Note: This story follows the characterizations and general plot of Awakening. However, it stands alone and is not meant to be part of the story, but is simply an extra, alternate-plot scene I felt like writing. It happens while the Heavenly Kings are in Tokyo, searching for Endymion.
The drumming rain reminds him of home.
Water throbs and pounds against the taut fabric of his umbrella, and for a moment he closes his eyes and thinks of a drum circle. He sees himself holding a drumstick, tapping the thin leather skin, faster and faster, as the men around him raise their voices and begin to chant.
It's been so long.
By habit, Menewa checks the puddles for water spirits. Tie-snakes are treacherous creatures. He'd rather not step in the wrong puddle; it could be deeper than it seems. Appearances can be deceiving, or so his grandfather used to say, when he'd fill his grandson's head with strange folklore.
He chuckles and walks on, until he finds a café. He doesn't know what it's called, because the Japanese characters on the door won't reveal their secrets to him. No matter. He closes his umbrella and gives it a solid shake, then he grabs the door handle and steps inside.
Now he takes in the smell of burnt coffee beans, and glances up at the menu above the counter. He still can't read much of it, so he hangs his umbrella and his coat, then places his hands on his narrow waist and gives an amused sigh. As he waits in line to be served, he takes a look around him. A more attentive glance than the quick one he gave when he arrived.
Impossible to tell if the theme of the decor is Zen or Victorian. A framed black cameo silhouette hangs on the wall that faces the entrance, and underneath, there's a purple baroque table with a white buddha sitting right in the middle of it. The tables and chairs are all very modern, but the porcelain plates and tea cups are ornate and covered in flowers.
Menewa examines everything and eventually notices a girl, sitting alone at a table. She's got light brown hair, wavy, and she's wearing a school uniform with a beige skirt.
More importantly, she's crying.
He can tell that she means to conceal her tears. She wipes them rapidly, tries to hold them back, to remain as quiet as she can. But her fingers are trembling.
Someone suddenly asks a question Menewa has no chance of understanding.
With a start, he turns around and sees that the clerk is waiting for him to order. She's got a lavender apron, and a lovely figure.
"I'm sorry, I don't speak Japanese."
"What will you have?" she kindly replies, and he feels relieved.
"I'd like a mocha, if that's possible."
"Sure."
He eyes a pastry behind the glass counter.
"Oh, and… Is that thing any good? What is it?"
"That's a taro bun. Very delicious."
"I'll take two."
Then a sandwich stands out to him.
"And is that a tuna sandwich?" he inquires.
"Yes."
"I'll have that, too. No, wait —"
He points at another sandwich.
"Is that, like, a grilled cheese?"
"It's… a cheese sandwich. Do you want that instead?"
"Nah. I'll have both."
But there's some really colourful rice cakes, too.
"Are those mochi?" he asks the clerk.
"Yes."
"I'll have three of 'em."
The clerk covers her mouth with her hand and giggles, but is too shy to comment on her client's choices. Menewa steals a glance from her, and purposefully makes her blush. He grins and pushes his long hair back behind his shoulder.
"Thank you, darling."
As the girl in the lavender apron prepares his coffee and puts everything on a tray, Menewa can't help but look at the brunette again. He catches her using her handkerchief, and it dampens his spirits to see that she's still crying.
So he pays and grabs his tray when it's ready, and heads straight for her table.
The girl doesn't even notice him, standing there before her. She's lost in her thoughts.
"Mind if I sit here?" Menewa asks, and she momentarily glances up, but without really looking.
She nods indifferently, not bothered, but not quite sure why a total stranger wants to sit at her table.
"Thanks," he says as he puts his tray down and turns his cup around, to bring the handle on the right side.
She stares blankly at her own cup, which she hasn't even touched.
Menewa leans forward, hands resting on his thighs.
"Look up at me for a second?"
Intrigued, she complies. He gives her a warm smile, and says nothing. She raises an eyebrow.
"What… What is it?" she inquires.
He has finally come into focus. The handsome man sitting opposite to her. His dense mane, dark eyebrows and vivid eyes. She finds herself admiring his face, its unusual features she can't quite place.
"You seemed in need of a smile," he explains. "So I'm offering you mine, even though it would be better if you had your own."
This remark unexpectedly makes her smile.
"Ah, you do have one," he says. "And it's a lot prettier than mine. I'm glad you found it again."
Blushing slightly, she lowers her eyes and notices Menewa's tray.
"That's a lot of food you've got there," she remarks.
"Just felt like having a little snack. Maybe I went a bit overboard with the mochi."
"Are you really going to eat all that?"
He waves his hand dismissively.
"It's no problem. I'm a big eater. Plus, I like to try everything, especially when I'm visiting a new place. I want to get the full 'culinary' experience."
"Where are you from?"
"New York City."
Her face lights up.
"New York?"
"It's pretty cool. Though Tokyo's not bad either. From what I've seen so far, it's very modern."
"Are you an exchange student?"
"Me? No. I'm just here with some friends of mine. We're, uh, looking for someone. An old friend."
"Oh?"
"It's a rather complicated story," he quickly says, wondering what compelled him to be so open with her. He can almost picture Arad's disapproving glare at him going around telling people about their plans.
But Arad's not there. Thank goodness for that.
"Where are your friends?"
"They're back at the hotel. I asked them if they wanted to go for some coffee, but none of them felt like going out. Because of the rain. But I don't mind it."
"Neither do I."
Menewa gives her another smile. Then he takes a sip of his mocha and unwraps his tuna sandwich.
"So tell me, were these mochi worth getting?" he asks. "Does this place make 'em well?"
"Well enough. Though I like to put more sesame seeds on them."
"You make mochi?"
"Amongst other things. I like to bake and cook for myself, my friends… I actually spend a lot of time making food, even though it's just a hobby."
"That's really amazing. I wish I had your skills. I'm not a bad cook, but I'm rather limited. Also, I don't have any talent. Cooking is a bit of an art, I think. You gotta have a feeling for it. Without my measuring cups, I'm lost. I follow recipes like they're chemistry lab instructions. I do know how to make a couple of pretty badass Creek dishes, though."
"Creek?"
"That's a Native American nation. Creek, also known as Muskogee. I'm half Creek, half Irish-American."
"I've never met a Native American before."
"Hope I make 'em proud, representing my people in Japan."
He takes a first bite out of his sandwich, which he devours within seconds. Then he moves on to the other one.
"I know I said I'm from New York, and that is where I live right now, but I'm actually from Oklahoma. Didn't sound too impressive, though, so I saved that for later. Are you from Tokyo?"
"Yes, I am."
"I'm really glad you speak English. I kind of went out there on a limb, asking you to sit at your table."
"It was unusual, but very sweet of you."
He stares into her eyes and for a split-second, he feels as though he's stared into them before. They are of a specific kind of green, one he can't refer to by any other word than the Creek word lanē.
"Do you want a pastry or something?" he asks her, trying to shake off the odd sentiment. All the memory-hunting he's been doing with the other Heavenly Kings is beginning to get to his head.
"No thanks."
"Go on. Have one."
"All right," she replies, and takes a taro bun. "Thanks."
"You're welcome."
"What's your name?" he inquires, trying not to sound like he's flirting. He genuinely wants to know who she is.
Whose eyes are these?
"I'm Makoto Kino. Nice to meet you," she replies. "And you are?"
"Menewa Brennan."
"Menewa?"
"It means 'great warrior'."
"And are you? A great warrior, I mean?"
"I can handle myself in a fight."
"I know martial arts. I think I could easily take you on."
"I don't doubt it. Martial arts are awesome. If I learned, I could give you a run for your money."
She nods and gets started on her taro bun.
"The stone around your neck is very nice," she says at some point.
He looks down at it and half-expects to see it glowing. But it's not. Makoto admires it, or rather, admires the way it rests against his skin, near the opening of his casual plaid shirt.
"What is it?" she asks, forcing herself to stop staring at it. At him.
"A Nephrite. Let me return the compliment and tell you that I like your rose earrings."
She touches her left earring with her index finger.
If only Senpai had told her that.
"Thank you."
"Did your boyfriend give them to you?"
"No," she blushes.
There is an awkward pause. Menewa drinks some coffee and finishes his sandwich, then picks up the taro bun while Makoto finishes hers.
"Makoto?" he says at last.
She meets his gaze.
"Why were you crying, earlier?"
He doesn't excuse himself for asking her such a personal question and instead just waits for an answer.
"I… I was crying because the guy I'm in love with, is in love with someone else."
Again, that blank stare. Menewa sits still, lets her continue.
"I really love him," she continues. "And I thought he loved me, too, but I was wrong."
After a moment of reflection, he speaks.
"He wasn't the man for you," he declares with such certainty, that Makoto almost believes him.
"How would you know that?"
"Simple," Menewa answers. "I won't say that the man you're supposed to be with will never make you cry. People say that, but I don't think it's true. Love is intense, and often means pain. But I'd say that your soul mate can never be happy and content while you are crying. Your soul mate will always cry with you. Suffer with you. If he breaks your heart, he will break his own heart as well. Because soul mates are connected, tied together as by an invisible string."
She seems troubled, surprised.
"You really believe in soul mates?"
"Absolutely."
"I don't know many guys who'd say that."
"Yeah. I get teased about it by my friends. They think I'm overly romantic."
"Really?"
"But I have a hard time understanding how people can so easily deny the existence of soul mates. I don't think everyone has one, but… Just consider how so many things in this world come in two. We've got two hands, two legs, two eyes. Words have antonyms. Concepts have opposites. For love, there is hate. For happiness, there is sorrow. There is day, and there is night. There is the Earth, and the Moon. The sky, and the land. Life, and death. If so many things come in two, then why shouldn't we?"
Makoto searches his eyes, finds sincerity in them.
He really means it.
"I feel the same way," she declares.
"Then I guess we're both overly romantic, aren't we?" he laughs.
She places her hand on the edge of the table.
"I'm changing schools, you know," she suddenly reveals. "Paperwork's already done. I just can't stand being there, seeing him with someone else. It just hurts too much."
"I understand."
A hopeful glance.
"You do? You don't think I'm overreacting? That I'm being silly?"
"I would do the same thing as you. I don't think I could stand it, either. Not if I was in love with someone."
"There's another reason I'm leaving, though."
"And what is that?"
"I just feel like there's somewhere else I need to be."
Another life you are meant to live.
Menewa sits back in his chair.
"Funny you should say that. I moved to New York partly for that reason. If my family'd had their way, I'd still be down in Oklahoma. You know, having a bunch of kids and passing on the tradition. They're all happy for me, of course, all proud of the fact I'm studying Astrophysics, but at the end of the day, they'd rather just have me back home. Whenever I visit, they try to pair me up with someone. Not that I'd mind having a family and settling down, but… Well, I always felt like there was something I needed to do, above everything else. And then there's this trip…"
He is about to continue, when a Def Leppard song emerges from his pocket. His phone is ringing at an inopportune moment, as always.
"Oh, it's one of my friends I came here with… Let me get that."
Putting his phone to his ear, he tilts away slightly, to look out the window.
"Hey Arad. Uh, yeah, yeah, sure."
He checks his watch.
"I'm at a coffee shop right now. Right. Okay, well, I'll be there in a few."
After he hangs up, he gives Makoto an apologetic smile.
"Sorry about that. I'd better get going. The others need me, we've got things to do."
"I should get home as well. Didn't realize it was so late. What about your mochi, though? You haven't even started on them yet."
"I'll have that nice girl at the counter wrap them up for me. I'll donate them to those loser friends of mine who were too scared to go out in the rain."
Makoto nods, and they leave the table.
When they retrieve their umbrellas and coats, Menewa notices that Makoto's pink umbrella is damaged. The metal rod seems crooked, and the cloth's not on quite right.
"Gust of wind tore it apart?" he asks her, pointing at the disaster of an umbrella.
"Yes," she sighs.
Outside, the rain hasn't stopped. As though to confirm that the sun's not about to show, thunder rumbles and a flash of light momentarily illuminates the street.
"How are you going to get home without a proper umbrella?"
"I'll just put my schoolbag over my head," she says, shrugging. "It's alright."
"No, it's not. I'm not going to let you walk in the rain while I get back to the hotel all cozy and dry."
He opens the door and ushers her outside. Before she can say anything, he opens his umbrella and holds it above her.
How tall he is.
She is not used to having people towering over her like this.
"You really don't have to."
"I insist. I don't want to leave a bad impression. My people are counting on me."
He smirks.
"What about your friends? Aren't they waiting for you?" she asks.
"They can wait a little while longer. I like to be expected. Where shall I take you?"
"Well, I need to get to the nearest subway station. From my station on it's only a matter of seconds to get to my building."
"Alright, then. But you've got to guide me, because I have no idea where I am."
"So you chose this café on a whim?"
"Pretty much."
"It's my favourite place. A bit far, but I love coming here."
"Yeah, it's nice," he lies, still baffled by the schizophrenic decor.
They walk through the rain and Menewa receives most of it, as he keeps the umbrella above Makoto, and cares little for his own clothes and frizzling hair. Half his body is already soaked.
"So you're studying Astrophysics?" Makoto asks, looking straight ahead.
"Yeah. I'm working on my thesis."
"Sounds intimidating."
"It really isn't. My department's just a bunch of geeks who like to stare at stars."
Having him so near reminds Makoto of her walks home with Senpai. She represses a sigh, and wishes she had him by her side, instead of Menewa. It makes her feel ungrateful, but after all, she is still in love.
She glances over at Menewa and realizes how much rain he's already absorbed.
"You're drenched. You should come nearer."
Makoto takes his arm, and timidly pulls him closer to her. She blushes, and can't understand why. Menewa looks at her, focuses on her touch. How warm and familiar it seems.
But the feeling doesn't last. It is quickly forgotten, and both of them walk on in silence. They simply enjoy each other's company, until they finally reach the station.
Menewa takes a last look at those lanē eyes. He strives to remember how he felt about them earlier, when he couldn't find another word to describe their colour. But the feeling's long gone. Makoto takes a step back and thanks him, says goodbye. Then he watches on as she slips away, and becomes a stranger once again.