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It’s the best I could do,
he cajoled himself, setting package down with both hands on the table in front of her. Mako’s eyes darted from the glistening pile of chicken wings and thighs on its austere tin foil take-out tray to the parcel, wrapped in a PPDC-issue bandanna and tied with a bit of cloudy clear shrink plastic. Humble, but neat. An old carol from his childhood mistily played in his head, one he used to hear floating out of churches in his neighborhood or sung on street corners near the shops. But the words rang true like an old bell:
What can I give him? Poor as I am?
How could he sum up the last eleven months? It had been a whirlwind year of triumph and tragedy; bruises, accolades, victory, loss, untold long nights throwing up in the bathroom, days spent drinking stale tea out of styrofoam cups in waiting rooms- waiting on results for him. Waiting on results for Tam. Being ushered politely into a stately room with solemn faces and learning that he would never pilot a jaeger again. What a year. But he couldn’t begin to fathom what Mako had gone through.
“Is that for me?” she asked in tentative Japanese, not wanting to seem presumptuous. Her earnest dark eyes did the smiling for her.
Stacker’s own face ghosted a wry grin. He folded his arms and nodded at the gift, “Sure is. Merry Christmas. I don’t know how much you celebrate it, but I think about this time we deserve a holiday.”
Everyone deserved a Christmas, even if they didn’t believe in it. That’s what his mother taught him, though she’d never said it. She worked hard every year to make a Christmas for him and Luna- an extra shift for a special lunch here, tighten the purse strings for some gifts there. Of course he didn’t appreciate it at the time, being the little shit that he was. Sentimentality was hindsight, though. Togetherness didn’t really matter when you were thirteen and all you wanted was a discman.
He’d agonized over what to give Mako. Everything you’d typically give a girl- makeup, dresses, toys, games- seemed like a cheap bribe. Sensible things like books or new boots (with her growing feet, they could never seem to find any in a size that fit, leading them to use a “wait and see” approach of having her wear a size too large) were too distant from what he wanted to communicate. And the Japanese language of gift giving added an additional cultural minefield, despite his study.
Seeing her waver, Stacker added a kindly, “Go ahead, Mako-kun.”
With that confirmation, Mako licked the chicken juice and sweet soy from her fingers in a flurry, then wiped them on a paper napkin. She primly rose to her feet, straightened her festively green sweater, and bowed.
“Thank you very much for the gift, Pentecost-sama, but I surely can’t accept.”
Stacker took that as a good sign. “Nono, it’s for you Mako. I insist.”
She didn’t seem to have the energy to refuse again, no matter what manners dictated. So with a now open smile, she sat down to untangle the plastic bow.
If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb.
She’d seemed so much younger when he saw her in the streets of Tokyo (granted, from the top of a jaeger, everyone looks like an ant). It hadn’t just been a year of physical growth for her. Before Stacker’s own eyes he’d seen her gradually unfold, so much bigger and more aware but with all of the creases intact. No matter how much she straightened, tipped her chin up like a good cadet, they would always be there. He had them too. But that wasn’t what he liked about the girl.
There was a natural curiosity just about exploding from her. He’d seen it while she did her homework or walked the Shatterdomes with him. From the inquisitive light in her eyes as she watched, asked questioned, studied- to the deftness in her fingers as she bravely and gamely tried. Mako wasn’t tentative when put forth her answers, she claimed them and their mistakes wholly. And she would try again undeterred by error. She was bright and unrelentless.
When he asked Mr. Choi for gift-giving advice, the technician suggested a breadboard for her to practice wiring, since she’d seemed interested in electronics. But Stacker didn’t want to make any assumptions (and dragging technical components from Shatterdome to Shatterdome seemed a hassle). And he very nearly caved in to his aide-de-camp, Lieutenant Ikram’s suggestion of a kitten. On more than one occasion he’d caught Mako trying to pet or sneak food to stray cats in the courtyard, but with the uncertainty of both of their lifestyles it seemed like a cruel risk for the girl and the animal. And that’s when he decided…
If I were a wise man, I would do my part.
Free from its confining ribbon, the fabric fluttered free to reveal a stack of papers. Mako’s eyes darted up in confusion. Stacker only gave her a reassuring look before she gave the pages a cursory read.
He felt like he needed to explain everything, “Those forms would make me your legal guardian- just until you’re eighteen. I requested them weeks ago… they…. It’s your decision, Mako. If you would prefer to be placed in a more appropriate home.” Even with what happened in Tokyo and his newfound notoriety with the Japanese people, there were more than a few raised eyebrows when he filed for custody. A PPDC personnel with no guarantee of survival, male, single, black… and a foreigner to boot. But he’d remained firm.
Mako’s faint voice snapped him out of his bureaucratic thoughts. “You want to adopt me, Pentecost-sama?”
Stacker knew that this was hardly traditional and definitely not the usual present for a young girl, but he felt it was necessary. There’d been waves of polite-worded missives from the Japanese government that Mako had a slough of nice, proper families wanting to adopt the “survivor child of Tokyo”. But, damn it, this was proper. It may not have been nice to most, but this was right. He adored Mako for her cleverness, her determination, her warmth, but they also shared an unmistakable bond. No one asks to be a veteran by age eleven. And those nice families, those proper families wouldn’t know what to do when the nightmares came, when the memories of horror came flooding back, when the shaking and trembling ended, how to manage to be a person again. He did; they were his, too.
He pulled a seat out next to her, jarring them both with its groan. As if communicating by sign, Stacker’s hands fluttered over the table top as he emphatically explained, “I can’t give you a quiet, ordinary life, Mako- but you are an extraordinary girl. You’ve already been through so much and come so far and I want to be there to see the exceptional person you become.”
The girl was silent for a moment before her face gave way to a sniffle, and that gave way to tears. Instantly, Stacker felt awful- the biggest ass on the Ring of Fire- until she placed a hand on his arm.
“I want this, too,” she sobbed, springing out of her chair to wrap her thin arms around him, “I want home to be with you, sensei. No one understands like you. Those other families will want a nice girl who can forget… and I can’t. I can never ever forget.” Her hands clung to the fabric of his jumper as she rested her chin on his shoulder.
“My brave girl,” he whispered, patting her head, “I don’t want you to forget. But we can’t live in the past, either. Right?” Stacker broke her desperate embrace to give a reassuring smile.
Her round face was shiny with tears, which she wiped on the too-long sleeve of her shirt. “Right,” she murmured, quiet but resolute.
“Now. Did you save me any chicken, or are you going to eat all of it by yourself?”
Mako sputtered a laugh and hopped back into her chair.
Stacker leaned forward and grabbed one of the greasy chicken legs, it was cold but tasted amazing. “You know,” he canted his head to the side, licking sauce from his lips,” If we hurry, I’ll wager mess hall still has a couple slices of Christmas cake for us? You’d like that?”
Without any doubt, she nodded, and grabbed his hand to lead him down to the canteen. Forms and fowl forgotten.
They would be there in the morning, he thought wearily, but what was important is that she accepted. He couldn’t guarantee the future (or any cake left), but he could- with all certainty- guarantee his love.
Yet what I can, I give Him. Give Him my heart.