touched for the very first time / majimako
She couldn’t help it.
Vulnerability and carelessness did a nearly fine job at killing her, and they succeeded with everybody else. She was like a wild cat now, ears constantly standing and her tail solid still. Any guy in a badly fitted suit, any slightly raised voice on the streets, even the smell of smoke triggered her prey-like instincts.
“Kitty’s got her claws out,” and she was not afraid to use it, even if there was a lion getting in her way.
It took Makoto’s eyes a few seconds to get a clear focus on the character that had just arrived, adding her troubles to a total of three. An irritating feat, if any, but if she didn’t practice enough, she was never going to fully recover her sight.
And as the two punks kept talking, she pieced the image of him like a jigsaw puzzle. His tall height, his short hair, the pinch of red on his chest-
She could make out the skin of a snake wrapping the third guy’s shoulders and arms, and something black tightly clad to his legs. Oh, this was a new look to register in her head, she thought. This wasn’t a lion at all, this was a giant snake.
“Don’t you know who he is? He’s-”
Everything happened so fast.
The sound of jawbones cracking echoed in her ears, followed by a public gasp. She saw the figures of the two men from earlier fly across the street, and the friction of their clothes tearing against the black tar. For a moment there were hushed whispers. Despite her partial sight, her hearing was incredible. Anyone who saw it immediately silenced their shock and scurried away like mice under a light.
There was no way Makoto could stand up to a beast like him.
He inched closer towards her.
"W-what do you want?" She plucked up the courage to meet his eyes, and found there was only one, the other covered behind an eyepatch. Snakeskin, leather jacket, no shirt in winter, and an eyepatch. If she had knocked her head harder, she would've believed it was Halloween.
Maybe he wasn't yakuza, but that wouldn't explain how he'd manage to knock two guys unconscious with just a punch.
Whoever he was, Makoto didn't need to worry. Tateyama stepped in to "save the day", then he and Mr. Snake Pirate had a little discussion about something she didn't understand. Everything felt like a prank. Like she was missing out on something and like somebody was trying to make fun of her. Then the man left. Just like that.
"He looks…sad." She thought out loud. And familiar. She was confused and numb and she wanted answers.
So she ran in her heels after him and grabbed his hand the moment she could reach it. He stuttered from her sudden appearance, but he didn't say a word. He didn't curse or yelp. All he did was try to pull his hand free from her, but even a yakuza was no match for the strength of God Hands' apprentice.
"Who are you?" She demanded, narrowing her gaze at his face. He looked away, directing his body as far away from her as he could. Makoto didn't feed into his resistance, and instead pulled at his glove covering his hand. He resisted harder, but in vain.
It was the most powerful Makoto had ever felt in her life. She might not be able to throw a punch, or even kill a man, but she could definitely take someone's glove off without consent.
He waited for what she was about to do.
She slipped her hand into his, and they touched palm to palm, finger to finger. The warmth, the roughness of his skin, the bumps of scars that never healed. She knew his hand, she knew him, she knew this was the grip that held her when her whole world crumbled within an instant. The hand that pulled her, patted her head, held her shoulders behind walls while strangers attempted to capture her.
"I know you," she traced his hand like a fortune teller. "I know you. You're him," she said.
"Answer me," she raised her voice, yet still spoke gently. "It is you, isn't it?" she held onto him. "Is that why you don't want to talk? Because I'll hear your voice and you know I'm right. And you've got one eye."
She heard him inhale really sharply. "Why won't you look at me?"
There was no person alive who could stand her sad voice. He slowly turned his face and looked at her.
"Is it you?" she asked again, on the verge of giving up.
"Makoto," his voice was like a home she's lost. "Can ya let go of me?"
She did as she was told, watching as he twisted his hand in pain. "Ya got a pretty strong grip," he complimented. "Could put a guy to sleep in a minute."
There was a moment of silence.
It was sensory overload; her mind slowly picking up the entirety of his being to match the once-faceless guardian she'd lived a few days with. She half-expected he'd be in a regular suit - something about how he had presented himself before pointed to a mysterious, classy figure. But any image was better than no image, and he certainly stood out in his current ensemble.
"It is me," he finally answered. "Makoto."
"Like what you see-" his humour was cut by her pressing herself against him. "Oi-"
"It is you." She held him tight, mindless that she was hugging a yakuza in public. She began sobbing into the crook of his neck. "I've been looking for you."
He laid an awkward hand on her back. "Y-ya did?"
"Of course I did! You left me on my own in the hospital."
"S-sorry." his voice was quiet. "Are ya…glad to see me at least?"
Makoto smiled through her tears.
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