Chapter 10 – The Morning After
"Sweet Ares, lower your sword, Jadeite. Why are you doing this? Why?!"
"Do you suppose, fire senshi, that you'll bleed as red as you burn? Let's find out..."
"MARS FLAME SNIPER!"
A muffled shriek followed by agonized whimpering from a sleeping Rei startled Makoto out of her own uneasy rest and she tensed, confused and scared for a moment, until realization of where she was set in. She was lying on the floor of the Mizuno living room where they'd crashed after the night's disturbing turn of events. Across the room she could see Usagi, long silver blonde pigtails draped over the arm rests of the navy wing chair she had fallen asleep in, snoring soundly with a faint trickle of drool running down her chin. Luna lay in her lap like a boneless thing, a black fur pelt that was snoozing as well.
Makoto suspected that nothing less than an atomic blast would rouse the slumbering princess and guardian at the moment, so lost were they both in the Land of Nod. Of Ami and Minako or Artemis there was no sign, but Ami's bedroom door was shut, so Makoto assumed that she was asleep. Minako and Artemis were probably still back at Rei's temple, guarding it like they'd promised, she thought.
Clawing at the blanket that had wrapped itself around her like a suffocating straight jacket, Makoto finally wriggled free and sighed in relief at finally feeling unbound. Cautiously she approached Rei, who lay on the sofa, curled in a cramped fetal position, moaning softly with tears running down her face and soaking into her pillow.
"Hey…Rei-chan," Makoto whispered, poking her. "Wake up, Rei-chan. You're having a nightmare."
The raven-haired girl thrashed wildly and Makoto leapt back to avoid getting smacked by flailing hands. As Rei subsided, she drew near again and gave her a shake.
"Wake up!" hissed Makoto firmly. "Kaidou-san and your dad are here for you."
"Tell'm both to go to he…," groaned Rei, her long sooty lashes slowly fluttering up to reveal dew-touched violet eyes that were wide with mingled hurt, confusion and anger. "Huh…wha? Mako-chan? Kaidou? My dad? But this is Ami-chan's house…"
Makoto shrugged philosophically. "Sorry. But it was the only thing I could think of that would wake you up and not risk you belting me. You were caught in the grip of a nightmare, Rei-chan, and wouldn't wake up." Deep emerald eyes gleamed with concern for her friend. "Are you okay now? I can make us some tea."
Slowly Rei-sat up, dabbing wonderingly at the salty tracks tears had made on her cheeks. "Thanks for the offer, Mako-chan, but I don't think I could stomach it right now."
To Makoto's eyes, she did look faintly green and definitely ill at ease. The brunette frowned, placing a hand on Rei's arm. "Do you want to tell me about it?"
Eyes downcast, Rei shook her head and shoved tangled ebony hair back from her wan face. "I know you'd understand, Mako-chan, but I…I just can't. At least not right now."
Impulsively, Makoto enveloped the smaller woman in a warm hug. "I can get that."
Rei finally managed a bit of a weak smile. "You know, Mako-chan…I think you might be the only one right now who does." Hitching her blanket around her shoulders, she glanced over at the window. The privacy shades were pulled, cloaking most of the room in darkness, but faint hints of light seeped in around the edges. "What time is it?"
Verdigris and mulberry eyes sought out the oversized clock which decorated the living room wall. Makoto's eyes rounded in horror as she read the display. "Oh my gods," she gasped, "is that right? If so, I've got a class in less than twenty minutes. And my knife kit and coat and all my supplies are still back at my dorm. I've got to run or Yamamoto Sensei will skin me with my own fillet knife!"
Snatching up her shoes, Makoto somehow slid into them on the run. Racing out the door pell-mell, Makoto called back to Rei over her shoulder. "Tell Usagi and Ami that if they need to find me, I should be back at my dorm by four o'clock. Oh gods, I'm so late!"
The loud banging of the front door made Usagi twitch, but ultimately failed to rouse the sleeping princess. Luna, however, blinked, yawned, and gave a long feline stretch. Rei had never before seen a cat wipe the sleep from its eyes, and watched bemused as Luna proceeded to do just that.
"Morning…," murmured the feline.
"Good morning," said Rei back. "Do you want me to raid Ami-chan's kitchen for some canned tuna or something?"
"That would be nice," Luna said with a soft purr at the prospect, following Rei into the Mizuno kitchen. "A can of salmon would be even better. I do love a nice pink salmon but Usagi's mom will insist on serving me that processed cat food garbage instead. It's practically inedible. If I didn't make Usagi save me bits from her dinner…and let me tell you, that's a tough one to enforce."
The plump feline went silent, frowning at the thought. Coppery eyes peered intently at Rei who was rummaging through the unfamiliar kitchen. "I can't find any tuna or salmon…," admitted the young woman with a grimace. "There are some anchovies, though." She held out the flat can hopefully.
"They'll do," Luna said with a wistful sigh, watching as Rei opened the can and again began rooting through cabinets until she found the one in which the Mizunos stored their dishes. Picking out the fish and laying them on a saucer, Rei placed the dish on the table for Luna before tossing the empty can into the waste basket and rinsing her hands clean.
"Breakfast is served."
"Itadakimasu!" Luna was busy inhaling the small fish with the air of a starving beast, her teeth crunching the small, pliable bones happily. She attacked them with enough gusto that Rei felt slightly sick again. She turned away, swallowing hard.
"Oh, Artemis is going to kick himself when he hears he missed this breakfast. He's got it even worse than I do. Minako, when she remembers to feed him, feeds him kibble." Luna, hearing no answer, lifted her dark head, fishy-scented oil dripping from long whiskers, and peered at Rei in concern. "Are you okay this morning, Rei-chan?"
"Finish your fish," insisted the young woman, slumping into a chair at the dining table. "We'll talk afterward. And then we can decide what to do next. Oh god, Luna…that man knows where 'Jii-chan and I live."
Luna didn't need to be told twice, gobbling up the remaining anchovies in a twinkling of an eye, but all decisions wound up being put on hold anyway as a bleary-eyed Usagi, who was constitutionally unable to sleep while others were eating anything, came out in search of food, her stomach rumbling. She didn't seem impressed, however, as she eyed the fish oil smeared saucer and pinched her nose.
"What's that horrible stench?"
Makoto had totally expected the wicked tongue lashing she'd gotten when she skidded into her Fundamentals of Catering and Presentation class red-faced, sweating and out of breath, a full ten minutes late. She'd run all the way back to the college, raced to her dorm ignoring Chryso-san's nasty remarks (didn't the damned woman ever go to class anyhow?), flung off her sweater dress from the party and flung on her working whites and chef's coat, snatched up her knife bag and bolted for class, but there was no helping it. She was late, late, late. And Chef Yamamoto, aka Yamamoto Sensei, had let her have it. All she could do was stand there, head respectfully bowed, and let him vent his temper on her. In fact she'd been rather surprised that she'd gotten off as lightly as she had. He hadn't vowed to dock points off her that day. Makoto could only be relieved.
The relief was short lived when he began hovering near her section, eyeing her work more closely than he ever had before. In fact it flustered her so badly, she slipped and nicked herself with her knife.
"Always know where the sharp end is pointing, Kino-san," he reproved, making Makoto blush unhappily.
"Yes, Sensei," she muttered, cleaning and bandaging her wound.
She became only more unhappy when he later came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. With his hands directly over hers, guiding her knife, he watched her julienne vegetables with rapid precision. Never before had he done such a thing and it rendered Makoto, for once, completely unable to slip into the pleasant zone she usually occupied when cooking.
Makoto silently groaned, biting her lip as she noticed a few of her male classmates whispering amongst themselves. It didn't take a genius to figure out in what gutter their thoughts were splashing. She decided she infinitely preferred it when the only apparent interest the chef had taken in her was to yell at her (he always yelled) that her pastry handling was excellent and her filleting technique with fish was good, but that her radish roses were a pure disgrace. That she could live with, though she disagreed about the radish roses.
When, oh when, was the miserable class going to end?
It seemed to drag on for an eternity, but the clock finally granted Makoto her freedom. She scrupulously cleaned her knives in grim silence as her fellow students, virtually all men, smirked knowingly (or at least it seemed that way) at her. Finally one of them, a cocky little twerp with a well known bad attitude toward women in general and women in the culinary business in particular, said what she knew at least some of them had been thinking.
"So, Kino-san, is that the way you've been getting your good reviews from Sensei all this time? he said, his eyes dropping contemptuously to her chest. "Guess you must've been late getting out of his bed this morning."
Letting out a low growl, Makoto held up one of her knives, gleaming and razor-sharp. "Do you want to eat this, Kentaro baka, or do you plan on shutting up your filthy, misogynistic mouth? Either way is acceptable to me."
He drew back fast, apparently convinced that she might just follow through on her threat, though he managed one final sneer. Makoto sagged back against the counter and slammed her fist down onto it so hard she rattled bowls at the other end and she felt the sting radiate up her arm. This sort of thing could hurt her future career, since the culinary world was small and reputation was so very important. Gathering up her knife kit with an icy scowl, she left the classroom.
Her mood was not improved when she spotted someone in the corridor, who'd evidently been waiting for her for some time.
"Aaaargh!" she yelped as a hand caught hers, innocently pressing against her small cut. It wasn't pain, that made her cry out, but she needed to release her anger and tension somehow and it was as good an excuse as any.
"Good afternoon to you too, angel," Neil said with a winning smile, giving her a lazy and appreciative once over. Makoto, yanking her hand back, was stunned to realize that for whatever reason and in spite of everything, his look didn't make her feel dirty in the way that Yamamoto Sensei or the woman hater's had. The thought, however, wasn't a particularly happy one, however, given what she'd remembered of him the night before. It was just one more thing to confuse and fluster her today, after the first flash of righteous anger had passed. Why in the hell was she so susceptible to him, even now? Why did he look so good when he wasn't? It wasn't fair!
His dark azure eyes were soft as he asked her, "How was class?" It was not, under the circumstances, the best question he could have asked that day, though he'd had no way to know it.
Makoto went rigid, clutching her knife kit like it was both sword and buckler. Her face crimsoned with renewed anger. "I want nothing to do with you. Please go away before I'm forced to fry you!"
'I'd like to see you try,' Neil thought, fingering the gaily wrapped package he held.
He still smiled, though it now seemed slightly forced, his usual charming nonchalance failing miserably in the face of her obvious anger. Still, he was making a game effort to not take her hurtful words too personally. Evidently Mercury hadn't fixed the problem. Or at least not entirely.
'At least she isn't trying actively to kill me,' he thought, trying hard to look on the positive side. If there was one.
"Go away?" he protested. "I don't think so. I brought you a gift. Something I knew you'd love, Li."
"How dare you? You know nothing about me!" Makoto looked murderous. "For starters, my name is Makoto. Ma-ko-to. And for the record, Lita is DEAD." She shot him a highly significant look and he flinched.
"Look, I don't know what you think I did, sweetheart, but if you'd just tell me. I'd never hurt you…" he began, looking at her almost pleadingly. Makoto felt her heart flutter unsteadily and she stumbled back, bracing herself against the wall. Glaring at him, she steeled her heart by forcing herself to remember the feel of cold laughter and colder steel, followed by hot blood. Her blood. Anger was better than breaking down in front of him entirely.
"You already did," Makoto sniffed, waving her bandaged hand before him, making him blink as he noticed it for the first time. "I'm not explaining anything. I'm leaving!"
"Angel…"
She spun to leave, letting out a cry when his hand closed on her wrist and she felt something being forced into the palm of her uninjured hand. "NO! LET GO!" she snarled ferociously, swinging her knife bag toward his ribs. Still slightly bruised from their altercation the night before, he danced back from the swing, freeing her wrist.
Sadly, he looked at her. "I'll go now, angel, because I can see you're upset. But…," his face morphed into a determined mask, though his eyes still remained heartrendingly sorrowful, "We were meant to be together, angel. I know it took some time then and it'll take some time to adjust now, but sometime soon you'll tell me…because I am not giving up on us."
Makoto's fist tightened around the package he'd shoved into her hand and she shook her head vigorously, as much to convince herself as him. "No. No. There is no us, Neil...Nephrite…and there never will be."
She shot past him before he could say anything more and fled down the back stairs as if all the hounds of hell were at her heels, the tears stinging her eyes. Only when she'd convinced herself that she'd lost him did she finally stop running and start to double back across campus toward her dorm room. Lost in her own anguish, she never noticed the green-eyed man following her, his face a study in concentration as he jotted down a few notes on a notepad he yanked from his pocket.
Realizing that one of her dorm mates, who'd been exiting as she entered, was giving her head a funny look, Makoto groaned and jerked off the none too attractive hairnet she'd forgotten she'd been wearing, shoving it deep into her coat pocket. She took a moment too, to swipe away the tears. There was no need in giving Chryso-san, who'd taunted her before about such omissions before, ammunition.
Chryso Beryl's weird orangey eyes were quick to spot any oddities in one's appearance or manner, the better to exploit them for her own amusement. Makoto had been a frequent target of the woman's viperous tongue and had rarely come out on top. Therefore, she tried to avoid being noticed at all. Today, however, Chryso-san had been actively searching for her.
"That's a pretty cheap looking fall," sniffed the older woman, clucking her tongue and eyeing Makoto's cascading ponytail. Not for the first time while in her presence, Makoto was reminded of a snake scenting the wind for prey by flicking out its tongue. Actually, Beryl had a rather toxic, serpentine air about her that usually gave Makoto the creeps. Today it just made her mad…especially when she suggested, "You ought to get rid of that hair piece."
"Not that it's any of your business, Chryso-san, but it's my real hair."
"Right…" Sarcasm dripped like venom from the red-head's tongue.
"More real than the bottle yours came from," Makoto sniped with an acid smile, giving into the low urge to retaliate that she'd avoided in the past. Beryl's eyes flashed as the shot hit home.
A comment about her figure being more real than Beryl's too was on the tip of Makoto's tongue when a hesitant voice stopped her.
"Mako-chan?"
"Oh Ami-chan." Makoto flushed, embarrassed at being caught at her worst. "Let's go up to my room." She shot Beryl a nasty look. "We'll have so much more privacy to talk up there."
Beryl glowered at her, but hesitated to attack in front of witnesses. "You will let me know if you're going to be out all night again, won't you?" she said, managing a moderately convincing note of concern, all the while implying Makoto was a tart who'd been out on the tiles.
"You bet, Chryso-san," Makoto said with a smirk. At least in this instance, the annoying woman would get no satisfaction since Ami knew full well where Makoto had been. She turned to Ami, smiling sweetly. "Thanks for putting us up for the night after Minako-chan's Valentine's Day bash. I know I appreciated it and I'm sure Rei-chan and Usagi-chan did too. It's been a long time since the gang had a friendly pajama party."
Ami blinked, but nodded uncertainly, her eyes fixed on the strange woman. Makoto's words had, for some reason, caused her RA to look fit to chew tacks. "It was no problem. Shall we go, Mako-chan?" the petite girl urged.
"Of course. Ja ne, Chryso-san."
The sound of a slamming door was the only reply, making Makoto snicker as she and Ami climbed the stairs to her room. "That was fun. Thanks for showing up. You helped me spike her guns."
"Your residence advisor. She's…," Ami groped for words, "…different."
"She's a bitch," Makoto said bluntly, shoving her key into the lock and opening her door. "No, now don't give me that wide-eyed look, Ami-chan. She really is one. That's even what the girls in this place call her. Beryl the Bitch. Because she enjoys taking shots off of people for spite. Ignore her. I try to most of the time, but she got on my last nerve today, which is why you saw that awful catty display. Sorry."
Dropping her knife kit and the gift-wrapped package that Neil had given her on the desk, Makoto urged Ami to take the one chair in the tiny room while she shed her coat before dropping to sit on the bed. "Make yourself comfortab…ouch!"
Confused, Makoto bounded to her feet, relieving the pressure on her scalp where her hair had been pulled taut when she sat. "What on earth?"
"What's the matter, Mako-chan?" At the pained yelp, Ami had glanced over to see Makoto holding the end of her ponytail in her hand, looking stunned.
In numb tones, Makoto spoke. "Ami-chan…how long would you say my hair is? I mean in the ponytail."
"Um…," Ami looked at the wavy red-brown mass consideringly. "To the top of your thighs, I guess."
"And what color would you say the ends are?"
"Kind of greenish, but I don't understa…"
Makoto paled alarmingly. "I was afraid you'd say that. Ami, I know you don't pay attention to such things, but my hair was barely to the middle of my back last night and very, very NOT GREEN. And I didn't dye it. No wonder Chryso-san thought I was wearing a crummy hair piece. What's going on? How can my hair have grown this long and turned green in just one night?!"
"Calm down Mako-chan," Ami said briskly, hopping to her feet and taking a lock of her friend's hair in her hand, peering at it. "We'll find out what's happening. I might have to cut some of it, though, to analyze. And maybe some blood later, if you wouldn't mind."
Nervously, Makoto twisted her hands together. "If you've got to, Ami-chan, then fine. Whatever you need. Take the hair now." She reached for the scissors in her desk caddy, ready to hack off everything that was green and make her hair back to normal with one slice.
"Hold up." Ami grabbed the scissors away. "Don't go nuts on me, Mako-chan. I just need one little piece, not half your head, but I need to cut it from close to the scalp so I can analyze the full length of it. I won't cut too much, though. I don't think you'll even notice the cut piece since yours is so thick and curly."
"Just do it, please," Makoto moaned, staring at herself in the mirror she'd mounted to the back of her door. "I'm going to put it up because it's freaking me out to see it like this."
There was a soft snipping sound as the scissors did their work, leaving Ami in possession of a long curling lock of hair that was a rich shade of auburn except for the last ten centimeters or so, which were of a definite green cast. "Okay," Ami said, winding the strands around her finger. If nothing else, they felt normal. She tucked the hair away in her subspace pocket for future analysis. "I'll look at them tonight. Hopefully I'll have some answers for you tomorrow. I can sneak in and use the lab facilities if I have to."
"Thank you, Ami-chan," Makoto said fervently, quickly braiding her hair to put it up into a rough bun on the back of her head so she wouldn't have to look at it. "This is too weird on top of everything that happened last night. Do you know that he even had the gall to approach me today after class, as if nothing had happened?"
"Who? Nephrite? I mean, Sterne-san?"
"Yes," Makoto hissed. "He's trying to play innocent but I remember what he did and he can't fool me." She glared at the present on her desk. "No matter how many gifts he tries to buy me off with. I won't play his game again."
"What is it?"
"I don't know," growled Makoto, twining her braid into a top knot and hiding the green edges beneath her scrunchie, "and I don't care."
"May I open it, then?" Ami's fingertips hovered over the ribbon.
"It may not be safe. You know what he did…" Makoto bit her lip. "I couldn't stand it if you were to get hurt because of something meant for me."
"I'll be careful," Ami assured her, picking up the package and shaking it gently. The package rustled invitingly. "It doesn't sound dangerous. But I'll scan it first."
Reaching into her bag she pulled out the mini-computer she'd cunningly disguised as a PDA. She ran a quick scan, giving the results a cursory glance. "Whatever's inside, it's got a power, but it's not malevolent. It's familiar. I think you'd better open it, Mako-chan. Not me."
A hint of uncertainty shadowed Makoto's green gaze as she eyed the bright, clumsily wrapped package like she would a poisonous snake, but finally with a bit more urging from her friend, she agreed to open it. Slowly she picked up the package and ripped into the paper. It fell away revealing a small box, which she opened dubiously. It was filled with wads of crumpled tissue paper.
"If this is his idea of a joke," Makoto muttered, plunging her hand fully into the box. She broke off with a gasp as her fingers touched metal which pulsed and sizzled warmly, like it was welcoming her back after an absence.
"Oh sweet Zeus," she muttered, tossing away the topmost pieces of protective padding to reveal the item carefully resting in its tissue paper nest. She lifted it out, gasping as a late afternoon sunbeam caught it, making the gold and emerald circlet gleam richly in the small room. "It's my tiara."
Troubled green eyes sought out compassionate cobalt. "Ami, why would he give me back the one thing he knows I could most easily use to harm him? He was far safer when I didn't have it, and I hadn't even realized it was gone. He had to know that. So why did he do this?" Makoto clutched the tiara to her breast, just over her heart, which felt like it was breaking. "I just don't understand…"