Fan Fiction ❯ A Shifting of Fates ❯ Drowning Rain ( Chapter 1 )

Chapter One: Drowning Rain

July 24, 2002-

A storm was brewing above Makoto's head, and the eighteen-year-old glanced skyward, a puzzled frown forming on his visage. Funny, the weatherman had predicated that the drought would continue on for at least another week. Oh well, Makoto wasn't going to complain. He knew even the thought of rain would bring a smile to his cousin's face and even a five-minute sprinkle of rain would make Shoten delirious with delight. Shifting the backpack slung casually over his shoulder, the teenager continued his relaxed lope down his street towards the small red-brick building that he had called his home since he was five and his parents had been killed in a car crash. Both sets of grandparents had died from various diseases years before, and Cousin Shoten's single mother had died a few months earlier of cancer when the news of the fatal car crash had reached the man of only twenty-seven years. He had rather unwillingly become the guardian of the wide-eyed five-year-old who had had to learn English and thus started a year late into school. Now Shoten was forty and had a live-in boyfriend, a thirty-two-year-old teacher named Andrew who was the chorus teacher at Makoto's high school, and Makoto spoke with no hint of a Japanese accent.

The teen strolled in through the front door of his home and wrinkled his nose at the scene. Shoten and Andrew were locked in a tender kiss, oblivious to his presence. Smiling softly to himself, Makoto silently backed out the door and quietly closed it, not wanting to interrupt. He stepped onto the vibrant green grass that had been kept alive only by Shoten's declaration that their showers were restricted to three minutes each go-round and that the shower water was to be thrown out onto the grass. After waiting for five minutes, he bounded up the steps, making sure to be as loud as possible to announce his presence, and burst through the door, grinning in his normal cheerful manner at Shoten and Andrew. Shoten was busying himself with rubbing at imaginary dust on a mahogany desk in the den that was the first thing a person stepped into at the house while Andrew was hanging up his light blue jacket.

"I'm not late getting home, am I?" he inquired, knowing he wasn't but simply asking for the sake of fooling his cousin into thinking that he didn't know what they'd been doing. For some reason, even though Andrew had been living with them for the last three years, Shoten was still reluctant to show affection for the man in front of his younger cousin.

Andrew glanced at his watch, which was far short of a Rolex. "Nope, you're a few minutes earlier than when you usually get home."

"Chris had an orthodontist appointment right after I finished up summer school, so I didn't have to hang around that long, and just caught a movie at the theater by myself instead," Makoto informed the chorus teacher before slinging his backpack onto their couch, the teen collapsing on the couch soon afterwards. "He's getting his braces off in two weeks."

"Too bad he couldn't get them off before graduation," Shoten commented, shaking his head.

All the teen replied with at first was a light shrug. He didn't like to think of the fact that his best friend was deserting him to go off to the other side of the country to the University of California in a couple weeks. "Chris is just happy they're going to come off. He's had them for five years, after all."

"True. I've almost got dinner ready; just need the meatloaf to finish. Could you set the table, Makoto? It's Andrew's turn to wash the dishes."

As Andrew groaned in despair at his task (in jest, of course), Makoto smirked and walked from their den into the small kitchen, easily getting the chore done.

When the meal was prepared, the three settled down to eat, Makoto polishing the meatloaf, lima beans, and potato salad off without any problem. Of course, there was that brief moment when Andrew teased him about putting ketchup on his meatloaf, but that had become a time-honored jest between them.

Taking a final sip of his coke, the teen leaned back in his chair and smiled at his cousin and his cousin's lover. "Need me to give you two some time to yourselves and take myself over to Chris's?"

While his Japanese-American boyfriend flushed, Andrew Clarence Walker chuckled and waved his hand at Makoto. "Sure, knock yourself out." His eyes, the color of a stormy sky, twinkled as he added, "Just make sure your girlfriend knows you're there so she doesn't call and interrupt anything."

In return, the boy rolled his eyes of dark, dark brown. "Alicia Brownell is not my girlfriend. She's just obsessed with me, that's all. I don't see why she won't go and get obsessed with Chris. He's the one who likes her."

"Such is teenage love, my boy." Andrew and Makoto smiled at each other before the younger of the two stood.

"I'll see you later," he said, turning his smile upon his cousin, who automatically smiled back, the grin lighting up his good-looking features. Shoten really was quite good-looking, when he smiled. "And it might rain tonight."

The gardener's delighted cry filled his ears as Makoto grinned and exited the home, slinging his backpack over his shoulder once more. He never bothered to bring a change of clothes with him, seeing as he never bothered to change during an all-nighter.

Brand-new sneakers earned from his part-time job as a dish-washer at a nearby restaurant made quiet sounds on the sidewalk as the teen strolled down the street, taking his time. Chris wouldn't be home for half an hour or so, which meant he could take a walk. A tendril of dark, dark brown fell in front of his line of vision, and Makoto paused to redo his ponytail, smiling as he did so. Just as he finished fiddling with his hair, he felt the warmth of the dying sunbeams heat his flesh and knew his red highlights were visible for anyone to see.

It was extremely humid, but with another glance at the sky, Makoto was almost certain the heavens were going to open up and drench everyone with rain. Well, no one ever said that was a bad thing. Grinning broadly, the teen stood in the place he had paused, tilting his head up towards the darkening skies, darkening both from the sun slipping behind mountains far, far away in the distance and the gathering storm clouds.

"Come on, clouds, give us all you've got," he murmured, joking to himself. It wasn't as if the clouds were going to obey the whim of an eighteen-year-old. Then the teen jumped and yelped as an ice-cold drop of rain landed in the middle of his forehead. Blinking in surprise as more and more rain began to pelt him, Makoto cursed under his breath and bolted in the direction of his home. What timing. He'd hopefully not interrupt anything, grab an umbrella, and then continue to Chris's. As much as he liked rain, he wasn't in the mood for a soaking. He had retraced his steps to his driveway before he noticed something. When had that black van appeared across the street? He knew Shoten and their neighbor Ana liked to gossip, but his cousin hadn't mentioned during dinner Ana telling him about needing anything fixed. Shrugging his shoulders and beginning his sprint up the driveway towards the safety of indoors, he decided to ask Shoten later. Right now, he just wanted out of the rain.

He entered, dripping wet, only to be meet a harsh scolding from Shoten as he dripped water onto the carpet. Mumbling an apology, he trudged to his room and changed into a dry pair of jeans and sleeveless white top. Heading back towards the front door, he smiled at Andrew who gave him a good-natured grin, knowing all too well Shoten's wrath when it came to his precious white carpet.

"In case you couldn't tell," Makoto drawled, "it's raining."

As Andrew chuckled and Shoten let out a child-like squeal of pleasure, Makoto, armed with an umbrella, ducked back out into the pouring down rain. The van was still there, but the teen didn't pay it much mind as he turned to wave at his cousin, who was standing in the doorway and beaming at the rain, Andrew right behind him. As the latter waved back at Makoto, the teen grinned and turned back towards the street, trudging down the driveway and back onto the sidewalk. He hadn't taken three steps before a white figure appeared out of nowhere and tackled him, sending him sprawling onto the drenched grass.

"Hey!" That seemed to be the extent of Makoto's vocabulary as he squirmed underneath the person who had tackled him, barely noticing the prick of a needle on his neck as he did so. "Hey!"

"Hey!" was repeated, but with much more outrage and a lot less surprise than Makoto's had as Shoten rushed into the rain, hurrying towards his thrashing cousin and the attacker. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Get off my cousin right now!"

"I'm calling the police!" Andrew's equally infuriated cry followed right after Shoten's words. At that, the person who had tackled Makoto leapt up and bolted, leaving the stunned teen sprawled on the lawn. As Makoto gazed into grass, he heard the sound of a van's tires squealing as the black van sped out of sight.

"Makoto! Makoto, are you all right?" It took a moment for the youth to comprehend the words, and then he slowly turned over to gaze through the rain at Shoten's pale and anxious face. "Makoto?"

"I'm fine. Just…a little stunned." His cousin helped him to his feet, supporting him as his knees wobbled for a brief moment.

"Maybe we should call a doctor."

"No," Makoto insisted, shaking his head as his knees stopped quivering for a moment. "I'll be fine, really."

"Let's get you out from the rain. The police will be here in a couple minutes." Andrew's voice came from between the two relatives and the safe, safe house. Makoto leaned heavily on Shoten's shoulder as he was lead inside, trying to understand what had happened even as every limb began to grow very, very heavy. He had just been tackled, and whoever had tackled him had probably wanted to get him into that van….

Shoten seemed to have forgotten about his precious white carpet as he lead his cousin to where he could lie on the couch, patting the youth's shoulder and anxiously asking him if he was sure he didn't want a doctor. After assuring his cousin he didn't, Makoto closed his heavy eyelids, but not before seeing the look of anguish on Andrew's face. The thought flitted through his mind that Andrew was upset because Shoten was upset and because the teacher actually cared about his lover's cousin, and then Makoto gave in to unconsciousness.

~*~

Makoto was awoken to the beeping of a monitor, though he didn't realize that was the noise at first. Gradually becoming aware that he was in a nice warm bed and quite dry, he opened his eyes. After his vision cleared, he found himself gazing up at the white ceiling of a hospital. It took another second to remember what had happened. He bolted upright, cursing as the blood left his head and made him momentarily woozy.

"Makoto?" His name was spoken by Shoten, sounding anxious. Makoto's eyes flickered around the room and settled on his cousin who was sitting in a chair that looked very uncomfortable to sit in, concern evident in his face and frightened dark eyes. "You're awake!" Now relief filled the man's tone, and the fear left his eyes to be replaced by more concern. "How are you feeling? You've been unconscious for nearly twelve hours."

"Twelve?" It took a moment for that number to sink in. "I feel…okay. Too hard to stay sitting up, though." With that, Makoto laid back down, keeping his gaze on his cousin. "Where's Andrew?"

"He's off talking to the doctor." That seemed to remind Shoten of something, for the Japanese-American scooted closer to his cousin's bed and pressed a button on a panel next to him. "I'm sure the monitors have already told the doctors that you're awake, but we should get some nurses in here anyway, just in case."

Sure enough, a beaming nurse bustled into the room, turning her beam upon the two relatives. "Nice to see you're awake, Mr. Haruki!"

"Um, thanks." Makoto wondered what she was so cheerful about. He glanced at his cousin, and noticed how tired he was. "What time is it?"

"Oh…about nine in the morning," Shoten admitted, and yawned as soon as the words left his mouth.

"Don't tell me you and Andrew have been awake the entire time." Makoto felt a twinge of guilt make his stomach clench. The clenching increased as he noticed Shoten duck his head and look sheepish.

A few seconds later Andrew skidded in through the door as a doctor snapped, "Stop running!" Running a hand through tousled locks, the teacher smiled abashedly at the teen.

"Good morning." Then Andrew yawned too, covering his mouth and looking even more abashed.

"Oh, good God, go home and go to sleep!" Makoto ordered, attempting to lessen the guilt he was feeling. Shoten fought back another yawn and shook his head at his cousin.

"We're not leaving until you do." Unable to help it, Shoten yawned once more.

Makoto turned pleading eyes upon his cousin's lover. "Andrew, drag him home, please. I'll be fine, really. I promise I won't scream like a little baby if the doc decides to poke me with a bunch of damn needles. I don't need Mother Hen here watching my every move before he collapses from exhaustion."

"He does have a point," Andrew said in a soft tone, turning towards Shoten and taking his hand, oblivious to the nurse who was watching them with wide eyes. "How about we go home and take a quick nap, and be back by one or so?"

Glancing between Makoto and Andrew, Shoten licked his lips before opening his mouth in a wordless protest. After a moment, his shoulders slumped, and he frowned, looking years older. "Fine." He turned another anxious gaze upon his cousin. "You're certain you'll be okay?"

"I'm fine," Makoto said, as firmly as he could manage, wanting Shoten to look youthful again. "Have a nice nap, Shoten-sama." The honorary title brought a faint smile to the older Haruki's lips and lessened the strain in his facade.

Wordlessly, Andrew ushered his lover out of the hospital room, just as a doctor entered with a clipboard. Makoto gazed with a hint of nervousness at the doctor, who looked to be in his late forties. He didn't like doctors, and he especially didn't like being in a hospital near needles.

"Mr. Haruki." Makoto arched an eyebrow at the doctor, whose name tag read Dr. Jones. Ha, what an original name. "We won't know for a couple of days what you were injected with, but we suspected it was merely a drug to knock you unconscious for several hours. We'll be keeping you here until the results are in, just in case." The teen fought back a groan. He hated hospitals.

~*~

On July 29th, the results came in, confirming the doctor's suspicions. Makoto was released into his cousin's care, though a police officer would drive by his home every couple of hours for the next week or so, just in case whoever had been after him tried to pull the same stunt as before. Shoten fussed over him for the first few hours before Andrew distracted him by mentioning how neglected the garden looked, and then Makoto was left to being bored by watching television and waiting for Chris to get home from his trip to the beach, since his best friend had left the day before and wouldn't be back for two weeks. Funny, how his best friend had never visited him in the hospital, but he chose not to think of that fact. The next day, Makoto actually ventured outside, Andrew having gone to visit a sick friend and Shoten off getting groceries.

The teen glanced around his lawn, smiling in amusement as he noticed the new flowers Shoten had just planted. His cousin really did have a flair for gardening, even if Makoto definitely didn't. He padded, barefoot, to snag the mail and newspaper. Tucking the newspaper under his arm, he head back towards the safety of his home, shifting through the mail. Nothing for him, of course. He had just reached the entrance when a soft, hesitant voice spoke.

"Makoto, Makoto Haruki?" Makoto turned to stare into the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. Caught off-guard by the luminous, glittering depths of viridian, the teen simply stared. Uncertainty filled next words of the owner of the eyes. "This is where Makoto Haruki lives, correct?"

Makoto blinked and shook his head a little to clear away the spell that had come over him. "Sorry, I'm Makoto Haruki. And you are?" He quickly stuffed the mail in with the newspaper and offered his free hand to the young man in front of him. Well, to the teen would be a better wording, since the person before him looked only sixteen or so.

The youth hesitated, flinching briefly away from the hand before gingerly accepting it for a handshake. "I'm…" He faltered, a faint blush spreading across his freckled face as he looked momentarily blank and then continued. "…Quincy Hamilton."

"You're British, right?" Makoto had finally recognized the youth's accent.

"Right." Quincy Hamilton gave a quick, jerky nod, an action that almost made Makoto think that he wasn't used to nodding. An apologetic smile crossed his face briefly. "I'm afraid I'm intruding on your privacy." It took a moment for the Japanese-born teenager to figure that out.

"Intruding? Oh, no way. Shoten and Andrew don't mind visitors. Come on in. Just take your shoes off before you enter. My cousin's crazy about his carpet." Makoto gave a little what-can-I-do shrug and entered the house, moving his feet against the welcome mat to get anything off his feet.

"Your cousin Shoten? Andrew's his lover, right?" The hesitant words once more caught Makoto by surprise and he turned to blink at Quincy, wariness instantly flaring in his dark eyes.

"Why would you think that?" His tone was guarded, and Quincy immediately flushed once more, turning those viridian eyes of his down towards the white carpet.

"I'm…s-sorry. I didn't mean to…" He trailed off, hanging his honey-brown locked head like a puppy who had just been scolded, worrying his lower lip in an anxious manner as if he was frightened of a punishment. Makoto sighed and dumped the mail and newspaper onto the mahogany desk, gazing at the stranger.

"Hey, I didn't mean to sound angry or anything. It's just…not many people know…about it."

"I won't tell anyone, I promise," was Quincy's soft, almost plaintive whisper that Makoto had to strain to understand it was so quiet.

"I believe you. Want something to eat?" The offer seemed to floor the Brit, for Quincy raised his eyes, which were now wide, to blink at him.

"Something to eat?" he repeated, as if the concept was foreign. The reaction earned him an odd look.

"Yeah, we don't have a lot at the moment, since Shoten went to buy groceries, but there's got to be something around here." At Quincy's timid look, Makoto sighed once more. "God, come on, into the kitchen." Hearing the Brit's shuffle as he followed, Makoto rummage through the cupboard, coming up with two packages of Ramen noodles. "Do you like Ramen?"

"Ramen?"

"Yeah, noodles. One of the easiest things in the world to make," the teen commented over his shoulder as he busied himself with boiling water. A few minutes later he proudly set the bowl of steaming noodles in front of the Brit, who had settled in a chair at the table while watching the meal be made. "It's not much, I'll grant you, but at least it's some-" He was cut off as Quincy spooned a mouthful of the burning noodles into his mouth and let out a whimper of pain immediately after swallowing it. Tears flowed down his cheeks as he wordlessly grabbed his throat. "Shit, don't eat it when it's that hot!" Scrambling to the sink, Makoto got the Brit a semi-cool glass of water, figuring ice-cold water would just overload the system, and giving it to Quincy. The younger teen drank it hastily, the tears ebbing with every swallow. "Are you okay?" Concern, sounding so much like the concern that had filled Shoten's voice a few days before, now filled Makoto's.

"…Fine…" Quincy whispered, but he looked miserable as he wiped tears from his face.

"Shit, I'm sorry. I didn't realize you wouldn't know to wait for the noodles to cool something," Makoto said, his voice containing an anxious tone as that clenching of guilt assaulted his stomach once more.

"…My fault…"

"No it wasn't! It was mine. You can't be blamed for your ignorance," the Japanese teen insisted, shaking his head a little and moodily poking his noodles with his fork. "I'll get you another glass of water." Without waiting for a reply, Makoto grabbed the drained glass and filled it up once more, thrusting it at the Brit. As Quincy cautiously accepted it and drank some more, with that same thirst for it as before, Makoto began to realize how hungry and thirsty the Brit appeared. Why, he looked as if he hadn't eaten in a couple days he was so thin. When Quincy finished the glass of water, Makoto inquired, with all the innocence he could rally, "So, what brings a Brit like you to America?"

Quincy looked serious and now met Makoto's gaze without a hint of hesitation. "To warn you of the scientists."

Makoto blinked. That was definitely not what he'd been expecting. "The…scientists?"

Quincy nodded, and looked relieved that Makoto seemed to be getting it. The keyword being seemed. "Yes, they were the ones who attempted to kidnap you several days ago."

The teen stiffened in his seat, his dark eyes narrowing as he decided to test this Brit. "The guys in the white van?"

"No, the scientists always drive black vans." Quincy looked momentarily puzzled. "They always drive black vans when they're kidnapping a Mystical."

"A Mystical?"

"Yes, magic-users," the Brit informed him in a very matter-of-fact tone as he twirled his Ramen around his fork and lifted it cautiously to his mouth, this time not getting burned.

"Magic-users?" Makoto seemed to have been possessed by the nymph Echo, but Quincy didn't seem to mind.

"Yes, the rare humans who can use magic."

"Magic?" Makoto finally found his voice. "Wait a second, I don't believe in magic. There's no such thing as magic. All that hocus-pocus is pure bullshit."

Quincy sighed and shook his head slowly. "I'm afraid it's not, and that you are also one of the Mysticals." Ignoring Makoto's snort of derision, he continued, tone quiet but firm. "Some people can move objects with their mind, others can shift, and some can control elements like water and fire."

"Right, and what do you do?" Skepticism was evident in the Japanese teen's voice.

The youth gazed steadily at Makoto, no humor in his intense, viridian stare. "I can read minds. I'm a telepath."

(To be continued…)