∽ m i r a c l e ' s ∽

I had to recover quickly. . . I wanted to.

All of the people around me had that kind of agonizing attempts to tell me what had happened, but it seemed like I couldn't fully understand everything. It must be the aftereffect of the gunshot.

My hair was still shaved and the scars after the surgery were still visible. The gunshot wound at the center of my head was prominent. A part of my upper left head area sagged and that would be permanent.

Up to now, three months had passed, I was still an in-patient of this hospital. The main focus of my rehabilitation was to keep my body flexible and doing things like the rage of motion, making my muscles loosed by doing some stretches, and monitoring my skin if there were skin breakdowns or sores.

When I could not move my whole body except the arms, they made me do a lot of series of exercises while I was still lying on the bed. They also made me try the CRT, Cognitive Rehabilitation Therapy. This treatment attempted to enhance my functioning and cognitive impairments as a result of brain damage or the Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI) they called.

I did everything that I had been told. Until the time came when my cognitive system started to function in a wide range of activities. It was a good sign, they said. Telling me that my brain was firing more new neurons and it could function more actively.

Soon, I was able to stand up, sit properly, and walk. Yet, my strength wasn't fully recovered. I still had those sensory, balance, and coordination problems. The hurdles that I had to jump was too high—being all so functionally limited when it came to mobility.

All of the persons who had watched me come this far never gave up, still guiding and helping me to go back to normal. But I knew to myself that I would acquire some permanent damages.

I was shot on the left side of my brain, thus my whole right part that my left brain controlled became really limited. My left hand became my dominated hand. As well as to my sights. I now only had a partial vision on my right eye.

Even my speech, it remained the most frustrating part. When I thought of something that I wanted to say, I couldn't just seem to get in the brain. It was awful to say, but the doctors said that I had aphasia. It wasn't that severe, but the fact that it has affected the comprehension of my speech and the ability to read or write, it was always a challenge. Everything was always on the tip of my tongue (lethologica), but not all the way.

At this moment, I was resting inside my room from all the training I did. I was seated on my bed with a portable desk in front of me and a book on my hands.

I was reading about sign languages for beginners. While reading, someone knocked on the door. I averted my eyes to someone who came inside and it was Nathan.

Immediately, I painted a broad smile on my face.

"Hey," he greeted me and jumped beside me on the bed, wrapped a hand around my shoulders and gave me a peck on the head. "What are you reading?"

I never wanted to speak, so I only showed the book to him.

Nathan only pursed his lips, "Why, though? Speaking can make you tired?"

"Yes, yes . . ." I nodded my head, "Tired, yes, tired."

I couldn't speak without repeating the same word. It was not really speaking, but mimicking. It was hard for me to produce words and I only learn through someone else's words. Nathan was a great help for me, because he already knew what was inside my head before I could say it.

Nathan smiled, "Do you want me to help you study?"

My smile never faltered. My feelings were always light whenever Nate was here. And he was always here with me.

He sat on the vacant chair beside my gurney and started to teach me the signs of alphabets through hand gestures, then the basic greetings.

I was just imitating the signals he was doing, and when I was tired already, I rested my back on the bed.

Then Nate laid beside me again, grabbing my right hand. "I guess, that would be enough for today. Do you want to eat something? I can ask Chance to buy it for you."

I rested my head on his shoulder, thinking about food. "Uhm . . . I want some, some pastries."

"What kind?"

"Any-Anything strawberries . . . strawberries."

"Copy that," Nathan took his phone out and started contacting his friend Chance.

Nate told me that they were really good friends. Not only Chance, as well as his other friends. He even told me that we became classmates in high school, and unfortunately, I couldn't remember them. I was still suffering from retrograde amnesia, still unable to recall the previously made memories in years—in a decade, even.

"Hime, why do you want to learn sign language?" he asked me.

I took a deep inhale and slightly pouted my lips, "B-Because . . . It's frustrating, really frustrating . . . awful. Th-Then, I f-feel like I'm having a child-like behavior, w-worse than an abecedarian wh-who can't, can't speak well . . ."

Nate was just playing my fingers with his and intertwining them after. "I know it's frustrating, but do you know that the body can regenerate on its own? Although it'll take a little while, but you'll be fine someday."

"E-Even my cognitive system?"

"Well, the fact that you can speak very well than in the previous months, it's a good indication that you're doing fine."

I only nodded to his uplifting words and tried to hold his hand tighter. Nathan was one of my sources of strength.

Not that long when Chance arrived, not only him, but also the four remaining friends of Nate. Chance was holding a box of cake, Justine was bringing a bouquet of sunflowers, Sean was also bringing fruits and other snacks, Yaehl was here but his eyes were set on a hand-held console game, and Kieffer wasn't bringing any but his brightest smile.

Every single one of them was so lively. Whenever they were here, it felt like I was having new brothers.

"Hey!" Nate bawled out, "What do you louts doing here?"

"Easy, Nate!" Justine sneered at him, "Hello, Nat!" and greeted me while throwing his fist for a bump.

I grinned, "Hi, Just," and greeted him, hitting his fist back with mine.

"Oh, hello, Nat," Yaehl stated and I only watched him how he laid on the end of my bed and he only continuously played his game.

"NATSUMI!!" Kieffer and Sean quickly ran to me and fawned over me. Well, as usual.

I smiled at them.

"We brought foods, let's eat!" Kieffer was all being giddy and went to the nook table to put the foods down.

I noticed Nathan being annoyed with all the shenanigans.

"If Kuya Mike happened to know that you're all not working, all of you will be dead!"

"Well, that includes you, too, Nate," Yaehl mused casually, "You skipped your work and went here."

"I have the rights to visit her, smart-ass," Nate retorted.

"The same goes with us," Justine laughed as he sat on the corner of my bed. "By the way, it's our free time and it'll be good for Nat to have visitors to interact with. If it's for Nat, I'm sure that Kuya Mike will be considerate."

"Bastards," Nathan only muttered.

I laughed silently and saw Justine winked at me. Really rotten bastards.

After a little while, I watched Chance placed a neatly sliced cake on my desk with a pastry fork.

"Thank you," I muttered as a reply. Our gazes only met, but he never said a word.

Chance was the most silent person in the group. I had no idea if we get along in the past. In the span of three months, he was just there, watching over me. It was not obvious enough, but he always, constantly, got my back.

Though we never had that meaningful conversation.

I started eating, the same with them. We became busy eating, while I stayed silent—rarely talking.

Justine was arranging the sunflowers he gave me in a vase and settled the flowers on my bedside table. "Any heads-up about your condition, Nat?"

I quizzically made a face. It must be obvious to them. I only adjusted my sit on the bed and answered, "Uh, well . . . Except that, I'm always b-bored, hmm . . . I'm doing a lot better."

"Y'all see?" Sean exclaimed, "Nat is always bored, she needs someone to accompany her all the time!" and he grabbed my right hand. "Don't worry, Nat, I will visit you here more often so that you won't be bored anymore, aye?"

I gave Sean my warmest smile, "Thank you, Sean."

"AHH! Nat, you're so adorable! I wanna squish your face!" Sean was about to pound me a hug and I didn't know how was I going to defend my frailty self from him.

Good thing, Nathan pushed him away from me. "Stay away from her, Sean! I will break your neck!"

They were so noisy. But I was thankful for them. I was glad for Nate found some true friends. They also worked for Kuya Mike's detective agency—an elite one.

"You're not having have any glimpse of memories of us, Nat?" Keiffer inquired on the other side.

I drew an apologetic expression, "I'm sorry, I'm, I'm not getting any."

"I see, Nat," he made a puppy face and pouty lips, "I wish you well."

Later that day, Credell came in front of the doorsteps. He got a full smile on his face as went near me.

I immediately looked at the wall clock hanging on a wall and it said that it was four o'clock in the afternoon. Ah, time for my regular check-up.

"Good thing you're having fun, Mira," Credell greeted me. I just nodded at him. Credell never spoke but to smile and started his check-up.

He went closer to me and lifted my chin. With his medical penlight, he surveyed my eyes-especially my right eye.

"Your right eye, the pupil, is not reacting to the light at all," he spoke.

"It will be really permanent?" I asked him.

"Well, I can't give you the right answer," Credell replied, settling himself in a comfortable sitting position on the bed. "But a little hope up, your right sight might get better if we do some proper medication and performing a healthy lifestyle."

"Okay," I pursed my lips as a response. I had (kind of) accepted that my right vision was partially blind. I would adapt to these changes in the meanwhile.

He grabbed my right arm and studied it. "I see that you're gaining weight, a good thing. Your skin has gotten that good elasticity and smooth texture. You still have the bruises?" I shook my head. "Got body or joint pains?"

His questions made me laugh. "No, no, I don't. Thanks to all of you."

"Okay, okay," he chuckled. "Let me check your blood pressure, then."

Still holding my right arm, he prepared his sphygmomanometer and attached it properly to me.

I was only looking at Credell while getting my BP. Credell was always dedicated to his job, very gentle, and committed.

"Oh, your blood pressure is normal-120 over 80," he declared once it was done. "Your heart is normal, too, no signs of conflictions."

"Yo, Credell," Justine greeted him and put an arm on his left shoulder. "Are you a licensed doctor already?"

"Yeah, right," Sean, on the other shoulder, seconded and did what Justine did. "You're casually touching Natsumi. Where're your parents?"

Credell got that awkward smile on his face, but still managed to handle the small pressure that Justine and Sean giving him.

"Yeah, I do. I got my medical degree in Oxford, and currently a resident doctor in my family's hospital."

The two gave off a satisfying look.

"That's amazing, Doc!" laughed Justine.

"Just 'Credell'," answered him, "You guys are not new to me. And I think you're all a lot amazing than I am."

"Eh, I think healing someone is cooler." Sean commented, "You mostly know all about the medical stuff. Not all can do that."

"Please don't say that," Credell chuckled warily. "Unlike you all, I couldn't even do a proper punch."

"Oh, that's not a problem, C!" Sean answered back, full of familiarity. "When you're free, leggo train together! I will be the one who will train you! And you will surely be great! Even the world-renowned champion will lose to you!"

"Cut it, you pompous windbag!" Justine immediately did a headlock to Sean and pulled him away from Credell and every one of us laughed because of it.

"Well, we may have the different line of profession," Credell said and after a short pause, he continued, "but our main goal is to save a life. I could see that we'll get along well."

The words he said left us all astounded. That was too powerful. And his words triggered something in me. A memory.

It seemed like Credell noticed my stare at him, so he smiled, "Anything wrong?"

I immediately shook my head. "I've just remembered a certain memory in me, the moment you said those words."

"Really?" I nodded. "What is it?"

"It was about . . ." I paid everyone a quick look before continuing, "Dennis."

Once again, everyone fell silent upon hearing my words. Their faces had the unflinching austere expressions in a furtive way.

Although Credell almost let go off the sphygmomanometer and forcefully etched a smile. His smile had a sign of discomfort.

"Y-You remember him?" Credell stuttered.

"Yeah, yes, I do. Do you . . . Do you know him?"

Credell clipped a nod, "He's my brother, Mira."

My face got enlightened upon hearing his response, "Right! He, he told me that he had an older brother, but I . . . I never knew that it was you!"

He grinned sideways, "How do you know Dennis?"

"W-Well . . . Biologically, I should be twenty-one, but my brain only remembers the eleven-year-old me," I tried hard to speak normally, "Uh, then . . . those times, my mind can vividly vision all the memories that happened."

Their eyes were all glued on me, waiting for the next words that I was about to say. Every one of them looked so anticipatedly, more like hungry to suffice their curiosity.

"On ages nine to eleven . . . I think," I continued, "I . . . I always failed my missions . . . Dad . . . Dad was very strict at that time. And each . . . Each time I failed my missions, I would get a punishment. The p-punishment would be severe for me to handle . . . that, that I had to be hospitalized for . . . for a week."

Then Nate suddenly took a hold of my hand, convincing me to stop talking. "Hime . . . You don't have to tell them that."

I grinned at Nate and caressed his hand dearly, gesturing him that it was all right.

"In the hospital, I met him. During my recovery, he was always there," I rendered a small smile on my face, remembering every single memory of those days. "Although he was a year older than me, he decided to work in the hospital to hone his talents, so he was assigned to take care of me. Probably . . . because we were at the same age, and he really wanted to save a life . . . Or lives, I would say.

"Every time I got discharged from the hospital, I would be given a new task . . . Another assassination work." I guessed it was fine to speak this topic. They worked for Kuya Mike, thus they should know about the history of it. "But all I did was to fail them. Every failure was equivalent to punishment. And I . . . I became a regular patient of the hospital he was working with. S-So, we became friends.

"It would really painful. Painful punishments . . ." I professed, but inside me, my mind could still remember every beat, punches, and whips that caused me a lot of scars. "But Dad was really firm in his decisions to punish me, for he thought that it would make me strong and courageous . . . but the thing I only gained was fear. Fear out of everything . . ."

I played with my hands to stealthily soothe myself from the anxiousness I was feeling.

"So it happened, I came to the point that I was vindicated that I had a really weak constitution . . ." I inhaled and exhaled a deep breath. The painful memories were flooding me, feeling the soft panics that grew bigger and bigger as the seconds passed by. "Until Dad decided to let me have those brainwashing sessions. I understood why he would allow it, because if I remained weak, I would never survive the competitive world of assassination.

"Each session, they would erase some memories in me. That included Dennis to be erased from me." I took a new inhale and carried it on. "After the session, Dennis would tell me that we were friends, but I couldn't remember him. The he would always tell me that it was fine, we would need to create new memories, instead."

I finally took my breaths back just thinking how kind Dennis was to me. "He was a very cheerful kid, lifting me up when I was feeling down. But those brainwashing sessions were repeated over a period of time. So he came up with a plan that I should keep a journal or photos, in case I would forget him again, I had the proof that we were good friends. I think, those journals and photos are still existing . . . They were in our old manor, I hid them in my room."

Nathan was speechless after hearing this story. No one really knew about it, for I didn't really tell anyone.

"Y-You . . . remember those horrible memories, Hime?" Nate was utterly dumbstruck.

"Yes, yes . . . I do," I replied, "Ever since I woke up from my coma, those memories came back rushing over me. But the fact that I could still remember Dennis here in my eleven-year-old self, then I had never committed any mistake, or given a new mission . . . Or almost certainly, I couldn't remember anything further . . . Further in my eleven-year-old self."

I noticed Credell smiling with the utmost earnestness, he gently caressed my head. "I'm glad that you can remember him . . . And all of his kind acts towards you."

I bowed my head and rendered a grateful smile, "Where is he now? Do you perhaps know?"

Credell might not hide it well, but his remorse was easy to depict. "I-I am sorry, Mira . . . but you might not be able to see Dennis for now."

"Why?"

He smiled, standing up, "Well, he's now in the place that no one knows where." and he chuckled and started leaving the room. "Have a good rest, Mira. I will see you later."

Then we were left silent in this four-cornered room. Each one of them was giving off an aura of grief. Something really sad and gloomy.

I never knew why . . . for a person like me who started after death, it felt like I needed to have my memories back . . . I needed to reclaim my life.

↭ ♡ ↭

helloooooooooo~~~

for a cognitively impaired like Miracle, she sounded like so smart, isnt she? hahahahah and im having a doubt if im gonna continue this or not hahahha. i shouldve rlly killed her. but yah, i have other plans.

here are the reasons why i pushed it through (miracle's pov):

- it'll more troublesome to write it in third pov. i hate writing 3rd povs bc i hate it lol. well, in 3rds, you have to cover all the characters' povs and write them. like thats hella annoying. so, as much as i can, imma do a first pov. i think, i did fine XD

- why not create a chance's pov again? nah. i think it's more sincere and real if i did a miracle's pov. besides, when writing a chance's pov, it feels like i have to eat a poet's brain just to complete a chapter of him narrating hahahahha. have you seen the chapter eleven? but writing chance's pov is surely fun, but very draining ahahhahahaaha not rlly, tbh/

- tagalog? tagalog? ha? hahaha XD uhm nah. it's difficult for me to write in tagalog, bc that's how i characterized them. just following my inner ear hahaha bastaaaa akin na yown.

anddddd i cant think of other reasons lol.

⚡ handtheirend