1744/Sometimes These Things Just Happen

Sometimes These Things Just Happen
Date of Scene:	18 July 2016
Location:	Earth Court Frat House
Synopsis:	Makoto talks with Kunzite about what happened to her parents, and about the questions her Nullheart raised. Maybe it's just chance. Maybe not. But she's chosen to find out.
Cast of Characters:	Kunzite, Makoto Kino

---

Kunzite has posed:
Changes, changes. The kitchen that Makoto chose as her preferred of the alternatives is now up and running, all supplies transferred over; a sign on the usual entry door points visitors at a different one, which leads into the living room adjacent to that kitchen. The furniture's been moved over, too. Daytime hours are marked with the sounds of power tools and contractors at work -- or Contractors, depending on how one prefers to put it.

In short: things were broken, things were scarred, but a determined effort is in progress to put some of them right.

That's how it goes in a lot of arenas, really.

Makoto Kino has posed:
Makoto is occupying the kitchen this afternoon, in accordance with a habit not much altered by relocation to an alternate part of the floor. Most of the actual kitchen work is done at this point, though. She's trying her hand at tagine, albeit without the traditional clay cookpot that shares the name; it's simmering on the stovetop, fragrant with spices, and Mako is just now finishing the last of the cleanup, wiping down the counter where she'd been working.

She's been quiet, though that hasn't exactly been an unusual state of affairs the past month or so.

With no particular lead-in, she looks up from the clean counter towards Kunzite, forehead creasing as her brows draw together. "You were talking to Ami-chan a while back," she says, more or less out of nowhere, "about looking into what happened to Mamoru-niisan's parents. Have you been able to find anything out yet?"

Kunzite has posed:
The day in which Kunzite will object to quiet is a rare thing indeed. The more so since there's a routine of sorts beginning to develop -- he's had time to begin to know Makoto's habits in the kitchen, to begin to be able to guess where she'll want to be and when, what will hold her attention, what can be quietly taken out of her way and dealt with and what she'll be alarmed to find missing. Still an assistant, but beginning to be more like an assistant who is also a ghost. When she's not inclined to talk, that is.

Dishes are drying, therefore, without her intervention; ingredients have been put away. Her look upward catches him glancing over the kitchen to see what might have been forgotten. (Answer: nothing. it's Makoto.) And that the topic is out of nowhere doesn't slow his response. "Nothing new, so far," he says. "But that's not a surprise. We've had other problems. And if there is anything there, it will take time, most likely. Newer things will happen, connections show themselves. Besides. If we're fortunate, then there simply won't be anything to find."

Makoto Kino has posed:
"...yeah." It's a subdued murmur, and Makoto looks down again, uncomfortable, but the counter is spotless and there's no busywork left to occupy herself with. Soon enough, she draws in a breath and makes herself look up again.

"Has he told you anything about why I live by myself?" She asks it as though the two subjects are related.

Kunzite has posed:
"He hasn't said anything. But you're his sister." As if that meant something specific. Kunzite has leaned back against the counter, hands braced on its edge; he's looking at nothing in particular in the middle of the kitchen, not turning his gaze on her. "But there've been other things said." By her. By her warped and doomed doppelganger. "Enough to understand a little."

No-one ever understands more than that, really. Even those who share the same wounds -- the shape of them is individual; the losses unique.

Makoto Kino has posed:
Makoto nods quietly, not that it has much meaning with neither of them looking at each other. She's looking down again herself, absently twisting the cloth between her hands.

"It was a plane crash," she says, quiet and plain. "Five years ago. It's - there's nothing to say it has to be connected. Sometimes these things just happen."

That's something that she's clearly told herself many times. Trying to convince herself. To make sense of the senseless. Just as clearly, it's no more comfort now than it would have been five years ago.

"I keep thinking back, and I can't remember anything that would make anyone think they knew about..." Mako's voice trails off there for a moment, and unable to keep still, she starts wiping down the perfectly clean counter again. "I didn't want to think about it. But some of the things that copy of me was saying..."

Kunzite has posed:
There are two steps. She can hear them; he must be making an effort. No other sound, before there's the weight of a hand on one of her shoulders. Nothing that gets in the way of what she's doing. But contact.

There are several seconds of silence, after.

"One day," he says at last. "If the time is ever right. Would you tell me about them?"

Makoto Kino has posed:
Makoto stills when that hand comes to rest on her shoulder, the attempt at distracting herself by cleaning the already-clean counter dying away. She doesn't look up, but she does nod, silent assent.

"...It might not be connected," she says after a moment. "It's probably not connected. Even if it was, after this long, there might not be any way to know for sure. Just--"

Now, finally, she makes herself look up again. The smile she turns up towards Kunzite is helpless, brittle. "The question won't go away. I couldn't keep on ignoring it any more."

Kunzite has posed:
Those gray eyes are focused on her after all, now. Head bent a little to look at her; his hair's still too short to sweep forward and get in the way. His hand is steady against her, his gaze steady ... almost too much so. There ought to be at least a hint of skittishness, in anyone even halfway normal. Trouble looking at her. Uncertainty about what to do or say. There's none that shows, not in his posture, not in his hands, not in his voice or his eyes.

"They deserve answers," he says quietly. "So do you."

Something in his tone carries the reminder that the meanings of answer are not limited to 'explanation.'

Makoto Kino has posed:
Normal or not, for Makoto at least there seems to be some reassurance in that unwavering steadiness. The brittle smile fades into a more muted gratitude, and a little bit of the edge of tension in her recedes. "Thank you," she murmurs.

A beat; she lets out a breath. "Sorry for taking this long to work up to saying something. I can't figure out which would be worse... never knowing, or finding out that it was connected after all. But either way... ignoring it doesn't solve anything."

Kunzite has posed:
For a moment there's something at the corner of Kunzite' mouth; it's not the time for a smile, but it might have shadowed one if it were. "It shouldn't surprise me by now that you would take a kinder view than I could imagine." That whatever-it-was vanishes, and he says, "Thank you for speaking at all."

I wish I could have known them. I wish you'd never lost them. I'm sorry that you did.

Things he will probably never say out loud.

Makoto Kino has posed:
Surprise flickers over Makoto's face, just for a moment, a slight widening of her eyes. Then she shakes her head, though she doesn't say anything to indicate if it's his thanks she doesn't feel are needed, or his description of her view as kind.

What she says is, "If there's any other way I can help with looking into it, you'll let me know, right?"

Not ignoring his earlier request for her to tell him about her parents - but that, much like raising the subject at all, will take some working up to. A fact he clearly knows already, or he wouldn't have said 'one day' when he asked it.

Kunzite has posed:
There are a thousand things she could do. But all of them start with that one; and it's not the time for that one yet. So her answer this time is, instead, "I will."

Nothing more than that; and a few seconds later, he lets his hand fall.

Makoto Kino has posed:
This time, the smile that briefly touches Makoto's face is genuine, all the way to her eyes. A little nod, and then she turns away, moving to the stove to check on the progress of her tagine.

The rest can wait, for now.