Though Junko left Mikan with a few kisses, Junko always came back and that was what mattered. Besides, Mikan had been treating herself from a young age, so she could handle this.
Applying ice immediately after the kisses reduced blood flow in the area, causing the kiss to be less visible and not swell as much. However, that was not what Mikan wanted, so she waited and then applied heat, compression and elevation. The cellar contained only a few chairs, many broken, so sitting on the cold floor, Mikan hitched up her arm onto the nearest and shut her eyes.
More than just her arm had been kissed, but she bandaged them all up and that would do.
After a while, the door creaked and she lifted her head. A silhouette stood in the entrance. Mikan recognised their frame immediately. Her face split into a smile.
“My b-beloved!” Mikan gushed.
She heaved her arm off the chair, about to crawl over, but a ball of light burst from the doorway. It came from a torch and the person wielding it was not Junko.
Realising this, the ends of Mikan’s lips slumped. In a bored tone, she said, “Oh... It’s you.”
By that, she meant that the person on the other side of the room was Junko’s twin sister, Mukuro. Mikan could now make out Mukuro’s features due to the limited light from the torch. Firstly, Mukuro’s hair was darker, and shorter, and she didn’t have the same lipsticked smile as Junko. Mukuro strode over without the same click-click-click that Junko’s high heels made and stopped near Mikan.
Then there were her eyes - so cold! Junko’s reminded Mikan of a bright summer afternoon, while Mukuro stared out from a gloomy winter morning.
“I brought lunch,” said Mukuro. She lifted the hand not holding the torch, revealing a bento box tied with a red scarf.
Mikan didn’t say anything as Mukuro set the box onto the chair. Mukuro straightened and folded her arms over her chest, but Mikan didn’t so much as raise a finger toward it.
“Are you not hungry or something?” asked Mukuro. Receiving no answer, she sighed and knelt down. She unravelled the scarf and opened the box.
Each compartment housed a different food. One boasted evenly sliced salmon that sheened, garnished with sesame seeds, and another had a vegetable salad slathered in mayonnaise... at this point, Mikan’s stomach cramped and she had to look away.
“It sounds like you’re hungry,” said Mukuro. Again, she didn’t get an answer. “Do you want me to feed you?”
That didn’t sound anything like ‘are you hungry, you fat, goddamn pig’? Mikan hesitated.
“I’m not going to offer twice,” Mukuro told her. Still nothing. “I’ll just leave it here and go, then.”
She started to stand up.
“No!” shrieked Mikan, and she clutched Mukuro’s arm. Mukuro blinked. Mikan trembled. “You can feed me... You can even throw your hard work into my face and rub it all over my body if you desire!”
“I’d rather not,” said Mukuro, wrinkling her nose, but she lowered herself back down. Her eyes flitted to the bandages on Mikan’s arms and legs, and she regarded them for a few moments in silence. “Do you need anything else for those bruises?”
Mikan glared. “They’re kisses.”
Mukuro held her tongue. She picked up a pair of chopsticks and proceeded to feed Mikan.
Neither spoke at first. If Junko was here, Mikan would have been slathering all over the chopsticks, flicking her tongue at Junko’s fingers like they were something else and Junko would have cooed or punched her, but Mukuro didn’t hit. Mukuro didn’t stomp. Most likely, Mukuro would give up and leave the room if Mikan did that, and no attention was worse than good or bad attention.
“Did my beloved send you here?” asked Mikan.
“No.”
Mikan wiggled. “B-Because she’s probably too busy, otherwise...”
“She’s busy and didn’t give me any orders to feed you, but I figured you would die or something if you didn’t eat until she came back next week,” explained Mukuro.
Silence.
“I see,” stated Mikan.
Mukuro fed her some more. A smirk curled Mikan’s lips.
“You want to keep on her good side, don’t you?” asked Mikan, fluttering her lashes.
“Who doesn’t?” replied Mukuro. She plucked a dumpling from the box. “I would miss you, you know. You were such a sweet person. You used to patch me up whenever Junko-chan got mad at me and listen to whatever I had to say no matter how boring. You actually took care of me. But you’re right. If I let you die, Junko-chan would get mad at me for wasting resources and she’d have to go find someone else. She probably wouldn’t talk to me for the rest of the day.”
That wiped Mikan’s grin off.
“My beloved wouldn’t replace me.” Mikan shifted and raised her voice. “My beloved wouldn’t be able to!”
Mukuro’s face didn’t quiver, like she wasn’t joking.
“You were an easy place to start off. You’re easily pliable, like a roll of dough, and as brainless as one too. To level up, you have to grind on the weakest of minds, and then you move onto the ones that give the most rewards.”
Those words came from Mukuro’s mouth, but when she said them, they sounded like they were coming from Junko’s ruby lips. Like... Like Junko had been the one to say them and Mukuro just repeated them.
“You liar! She loves me!” Mikan snarled, and she threw herself at Mukuro.
She almost managed to slam herself onto her but Mukuro dodged out of the way, and then the chain attached to Mikan’s collar pulled taut so Mikan ended up falling on her face.
“My beloved loves me! My beloved loves me!” sobbed Mikan, unable to say anything else.
Mukuro stared down at the pathetic sight. Junko would have laughed or kicked Mikan, like the dog Mikan was, but Mukuro didn’t do anything and that was worse.
“You can keep the torch,” said Mukuro, and she walked away.
Mikan’s breathing hitched and she reached toward her. “Don’t go! Don’t leave me alone!”
The door shut. Crying harder, Mikan curled up, and when she finally became numb, she noticed the key to her collar that Mukuro must have left behind.
Just like all those other times when Junko had been away.
