What Rules Cannot Hold (A Naekusaba story)

Postscriptum III: Forgotten Failures

''Go. What are you standing here for?'' Junko whispered impatiently to Mukuro. ''Those idiots had sent someone into the building. They'll get him for sure.''

''Junko, I can't leave you. What if something happens?'' Mukuro responded, still lost about everything happening around her. But, this wasn't a moment for explanatory considerations; Makoto was in danger - that's what mattered.

''Listen, I'm getting fed up with you. Why can't you just do as I say?!'' Junko's expression twitched from frustration as she went on. ''Why, why do you always have to disappoint me? Why won't you listen?!''

''Listen. . .?''

Frolicking children rushed onto the playground, determined to occupy the best slides and swings before others. The teacher meant to supervise them was at a loss, and frequently ran from one side of the playground to the other to castigate naughty pupils, or prevent dangerous games.

Mukuro was sitting on a swing, fascinated by how moving her legs back and forth allowed her to ascend into the sky, only to then effortlessly descend and ascend again.

''Mukuro!'' A teary voice called. In an instant, Mukuro noticed that it was Junko.

''Junko?'' She jumped off the swing with finesse unusual for a child of her age and approached her sister. ''What happened?''

''H-He pulled my hair!" Junko complained pathetically, wiping her eyes, though Mukuro didn't see any tears.

''Who?''

''T-That boy!'' She then pointed at a boy standing under a tree at the far end of the playground. Mukuro recognised the boy; it wasn't the first time that he teased Junko, but his behaviour was clearly inspired by childish infatuation rather than by malice.

''Why did he do it?'' Mukuro asked.

''I-I don't know. . .'' Junko covered her face with her hands. ''He called me ugly, too.''

While Mukuro wasn't pleased to hear either of those accusations, she was in the dark about what to do. After Junko uncovered her face, she caught onto that uncertainty and glared at Mukuro resentfully.

''Do something!'' She yelled, flailing her little fists. ''He! Pulled! My! Hair! Do something to him!''

Her voice melted with the hubbub made by the other children. To Mukuro, however, that was the only audible sound; everything became subordinate to her sister's domineering presence.

''I will, Junko, I will.''

Nothing was clear. She and Junko were taking apart their stall when it happened. Noisy conversations already started between students about what was to be done after the festival; many having set their minds on possible parties or other wild schemes, but sharp stares from Kyoko or Taka often dissuaded them from these endeavours. An air of success and satisfaction, however, filled everyone's chest. Their efforts were recognised and applauded by the principal; a cause of immense relief as most students, following their relocation, fell short of their study and so, they hoped to be granted leniency from the teachers.