"So you're Yuki Makoto," she pointed at the blue-haired teenager whose hands were buried deep in his pockets, "you're also Yuki Makoto, but from a different dimension than the first Yuki Makoto," she pointed at the spunky girl, red hair tied in a ponytail, "and then there's Niijima Makoto," she said, turning to face the more familiar Makoto, whose expression was calculating, red eyes narrowed in concentration.
Ann threw her hands up in the air, exasperated with this whole situation. "Are there any other Makotos we should know about?