I still don't like the title of the story, but here we are. If you can suggest a title I like, I'll definitely use it and give credit! I actually got this idea from the (what I consider creepy) Christmas song "Baby it's Cold Outside". I always found that song super creepy if you paid attention to the lyrics, but hey, maybe it's just me? The song just inspired the story, so no, this isn't a Christmas themed story!
Featuring: Makoto (special appearance by two others)
Universe: "An Accident" & "Drowning" (This story takes place earlier than both)
Warnings/ratings: I'd say T just to be safe. No curse words.
Makoto's shoes made a crunch, crunch, crunch noise as they slapped against the gravel floor. She'd been running for a while now and could finally feel her lungs and muscles straining from the effort. She was almost at the corner where the gravel gave way to a paved sidewalk. Makoto knew she'd be the only one crazy enough to run at this hour, so the sidewalk would be all hers.
As soon as her foot hit the pavement, Makoto put on a burst of speed. Her arms and legs pumping in rhythm, she could feel the cool breeze slip past her sweaty face. She kept running at this pace, ignoring the burning in her lungs. She could feel the slow burn as it escalated with each shallow breath. She kept pushing herself, needing to feel every part of her body screaming in protest. She ran like something was chasing her. Which, she thought sardonically, wasn't so off from the truth. When she felt like every part of her body was on fire, she pushed further. She kept pushing until it felt like her lungs would burst and her muscles would give out.
She decelerated to a jog and then a brisk walk, taking in deep breaths to gradually slow everything back down. This morning routine of hers seemed to be the only way she could calm herself down from her nightmares. She knew all of them were dealing with it, albeit vastly differently. The horrific memories that seemed to plague all of them seemed to be destroying them slowly. She couldn't sleep, or rather chose not to. Every time she closed her eyes, the hellish nightmares would be waiting with open arms.
Her grades began to suffer and so did her cooking. She decided then that she wouldn't let it consume her life. She started running again, early in the morning before classes. She'd give herself enough time to get her homework done and practice a few baking or cooking techniques before sparring late into the night. By the time she would fall into bed, her mind was too exhausted to relive old memories.
Makoto glanced at the little bakery up ahead, noticing the open sign flashing red. She debated whether to stop there or go home. It was a Sunday, so she didn't have to rush home to get ready for anything. She decided to treat herself since she felt better today than she had in a long time. She'd been there a few times before and had even befriended the shopkeeper. She made her way to the little shop named Death by Cupcake and opened the door, glancing upwards as the little bell jingled her arrival.
She frowned. She didn't remember that being there the last time she had visited. She glanced around, noticing no one else in the bakery. She figured that'd be the case, given how early it was.
"I'll be right there!" A voice shouted from the back room. Makoto made her way to the counter. She glanced down at the display cabinet, feeling a bit guilty that she arrived right as the shop opened. The display cabinet remained partially empty, with a few hand written notes scribbled on a sticky note to dictate where things went.
Makoto glanced up to the back room as she heard a grunt followed by an extremely tall man emerge from it. A tray full of baked goods was clamped tightly in his hands. He placed the tray down slowly on the counter and greeted her warmly.
"I'm so sorry! I'm a little behind since I'm working by myself today and wasn't planning on having a customer as soon as I unlocked the door. How can I help you?"
Makoto took a step back. Fear crippled her; her throat seemed to constrict from it. Her heart beat wildly in her chest as her eyes darted to the man in front of her and then to anywhere that could be a quick getaway. Reflexively, her body crouched into a defensive position. It took all her self-restraint to not attack the man out of pure muscle memory. Her mind kept reminding her why she should.
The man's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Uh, mam? Are you okay?" He seemed hesitant to make a move towards her.
Makoto knew she looked like a wild animal that had been cornered. She could feel her muscles straining from the effort it took to not react. Her gut would not let her fully relax, but she pulled herself to her full height, hoping to look intimidating.
"I'm sorry, but you just look like someone…I've met before." Makoto's voice sounded horse, even to herself, as she chose her words carefully.
The man made no attempt to move, but did seem to relax a fraction. He let out an awkward laugh, showing her his hands were empty. "I'd remember a pretty face such as yours. But whoever that guy is, I sure wouldn't want to be him."
His attempt at a joke made Makoto blush out of embarrassment. After the initial shock of seeing him, Makoto took a harder look at the man behind the counter.
He certainly looked like the man from her nightmares, but upon further scrutiny, she started noticing the differences. The man in front of her was of the right height, but he didn't seem to have the right build. He seemed slimmer, less muscular. The color of his eyes were different—more of a honey instead of the deep chocolate. His light, curly brown hair had been pulled back into a bun. The other man's wild curls had always been kept free. Makoto could see no malice in this man's face. He actually had a pleasant expression, albeit currently he seemed more frazzled. Makoto knew if she stepped closer to the man, she'd notice even smaller differences. Heavens knew she'd memorized that face.
"I didn't really believe in the doppelgänger phenomena until just now," she attempted lamely. She knew she sounded crazy, her actions itself merited that thought.
He had the decency to laugh at her lame joke. "If you don't mind waiting a bit, I can finish stocking the counter. You can pick out whatever you want, my treat."
"Oh no, you don't have to do that. I mean yes that's fine I can wait. I've got cash." Makoto internally cringed. She sounded like a blubbering fool. Maybe she did have a type.
He grinned at her before getting back to work, checking his sticky notes and placing the correct baked good on the display counters.
"So what happened to Mr. Caldwell?" Makoto asked as she watched him.
"He had to leave for a family emergency. He's been gone for about two weeks now, I believe. I'm one of his silent partners. He called me and asked me to look after the bakery. He must've been desperate," he added as an afterthought.
"Why's that?" Makoto asked politely. She didn't remember Mr. Caldwell ever speaking about his family, but she dismissed the thought. It wouldn't be unnatural for someone not to divulge private affairs. She eyed the baked goods. None of them had the quality of Mr. Caldwell's, she observed.
He caught her glance and she blushed, knowing her face showed her disapproval. He laughed good-naturedly.
"As you can see, I'm not much of a baker. I run the business part of this establishment. I warned him when he asked, but he didn't seem to think it'd be a problem. I'm starting to think the lack of customers lately states otherwise." He smiled sardonically.
For a brief moment Makoto had a flashback of the same smile on another mans face. She grabbed the countertop for balance, trying to push down what felt like bile climbing up her throat. "I've always been a firm believer that the taste is what truly matters," she hastily added, hoping he didn't pick up on her sudden unease.
"I guess you'll be the judge of that, soon enough. My name's Ignacio by the way, but all my friends call me Nacho." He didn't seem to have noticed, being too busy putting the finishing touches on the display while he talked.
"Makoto," she responded, trying to sound calm as her whole body started to feel clammy.
"Well, Makoto, what would you like? On the house, obviously, since I made you wait so long." The pleasant smile didn't quite seem to reach his eyes this time.
She thought about arguing, but decided against it. "That's very kind of you. I'll take a medium coffee, black and," she paused, looking at the array of baked goods and deciding on one randomly, "that apple strudel."
"Great choice! I've been working on that one. Last week it looked atrocious!" This time his eyes seemed to ignite with mirth.
Makoto laughed. "It doesn't look half bad now." She winked at him. The uneasy feeling seemed to have passed.
"Hold that thought until you've tried it. Why don't you sit down somewhere and I'll bring it out to you once your coffee is ready?"
Makoto nodded her head and made her way to a table. She picked one out where she could have access to the door and be able to see Nacho as well. Just to be safe. She heard the coffee grinder as she watched Nacho shuffle around preparing her order.
She knew Nacho couldn't be him. He was dead. He had died by her hands, after all. At times, when she had trouble falling asleep, her mind would wander to that night. The memory was just as vivid now as it had been the night of.
She had crawled over to his lifeless body. Something in her had to make sure. The smell of singed hair, clothes, and flesh had hit her nose. She had thought she'd have been used to the smell, but that night, she had almost gagged. Luckily it had started raining then, washing away the smell of death with it. Her eyes found his bare chest where her thunder attack had left its mark. The bolt of lightening she had aimed at him had found its target. His heart had stopped beating even before his body had hit the ground.
She hadn't needed to check his pulse. She knew just by looking at his lifeless eyes that he was dead. Exhaustion had hit her then. She had collapsed to the ground next to him, staring up at the heavens above. She had let the rain hit her face, washing away any traces of her tears. Her friends had found her like that, bleeding out from the multiple cuts on her body. None of them had mentioned her puffy, red eyes.
The appearance of her coffee and plated apple strudel snapped her out of her reverie. Makoto jumped in surprise.
"Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to startle you," Nacho stated in concern.
"Not your fault. Thank you," Makoto politely smiled. Nacho took a step back, watching her with eager eyes. Makoto realized he was waiting for her to try his strudel. She couldn't help but smile as she picked up her fork and grabbed a bite. She chewed it a few times, allowing her taste buds to pick up on the cinnamon and apple flavors.
"Well?" He asked eagerly, not waiting for her to swallow.
Makoto swallowed, hiding the big grin behind her hand. "Not bad."
He laughed. "I'll take it from a culinary genius like yourself."
Makoto took a sip of her coffee. She gave him a quizzical look. "What was that?"
"Oh, Bart, or as you know him as Caldwell, told me about a young chef who would stop by from time to time. I just figured it was you since you were looking at the baked goods with a critical eye."
Makoto took another sip of her coffee before answering. "Oh, yes that's right. We would exchange tips from time to time. I didn't mean to offend you earlier."
He waved his hand. "No offense taken. I'm not claiming to know what I'm doing around here. Let me know if I can get you anything else."
"Alright, thanks." Makoto watched as he made his way back to the counter. He picked up the empty tray and sticky notes and headed to the back room, the doors swinging closed behind him. Makoto ate and drank in silence, enjoying the peaceful feeling. She was about ¾ done with her coffee when she noticed Nacho still hadn't emerged from the back.
Thinking it peculiar, Makoto stood up. A wave of vertigo hit her and she grabbed her chair so as to not fall over. She grabbed her head and waited for the feeling to pass. After a few seconds, she took a tentative step forward. Feeling no vertigo, she proceeded to the swinging back doors.
Hearing a muffled voice, Makoto quietly walked through. The vertigo hit again, forcing her to shut her eyes and brace herself against something. She could feel the apple strudel trying to force its way back up. Makoto took a few shallow breaths through her mouth until the feeling passed again.
She slowly crept forward, using one hand to stabilize herself if the vertigo decided to rear its ugly head. She stopped short when she spied Nacho with his back to her. He had his cell phone to his ear and his other hand held the handle to the freezer.
"No, he's still here. Just say the word, Keaton, and both bodies can be delivered today." Nacho paused as he waited for the response. Makoto felt a sickening feeling begin in her stomach. "That's what I was hoping for."
Makoto watched in horror as Nacho hung up, placed his phone in his back pocket and disappeared inside the freezer. Makoto dashed to the freezer, hoping to catch him off guard. She reached the door and started to close it when the door came flying back at her.
The force knocked her down and her head made a crack sound as it met with the concrete. Makoto's eyesight blurred and she turned to her side to vomit. Wiping her mouth with her hand, she tried standing up, but only managed to stumble over. Her head throbbed and she feared she'd be sick again. Her eyesight was fuzzy at best as she tried to pinpoint where Nacho could be.
She heard a shuffling to her left. She saw what looked like Nacho's silhouette carrying something over his shoulder. Nacho dropped the load to the ground with a small grunt. Makoto heard the thud and felt the rush of the wind hit her face. Makoto had a sinking suspicion she knew what the inanimate object was. She couldn't help the gag that escaped her lips as she shuffled backwards, away from it. Her back hit a desk and she managed to raise herself up with its help.
"Well it looks like the drug I used is making its way through your system. I wanted to avoid a mess, but you had to go ruin it by snooping." Nacho's voice had lowered an octave; gone was the amicable voice he had been using.
Makoto felt sick to her stomach. It was like her nightmares had seeped into her real life. She knew that Nacho had morphed into the man of her nightmares. Or had he been him all along and she'd been too stupid to notice?
"How?" She asked. She would need to rely on her other senses to have a fighting chance.
"Not important," he spat out vehemently.
Her body moved purely out of instinct and she threw herself towards the right, tumbling into a tower of flour. His wind attack grazed her left arm, cutting her clothes and flesh. Makoto could feel her blood snake down her arm and hit the floor, where it mingled with the flour. She didn't have much time to think about it because Nacho conjured up a windstorm. Things started flying around her and she felt the pull of the wind as she tried to remain upright. Something smacked her in the face and she cried out as warm blood trickled down her right eye. She scrambled to a corner as she felt more projectiles hit her body.
She got into the fetal position with her hands over her neck and head to protect them. Makoto winced as random objects hurled around and hit her. This continued for a few more seconds until it abruptly stopped. Makoto sat still, straining her ears to pick up any small noise. As quick as she could, Makoto rolled out of the corner and into the open area. Not a fraction of a second later, the drawers she'd been hiding behind slid into the wall where she would've been.
"Quick, aren't we? I don't remember you being this smart. Normally you just rushed into a fight," Nacho stated nonchalantly.
He was toying with her. Makoto got awkwardly to her feet. Her muscles would soon give out on her and her vision hadn't gotten any better. Whatever he had slipped into her coffee would soon cripple her. Makoto noticed Nacho had something glinting in his hand—a dagger, she guessed.
"I've learned a few things since I've killed you last," Makoto goaded. She hoped he hadn't. She needed his short temper to flare so her plan would work.
"DON'T THINK I CAN'T KILL YOU!" He shouted at her.
Makoto smirked. Nacho let out a frustrated scream and charged her, using his command over the winds to propel himself even faster towards her. Makoto made to dodge but her muscles buckled. In one swift movement, Nacho had thrown her into the wall and thrust the dagger into her gut. He stifled her scream with his opposite hand clutched savagely across her mouth.
Makoto saw the triumphant look in his eyes as her vision swam. She feared she'd black out from the pain. Makoto felt her whole body give out as her blood started to soak her shirt. Her head slumped against him but she made a feeble attempt to grab his arm holding the dagger.
Nacho snapped her head upright so she could stare into his eyes again. "I want to see the life drain from those pretty green eyes of yours," he whispered into her ear.
Makoto looked at him defiantly. With the last remaining strength she could muster, Makoto kneed him in the groin. When he staggered back with a small groan, she conjured up a pitiful looking lightening ball and threw it at him. It was enough to seize him up and let her escape.
Makoto closed her eyes and prayed she had enough energy left to make a big jump. She summoned up the image of a person and teleported out with a quick flash of green lightening.
Mamoru had been up for awhile studying. He had an exam tomorrow and he wanted to go over his notes one last time. He had gotten up to grab more coffee when a flash of green lightening in his living room startled him. He ran towards the light and saw his friend pitch forward. He rushed over and grabbed her before she hit his floor.
"Makoto? What the hell happened to you?" He saw the massive dagger in her abdomen and her top was saturated with blood.
Makoto looked at him with half lidded eyes. "They're back," she whispered. And then she passed out.
I hope you guys enjoyed it! I've had fun writing in this universe! As always, please comment and review with any thoughts and criticism! I love reading them!