Author:
Anyone who might be reading my Escaflowne story thing, don't worry, I'm not dropping it for this. The next chapter is called Follow Me, and it's almost ready. Yay.
And dear reader, please forgive any Time-Traveller-Wife-familiar details of this story. I didn't mean it, honest. I wrote this BEFORE watching the first 15mins of that new hollywood-movie-based-on-book-thing with eric bana and the girl from the notebook. Never read the book, and I stopped watching the movie when it started sounding a lot like this story I just wrote, and I want the rest of this fic to be as totally original as possible.
:D… I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.
_____________________________________________________________________________
Part One
"I won't be long."
.
.
.
•
.
.
.
"Aw, man!!! How the hell did you catch that??!?!" cried the girl with the baseball bat. "Aaaann, Kosuke…!" she whined from home plate. "You fruitcake."
The baseball bat was rejected as she shoved her glove back on and tromped out to the field again. The only thing feminine about Makoto today was the graceful shape of her body. Without it, any passing stranger would take her for a boy.
Somehow, when those other girls were around – Kaho and her bodyguards – prancing around and stumbling over their feet in the girliest way possible, Makoto felt herself involuntarily rebel against female nature.
Never was that much of a delicate flower, but I really had to lose the "girly throws" and stuff to compete with the guys. So I guess I can thank Kosuke and–…
…and…
That dangerous and elusive orange-haired idiot who wasn't around anymore. Not since about four weeks ago.
.
.
.
•
.
.
.
"See ya…"
Chiaki retreated with a wave.
"SEE YA!!!" came the growl on the edge of a sob, as Makoto turned her back to him.
And then… he was gone.
"I—" she whimpered. "I don't get it…!"
It felt like an age an a half that Makoto stood there, wailing with all the slaughtered hopes he'd crushed inside her. It was making her feel so sick she thought she might crumple up and die.
Until a hand on her shoulder and a breath in her ear told her everything. And she already knew it. But she needed to hear anyway… to remind her again how he really did feel.
And he pulled her so close… so close. She shivered.
"I'll be waiting for you…"
Elated, and at the same time still heartbroken, Makoto suddenly believed nothing could stand between them – she would make it back to him. Whatever it took. Whatever the cost.
And she believed it with the kind of intensity that makes you feel completely invincible. The kind of intensity that flows into you when someone looks at you with perfect confidence and wisdom that says everything will be fine.
The kind of intensity that makes you actually forget logic. The kind of intensity that wears off in a few minutes.
And that's why Makoto eventually came to her senses, and ended up sobbing her body to sleep that evening, wondering how the hell that idiot could be so stupid as to tell her he'd be waiting in his future.
"GAAAaaaahhhaaahh!!! DAMMIT CHIAKI!!" she roared into her pillow. "'I'll be waiting for you…'?! What the hell does that mean?! What WAS that?!" she groaned.
She rolled over and started grumbling. "Stupid… goddamn… cryptic… useless. . . . . . . LAME-ASS last words!!!!!"
Her face twisted with dismal contempt.
"Jerk."
.
.
.
•
.
.
.
Makoto's frustrated self-pity didn't last much longer. That night Chiaki came creeping into her dreams. It was kind of fuzzy, and totally convoluted, as dreams often are. But it felt real. As dreams usually do. When she woke up, she couldn't remember what it was about — though her left arm was aching and her dry mouth suddenly craved watermelon. But as she rubbed her eyes and yawned, she caught one last thing before it sank away. One thing he said.
"Don't worry, stupid. I'll show you what to do."
She furrowed her brows and absently managed to pull her pyjama shirt off and then feel around in her drawer for a bra.
… eh…? …show me what to do…?
How could she know whether this was just something her subconscious mind whipped up simply to toy with her – make her think she'd figure out how to jump to the future, when there was obviously no way at all? But still, there was that pleasant, warm aftertaste of how… comforting it felt when he said that.
"Mmm…" Makoto grinned sleepily, and stretched her arms up.
Now… somehow… I feel confident. In fact… I think I almost… trust him. Let's hope this time it doesn't wear off so fast.
.
.
.
•
.
.
.
It wasn't until she was home from school, and finished dinner, and cleaning up the table that something else from her dream that night was coaxed out from her subconscious.
It was the cupboard. And the chopsticks. She was putting the chopsticks in the cupboard — and then she was back in her dream.
"Why do you keep them in the cupboard?"
It was his voice.
"Huh…?"
"Why do you put the chopsticks in there? Why don't you put them in the old closet cabinet?"
Makoto blinked. Her mouth was hanging open. She put the chopsticks down and shook her head to get rid of the weirdness. She put on her signature confused-surprised-perplexed-annoyed face, and just glared at the chopsticks.
"What the… this doesn't even make any sense."
The old closet was a tiny room full of junk in the back of her house. The stuff in there wasn't useful enough to get used, but still too important to throw out.
She forced the door to slide open. Ancient dust and other prehistoric, unidentifiable filth billowed into the air.
"Ack! Cough cough… Ughh… ewwww…"
Squeezing her body through to the back wall, and very carefully relocating a tower of books, only to have them avalanche down onto the floor anyway… Makoto uncovered the cabinet.
"Why? Why did he…? How does Chiaki even know about this thing?" she wondered, trying to unhook the cabinet's latch. "Mmmmn… Wait… it was my dream. Real people can't talk to you in a dream. You just… ghh… stupid latch… You just make it all up. So what am I doing h— AHA! Got it!"
The little wooden door swung open with a violent jolt. Some random pieces of stuff fell out onto the floor and she coughed again. Old fabric, photos, documents… and…
No.
…and something else…
No way…
Makoto fell to her knees and her mind reeled into her memory.
Oh my god… Chiaki…
.
.
.
•
.
.
.
"Hey kid," came a stranger's voice behind her. "Do you like pudding?"
The short little girl was leaning over a stone railing at the edge of a courtyard to look at the fish in the pond below. Makoto was waiting for her dad, who was inside the art college, looking for her aunt, because her mother was ill and they needed someone to look after her baby sister tomorrow. But Auntie didn't have a phone, so they had to go find her at college everytime they needed her.
At the word 'pudding', Makoto spun around and snapped her head up with delight.
"Yes!"
People were walking around her everywhere, but a strange, middle-aged man was standing two feet away. "Here," he said. "I bought this for my daughter, but she didn't want it."
He leaned forward and held the little cup of pudding infront of the little girl, and in his other hand he held a tiny plastic spoon.
"Here ya go," he whispered, with a sly grin. "Better eat it now before your dad gets back."
"Okay…" she said, eyes sparkling. "Thank you, mister."
"You're welcome," he said, and walked away.
Makoto looked at the cup in her hands for a few moments. "Uwaahh! Pudding…!" she mumbled childishly as she peeled off the lid and scooped the spoon in.
"OY! WAIT!!"
Makoto couldn't hear the yell, because it wasn't a voice she recognized, so the little girl didn't know the warning was for her. She lifted the spoon to her mouth.
"MAKOTO!!"
The little girl froze and her head shot up.
"Eh?"
In that second, a rushing adult swooped down and snatched the cup from her hand.
"Aah! HEY!!" she cried, and looked up to lash out at the thief. He was just a guy. A really tall guy, but everyone seems really tall when you're that little.
A really tall guy with orange hair. He dropped to his knees and knelt in front of her.
"Did you eat any?!" he demanded.
"Give it BACK!" she screeched. "It's mine!" Makoto swung her arms forward to try to grab it away from him. He dodged her efforts.
"Dammit Makoto," he was growling. "You can't make it so easy for them. They almost got you. Again."
She didn't understand anything he was saying. "Give me my pudding back…!" she moaned.
He flicked his wrist and dumped it on the ground.
"AAH!! Y—… you jerk!!" she wailed. "WHY did you DO that?!!"
"Because, Makoto," he said sternly, still crouching in front of her, and now blocking the thrusts of her fists as she tried to hit him.
"It's poison."
She stopped and blinked. "Wh- wha…" Makoto looked at the stranger through angry, confused tears.
"That bastard…" he grumbled, not noticing how she didn't understand the word. "That bastard wants to kill you, okay? Didn't your parents tell you not to eat stuff from weird people?"
The little girl might have gotten over her anger and started to listen at this point, if she had been older. But she wasn't. And she didn't.
"Wh— who are you?! Why did you take my pudding!!"
"I just told you," he said gently, starting to chuckle at her child-like version of that familiar stubborness he remembered so well. "Because it's poisoned."
"What?! That's stupid," she whined. "And how do you know?!"
"I know because…" he said, leaning closer to her with a mischievous smirk.
"Because, I'm Chiaki," said the stranger, looking at her playfully. "And…" he added, with a dramatic pause, "…because I'm an angel."
Makoto crinkled her eyebrows. "Eh…? …'angeru'?" she repeated in her strong childhood accent. "What's that?"
Chiaki remembered this was 1994, and she was only six, and it was very possible she hardly knew any English, let alone terms from Western mythology.
"Ano… it's a guardian spirit," he translated. "It means I came here to protect you."
By now, Makoto had forgotten most of her rage, and was now just skeptical, and slightly weirded out. "A guardian spirit…?"
"Yep, that's me."
Makoto twisted her mouth and nose into a funny face. "No, you're not."
"It's true. I swear."
"No… You're lying," she said with the angry smile of a kid who thinks that someone's playing a trick on them. "Liar."
"I'm not lying."
"Yes you are!"
"No I'm not," he smirked, mocking her.
"Yes you aaaaarrrrrre!!!"
"Noo, I'm nnnnnottt."
Makoto scrunched her face up even more. "Fine," she challenged, with her hands on her hips. "Prove it."
"Hmm. Don't believe me, eh?" said Chiaki, pretending to think about it for a second. He already knew what to say. He'd watched enough movies and stuff to know the easiest way to convince someone you're magic.
"Okay, I can prove it to you…" he said, and then looked over his shoulder once before leaning closer and whispering in her ear.
"I can make myself invisible."
The little girl's eyes lit up with something like wonder, but right away she dissolved into angry disbelief again.
"So what! So can my aunt! She says 'Close your eyes Mako, and I'll disappear!' And then I close my eyes for five seconds like she says, and open them and POOF she's gone," she said with a dramatic wave of her hands. "But I know how she does it," she boasted. "She really just walks away all quiet while I can't see. That's not magic," she said. "Nice try, Liar."
"Hmm…" grinned Chiaki. "You think you're pretty smart, eh?"
"That's right!" she said, sticking up her chin.
"Well…" he said, still grinning. "Then what if I let you keep your eyes open when I do it?"
Makoto blinked with a blank face. "Eh…? R-…Really?"
"Sure. That way you can see me disappear, and I can't cheat. Then would you believe me?"
The six year old looked at the stranger with a puzzled face for a couple seconds. Eventually she nodded.
"Okay good," he said. "But there's one rule."
"What?"
"If you're wrong, and I'm not a liar, and I really can disappear…" he said carefully, looking straight at her. "Then you have to do something for me."
Makoto blinked for a second, and then gave him the evil eye.
"No…" she pouted. "You—… you're gonna make me do something nasty…"
Chiaki smothered his laugh and tried to look serious. "No I promise…" he said, amazed that she already seemed to know him so well. "All you have to do is keep something safe for me, okay?"
"What is it?"
He reached into his back pocket. "Here… Hold out your hands."
Shyly, Makoto put out her little hands, and Chiaki held them both in one of his. Putting something tiny inside them, he clamped her hands together before she could see what it was.
"The deal is, if I disappear, you have to keep this safe for me. Put it in a secret place and don't lose it or give it to anyone. Forever. Okay?"
"Why? What is it?!"
"You'll see."
"No! I wanna know what it is!" she protested, and pulled her hands out of his to look at it.
It was a little copper key.
"It's just a key??" she said, clearly disappointed. "It's not like a magic stone or a golden ring or something?"
Chiaki chuckled. "You won't be getting a gold ring for a few years yet Mako."
"Eh?"
"Just promise you'll keep it."
"But why? If it's so important, why don't you keep it?" she said, trying to give the little key back to him.
"Because…" he said, rubbing his temple and realizing that if she was already this difficult at six, that would explain a lot.
"Because," he said quietly, looking straight into her eyes. "Because it's for you. Because someday you're going to find a secret box, and you need the key to open it."
"Really?? What's inside the box?"
"I dunno," he lied.
"Why not?"
He shrugged. "Cause it's a secret box."
The little girl seemed satisfied with that. She looked at the key in her hands again.
"You have to promise, alright?" Chiaki whispered.
"Kay. I promise."
And that's when he reached over and ruffled her hair.
"That's my girl," he said softly.
And then he was gone.
.
.
.
•
.
.
.
Chiaki…
Makoto shuddered. She was dazed.
Oh Chiaki… it was… that was you.
She couldn't move. For those long seconds Makoto just knelt on the floor, staring blankly at the strange object before her.
A little copper box with a key hole.
Silence. A rogue breeze rattled the doorframes. Finally, Makoto took a deep breath, as if waking from a coma.
"Right!" she announced with determination, plucking the copper box up into her hands.
"This is a sign. A present! From Chiaki. He said he'd show me what to do! I bet there's one of those walnut things inside here! I might be minutes away from…"
Her heart tripped inside her and rolled around with anticipation. I could be minutes from seeing him again.
"I just need…"
Chiaki…
"I just need to—… I just need to… to… um…"
In a short moment, Makoto's eyes flickered from 'yay-this-is-awesome' to 'crap-I-am-screwed'.
"Dammit… Where the hell did I put that key?"
.
.
.
•
.
.
.
In a flurry of dust and odor, Makoto scrambled out of the back closet. The next part of her evening was spent hustling around her room, rummaging through everything she owned and turning the whole place upside down. All the while, countless questions trotted through her head, but most of them didn't register past the main thing on her mind.
"I can't BELIEVE that conceited freak had the nerve to call himself an angel," she muttered, tossing underwear out of her drawer.
Her fuming rage was decorated by the memories that followed. Memories of her six-year-old self going home with the brightest smile on her face, and asking her parents to tell her exactly what an 'angeru' was. And how she'd scribbled pictures at school of a tall orange-haired stick figure with wings holding her hand, and wrote 'My Angel' in big crayon letters.
"When I finally find that stupid moron…" she seethed with affectionate loathing.
"I am sure as hell going to kick his ass."
.
.
.
_____________________________________________________________________________
(story continues… with Part 2…)
•
.
.
.
Random notes:
I made this because I'm slightly sick of the anime tradition of endings that purposely break your heart, leaving you bitterly unsatisfied just to teach you a lesson about life. GAH. :P It's fucked up. I swear the biggest crime is to make an incredible story and introduce you to these awesome characters and make you fall in love with them, then turn around and murder them with one terrible ending.
If, writers of Girl Who Leapt.. if you designed the end specifically to spawn an army of fanfictions, and a massive, hungry fanbase.. then congratulations, it worked. I will still never forgive you for how you ended your story. But thanks for making the first 90% of it anyway.
Fellow fans out there, I love you all, and a comment from you would make my day. Then you'd even get to press that gorgeous green review button… which is somewhere down here, I think…
"I won't be long…"