What Rules Cannot Hold (A Naekusaba story)

Chapter 11

''Did she hurt you?'' Makoto asked, having rushed towards Mukuro's bed after passing Junko. His senses were dazed by this sudden outburst of stress. He took Mukuro's hand to calm down. The girl squeezed it, her face carrying an aftermath of the shock she endured during Junko's visit. Makoto looked back at her with guilt. 

''I completely forgot about her...or maybe I didn't expect her to come here,'' Makoto said, but something else moved his curiosity. ''Mukuro, can you remember her? I mean, the girl that was just here.''

''No, I cannot,'' she muttered in response. She started to utter laconic, or at least monosyllabic, responses recently, which gladdened Makoto, as it meant that her recovery could be quicker than expected, yet her memory loss concerned him as it saw little improvement. 

''I see. Anyway, let's not worry about that now. Some of our classmates will visit you today.'' Makoto grabbed his phone and showed a photo of their class. ''You see? Sakura, Chihiro, Chiaki, Gonta, Sayaka and maybe Kirumi will come. I know that you can't remember them, but trust me when I say that they're great people. Sakura and Gonta saved us, after all.''

Mukuro nodded smiling. Makoto thought about asking something else but ultimately decided to do that later. About half an hour later they heard a sizeable number of footsteps approaching them. The students arrived, each carrying something of their own. 

''Gonta very much happy that Mukuro safe!'' Gonta loomed over the girl and took out a ball of amber within which rested a butterfly with its wings fully spread out. ''No worry. Gonta find butterfly not alive!" 

Mukuro thanked him and took the sphere of amber, inspecting the butterfly whose true colours were difficult to discern. 

The rest of the crew followed, gifting Mukuro bouquets, plushies and, strangely enough, protein, but that was only from Sakura. Kirumi came late, offering Mukuro a plate of pastries which the maid baked herself with particular care for a diversity of flavours. 

The group spoke excitedly about the new place whereto they would be relocated and where they could continue their study without being bothered by unwanted attention from the reporters or common folk. Hope's Peak had the entire country's attention and the inaccessibility of students often resulted in parents being bombarded with visits and letters from strangers instead. The headmaster assured the students that the rest of the school year would be a mixture of study and recreation - the only way for the school to recompensate for all of the troubles without neglecting the students' development. 

Makoto listened quietly, glancing at Mukuro occasionally to see if anything said to her by the group had any effect on her. She smiled, laughed, assented: everything he needed to see to conclude that her memory wasn't enlivened by the presence of her classmates. 

They left an hour later, wishing for Mukuro to recover soon. She waved at them ruefully, looking over her gifts again. She considered all the things she must've done that made these to show so much care for her, giving up each time as her memory was of no use. 

''Would you like to go for a walk?'' Makoto asked, walking towards a window that presented a small glimpse of the pink hue that coloured the evening sky. Mukuro nodded and he immediately assisted her with getting onto the wheelchair which she was given temporarily - or as long as walking proved troublesome. 

Since it wasn't too cold, Makoto took her outside. The hospital had a courtyard which was ornamented with both artificial and living vegetation; there were also benches and marble fountains. Makoto stopped beside one of the fountains and sat on the edge, amazed how well the blushing sky reflected in the water. 

''This is wonderful,'' he said, moving closer to Mukuro who seemed as entranced by the spectacular sunset as he was. He couldn't believe that the Mukuro who trained him was, as of now, lost and that maybe she wouldn't come back. The possibility of her remaining in this state, though small, instilled him with hopelessness. But Mukuro's helplessness pained his heart too much for him to relent and so finding ways to awake her memory was his new occupation, yet he grew increasingly disheartened after seeing little progress. 

The pink hue faded, replaced by a darkening blue and a pale face of the appearing moon. Meanwhile, the hospital building shone in an almost excessive brightness, the courtyard being the only place where one could seek some refuge from its blinding luminosity. 

Makoto genuflected in front of Mukuro. He reached out for her hands, taking them with an affection similar to that he displayed towards her on her dorm's threshold - an old memory characterised by a tender sensation. 

Mukuro responded in her usual manner, but her smile was more uncertain and gaze more questioning. She had learnt to respond to some of Makoto's gestures, yet in many instances he was rather unpredictable. 

''Can you remember me, Mukuro?'' Makoto asked, his face reddening. 

Mukuro stared at him blankly, unsure what the boy expected her to say. 

''Yes,'' she finally responded, her attention directed at the water splashing in the fountain, where faces of coins lying somewhere beneath the water shimmered briefly. 

''Do you remember when we met?''

''Yes.''

''Do you remember that we were friends?''

''Yes.''

''Do you remember our training?'' Makoto's voice noticeably faltered upon asking the last question and his arms slunk, nearly letting go of Mukuro. 

Mukuro looked away, trying to remember something in any way related to Makoto's question. There was nothing, neither did anything come into her mind in response to previous questions, since she assumed that he strictly referred to their time at the hospital. She sensed Makoto's disappointment and so tried to lessen it by any means necessary. At that moment she was not able to deceive him anymore; her eyes became watery, tears begging for their release. She responded, her response escaping the scrutiny of her guilt:

''No.''

Makoto's hands trembled. He expected as much, but it was an expectation that he always wished to be wrong. 

They spent the remaining time together in silence, before Makoto had to take Mukuro back to her ward where he helped her with getting the bed ready for the night. By the time he left, she had already ate her supper and was asleep. 

He packed his stuff and spotted the butterfly Gonta gifted to Mukuro. The insect seemed like a still-frame captured in the past, now eternally stuck in the same state.