The Sandworm had rattled him.
Oh, not due to anything particularly related to the fight or anything like that. Makoto had, in the end, come out nearly unscathed and apparently uninfected, which was a relief. No, while it had been dangerous, he hadn't in the end been in a spectacular amount of danger himself.
No, it was in retrospect that he had been rattled. Rather, it was the fact that he hadn't even paused, hadn't even thought before he'd charged into the battle. He'd just...gone for it. Charged in to help and to fight.
That did not line up with what he thought of himself.
Not, he had to admit, that it was a bad thing he had done so. He had certainly done a significant amount of damage to the thing, given the way it had sprung at him multiple times, forcing him to shift rapidly.
He could recall, at some point that now seemed quite a long time ago, Kanashimi telling him his moral compass wasn't as hopeless as he thought it was.
He could recall many, many occasions on which the phoenix had told him he was a good person, that he was not as bad as he frequently thought himself to be.
When he tried to reach for his old apathy it...wasn't gone, exactly, it still took being asked for help, being ordered, or something big for him to get involved in something, but he was in no way anywhere near as detached and only interested in getting rest as he had used to be.
Since Makoto was in no mood to deal with earth-shattering revelations about the content of his character, though, he opted to do the sensible thing and go get drunk.
He wasn't a big drinker, but he happened to know a good bar, after all, and he might as well use it.
The waitresses, not to mention his friend Emiko the bartender, seemed slightly worried when he started mainlining hard alcohol, but not enough to stop him. They probably figured he could handle it, and all. Unusually, the phoenix did not try and dissuade him from this. Perhaps it had accepted his earlier explanations on how sometimes, humans needed to get drunk and forget things.
He didn't feel particularly up to heading back to his hotel in Sand, across a stretch of desert, later that night, so he reserved one of the rooms above the bar.
And woke up there the next morning, apparently intact and un-robbed, but mildly hungover and with a note stuck to his forehead.
He peeled it off, annoyed, only to discover it wasn't any kind of seal or exploding note, but an actual written note. The handwriting wasn't his, but he vaguely recalled getting it? Sometime last night? Maybe?
He headed down, absently thanked the owner, who was puttering around, for letting him stay the night, and procured and downed a glass of cold water which eased his headache and somewhat dry mouth. He'd grab breakfast quickly on the way out, but he'd checked the time, and he didn't have any to dawdle.</COLOR>
He did stop to check the note was legitimate, though, which the bar owner assured him it was. Having dealt with the woman before, this did reassure him and he got going.
The girl with the sledge and the boxes was there, just inside the gates out into the desert. She relaxed when he held the note up as he approached, especially when he allowed her to check it. He pretended he didn't notice her checking him over, too. If she thought he was too short to be a ninja, that was her problem.
"My father said he'd hire me a guard for the trip to Sand," she explained as they set out. "It's more dangerous now, he says, and he can't come with me since he needs to stay at the harbor. And these goods are a little...sensitive."
"In a way that you can't say anything, or a way that's not legal?" he asked, not especially bothered by the answer. The desert sun was not going to give his still mildly-present hangover much of a pleasant trip.
"The first," she said quickly. "It's precious cargo, but it isn't illegal at all."
"That's good. Less hassle." He rubbed his head. "So your father isn't worried about raiders, just wildlife."
"And the Cabal, since we are delivering to Sand itself," she said. "But that's unlikely. This isn't so important they would care--well, obviously not, or they wouldn't have had me haul it in, they'd do it themselves."
Seemingly relaxed from that point on, she started chattering at him animatedly, pausing only to take drags from her oversized water bottle. Her name was Mari, she loved being a merchant and loved when she came to Wind Country and loved traveling and Makoto wasn't entirely sure but he was fairly certain if he asked she would say she loved the vicious animals present in the desert.
"I'm not from Sand," he said, when it seemed like she wanted him to contribute with stories about being a Sand nin. As in, asked him directly. "I'm...foreign."
What a strange word to call himself, even if it was true to where he was then.
"Oh, I should have guessed, you sound like you're not from around here," she said, not missing a beat.
He wondered how she could tell, since he'd barely gotten three sentences in edgewise since encountering her.
She went on for a while about how she just loved ninja in general, and how it must be exciting to get to work like he did, especially since he apparently got to travel a lot (well, that part was true), and did he like Sand? Yes? That was good, it was good to travel to places you liked, even if it was for work.
It might have been the hangover talking, or the fact even Makoto could realize how abruptly she'd veered from 'isn't Sand great?' to 'isn't traveling great, and oh by the way I love all ninja' was a little odd.
Almost...like...
Two hours. That was how long it took you to determine she was flirting with you.
Dismally enough, that was actually a new record for him. In the positive direction. This whole time, then.
It really did get far too much amusement out of his various social blunders and obliviousness. Birds couldn't really laugh, but bird spirits could certainly attempt it.
He was still trying to determine what to do about this by the time they reached Sand's gates. He supposed he could just pretend he didn't notice?
But that was dashed when she turned to him and said, "Um, so...Makoto...after I drop off these crystal vials," so that's what they were, physically fragile things, "did you want to maybe...meet me at my hotel?"
Ah. Hm.
Given it was his policy not to be either overly rude or to outright lie, considering the entanglements those gave someone, he simply said straightforwardly, "If you're implying what I think you are, then I'm sorry, I lack the capacity to be attracted to anyone that way."
She stared at him for a second, and the expression on her face told him that yes, he had been correct. "O-oh." She looked away, and fiddled with the rope she was holding to drag the sledge. "Sorry. You must think I'm terribly silly."
"A bit excitable, maybe, but no, not silly." She looked back at him and he shrugged. "This isn't the first time I've heard the sentiment, even if you are the first to be so straightforward with it. But there are plenty of men in Sand, ninja even, whom you could see for something temporary."
She wasn't unattractive, after all. She just wasn't his type--because he didn't have a type, or even more bluntly, his type was no one at all.
"I suppose," she allowed. "But, um, please don't tell my father that when he pays you, okay? He doesn't need to know that."
Makoto managed to keep his lips from twitching into a smile through a supreme effort of will. "You have my word."
Oh, not due to anything particularly related to the fight or anything like that. Makoto had, in the end, come out nearly unscathed and apparently uninfected, which was a relief. No, while it had been dangerous, he hadn't in the end been in a spectacular amount of danger himself.
No, it was in retrospect that he had been rattled. Rather, it was the fact that he hadn't even paused, hadn't even thought before he'd charged into the battle. He'd just...gone for it. Charged in to help and to fight.
That did not line up with what he thought of himself.
Not, he had to admit, that it was a bad thing he had done so. He had certainly done a significant amount of damage to the thing, given the way it had sprung at him multiple times, forcing him to shift rapidly.
He could recall, at some point that now seemed quite a long time ago, Kanashimi telling him his moral compass wasn't as hopeless as he thought it was.
He could recall many, many occasions on which the phoenix had told him he was a good person, that he was not as bad as he frequently thought himself to be.
When he tried to reach for his old apathy it...wasn't gone, exactly, it still took being asked for help, being ordered, or something big for him to get involved in something, but he was in no way anywhere near as detached and only interested in getting rest as he had used to be.
Since Makoto was in no mood to deal with earth-shattering revelations about the content of his character, though, he opted to do the sensible thing and go get drunk.
He wasn't a big drinker, but he happened to know a good bar, after all, and he might as well use it.
The waitresses, not to mention his friend Emiko the bartender, seemed slightly worried when he started mainlining hard alcohol, but not enough to stop him. They probably figured he could handle it, and all. Unusually, the phoenix did not try and dissuade him from this. Perhaps it had accepted his earlier explanations on how sometimes, humans needed to get drunk and forget things.
He didn't feel particularly up to heading back to his hotel in Sand, across a stretch of desert, later that night, so he reserved one of the rooms above the bar.
And woke up there the next morning, apparently intact and un-robbed, but mildly hungover and with a note stuck to his forehead.
He peeled it off, annoyed, only to discover it wasn't any kind of seal or exploding note, but an actual written note. The handwriting wasn't his, but he vaguely recalled getting it? Sometime last night? Maybe?
He headed down, absently thanked the owner, who was puttering around, for letting him stay the night, and procured and downed a glass of cold water which eased his headache and somewhat dry mouth. He'd grab breakfast quickly on the way out, but he'd checked the time, and he didn't have any to dawdle.</COLOR>
City gates, 9 AM. Girl with boxes on a sledge needs an escort to Suna. Appreciated.
<COLOR color="#0086CE">He did stop to check the note was legitimate, though, which the bar owner assured him it was. Having dealt with the woman before, this did reassure him and he got going.
The girl with the sledge and the boxes was there, just inside the gates out into the desert. She relaxed when he held the note up as he approached, especially when he allowed her to check it. He pretended he didn't notice her checking him over, too. If she thought he was too short to be a ninja, that was her problem.
"My father said he'd hire me a guard for the trip to Sand," she explained as they set out. "It's more dangerous now, he says, and he can't come with me since he needs to stay at the harbor. And these goods are a little...sensitive."
"In a way that you can't say anything, or a way that's not legal?" he asked, not especially bothered by the answer. The desert sun was not going to give his still mildly-present hangover much of a pleasant trip.
"The first," she said quickly. "It's precious cargo, but it isn't illegal at all."
"That's good. Less hassle." He rubbed his head. "So your father isn't worried about raiders, just wildlife."
"And the Cabal, since we are delivering to Sand itself," she said. "But that's unlikely. This isn't so important they would care--well, obviously not, or they wouldn't have had me haul it in, they'd do it themselves."
Seemingly relaxed from that point on, she started chattering at him animatedly, pausing only to take drags from her oversized water bottle. Her name was Mari, she loved being a merchant and loved when she came to Wind Country and loved traveling and Makoto wasn't entirely sure but he was fairly certain if he asked she would say she loved the vicious animals present in the desert.
"I'm not from Sand," he said, when it seemed like she wanted him to contribute with stories about being a Sand nin. As in, asked him directly. "I'm...foreign."
What a strange word to call himself, even if it was true to where he was then.
"Oh, I should have guessed, you sound like you're not from around here," she said, not missing a beat.
He wondered how she could tell, since he'd barely gotten three sentences in edgewise since encountering her.
She went on for a while about how she just loved ninja in general, and how it must be exciting to get to work like he did, especially since he apparently got to travel a lot (well, that part was true), and did he like Sand? Yes? That was good, it was good to travel to places you liked, even if it was for work.
It might have been the hangover talking, or the fact even Makoto could realize how abruptly she'd veered from 'isn't Sand great?' to 'isn't traveling great, and oh by the way I love all ninja' was a little odd.
Almost...like...
Two hours. That was how long it took you to determine she was flirting with you.
Dismally enough, that was actually a new record for him. In the positive direction. This whole time, then.
It really did get far too much amusement out of his various social blunders and obliviousness. Birds couldn't really laugh, but bird spirits could certainly attempt it.
He was still trying to determine what to do about this by the time they reached Sand's gates. He supposed he could just pretend he didn't notice?
But that was dashed when she turned to him and said, "Um, so...Makoto...after I drop off these crystal vials," so that's what they were, physically fragile things, "did you want to maybe...meet me at my hotel?"
Ah. Hm.
Given it was his policy not to be either overly rude or to outright lie, considering the entanglements those gave someone, he simply said straightforwardly, "If you're implying what I think you are, then I'm sorry, I lack the capacity to be attracted to anyone that way."
She stared at him for a second, and the expression on her face told him that yes, he had been correct. "O-oh." She looked away, and fiddled with the rope she was holding to drag the sledge. "Sorry. You must think I'm terribly silly."
"A bit excitable, maybe, but no, not silly." She looked back at him and he shrugged. "This isn't the first time I've heard the sentiment, even if you are the first to be so straightforward with it. But there are plenty of men in Sand, ninja even, whom you could see for something temporary."
She wasn't unattractive, after all. She just wasn't his type--because he didn't have a type, or even more bluntly, his type was no one at all.
"I suppose," she allowed. "But, um, please don't tell my father that when he pays you, okay? He doesn't need to know that."
Makoto managed to keep his lips from twitching into a smile through a supreme effort of will. "You have my word."