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And there it was. The despair she oh so craved, in a ball in front of her. This current embodiment of despair was…. Whimpering? It’s pathetic pleas for help had died down quite some time ago. Well of course, hope can only prevail for so long before despair come bounding in to take over. The “Super High School Level Hope” everyone had hyped about was off in the corner, chained to the ground. Most of “Hope“‘s limbs were shattered, bones peaking from here and there. He was still alive, though barely breathing.
Is this what I wanted? She second guessed herself a lot. Those second guess went by, ignored, every time a cry or murmur of despair could be heard. She let out a laugh, amusement something she found more often recently. Oh, but why might this unaveragely beautiful gyaru feel such amusement at the sight of her “friend“‘s mangled bodies before her? The answer to this is obvious! Even though she assumed the title of “Super High School Level Gyaru”, her true title which she coined herself was “Super High School Level Despair”. It was a title no one expected from such a perfectly perfect super model, such as Enoshima Junko — not like she gave a hell what anyone else might have had to say on the matter.
The absolutely adorable girl walked through the room, nudging at limbs, deliberately splashing in puddles of blood, and cackling at the distorted bodies before her. This room alone was enough to keep her relatively amused for a few minutes. Right when she thought she was about to despair into her deepest desires, a voice rang out.
"Sis…!" The voice came from the direction of the door she swore she had locked. The Gyaru’s face contorted into one of anger and she was about to yell at the top of her lungs. She spun around about face before letting out a light gasp, taking a step back. Just for that little touch of detail, the girl’s pointed high heel landed right on the back of Mr.Perfect’s hand. It wasn’t like Junko didn’t get a kick at the hall monitor’s weak attempt to get her to move; in fact, she was sure she was wetting her lacy undergarments at the thought.
For a moment, the flawless heroin forgot the situation as her arousal took hold, until her sister’s gaze caught her own. She let out a sigh, almost as of her high had been barely scratched at then left to dry. “Mukuro, Mukuro, Mukuro~! Mukuromukuromukuromukuromukuro!” She repeated her sister’s name many times, like the name tickled her tongue. It sounded like a five year old that had just made a friend.
The newcomer of the scene, Mukuro, was still trying to drink in the absolute despair that paired its self in the room’s rose coloured blood. “W-what have you done…!?” Her voice shook as her eyes watched the half conscious looks of her peers.
"Muuukuro…~" The blonde said, taking a few steps toward her sister. She had blood painting her hands, bits of her hair, most of her clothes, and her boots. "Isn’t this the best~? Watching the despair on our friend’s faces…. Watching as they cry and plea for some sanction…. Mmm~!" Junko’s eyes were glazed over and it looked like that arousal was being rekindled.
Mukuro watched her sister, worry stirring in the pit of her stomach. She though she could understand her sister, but her face of sheer terror told the darling model that Mukuro’s assumption was wrong. Mukuro, “Super High School Level Mercenary”, who also had claimed “Super High School Level Despair”, was Junko’s own flesh and blood; the two “Despair Sisters” were twins, destined to share a fate of shared existence. Like that matter at all to the “Queen of Despair”, Enoshima Junko. She, obviously, would do anything for enriching, whelming feeling of the ultimate despair. If she got annoyed with her goody goody twin, she could always dispose of her just like she had her beloved classmates.
Mukuro was used to seeing casualties; this should be nothing to the mercenary. But Junko could see it on her slightly paying face, the solder’s dark freckles began to stick out more on her otherwise fare skin. Junko could see the sheer horror planting its self on her twin’s features — despair was overcoming Ikusaba Mukuro! Moreso than any battlefield could have granted her, this despair was fresh and straight to the point.
Before Mukuro could muster any more words, she felt hands dance across her torso. A warm bust pressed against her back, arms held her tight. “My Mukuro, isn’t this what we wanted? The most despair inducing despair… Something that might even send us into eternal misery…?” Her voice was smooth, barely letting a light rasp across. Her hands ran along the muscular figure of her sister, not hesitating as her thin fingers touched places she was sure Mukuro let no one else touch. “This despair…. Is perfect.” Junko let out in a whisper.