Makoto 11: Drowning
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Undisclosed Location; October 1st, 1994
Makoto woke up early under a blue morning sky, shivering and moaning at the violent roiling in his stomach. He pulled his hoodie close to his body. "Sick..." He mumbled, making Blavatsky bark happily and run back with a piece of driftwood, making Makoto laugh weakly. "I said sick, not stick. It'll have to do,"
Soon he had a small fire going and he shivered in spite of it. He had fallen sick three days after Yasuhiro, Leon, and Kaito had left him behind, but sick with what? Makoto couldn't tell. All he knew was that he was chilled to the bone with the worst stomach pains he had ever had in his life. Maybe food poisoning was going to be the thing that finally finished him off. It'd be just his luck. Bad stomach pains; then a day later, mild diarrhea that reeked of fish.
Makoto curiously dug his hands though his pockets and found a notebook and his old key ring. He stared at it for a time, finding it to just be a simple house key encased in plastic; Naegi 269, it read. He slipped the key out of the encasing and threw it long, watching it sail through the sky and hearing it cling quietly on some rocks far away. The last piece of identity he had was gone and would remain there until the end of time. He quickly wrote a note to Sayaka, detailing to her everything that had happened up until he broke his leg.
Even if I don't make it back, you still have to go on. You and the baby both.
He finished writing and slipped the paper into the clear plastic, gently attaching it to Blavatsky's collar. "Go on, boy. Go find me some more fish. Maybe I can make some more sushi with it,"
Once the dog ran off, Makoto took the empty bottle of tea brought to him in lieu of a stick once and filled it with gritty, muddy water from the tiny creek and drank from it, shuddering at the taste. The dirt stuck to his teeth. Still, it was better than having none, especially since his mouth was awfully dry. He quickly drained the entire bottle, then filled it again and drank it all, clutching at his stomach with a groan.
"Just my luck," He laughed at himself, placing a hand at his lower back. He sat up slightly and slumped over, dozing a bit.
That afternoon, Makoto was suddenly roused from his sleep with nothing but a feeling of surety. Whatever was meant to happen, was happening then. He glanced up at the top of the hill and grimaced, beginning to crawl anyway. Blavatsky whined, following him, likely wondering why his human was leaving behind his water and warm fire. And indeed, Makoto did have all of those things down there, and for a wild second, briefly paused in his climbing, glancing over at his makeshift camp. He shook his head and kept crawling, grunting as he tried to grab desperately at the rocks. It had rained briefly a day prior, so half of him felt like it was sinking into the softer mud.
As he climbed higher, he noticed Blavatsky panting and wiped his own forehead, trembling. Why had it suddenly gotten so hot? He reached the top and with a mighty groan, hoisted himself up and cried out in pain as he laid on the broken street, curling up and grabbing his stomach. His broken leg had begun throbbing again; red-hot, angry pain. Blavatsky was right by his side, whining and licking his face.
Makoto finally sat up, glancing to the west and suppressing a gasp. "Look at that...oh my gosh...everyone is dead...they're all dead,"
To his right, further off, the entire city of Nagasaki was brilliantly lit up with red-orange flames, almost like an early Christmas decoration. Where had the fire come from, how did it spread? Maybe it was some kind of electrical fire due to an overload or something. If Leon, Yasuhiro, and Kaito had still been walking, maybe they would've been alright, but somehow Makoto knew that in his heart he would never see them again.
He remembered his note to Sayaka and knew he'd have to continue it and let everyone know what had happened. Nagasaki was the fashionista's domain, but it was all burned down. Whatever they were doing over there proved to be too much and they destroyed themselves.
Later though. His stomach churned violently and he clutched at it with a moan, swallowing sickly. The climb had overexerted him too much, and all he wanted was to go back to sleep. So he curled up and soon fell asleep, sleeping sounder once he used the bathroom after he felt his stomach drop. In the back of his mind he kept wondering how long that fire would burn for, and if it'd spread any farther. Did he want to know? Did anyone?
Makoto woke up around evening the next day, shaking and trembling. He tried to take a breath but could only breathe shallowly. His mouth was dry and cracked. He moaned lowly and managed to sit up, swallowing sickly. Blavatsky came by with another fish in his mouth, and Makoto very slowly started a fire, nearly burning the fish when he had to crawl off and use the bathroom again. He chopped the fish up into small pieces and rolled them up, tossing a few to Blavatsky. "Sushi is on the house again," He tried to laugh, gagging instead. He slowly ate only two of his six pieces, shaking. "You can have the rest,"
Blavatsky whined.
"Go ahead...my stomach hurts too much to eat," He huddled into his jacket, trembling. His breath sounded weak and ragged.
Around eight, Blavatsky ran off and returned with one of Makoto's blankets in his mouth. He smiled and gave him a weak pat before curling up underneath it. Blavatsky slept beside him, close by to give him warmth. Makoto scooted a bit closer to the fire and began to toss and turn uneasily, moaning and groaning as his stomach flipped and roiled and tied itself into thick, painful knots in the night. He finally curled up in a half-fetal position before he was able to fully sleep.
Blavatsky whined as he watched The Man fitfully rest. He had the smell of sickness and death all over him; whenever he breathed in good air, he breathed out the scent of death. It was in the towns Blavatsky traveled through, on the fish and rabbits he caught, and on the wolves he attacked at Chiaki's place. He'd fight it off here too, except this Man had the smell inside of him.
Makoto woke up the next morning and sighed, slowly crawling out of his blanket and relieving himself, covering his face to ward off the strong fishy smell. The resulting diarrhea was painless. He shivered and looked at his hands, wincing at how wrinkled they had gotten. His tongue felt like a log in his mouth; he tried to spit but couldn't muster up the saliva needed.
Was he dying? Maybe he finally was.
He called Blavatsky over and took the note out of the plastic, adding to it what he had saw the other day. He then replaced the note and slept again.
When Makoto woke up that night, he shuddered upon seeing another fish at his feet. He trembled as he gut it and tossed it to Blavatsky, gagging sickly and quickly trying to swallow down whatever came back up. He laid back down on the ground and closed his eyes, feeling dizzy and cold.
"Is that Blavatsky? Feels like forever since we last saw each other!" A cheerful voice roused Makoto from his sleep, making him groan and slowly look over. Blavatsky barked happily and ran over to the stranger. Makoto shivered.
"Who are you?" He finally croaked out, and the figure hurried over.
"Gokuhara Gonta, that's who! Who are you?" He asked cheerfully. Makoto winced.
"Makoto...t-that's who I am..." Wasn't that who he was? His breathing became shallow again and he gagged sickly, finally gasping and feeling his eyes roll back into his head. He fainted.
When Makoto finally came to, it was the third of October, though neither him nor Gonta knew the date. Gonta had built a large fire and gently wrapped Makoto up in all of his blankets and a sleeping bag. Blavatsky laid contently by the fire.
"Gonta-san," Makoto coughed harshly from the dryness in his throat.
Gonta hurried over instantly, his dark eyes shining. His hair was neater and kept tied back behind him, and Makoto felt as though he carried himself differently than he had just five weeks ago.
"What happened to leg? Gonta broke his leg once, he did! Fell out of a tree, believe it or not! Got a cast on it and it stopped hurting," He said proudly.
"Mine...broken...I want...water..." Makoto trembled, and Gonta nodded and eagerly held out a case of water bottles. Makoto drank two and half of the third one, shivering. It was clean and cool. After he drank it, he sighed in relief. "Gonta-san...how'd you know how to find me?"
"Why, Chihiro-kun told me! He can talk in Gonta's dreams." He smiled. "He has a little girl now, did you know that? Her name is Umi-chan, isn't that funny?"
Makoto just winced. "I have more wrong with me than just my leg. I'm badly sick, Gonta-san. Diarrhea and stomach cramps. Think it might be a form of food poisoning,"
"Right! You just tell Gonta what to do! He loves to help!" He leaned in close to Makoto. He had a sudden thought that he had more sparkle in his eyes and seemed brighter. What happened to him over there? Did he know what happened to Kyoko and Kizakura? He shook his head. He could ask those questions later. His diarrhea had gotten more profuse and he was worried about dehydration.
"I need a tent, and maybe antibodies...those might be hard to find. For now, just bring me back as much water as you can find. It should be easy enough if you look in peoples' gloveboxes in their cars," He laid back down and covered his eyes with his arm.
"Right!" Gonta nodded and started to run off with Blavatsky, pausing a bit. "Dreams are funny, aren't they? Chihiro-kun can talk and tells me where to go and what to do. He even has a little girl with his eyes. But Gonta is worried. Whenever Gonta tries to ask Chihiro-kun anything about him, he just turns away from me. What happened, Makoto-san? He's alright, isn't he? And that little girl-"
Makoto just shook his head. He couldn't talk about that yet. Gonta nodded slowly and ran off, Blavatsky at his ankles. Makoto used the bathroom again and fell asleep.
"Makoto-san, wake up-!" Gonta gently woke Makoto up, who mumbled slightly and slowly opened his eyes. "Got more water. And food. Gonta's father always told him you ate even with diarrhea! And this too," He produced a bright orange sleeping bag from somewhere.
"You did good," Makoto nodded as he was helped into the sleeping bag, gasping in sudden pain. "I don't know if I can eat though,"
"Gonta will help," He insisted. "He'll find pot or something for water," He set the bottles beside Makoto, watching him down two more. He choked lightly. "Makoto-san..."
"He's dead," He looked away with a wince. "Fujisaki-san was killed nearly a month ago at this point. It was at my wedding...it was politically-minded though, so I suppose it could be ruled as an assassination," He sighed. "I'm sorry. As for that little girl...one of the other Ministers was pregnant. I think that's their child you're seeing,"
Gonta nodded and remained silent for a time as he cooked their food, a few tears falling. Once he finished, he just sniffled and looked back at Makoto. "Gonta knew, somehow. He kept running away from Gonta. But Gonta still misses him badly. He was my best friend, you know? He was. Gonta knows he will see him in the afterlife though, where he can talk and hear and Gonta can think. Isn't that nice?" His eyes were bright. "And Gonta will play all day with his daughter Umi-chan and help take care of his pretty lady,"
Makoto just nodded.
"It was the evil lady who killed Chihiro-kun. Gonta know that. But she got punished. Gonta saw that, he did! Sparks like fireworks rained down and killed her for what she did to Chihiro-kun and Kizakura-san,"
"What happened to him?" Makoto asked, curious.
"They shot him down in Saga!"
"And Kirigiri-san?"
"Gonta saw her once, changing a bulb. Doing job. But Gonta never saw her again, and he wonder; did she see him? Gonta will never know,"
The food was finally done and Gonta watered the vegetable soup down enough to make it into a thin broth, then helped Makoto sip it. Makoto managed to drink it all down along with some water, then the two fell asleep with Blavatsky inbetween them.
"Gonta-san..." Makoto choked out, his voice at a whisper. Despite the steady amount of water he was receiving, he felt like it wasn't enough; his breath was dust in his throat and his diarrhea had worsened to the point of being nearly-constant. His stomach was in a constant knot, and his legs cramped badly. "I have to get inside somewhere and get more water and have an actual bathroom," He shivered. "Otherwise, I'll die. We're going to have to drive because we're in the middle of nowhere. The nearest town is back that way,"
"Gonta can't drive!" Gonta gasped, making Makoto's eyes widen.
"I can't either..." He sighed. "Guess I'll have to do it...I took a class on it once my first year of high school," He shivered. "But first we need to make a travois, one of those things I saw in a survival show on TV once,"
Gonta nodded. "I've seen those! You cut holes in a sleeping bag for strings!" He got out a pocket knife. "No worry, Makoto-san! Gonta knows what to do!"
Makoto just leaned back and tried to relax, trembling. It'd be hard to find a car that actually worked, and barring that, it'd still need to have keys in the ignition. Surely they could find something though, right?
Gonta finished the travois and hoisted Makoto up, carrying him on his back like a baby. "Gonta can carry lots of weight! No worry!"
Makoto gagged and shivered as they headed off. He felt a strange sense of exhilaration as he watched the ditch he fell down in quickly leave his sight. He was convinced he would die there. He might still die, just not alone in a ditch with a broken leg. He dozed off, barely noticing the scent of fish coming from him.
The two traveled along for the better part of the day, finding plenty of buses but no cars. A bus would be too heavy and unstable to drive, Makoto decided.
Finally, they came across a rusty blue Toyota; a model from '82. Makoto shivered uncontrollably as Gonta gently placed him behind the wheel and Makoto looked around, cheering silently to himself when he found the keys in the ignition. It was near the top of a hill too, so if they just gave it a push and turned the engine on, it'd likely drive just fine. Blavatsky got in the back as Gonta checked the exterior of the car to make sure there weren't any flat tires or anything. Really, it was almost too good to be true.
Makoto sat stretched out with his legs in front of him, trembling with his hands on the wheel. Gonta gave the car a great push and Makoto turned the key in the ignition, hearing the car beginning to shudder to life.
"Get in!" He yelled at Gonta, who jumped into the car and closed the door at the last second as the car fell down the hill. Makoto tightened his grip on the steering wheel and swerved the car to the left, watching the speedometer. Once the car drove off the hill, it continued at a slow pace, but was steady. Both Makoto and Gonta cheered.
"Yes, it's working!" Makoto smiled to himself.
Blavatsky barked happily, thinking about how he used to take drives with his old masters, back when he had been named Takoyaki and there had been no pandemic. He decided he liked riding with these new masters of his too.
They drove for about twenty-thirty minutes, Makoto nervously swerving the wheel around and being shaky. Still, the car remained firmly on the road, and by the thirty-minute mark, Makoto's breath was coming in shallowly and his stomach churned madly.
"There. We can rest for the night in there," He pointed to a temple in the distance, turning the car off. He shivered violently, feeling wet and cold. "Thank you for helping me out like this, Gonta-san. I...really...appreciate...it..." He silenced and his eyes grew wide. Gonta stared at him, unsure, drawing back when Makoto suddenly vomited clear liquid violently. It splattered in his lap and brought tears to his eyes as he sputtered and choked. After he finished, he fell forward, passing out onto the horn.
Gonta quickly scooped Makoto up and carried him into the temple, laying him down on a kitchen table he dragged into the main room where a fireplace was. Luckily, the temple had doubled as a house at one point. He started a fire and bundled Makoto up in blankets, taking some of the heavier clothes off him. Makoto shivered and shuddered in his sleep, waking up only to vomit. Gonta found two large metal pails in a storage closet and placed one under him and the other by his head. His skin was a dangerous shade of blue and he was cold to the touch.
Gonta watched him worriedly. When Makoto woke up, he'd likely ask him what to do about the illness, but...what if he never woke up?
Blavatsky whined, and Gonta slept on a cot beside the fire. Outside, a powerful thunderstorm raged on, the winds angering the fire in Nagasaki and spreading it south where many more people would die. The lighting flashed every few seconds, charged by the electricity left behind. The wind battered at the windows. The rain was just a tiny drizzle.
