"--saw her basically just jump off my balcony when she peaced out of the conversation," Mamoru's saying to Makoto as they meander down the sidewalk on the way to the city's best kept (worst kept?) new secret: the convenience store staffed by a currently-retired magical girl.
"But since then some awful stuff's happened to her, she can't, you know--" he waves a hand sort of up in the air reaching? Like. Like he's about to yell something absurd like 'prince power, make up'. He hopes it gets the point across.
His arm drops and he looks away, faintly red.
"Anyway, she can't anymore. So she got a job, I'm really proud of her. I had to get her a fake ID, but it did the trick... I'm just trying to look out for her, since she never really kept it a secret who she was and if anyone decides they want revenge on her now there's not a lot she can do."
Mamoru gestures up the street to where the mini-mart is. "Plus they've got a mocha machine."
Makoto seems to understand Mamoru's meaning, judging by the way her eyebrows lift and she quickly nods instead of just looking bemused by the odd gesture or something. "That sounds pretty rough," she comments. "It's good that she's managing okay."
Her eyes track his gesture up the street, curious and a bit considering as the mini-mart comes into view. "So," Mako says, in a let-me-get-this-straight sort of manner, "we're going to get mocha and support your friend in her job, basically?"
"Yup!" Mamoru tells Makoto cheerfully, jogging ahead a little and giving her a teasing salute as he pushes the door open with his hip. "In the name of kittens and justice or something. Kyou-chan! Are you in? Is there anyone in here who'll be shocked if I say I need mocha to fuel my car and regenerate a pint of blood or so?"
Well, he'd looked in the window, and he just sounds like a jerk highschooler, so.
Kyou-chan is indeed in. She is nearly always in. Those who don't know her well may not take her for the workaholic type, but let's face facts- she was a full-time magical girl for three years. She has no 'normal life', so when you take that magical girling away, what's left? Nothing. So she's quite literally got nowhere else to be, nothing else to do. Tachibana-san, the old lady who runs the shop, seems happy enough to let her work as much as she wants, since she's pretty good at it, so.. she's nearly always there if the shop is open.
The redhead looks up as the door opens, "Welcome to the P.M.!" SHe chimes in the rote store-greeting, before who is coming in registers, and her normal cocky half-grin slides into a more genuine smile. "Heyyy, it's Mamoru-kun. Of course dude, we got your hookup."
Her eyes turn to Makoto as she presumably follows Mamoru into the store, narrowing just slightly- not in any hostile way, but perhaps with just a hint of cautiousness. She knows anyone with Mamoru is likely to be a magical girl, and she can't help but feel a bit defensive, even if she knows Mamoru wouldn't bring someone here who was a threat to her.
Makoto, meanwhile, hangs back a little, because she is the stranger here. When Kyouko looks toward her, she smiles and lifts a hand in a casually friendly sort of greeting.
"Hi," she says. "Mamoru-san told me a friend of his works here; nice to meet you." A beat, then Mako tacks on by way of introduction: "Makoto Kino. And you're Kyouko-chan, right?"
"Aa! I always forget to do introductions /first/," Mamoru says, lightly thudding the heel of his hand against his temple. "Yeah, uh. Makoto Kino, Kyouko Sakura; likewise et cetera et cetera. Anyway we came to buy mocha and unhealthy snacks and probably also candy and weird toys that hang off the ends of aisles."
The older boy pauses, glancing uncertainly at Kyouko. "You do have those, right?"
He leans slightly closer to Makoto and asks her sidelong, "Is it me or do pencils with inexplicable propellers and tiny plastic ducks that light up and quack when you squish them seem very Usagi-chan?"
Kyouko is behind the counter, since I did not mention that last time. She leans on it on her elbows, her grin restored to its former one-fanged glory as she nods her head, causing her long red ponytail to bob behind her. "That's me, the one and only Kyouko-chan." She says, a hint of wryness in her voice, but the smile she gives to the new acquaintance is friendly enough. If this chick is with Mamoru, she's probably alright (despite the fact that sometimes Miss White is also with Mamoru and she definitely is not alright- Kyou-chan is willing to give the benefit of the doubt).
"If it's unhealthy, we definitely have it." She says, smirking to Mamoru. "Similarly, if it's cheap, tawdry, or possibly counterfeit." She glances around. "The owner isn't around right? Whew.. no, I'm joking, but yes, there are weird toys. Also dirty magazines, but I'll have to see your ID if you try to buy one of those." She gives a mock-stern look. "I know how you teenage boys can be." She puts on her best 'concerned adult' voice, despite being several years Mamoru's junior.
The look that Mako turns sidelong towards Mamoru is a mixture of amusement and vague suspicion, like she's wondering how seriously she's really supposed to be taking him right now. It turns into a widening grin when Kyouko makes that dig about adult magazines, though. "You should also know that it would be my responsibility to tell Usagi-chan if you were buying anything suspect," she informs him, planting her hand against her hip.
Not that she can keep this up for very long. Soon enough, Mako laughs and drops the manufactured air of moral superiority. "She'd probably love ducks that quack when you squash them," she agrees, then looks toward Kyouko. "So is the mocha machine self-serve, or do we order with you?"
It's hard to read him, always, unless he's being horribly, heartbreakingly serious: it's one of his faults, probably some issue with his upbringing, something that makes him hide. Maybe it's who he is interfering with who he was -- but he's told Makoto so earnestly, so sadly, that he doesn't know who he is at all.
Right now he's Mamoru Chiba, popular high-schooler who's somehow friends with so many magical girls, who has secrets most people have no idea about, who most people see as friendly but aloof, sharp when crossed, overachieving always.
Right now he's de-fanging himself for both of them. Making himself harmless, an easy target. Maybe to give them a point to be friendly over, at ease with each other over.
Either way he's blushing fiercely and holding his hands up, shaking his head emphatically. "Kyou-chan! I don't have anything to do with that!" And so aggrieved, the look he gives Makoto. "OF COURSE. Because I'd have to BE like that first--"
It's exaggerated, the huff he's in for a moment afterwards, lingering a second longer than Makoto's laugh-- but then his eyes crinkle around the edges, and he gives them both a look that tries to be imperious but fails utterly.
Like a cat, he immediately ignores his failure and moves off to the aisle end-displays, looking at crappy bootleg toys for the duck he described. It's got to be there. He saw it at another conbenie a month ago. (He also pauses to get a basket so he can start dumping unhealthy things into it.)
Kyouko snorts, a sound of amusement, from behind the counter, giving Makoto a respectful look as she jumps onto the 'bust Mamo's chops' wagon. Maybe this is someone she can get along with, after all. At the question about mocha, and whether its self-serve, she smirks slightly. "I can get it for you, but then I'd expect a tip." SHe jerks a thumb towards the side of the store, where the machine sits beside stacks of cups. "You get it yourself. Don't worry, there's pictures. Only took me a week to figure out how it works."
Then she transfers that smirk to Mamoru. "Uh huh. Honestly, kid your age, that's a more suspicious claim than not." She grins, then she sighs, relaxing against the counter and watching as he grabs a basket. "Lemme know if I can help you find anything. I know this place better than the back of my own hand by now."
"Yes, yes." Mamoru's reaction just makes Makoto laugh more, shaking her head before she sketches a quick, cheerful salute in acknowledgement of Kyouko's explanation. "Got it!" she says. "I'll try my luck then."
She raises her voice as she starts toward the machine, words carrying across the aisles. "Mamoru-san! If I can figure out how it works, want me to make one for you, too?"
"Yes, please!" Mamoru calls back over to Makoto cheerfully, throwing more terrible things and an unholy amount of chocolate into the basket.
It's probably about ten minutes later that Kyouko's rung them up and what might be a distressing amount of money for empty calories and easily-broken tchotchke has exchanged hands, and Mamoru's waved to Kyouko, and they're out the door and headed back up the sidewalk.
"So anyway, I also wanted to catch you up on things. You know that other princess that's been wandering around with her guardians draining magic from people and being upset about it?" Mamoru starts, sipping his mocha appraisingly.
A lot of Makoto's good humor evaporates at the topic that Mamoru brings up. Grimacing at the unpleasant memory, she takes a sip of her mocha as though to get a bad taste out of her mouth.
When she answers a moment later, her voice is heavy. "Yeah," she says. "She and her guardians came after us once. I haven't run into any of them since then, but I remember."
"Damn it! I knew about that and lost track of it, it's been so long," Mamoru says, shaking his head and looking like he feels stupid; he lifts a hand to rub at his eye and the bag crinkles from where it's hanging off his elbow. "Sorry. It's been a really wild few months."
He sips his mocha again then exhales through his teeth, gathering his thoughts. "At any rate, I have been keeping track of what they're doing, and I've been trying to convince them to open up about what the actual problem is so I can get them help, instead of keeping on doing what they're doing. Last week, one of them did the one thing they all promised never to do, which is hurt one of the Puella Magi -- they have a really severe limit on their magic, and they actually literally die if it gets taken from them. It doesn't regenerate. Since that promise was a promise, and the one thing I've been able to establish is that even if deals fall through with them promises don't, this was a really big issue."
He's seriously just casually talking about this. This is stuff that has nothing to do with the Princess, nothing to do with true dreams or the Silver Crystal or their mission -- but it's something that seriously impacts the health of the community, of the planet; it's something that is a general concern that not a lot of people know much about.
And he's just casually giving Makoto background. Filling her in.
"Things went badly wrong, but the girl he attacked will live -- thanks in no small part to their princess showing up and trying to give all her magic, all her energy back. The guy who did it came to, utterly shocked out of his mind, not having remembered any of it but seeing the evidence in front of him. Before you say that's an easy out, his erratic behavior before that was consistent with mind control," Mamoru says with a sidelong glance at Makoto. "And then..."
The older boy's mouth thins, and he looks away. "A couple of days ago, they came to talk to me. This girl runs scared anyway, because she knows what she's doing is wrong but she's convinced she has no choice -- but she was absolutely terrified, and that guardian was depressed out of his mind. And they explained what happened, and they gave me the cause. And now I've got to get rid of an alien weapon that mind-controls the user. Akemi-san is going to help me try to blow it up, but if that doesn't work, I need to find some other way to deal with it that keeps it out of use."
As one might expect, Makoto keeps quiet and listens as Mamoru explains what's been going on. Her frown grows deeper as he lays out the whole situation, going from disgruntlement to worry as he gets to the most immediate issue at hand.
"How do you even--?" she begins, only to stop herself with a quick shake of her head. Now is not the time to ask how Mamoru ends up in these situations. "Geez, Mamoru-san."
She breathes, tries to organize her thoughts a little. Mind-controlling alien weapon. Super. "I don't know if I can be any help except if it comes to trying to smash the thing. You should ask Mercury to do an analysis before you try to destroy it, she might have an idea about how to do it safely."
She's stopped, watching him with direct, serious focus. "All of this sounds awfully risky, you know. What are you going to do if you end up too hurt to be any help by the time we find the princess?"
"I think Mercury is mad at me," Mamoru admits a little sheepishly after a second, falling a couple of steps away from Makoto then lazily turning around and coming to a stop, mocha in hand, glasses hooked on the collar of his t-shirt. "Back at that WPS Charity gala she asked me to go with her. I thought for investigation, and I think she thought it was a date. Which, if it was, I ditched her once we were inside."
He rolls a shoulder, looking away uncomfortably, then sips his mocha again. "I think if Akemi-san can't just blow it up with explosives, magic attacks might do it." Finally he purses his lips and looks at the ground, shifting his weight. "By the time the explosives go off we'll be behind a blast shield, jeez. Besides, if something else gets me hurt-- well, you'd all be better at helping her than me. I don't even know why she--"
He cuts himself off abruptly and laughs, and it's an airy, shallow sound, without any heart or depth to it. "I'm no better at finding her than you are. And once she's found, and her crystal is found, you'll all be fine."
As he explains about Sailor Mercury and the incident at the gala, Makoto's eyes widen. "Oh, geez. I kind of wondered if she might have a crush on you, but..."
Trailing off, she sighs heavily. "Awkward. Okay, got it. Still--"
Whatever else she was going to say breaks off in a rush of sudden exasperation when Mamoru laughs that airy, empty laugh. She strides toward him, closing the space between them with collected, deliberate steps - and when she reaches him, she raises her hand and taps him lightly on the side of his head with the back of her knuckles, against his hair. Thump. "Don't be ridiculous, Mamoru-san," Makoto tells him sternly. Really sternly, not mock-sternly; she's almost-not-quite actually angry about this. "She's been waiting for you for so long, you don't think she'd be sad if something happened to you? Don't ever think like that again."
He's not sure what she's up to; she doesn't quite telegraph her contact enough for him to fully parse it before her hand is coming up lightning quick. He flinches away, but it's not fast enough to prevent her from touching him and all he can do is try to gather his wits and concentrate enough to slam down his walls. By then it's already over.
he sees
she's younger: she's shorter, her perspective is closer to the ground. an adult has dropped her off in front of a gate, that knowledge is there, and she's drowning in grief as she goes through it. she walks up a neatly paved path, with headstones all around, and approaches a
she sees
single headstone with two names etched into it. a child's small hands, cuffs of a little suit jacket ending just above them, lay a thornless rose of exquisite beauty on the new grass in front of it. he feels nothing but lost and alone, emptiness instead of the
he sees
loss that chokes her, anger that such a thing could happen. she tastes salt and wonders, vaguely, if she'll ever stop crying.
she sees
he wonders who they were, and knows he should cry, but he's just so empty. the surname is Chiba.
the surname is Kino.
Mamoru's backpedaled a few paces again, and he's staring at Makoto and shaking his head as if to clear it, as if trying to get what she said to make sense. Words eventually come back to him. "I'll try not to," he says faintly. "Not to think like that. But we all do what we can, don't we? I'm sorry. I should have warned you. Did I warn you? About surprising me..."
Makoto has snatched back her hand to clutch to her chest, the only thing that's keeping it from trembling. She stares back at him, wide-eyed and shaken, the color drained from her face.
"I'm sorry," she blurts out, slightly breathless. "You might've, but I wasn't--" her voice hitches, the words tumble one over the other in her haste to get them out, "--I wasn't thinking. I'm really sorry, Mamoru-san. I didn't mean to."
He doesn't LIKE it, obviously; he'll never be comfortable with being out of control of any part of himself-- but he's at least used to it. It's a shock, but it's not a devastating one. Mamoru's not pale, just scattered.
It takes him a moment to fully focus on Makoto, and when he does, he looks much sorrier. "No-- it's okay. It's all right. Hey--"
He switches his mocha to the hand with the plastic bag over the elbow, face growing more worried, more present with every second that passes, and he takes a step closer again, reaching to put a hand on her shoulder. It's warm through the cloth, and nothing happens except that he's concerned and apologetic and compassionate. "Hey. I don't know what you saw, I'm sorry if it sucked. My head is full of things and I don't even know what half of them are, apparently. But-- we're the same, I think. I didn't mean to see anything of yours, either, but-- I think we're the same."
She flinches, or begins to flinch, when his hand comes down on her shoulder, but nothing happens and the momentary jerk of tension relaxes away. It helps, the supportive contact.
'I think we're the same,' he says, and there are things that could mean, but after what she just saw there's only one possibility that Makoto's thoughts can leap to. She looks up to meet his eyes, brows drawn together, uncertain but quietly sympathetic. "...your parents?" she asks - not really a question, just making sure.
The older boy just nods, because there's not much he can say more than what he already has. Then he leans and awkwardly side-hugs her shoulders with one arm, and he's still not sure what to say, so he gives her an uncertain smile as he draws away.
After that moment of connection, he's suddenly at a loss. She's not like anyone who was in the children's home with him, and he's already actually friends with her-- he's adrift, not sure how to proceed. But 'forward' sounds good, so he starts walking again, glancing to one side at her to see if she's still coming along, too.
"If you ever want," he offers, finally, squinting ahead down the street, "to talk about any of it, you can talk to me. But it's also fine if you don't. And-- I'm pretty careful, but I'll be more careful, okay?"
Now his smile's wry.
Makoto leans into that awkward side-hug, a little, until he pulls away again and she kind of gives herself a little shake and stands up straight. When he starts walking again, she starts walking too. When he glances aside, he'll find her keeping pace with him, steady again, if still a bit subdued.
"...Thanks," she says, with an uncertain smile of her own. "Right now I'm not really sure what I'd say, but... I appreciate it." She's not saying it to be polite. The gratitude in her voice, her expression is genuine and earnest. "And - same goes. If you want, I mean."
Making a rueful face now, she reaches up to rub at the back of her neck. "I really can't remember if you warned me before or not," she admits, "but I'm pretty sure I won't forget again. I'll be more careful, too."
"Haha! I meant-- about doing risky things," Mamoru clarifies, his grin for real now, the laughter actually amused. "But yeah, I-- thanks. I didn't used to have to worry about it that much."
Obviously having friends changes things.
"I'd like to get it under control, but eleven years of practice and concentration haven't done the trick and it's not like I know anyone who could teach me," he says wryly, then finishes off his mocha and proves he's not entirely a hipster because he throws the cup out in the nearest bin. "So-- yeah. I'll definitely ask for help if explosives don't kill it. And oh, um."
Now he's blushing and looking away and trying to look casually stoic. "Someone gave me a stupid anime and I was wondering if you and Rei and Usagi and Ami would want to come over. Like. A, um. A party. Thing. To watch it."
Most of the lingering awkward goes out of the window at this point, because Makoto is blinking at Mamoru like he's just said something completely unexpected. Because he did.
Bwuh?
It takes her a second to parse what he's asking, and then Mako cracks a smile. "...Sure," she says, "why not? Are you going to ask the others, or do you want me to?"
"I--" starts Mamoru, then cough-laughs, turning away. "It would be-- really great if you asked them. I could? But then if I asked Ami-chan she might get, uh. The wrong idea? And if I ONLY didn't ask Ami-chan, that would probably be hurtful."
He looks about a thousand percent nerd right now. Nothing like a prince, nothing like the mysterious hot cool older boy so many see him as, nothing like the overachiever and the aloof popular kid. Just wow awkward. "I mean. I would really appreciate that."
What else can Makoto do but smile, warm with wry affection? It is a smile that says, clearly but fondly, 'you nerd.' "Sure," she says with the decisive aplomb of a decision made. "No problem. I'll let you know once I've had a chance to talk to everybody."
Mamoru Chiba is the Dork Knight, that's all there is to it. He gives her a rueful smile in return, some of the sudden tension bleeding out of his shoulders. "Thanks, Mako-chan. You are seriously the best."
Then he glances up at the intersection they've come to, and he considers. "You want a ride home or are you good?"
When he asks, Mako looks up as well, taking a moment to get her bearings. "I'm good," she decides after a moment of thought. "It's close enough from here, there's no need to go out of your way. Anyway," she adds cheerily, raising the cup that contains what's left of her mocha, "I should walk off the rest of this."
"Okay," says Mamoru with almost equal cheer-- if it were as much cheer as Makoto Kino people would probably be wondering if he either found the Princess or kissed Usagi or something-- and lifts his plastic bag of loot in a return salute. "And let me know if everyone likes pizza or curry better. Ja ne, Mako-chan."
With that, he turns down the sidewalk instead of crossing the street, a spring in his step that wasn't there before.