I live in an apartment in Bunkyo town with my kid brother, Bolin. Recently, I just started attending Spica Academy as a senior. It's...a lot different from what I'm used to. Something important you should know: messing with me or my brother is a bad idea. Try anything, and you'll regret it. Beyond that there isn't much else to say. I've done what I had to do to survive. And frankly I'm someone who just doesn't have time to play games. (AU Mako Roleplay Blog)
Owe:
Cause For Conversation - Takatsuki
Helping Hands - Haruhi
Plotting:
Untitled - HasookÂ
Untitled - Takiko
I'll get to replies later today and hopefully get to finish plotting so I can write the two starters I plan on writing too. For me it's exciting to say that I'll be caught up on all replies soon lmao. Sorry for not being on here for some time; been on my personal and then not online as much. And unfortunately my friend still hasn't been able to fix what needs fixing on my laptop. They've worked on it a lot...And I guess I'll just have to be patient until it's done with.Â
Today's gonna be a busy day. Fun, but busy. If on the off chance I don't get to replies I'll just do them tomorrow then. :)
I'll see about messaging people back before I turn in my laptop to be checked over tonight. It's working now for the most part, except for one major thing. Which...needs to be fixed or that'll be a huge inconvenience from hell. >_>
It was fun writing my replies and I just hope everyone who reads them likes and can forgive me for the long wait!
I can't stop laughing at my last starter. Mark my words, THE OLD LADY WILL SHOW UP IN OTHER THREADS OF MINE. Including some of ours. You can bet on it.
It was supposed to be just a normal day at the grocery store.
At least it started that way. Shopper's Mart was only a five minute walk from his apartment, and having his list on hand Mako was positive he would get in and get out in a fairly short amount of time. Mako was an experienced shopper, and he knew exactly what he wanted. Rarely did he linger or take longer than what was strictly necessary to gather the goods and produce he needed before leaving. No, the only times his trips to the store meandered and grew lengthy were when Bolin accompanied him, on account of wandering off to look at absolutely everything, and then proceeding to enthusiastically suggest different meal combinations or items for him to buy. Sometimes, Mako would pull a disbelieving facial expression at Bolin for acting so childish in public and firmly tell him, "No means no, Bo." Other times, Mako would roll his eyes, let loose a light sigh, and then grab the preferred good to stick into the cart much to Bolin's audible delight.Â
Bolin wasn't with him on this trip on account of working at his after school job. That meant there was no one to hinder him moving about and shopping as efficiently as possible: no one to talk his ear off and crack jokes, no one to baby sit and shush to be quiet as he tried to decide between spinach or cabbage. And he had to say, as entertaining as Bolin could be and as much as he enjoyed spending time with his younger brother, he usually preferred grocery shopping by himself since it was altogether less of a hassle and all around more peaceful.
Half way to Shopper's Mart, it started raining. Mako ended up running the rest of the way. By the time he arrived at the automatic doors, he was trailing wind and rain in across the threshold, steadily dripping water droplets onto the floor. Reaching inside of his pocket, Mako grimly examined the state of his list and the wad of coupons he brought with him. The list wasn't completely illegible, but the water did its fair share of damage. Hopefully he would be able to remember as he browsed the store while doing his shopping. As for the coupons...He'd just have to try his luck. Pushing a cart in front of him, Mako looked every bit motivated and focused on the task at hand as he began to peruse the aisles. Not too long after he began walking around, a yellow sign was set up saying: Caution! Wet Floors!Â
He was placing a box of egg noodles into his shopping cart, when he was taken off guard by a feminine voice he didn't recognize piping up and saying boldly, "Wow, a guy who can actually cook? You know you're like a rare breed or something! Your girlfriend must be really happy with you." Blinking, Mako turned to find himself face to face with a teenaged girl regarding him with a broad smile, one hand cocked on the curve of her hip. Chin length dark hair, almond brown eyes, and with a slim physique, she was rather ordinary looking, if it wasn't for her self-assured smile. Actually, the more he regarded her, the more she reminded Mako of someone else. He couldn't place it, but she struck an uncanny resemblance attitude wise to...
"Oh, well," Mako started with a feigned casualness, mostly unfazed by her straight forwardness. "Not everyone's got the luxury of having someone else to cook for them while growing up." He didn't even bother in addressing her last comment. Let her stand there blankly in the middle of the aisle and take the time for the cogs in her brain to turn until she realized the gravity of exactly what he just said. Mako was already beginning to push his cart and set forward on a path elsewhere when she jumped in front of him, successfully causing Mako to have to stop so as to not hit her. If the expression she was wearing was not any indication, her next words were.
"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean anything bad by it...I just was impressed to see a guy that looks like you out shopping by himself. It's not that common, you know? And naturally I assumed you had a girlfriend, because I mean, a guy like you, there'd be no way you'd be single..."
Mako snorted, shooting her a withering stare. "A guy like me?"Â
"You're kidding me, right?"
"No, but I could ask the same of you."
She laughed breezily, walking around the side of the red cart until she was standing beside him, and holding her hand out. "Look, I'm sorry we got off to such a bad start. I was...stupid. Forgive me?" She took a step closer, holding out her hand towards Mako in the hopes he would accept it and in turn accept her apology. He raised a distinguished eyebrow at her, his face remaining smooth and apathetic on the surface. Why should he? Yeah, she wasn't wrong for calling herself stupid, because her assumptions were stupid. What was the point of her going out of her way to interrupt him in the middle of his shopping and starting to talk to him anyway? Didn't she realize he was busy? The whole thing was bizarre. Trying to pick up a guy at the grocery store just wasn't the brightest of ideas. Come to think of it, she looked young...At the most, a first year in high school. Mako shook his head when she stuck her lower lip out in the form of a pout, lifting his hand to take her in a firm grip and amusing her by shaking it.
However all thoughts of an attempt at even slightly being pleasant were ruined but what occurred next.
"Next time, try not to â"
"Get away from my grand baby, you pervert!"
WHACK!
"Ow!" Mako gave a pained shout. "What the â " Was he seeing things right? He caught sight of an elderly lady yelling expletives loudly in a wizened voice and starting to hoist her cane above her head to give him another whack onto the shoulder. Mako's eyes widened, realizing where her actual target was, and reached upwards to grab the end of it right before it could fall completely, amber gaze reflecting a mixture of bewilderment and confusion as he kept the cane at bay. As it turned out, the old lady was the grandmother of the girl trying to hit on him. Somehow she got it stuck in her head he was a no good pervert only interested in stealing away her precious, innocent grand daughter and "soiling her chastity". The choice of words spat venomously at him alone from behind thin lips and a face surrounded by a frizz of curly, white hair was enough to make Mako cringe.Â
Three aisles later and half of his cart filled up with various produce, Mako was able to forget about the awkward encounter with a middle school girl and her overprotective grandmother. It for sure wasn't an experience he planned on ever telling another soul about. If Bolin ever found out, he'd never stop mocking him for it, Mako just knew it.
Rooting through the depths of his pants, Mako dug until he located a specific coupon he was searching for. "Looks like it's your lucky day, bro," he announced aloud with a half-smile curving his lips and glancing back and forth from the wrinkled, slightly damp coupon to the last box of mixed mochi. It was in the far back row, right on the top shelf. Even someone as tall as Mako had to stand on the tip of his toes to reach it. He palmed for the box, starting to drag it towards the edge, and then two facts registered in his brain. One, that he could feel two eyes glaring holes into the back of his head. Two, he knew who it was before she opened her big, fat mouth and started going on another raging tangent again. Now with the box securely within his grasp, Mako stood there silently, watching on as the same elderly woman from earlier came in a beeline towards him, cane waving weakly back and forth in the air.
The sun felt warm and alive as it hung suspended in the cloudless sky above his head; Bunkyo town, an upper class and bustling metropolis for all who wanted to live the high life and have the perfect picket white fence to go with it. Not only was Bunkyo town itself well off but there was a nearby nice stretch of beach, a tourist trap for all who wanted to vacation for a summer rendezvous. Mako hadn't been, but he'd heard about it from Bolin who himself went when he first arrived to Japan. For a winter day that was just beginning, it was surprisingly warm, golden sunlight spilling shadows onto the concrete, the flow of human traffic already picking up. Mako was caught in the tide, too, hands shoved in his pockets, eyes fixed ahead, as his feet allowed him to weave around joggers with their dogs, and peppy families pushing strollers. Despite the smooth mask of indifference on his face, Mako's mood was in higher spirits. It didn't hurt that he'd had the night off before from work and probably got what was the first decent night of rest in a good while.
Mako was on a mission. While Bolin slumbered away in bed, snoring loud enough to wake the neighbors and clearly knocked out, Mako took off in search for breakfast. He did like cooking for his brother when he got the chance, but he had an urge to check out this one bakery he recently heard about. It wasn't the one his brother worked at, Tinker's Delight, but instead another one called Antique. It carried primarily Western baked goods, with a smaller selection of Japanese pastries. As far as Mako knew, Bolin had never gone to visit, and therefore it would be a surprise if he arrived home with a bag full of goods from the place...Yeah, it would be well worth it to see Bolin's overly enthused grin and lit up green eyes. And he had the extra money, so why not splurge some? As long as he didn't get into the habit of doing it all the time it shouldn't be too bad, right?
Entering the door, Mako walked inside and looked around to take in his new surroundings. There weren't many customers, and the scent of baking pastries was lingering, a typical, normal bakery smell. He walked towards the goods on display, his gaze taking them all in. Mako remained staring for a long moment, debating between getting Bolin this or that, or hell, ditching the aforementioned altogether and getting all of the above. One thing he liked already just from the looks of the American baked goods that were labelled for him to see behind the glass: it all looked a lot more filling and satisfying instead of the average small-portioned, light and airy Japanese desserts. The more filling, the better when feeding someone as insatiable as Bolin.Â
"Why are there so many different versions of cheesecake?" Mako questioned himself. Blueberry, strawberry, raspberry, lemon â apparently, it was popular in America if the availability in here was any indication. He pulled a face, his nose wrinkling with distaste. It didn't look like a food he would enjoy.Â
Asami was a particularly skilled driver, having been behind the wheel all her life. It didnât matter whether she was testing or racing Satomobiles or her moped, she consistently proved herself to be more proficient than any of her fatherâs employees, and sometimes more proficient than Hiroshi himself. Sheâd saved herself from many potential collisions on the racetrack with a skillful last-minute maneuver that left everyone watching on the edge of their seats. Consequently, sheâd never expected to hit a pedestrian at city speeds. Especially not one so handsome-
Well, those were probably not the most appropriate thoughts, considering she had just nearly run the boy over. Still, something about the way his mussed hair met his red face nearly made her smile as she tried to get a closer look to assess the potential damage.
Just like that, he was gone. Before she could even walk over to him, heâd run away at a pace that seemed even faster than how sheâd been driving. Why was he running? Was he okay? That had been all she wanted to make sure of. What if he was running away because he wanted to bring legal action against her, claiming sheâd hit him and run away? It wasnât a thought she liked to have, but she had to be wary of things like that. Her fatherâs company certainly didnât need a public relations mess that would certainly result from the news that Hiroshi Satoâs daughter had been involved in a hit-and-run. Besides, it wasnât like she wouldnât happily pay any medical expenses or replace any broken possessions without legalities involved.
Quickly, she hopped back on her moped. It was time to act; she revved up the engine and sped off into the road the boy had been running alongside. She tracked him by the red scarf sheâd noticed before he ran away. Besides, sheâd barely taken her eyes off of him. He was on the sidewalk, still running for some reason, but she could certainly outrun him on her Sato-made scooter. Maneuvering through traffic was no issue for her; she sped up until she was well past him before parking on the side of the street and running into the sidewalk to head him off.
She ran towards him, hoping he hadnât noticed her speeding by on the road. It was a bit busy (a class period at Spica had just let out), so she may have been well-camouflaged.
Before she reached his position, she removed her helmet and goggles so she could better assess the damage sheâd caused, letting her hair out with a quick flick of her head.
âHey, are you okay? I am so sorry - youâre not injured, are you?â Based on the speed with which heâd run away, he was perfectly fine, but that certainly didnât mean she shouldnât check.
In the back of his mind, Mako was distantly aware that class had let out, and students were milling about the sidewalks, driving in their cars, ready to get home and get a head start on their weekends. The honking of horns, shouts, and snippets of conversations and laughter all carried through the chilled air. Mako ignored all these things, mind focused on the task at hand, which was getting out of there and within the privacy of his shared apartment with his younger brother as soon as possible. On foot, it'd take him around fifteen minutes give or take, but if he picked up the pace he should be able to cut that down in half. Mako's scarf billowed around him, the crisp gusts of wind nipping at his still red-cheeked face. The male youth flickered a glance over his shoulder, worried that she was still on his tail and wasn't letting up. Mako would rather run himself into exhaustion before being caught talking to that girl face to face again.Â
He could live without humiliating himself like that twice in a row.
Just Mako's luck...He didn't see her anywhere. She'd probably written him off as a whack job and driven clear off campus already. Just as Mako thought he may be able to duck into a nearby tea shop to be on the safe side, he turned his head to face forward again and gawked. Vertigo nearly overcame Mako, and there was a prolonged moment in time where he remained staring at the same he was running from completely and utterly enthralled. Mako knew he shouted something unintelligible out of shock due to having to catch himself from tripping over himself and colliding into her, but the thing was, he couldn't remember what escaped his lips, or even what he was thinking, since he was too preoccupied with fixedly staring at her.Â
In slow motion, he watched as she took off her goggles and helmet. Her hair alone was enough to capture his attention. Thick, luxurious raven-black tresses were wind tosssed as she flicked her head, silken waves and styled curls that swung around and framed her pale, pretty face all falling so perfectly. It was long, it was soft looking, it was...Wow. Beneath the concealing goggles, just as he predicted, she was stunning. Her eyes were pure green. The color fascinated him, light jade with flecks of darker emerald shimmering brilliantly. She was a teenaged girl with the face of a model and the lilting, melodic voice of an angel.
âHey, are you okay? I am so sorry - youâre not injured, are you?âÂ
He should be saying something. He shouldn't be so caught up in staring at her. But the shock of her suddenly appearing in front of him and actually having the nerve to follow after him, especially despite Mako taking off like a crazy person, and talking to him so calmly and normally was breath stopping. He'd seen girls, plenty of girls in his life that were attractive, but this girl was easily one of the most visually mesmerizing he'd ever laid eyes on. Her beauty was a classic one, complete with complimentary make-up and lengthy, flowing locks that looked soft to the touch no matter what...And she was talking to him. She was talking to Mako. Why? She had to be messing with him; she couldn't really be that nice to be sincerely worried about his well-being, could she? His mind was buzzing. His heart was thrumming against his ribs. Usually, always, Mako knew what to do or how to bounce back from a situation and recollect his cool composure. This was one of those few instances in his life he was failing to do so, however, and he didn't know what to think about that except he was still staring at her and he really needed to force out a word, a sentence, anything just as long as he wasn't continuing to be caught up in feeling like this and staring like some sort of creep â
"U-Uh...I...I...I...just um..."
Really, Mako? Again with the failure of grasping basic talking skills and stuttering? I'm too old for this. At least, though, the wind was calming down. Blinking, lifting his head to acknowledge her and regaining himself, Mako parted his lips start to speak again, attempting to summon a more firm tone of voice. Clearing his throat, Mako assured, "Nah â " And then a powerful gust of wind somehow caused his scarf to swirl rapidly upwards and lash him in the face. Ugh. He thrust a hand upwards to grab at the fluttering piece of clothing and keep it from doing so again by wrapping it back around his neck, this time more securely. The agitation it caused to spike inside of Mako fizzled out when he was returning his attention to the female standing in front of him.Â
"Nah, I'm fine. Trust me. I've felt worse just from messing around with my brother." Yeah, he really had, and that wasn't an understatement or him trying to appease her either. Standing up to his full height, Mako scratched the back of his head sheepishly, thinking about how impressed he was that she not only beat him on her moped, but drove through the traffic, clearly parked somewhere and then ran out to the sidewalk, all just to cut him off. He wasn't used to anyone showing concern like this for him, especially outside of his rather nonexistent inner circle; basically, which comprised of Bolin and recently in another incident another girl whose name he still didn't know... Mako smiled at her, mouth quirked with contained shyness, face still tinged with color. "You don't gotta worry about me, uh..." Right, he had no idea what her name was.
Each team set up with an even amount of players and the game ensued, the teens running toward a centered line of plush balls with intensity roaring through an eyeâs glance and speed of a wild animal. Haru, however, stood motionlessly in the back of his teamâs area with a blank expression cast along his features and his chin lightly quirked to the side in minimal confusion. Just what exactly was going on here..? This was the very first time the student was in a match of dodge ball, which was yet another fall back of not attending middle school - and being in attendance to an elitist academy during grade school years. Although this was yet another elite school, this one appeared to be much more laid back on the teachings of proper etiquette and social standing.Â
Observing the opposite team and the kids on his own, Haru noticed two things; balls were being thrown and the students were in high spirits. That could only mean one thing, right? This game is what friends would play! A gentle grin cast along the delinquentâs features as he continued to watch the class hurtle things at each other and dodge them miraculously. It was in this state that the boy became what was known as an âeasy targetâ. Soon enough, plush balls were roaring toward him at a high speed. Just barely catching these things in time before they made contact, Haru yelled and ducked with the swift elegance of a crashing train. If not for any other reason, initiating fights with others built up quite the impressive stack of agility.Â
With a ball rolling to his feet, a hand reached to take grasp of it as curious eyes studied it with animosity. He had the ball now.. so what was he to do with it? Were there any rules about throwing it? Glancing to another student on his team, the only thing he could observe was to make sure it wasnât caught by the receiving end. That seemed simple enough! The eager grin returned to his features as he realized that heâd get to play with the other students as their friend, rather than an outsider waiting to be picked off by their live ammo. Just as Haru took his eyes away from his weapon, a loud whistle interrupted his train of thought.Â
âHaru Yoshida! You held the ball too long; youâre out!â The ref shouted, an index finger raised to the bleachers.Â
âThe hell do you mean âyouâre outâ?! I was just about to throw it!â Haru protested angrily, his clutch to the plush ball growing tighter with his right hand as both arms raised to the front of his torso. The ref merely shrugged it off and pointed to the bleachers once more, only angering the boy further. With each hand swinging down to their according side, the student growled under his breath and continued to glare at the offender as the game continued without him. There was only one option, now. Soon the ball that was previously cradled in Haruâs hands spitefully flew toward one particular student in animosity, which was naturally the one that called him out of the game.
With quite the impressive amount of speed, the ball flew past the refâs head, allowing a minimal breeze to ruffle through his eel-like hair. Haru made his way through the quart in silence as he took the directed path toward the bleachers. As he reached closer to the other student, which recovered from the surprise of the red, plush weapon hurdling toward him, a teasing smirk appeared over the lower portion of his expression. âNice aim, idiot.âÂ
Eyes closing for a millisecond before reaching the corner of their socket to view the other boy, Haru obstructed his path to a curve, stopping for a mere second a few feet from the studentâs seat. Without bothering to turn his head or even peer in his direction, a short reply made itâs way into the delinquentâs monotonous voice. âNext time, I wonât miss.â Â Resuming his stride and taking a seat near an older student who struck out right before he did and lifted each leg to be cradled within the protective clutch of his arms.Â
âI canât believe I struck out before getting to play,â He mumbled in defeat, peering to the other boy once more as he noticed a glance in his direction. The habitual glare returned to his features as his head snapped over with intensity. Oh god, here he goes again. âWhat?â
"Come on. Get your act together!" Mako called out, grimacing when yet another one of his teammates was struck by a ball and sent tumbling to the gymnasium floor. "...Useless."
He couldn't believe it. Were they really that hopeless without him? This was just embarrassing to watch. The kid striking everyone out for the most part was nothing but a simple-minded, overly buff jock type who was over compensating for something he lacked. Mako hated guys like him, and watching him laugh it up at everyone's expense and use his brawn to intimidate and knock out player after player was wearing at his last nerves. Bad shoulder or not, Mako knew he could trounce him and put him into his place easily without so much as breaking a sweat. At his best, he would never stand a chance. If only he hadn't been ordered to sit out âÂ
Another student was plopping down beside him, but in a defensive posture with both legs being swiftly cradled by his arms against his chest, his chin resting on the tops of his knees. A head full of shaggy, black hair fell into dark eyes, which possessed a haunted, crestfallen look about them. Mako was guessing that the guy's ego was probably bruised and he hated that he was forced to sit out and miss the rest of the game. "I can't believe I struck out before getting to play," Mako heard him say dejectedly, and that pretty much confirmed it. Still, the kid was bold. He was the only one to dare to sit down near Mako on the bleachers, unlike the rest of them who were all keeping their distance, whether it be lingering against the back wall and hanging out with their friends, or sitting at the top to witness the mayhem below. Come to think of it, Mako recognized his face the more he studied it.Â
âWhat?â
His eyes narrowed in a frosty glare at Mako, and his head snapped with an quick intensity that belied a skittish animal realizing it was not alone. That was quite the change in attitude. He went from sounding and appearing downright depressed to radiating nothing but pure aggression and defensiveness. That was enough for Mako to remember. Yoshida Haru â there were a lot of rumors circulating around Spica Academy regarding him and before he even transferred. Mako wasn't one to listen to rumors, knowing better than to trust whatever tainted information and blatantly fabricated stories were passed down the grape vine for the amusement of teens with nothing better to do. Either way, he could tell by the way he was acting he was ruled by his emotions, which to an extent he could get. Sure, Mako was patient and level-headed, but at times with choice people his tolerance for idiocy could be pushed to the brink and beyond tested. Especially whenever dealing with an individual who could be immature and self-involved to the point it drove you crazy.
Mako lifted up his chin and regarded him back, his eyes shining like burnished gold. He was never one to back down from a challenge.
"I didn't say anything," he remarked casually, closely watching him now in case he wanted to try something. He seemed to be on edge and like he could be set off by the littlest thing. Mako only hoped he wouldn't be dumb and try to start a fight. That wouldn't go over well at all and truth be told, Mako didn't need the drama. It was bad enough in his first week here at Spica he nearly lost his temper with one guy for running into him on the track. That didn't even take into account the fact he fainted and had to be carried to the nurse's office that one day when he got into it with Korra... Mako inwardly cringed at the memory, wishing he could banish it from his mind as soon as it formed. He hated that; he hated feeling like he was struggling to stay in control over his body, his temper. There were a couple of factors contributing to his less than stellar track record with keeping cool under fire in recent situations, but Mako was determined to amend that. He wanted to be more in control. He didn't want to keep feeling so powerless.
"You know what?" Mako slowly contested, speaking bluntly and clearly over the loud racket, loud things, mostly the sound of rubber balls bouncing all over the place and screaming and shouting going on in the background. "I don't want any trouble. So let's just not go there."
Nicolette smiled to herself as she rushed around the room, broom in hand. After a cooking malfunction the day before, she had been stuck cleaning up her classroom. She didnât mind though. Sadly, sheâd become used to cleaning up huge messes. She had learned first hand that cookingâŠwasnât for everyone. However, she refused to give up, knowing that if she tried hard enough, she could teach them.
Her first period was about to begin, and seeing as how she couldnât clean up the whole mess yesterday, she was finishing this morning. Just as she scrubbed a bit of dry batter off of one of the island desk/counters, students began to file in. The raven flashed them all a smile and waved before walking back to her table at the front of the class. She set the broom aside and sat down, waiting for everyone to take their seats as well. Her individual classes werenât that big, so it made it easier to teach and remember everyoneâs names. âHello~!â She greeted cheerfully once everyone was inside. Most of them greeted her back, a few smiling just as brightly as she did.
âAlright class! Today weâre going to make Fruit Tarts!â Was her first announcement. Nicolette had had a hard time deciding on a recipe to try, and ultimately decided on something she was sure would be less of a mes to clean up. Plus, it was something sheâd never personally made before. That was always the exciting part. When she could learn with her students. A lot of times, Nicolette would make stupid mistakes of her own in class. Of course it was always followed with quiet laughter, but at least she could learn from it. It was obvious she wasnât perfect at what she did, but no one really seemed to mind that.
As she opened her cookbook and scanned through it, so did the students. Most of the had been assigned to a partner. The few that didnât usually preferred to be alone. âPageâŠone-hundred and five.â She murmured before looking back up. The violet eyed woman turned to grab an apron, instructing everyone else to grab theirs as well and put them on. âAlright! So, like usual, I need a volunteer!â A few hands shot up, and Nicoletteâs eye scanned over the room. Most of the people who actually volunteered themselves, were ones that had been up many times before. Today, she wanted to pick someone new. Who though, she didnât know.
He filtered into the classroom with the rest of his classmates, one of his hands shoved into the recesses of his pockets and the other holding his belongings against him. Unsurprisingly, the majority of the students were females, with only a few males, all of whom were probably only here to pick up girls. Amber eyes were rolled as Mako walked past a pair of teenagers flirting shamelessly right beside a desk, the guy leaning against the desk top and the girl smiling coyly and giggling. Couldn't they at least wait until after class? No, of course not. Nobody was paying any mind to the teacher either, who was polite fully flashing everyone a smile while multi-tasking.
Mako didn't return the smile, but he did acknowledge that she was working on cleaning up the mess made presumably the day before. All the while, that smile never left her face.Â
Mako would have opted for a seat further back, but seeing as how the rest of the students were quick to claim ones nearer to the windows, the back of the classroom, and generally farther away from the teacher, Mako was in the front. He did not particularly care either way. At least this teacher seemed to be friendly, if not a little too peppy and eager to please. She was younger than other women teaching here from what he saw, and therefore less experienced. So that meant she probably would have a handful with the kids here at Spica. For as rich and uppity as the place was, Spica Academy's student population wasn't any less rowdy or immature. Naw; poor or rich, elite or not, a teenager was a teenager regardless.Â
Reclining back in his chair, Mako folded his arms across his chest. As pleasantries were exchanged, he kept his gaze riveted straight ahead, or more specifically, focused on the teacher in question. She was older than him, but it didn't look like she could be by that much. Her face was youthful looking, with deep, purple hair pulled back into a low ponytail, which admittedly showed she was practical. That was another point in her favor. Most others here were focused on their looks and looking as aesthetically appealing at all times as possible, but with how she was dressed, she actually looked like she took this class seriously. The most curious feature of all wasn't her hair color, or the shade of amethyst in her lone, visible eye, but the eye patch she was wearing to conceal half of her sight. Â In his time on the streets, he saw a fair amount of the disabled, men and women alike who were beggars on the corner missing body parts and limbs as they tried to scrounge up change...So it wasn't a foreign sight to behold at all.Â
Was there a reason she was wearing it, or was it just some fashion statement? He couldn't tell right then.
âAlright class! Today weâre going to make Fruit Tarts! PageâŠone-hundred and five.âÂ
Snapped out of his thoughts, Mako lowered his arms to lean forward over his text book, flip it open, and turn towards the page she requested of them. Scanning the contents, he was able to deduce that it would be simple enough. He'd never had reason to fix fruit tarts before, what with being poor and caring more about putting meager portions of what he could find and make edible on the table and all, but Mako's domain was the kitchen. Cooking, whether it was at his restaurant job, or back at home for Bolin and himself...It'd be more of a challenge to find something he couldn't cook with enough experience and patience underneath his belt.Â
When no one volunteered, Mako shook his head in that condescending way of his. Why was he not surprised? The rest of the class was chatty before, but when it came to speaking up in front of the teacher and volunteering to help her, no one ,uttered a peep after that. He didn't get it. What was there to be intimidated about? Then again, Mako wasn't one to be intimidated by figures of authority. And cooking was hardly a subject to get worked up about.
He turned in his seat, giving the rest of his classmates a final minute inspection in case anyone changed their minds, sweeping over the room with a probing stare. "...Right," Mako muttered lowly with a snort. He raised his hand into the air. "Then I guess I'm your volunteer for today."
Mako wasn't exactly feeling enthusiastic about the whole thing, but he didn't see the big deal either way. If it sped up the process and made the class go by smoother, then why not? He'd just have to show them all how it was done himself. How many of these kids knew how to actually cook and look after themselves anyway? How many so much as lifted a pair of chopsticks without a butler or maid hovering nearby to wipe their mouth? He stood to his full height, the audible, metallic screech of his chair loud in the quiet classroom. Smoothly shedding his jacket, Mako then hung it from the back of his chair, knowing full well he didn't need to risk it getting dirtied. Then, he was walking towards the teacher at an even, confident gait, until he was standing directly in front of her, easily towering over her figure. She was even shorter than he originally figured upon seeing her.
Mako remarked lightly, "So, what do you need me to do?"
Rolling over in his sleep, Bolin pulled the sheets up closer to his neckline. The bed itself was already terribly messy. Either the teenager had gone to sleep without fixing up his sheets a little, or he just moved that much. Considering the latter, it would be understandable why Pabu was laying on the nightstand just to the right. Grimacing in his sleep, the boy rolled onto his other side and this time finally pulled the covers all the way over his head. For a time, that was good enough and his restless sleep ended. However, the silence of his rest was broken when a loud gurgle came from his stomach.
That single noise finalized his inability to sleep any longer. It was amazing his stomach could even make a noise like that considering last night. While Mako had worked on the boots and shirt, he had sat there practically gorging himself on what he considered a delicacy while talking about his day. Doing so typically allowed him to sleep in late Saturday morning. Of course, if he happened to get an early morning text from a certain person, he would be up in a surprisingly short time. It seemed having been out so late and coming home to eat hadnât given him his fill. Exhausted still, Bolin had dropped to bed shortly after the two had dinner. For him to actually be so hungry that his stomach had woken him up, it was awe-inspiring that the two even had food left in the fridge.
Opening his eyes beneath the covers, he let out a soft groan. It was far too early to be awake, but still his stomach rumbled and he would be unable to go back to sleep. Throwing off the top blanket, Bolin glanced at his cell phone sitting next to the fire ferret. Seeing no flashing light, he let out a sigh and swung his feet off the mattress. He hadnât expected to see a message, but wouldnât have minded one, especially after waking up so early. Raising his hand out, he rested it upon his faithful friend and rubbed lightly at Pabuâs head in between his ears. The small animal twitched, but did little else to show some awareness. For a minute, he considered waking up the fire ferret to go get some food, but thought better of it. Just as he was used to sleeping in late today, Pabu probably was as well.
Groaning at being the only one awake, Bolin lifted himself up and stretched. As per usual attire, he had managed to throw off his usual shirt and pants and fall asleep in only his boxers. Scratching his messy hair, he looked at the door and yawned. Mako was probably asleep so he would have to be quiet while fixing himself some food. He wasnât even completely sure why Mako felt the need to work while attending school. While he wasnât one-hundred percent about the people keeping them safe, he didnât see the need to push oneâs self so hard. He could easily have a part time job after school like he had managed to gain at the bakery. Sure it left him wanting more time, but he was happy to be working with Orihime. Never a dull day happened with her and it was even better when there were less customers.
Groggily walking over to his bedroom entrance, Bolin pulled open the door. For a minute, he was dumbfounded at what he saw. Mako was wide awake fixing food. Bolin cocked his head as his brain attempted to turn on. Mako would have arrived home an hour or two ago, so what was he still doing up? Why was he even fixing food? He should have already gone to bed. Suddenly, amidst thought and his mind trying to catch up with what was going on, his nose was attacked by the smell of some delicious rice porridge. His stomach grumbled even louder and his mouth began to moisten at the thought of already prepared food. By the smell, it was nearly done. That was even better.
Walking up as quietly as he could now, Bolin had completely forgotten that he was shirtless. It mattered little considering they were brothers and they both had often gone without shirts while Mako repaired them or they were being cleaned. Still, at the table during food, he was supposed to wear a shirt. As that hadnât mattered when he was just going to eat by himself, he hadnât thought to put one on. Smiling regardless, he pulled back a chair and sat down. âSo, whatâs for breakfast?â Bolin asked happily as he watched Mako cook. Out of the corner of his eye, a stack of large papers stood, but he couldnât see exactly what was written on them.
As he took a sip of his tea, Mako took a moment to enjoy its taste and warmth. He smiled, his lips lingering around the rim of the cup, but not because the herbal liquid was that aromatic or tasty, but because of the familiar, cheerful voice that sounded.
He wasnât surprised in the least. Where there was food, there was sooner or later sure to be Mako's little brother, eagerly and impatiently awaiting for his own serving to be dished out. He was...hopelessly predictable that way, not that he really minded. Despite himself, Mako lowered his cup back onto the counter top and did not look Bolin direct in the face, not yet. He didn't need to glance at him to catch sight of the unkempt hair and lack of actual clothes anyway. Mako bet his white tank top and pants were far more concealing than whatever Bolin was wearing fresh out of bed.
âSo, whatâs for breakfast?âÂ
He shrugged with mock casualness, and continued to stir the rice porridge. Mako was an older brother who was used to cooking for and looking after his younger brother. It didnât mean he did not possess a sense of humor or witty streak, however. If anything, it emerged all the more when it was just the two them. In return, Bolin would usually gleefully cajole him and tease about his lack of experience with the female gender seeing as how, between the two of them, Bolin was the only one to actually have any semblance of a dating life in the past. Mako was far too busy working and taking on adult duties from the age of eight and up to find any free time for himself to date around; not that he ever had any shortage of admirers, but when it came down to it, Bolin came first, no questions asked. âIâm surprised youâre asking, Bo. Maybe your nose just isnât as good as it used to be,â Mako quipped, beginning to ladle the concoction into a waiting bowl. Even so, there was a tinge of amusement warming his angled face. âItâs not dumplings butâŠâ Mako stopped, flashed his brother a small smile, before ladling his portion into his own bowl. âBut itâs fresh, itâs hot, and itâs food. That should meet your standards, right?â
Nowadays, Mako had the funds to be more creative with his cooking. That was admittedly something he never had the oppurtunity to do before, though since he hadn't had a chance to stop by the grocery store yet this meal wasn't one of those. Not that Mako went all out or crazy in the kitchen, but since they had a stable home environment now with a fixed income, why not see about creating more satisfying fare for Bolinâs fat appetites, but being more varied with his ingredients and healthy leaning? Mako walked towards Bolin, raising an eyebrow good-humoredly as he placed down the bowl in front of him, before setting it in front of his own chair. After bringing over the kettle, his cup of tea, and another cup for Bolin, Mako at last allowed himself to sit down and get comfortable. If given more time, he probably could whip up something else to eat, but he figured for now this should be enough for both of them.
Mako truth be told was far from picky, although like everyone he had his own preferences, particularly for spicy foods. Sweets were not something he indulged himself in very often, but the opposite could not have been more true for Bolin. Maybe this weekend he could fix roasted duck, spiced noodles, sweet dumplings, and a thick, traditional Chinese soup. Just the thought alone of all those savory dishes were enough to lift Makoâs spirits that much higher. Bolin would be sure to enjoy his homemade cooking, and stuff his face with it until he was made immobile. It would take a lot of preparations, and he would need to shop around town for the best and freshest ingredients he could get his hands on, but the work would be more than worth it to witness his brother enjoying himself. Maybe if Bolin didn't overdo it, they could have leftovers too. Well, that was a plan if there ever was one. Mako's mind was made up.Â
Swallowing down a few spoonfuls of the porridge, Mako fixed Bolin with a look that rarely showed itself across his face. It wasnât stern, it wasnât stoic, it wasnât disapproving eitherâŠInstead, there was nothing but pure content writ across his features, lighting up the golden hue of his eyes and keeping the corners of his thin lips quirked upwards. Breakfast with his bro. Well, this wasnât the most common occurrence nowadays, and he was determined to enjoy it with Bolin as much as possible.
...He could always just squeeze in a nap sometime during the day.
âSo, Bolin,â Mako began coversationally, only just remembering he hadnât poured Bolinâs cup of tea just yet. He fixed that quickly enough, reaching out for the kettle to pour a stream of hot liquid until the fragranced scent was curling in the air above their heads, just as surely as the beams of light were filtering in through the windows. âHowâs your job at the bakery going? Tinkerâs Delight,â he said, letting the foreign name roll off his tongue and mentally recalling what the outside of the place looked like last time he was out in that part of town.
It'd looked nice enough, and the elderly couple running the place pretty harmless. Of course Mako being who Mako was, he'd checked it out. It would have been abnormal if he hadnât. Though, giving it another look over and actually entering inside of the building instead of simply looking in from the street and asking around school would probably prove to be more fruitful. And with that realization, Mako internally filed away that information for the nearby future. Yeah, heâd be sure to fix that real quick. Appearances could be deceiving after all, and he only wanted the absolute best for his brother. He was already worried about him taking on his first job as it was. He knew his brother could be...resourceful and creative when it came down to it, but still. Mako worried. âIâll have to stop by some time. You have to go in today again, donât you?â
Caught up in his musings, Mako forgot about the stack of papers not too far away from him, specifically all applications for places inside Bunkyo.Â
Laptop STILL hasn't been fixed. Therefore, no RP'ing or...really anything online. If you follow me on my personal than you probably know that already. If ya don't, well, now ya do.
I wrote my last two replies before my laptop completely fucked around on me. Went ahead and posted them now so my account isn't completely dead. I was only withholding them because I wanted to reply to everybody then post away but seeing as how I don't know when that'll happen...well. Yeah.Â
So ornately designed was the festival, and the lanterns surrounding the shrine, and the crowds of people â all seemed to such in as something she found extremely entertaining, if not amazing. Simply because she had never seen such things before. There she stood, her features clearly displaying the perplexity delineated upon her facial features â her clear, azure optics simply taking in the perception of the new view, the new experience of the festivals. It was a little saddening that she has never received a single advantage in order to do so in her life â but she had to consider herself at least the least bit lucky then!
She was about to panic, upon realizing that Pema and her daughters were no longer with her â and that none of them actually called out to her or pulled her, because that was simply odd since the air babies especially enjoyed tugging by her arm. Perhaps they had things to settle, but Korra turned abruptly; if only to let her cerulean eyes coalesced with a familiar pair of ambers, no less but a fiery set of optics set upon the handsome features of a man she had met by bumping onto him on his first day at school, arguing with him and carrying him towards the schoolâs infirmary. The next time they met were during the Halloween Party held at an odd manor.
And if she had to admit anything from it was that her pride and the brick-red walls of her ego were all broken down by this man before her, with his black hair and radiantly mature eyes â and the brain he possessed. The last person she expected to see then was him â and right then she could almost feel her heart begin to pump a lot faster, skipping at least about three beats each second because she remembered the texture of his appendages, his protective warm digits wrapping themselves around her milky-brown â cold ones, from the way she shivered that one night from all the fear she collected within her.
She was nothing less than surprised to see his face, ever so calming and pleasant. Yet ironically, she would never admit to knowing such expression from him. To compose herself was something, and to word herself was⊠Another. Because easily, they havenât met each other for the time she was constantly absent from Bunkyou Town, and there were times she would set her sights on him on her walks to classes but⊠Nothing else. They would simply disregard each other but deep down she knew⊠That there was some connection only they both know. Only she and he would know.
âOhâ⊠Uh, heyâŠâ she carefully tried to say them calmly, but she was clearly captivated â if not by his looks, she would have to admit that she was extremely taken aback by his choice to speak to her. He seemed amused, and clearly â from the way the corners of his lips were tugged upwards, and he seemed to hold a stance so easy, so comfortable around her and it seemed⊠Odd. Then again, it was New Yearsâ Eve. A hand of hers pulled a stray strand to the back of her ear, avoiding her ultramarine blues to meet his fires.
She cleared her throat, before letting her arms fold just below her chest â and, just distinctly, if one were to look closely, would they notice the way she seemed to embrace herself, as if to support herself from falling. Clearly she was nervous around him, and he was doing her crazy. âIâ⊠Yeah, you donât really get to see this kind of festivals where I come from,â the elaboration seemed easy and loose, for she tried hard; but Korra was no liar, her expressions were always an open book, and not just to her â to everyone else who knew who she was. There was no way she could easily try to let the things that occurred that one cold night⊠Off.
âDo you always come to these things? Oh yeah, the other time you mentioned about your brother! Did he come along?â trying to mask her pain, both from being unable to express herself completely, and from having broken down her walls of pride by this stranger she admitted â once, or twice that she hated, she inquired all that was probably needed in order to get the conversation going â at least to not seem as though she was trying to escape him.
That would be no less than abrupt and suspicious â especially not with the amour-propre she possessed.
Korra turned towards him, surprise at his additional presence written all over her face. He wasn't quite sure what to make of it, or of her for that matter. Who knew she could pull off such a sophisticated kimono and yet get into such a tizzy and look so youthful while doing it? Mako listened as she proceeded to stutter out a greeting, just barely, and by the time it was out Mako was already raising his eyebrows slightly, questioning why she was appraising him the way she was and her words were trailing off on such a clumsy note.Â
"Hey," he responded back evenly, tipping his head at her in acknowledgement. Between the two of them, it was apparent he was clearly more at ease. There had been anxiety in the past at the thought of crossing paths with Korra, whether it was on his way to school or on campus grounds back at Spica Academy, but since he'd chosen to approach her it was like any hint of uncertainty evaporated. Besides, she was full of enough nervous energy for the both of them as it was, Mako mused. Better she be flustered and fumbling than him. Already this encounter was contrasting any of their previous ones by severe margins. It probably helped that she hadn't ran into him, or that they weren't in any real danger.Â
âIâ⊠Yeah, you donât really get to see this kind of festivals where I come from.âÂ
He'd thought as much since the day they first met. So that confirmed what he already knew, that Korra wasn't from around here. Of course, with her dark complexion coupled with her eyes it was obvious. Her skin was bronzed and in comparison her eyes were aqua blue, like she had the ocean captured in her gaze. They were her most prominent feature, sparkling with boundless energy, unwavering determination, and fierce courage. Mako remembered the different ways those eyes could light up, could transform, whenever she was brimming with a certain emotion and facing unrealistic odds. He didn't know if anyone had eyes like hers, or as a contradicting spirit like hers, and that was the honest truth. And Korra may not have been from Japan, but that did not fully explain her reactions to the crowds alone. What part of the world was she from, or more importantly, what type of life did she lead there where being in a mob like this was something to get worked up about, or excited even? It sounded like a highly sheltered one, which made Mako internally snort.
Suddenly, things regarding the way Korra acted were starting to make that much more sense. And with how naturally open and talkative she was, Mako was positive he would be learning even more about her soon enough. He wouldn't even have to ask, really. Mako could easily just let her do all the talking.
A shadow hovered over her gaze thereafter, like she was remembering a distant memory, and Mako could instantly guess what that memory was. His own demeanor turned more serious as a result once he himself recalled their last meeting and how that unfolded. Back at the mansion, on Halloween night...She looked visibly troubled, off. He was tempted to comment on it, which wasn't exactly like him. Mako nearly told her something with feeling â "You don't have to worry...It's all over, you're safe now. I wouldn't let anything else happen to you," â but he didn't, even though he was nearly on the verge, because it was like she flipped a switch. Enthusiastically Korra started to question him about his own reason for being there, asking about Bolin. Bolin, he thought, and then let out a groan of disbelief, his head turning from side to side to search for his sibling. Just like that, he was pulled out of whatever weird mindset that was, one that involved Mako close to offering comfort in the form of gentle camaraderie Bolin, he saw, was nowhere to be found.
Why did this always have to happen? Couldn't he stay put and within his eye sight for once?
âDo you always come to these things? Oh yeah, the other time you mentioned about your brother! Did he come along?â
"Yeah, he came along all right. And now he's gone because he ran off somewhere without telling me like usual. Seriously, this is happening way too often," he groused, bringing a forefinger and thumb to the bridge of his nose out of mild agitation. Pulling a face, eventually Mako took a series of steps away from Korra, trying to look through the crowd. If he knew Bolin, then he was probably at one of the booths serving food. That didn't exactly narrow down his location considering how many booths were set up tonight to commemorate the New Year, not only selling but giving away free dishes and drinks alike, but it was a start which would have to do. Mako wasn't quite sure what to make of the hesitation he felt as he put more distance between him and Korra. It was strange, but it almost was like he didn't want to leave. Or more accurately, Mako didn't want to leave her. That notion in and of itself made his stomach turn because it didn't make any sense. For months they went without contact. Why the hesitancy to leave Korra now?
Right, she'd asked him another question, hadn't she? He should probably answer that. Mako considered his response, and started slowly, "Well...Bolin's more into events like these than I am. But if it makes him happy, than that's good enough for me." Mako may or may not have smiled. "Besides, it's rare we get to go out together like this. And it's not like it's a bad scene."
Closing the door with a light thud, Bolin looked around the room. Raising an eyebrow in confusion, the teen looked next to the door and flicked the light switch to illuminate the area. âMaybe he is having a fun night,â the boy muttered before walking over to the couch. However, seconds away from resting his tired body, he remembered the dirty pants and bloody, tattered shirt. It really was a pity. He had worked so hard on his Aladdin outfit and now it was ruined. There was no way all the stains would come out of the white cloth. Then again, that might just make it look more authentic. The shirt might be able to be stitched up again as well. For now, he just wanted out of it.
Walking into his room, Bolin grabbed a pair of shorts and a sleeveless white shirt. Both had their own tears but had been sown up over the years. Luckily, his growth had slowed to where he wasnât constantly going through new clothes at a near tri-monthly rate. Removing his dirty clothes, Bolin glanced down and saw the still dried blood covering his chest. Tracing a hand along, he was amazed everything had happened how it had. He had been attacked by some vicious beast he couldnât see and Orihime had saved him. There was no way he couldnât swoon over that act of courage and then for her to go a step further and heal such a fatal injury. Never had he experienced or heard anything like it. Still, the blood and clothes were proof.
Stepping into the shower for a quick wash, Bolin scrubbed off the blood and watched the water on the floor turn a bright crimson for a short few seconds. Rubbing his fingers cross, he could see no scars where the claws had slashed through skin. However, he could still remember the blaring pain that had followed and a tingling sense ran down his back. He had been so close to death tonight and he idly wondered how Mako would respond if he knew that. Would he reprimand him for going to a darkly-lit park alone with Orhime? Would he blame her? Would he even believe his story? That an invisible creature had attacked them and Orihime had obliterated it in a single strike? It was astounding thinking about it now.
Turning the water off, Bolin stepped out and quickly dried off before changing into his new clean clothes. Sighing in relief at the comfortable chill, he walked back into the main room and then the kitchen. A soft rumbling echoed from his stomach and he knew preparing a full meal would take too long. Grabbing a cup of ramen, the teen set to work making his food and after anxiously awaiting the microwave to reach zero, he quickly grabbed the scalding hot cup and yelped. Luckily, the food managed to land right side up and only spill a little. Too hungry to care for a little mess, Bolin carefully placed the bowl on a plate and walked over to the couch to sit. Mouth practically drooling, Bolin clicked on the TV and went to cooling down the warm soup by blowing along the top.
Finally spooning up some of the delicious smelling liquid, the boy went about eating as he dazedly watched the screen. He wouldnât be able to say what was being talked about in five minutes time, but it was an easy distraction. It allowed him to escape from his mind which was going crazy from the events of Halloween night. Glossed over eyes watched silently as he ate away until the spoon hit repeatedly at the bottom. Looking down, the boy whined at the loss of food. One bowl of ramen was not nearly enough to fill his stomach. Still, he was far too tired and comfortable to get up to fix anymore. With at least some food in his stomach and the sofa feeling quite pleasant, he soon began to feel the urges of sleep crawl up.
Yawning, Bolin set the empty bowl down and turned sideways to lie on the couch. While it wasnât nearly as comfy as a bed, it was adequate enough for his exhausted body. Within seconds, the boy was knocked out asleep with one arm hanging off the make-shift bed and both feet jutting off the end. In a few more minutes, he was likely to be drooling from his wide open mouth. Luckily, no one else was there to hear the snoring erupting from his nose either. While the shower had managed to clear most of the dust which had flowed into him from the battle, the position he was now sleeping in did little to help his air pathway. Still, it would be a few hours before the male was up and feeling the effects of a bad bed.
*****
Jolting awake and nearly falling off the bed, Bolin caught himself in the nick of time. Breathing hard, the teen looked around with wide eyes as sweat dripped from his brow. Heart beating loud up to his ear, he jumped up and looked behind the couch. Still nothing. Realizing it was a dream, he dropped back down to the couch and sighed. âLooks like it will be awhile till that memory fadesâŠâ Glancing over at the bag of treats, Pabu laid silently, his body rising and falling with each short breath. What felt like a few minutes of sleep turned out to be hours and by now, a chill flowed through the room. Shivering slightly, Bolin turned towards the clock and blinked. âWhat the? 5:30? Why didnât Mako wake me up to say he was home? I wanted to know how the party went.â Scoffing thinking his brother had left him to sleep on the couch, Bolin checked the older boyâs room and foundâŠnothing. Looking back at his previous sleeping spot, he noticed the ramen cup was still there also. No way that would be in the same spot had Mako returned. âWhere IS he?â
Mako imagined an elaborate party. He imagined looking on as Bolin himself had a good time, slipping through the crowd in his home-made costume, and between the chatter and sparkling drinks and crystal on the tables, between the flashes of color and the displays of affection, he would stand out the most. He knew that Bolin would have his fun, and even if he was against the thought of showing up at a place he wasn't familiar with and wearing an outfit he didn't want to be in in the first place, Mako knew Bolin wanted to be there and that would be enough. Mako's plan was to stay in the background and hover protectively nearby, maybe size up the place, the crowd, the male in question who was hosting the party...He only caught a handful of glances at the guy in question, noting how he never stayed in one place for too long, and that he was always on the move, never lingering to speak to anyone of the single guests for too long.
At one point, he met Hotoke's eyes across the ballroom, blood-red crimson piercing into topaz dead on. A sliver of a smile appeared on his visage, and Mako inwardly knew there was something uncanny about him. Nevertheless, politely he nodded back, and that was the end of that brief exchange.
Just as he was beginning to wonder where his younger brother was, she showed up, or more correctly ran into him. That was eventful. Initially he remembered being stunned by the eyeful of tanned skin and soft curves. Her costume was far from being modest, and yet, despite that he sensed she didn't have any lascivious intentions by wearing it. It was a strange understanding to dawn on Mako, that only lasted for a millisecond before anger set in, if not more so denial. He snapped at her that he wasn't surprised she failed to grasp how to not bump into people, and Mako read the shock on her face like a book. She didn't expect to see him there at the party, either. Before she could reply back to him, the lights went out, and all hell broke loose.
Meanwhile, Bolin was nowhere in sight.Â
He was prone to worrying over the well-being of his younger brother. He'd done it all his life. But he was also an expert at staying cool under pressure, possessing a talent for it even in the face of the most dire situations, because if he didn't, who would? Still, in the thick of the panic, in the thick of the overpowering darkness and screams rising, Mako called out his name. As sharp and sudden as that feeling of hysteria was, he managed to keep it together, and grab for the girl's hand at his side. Then, he was pushing against the crowd, fighting his way out until he was outdoors. The screams didn't die off, only echoing more around them like dying bells as boats began to capsize. In the midst of it, Mako found a private, quiet area off to the side of the mansion, and worked on formulating a plan to find Bolin. That was where he eventually came to learn that the girl he brought with him, whose hand would remain interlocked with his for the majority of the night, was named Korra. She tossed him fearful glances, blue hues swallowing her face, betraying her building confusion and uncertainty.
And truth be told, even if she hadn't agreed to come with him and help him find Bolin, Mako didn't see himself just leaving here there by herself. He'd never be sure, but the way she looked to him like that. It wouldn't have...it wouldn't have been right.
Mako still couldn't believe what came next â the sound of a reed-thin voice that dripped with thick, cloying sweetness, bidding the two of them to come closer. It didn't make sense, it wasn't something that could possibly be real. Mako took a protective stance in front of Korra instantly, readying himself for a fight at the sight of a swiping, wet and pale hand coming from the depths of the lake, and a shimmer of hungry aquamarine eyes. He knew better than to give it, whatever it was, any kind of advantage over him, and more importantly that in his gut whatever it said was not to be trusted. It tried again, but Mako's reflexes and instincts were sharp and honed. He thrust out his palm but the revelation that overcame him was that he couldn't do anything.
He couldn't Firebend, and the creature knew it too. So very much the taunting and malicious entity it was, it laughed and murmured how she knew he was special. Its words drove into him, backed by a knowledge that bared him to its knowing leer and touched the most secret part of him. On some level, it didn't surprise him. When it went back from whence it came, Mako had been forged, remade, at least during the time he was on the island and at the mansion. Instead of being relieved at his lack of bending abilities that he never wanted to begin with, Mako was filled with dread every moment he was on his feet, every brush of danger that came across his path. Physically, he was fine and there was nothing amiss. Like always, he'd made himself soldier on, brushing off any questions Korra asked him, and they didn't stay in one place too long after that.
After that, they were always running.
Mako had no one but himself to rely on for the majority of his life, and he never saw that changing, truthfully. It was just the way things were, and he didn't see the problem with it either. Being independent, making the tough decisions that needed to be made, it came naturally to Mako. That was the role he reverted to while with Korra. Her hand clasped in his was a tether to reality, a reminder of a cause worth fighting. The wind would whistle through black branches, shaking them and causing them to jostle together. The bony, leafless fingers of the trees formed an endless canopy over the cold, surprisingly lonely forest trail. And Bolin's unknown whereabouts inspired Mako to push himself all the more. He was the only family he had left, and if anything happened to him he didn't truly know what he would do, or how he would cope.Â
When Korra was nearly dragged off, Mako's relief to feel her safe in his arms was an all encompassing emotion. It didn't last long. He promised to keep her safe, but every second, every minute spent with Korra was one less spent with his brother, and knowing the ill fate she nearly met made him shudder violently. Where was Bolin in all of this madness? What was Bolin doing? Was he all right? He couldn't use his connections to find him and get them out of his situation this time.
The night was long and pitch-black.
Mako and Korra eventually emerged for the most part unscathed. Once they were able to finally leave, a burning, thrumming sensation zipped through his body, and when Mako flexed his arm, he knew his bending had returned. At the first juncture of streets, once Mako knew for sure Korra was safely on her way home, he moved along the side walk at a lumbering pace with his shoulders hunched and his hands buried in his pockets, yet keeping his eyes and ears pealed for any hint of disturbance.Â
When he was finally standing in front of his apartment door, the teenager rose to his full height and exhaled. He'd spotted the twinkle of lights in the distance easily. That could only mean one thing: Bolin was home. Around the stitch in his side, Mako fumbled out a hand for his key to their shared apartment, not slowing down, and if anything hurrying up. His hands shook as he struggled to fit the key inside the lock. There was the telltale click, and then, Mako was pushing the door and waltzing inside.Â
"Bolin?"
Mako slowly blinked his eyes, realizing how late it was, or rather how early, once he caught a glimpse of the clock. 5:30 AM? The sun would be rising soon. He'd really been out there all night? He shook his head, and refocused his attention on locating his brother. Mako checked the kitchen, and sure enough Bolin left his mark. There was a mess on the floor that made him smile, then frown disapprovingly. Despite how exhausted he was, despite not laying eyes on Bolin just yet, he was crossing the tiles to reach out for a rag. And then he was getting down onto his knees, and wiping it up. Instant ramen, huh? Figures. The stuff was disgusting, but Bolin was hopeless when it came to cooking on his own, and without Mako there to fix him food...Then, he was stiffly rising, tossing the rag into the sink, before heading into the living room. Lo and behold, there he was, his back to Mako. Why he was up instead of sleeping he didn't know.Â
"Bo...?"Â Mako allowed the question linger, let the sound of his voice saying his brother's name sink into place, like dominoes tumbling with a delicate breath. He didn't remember ever being this exhausted before in his life, and it probably was obvious with the way his voice sounded. Mako was well aware of how he looked: scratched up, bruised up, and his clothes worse for wear. If asked, he would lie. Mako's mind was already made up on that. He didn't know how to describe everything that happened to him that night anyway. It was still hard for Mako to digest in the aftermath. More importantly, there was no way he was going to worry Bolin more than he already had to have by coming home at such an inconceivable hour. Mako cleared his throat, and after glancing over the state of the living room, firmly stated, "You should be in your bed, asleep."
Time wasn't on Mako's side, unless he did something about it. Mako x Korra.
Listen to this, if you're going to read. It was what I did as I wrote it so...Basically, this is what happened in episode twelve of LOK but from Mako's POV. I enjoyed writing it, getting into his head, seeing his reactions to everything from his view. I don't know if I captured the emotion or intensity I was going for, but I tried. Whoever bothers to read, I hope you enjoy. :)
Mako jumped out of his hiding place seconds after Korra was forcefully ripped from beneath the table she was hiding under for cover. His fists ignited with a blazing flame, bursting into life and shooting forth.
"Let her go!" he yelled, his words heated, topaz eyes hard and unyielding as he continued to advance forward. The sound of Korra's groans and gasps of pains drove him, echoing in his ears, because he couldn't take hearing much less seeing her in such a state of despair. There was no holding back now. He watched as Amon effortlessly dodged each jet of fire just in time, just like he always did, and the smell of choking heat was enough to snap him back into reality. He was rushing in, like a fool, but it wasn't like there was anytime for him to think his actions through or to form a logical strategy, because Korra, Korra was hanging suspended in the air like a helpless marionette, and her fingers were quivering in an unnatural, awful way, her back was bent to the point it looked like in a snap of Amon's fingers it would break, and it sounded like she was so close to tears. Mako could see she was trying her hardest to fight against his control with every fiber of her being, because that was who she was, Korra was a fighter, but she was losing, she was losing, and Mako couldn't let this happen, he couldn't â
He had no way of being ready for this. No amount of calmness, no amount of being a perfect strategist would be enough. His body jerked, and as Amon raised his hand, Mako's fire died, snuffed out like a candle. Every muscle, every tendon inside of Mako betrayed him, and inwardly he screamed. They all seized up, reducing him to nothing more than a plaything for Amon as he hoisted him into the air, and Mako automatically let out groans of pain of his own, feeling his entire being become flooded with paralyzing agony. He couldn't see, he could only feel, feel desperation and taste it thickly pool on his tongue and in his mouth as his thoughts trailed to Korra. Then, all he could think about was Korra, because Korra was so close and yet he couldn't do anything to help her now that he was in Amon's grasp. I can't...Mako thought with panic. I can't break his hold. But...she...she...
He was tossed onto the ground. Mako's breath came out harsh, and truth settled into the marrow of his bones as he watched Korra be blood bent to her knees. People thought Mako was fearless. They were dead wrong. He was so frightened of being a failure. He was so honest to Spirits scared of failing the ones he loved and letting them be preyed upon by those who would hurt them. And it was a persistent fear that plagued Mako all his life, usually only limited to his brother Bolin; but that changed when Korra forced her way in, it changed when she was kidnapped by Tarrlok and he was going out of his mind trying to find her. He couldn't eat, he couldn't sleep, he couldn't even take a moment to rest properly and just breathe until he knew she was safe. Amber eyes peered up helplessly, wide in a rapidly paling face as he was forced to watch Korra cry out. Invisible strings kept him bound, ribbon-like threads from within his very own body restrained Mako, holding him down.
It was madness, his body that felt natural to move and use to his advantage to wield his bending and strength unable to move even an inch of his own volition. He felt terror beyond what he'd ever known, a wave crashing over him as Amon's footsteps echoed and carried him to stand directly behind Korra, so that he glanced down into her blue eyes that stared up at him, and the truth was Mako had no idea who was more scared, him or Korra.
"No!"Â
"KORRA!" It was useless. He was useless. Mako's strength was gone, his body was restrained, but his panic violently leapt up and flared, blurring his vision sharply. His mind rebelled, but his body refused to move, acting as nothing more than a cage for his spirit. He would have screamed at the unfairness of it all if he could, but his throat felt as dry as cotton, closing up.
Time wasn't on Mako's side. Nothing ever was. Who was he? Who was Mako? Just a pitiful street rat who was forced to teach himself how to fight and learn from brawls on the streets and various alleyways. Nothing was ever handed to him, nobody ever gave him a break. Everything he had, everything he was, he earned on his own through his sweat and blood and rigorous, hard work, and nobody could take that away from Mako, nobody. Time wasn't on Mako's side, but he felt it pulsing beneath his skin, he felt it ticking by instead of slowing down as Korra crumpled. His head felt dizzy, and he couldn't believe it, he couldn't believe that the Avatar was... She didn't stop either, despite losing her bending, something she carried inside of her ever since she was born but lost in a span of a few heartbeats. Korra crawled forward, determined, and she tried to throw a punch enhanced with fire but nothing came out. The rage within his heart couldn't be quieted. All Mako knew was he had to do something. He had to push through this, he had to find a way, he had to.
Time wasn't on Mako's side, unless he did something about it. The Lieutenant was enough. He was a man who was in the midst of his own fit of rage and feeling of utter betrayal.
"I just saw you blood bend her!"
It was irrational, the way he ran at Amon with his weapons raised up and poised to strike like cobra-weasel, as if they would do anything worthwhile or he had the capacity to even touch the man, but Mako could understand the blankness taking over, in spite of years of keeping cool headed and fighting like he was dancing, because times changed and emotions boiled over. Fools rushed in without a plan, as Mako always believed. As the Lieutenant was lifted into the air and his body bowed, his limbs quivering and twitching uncontrollably, Mako grunted, choking on his breath, and he clenched his jaw and closed his eyes tightly, willing himself to get up, willing himself to gain some semblance of power, some meager trace of control over his body and reclaim it for his own, willing for this hell to fade away.
In the moments between his foot steps, in the moments between the Lieutenant's hisses of pain, Mako was fighting, because Korra wasn't the only fighter here. There was a sickening crack after Amon finished his work with his former loyal follower. Amon descended upon him once he was finished with the Lieutenant, and Mako's body shook, he trembled but he kept pushing even as Amon refocused his attention on him; his muscles strained, protested against him, but he forced his hand to start moving, feeling the energy pooling in his arm. He clung to his anger, his anger at Amon for doing this to her, his anger at the Equalists and the damage they did to the city, his anger at himself for being reduced to this, and Korra, who was like a proud phoenix with her fire put out. Mako was no one, he wasn't a hero, he wasn't the Avatar, he wasn't a phoenix reborn. A twist of bitterness hardened the line of his mouth, his eyes turned into molten gold and narrowed into slits, and all he felt was a ferocity to get up. There was a risk, not using his entire body in the position it should have been to direct it, but Mako didn't care then. If he could just strike Amon, then any danger he put himself in would be worth it.
He forced his middle and index finger straight while the rest stayed curled up, and then, all his rage and power churning, furious to be released, a bolt of jagged, blue lightning struck. His consciousness receded to the background, and everything that had slowly awakened inside him surged to the foreground. Nothing existed but feral power and darkened savagery and his bending raged uncontrolled and unpredictable. Mako's gaze was bright was malice. Amon was taken off guard, and screamed as his body was electrocuted before he flew clear across the room, slamming into the wall. Mako sprang into action, knowing an opportunity when he saw one. He quickly reigned himself in and forced himself to rise unsteadily to his feet. Punch after punch of massive flames were thrown, a far cry from his usual precise and carefully executed movements. The searing, crackles of heat shot towards the planks of multiple wooden boards, causing them to crash on top of Amon, and sending a cloud of dust spiraling upwards.
An instant later, and Mako was kneeling by Korra's side, and there was no feeling of victory or triumph, there was no room here in this dusty warehouse with the smell of scorched hair and burnt skin. Mako lifted up Korra as gently and as quickly as he could, feeling his heart racing beneath his ribs, his skin simmering with heat. Amon was down, but for how long?
He had to get them out of here. There wasn't a second to waste. Korra's bending may have been taken away, but it made no difference to Mako. She was his first priority and no matter what, her safety came above anything and everything else, even his. That was why he pushed himself, he pushed himself to hold her to his chest protectively, he pushed himself to take off in a sprint and run with every intent of escape. His senses were only returning then, and he still wasn't at his best, but it didn't matter. Mako had to move, now, if they were going to have any chance making it out of here alive.
"Mako..." Korra's facial features looked pained with sadness, and she looked so lost in his arms, her thoughts and fears plain as day in her murky sapphire eyes. Mako couldn't stand to see her like this. Her voice was one of despair, of numbness, of the fallen. There was no hope, no conviction. She had given him her hope, her trust to fight by her side, and he had failed her. He had let her become powerless. "My bending..."
"Everything will be all right!" His tone was sharp, and he tried to infuse as much strength and reassurance into it as he could. He wouldn't allow himself to look weak, even if he was scared, even if he was honestly petrified, so of course, he kept his gaze on hers as he spoke. "We just need to get out of here â "
He should have known Amon wouldn't be that far behind. Mako hissed with pain, and Korra emitted a gasp as Mako's arms were jerked tautly without any warning, sending her sliding across the floor as Mako was dragged back. He tried with every iota of his being to fight back, to break past Amon's hold, even as his limbs were twisted and he was bodily lifted. His blood roared in his ears. His line of sight swam, he could barely make out Korra's prone form, and his head was spinning. Lightheartedness was all Mako knew, before fire danced in every corner of his being, on his nerve endings. Air burned in his lungs, his heart pounded and slowed. Being brought up, he could feel his insides going cold. Blood moved in ways it shouldnât, as if every cell flowing through was a magnet which was attracted to the ceiling. Slammed upwards, it wasnât just the impact that hurt, but the sensation of every crimson droplet forcing its way up as if it wanted to rip apart his skin and move about its own. Before the darkening cloud around his vision could clear, that magnetic force had switched and each cell had changed direction, yearning to be free and at the command of Amon.
Blood vessels feeling as if they were about to burst, Mako felt himself thrown against yet another wall, his equilibrium completely confused and pain flowing throughout to the point Mako didnât even know if he was on the ground, ceiling, or wall. A flash of red and black covering his eyes and he was at the ground, on his knees in front of Amon once more.
NO! his mind despaired. This can't be it!
Mako looked up at Amon, fear writ on his features, everything he was flashing in front of eyes as Amon lowered his hand, malicious intent clear in the gesture alone. Inside he screamed in despair, convulsing and his brow twitching, his mouth open as he gasped in breaths, unbelieving that all he did up until this point amounted to nothing, and that he had truly lost. He felt himself sinking, sinking into the depths of who he was, alone, and he was unable to contemplate much less fathom what would happen beyond this point. Mako couldn't get up and break them out of this situation, not this time. He'd really lost. Korra, I'm so sorry. Korra, I didn't...â He couldn't take the pain, the guilt that was festering and eating at him alive.
"NO!"
Korra's determination roared in that one, uttered word, and Mako felt a blast of air hit him squarely in the face, sending him and the likes of Amon soaring. His back pounded against the wall, but he could have cared less about that once he landed. He flickered a deeply shocked, wide-eyed stare at Korra, his pulse thundering loudly in his throat. Korra was standing, albeit leaning with her weight resting against the wall, but she was back on her feet, and when she realized the gravity of what she just did, there was exultation in her eyes. It'd taken every bit of physical strength for her to lift herself up and recover from her tumble, from her strained and aching muscles after Amon had his way with her, but she was not down for the count, and it registered in crystal blue hues. Mako watched as Korra looked at her hands with awe, words stuck for a moment, unbelieving. "I can Airbend," she whispered softly. She paused, utterly still in a shaft of sunlight, and she seemed like a mythic, ancient creature coming into her own again, a phoenix everlasting. Her words sounded, this time more firm, surer of herself. "I can Airbend!"
Her eyes were round and serious for but a moment, then she smiled dazzingly as she aimed another strike of her fist forward. Mako was sure he was the one who would turn to ash, only to be reborn by her grace.
She was magnificent, radiating light, her eyes sparkling with a renewed vigor as she wielded the element of air to her advantage, literally causing Amon to crash through the window in a spray of glass. Mako had been transfixed, overwhelmed by her and the power she wielded, his hope renewed, feeling proud of her unlocking it even when he knew that there was more despair to come. Her inner fire, her selfless heart, it sung to every corner of his being, lighting up his own heart in a way he never knew was possible, calling him to her. Mako all too gratefully embraced her, tenderness swelling up and making him tighten his arms around her form. There was a knowledge that flickered inside him, that this wasn't the end, that the storm wasn't past because once the immediate relief of this moment dwindled she would be lost and she would despair for the losses she endured. But all that Mako knew was that no matter what he'd stay by her side.
All he knew was that he was hers, and would always be â regardless if she was the Avatar or not.
