listened in.

“Bro,” Mondo sighed, “Thanks again for your help today.”

“Do not sweat it bro,” Kiyotaka replied, grinning from ear to ear. “It is just what bros are for.”

“I know, bro. I just wish I could repay you somehow.”

“Bro, our continuing broship is all the repayment I need.”

“Bro…”

“Bro.”

Junko muttered, “I’m feeling nauseous.”

“So,” Mukuro said, “How are you going to sow despair this time?”

“Easy,” Junko grinned evilly. “Envy. The hearts of men are corrupted by envy. I’ll make Owada feel jealous of his ‘bro’, and the whole relationship will fall apart. It’s a foolproof recipe for despair!”

Mukuro silently pondered her sister’s words. “Out of curiosity, what corrupts the hearts of women?” she wondered.

“Puppies,” Junko tersely replied. She emerged from their hiding spot and began walking over to the couple she couldn’t wait to tear apart. “Wish me luck!” she said to Mukuro as she made her usual external transition to “Fashionista Mode.”

Mondo and Kiyotaka’s conversation was interrupted by the sound of a girl on the hunt for despair.

“Hey, Brotaka!” Junko shouted as she waved and approached. “What’s up, my man?”

“Brotaka” was startled by his classmate’s sudden familiarity and was unsure what to do as she walked up and put her arm around him. He fidgeted nervously while Mondo looked at the unlikely pair with bewilderment.

“Ah, miss Enoshima, it is a pleasure to see you as always,” Taka managed to get out. “If I may ask, why—”

“That’s En-bro-shima, remember?” Junko corrected, to the bafflement of both men present. She still spoke with the voice of a fashionista, but she was going all-in on a bro vocabulary. A brocabulary, one might say.

“Hey, bro,” Mondo said, eyeing Junko suspiciously. “Is Enoshima a bro of yours?”

Before Taka could respond, Junko cut in. “Yeah! We’ve been broing around for a while, Brotaka and me! Just today we bro’d it up in the brofeteria and had some brofast. It was the bro, bro!”

Junko wondered for a second whether she had laid on the “bro” too thick, but Mondo nodded in immediate understanding, apparently unshaken by her bro saturation. Taka felt the need to interject.

“Bro, this is not what it looks like! I do not dislike Enoshima, but we are not true bros! Please believe me.” Taka tried to push Junko away, but could not bring himself to apply enough force to get free of her grasp. His fear of harming his classmate prevented him from forcing her away.

“Aw, don’t be like that, bro!” Junko exclaimed with a massive grin of friendliness and broitude. “Just today you told me we should meet up later and engage in some brotivities! And like I said, I am so down! It’s gonna be brodacious! Brotacular! Brostraordinary!”

Kiyotaka stared in a mixture of confusion and horror. He had no memory of the events Junko described, but it seemed obvious that she believed they had taken place. Was it his memory or hers that was faulty? Had they made such arrangements and become so close only for him to forget? Taka felt shame at the thought. How could he have done something like that? There was also the possibility that Junko was lying, but Taka’s trust in his classmates prevented him from believing that to be the case. Surely the fault was with him. How could he explain this to his classmates?

Mondo stood silently for a minute, examining Junko and Kiyotaka, deep in thought. He sighed. “Bro, you didn’t tell me you were making other bros.”

Taka was at a loss. “Bro… I-I…”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Junko remained a bro on the outside, but on the inside, her mind echoed with despairful laughter. Mondo’s envy had been drawn out. Soon, both Mondo and Kiyotaka would experience the despair of losing a bro. Victory was assured. Suddenly, Mondo smiled and gave a thumbs-up.

“Dude, that’s awesome!” he said. “I’m glad you finally took my advice. I’ve been telling you to branch out, and it looks like you’ve found a pretty cool new bro. Nice job, man!” He grabbed Junko and pulled her into a one-armed headlock. With his free hand, he gave Junko Enoshima what the bro community refers to as a “noogie.” As he rubbed his fist abruptly back and forth on top of her head, Junko felt a part of herself dying.

As the noogie concluded, Kiyotaka continued the conversation. “Well, uh, yes, of course. It was, uh, surprisingly easy.” He smiled nervously. “It’s just like you said, all I had to do was put myself out there and be inviting. Even I am surprised by how easy it was.” He looked at Junko. “Enbroshima, I appreciate you broing it up with me. How—uh, Enbroshima?”

Junko, now free of Mondo’s grasp, had frozen in place with her expression stuck in one of disbelief. She seemed to be paralyzed by some great internal strife, but Kiyotaka could not determine what that strife might be. Gently, Kiyotaka tapped her shoulder and tried to take her mind off of whatever was causing her pain.

“So,” he said, “do you want to go do that thing we were going to do?” Taka was unsure to what he had agreed, but he was willing to do whatever it was for his new bro’s sake.

“Actually,” Junko said distantly, “something has come up. I’m afraid I won’t be able to go with you today.” Without further explanation, she turned and walked away from Hope’s Peak Academy. Mondo and Taka were left standing alone in front of the building once more. When she had gone, Mondo gave Taka a dirty look.

“You told me I was the only one who called you ‘Brotaka,’” he complained.

Kiyotaka raised his hands defensively. “You were, I swear!”

When Junko had made it a block away, Mukuro met up with her. She was in just as much disbelief as her sister.

“What just happened?” Mukuro asked, trying to make sense of what she’d witnessed.

“I made a friend. No, even worse,” Junko said in horror. “I made a bro.” She gagged. “I’ve been tainted with a sickening masculine hopefulness.”

“More like a sickening ‘bropefulness,’” Mukuro corrected.

Junko walked to the nearest wall and banged her head against it.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The Despair Sisters stood in one of Hope’s Peak Academy’s many hallways, lying in wait. Suddenly, one of them spotted her mark.

“I’m not even going to bother explaining this one,” Junko said. “Just stay here and watch. Or don’t, what do I care?” With that, Junko left her sister and approached Akane Owari, nominally the Ultimate Gymnast. In reality, Junko thought, she was the Ultimate Carnivore.

Akane spotted Junko before the latter said anything. “Hey, Junko!” she greeted her classmate. “What’s up?”

Junko put up a facade of despair, hoping the emotion she projected would be contagious. “I’ve got terrible news, Akane,” she moaned, voice quivering. “Just terrible.” She pretended to struggle to hold back tears.

Akane frowned in concern. “What’s wrong, Junko? Did something happen? Is there anything I can do?”

Junko shook her head. “There’s nothing we can do.” She took out a piece of paper and handed it to Akane, who took it and looked at it hesitantly.

The paper was a fake news article written by “Ikuro Mukusaba” (actually written by Junko Enoshima: the bad alias was supposed to throw others off the scent in case someone realized the article was a fake). It described the sudden and complete collapse of the beef-producing industry. A plague had infected 95 percent of Earth’s cattle overnight, rendering their meat poisonous to humans. Beef processing plants all over the world had shut down, it said, and beef could no longer be sold or eaten on Earth. The article solemnly concluded that this was a tragedy for consumers and lovers of burgers, steak, and ground beef around the world.

Akane didn’t read past the headline, which was “NO MORE BEEF, EVER,” before she believed the article’s thesis wholeheartedly. She stood in shock.

“No,” she whispered. “No, there’s no way.”

Internally, Junko reveled in Akane’s suffering. This was it! Akane would feel despair like she’d never felt before at the loss of a beloved food. Junko prepared for the waterworks. This walking food singularity was surely on the verge of a breakdown.

Akane sighed. “Well, I guess that makes things a lot easier for me.”

Junko barely stopped herself from screaming. Instead she said at a controlled volume, “What?”

Akane gave Junko a sympathetic look. “I know this is probably hard for you; I know what it’s like to love the taste of meat. Honestly, it’s hard for me, too. But, this is an opportunity to make a great change in my life!” Her eyes dropped to the ground as she smiled sadly. “For a long time, I felt kind of guilty every time I had lunch because I was thinking about what an animal had to go through to get that meal to me. Terrible living conditions, a painful life totally out of its control. I just felt bad for a creature like that, y’know?”

Junko just stared in disbelief.

“Anyway,” Akane continued, “Now that this has happened, I can stop contributing to the system that causes so much suffering to living things. If I have to cut out beef, I can probably cut out all the other meats, too, right? It’s worth a shot. In fact, the more I think about it now, the more I’m sure I can do it!”

“You’re…becoming a vegan? You?” was all Junko could say, still totally flabbergasted.

“Yep. I think I can finally do it! Maybe not a vegan, but a vegetarian seems like something I can be. It’ll be tough, but I’m not one to back down from a challenge.” Akane put a hand on Junko’s shoulder. “And hey,” she added, “I’m here for you if you ever need to talk. I’m no stranger to food-related despair, so I can help you work through it. Hey, maybe we can trade recipes!”

“That…sounds…great…” Junko said, no longer mentally present. “Anyway…got to go…later…”

Without any further acknowledgement, Junko wandered away from Akane in no particular direction. Akane’s gaze followed her.

“Poor girl,” she said to herself. “She’s going through a lot. I’ll have to return the favor later; she’s given me a blessing in disguise!”

Junko found herself in the courtyard after several minutes of idle walking and noticed her sister next to her.

“Looks like you made another friend,” Mukuro said solemnly.

Junko finally settled on a facial expression; a vicious glare. A glare directed not just at Mukuro, but at the world itself.

“Mukuro,” she ordered, “Get a shopping list ready. We’re having steak tonight.”

“May I ask why?”

“Revenge.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Junko tapped her nails repeatedly on the table. She was restless. Anxious. Annoyed. Uncomfortable. All of these things because she was stuck in the most hopeful environment in the world. Looking around the library, she was disappointed to see the room full of students happily studying their chosen subjects. Nobody seemed to be feeling any pressure, as Hope’s Peak’s general academic requirements were few. People rarely needed to visit the library to study, so its inhabitants were those who enjoyed being there. Bookworms, snobs, and computer geeks. One computer geek in particular, Junko noticed. She nudged Mukuro halfheartedly.

“Look over there,” she whispered. Mukuro looked over there and noticed Chihiro Fujisaki tapping happily away on a computer.

“Yeah, I see,” Mukuro whispered back. “Chihiro’s on the computer. Is something unusual?”

“No,” whispered Junko. “But I see an opportunity. Simple, straightforward. Chihiro likes that computer.”

“Yes,” Mukuro whispered hesitantly “That’s probably true.”

“So, I can use it to create some despair.”

“How so?”

“Give me your EMP las—” Mukuro covered Junko’s mouth before she could finish whispering.

“That’s a top-secret device. Please, please don't even talk about it out loud. And, I don’t think we should… uh…”

Junko glared at her twin in a very articulate way. Her glare said, give me that laser and get your disgusting hands off of my face in the next five seconds, or I will grind you into a fine paste.

Mukuro faltered under that glare and hurriedly pulled her hand back and gave the device to Junko. “No need for that, I’d rather not be paste.”

The EMP laser looked like a normal laser pointer, except that it brimmed with blue energy. One shot from the laser could supposedly permanently disable any electronic device. It suited Junko’s needs perfectly; she could use this and relish in the Ultimate Computer Scientist’s despair at the loss of the Ultimate Computer. At least, Junko assumed that was what Chihiro had named the laptop currently being used.

“Alright, Mukuro,” Junko whispered, becoming excited for her latest plan, “now you need to cause a distraction. Execute plan FROLLIC.”

“But, Junko,” Mukuro said, “Last time we did FROLLIC, I ended up in the emergency room. I have a scar from it. Can we maybe try something—"

Junko grabbed Mukuro by the collar and pulled her in, with no trace of her usual playfulness. “Listen, Mukuro,” she growled. “I’m desperate. I need a fix. I need to see some despair.” She suddenly softened, let go and looked down sadly. “Look, I really would like you to do this for me. It’s going to make my life a lot easier and give me a chance to see something I really want. I could use your help, big sis. Please, won’t you do this for me?”

Mukuro saw her sister in distress and felt immediate regret and shame. She bowed her head and quickly answered, “Yes, Junko, of course. I’m sorry for bringing you grief. I’ll do my best.”

Junko brightened up a little too quickly and flashed an encouraging smile. “Go get ‘em, tiger!”

Mukuro rose from her seat and walked over to one of the tall bookshelves which had a moveable ladder that could be climbed to reach the books higher up. She looked around to make sure she was visible and audible to everyone around Junko and Chihiro. Then, she climbed the ladder. She got up to fifteen feet off the ground and readied herself. Looking over the shelves close to her, she tried to identify a book nobody would mind being damaged. She settled on a book called Fanfiction: The Greatest Artform. Who would read garbage like that?

With everything ready, Mukuro executed plan Fall Right Off a Ladder Like an Idiot and a Chump.

She reached out, grabbed the book, then “lost her balance.” She cried out in “surprise” and, as the name of the plan implied, fell off the ladder. Most of the people in the library turned their attention toward the spectacle. When Mukuro slammed into the ground, a chorus of “Oohs” and sympathetic hissing inhales was shared by all.

Junko took the opportunity to fire the EMP laser directly at Chihiro’s machine. The beam made contact and Junko quickly put the device away with no witnesses. Junko felt a strong satisfaction at having ensured that the computer was completely ruined beyond all hope of repair.

Mukuro, with help from a couple of other students, rose from the ground holding her head and wincing in pain. Seeing everyone staring at her, she blushed. “I’m fine,” she announced. “I’m terribly sorry for the disturbance. Please, don’t mind me.”

“Don’t worry about it,” said one of the students supporting her. “Let’s get you to the nurse’s office.”

Mukuro nodded and let herself be escorted out of the library.

Chihiro turned his attention back to his computer, unaware of the schemes and machinations that had just unfolded and unaware of the archon of despair hungrily watching his every move. He quickly noticed that his screen had gone black and the computer had lost all power.

Junko observed as Chihiro became increasingly more frantic, trying fruitlessly to determine what had gone wrong with his laptop. As he struggled, one of the other members of the 78th class, Aoi Asahina, approached. From what Junko could tell, their conversation went something like this:

“Hey Chihiro, do you have any horrifyingly fattening baked goods I might gorge myself on but somehow face no consequences from?”

“No, Aoi, I’m busy freaking out because my computer stopped working and I’m a massive nerd.”

“Oh! Well, I’m too much of a ditz to understand what’s happening so I’m just going to stand here and look concerned, hoping that you will perceive me as helpful despite my uselessness.”

Junko figured it went something like that.

Suddenly, Aoi produced a screwdriver and handed it to Chihiro. With hurried but controlled movements, Chihiro opened the laptop to look at the motherboard inside. What Chihiro saw left the programmer visibly shocked. This time, Junko could hear the conversation from where she sat.

“Oh, no!” Chihiro said. “How did this happen? There’s no way a power failure like this should have occurred. I wasn’t running any abnormal programs, it was just normal use.” Chihiro sighed mournfully. “This is really bad.”

Junko covered her mouth but was enjoying herself so much that she had to let a small giggle escape her lips. “Puhuhu!” All according to plan.

“Don’t give up, Chihiro!” Aoi said, far too loudly for a library environment. Junko cringed at the raw hopefulness in the Ultimate Doughnut Addict’s voice. “You’re a computer expert, I’m sure you can find some way to make it work again. This computer’s important, right?”

Chihiro nodded hesitantly. “It has sentimental value.”

“So, you’ve got to try, right? And if I can help, I will. I believe in you, Chihiro!”

At this point, others in the library had started paying attention to what was going on. However, instead of being annoyed, all were eager to listen in and watch. Junko felt a cocky smugness. Despair had already won the day. The hope Asahina was trying to muster now would only make the despair Chihiro felt all the greater in the end.

Chihiro nodded, feeling suddenly rejuvenated by the support of a friend. “Alright. There’s one thing I can try; If I reroute a few circuits, I can get it to power up again. It’s risky, though; one wrong move and none of these parts will ever work again.”

A random library goer suddenly chimed in. “You can do it, Chihiro!”

Another said, “You’ve got this!”

A crowd began to form around the site. Junko joined in so that she could maintain a view of the spectacle; she wanted to see the outcome even though she already knew what would happen.

Chihiro took a deep breath. He put on a pair of anti-static gloves and said, “Alright, I’m going for it. Everybody stand back.” With dozens of eyes watching, the Ultimate Computer Scientist began an intense operation.

A quiet tension hung in the air. Junko waited with bated breath for the shift that would fill all present with despair. Chihiro’s hands moved like lightning, shifting parts and wires, holding down buttons and repositioning mechanisms nobody watching understood. After a minute’s work, he exhaled.

“Alright. Here goes; all or nothing.” He put the motherboard back in the laptop casing and closed it once more. With the whole room trembling in anticipation, he pushed the power button.

Seconds passed. Nothing happened. Junko felt triumphant, seeing that her classmate had failed in front of so many—

“Hey! It turned on!”

And indeed, the screen had lit up after a delay. The library erupted into cheers.

“You did it!”

“Way to go!”

“Chihiro! Chihiro! Chihiro!”

Chihiro felt an elation like he hadn’t felt in a long time, boosted by the contagious warmth and enthusiasm of those around him. Junko did not stay to indulge in it.

She left the library without a word, expressionless. Emotionless. She took out her phone and sent a single text:

Still no despair. Going home early. Don’t bother me.

And she walked out of Hope’s Peak Academy, pondering how cruel fate could be.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Junko,” Mukuro shouted between gentle knocks on the bedroom door. “Little sister, please talk to me.”

“Noooooooooooooooo,” came Junko’s muffled groan from behind the door, which made gratuitous use of far too many “O’s”.

“Junko, please,” Mukuro begged. “It’s been three days, you need to come out of there sometime.”

“What’s the point?” Junko whined pathetically. “There’s no despair for me out there. None that I want, anyway. In here, maybe I can get the despair of isolation. That might be something, at least.”

Mukuro leaned on the door. “This despair isn’t good for you,” she chided. “It’s going to make you go completely insane.”

“You may have a point,” Junko admitted. “It would be awful if I became some kind of psychopath. But still, why bother?” Junko made a pitiful sound that was a combination of a sigh, a groan, and a whimper. A sound so uniquely filled with hopelessness and despairlessness that no voice actress could ever replicate it. After making such a sound, Junko went on.

“The one thing I want is the one thing I can’t get any more. Despair eludes me, Mukuro. I’m losing my hope for it. And if I can’t hope for despair, what do I have? Nothing. None of either. Just a boring, empty existence. So leave me to it.”

“You have me,” Mukuro said quietly, and flinched when her sister burst out laughing. The laughter died down quickly, however, and seemed to have been more forced than genuine.

“Look, big sis, it’s over for me,” Junko said humorlessly. “I’m washed up. Done. Finished. Despair is over. Hope wins. Just give up on me. Go run off to join another dirty mercenary gang or find a guy with standards low enough to date you. I’m done being Ultimate. My plan is to waste what’s left of my existence and hopefully find just a bit of despair while I’m at it. Maybe I could get into MMORPGs?”

Mukuro gritted her teeth. “No,” she whispered.

“What was that, sis?” Junko asked. “I couldn’t hear you over the sound of our collective angst.”

“No!” Mukuro shouted, slamming her fist on the door. “That’s not okay!”

Junko perked up a bit at her sister’s outburst. “Oh? What’s the matter, soldier? Run out of ammo?”

“I can’t let you stay like this, Junko. You need to get up and get out of there. You’re obviously not yourself.” Mukuro sighed. “You aren’t even one of the fake versions of yourself. You’re just someone with no energy and no passion. That’s not my Junko. Get back up and be Junko again, please!”

“Sorry, Mukuro, that’s not happening. I told you, run along and find someone else to cling to. I am no longer clingable.”

“I know you’ve got more in you, sister. Come on! You’re the Ultimate Despair. You’re the girl who promised to bring the whole world to its knees. The one who always has a plan and the willingness to see it through. You’ve always inspired me, Junko.”

“…”

“I could never abandon you. Maybe you’ve hit a low point. Maybe you’re having a hard time. But I’m going to make sure you can create the despair you want, Junko. Because you’re my sister, and I love you. So, come on out, have some dinner, and let’s talk about how we’re going to do it.”

Silence, for a long minute. Mukuro’s call to arms hung in the air. Her emotion was palpable.

“You idiot,” Junko muttered. “Guess you just can’t take a hint.”

Mukuro stared at the door as if trying to see through it. After some waiting, the door opened. Junko looked as ready as ever for a future full of despair.

“You’re wrong, Mukuro,” Junko said. “About me being the Ultimate Despair. We are both the Ultimate Despair…”

“Aw, Junko!” Mukuro said, genuinely touched.

“…much to my misfortune. I’m working on getting you replaced. In the meantime, you’ll fit the part. Just stop looking so damn hopeful.”

Junko began her walk away, and Mukuro sighed. “Good to have you back, sister.”

Junko threw finger horns and without turning around said, “Real fuckin’ good to be back!”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Mukuro remained worried for Junko’s sanity. Her sister had not successfully executed a despair scheme in weeks, nor had she witnessed any incidental cases of despair. Though Junko appeared to be her normal self, Mukuro feared that her sister was losing control of herself. For that reason, when Junko presented her newest plan, Mukuro was hesitant to support her.

“I’m just gonna fuckin’ kill someone!” Junko exclaimed, vulgar persona engaged.

“Murder?” Mukuro asked. “No strings attached? No special despair twists? Just a normal homicide?”

“Yup, right on the money. It’s gonna be so fuckin’ basic they’ll never see it coming! Hell yeah!”

“I don’t think them seeing it coming has ever been the problem.”

Junko didn’t seem to hear Mukuro’s comment as she reached into her bag and pulled out what would soon be her murder weapon: a silenced .22 caliber pistol. In a flash, she donned glasses and entered explanation mode.

“Now, pay attention. This is a gun. First, I will place a clip filled with bullets into the gun. Then, I will point the gun at one of Hope’s Peak Academy’s students. After that, I will pull the trigger, causing the gun to discharge and a round to fire from the barrel into the head of said student, killing them and causing despair to those around them. It’s foolproof.”

Mukuro was unaffected. “Junko, I’m going to be honest. This is probably the least technically impressive plan you’ve ever come up with.”

Junko spoke in a quiet, depressed, tilted tone. “The convoluted ideas aren’t working anymore. I don’t know why. They used to go so well, but now it’s like I’m cursed; nothing is going the way I want it to. I can’t even get an ounce of true despair.” She perked up and adopted a speaking tone and facial expression that the weak-willed might describe as “kawaii”.

“So,” she continued, “I’m just gonna get back to the basics! Really simple despair, easy-peasy! Getting away with murder. Nothing causes people more despair than an unsolved homicide with no apparent motive! It’ll cause the whole school to feel super-duper despair, don’t you think?”

“I suppose,” Mukuro said reluctantly. “Will you need my assistance for this operation, or can you manage it on your own?”

Junko made use of a pompous persona, the kind of pretentious personality that uses the royal “we.” It was one of her favorites, and one of Mukuro’s least favorites. “Foolish peasant! We never truly need your help; We simply find it amusing to watch as you struggle to grasp simple concepts such as ‘despair’ and ‘basic human interaction.’ And in truth, you may sometimes provide a trivial convenience as well. No, we will not need your help. However, if you wish to give it nonetheless…”

Junko pulled out a wig that looked exactly like her own strawberry blonde hair. In normal voice, she explained, “The ‘getting away with it’ will be a lot easier if I have an alibi. So, maybe you can put on some makeup and a Junko disguise and go do something I might plausibly do.” She then spoke like she was explaining something to a child. “That means shopping, Mukuro. At the mall. I don’t want to hear stories about how I was at a shooting range for some reason.”

Mukuro took the wig and put it on. “Alright, Junko, I’ll be your alibi.” She allowed herself a relieved smile. “Sounds like you’ve actually thought this through. I was worried, but I guess I shouldn’t have been. You know what you’re doing.”

Junko pouted. “Mukuro, if you just admit that I’m always right, how am I supposed to tell you you’re wrong? Jeez, way to ruin my fun.”

Mukuro attempted to imitate Junko’s fashionista persona. She grinned widely and made a V-sign with her fingers. “Like, sorry about that, fam!”

Junko pinched the bridge of her nose and suppressed the urge to commit homicide earlier than expected. “Try to talk as little as possible, and this should go fine,” she growled.

After some more preparation, the two left going in different directions. Junko carried the pistol hidden in her handbag, intending to find a Hope’s Peak Student in a vulnerable position. Mukuro, dressed as Junko, carried several throwing knives hidden under Junko’s clothes. Old habits die hard, as they say. She also carried a debit card for shopping purposes. The Despair Sisters began two separate, wildly different missions.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The park. In any city, the park is likely to be a beautiful anomaly, a stunning change of pace from the typical gray and black of the concrete roads and pavement that cities are known for. A park is a place where a resident can go to relax or play. In a park, someone can stop to think about the world, about themselves, or just stop to feel in touch with nature.

Junko was in the park for none of these reasons. Junko, a nonsensical person who defied all reason, was searching the peaceful park for an opportunity to create chaos and disorder. As so often was the case, she was on the hunt for despair. This time, she knew she had the potential to create it. This time, she had a gun.

She skulked inconspicuously through the park, searching for a potential victim. She just needed to find a student of Hope’s Peak Academy. The death of such a student would be sure to ignite the fires of despair. Eventually, she located just such a student. Quickly and subtly, she took up a hiding spot behind a tree and peeked around to see from the side a young man sitting on a bench in front of a pond.

“Makoto Naegi,” she whispered. “Perfect. It’s so perfect!”

Makoto sat staring forward, apparently lost in thought. His eyes followed a team of ducks as they swam around. He hadn’t heard Junko approach or noticed Junko taking cover behind a tree several yards to his left. He was completely oblivious and a perfect target. Aside from the two students, there was nobody around; it was an opportune lull in activity for Junko’s assassination of despair.

She took out the silenced pistol from her handbag and took aim. She paused to get a look at what she could see of Makoto’s face: what would be his final expression before his unexpected demise. He seemed at peace, content with the world. Junko couldn’t wait to shatter his worldview with a single pull of a trigger.

She took aim with both hands and held her breath. Her index finger moved to the trigger.

At about this time, a pigeon became interested in a tree branch. The pigeon wasn’t quite sure what was on that branch, but it figured that it might be worth taking a look. Perhaps some sort of food awaited it when it got there. Motivated by curiosity, the bird took flight.

When Junko fired the gun, the pigeon had positioned itself in the air directly in the line of fire. The poor creature died instantly and fell to the ground with a soft thud.

Junko blinked. “Huh?” was all she could say. Makoto still sat up on the bench, oblivious to what had just happened thanks to the gun’s extremely effective silencer. The bird rested on the ground, an unexpected and unknowing savior, a flappy flame extinguished before its time.

Furious, Junko shot at Makoto a second time. Her bullet hit yet another pigeon that had inexplicably flown in front of her.

“Oh, that’s bullshit!” she shouted. Realizing she had been too noisy, she hid behind the tree again.

“What was that?” Makoto looked to his left, trying to identify the source of the sound. After looking around for a minute, Makoto shrugged and returned to looking at the lake. “Huh, weird,” he said, like an NPC with unrealistically low levels of suspicion.

Junko felt offended. Insulted by both Makoto for his idiocy and reality for attempting to deny her the despair she so desperately sought. She took a deep breath and tried to collect herself. She still had four bullets. If she fired them all in quick succession, she was sure to hit. The murder could still go through, despite the hitches. She peered out from behind the tree and aimed again. It was time to finish this. She readied herself one more time.

Four seconds later, four more shots had been fired, and four more pigeon corpses lay on the ground next to each other. Makoto Naegi, the Ultimate Oblivious Idiot, continued watching ducks.

With trembling hands, Junko put her firearm back into her handbag and zipped the bag shut. Listless, she walked up to the six new pigeon corpses and dropped to her knees. When she spoke, her voice was one of neither anger nor sorrow. It wasn’t a voice of confusion, either, nor was it a monotone. It was simply an empty voice devoid of emotion.

“Why? Why did this happen?”

Makoto heard her, and this time spotted her immediately when he looked over. “Junko?” he said in surprise. “What are you— Ah!” he shouted, spotting the dead birds in front of Junko.

Junko seemed not to hear him. “Six. It’s not possible. The odds are vanishingly low. There’s no way that all six of these birds should have done this. All dead in the same way, doing the same thing. It just can’t happen.”

Makoto recovered from the bird gore and became concerned for Junko. “You really care about birds, huh?” He shook his head. “I’m really sorry. I wish I could tell you what happened, but I didn’t even notice them until now.” He gently touched Junko’s shoulder. “Here, maybe you should come sit with me. I don’t think there’s much we can do for the pigeons.”

Junko muttered, “That sounds terrible.”

Makoto blinked. “Uh…” He was unsure how to respond to Junko’s bluntness.

“So,” she continued, “I guess it’s worth a try.” She stood up and walked over to the bench where Makoto had been sitting. Makoto didn’t understand Junko’s reasoning, but was glad she had decided to turn her attention away from a sight that was upsetting her. He had no way of knowing that Junko’s intention was to put herself in a situation where she’d have a chance to feel despair; spending time with one of her least favorite people seemed like a potential avenue for satisfying her despair desire.

Makoto took an uneasy seat next to Junko and tried to think of a way to lighten the mood.

“So,” he began, “do you come to the park often?

Junko shrugged. She didn’t have the energy to maintain an emotional disguise, and therefore found herself being unusually honest. “Not really. I don’t like this place. It’s too peaceful.”

Makoto thought for a moment. “I guess I can understand that,” he said. “You prefer places where there’s more stuff going on? Like a high-energy environment?”

“You could say that,” Junko replied simply.

“So why did you decide to come here today?” Makoto asked. “If you don’t usually visit, what’s different today?”

Junko chose her words carefully. “I was…hoping to find something. I’ve been looking all over for it, but I haven’t been able to find it anywhere.” To her own surprise, she found that she was venting. “You know how sometimes you really want something, but it’s just out of reach? And you move forward, and you’re sure you can get it, but it gets away from you again and again? I think that’s my entire life now. It just keeps getting away from me.”

Makoto contemplated. “What are you looking for? A lost pet?”

“No,” Junko said wistfully, “it’s something more abstract than that. If I told you, I don’t think you’d understand.” She laughed bitterly, not sure herself whether it was a forced or genuine response to her situational irony. “Honestly, I don’t think anyone understands. Not even those closest to me really get it. I’m alone, Makoto. I’ve got a special kind of loneliness.”

“You aren’t alone, Junko!” Makoto interjected, suddenly speaking with the kind of passion the protagonist of a children’s cartoon feels when entering a rant about the power of friendship. “Everyone in our class is your friend. We’re all happy to spend time with you. We’re all in this together, so if you’ve got something bothering you, you can talk to us. We all care about you, Junko, so you don’t need to feel alone. Don’t give into despair!”

Junko sighed at the sound of her favorite word. “Despair,” she said to herself. “Despair, despair. If only I could. If only I could.” She stared forward at the ducks in the pond, looking lost in her own thoughts.

Makoto figured he could try one more thing to lift Junko out of her melancholy. He blushed a bit.

“Hey, did you know that I made a wish for you once?”

Junko glanced sideways. “A wish?”

“Yeah.” Makoto shifted a little in his seat. “I was walking home a few weeks ago, and the street was empty except for me and you walking in opposite directions. I looked up and saw a shooting star, and like a kid I thought that I needed to make a wish. So, thinking fast, I just made my wish for you.” He gave an embarrassed and good-natured smile. “I know it’s a bit silly, but it reminded me that you’re my friend and that I want you to be happy. I thought you might like hearing that.”

Junko rested her chin on her hand. “What did you wish for?” she asked with feigned interest. She figured Makoto had probably wished her success as a fashionista or something similarly vacuous and meaningless.

Makoto thought for a moment. “I think it was something like, ‘I wish for Junko to live a life full of hope,’ or ‘I wish for Junko to never have to feel despair.’”

Junko felt blood rushing to her face. She stared at Makoto the way a cow looks at an oncoming train.

Makoto, not noticing Junko’s gaze of death, continued, “Yeah, I think that’s right.” He shrugged. “But I guess wishes don’t really come true, huh? At least not wishes like that. We all feel despair sometimes, right?”

Junko felt a whirlwind of emotions all at once. They came one after another, a hundred emotions in a single second. Rage. Fear. Anger. Curiosity. Envy. Disappointment. Emotion after emotion flew in and out of her psyche at a dizzying pace. Among them all, she felt one in particular that she was shocked to feel. It was in her for only an instant, for just long enough that she could recognize it like an old friend. She’d felt the feeling she knew as Despair once again.

That feeling brought a dead Junko back to life. Without even trying, she immediately switched her personality to that of the Ultimate Fashionista and her brain once again started processing information at the speed of light. She laughed the grating laugh associated with all high school divas.

“Wow, Makoto. You’re, like, way too much.” Junko stood from the bench and looked down at him. “If you think you’re gonna, like, inspire me with something lame like that, you’ll have to do better. Don’t worry; I’ll be waiting for the day you learn how to actually talk to a girl!” With that dis, Junko turned on a heel and walked away as though nothing had ever affected her.

Though Junko had been mean to him, Makoto couldn’t help but feel relieved. It seemed to him that Junko had returned to her normal self, and he was glad that something he said might have helped her. Still, he wondered if he could help any more.

“Hey, Junko!” he called after her. “Do you need help finding that thing you’re looking for?”

Junko kept walking away, but she turned her head and flashed a smile and a V-sign. “Don’t worry,” she called back, “I’ve already found it!”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

As the afternoon turned to dusk, Junko made it back to her and Mukuro’s shared housing. She found Mukuro sitting on the couch watching a war documentary on TV, wig and shopping bag laid next to her.

“I’m home,” Junko said with a yawn. She fell into a chair and relaxed. “It’s definitely been a day.”

Mukuro muted the TV and looked at her sister with interest. “Did the plan work?” she asked, both excited and afraid to hear the answer.

Junko spoke in a voice so nonchalant that it was absurd in its casualness. “Yeah, kind of. In a roundabout sort of way.”

Mukuro furrowed her brow. “What does that mean?” she prodded. “Did you kill someone? Maim? Traumatize? Inconvenience?”

Junko sidestepped Mukuro’s questions with one of her own. “Mukuro, are you superstitious at all?” Junko already knew how her sister would respond and mouthed along to her reply.

“No, not really. I guess I’m too much of a realist.” Mukuro tilted her head. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, I am,” Junko proclaimed. “At least, I think I am. And after my assassination attempt failed, I was able to feel a bit—just a taste—of superstitious despair. Despair has always been the goal, Mukuro; murder was just a means to that end. So, I’d say I succeeded today.”

Mukuro thought about Junko’s explanation. It was cryptic and raised more questions than answers, as was often the case when dealing with Junko. However, Mukuro could tell that behind Junko’s words something had shifted. After a long period of abnormality, Junko seemed to have returned to her normal self. That was enough for Mukuro; she didn’t have to fully understand her sister’s life to fulfill her sisterly duty. Junko seemed satisfied, and that was enough for Mukuro to be satisfied.

“Well,” Mukuro said, “I’m glad to hear your day went well. And, as a bonus, we don’t have to worry about answering questions for the police, so that’s nice.”

“That reminds me,” Junko said, “How was ‘my’ shopping trip today?” She smirked and glanced at the shopping bag. “Did I talk to anybody, and more importantly, did I buy anything despairfully but subtly cool?”

Mukuro froze. She glanced back and forth between the bag and her sister, who looked on expectantly. “I didn’t have any long conversations,” she said. “And, what I bought? Not much, just, uh…” she hesitated for far too long, “nail polish? And also, clothes? Yes. I bought those things.” She wore a sorry excuse for a poker face, lips twitching and eyes darting in various directions.

“Oh, man. What did you do this time?” Junko walked over, eager to see how her sister had messed up the plan. Had she gone out and purchased a set of knives? A gun? An artillery shell? All while dressed as the Ultimate Fashionista? She couldn’t wait to yell at her sister and get another taste of despair. Junko snatched the bag away from Mukuro, and looked inside.

“Oh. It’s…”

“Cupcakes!” Mukuro finished. She smiled. “Icing, too. I wanted to surprise you, but I guess it’s fine for you to see them now. I figured we could celebrate the success of your plan with fun snacks. And look, I got black and white icing, so we can decorate them to look like Monokuma. Does that sound fun?” Mukuro suddenly backtracked. “Of course, if you’re not interested, you can also just throw them in my face, if you’d enjoy that more. I understand this is a little more dull than what you usually enjoy. So, what do you want to do?”

Junko stared at Mukuro’s gift. It was a pure act of loving sisterhood. Mukuro had done nothing wrong, and was ready to do whatever necessary to raise her sister’s spirits. Junko felt a warm feeling in her heart. It was such a simple, genuine show of care, Junko thought. It was a small thing, and very special.

But it wasn’t despair.

Junko sighed and handed the bag back to Mukuro. “Yeah, alright, sis. We can decorate cupcakes later.”

Mukuro looked concerned. “You don’t sound very excited. Are you sure you want to?”

Junko shrugged. “I wouldn’t say I’m ecstatic, but I’m not going to fight it. I guess we can make a game out of it; I’ll put an emetic in one of the cupcakes and we can play Cupcake Roulette!”

“That sounds fun!” Mukuro said, putting on a brave face and mentally preparing herself. She rarely won these sorts of "games" and suspected that Junko often cheated, but she never said as much. Mukuro was willing to take a bit of sickness for Junko’s enjoyment.

Junko sat down on the couch. “Normally, I’d probably try to do something dramatic here to make you or me feel despair, but I think I’m going to start trying something new”.

“What does that mean?” Mukuro asked warily. Junko leaned back as she explained.

“Lately, I think I’ve just been too eager and hands-on. I think my own desperation has been my downfall time and time again. So, I’m going to take a step back. Start being more patient and more observant. Maybe despair can’t always be manufactured. Maybe sometimes it has to occur naturally.”

Mukuro was immediately concerned. “Does that mean you’re just going to stop trying to cause despair? I thought that was what you live for, Junko. Don’t tell me you’re just giving up.”

“I’m not,” Junko said dismissively. “Life’s greatest despairs require plenty of planning and effort. Time and dedication. Only people like me can bring despair to its fullest potential by doing what those obsessed with hope could never dream of.” She smiled. “But I think day-to-day despair, the normal kind of despair, happens on its own. Trivial despairs are trivially easy to obtain: you just have to let them happen.” She shrugged. “At least, that’s my working hypothesis. Remember the old saying, Mukuro.

“What old saying?”

Junko spread her arms and proclaimed it like it was a quote that would be remembered for all time.

“Despair will come to those who wait!"