Shuffled
Story Summary: One was unwilling to fight death and the other incapable of seeing the truth. The failure of the two twisted the power of the wild card. Now Makoto Yuki must see what Yu Narukami could not and Yu Narukami must fight what Makoto Yuki would not. (P3 and P4 protagonist switch up)
Interlude: A Fortunate Contract
13 March 2011
They followed the bear or rather they followed the boy inside what could be called a bear suit. Its body was egg-like, colored red and white. The fur at the top of its head was blue and gathered together in a spike between two cartoonish ears. The large silver zipper that sealed the separation of the head of the suit from its body was best described as comical. The voice that came from it was high pitched and naïve, that of a young boy. The creature that named itself Teddie had offered them a way out of the world of the television.
Naoto Shirogane wanted to question, to challenge, the impossibility of Teddie's promises, but could not find the strength to do so. Stranger things had happened. She had been healed by an ancient Greek myth summoned by a quiet boy's action of mock suicide to defeat his yellowed-eyed evil doppelganger. A doppelganger who claimed that said boy had killed an entire world. She had probably even met the memories of his victims. All of this occurred while walking through the underworld after tumbling down a cliff to escape shadowy monsters and armed bikers who doubled as crazy cultists. Oh, and they had fallen into a television.
She rubbed at her temples angrily, the sweat from her brow wetting her hand. This had begun as a murder case in a small town. A few hours ago she thought she had caught her man, Makoto Yuki. Was she insane? Why couldn't she find the strength to stop and question them? It was her job and her duty, but she was so tired. A small grunt of pain escaped her lips as she continued to hobble forward. Her eyes burned when she tried to look through the fog of the strange world.
She felt Makoto looking down at her, but ignored his passive gaze and continued to march forward. Fresh air would clear her mind and then she could continue her investigation. She may have ignored his gaze but his voice caught her attention.
"You should take it easy," Makoto said. "I was able to heal the serious wounds, but there will be swelling and bruising. Plus, places like this tend to wear on even the strongest minds."
She ignored his advice and took the chance to gain information. "You have been here before then?"
"No, not exactly."
"That is not an answer and I have not cleared you of suspicion yet. Your best course of action is to cooperate and answer my questions." Her voice was tired and harsh. The fatigue that claimed her in this strange realm did not seem to affect him to the same degree and that only added further agitation to her mind.
Makoto's frown was almost imperceptible. "I know I owe you an explanation, but you don't look like you're in the best shape. I think it would be best if we made it out of this place first. Besides I'm not sure I'll be able to take out any more shadows if we encounter them."
"Umm," Teddie began with a small and ignored voice.
"Your concern is not necessary," Naoto began with a kinder tone that turned stern. "I would rather have answers now while I can question you both."
"Excuse me!" Teddie said again, but withered away when they both turned to stare at him. "I'm beary sorry for the interruption, but we're at the exit."
The two took in what they could of their surroundings. Beneath troubling fog was the makings of a studio and at its center were many televisions. They were stacked one on top of the other in large columns. On their screens fell the pixelated snow of bad reception and they hummed an electric buzz. Their gaze returned to the bear in confusion unsure of how this location could return them to their own world.
"You have to go out the way you came in," Teddie explained. "C'mere I need to start shoving!"
The bear began tugging on Naoto's sleeve, but could not move the girl who had planted her feet firmly. When his tugging began to annoy, she gave him a light shove. The movement sent Teddie teetering like a weeble-wobble, but in the end, he fell. Naoto fought back the urge to vomit. There was no one inside that suit.
"That wasn't nice!" Teddie shouted and then whined. "Help me uuuuuuuup!"
Makoto found the whining bear tiring after a moment and picked him up with one hand. His eyes widened when he felt how light Teddie was and the implications that arose.
"You're not wearing that suit," he said calmly.
"What suit?" Teddie asked truly puzzled, but then turned angry. "You need to leave now it's not safe and you don't belong here."
"Enough," Naoto stated firmly. "I will have answers! This place, what is it? That television you are trying to force us through where does it lead and can we get back here once we leave? I will need to question you further."
"My home, out of my home and he can come back in. He smells a little more like me now," Teddie answered her questions in a simple tone.
Naoto's eyes widened in exasperation and she spoke in a hushed voice, "Incoherent."
Makoto's blank expression did not change as he responded in a monotone, "I smell different?"
Naoto looked at Makoto with a frog-like frown, "Incompetent."
Teddie nodded his head sagely thinking that he had explained the situation well enough. "Yup, sensei. You should be able to come in through the TV anytime you want now . . . at least I think?"
"Because I've awakened a persona. Nothing really changes I guess." Makoto nodded back. "And I smell?"
Teddie brought his odd hand to his non-existent chin in a thinking pose. "Yes, you should wash sensei. You don't smell girly anymore."
"I used to smell girly," The tone of Makoto's voice made it impossible to tell if he was asking a question or making a statement.
Naoto looked down at her feet and rubbed at her temples whispering to herself, "Insane."
"Better then incompetent," Makoto said to her.
She looked up at him from behind her hat and wondered once more if he was joking. A smile was not on his face, but perhaps there were the beginnings of one. They continued to stare at each other, but when Naoto spoke it was to Teddie. "I would like you to answer my questions, Mr. Teddie."
"I did!" came an angry squeak. "You need to leave. You don't belong here."
"I want to know what this place is and 'your home' proves a poor answer," Naoto's voice became annoyed. "And rest assured neither of us is going into any television without first knowing where it leads."
"I live here, it is my home," Teddie tried to explain not knowing how to answer beyond that and despairing at the fact. "I-I can't say any more than that. You shouldn't be here!"
"This is probably difficult for you, Teddie," Makoto said breaking the interrogation. His voice was kind, a rare breach of the monotone.
Naoto wondered at the change in inflection, but Makoto continued.
"You sound scared," Makoto intuited. "The concern is appreciated, but the detective just wants to know why. You're probably confused as to why we are here as well. I am sorry for the trouble we have caused. But please answer the detective's questions if you can."
"The last ones that came here..." Teddie shuddered sadly and failed to finish his sentence. "The two guys were creepy, but the pretty lady in red. She didn't deserve what the shadows did to her. Please, I don't know where the TV's lead, but it will take you back to where you came from. I just don't want anyone else to get hurt."
Naoto's eyes widened. The new information turning the wheels of her mind. For all her cogitating during the past month and a half none of it could have pointed her in this direction. The killer was using this world to commit the murders. And there were only two people she knew that could enter this world. The biker and Makoto Yuki. Going through a television to a location of unknown quality with a potential suspect. The young detective suddenly felt wary of the two in front of her.
Makoto's voice broke her thoughts. "If it was me and I wanted to escape. I would have just let you die back there."
Naoto considered that and once again felt unnerved by the boy's ability to read others.
"Regardless, I would still like to know where this television we are about to step through leads."
"How am I supposed to know? It's your world!" Teddie's high pitched voiced protested once more.
"Are you sure there is nothing you can offer about what's on the other side?" Makoto responded.
"Every day is great at your Jooones." The bear sang happily proud of remembering the cheery jingle.
A single blink was the only sign of confusion Makoto offered in return.
"That TV says that a lot."
"It leads to the Junes supermarket?" Naoto said in disbelief connecting the annoying, but catchy jingle. "Still what if someone sees us? And how can I trust either of you?"
The bear looked defeated, but there was an understanding in the blue-haired boy's eyes.
"Detective, I swear to you that I will answer every question you have to the best of my ability and if I can return here I will bring you. Besides think of the time we entered it would be early morning on the other side. It's unlikely that anyone will be in a department store at that hour," Makoto offered. "I really think we should leave for now. It is not safe and I don't know that I can keep us safe from anymore shadows."
"That's what I've been saying!" Teddie growled.
"I am not afraid to face those monsters."
"I am asking you to leave because I am the one who is afraid," Makoto admitted.
His voice did not reveal fear and fear did not equate to innocence, but Naoto found something honest in his words and sighed. "Swear to me that I will have your full cooperation going forward. That includes returning to this place at our earliest convenience."
"I swear."
They were shoved through the television by blue hands. They fell through static snow and electric pixels. The trip was taxing, but over as soon as it began. They awoke in a tumble of limbs on the floor of Junes. Naoto stood up readjusting her hat and watching Makoto with a keen gaze as he returned to his own feet. Makoto with quiet acceptance offered his wrists to her and she locked them in cuffs. If the blue-haired boy was upset at her lack of trust he was wise enough not to show it.
Naoto called the police department and it was only minutes until they were both in the back of a police car. The sirens sung loudly in the dark night. The glow of the siren's lights cast reds and blues on their faces. Makoto turned to Naoto to say something, but noticed that the detective had fallen asleep. The purple coloring of her cheek from the blows she had endured matched the restlessness on her face. She fidgeted often and murmured soft, but serious things in her slumber. Even in rest the detective was restless. Her pursuit of justice was never ending. He smiled, it was fitting for the person he was coming to know and then he frowned at the thought. His bonds had been a curse in another world.
Detective Dojima was the first to greet him. The grizzled detective scratched at his beard and looked at him with tired eyes. His sipped a mug of black coffee before speaking. "You're going to be released within the hour."
"What?"
His request for clarification seemed to only tire the older man. In one motion Dojima finished the remainder of his coffee and sighed. In another he had un-cuffed Makoto returning the restraints to his belt. He sighed one final time before explaining the situation.
"You're going to be released and cleared of all charges. I thought the news would brighten even your blank face. Truth be told I wouldn't let you go, but I'm not the boss. Chief doesn't want to deal with your motorcycle gangs and cults. Thinks we should look at this in a new light. We lost two good men. He is furious and lashing out."
Dojima looked down at the boy. The skin around his eyes was wrinkled and cracked from exhaustion. The boy in turn did not offer him any insight into his inner mental workings. Weariness and stoicism clashed before being burned away by the light of Dojima's match. He took a single cigarette and lit its end. The crinkle of burning paper and the smell of exhaled smoke began to fill the room.
"What about detective Shirogane?"
"She is also being let go. Having a fifteen-year-old private detective captured along with our primary suspect," Dojima grunted in disgust. "Plus, her swollen face and injured leg seems to have woken everyone up to what I thought in the first place. This is no place for children, no matter their prior accomplishments. Looks bad for the department. Still, she did a lot for us and I can't shake the feeling that she deserved an easier let down."
"Why are you telling me this?"
The dark bags under Dojima's eyes disappeared into the shadow that crossed his face. The weight of his attention made Makoto sit straight. Makoto could tell he was staring into the eyes of a good man who was very angry and there was little more frightening in this world.
"Because I believe Shirogane when she says you're innocent and I believe her story about this biker being our suspect. But what I know is that the both of you are hiding much more than you are telling me. You should tell me everything."
Makoto held his gaze. When he glanced aside Dojima gave a grunt that indicated neither displeasure nor approval. It simply said it's on you now kid. A few more moments of silence passed between them before Dojima walked to the door and opened it.
"Shirogane is waiting outside for you. Our department is being advised not to dedicate officers to check on you. This is also being done against my advice. It would be best if you two look after each other."
Makoto stood up and walked to the door in soft step. He opened the door and turned one last time to look at the older man. Dojima had folded his arms in thought and offered the young one last questioning eyebrow that garnered no answer.
Dojima closed his eyes tiredly, "Kid keep yourself safe."
The door clicked behind him, but Dojima's mind opened to new thoughts. The chief was acting irresponsibly, dangerously. Dojima began to wonder.
Outside the police station a black car of indistinct model pulled up to him and the door opened to reveal detective Shirogane. Her clothes had been changed, but her hat was missing and the bruises on her face had begun to turn from blues to yellows and purples. The frown on her face said all she needed to and Makoto quickly stepped into the car seat next to her. The click of the car door locking preceded the squeaking of the window that separated them from the driver. Behind the black tinted window was a man in sunglasses of equal tint and silver hair.
"To my apartment Yakushiji. Get us there quietly and then patrol around the area."
The window returned, blocking Makoto's view of the driver once more. The small detective's gaze greeted him in the reflection of the mirror. The swelling around her wounded eye and the dark circle underneath the other reminded Makoto of his own vulnerability, but the determination in the greys of her irises brought him a surprising comfort. Her reflection's lips moved. The sound of her voice slightly cracking and tired commanded his attention.
"I am taking you to my place. You will reside with me until safer arrangements can be made for the both of us. Given that I no longer have any legal authority backing my actions you are free to decline. However, you have promised me your cooperation. I would suggest you not break your word to me. What are you going to do?"
"I'll stay with you," Makoto felt his heart beat a small quick rhythm. It was happening again; he was being pulled into a fight he did not choose and did not want. "Besides I have nowhere to go other than televisions and prisons."
The detective seemed to ignore the joke he offered and continued relentlessly. "You will answer my questions then?"
"If I may ask two in return."
A slight closing of her eyes was followed by a small nod, which Makoto took as a sign to continue.
"Where are we and when are we?"
The detective's eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. "Inaba Japan and it is the thirteenth of March two-thousand and eleven."
A look of nausea formed on the boy's face so quickly it took Naoto by surprise. She did not believe he could be so expressive. She saw as the sweat gathered on brow and a sick smile blanketed his face.
"Are you going to be alright?"
"It's just, the last thing I remember before meeting you was in the year two-thousand and nine."
The warm water drummed with pleasant pressure against the top of her head. She stared down at the white tile of her shower's floor as the last remnants of rusty red swirled down the drain. The heat and roll of the water down her back brought a sweet soft pain as it drove the dull ache from her injured body.
Naoto would have pinched at the bridge of her nose if not for the swelling around her eye. Time travel? Alternate universes? The coming of Nyx? His decision to let the world and all of those he cared for die? If the boy was to be believed and she dreaded that he was, it changed the nature of all she knew. She fought against accepting his words, but an uneasy acceptance had taken her heart. Makoto Yuki had proven himself to be many things, some truly horrendous, but as far as she could ascertain he was not a liar.
The water was becoming clear as it continued to swirl downward, but her mind was in disarray. Listening to the boy's answers and story was like falling into a mud of absurdity. Although she had fallen into a TV. Absurdity had lost its meaning in the same way she was losing her sense of reality. Her mind offered her the desperate hope that this could just be another one of her Grandfather's pranks and then it forced the shame she had been bottling upon her. Uncorking that bottle released the emotion. Naoto slammed off the faucet ending the soothing warmth and allowing the evaporation of water on her body to leave it cold.
She had been forced off a case. It was a disgrace. It was a stain on the Shirogane name that her father and grandfather had never known. She stepped out from the shower and covered herself in a white towel. She began to move for the door, but then shook her head. She needed to dress first, Makoto was waiting outside. She was so tired.
She dried herself passing the bright bruises with a soft towel and then cleared the condensation from her mirror. She put on a simple blue button up and slacks. Around her neck, she fastened a yellow tie. She stared at her image in the glass. The reflection was a cruel mockery of the detective she strove to be, but was not. How could she face her grandfather with this mark against her record?
She saw in her reflection behind the slowly growing fog her father's eyes. They were the last clear image she had of the man she revered. They were a soft grey. They were her eyes and the only trait she had inherited from the man. She stared at the body she hid beneath her male attire. Her father was sturdy, strongly built and tall. She was lithe, delicate and short, embarrassingly so. She had none of his strength nor his courage. She was nothing like the man she strove to emulate.
They were her grandfather's eyes as well. Her grandfather's face stared back. His face was sharp and masculine. Her face was soft and feminine. She had gained none of his wisdom nor his temperance. She did not deserve to have these eyes. Tears began to well in them. They fell and immediately she wiped them away in anger. Pity could be a kindness, but self-pity was a cowardice.
Still could she not have just a minute, a moment more?
Just one more minute of selfish self-pity. Tears continued to fall from the image in the mirror. The girl's throat tightened and relaxed in painful contraction as the reflection fought to silence its sobs. Her hands shot to her mouth holding back the choking cries. Just one moment more.
Naoto turned from the truth of the mirror. There were no more tears. Her throat coughed away its ache. She loosened the yellow tie around her neck and placed her favorite hat upon her damp hair. There was work to be done.
Papers and boxes and filing folders covered more of the floor than the carpet. Pencils and pens and books were stacked at every corner of the room. The small coffee table in the middle had eleven mugs, some still filled with cold coffee, and seven cups, not all of which were standing upright. The few spots of the table that were visible had noticeable water rings.
Makoto looked at the couch where the detective had told him that he could sit while she cleaned up. She was visibly shocked and understandably exhausted with the story he had told her, but still she could have realized that there was not a spot on the couch to sit. Water stained cardboard boxes claimed the seat he had been offered. He wondered if the couch had a blanket or a pillow and eventually found the blanket balled up in a corner beneath some books. It was becoming a game to him. The pillow, where was the pillow? It was on the stove, a groan escaped his lips.
Makoto wondered how it was possible for a detective to be such a slob. He was a tidy person and the entire apartment set him on edge. His hands were placed firmly within his pockets, as they were want to do, but his fingers fidgeted like spider legs set in motion and his spine was erect. If just a few items were moved around, then the room would be almost bearable. The game was becoming a battle. The television was a cheap thing, but why were there socks on top of it? What had happened to the remote? Enough! He would clean.
The door to the bathroom opened as the young detective stepped out from it. They stared at each other in confusion. Makoto saw the red veins that streaked out from the soft grey ring into the whites and recognized the sign for what it was, the detective had been crying. Naoto noticed the upright posture Makoto had taken and realized the boy's discomfort.
Naoto was the first to speak. "Is something wrong? You appear to have not moved from that spot since you first entered. And you're not slouching."
Makoto blinked once. "I didn't know where to step."
The red in the detective's eyes seemed to flow to her cheeks as the embarrassment set in. She shuffled around clearing items off the floor only to throw them to some pile across the room. Makoto wanted desperately to stop her. The frantic cleaning was somehow making an even greater mess. Finally, the detective looked back at him the blush of embarrassment still present and her eyes wide.
"I-I swear it is not usually this messy. I have been preoccupied with the case." She paused pushing back unpleasant feelings before composing herself. "Why did you not just sit? Please have a seat."
Makoto looked again at the couch she motioned too and fought back the grimace. "I wasn't sure I should move your things."
Her eyes widened again and her cheeks deepened in their hue as she noticed the boxes that sat on the cushions meant for people. She went to move them, but stopped when she heard a soft laugh that ended as quickly as it started. Makoto had the beginnings of a smile. Her eyes narrowed in anger. "Do not mistake hospitality for frivolity. I am letting you stay only because I have yet to solve this case."
"Sorry, it's just that I was looking for your remote and I just found it in a coffee mug."
Naoto brought her hat over her face to hide the emotions behind it. The hat muffled her voice as she spoke. "Would you like to clean up? I have fresh towels."
Makoto raised an eyebrow with a skepticism worthy of any detective.
"I. Have. Clean. Towels." The odd, but frequent frown returned to the detective's lips.
Makoto had turned away fully, a small smile finally revealed on his face. "Actually, I'd just like to sleep if you don't mind."
The detective nodded and found a blanket and pillow in a closet full of random clutter. She led him to a small guest room. It was cleaner than the living room. Boxes with endless files were stacked along the walls hiding them from Makoto. At the very least the spare futon was unobstructed and the small television in the room had a remote that was not holstered in a coffee mug.
The detective sighed and quietly said, "Do not say a word."
She stepped out of the room expecting another comment on her lack of orderliness, but Makoto surprised her with his words.
"Detective, thank you."
The door closed behind him and Naoto slid into her couch pushing aside the boxes. Her worries were forgotten for now. She pulled the remote from mug, set the television to a specific channel and opened her case files to make a new entry. The title was Makoto Yuki.
The gentle acceleration of the car awakened him to his dream. The scent of perfume drove the haze from his eyes and the sight of golden irises cleared his mind. Makoto Yuki was in the velvet room once more and he was not alone. Makoto had expected to see Igor, but instead he now focused on the shrinking yellow irises that disappeared behind narrowing eyes. He had expected Igor and not the woman with the fierce hawk-like eyes. Images of Elizabeth were drawn from the depth of his memory. The woman in front of him now was akin. The silver blonde hair was longer and the color of her eyes, those unworldly eyes could belong to no one else.
She had red painted lips and her smile was a snarl. "To think we would meet here and alone."
Makoto stared at Margaret in confusion and then defeat. This woman knew his secrets and had been injured by them. When he refused to speak, she glared. Withering beneath her gaze he felt his breath grow short. In another life, he had often felt the same around Elizabeth. The presence of the women in blue was oppressing and non-human, but with Elizabeth her kind wonder offered him comfort. Margaret was a different woman, however.
"It seems that fate would ask us to form a pact. Do you find this as displeasing as I do?" Margaret's asked, but did not wait for his response. "You have yet to accept a contract. You may have reawakened a portion of your former power, but if you do not sign my master will not be able to offer you his former services."
Makoto closed his eyes and raised his head to the ceiling of the limo. Another contract? He could see it in his mind once more. He remembered his first encounter with Pharos and then the last time he had seen Ryoji. Could signing another contract like that really save anyone? Doubt clouded his mind. What could he believe? He held his eyes shut tighter, knowing that when he opened them his path might remain unclear.
"Tch, or perhaps your heart still wishes to run?" Margaret shook her head angrily. "You could, if you wish. Doing so would doom those who fight with you once more. The detective has already been disgraced and tarnished. Though, perhaps you do not care for her fate. Your life is still your own after all."
Those last words were wrong. Makoto opened his eyes and saw the blue padded roof of the limo. It was a familiar blue that reminded him of a hat. His life was no longer his own. His path was clear and there was a different kind of contract he could sign. Makoto turned his gaze to Margaret and his mouth set in a grim line.
"The world likes to make monsters of its saints."
"And are you the saint made monster?" Margaret asked.
"No, I meant the detective," Makoto explained. "I will not sign your damn contract. But I will not let the detective fail. I made a promise to cooperate with her. Whether you want to help me or not doesn't matter. Does it? Or we would not be here. We're in the same car. You are wrong. Our lives are NOT our own."
"Insolence does not suit your face," Maragaret said. Her mouth was no longer set in a sneer and her voice had lost an edge. Instead she spoke with cold acceptance. "Very well I will help you for their sake."
14 March 2011
Makoto woke easily from his visit to the velvet room. It was early morning and the small alarm clock obscured by a small shoe read a digital blue that named the hour as 5:22am. A few turns under the covers of his comforter and screams into his pillow case told him that he would not be able to return to sleep. He rose to his feet feeling uncomfortable in the spare clothes the police department had offered him. His fury at being awake so early disappeared into a strong desire for a shower.
As he stretched his legs on the cluttered floor that he noticed a towel and a spare change of clothes near the door to his borrowed room. He picked up the note that sat upon the towel. It simply said they were clean. He gave a small snort and picked up the towel and clothes and made his way to the bathroom.
To his surprise, he found the detective sleeping softly with an open notebook resting upon her stomach slowly rising and falling with her breath. He wondered if she had been working on the case all night. The television was on, advertising a twenty-four-hour marathon of Phoenix Ranger Featherman R and playing old re-runs. Makoto raised an eyebrow at the television before walking quietly to the bathroom. His foot pressed on a jagged object and he withdrew it with a quiet curse hoping he had not woken the detective. When he noticed that she had not awakened he picked up the object he had stepped on.
It was an action figure of the blue Phoenix Ranger, Feather Swan. He gave a small smile at the toy and then the detective. A young boy in orange playing alongside a dog with mysterious red eyes graced his memory. He stopped smiling. Ken had given him a red Phoenix Ranger toy once. He gently placed it in the hand of the sleeping detective and went to shower.
He stepped from the bathroom still finding the detective asleep. He toweled off the last drips of water from his hair. Despite himself he began rearranging the room. He cleaned the random trinkets from the floor placing them in free cardboard boxes. He took all the silverware and coffee mugs to the sink and began to wash them.
"It's just so gross in here," Makoto sighed as he took what little dish soap was left and began to scrub quietly.
His stomach began to growl softly as he finished drying the last coffee mug. He wondered if the detective had anything to eat, but stopped short of opening the fridge when he saw another note. It read, "I will most likely be gone before you wake up. Feel free to eat what I have available."
Makoto took that as an invitation to explore the contents of the fridge. He found little there. Expired milk, butter, a few eggs, some produce and bread were the its only contents. Still he began to cook. He melted the butter and then mixed the eggs and produce together to make an omelet. He started the coffee maker for a few cups and toasted the bread.
The smell of food finally woke the detective. Naoto groggily wiped at her eyes with the hand holding the blue Phoenix Ranger and yawned quietly. After a moment of surprise, she remembered her new roommate.
"Do you always wake so early?"
"Couldn't sleep," Makoto apologized. "Sorry if I woke you. Besides, wouldn't want to miss a Phoenix Ranger marathon."
"Ah um yes," Naoto stammered. "I must have fallen asleep on the remote and changed the channel."
Makoto blinked at her in a way that signaled his disbelief. "You could change the channel now. I think you have the remote in your hand."
"Oh… right."
Makoto felt some small guilt at the trick he had played, but that guilt was washed away by the comedy of the ensuing scene. The detective raised the Feather Swan toy at the television attempting to change the channel and then realized what she was holding. The action figure went soaring through the air as the detective made a noise resembling a mortified squeak. The kind of sound a person makes when they find a spider on their shoulder.
"Feather Swan!" Naoto yelled running to pick up the hurled toy. She realized her reaction as she picked up the action figure and then turned quickly to the snickering boy who was now her new roommate. "I used to watch this show when I was younger. This toy was a gift from my grandfather it has nostalgic value. This is all just a coincidence. I wasn't watching Phoenix Ranger last night."
"Pretty sure the blue one is Feather Falcon?" Makoto said.
"That's the black one!"
Makoto raised a brown and offered her a look of almost-amusement. Her face turned cherry-red in embarrassment contrasting the deep dark blue of her short hair.
Makoto decided it would be dangerous to tease her further and said, "Would you like an omelet and toast. Perhaps some coffee?"
"You have an odd way of distracting one from their troubles," Naoto said shaking her head. "I'll take some coffee."
The detective sat at the table across from him as he brought over the coffee pot.
"You didn't have to wash my dishes," Naoto sighed.
"There wasn't anything clean to eat on."
The glare he received in return told him not to speak further. He made to pour her the warm dark liquid, but stopped when she held out her hand. The detective put in cream and one sugar cube into the mug first before pouring the coffee.
"You put the sugar and milk in first?" Makoto asked interested in the odd style of preparation and pretending not to notice the five-extra sugar cubes the detective snuck into her mug.
"Mixes as you pour, more efficient," Naoto explained taking a long drink from the mug and releasing a satisfied breath as she set the mug back down. She stared at him with inquisitive eyes that demanded answers. "Will you be staying?"
Makoto thought he heard uncertainty in the detective's voice and remembered his dream. His life was not his own. "Would you want my help if I did? You know what I have done detective."
"Did you really let everyone die for," Naoto stopped herself. It did not matter. "Your actions happened in another time in another world and in a manner, I cannot verify. In addition, I am no judge. My job is to catch criminals and there is a murderer free that must be stopped. To do that I need your abilities. My feelings about your past do not matter. If you care at all for the suffering of others then please help me."
A small but genuine smile graced his face. It was the expression he hid from the world, but for the few moments when it truly deserved it. Once more Makoto felt shame in the face of the detective's justice.
"You are a good person detective. It's very humbling and in many ways, I wish I was more like you. Let's make a contract," Makoto offered with kindness and admiration in his eyes. "I swear that I will serve you to the end of this case. I do not have the motivation to fight for people. But I can fight for you. Let's catch this killer together."
Naoto took his offered hand in awkward shyness. Her face was a soft red. She was embarrassed not out of shame, but the embarrassed in the way that comes when hearing someone speak in a forthright manner.
Makoto looked away from the detective and to his own mug. He poured the cream and sugar first and then the coffee. Together the elements swirled becoming one and something new. It was a different way to mix the drink, the way she had just shown him. He handed the detective a piece of toast and she accepted with a nod. The fool would aid the detective. He would follow the example of another.
Thou art I… And I art thou…
Thou hast established a new bond…
It brings thee closer to the truth…
Thine life is not thine own…
It belongs to the turning Wheel of Fortune…
For alongside time exists fate, the bearer of cruelty…