Mukuro listened, tracking his motions. It was uncanny. She'd known him, or at least known of him, before everything-- and this was accurate, if a bit softer. But she'd known him as her upperclassman, and most closely as a comrade in their bloody business. She'd even been fairly close to Pekoyama, as much as they really could, as close as two weapons could be. And this Kuzuryuu didn't remember her?

He... he'd lost his memories. His memories had been stolen by someone. And now he didn't know her any more. Of course. Of course this would happen, of course, how could anything else have happened. Funny. She almost laughed-- almost, but it came out more like a strangled whine, and she had to hide her face in her hands for a moment. Had to take a moment to breathe, and focus, and stop her dizzy spinning and static thoughts from overwhelming her. This wasn't how a soldier was supposed to be. She could already hear Junko in her head, laughter like knives, useless, disappointing sister, just a meek little dog--

"Sorry," she murmured, her own voice sounding distant in her ears, "I-- I don't-- I don't know where I am--" That was an easier thing to explain, easier to deal with, than her execution.