"It's going to hit pretty soon," Makoto says, gazing out the window of her apartment at the leaden sky.
The weather's taken the beginnings of an ugly turn thanks to the freak storm that's churned up seemingly out of nowhere over the Pacific. Outside it's gusty and heavily overcast, and the wind has a cold bite to it that makes people find reasons not to linger outdoors if they can help it. Makoto's little apartment, however, is bright and peaceful as usual, currently fragrant with the lemongrass that she just a few moments ago finished chopping and dumped into her stockpot. A big batch of broth will keep for a good few days.
It never hurts to be prepared.
There are also, of course, cookies in the jar and whatever warm beverage Ami prefers. Looking away from the window, Mako turns to crack a lopsided smile at her friend. "You can tell, too, right? That's not a normal storm."
Ami came over as promised, but she's bundled heavier than usual. Her blue peacoat was buttoned all the way to the top, and she even wore a scarf. And forget the cute tights; Ami is in thick yoga pants and even has on fluffy boots. This is serious cold weather coming, and she is a bit of a whiner.
Once inside, Ami's chattering teeth were gladly silenced by a warm mug of tea and a friendly hug. She ditched the scarf and coat and curled up by Mikoto's coffee table to savor the warmth from her tea.
"It's Walpurgisnacht," Ami observes quietly, agreeing fully with Makoto's observations. "Or at least, that's what the Puella would have us believe. I have no reason to mistrust them on this issue."
She's laid her cutting board out on the kitchen island so she can face Ami while she works. The wind against her windows almost seems to have a voice, a distant rattling of leaf-stripped branches: beware, beware. The weight of the incoming storm has her too keyed up to sit still.
"Yeah," she says, methodically crushing peeled cloves of garlic under the flat of her knife, one at a time. "It's almost here." The garlic follows the lemongrass into the stockpot, and then Mako breathes out a sigh and looks to Ami again, faintly apologetic. "The timing's the worst, but can I ask you for a favor, Ami-chan?"
The bluenette tilts her head in surprise at Makoto's question. She looks up from her tea mug curiously, studying her friend in thought. She takes another sip of her tea, then sets the mug down and rolls forward onto her thick-socked feet.
Padding towards the kitchen, Ami leans against the counter nearby and smiles at Makoto. "Always," Ami says at length. "What do you need? I'll do my best."
"You might not need to do much," Makoto says, smiling a little in self-deprecation. "Definitely not right away. It might not come to anything at all." Her voice lacks conviction when she says it, though. Seeming distracted, she picks up a piece of ginger root, toys with it while the stockpot steams behind her on the stovetop.
"Do you remember Masato Sanjouin-san?"
Ami arches a brow, and a slow smile creeps across her features. "Tennis coach, right?" she asks her friend curiously. "He was cute, as I recall. Although a little old for you. But about five or ten years from now he won't be." Ami's voice turns singsong on this note.
"I remember him, yes," Ami says agreeably. "What about him?"
"Hey," Mako protests weakly, looking away and turning a little pink in the face at Ami's teasing. It's not like she can really argue with anything that her friend has said.
Leaving off fidgeting with the ginger, she sets it down on the cutting board; slicing it gives her something to focus on that isn't how awkward she feels right now. "...I didn't tell you guys about this because it's embarrassing to admit it, but for a while there he had me convinced that he was Tuxedo Kamen."
Ami opens her mouth, then closes it and furrows her brow. There are a lot of implications in that simple statement, and the bluenette takes a bit of time to process them all. If Masato Sanjouin led Makoto believe he was Tuxedo Kamen, then he probably knows Tuxedo Kamen exists. He probably also knows that magic is real, and possibly has a connection to the past.
More importantly, if he didn't dissuade Makoto of the notion, then he either didn't know she had come to that conclusion, decided deceiving her was the correct course, or was, himself, deceived into believing it.
Of course, there's the perfectly mundane option that he was just trying to impress the brunette. But Ami has recently come to the conclusion that while corellation does not equal causation, it sure as heck implies it a lot of the time.
"I see," Ami says as her thoughts slowly coalesce. "What made you think that?"
Makoto's lips press together, a flat line. "I don't really want to go over the whole thing," she says, eyes steady on what she's doing. the knife thunks audibly against the board with the sudden energy that comes into her movements as she remembers how credulous she was. "Looking back I don't think he actually said the name out loud, but he sure hinted all the way around it. I didn't figure it out until Mamoru-san was staying here and I caught him - Mamoru-san - trying to sneak back in after helping us in a fight, and then I realized how stupid I'd been."
She sets the knife down, collects the sliced ginger and turns away toward the stockpot. "Mamoru-san knew him, too. Sanjouin-san had been asking him questions, concerned about how often he was ending up in the hospital, telling him to come to him for help if he needed it... this was all around that time." When Mamoru seemed to be getting energy-drained about once a week, basically.
Even that little tidbit is telling. Ami frowns just faintly, but once more she takes her time to dwell on implications before she reponds.
Perhaps an eager reporter who was following Mamoru around? More likely someone magical and with the ability to sense what Tuxedo Kamen was doing. yet still, why would he be drawn to Mamoru and not to the real Tuxedo Kamen?
On the other hand ... "Mmmm, that's interesting," Ami agrees quietly, thoughtful. "But why bring it up now? We haven't seen Sanjouin-san in some time, right?"
Mako's shoulders hitch just a little at the question, and she stays turned around facing the stove for longer than she really needs to, fussing with the contents of the stockpot. SO AWKWARD. "The thing is--"
No, this won't work. Reluctantly, Makoto turns around to face Ami directly and meet her eyes again. "I was so angry when I figured out he'd tricked me, but... Mamoru-san said he might've been trying to work up to asking me for help. That even with he was Dark Kingdom, he felt like Sanjouin-san wasn't all bad. And maybe it's just wishful thinking but Mamoru-san's been right about this kind of thing before--"
She cuts herself off there, takes a deep breath. "So the other day I ambushed Kunzite on the Infinity campus to ask him about it."
"Jadeite," Ami murmurs thoughtfully, ticking off a finger, "now cured and living in Moon's attic. Or maybe he's in the new apartment; I'm never sure." She ticks a second finger, "Kunzite is hanging in there, but he's literally been replaced with dark energy and is holding himself together through psychic stubornness. Zoisite is busy hunting for the Crystal, and acting like a spoiled two year old."
Which leaves, "... we never did learn what happened to Nephrite." Pause. "Not until this past weekend, when Usagi-chan had me come and put Kunzite in another bubble. Trapped in a Witch's Labyrinth for four months," Ami notes quietly. "Do you think ..."
By the reaction that flashes across Makoto's face, surprise to comprehension to uncertainty, Makoto did not in fact think. At least not until Ami raised the implied question, just now.
She begins to consider, then just as quickly shakes her head. "I don't know. Maybe. Remember, for a while I thought Mamoru-san was Nephrite." Which retroactively probably makes more sense from Ami's side of things given what Makoto has just told her about thinking that Sanjouin was Tuxedo Kamen. "I don't want to jump to any conclusions yet."
Newly focused, Makoto begins briskly peeling the papery skins off of some shallots. "Whether he is or not," she says, "Kunzite went to a lot of trouble to taunt me into punching him so that he could get a chance to ask me to free Sanjouin-san from Beryl's control."
"Kunzite has been going to a lot of trouble to get us to free all of his brothers," Ami notes to Makoto quietly. "If he has done the same for Masato Sanjouin, then I suspect Sanjouin is, in some way, connected to the generals. Whether he is Nephrite or not I don't know, but ..." she trails off.
Because the evidence is awfully compelling. Ami takes a deep breath, then sets aside her analysis for later. It's important, but not something she can work with right now. "So what's the favor?" Ami asks, curiously.
"The favor..." Makoto trails off, studiously focused on peeling shallots. Only after the skins have been deposited in the kitchen garbage can does Mako face Ami squarely, settled into her resolve now. "I'd like for you to leave this to me for right now. There's so much going on already... Walpurgis whatever, and Mamoru-san, and finding the Silver Crystal... things that I wouldn't even know where to start on. It's more important for you to focus on solving the really big problems. At least until we know more."
Until she gets the chance to see him again. Until she gets the chance to talk to him, to ask him why he lied.
Calm and careful, she places a shallot on the cutting board, picks up the knife. "But," Mako says as she begins slicing, "I want you to know what's going on. I don't know what'll happen when I see him, but I'm sure he'll try to deceive me again. If I start acting weird, or if it seems like I'm about to make a big mistake... if you're looking out for me, I know that you'll catch it before it goes too far."
Ami grimaces at that request. Asking her not to poke at a puzzle is like asking a fish not to swim in the water. But still, it's pretty obvious that Makoto has some emotional investment. On the one hand, allowing her friend to face her own demons is something Ami believes in. On the other hand, emotions get in the way of clear and sound judgement.
The bluenette lets out a little sigh at the request, then banishes her thoughts with a wave of the hand. Turning away, she returns to her mug of tea and lifts it, then asks, "Does Usagi-chan know?"
Over the cutting board, Makoto shakes her head. "Not yet." The shallots are beginning to get to her; she blinks stinging eyes and keeps slicing. "It's not that I want to keep it a secret from her - from anyone - but I haven't even heard that anybody's seen him in town, and Usagi-chan's got a lot to handle as it is."
She sighs a little herself, scooping the sliced shallot into the stockpot and then taking a moment to duck her head and press the crook of her arm over her eyes, as though it'll help. After a bit of blinking, she looks back to Ami. "Do you think I should I just go ahead and tell her?"
There, Ami has no hesitation. "Yes, I do. I won't touch this unless Moon asks me to," she promises Makoto. "But anything that could put you in danger puts us all in danger. I want you to be able to look into this," Ami says quietly. "I want you to figure out whatever it is between you and Sanjouin-san. But ..." and now she hesitates. Ami's voice softens a little as she returns to the thought a moment later, "But I don't want you to get hurt, Mako-chan."
"I know." At this, Makoto smiles, warm despite the onion tears. "That's why I'm asking you to have my back, and stop me if it looks like I'm going to do something stupid. That's the favor that I'm asking you for."
Her smile turns rueful as she looks back down at the cutting board. "I know I'm being selfish," she says quietly. "I'll probably get hurt again, too. But I have to know, Ami-chan. I can't leave this alone. If I did... I'm sure I'd never stop wondering about it."
Ami finishes her tea, then moves towards the kitchen to place the mug back on the counter. She's almost immediately struck by the powerful shallots, and she grimaces, tearing up.
"I know," she says to Makoto quietly, making odd faces with her nose and mouth as she tries to get that feeling out of her eyes. Ow ow ow it burns. "I'll keep an eye on you. As long as I can keep them open, geeze onions are awful."
The laugh that bubbles up out of Makoto is surprised enough that it verges on a yelp. "Sorry! I'm almost done with them, I promise. Some kinds of onion aren't so bad, but shallots are terrible." By now her own eyes are stinging badly enough that tears are leaking down her cheeks, but there's nothing much to be done about it except finish slicing the last one and get the pieces into the stockpot. And then promptly wash the knife, the board, and her hands in the kitchen sink.
"Sorry," she says over the sound of the faucet running, intensely apologetic now. "I should've warned you not to come over here while I was doing that."
Ami wipes at her eyes as she moves back to the couch and claims a seat. "Eugh," she mumbles. "I will never understand your fascination with cooking," she notes, as she leans over to grab a cookie. "It seems like so much work, and you ought to have on goggles for half of this stuff, but you never wear them." But. "I will appreciate the end products, though," she notes, before stuffing the cookie in her mouth.
"It's soothing!" Makoto protests cheerfully, straightening up from the sink with her bangs clinging to her face after splashing some cold water in her eyes. "I like seeing a dish come together one step at a time."
She reaches up to rake the wet hair back from her eyes, then turns to select a different knife from the knife block. The smaller knife she's chosen makes short work of a pair of yellow tomatos, the chunks of which follow everything else into the stockpot. "And when I'm done," Mako adds as she sets the lid onto the pot, "I have something delicious to show for it and share with my friends."
"You're adorable," Ami notes to Makoto with a faint smile of amusement. She sighs and reaches out for her tablet. "Just be safe, please?" she begs her friend. "I don't want to have to beat you up because you're mind controlled or something."
"I'll be careful, I promise." After setting her eggtimer, Makoto takes a few moments to wash up and set the knives and cutting board out to dry. Then, drying her hands on a clean towel, she comes out of the kitchenette to where Ami is sitting. "If you want me to, I'll even text you whenever I meet him. If I meet him." Smiling wryly, she settles herself down next to her friend. "I could be getting way ahead of myself, and it'll turn out that I never even see him."
"Oh my god, I am not going to mom you," Ami says, grimacing at the idea of needing to be texted. "Just keep talking to me whenever you're worried about something. Maybe invite me over for cookies more often so I can check in on you. And make sure you do the same with Rei; she can sense what I can't always see."
The face that Ami made at the texting suggestion gets a laugh out of Mako, bright but rather sheepish. "I will," she agrees with a firm nod. "All of it. And I'll talk to Usagi-chan, too, like you said."
Still a little wet-eyed - from the shallots, nobody can provie otherwise - Makoto reaches to loop her arms around Ami and leans in for a hug. Despite the oncoming storm that looms outside, a tidal wave on the verge of breaking, for the moment she feels like she can see a light of hope in the distance, not very far off.
"Thanks, Ami-chan," she says.