Chapter Text
Mako didn't think he would grow up to be a farmer. His mom and dad had been fishermen and he spent his early adulthood biking around the country. It wasn't until he took an odd job on a farm tending the livestock that he realized he had a knack for it. When he finally decided to settle down, a quiet life in the country surrounded by no one but his pigs sounded like a great idea. He finally found a cheap bit of land with barn and house included. It had a corn field attached, but since he didn't plan on raising to many crops, he didn't pay it much attention. He met the owner in a local dinner to negotiate the purchase. He was an old man with a cane and grizzled beard. The purchase was going well, but it seemed to Mako that the man was anxious about something. The former biker didn't push it as he was getting the land for such a steal, he could use the money he saved to repair anything wrong with the house that the man might be trying to hide.
Everything was going smoothly until the man suddenly seemed to deflate. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this.” Mako frowned intimidatingly. Was the guy going to back out of the deal after he'd already filled out all this paperwork? Maybe this guy was getting sentimental about the place. “I thought I could go through with it, but I can't do that to you. You seem like such a nice young man.” The would-be farmer wouldn't agree with most of those descriptors but he didn't say anything. “You may think that I'm just a crazy old man, but you would have found out sooner or later if you stuck around here long enough.” His pruin spotted hands opened and closed around his cane. “That farm’s not right. It's been burned down and rebuilt more than five times over. If something happens to the house while I'm inside I'm afraid I’m too old to be able to get out in time.”
Mako tried to be as understanding as he could but he was never a people person. “I can get a fire safety inspection and if the place burns down it's my own fault.”
The man banged his cane on the ground indignantly. “You're not listening! The place is cursed. It all has to do with that damned scarecrow.” He licked his dry lips and seemed to shake slightly. “A long while ago, over a hundred years now, this whole town burned down. No one knew what caused it but they went after a foreigner that moved in recently that had a penchant for making lamp oil and fireworks. Tortured him something awful and strung him up in the cornfield.” It was good that Mako was easily able to school his face into neutrality as a lesser man's eyebrows would have left the stratosphere by now. “Few days later the body was gone and a scarecrow replaced it. Ever since then that farm’s been no good to any god fearing man.” His frenzy seemed to abate and he went back to just looking tired. “Crops burn, houses burn, pops and bangs ring through the night, and that damn scarecrow’s always movin’. Sometimes I think it moves more than I do.” He looked sadly out the diner window and Mako thought about what to do next. He really wanted that farm and frankly didn't give a damn about any haunted scarecrows.
“I still want to buy the farm.” He gave a hardened stare and hoped he could use his bulk to convince the man he could take care of himself.
The man didn't argue. He just looked very sad as he signed the last of the papers and walked out of the diner without taking his money. Mako shrugged and figured a man that old had a right to some eccentricities. He promptly go into his old truck and drove to the farm that apparently was the cause of all this fuss. It was his now and it made him proud like he hadn't felt since he was in the gang. It really felt like a new start for him. Despite his good feelings he could help but stare at the lone scarecrow in his field as he pulled in. The scarecrow seemed to stare back.