TW: Please see the end of the chapter for potential trigger warnings.
He was awoken the next morning by scratching at his door. He had no idea what time it was, but the house was quiet and the sun was low outside the window. With some reluctance, he pushed the covers off and stumbled to the door, covering a yawn as he went. He'd barely opened it an inch before a furry shadow slipped in like liquid smoke and leapt onto the bed with all the prerogative of a proprietress. The feline sniffed about for an acceptable spot, then rolled onto her back, yellow eyes blinking at him expectantly.
Her boldness made him smile, and he glanced out into the hallway before re-closing the door. Both Hallie and Stan's rooms were open, which probably explained Dizzy's hunt for a new warm body. He sat down beside her and scratched her belly obediently.
"Ohayō." Her dark fur reminded him of Luna, and that sparked a sense of comfort as well as a longing for home. For a few brief minutes, he let himself imagine what he would eventually tell Usa about this weekend. She would have enjoyed the food, the snow perhaps less so.
He considered returning to bed with a book and luxuriating in solitude for a while, but on his way back from the washroom, the siren smell of Arabica lured him downstairs. He stopped briefly to see if Dizzy would follow him, but she simply curled into a ball on the bedspread, back turned as if to say, "Your loss."
He followed his nose to the kitchen, where he found Hallie drooped over the counter on her elbows, hands wrapped around a steaming mug. A blessed full carafe was on the counter behind her.
"Good morning," she said. "Sleep well?"
"Yes. It is very quiet here."
"Right? You probably don't get that much on campus, do you?"
"No, not at all."
"Do you prefer the quiet?"
The true answer to that was more complicated than he could explain. "Sometimes."
She waited, probably assuming he had more to say, but when he didn't, she asked, "Would you like some coffee?"
He was glad for the change of subject. "Please."
She poured him a cup in a bright yellow mug—"black is fine"—then invited him to sit with her in the breakfast nook instead of "standing around like idiots." He was telling her about his application process to Harvard when Stan appeared in full winter gear.
"You hungover?" his friend asked as he went for the coffee pot.
Mamoru smiled. Thanks to his healing power and whatever being a guardian meant for his metabolism, he was rarely bothered the morning after a night of imbibing. "No. Are you?"
"Honestly, I can't tell the difference at this hour."
"It's not that early," Hallie chided, and Mamoru realized he still didn't know what time it was.
"Fucking morning people," Stan grumbled, and Mamoru's smile widened. His friend never missed a chance to curse him any time he mentioned an early class or errand.
"If you are not a morning person, why are you dressed now?"
"Gotta shovel the drive. It's mandatory labor around here. Hal, why aren't you dressed?"
"You don't want me wielding a shovel before I've had my coffee."
"Excuses."
"Can I help?" Mamoru asked.
Stan eyed him dubiously. "If you really want to."
"It's not any trouble."
"Tell me that after you've moved three thousand pounds of frozen water. It's miserable."
"You're such a drama queen," Hallie said.
"Says the person still cozied up in her reindeer slippers. Are you gonna get dressed or not?"
"Wuss." Hallie gulped down the rest of her coffee and wriggled out of the breakfast nook. She was in fact wearing slippers with reindeer antlers on them.
"Were you serious about helping?" she asked Mamoru brightly.
"Of course." He slid out of his seat as well.
Ten minutes later, he was armed with a blue snow shovel and borrowed work gloves, and spent the rest of the morning helping to clear the various paths around the house, in between making snow angels and disturbingly well-endowed snow people. The brisk air and exercise felt good after an entire day indoors, but Mamoru carefully kept this opinion to himself. The only acceptable commentary seemed to be complaining, and since insincerity had never been a strong suit of his, he simply said nothing at all and continued to scrape a perfect line along the right edge of the driveway.
By the time the sun reached its peak in the sky, his hands were numb, his back was damp, and his boots felt twice as heavy as when he'd first begun. He paused for a minute to catch his breath, and jumped when a handful of snow hit the back of his head. He whirled around—an amateur's mistake—and another snowball immediately hit him in the mouth.
Both Stan and Hallie were grinning as they faced him, their shovels already tossed aside and a pile of snowballs amassed between them. It was hardly honorable for them to have prepared their assault without allowing him to do the same.
But Mamoru hadn't survived this long fighting only in fair fights.
An uncharacteristic dangerous grin crossed his face, and that was all the warning they got before he pounced. In one fluid motion, he dropped his shovel, snatched up a handful of snow, and darted forward, straight for their own pile of ammunition. In a real fight, it would have been a reckless, borderline suicidal move, but in this battle, he was certain he had the upper hand in reflexes, and felt no shame in taking advantage of it. It had been too long since he'd had the chance.
His hasty fistful of snow hit Hallie in the arms, which she'd crossed over her face with a squeal as soon as he went on the offense. In two bounds, he reached their stockpile of snowballs and grabbed one in each hand as he vaulted over the top. He tumbled easily in the air, relishing the too-short moment of pure physical freedom before tucking into a roll and hitting the ground. The impact barely registered as he rolled forward in the fresh snow, letting his momentum carry him right back onto his feet. He dug in his heels, spun around, and let loose both snowballs at the same time.
With deadly accuracy, they found their respective targets square in the face.
Hallie squealed louder this time while Stan swore through a sputter of powder, "Fuck! What are you, a ninja?"
Mamoru's burst of laughter was probably rude, and he would have apologized for it if Hallie hadn't started laughing just as hard. She also surprised him by having the gumption to snatch up a new snowball from their pile, but her throw went wide when he feinted forward, making her scream and run away instead.
He held himself in check after that. Between this stunt and the dart gun fight the night before, he didn't need to raise any more suspicion than he already had. But it was worth the satisfaction when neither Stan nor Hallie dared to mount another surprise attack against him.
Mamoru turned his back to hide his smile, content and confident that he'd be finishing the rest of his shoveling in peace.
Sometime during the morning, Uncle Johnny came to the house via "the back road," and after a communal breakfast of leftover pie and more coffee, the four of them trudged back outside to shovel the frozen pond on the family property. Hallie was more enthusiastic about this assignment while Stan grumbled equally. Johnny was all business, taking care of the center of the ice with a snow blower while the rest of them cleared the edges with their shovels.
The frozen sheet they uncovered was so remarkably clear that Mamoru couldn't resist crouching down for a closer look. When his fingers brushed the ice, something flashed through him, not a vision, but some type of energy, one that set his Crystal to burning like a candle in his chest. Whatever it was, it didn't feel dark, nor did he sense anything evil nearby, so he couldn't be sure whether his Crystal had reacted simply in response or in protection.
"Isn't it cool?" Hallie tromped up beside him, unaware of his distraction. Her hazel eyes were bright when she smiled down at him, the green in them emphasized by her red coat. "I can't wait to go out on that first skate. Do you ice skate?"
He carefully hid his frown and stood back up so he could reply without having to shout over the roar of Johnny's snow blower. "Only in skating rinks. Never outside like this."
"It's not as smooth as a rink, I'll admit, but there's something pretty special about it."
"Do you skate outside often?"
"Since I was little. Would you like to try it? You could use Stan's hockey skates, maybe."
"I don't want to impose."
"You wouldn't be. He doesn't care for it, but he always had to come with me because we have a rule that no one goes on the ice alone."
"That is a sensible rule."
"It is. He understands even though he complains about it. Anyway, maybe we'll get a chance to go out before it gets dark today."
Mamoru glanced around to survey their handiwork. "I think we are almost finished here."
"Yeah, but then we have to go over and help Johnny with his driveway. He didn't just come over for the free pie."
The muscles in Mamoru's back twitched at the thought of more shoveling, but on the upside, he was introduced to "Sally", Johnny's lime green snowmobile, and to Buck and Rogers, the pair that Stan's family kept. The four of them rode together to Johnny's house, with Mamoru behind Hallie on the way there, and then on the way back, he was allowed at the helm of Rogers after a quick lesson while Hallie rode behind her brother.
The "back road" that the family used turned out to be a wide stretch of open land bordering the town on one side, and on the other, a majestic mountain range rose tall and snow-capped deep into the north. They raced past picturesque homesteads nestled in thickets and smoky lavender-shadowed foothills exuding an air so sweet, it brightened both his lungs and his spirit. The breathtaking beauty of the landscape chased the soreness from his body, and the exhilaration of the ride sent a much-needed rush through his blood.
The return trip from Johnny's house was far too short. When they came to a stop outside the garage at Stan's house, Mamoru pulled off his helmet without bothering to hide his delighted grin. Adrenaline buzzed pleasantly in his veins and he shook out his hair unthinkingly, not quite ready to be still yet.
"Goddamn," he heard Hallie mutter.
"You look like you enjoyed that," Stan said with a grin, but he looked equally energized. "You want to go another round?"
"Can we?"
His obvious excitement made Stan laugh. "Sure. Hal, you in?"
She was already tugging her helmet back on. "I wouldn't miss it."
"Yeah, I bet," Stan teased, and she kicked his boot.
"Shut it."
They repeated the circuit to and from Johnny's house, and then Stan led them on some paths through his own family's property, many of them untrodden. Across one broad meadow, they fanned out and raced each other to the other side before collapsing back into a single file.
Only when the sun and the temperature began to dip did they return reluctantly to the house. Hallie made them more hot cocoa, during which they threw really only a minimal number of marshmallows at each other, and then they went and collapsed on the sofas in the den, tired but jubilant, chilled feet stretched towards the fire Stan built for them in the fireplace.
His friend fell asleep within minutes. Hallie sat and stared peacefully into the flames, her mug clutched in her lap as the firelight brought out hints of gold in both her hair and her eyes. At one point, she caught Mamoru's gaze, and it made her blush and look down into her cocoa. But he could sense she was pleased rather than embarrassed.
It felt different from that awkward moment when they'd first met, maybe because of how gracious she'd been since then, or maybe because of the lingering elation from their day in the snow. Whatever the reason, he was relieved to have somehow transitioned from guarded politeness to something more companionable.
He had the entire smaller sofa to himself, and after a while, he felt enough at ease to let himself lay down, head pillowed on one armrest while his legs dangled over the other, closest to the fire.
It was a nearly perfect moment, with the soothing crackle of the flames and the smell of chocolate curling up from his mug. Then Dizzy arrived with a quiet meow and the scene was truly complete. He smiled and dangled a hand towards the floor, making those silly chirping noises that, at home, would never fail to earn him a withering look from Luna. Here, he was rewarded with the brush of soft fur against his palm. He wiggled his fingers and felt the pregnant pause of a predator preparing to pounce. When she finally did, he retracted his hand a millisecond too late to avoid the swipe of her claws.
"Dizzy," Hallie admonished, but he chuckled and assured her it was okay. The scratches were already beginning to heal, and he turned his hand so Hallie wouldn't notice. Then he tried to entice Dizzy again.
With each attack, he got better at sensing when she was going to strike, and eventually she lost interest in him, stalking away to the other couch and curling up on Stan's head instead.
"I don't suppose you want to go skating still?" Hallie asked shyly after another lull.
Mamoru glanced over at Stan, who was snoring soundly despite the feline parked on his face. He recalled what Hallie had said about their safety rules on the ice.
"I will go with you if you like," he said.
"No pressure or anything," Hallie added hastily, but Mamoru understood what it was like to hold back about something you really wanted.
"Let's go." He swung his legs off the armrest and sat up. "Our hard work today shouldn't be wasted."
"Okay." She was blushing again, but she looked grateful.
She went upstairs to retrieve her skates and Stan's, then met him in the mudroom to put their snow clothes back on. As they were pulling on their boots, her father passed by and warned them not to stay out too late.
"We're not five, Pa," Hallie said, not even looking up, but Mamoru nodded solemnly and promised they would return before dark.
"You've got a good head on your shoulders, Mamoru," the older man said with an approving smile, and continued on his way to the kitchen.
"Way to backhand, Pops," Hallie grumbled, but she sounded more exasperated than upset.
"He means well?" Mamoru offered tentatively though he wasn't sure if his input would be appropriate or welcome. He didn't exactly have much paternal experience himself, and was aware that his attempted reading of the situation might be presumptuous.
"He means exactly what he says." Hallie looked at him speculatively as if trying to puzzle something out, but whatever that was, he couldn't have guessed.
"He wants you to be safe, since he is your father." It was a completely inane statement, spoken only to fill the silence.
"He wants both of us to be safe," Hallie corrected gently. "And he knows you want the same thing because you are a good and responsible person. He respects that about you. That's all I was trying to say."
"Oh."
He was saved from having to come up with a more profound reply when Hallie finished with her boots and jumped up.
"Let's go skating!"
The scrape of their blades against the ice was the loudest sound in their private frozen oasis. Hallie was gleefully skating circles around him, darting in close, then zipping away again like a boomerang while he moved at a more sedate pace around the perimeter of the pond. Stan's skates were too big for him, not so much as to be unusable, but it had taken a few minutes of practice to find his footing. Hallie, who clearly was in her element, was only too glad to help, holding his hands through the first treacherous lap around the ice. Only after they separated would it occur to him that this was yet another trait she shared with Makoto. It was becoming uncanny.
As he coasted around the now familiar curve at the end of the pond, he dared to close his eyes, taken by the idyll of the moment. The cool draft against his face and the smell of the pine trees were no less pleasant than lounging by the fireplace indoors, and he was glad to have mustered the energy to come out. When he began yet another pass across the ice, he tilted his gaze upward to drink in the sight of the gold and purple sky. The colors were so rich, it felt like he could just reach up and touch them with his hand.
In time, the radiant hues dimmed to a velvet indigo. With each subtle shift, he'd been keenly aware of moving ever closer to that point where people considered it proper to retreat inside. He remembered his promise to return before dark. Yet, he made no move to do so.
Where others saw only the fading light, he saw a transition. The stars were coming out. He could still sense the sun just below the horizon. Soon the moon would rise to keep watch in its place, and out here, she would be brighter than she ever was in the city, even at her fullest. He smiled to himself, remembering how much it inordinately annoyed Usa that he could track the phases of the moon better than she could.
"If there's one thing I should know better than you, it should be the moon!"
He'd laughed until she stomped her foot, then trapped her from behind when she refused his embrace. He squeezed her so close that she squirmed.
"I don't track the moon itself," he confessed. Closer to her ear, he purred, "I just feel its effects. Of course you wouldn't feel your own gravity."
Her body shivered deliciously in his arms when his breath tickled her ear. But she turned her blushing face away from him and groused, "Nerd," making him laugh once more.
His skate suddenly caught on a deep groove in the ice, and he yipped as he was broken out of the strange reverie he had sunk into. He quickly righted himself, but couldn't help sneaking a furtive glance at Hallie to see if she'd noticed him stumble.
His pride was safe. She was busy attempting some type of trick in the middle of the ice and was paying him no mind. Had he been wearing his own skates, he might have attempted something a little bolder himself, but there was just no good way to explain how or why one had immaculate dress boots with skate blades attached.
Still, Hallie's skill sparked a challenge in him, and he turned himself around so that he was gliding backwards. His pride needled him, wanting to claim something more impressive to its credit, but before he could do something foolish, Hallie leaned one degree too far and went sprawling onto her stomach.
He immediately reversed direction and pushed off towards her, his protective instincts proving faster—and more graceful—than his conscious thought. But only just so. He hadn't really learned how to stop in his ill-fitting skates, so rather than trusting them to cooperate, he went down on his knees and slid the last few meters to Hallie's side on his shins, using his hands to slow his momentum.
He overshot and had to crawl back a few paces to reach her.
"Are you okay?"
She was already sitting up, but he held an arm around her back anyway in case she needed the support.
"Yeah, I'm fine." She sounded more vexed than hurt. "Just failing epically at my Stars on Ice audition."
"You are very good," he said, hoping to assuage her, but she just shook her head and sighed longingly.
"Goddamnit, why are you so nice?"
It was strange to be accused of something complimentary, but her question seemed rhetorical. Instead of trying to answer, they simply helped each other up.
"We should go inside," he said.
"Yeah, you're right."
But she didn't move either. Both of them were equally loath to leave this private retreat behind. He was about to ask whether they might return the next day, certain that would make her happy, when his Crystal began burning in his chest so fiercely, it made him gasp. A deep foreboding dropped over him like a blanket, and the world seemed to darken in a way that had nothing to do with the waning light.
"Mamoru?" Hallie asked worriedly, noticing his strange reaction.
Later, he would wonder if there had been signs he'd missed. There should have been because the Earth didn't simply break like that.
But it did.
It caved beneath his feet so suddenly that, for one infinitesimal moment, he thought the trees were inexplicably rocketing upward towards the heavens. Then the water closed over his head and he realized he was the one who had fallen.
The frigid pool was an embrace of electricity and knives, searing with exquisitely sharp pricks up every nerve ending it could reach, which ended up being most of them. His body seized from the initial shock, and then he began thrashing helplessly as the brutal cold truly registered, soaking quickly through his inner layers of clothing. His gasp of pain cost him the half-breath of air he had left in his lungs, leaving him to choke on the icy water that immediately flooded in to take its place.
He fought against the panic that threatened to overwhelm him, and the manic floundering of his own body. Losing his wits would ultimately be deadlier than either the cold or the lack of air, no matter how it felt. He just needed to get back to the surface, to find the ice where it had broken. If he could do that, he would be fine.
The urge to inhale was excruciating, but he managed to repress it by focusing on his arms and paddling them to and fro as steadily as he could. He couldn't keep them from shivering, but he was gliding upward now, and that further helped keep the panic at bay. He began kicking as well, slowly, all too aware of the numbness that was creeping up his legs.
He was almost calm, sanguine even, as he made steady progress upward. But when the surface of the water failed to appear, he began losing the tight control he had of himself. His movements grew erratic, fighting as he was against the cold and the increasing pressure in his chest. No matter which direction he looked, everything was dark as if he'd gone blind, and suddenly he was no longer sure which way was up at all.
He began reaching in every direction, twisting and pulling against the drag of the water as he searched desperately for something, anything, to anchor him. Again and again, he clawed into the dark, and every time found only emptiness.
It took far too long for him to realize that something more than mere water was at work here. The nebulous dark wasn't just physical. It was creeping into his mind as well, a heavy presence that tried to drag him from consciousness just as it dragged his body away from the surface. From air. From life.
He kept twisting, trying to hold on, to stay present. But the pressure in his chest finally became unbearable, and his mouth gaped open in a desperate bid for air. The painful, liquid inhale triggered a new bout of spasms, which caused him to inhale more water, and so the cycle of agony went, around and around, merciless and unendurable.
When his mind finally began to dim, he was relieved and felt like a coward for it. But he was floating away from the pain, from the bitterness of terror, towards an abyss that seemed peaceful by comparison. Vaguely he remembered his Crystal—why had it left him cold?—trying to warn him, but the memory seemed distant and unimportant.
He sank into the darkness gratefully, no longer afraid.
Stan hunched his shoulders and cursed underneath his breath as he trekked through the dusky woods towards the pond. He'd been sent to retrieve Hallie and Mamoru for dinner, and, not wanting to go through the hassle of donning his full winter armor, had opted for just his hat, coat, and boots, which were enough to keep him from freezing to death, but not enough to keep him comfortable. He hoped Hallie wouldn't dawdle when he showed up. She must have really wanted to hit the ice today if she'd dragged Mamoru with her.
It was quiet as he neared the pond, but he didn't think too much of it. Maybe his friend had gotten bored with the girly sport and they had gone exploring instead. On the other hand, even if Mamoru had gotten bored, he was much too polite to say so.
Stan stepped into the clearing and his jaw dropped open. What had been a solid ice sheet seven inches thick lay shattered as if Paul Bunyan himself had taken a hammer to it. Jagged plates drifted lazily amid dark ribbons of exposed water, deceptively serene. When he looked closer, he saw that the ice had thinned considerably to about four inches, which was as weird as it was concerning. That was still too solid to have broken up as completely as it did. Even if some weak spots had caved, they shouldn't have brought down the entire surface like this.
His first thought was that maybe a meteorite had struck. That was rare, but not impossible, right? But they should have heard the impact, and if Hallie and Mamoru were nearby, they would have come running, and would be right here gawking alongside him. Besides, a meteorite strike should have taken out more than just the pond. Nothing else in the area had been damaged.
As he glanced around in confusion, he noticed two pairs of boots neatly lined up a few feet away from the pond's edge. The sight made his blood run cold.
Shit.
He dashed up to the edge, boots splashing as he stalked the perimeter with tighter and tighter steps. His eyes roved over the dark ribbons of water frantically.
"Hallie! Chiba!"
The daylight was almost completely gone by now, so it was kind of a miracle that he caught a glimpse of red floating near the center of the water, and two ice shards away, a dark head that by all means should have been impossible to spot at all.
He had never been so terrified in his entire life.
Every instinct screamed at him to jump in and pull them out as soon as possible, but he knew that would be the absolute worst thing to do. At best, he might reach one of them, but without help, he would almost certainly end up a victim himself.
Fighting back those instincts, he forced himself to turn around and prayed to God his entire desperate sprint back to the house.
"PA! MA! CALL 911!"
TW: This chapter contains a depiction of someone drowning.