The next morning, the snow continued to fall silently and steadily. In the makeshift examination room, the gray light of dawn filtered through the window, softened by the frosted glass. On the stretcher, the girl began to stir. First, there was a slight tremor in her fingers, then a slow, heavy blinking. Finally, her eyes opened.
She looked at the ceiling. Then at the window.
The snow fell in dense, hypnotic flakes, covering the world in absolute white. The little girl watched the scene with a blank expression, without surprise or relief, as if she were contemplating something that did not belong to her.
At that moment, the door opened softly.
Haru entered, still wearing his coat, and when he saw her awake, he stood motionless for just a second before reacting.
—Rane! —he called with restrained urgency—. Rane, she's awake!
The doctor's hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway. Rane burst into the room, adjusting his glasses, his professional gaze assessing every detail even before he reached the stretcher.
—Good morning, little one —he said calmly as he leaned toward her—. ¿ How are you feeling?
The girl slowly turned her head toward him.
—I don't know...
The weak, monotone response made Rane frown slightly. Without wasting any time, he began to check her: pulse, temperature, pupil reaction. His hands moved with precision, although something in the atmosphere was beginning to tense up.
After a few seconds, he sat up and looked at Haru.
—Everything is fine. Her body responded well to the treatment. But she will have to stay in bed for at least one more day to avoid any complications.
Haru let out a sigh she didn't know she was holding back.
Rane turned his attention back to the girl.
—Tell me, little one... what's your name?
She looked at him silently. Her eyes were clear, serene... too serene.
—I don't know.
The air seemed to suddenly grow cold.
—You don't know? —Rane repeated, cautiously gentle.
The girl shook her head slightly.
—Where am I? Who are you?
Haru felt a lump form in his throat. Rane exchanged a quick glance with him; something wasn't right.
The doctor approached Haru and whispered softly:
—I need to examine her more thoroughly. Wait outside.
Haru nodded without arguing and left, closing the door carefully.
As soon as he was alone, Rane turned back to the girl, asking gentle questions, gauging her reactions. However, each answer was short, distant, without nuance. There was no anxiety, no fear, no confusion.
Nothing.
In the hallway, Haru stood rigidly when Soleia appeared with silent steps.
—How is the girl? —she asked in a low voice.
He did not respond. His gaze was lost.
Soleia watched him for a few seconds before speaking again.
—I made hot chocolate.
She added nothing else. It wasn't necessary.
Haru nodded weakly and followed her to the dining room. The room was small but cozy; a round wooden table occupied the center, covered with a thick orange tablecloth. Three mismatched chairs surrounded it, each marked by years of use. A shelf held jars of dried herbs and ceramic cups. At the back, the kitchen shared the same space: an old iron stove gave off a steady heat, and the aroma of cocoa filled the air, mixed with the soft crackling of the fire.
Soleia poured the chocolate into a steaming cup and slid it toward Haru.
—What's wrong?
He held the cup between his hands, seeking warmth.
—He doesn't remember anything... not even his name.
Soleia was silent for a moment.
—We'll help you —he finally said —. We'll do everything we can.
The words, simple but firm, seemed to barely ease the weight on Haru.
They finished the chocolate in silence.
Shortly after, Rane appeared. She took off her robe as she walked and sat down in front of Haru. Her face, though serene, showed a shadow of concern that was difficult to hide.
Soleia stood up.
—I'll go upstairs to tidy up a few things on the second floor. Talk in the meantime.
Her footsteps faded away on the stairs.
Haru spoke immediately.
—How is she?
Rane rested his forearms on the table.
—Physically, she's stable. But... Haru...
The silence that followed was heavy.
—She's lost her memory.
Haru clenched his jaw.
—From the blow?
—That's what I thought —Rane replied—. I checked his head again. There are no visible wounds, no bruises. Nothing to indicate severe trauma.
—Then... what?
Rane looked away toward the frost-covered window.
—There's something else.
Haru felt a chill.
—I asked him questions. I tried to provoke some kind of emotional reaction. Fear, confusion, sadness... the usual things someone who's disoriented would feel.
He paused.
—But there was nothing.
—Nothing?
—Nothing, Haru. He doesn't express anxiety, curiosity, or fear. It's as if... —he hesitated for a second— ...as if he feels absolutely nothing.
Silence fell like a dead weight.
—What do you mean?
Rane looked at him gravely.
—He didn't just lose his memory.
Another pause.
—He lost his emotions too.
The words hung between them.
Haru swallowed hard.
—Can anything be done?
Rane shook his head slowly.
—To understand what's happening, we'd need more advanced equipment. Scanners, neurological studies... things that don't exist here.
—The city... —Haru murmured.
—Yes. But you know as well as I do that those consultations are expensive.
Reality hit hard.
—Perhaps it would be best to take her to the city and hand her over to the pólice —Rane continued in a tired voice—. They can take care of her. You don't have to take on a burden that isn't yours.
Haru didn't answer and slowly got up.
—Thanks for your help, Rane. But I'm not going to do that.
Without waiting for a reply, Haru headed for the exit. However, Rane followed him and stopped him at the threshold.
—Haru, wait... I know how you feel right now...
The icy wind blew between them
—But you're no longer at an age where you can take care of someone else. The path you want to take will be difficult.
Haru held his gaze.
—I'm not going to leave her alone.
Rane remained silent.
—I'll be back later. Please take care of her in the meantime.
And without adding anything else, Haru walked away into the snow.
Rane remained at the door, watching him disappear.
With an uneasiness he couldn't explain slowly growing in his chest.