seen from South Africa
seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from Yemen
seen from Netherlands
seen from United Kingdom
seen from South Africa
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Kazakhstan
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from Italy
seen from Singapore
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Malaysia
seen from China
seen from Italy
low quality bench trio
bench trio consists of three members. One will tall at you. One will bad posture at you. One will stab you. And possibly also set off dynamite.
An Explosive Concoction of Hope and Despair
Happy Holidays, and Happy New Year to everyone! This is a commission I recently completed for a wonderful anonymous person who had a lot of great ideas, and the final product ended up around 5k words. The clever title is also courtesy of them! Summary: Makoto gets chased around by Junko, who keeps setting off explosives in his proximity. He tries his best not to die on the night of the Tanabata Festival and at the prime of his youth. This takes place in a non-Despair AU where Junko and Mukuro’s status as Ultimate Despair Sisters are known, and they’re accepted and loved by their classmates (they don’t commit any major crimes or such). Here’s a little preview before the rest under the cut! -----
If you were to wonder what the Ultimate Luckster Makoto Naegi was up to at this very moment...well, the answer is that he’s in a world of trouble.
“Gah! Why are you doing this to me?!”
Makoto just barely dodged an explosion as he dived toward the takoyaki stand to his left, rolled and got to his knees and started running again.
If this sounds like a practiced movement, that’s because it is. Makoto’s been dodging explosions and running away from the Ultimate Despair sisters for the past half-hour: well, mostly Junko, because if Mukuro were chasing him, he would’ve already been caught, what with her military training and reflexes.
Makoto gritted his teeth and pushed through the crowd of people. It was the day of the Tanabata festival. He should be out having fun with his classmates and friends, but instead, he was stuck entertaining Junko’s antics by running for his life tonight. He’d ditched the yukata for convenience and was wearing only a plain shirt and shorts. He was starting to get pretty tired. After all, he was only a normal kid with normal athletic ability and a tiny bit of luck. He was starting to think getting into Hope’s Peak Academy was bad luck after having to fight for his life on what seemed like a monthly basis.
He stopped to catch his breath and leaned against a tent.
“Hey, are you the guy coming in for the next shift?”
Makoto starts to respond to the person coming out of the tent but gets interrupted before he can answer. Something like a heavy, hollow circle plops down on top of his sweaty face, and the inside doesn’t smell too great.
“That’s good because I’m tired of dealing with the kids. Go inside and put on the rest of the costume. I’m free for the rest of the night,” the guy says, and Makoto hears cheerful whistling as he struggles to stand to his feet. He stumbles inside the tent. He can barely see out of whatever was put on him, but he can see a mirror and it looks like he’s wearing...a teddy bear head? He sighs. Just his luck.
Wait...just his luck?
He spots the rest of the costume and puts it on. Hopefully, Junko wouldn’t recognize him in this outfit. It sure was hot in the costume, though, so it had better do its job.
Makoto toddles out of the tent. Might as well do his job while he’s dressed for it. It would help disguise him.
Or so he thought, but he didn’t predict getting run over by children. Literally. He felt like he was being slowly stomped into dust on the ground by thousands of little kid feet, and he could hear whooping above him. He’d pretty much given up until he saw a hand outstretched in front of him. He reached out, and the hand pulled him out of the mess.
“Thank you so much,” he says. Makoto thought he was going to cry from relief. But that’s when the hand that had helped him before stretched out and tugged the ear of his mascot head, and the head dropped to the floor.
It was Junko who had pulled him up, and she was smiling ecstatically, a fat, luxurious cigar wedged in between those pink lips of hers, which was drooping from its weight. It looked branded and expensive- as expected of a fashionista like Junko, Makoto supposed. Taken aback, Makoto watched open-mouthed as she took a piece of dynamite from her hand purse and stuffed it in his mouth like feeding a carrot to a horse before leaning in sultrily with the cigar still perched perfectly in her lips and touching the end of her glowing cigar to the now lit fuse to his dynamite.
Junko started walking backward, chuckling and watching as Makoto, with a red face, yanked the stick of dynamite out of his mouth frantically and chucked it as far as he could throw from civilization and ran in the opposite direction. He winced upon hearing the boom and took a look at Junko, who seemed unaffected.
Of course. She was wearing earplugs. And a rather pretty yukata, for that matter. For once, her hair wasn’t in two ponytails, but one, and she had a single Monokuma pin adorning her hair.
Makoto sighed and took off the mascot outfit, which was sticky from his sweat and uncomfortable either way. It was no help disguising himself from her. She seemed to have a sixth sense just for finding him.
He turned to walk the opposite direction, away from Junko but took no more than a few steps before coming face-to-face with her.
“Junko?! Ah!”
He started backing away. Based on all the experiences he’d been having with her involved tonight, this wasn’t going to end well for him if he stuck around.
“You scream at me like I’m a monster or something,” she says, feigning hurt. “You wound me.”
Makoto looks around for an escape, but the crowd is heavy tonight, as it is each year.
“Why do you keep trying to set explosives off near me? You’re going to kill me,” he says exasperatedly.
Junko twists a stray piece of blonde hair around her finger, looking bored.
“Uh, yeah, that’s kind of the point. What did you think I was trying to do?”
He shakes his head. There was no point in trying to reason with her. It was better for Makoto to walk away. But before he knew it, he was stopped in his tracks. Something heavy was attached to his back.
He turned to see Junko a few feet away, standing where she had been earlier. And she was slowly raising a string to her lit cigar. Makoto’s eyes followed the string. It was attached to whatever was on his back.
He didn’t have eyes on his back and didn’t know exactly what was on his back, but he had enough sense to know that whatever it was, a string attached to it being lit did not bode well for him in the least.
He sprinted over to stop her, but it was too late. She winked, and within moments, he’s sent hurtling into the night sky. Makoto grabs at the ropes attaching whatever it was to his back, and they tear surprisingly easily. Huh. Okay, note to self to try that first instead of trying to stop a despair-crazed high school girl. And for some reason, fireworks were already going on, dangerously close to him. Weren’t they supposed to be at the end of the festival? And farther away from crowds of people, so no one is hurt?
But the problem now was that he was hurtling out of the night sky. Luckily, he hadn’t flown too high before dismantling the ropes. He closed his eyes, bracing for the impact of the hard ground- but he didn’t feel anything.
Makoto opens his eyes only to see Junko’s face inches from his.
“Whoa!”
She’d caught him from the sky, and they were standing in a clearing at the festival’s entrance.
“You know, you’re heavier than you look,” she laughs and throws him aside, his tailbone hitting the hard ground. He groans and slowly gets up on his feet, rubbing his backside. Why did he feel like he was already an old man when he was just a high schooler?
“Thanks?”
“It wasn’t a compliment,” she smirks, and lights a firework with her cigar, tossing it into the sky.
So it was her, after all, who’d been setting off fireworks in the middle of the festival. He should’ve known. It was unsafe and untimely, after all. But, speaking of unsafe and untimely, a huge pile of explosives had just been carted over behind her, likely courtesy of Mukuro.
Junko didn’t even have to look behind her before she took a step back and plopped down onto the messy stacks of dynamite, a lazy smile on her lips as she puffed away at her cigar.
“W-What are you doing?!” Makoto stammered. “You’re going to blow yourself up like that! And it’ll probably hurt people at the festival too since there are so many explosives!”
Junko rolled her eyes.
“Again, that’s kind of the point of me sitting here. Way to state the obvious.”
Confused, Makoto rephrased his words.
“Weren’t you trying to blow me up?”
Junko laughed and shrugged.
“Yeah, but this is fun too. Just part of the excitement, you know?”
Something strange was swirling in those pale blue eyes of her, and Makoto had seen that look enough to know what it meant. She was enjoying the thrill of despair.
“Suit yourself, I guess,” Makoto said, backing away for what seemed like the umpteenth time of the night. “But keep me out of it.”
Junko pouted and pursed her lips.
“You’re no fun! Why don’t you come over here and sit next to me, Makoto?”
He shook his head, eyes wide, and started to turn and walk away. But before he knew it, he felt a hand on his shoulder forcefully stop him and turn him so he faced its owner once again.
“Come on, don’t be lame,” Junko sighed. “Here, take this, and this,” she said, taking her cigar out of her mouth and popping it into Makoto’s mouth, who coughed slightly from the smoke but tried not to drop it on the ground, and then Junko pushed an armful of dynamite and other varied explosives into Makoto’s arms, who automatically caught them. It was his nature to be a pushover helpful.
“Wait, what are you doing? Why are you giving me your cigar?”
Makoto tried not to drop anything, but then he realized he had a smoking cigar in his mouth, and if it happened to light any fuses, he’d be dead.
“Blow some stuff up, dude! Don’t be a drag and rain on my parade,” Junko smirked. “All you gotta do is put the end of the cigar to the fuse!”
Makoto immediately dropped all of the explosives on the ground, and they clattered against each other as they fell and rolled around.
“Why would I want to do that?!”
“It’s fun!” Junko cackled and scooped a few more sticks of dynamite back into Makoto’s arms, pushing them against his chest in a pushy manner.
Makoto threw them away from himself and took the cigar out of his mouth.
“I’m not you! I don’t enjoy blowing things up or near-death experiences,” he said exasperatedly. “Stop giving me explosives, and take your cigar back.”
Junko eyed him for a good few seconds before taking the cigar from Makoto’s fingers and putting the cigar back in her mouth.
“Ooh! Indirect kiss,” she squealed.
Makoto winced and wiped his mouth.
“That was so unnecessary,” he replied dryly, unamused.
“Unnecessary, but true!” she sings in his ear, and Junko swings an arm over his shoulder.
“Yo, take a look over there. I got it for my last birthday,” Junko says proudly, and points to a large, shadowy figure in the distance, but still rather close to the festival.
He raises his head to look at what was over there. It was rather big and towering over the trees where it’d been placed. A...Junko statue? Makoto starts to sweat. It was giving him bad vibes.
Sure enough, the real Junko had separated from him and was standing a few feet away from him, holding a TNT plunger. He tries to grab it from her, but he’s still weak in the knees after getting tossed like a salad in the air from being an unwilling participant to his little fireworks adventure.
She pushes down on the TNT plunger triumphantly and cackles as the statue bursts into pieces. Makoto breathes in sharply and watches as the festival descends into chaos.
People were running around screaming as rubble on fire fell from the skies and rained upon the festival booths, setting things on fire and destroying merchandise. Before this, no one had batted an eye at their explosives and fireworks, since it just seemed like a couple flirting weirdly, the explosives seemed fake, and fireworks were normal any way, but now that safety was severely compromised, everyone was turning to point fingers at Makoto and Junko.
But Junko could care less. She was hoping to see a piece of flaming rubble land on Makoto, who was still standing out in the open carelessly. It was then that she saw a figure grab his arm and pull him away, and she punched the booth nearby in anger. She was so close.
“Come on, Makoto. It’s not safe here,” said Kyouko.
Makoto let him be dragged away, and then took a second look at Kyouko, who had let go of him after he was now walking without her prompting.
“You’re here at the festival?”
She nodded.
“Yes, and I’ve been watching you run around like a trapped mouse.”
Makoto stopped walking in the middle of the road.
“You’ve been watching? And you didn’t say anything?”
Kyouko sighed.
“Yes. Can we keep walking? I’m not going to be lucky enough to avoid getting struck down with flaming rubble like you.”
Makoto started walking again but at a faster pace to accommodate Kyouko’s stride.
“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “But could you help me escape her? I just wanted to have a good time at the festival tonight, but I’m stuck trying to run away from her all night instead.”
“Run away from who?” a voice said imperiously.
Makoto turned to see Junko sitting on a rocket barely a meter away.
“Junko!” He turned to ask Kyouko for help, but the detective had already disappeared into the night. He curled his hand into a fist in irritation. Sometimes she could be so...ugh!
“Come here, Makoto,” Junko beckoned.
Makoto was about to politely refuse before he felt something hard pressing at his back. He’d never felt one pressed to his back before, but he was guessing this was a gun, probably operated by Mukuro. A chill ran down his back.
“Okay, okay, I get it! I’m coming.”
With little other choice, he walked over and climbed onto the rocket with Junko, taking a seat.
“Good boy,” Junko says, grinning and patting him on the head, ruffling his brown hair.
“I’m not a dog,” he sighs.
“You are if I say you are,” Junko says. She holds up the fuse in one hand, and in her other hand, she momentarily holds her cigar and taps it, its glowing ashes falling onto the fuse, and within moments, the two are flying into the sky.
Makoto tries to hold on, but his hands are still sweaty, and with little grip to keep him ahold, he slides off of the rocket, falling, and watches as Junko continues on, soaring through the dark night sky, the stars twinkling. The rocket exploded to reveal a firework image of the girl who’d been riding it, who winked- seemingly at Makoto himself -and then blew a firework smoke ring into the sky. He couldn’t help but smile a little at her fireworks, so utterly Junko-like--but such an endearing moment was quickly interrupted by the leftover bits of the fireworks dropping into a ring of fire around him into the ground.
He scoots away from the fire as he sat in the dirt in the forest near the ruins of the festival. It wasn’t time to die yet. Or was it? He wondered when he saw what looked like a shooting star, heading straight for his face.
Something crashed into him, and Makoto fell over onto the ground, blinking as he lay on the ground.
The something was Junko, and she was sitting on top of him- straddling him. She was a sight to see, and not because she was beautiful, though this too was true, but because she was covered in soot and parts of her yukata were burning. She leaned down and took her cigar out of her mouth, tapping its ashes out centimeters away from Makoto’s head, smiling in the insane way she usually did when she was high off of despair.
“What a night, am I right?” she giggles.
Makoto gulped and looked away from her.
“No thanks to you,” he says, almost bitterly. But he’s too nice to really be sour about it.
Junko laughs dismissively.
“It’s a night you’ll remember forever, though. Immortalized in the history of Tanabata Festivals.”
“Is this why you did it? Chasing me around with explosives and blowing stuff up?” Makoto demands.
Junko shakes her head and takes a drag from her cigar before answering.
“No, of course not, silly! I wanted to see you suffer, and I wanted to feel despair,” she responded happily. “You little nitwit.” She flicked him on the forehead, and he blinked reflexively. “Daww, did that hurt? Here, I’ll kiss it better.”
She bends down and places a rather gentle kiss on Makoto’s forehead, and for a moment, just a moment, he thinks it wouldn’t be too bad to date Junko Enoshima.
But then she steps away from his body and aims a gigantic rocket launcher at him, courtesy of her other half, Mukuro, and he’s brought back to reality.
Makoto scrambles to his feet and starts running in the opposite direction, and watches as a tree less than a meter away from him gets torn through by a missile shot by Junko and meant for him. The missile soars upward and disappears into the sky. He shuddered to think what would’ve happened to him if the poor tree looked this miserable.
He stops and rests against a tree close to where the festival was, a tree that was in one piece. From here, all of the festival could be seen, and it appeared as though people were salvaging the remains of the festival and setting up to have fun again. With a smile, he walks into the festival. At least Junko hadn’t completely demolished it. It appeared hope would prevail yet again.
Makoto walks to a booth and purchases a stick of cotton candy. Finally, he could enjoy the festival a little bit and live like he really was just 18 years old- or maybe not.
“Makoto! Maybe you should check your pocket,” Junko calls out in a manner of seconds after Makoto’s started eating his cotton candy.
“What for?” he says, and looks at his back pocket, only to find a stick of dynamite lodged there snugly. “Gah!”
He grabs it, avoiding the spark, and throws it into the woods. Sorry, trees, he apologizes internally. Crisis averted, he thought to himself and wiped the sweat off his brow. He was getting tired of this whole defying death and running away from getting exploded deal.
It was then that Makoto happened to notice out of the corner of his eye a hint of blond hair, and the smell of a cigar wafted through the air and mingled with the scents of oil and sweets. Along with those details, he saw in her hands a gigantic, colorful, festive-looking mallet. He barely had the time to think, ‘Oh, no,’ before he found himself hammered with that very same mallet.
He woke up to the breezy night air and found himself perched on a ledge a little bit above the festival. It was an ideal place for viewing fireworks. Aside from there being Junko Enoshima nearby, that is.
“Makoto! You’re awake! Our main attraction is almost ready,” Junko cooed with delight.
Still woozy, Makoto looked around in a daze.
“Huh? Main attraction?”
Junko walks over to an enormous black cannon and laughs maniacally.
“Look, it’s a cannon! It fits a human- or two -inside! All I gotta do is light this baby, and you’ll go boom boom!”
She saunters over to him and leans in close, the tip of her fat cigar brushing against his nose sootily.
“And you’ll be the guest of honor tonight, Makoto! Ooh, I’m so excited! I simply can’t wait!”
With that, she brings her humongous mallet that’d knocked Makoto unconscious to the end of her cigar, lighting the mallet on fire-evidently, it was easily flammable-and with a single swing of her mallet, she hits Makoto into the air and he drops into the mouth of the cannon almost perfectly.
“Hey! Get me out of here!” he bangs his fists on the curved metal from inside the cannon, but it was useless.
“No way!” Junko snorts. “You’re live television and streaming online. Be nice to my viewers! And of course, we’re close to the festival too, so they’re gonna have front and center seats to you getting shot outta that cannon!”
“I’m going to really die this time,” Makoto groaned and put his face in his hands, sitting in the darkness. Hopefully, Junko would set out some fireworks, and his death wouldn’t seem too grim.
“Of course you will, sweetie! Now it’s time to light this baby,” Junko shouts into a giant megaphone enthusiastically. People from the festival look up at her to see what’s going on, curious. “Once I light it, there’s no going back! This fuse can’t be put out. The cannon will be shot tonight, and the lucky rider is going to be Makoto! What a fine opportunity you have to see this special view tonight, folks! Happy Tanabata!”
Junko grabs the long fuse of the cannon, extended for dramatic suspense, and puts her cigar to the fuse, lighting it. She climbs onto the cannon’s barrel cheerfully and plugs her ears, a smile stretched from cheek to cheek on her face. But of course, shooting Makoto into the sky just wouldn’t be complete without a good jab at him before.
She scoots up the cannon and puts her head inside.
“Hey, Makoto-whoah!”
Junko tumbles inside in a surprising show of uncharacteristic clumsiness, and with the shaking of the cannon from her falling inside, Makoto falls forward and dives face-first into her chest.
“Mmph!”
Somehow, Makoto manages to extract himself from her chest, but not without a lot of awkward shifting in their positions inside the cannon.
“You know, this would be the part where I punch you into space- except that the cannon’s going to do that for me,” Junko snickers.
“Gh! Sorry,” Makoto says, feeling his face grow hot.
“No harm done,” Junko says. “Except that you’re tarnishing a young girl’s purity,” she teases him.
Makoto sighs and shakes his head.
“Anyway, look at what you’ve done. Now we’re both stuck in here. This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t tried to shoot me out of this humongous cannon.”
“No,” Junko corrects him. “This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t avoided death earlier when I was setting off explosives.”
“What?” Makoto exclaims. “So I’m just supposed to lay down and explode from a stick of dynamite?”
“Yes,” she confirms. “That’s what’s supposed to happen. Or you’re supposed to be unlucky and get hit by a piece of flaming debris.”
“And what’s the point in all that?” Makoto asks cynically.
“Because I like you,” Junko says rather abruptly. “That’s why I’ve been chasing after you all night and setting off explosives near you. I just wanted your attention all along.”
Makoto rolls his eyes.
“You’re joking, aren’t you.”
“No, I’m not,” she replies, and for once she sounds serious. “I like you, Makoto.”
He looks at her blue eyes, blond hair, and torn up yukata. Junko Enoshima was quite possibly one of the most beautiful girls he had ever met, not to mention one of the most insane girls he had ever met. And yet, was it possible? He stared at her, trying to decipher her, and then she burst into laughter.
“Bwahaha! You’re so naive, Makoto. How could I ever like an ordinary, non-despair-inducing guy like you?” she says cuttingly.
Yeah, she was the same Junko he’d always known after all.
Makoto sighs, looking at the still-lit cigar in Junko’s mouth. Honestly, the nerve of this girl…
Wait. The cigar was glowing rather brightly, which let him see a little. It seemed like there was a little chink in the cannon somewhere next to his butt. He felt around and pressed at it, and suddenly fell through the cannon’s walls and onto the plain ground. The wall closed back up, and Makoto stood and ran. The cannon had been elevated, so there was ample space under it to stand and walk. The fuse seemed to be running out as the spark traveled closer and closer to the butt of the cannon.
Meanwhile, Junko sat in the cannon comfortably.
“He got away again,” she sighed. “How despairful… But on the bright side, the cannon’s about to fire!”
She puffed at her cigar.
“This is gonna be a good show.”
She climbed out toward the mouth of the cannon and stuck her head out, looking around. There he was. Makoto hadn’t gotten too far yet since it’d only been a few seconds since he’d escaped.
“Yoohoo, Makoto!”
The person in question stopped running away momentarily and looked over. Of course. Who else would be calling his name? She was waving at him, too.
“Wish you were here,” Junko winked at him and blew out a smokey heart ring before settling back inside the cannon, even though at that point, it would’ve been easy for her to simply climb out of the cannon.
Outside of the cannon, Makoto sprinted away, plugging his ears, and then stood, safely in the forest, watching as the cannon shot out one Junko Enoshima, who seemed like a dazzling shooting star bursting forth; hot, bright sparks flew out from the display, and the ground rumbled, quaking with the vibrations and noise of the massive contraption exerting-no, unleashing-its force.
“Yes! Despair!” she shouted. “Woohoo!”
The distance made her voice seem faint, but it was miraculous Makoto could even still hear her at all in the midst of all the noise. People were watching from the festival grounds, clapping and cheering for her. After all the trouble she caused, they were rather happy she’d been shot out of a cannon to somewhere hopefully far away from the night’s festivities. Makoto himself was simply relieved that it wasn’t him who got shot out of that cannon. Who knows what would have happened to him?
And with that, the night of the Tanabata Festival came to a close, and the shining Junko Enoshima disappeared into the dark night sky, brilliantly twinkling out of sight with a “ding!”
“A fitting end, don’t you think?”
Kyouko was standing next to Makoto, who startled at her words and glanced at her briefly before looking back at the beautiful night sky.
“Kyouko? When did you get here?”
“I was here all along,” she smiles. “You ran over here after I got here.”
“So you were going to just watch as Junko shot me out of that ridiculous cannon,” Makoto said in an accusing tone.
Kyouko shook her head.
“I knew it’d end up like this.”
Makoto turned his head to look at her. Kyouko’s pink eyes were shining slightly.
“Did you cut out a door for me to fall out of?” he questioned.
Neither confirming nor denying his words, Kyouko just smiled mysteriously.
“I’ll just say it was lucky that you escaped her plans again. As expected of the Ultimate Lucky Student.”
-----
Omake Junko flew through the sky, her trusty cigar still in her mouth, and she protected the end from the wind as she tried to light it up again- but to no avail.
“Grr! Can’t a girl just smoke a cigar?” she complained. But at least she didn’t have any more explosives or fireworks to set off anyway, she thought to herself. It’d been a good night, though. It was despair-inducing that she ended up getting shot out of the cannon instead and that Makoto escaped a gruesome fate yet again.
She looked toward the hills. She was about to hit the ground. She shrugged and tapped the ashes off of her cigar before putting it back in her mouth, smirking. When Junko did something, she always did it in fashion. And that included crash landings or even possible death.
She falls on the ground ungracefully- disgraced, but alive. Maybe now that she wasn’t flying through the sky anymore, she could relight her cigar. She digs around for her lighter, but it’s nowhere to be found. Junko sighs. It must have dropped out of her pocket on her ride over here. Hopefully, it would set some trees on fire and bring despair somewhere, she thought to herself.
“Makoto sure is one lucky bastard,” she reflects. “Well, I guess he hasn’t really got anything else going for him, though, so it’s his one saving grace. Everything else about him is the most average of the average.”
She looks out over the clearing of nature to take in her surroundings, only to see that something huge is barreling straight in her direction at Mach speed.
“Uh-oh.”
Makoto was holding a teddy bear plushie and eating konpeito, candied stars when he noticed a huge, billowing mushroom cloud in the distance. His phone vibrated with a notification, and he pulled it out only to see a message from Junko, which read:
“I’m alive!😁✌️ Bet you would be dead if you were me 💕💕I’ll get you next time 😜”
His phone vibrated again, and a photo appeared in the chat. Did he even want to look? He sighed. Better to know what was going on, after all.
He tapped on the photo to reveal Junko herself, covered in black ashes from head to toe, her yukata even more ripped up than the last time he’d seen her, and the overbearing cigar was still snug between her lips and lit- it looked like the cigar had been relit from the explosion of what remained of the missile in the background next to her feet. As expected of Junko: not even a ride through space from a massive cannon and fall from grace could defeat her, and neither could a military-issue missile.
Makoto was not looking forward to the next time. He very much hoped there wouldn’t be a next time.
But the fact that Junko was alive ensured it, and he put his phone back in his pocket, accepting his fate. Hopefully the next time, he would come out alive and safe again, if not a little ragged.
Pictures.. Yep. Here.
