Match of the Millennium

Description: [CW: mild self harm] Having given her what feels like a safe amount of time to deal with the aftermath, Rei Hazuki tracks down Junko for a little "what's next?" conversation that goes to some decidedly unexpected places...

[JUNKO]
It's surprisingly difficult to find somewhere to be alone in a major metropolis, as it turns out. Unfamiliar with such vast edifices and handicapped by her inability to navigate based on sight, Junko had spent the better part of two days wandering the city before managing to find her way to a place that wasn't crowded to the point of claustrophobia. Which isn't to say that the slums of Metro City are abandoned. The ranks of the poor and the needy are ever bristling with fresh recruits as fortunes rise and fall. But among these dilapidated buildings and run-down shelters there are enough spaces tucked away and forgotten for a young girl to vanish off the face of the earth.

If she had the strength to do so, the miko would have found a soft spot in the ground and just started digging. At least if she was buried in some dark deep hole then the odds of her causing problems for someone else would be nigh on impossible. But, surrounded by miles of unbroken concrete road and artificial foundations, tucking herself into the most secluded corner she can find is a decent alternative.

For the most part the locals have left her be. A few thugs tried to mug her not long after she arrived but after the first display of her fiery temper they quickly reconsidered. Either word had spread of that encounter or she did an excellent job of picking her hiding place because since then she's heard nary a peep from anything save the local rats. They too earned themselves a demonstration of her pyroclastic fury, if only to quiet the grumbling of her stomach. While she could go for literal weeks without food or water, based on past experience, her time living in the Thunderdome had acclimated once more to the idea of daily meals. Half-burnt rodent was definitely a step down from the fare she'd enjoyed there but it did the job of filling her belly enough to let her focus her brooding on more important matters.

She's screwed up. There was no way to paint her actions in anything vaguely resembling a positive or relatable manner. Despite knowing that her control was likely not up to the task of keeping the flames of Suzaku in check she had willingly entered the arena yet again. Despite all of the reassurances offered by the lawyers and representatives that everyone involved in the NFG was aware of the risk, the reaction to her brutality was clearly not one of understanding and acceptance.

Junko inhales slowly as she goes over the events of that afternoon again. Like some kind of filthy pig, she finds herself unable to do anything but wallow in the past, coating herself with it over and over again until the memories have seeped into every nook and recess of her mind before hardening into a rough coating that makes everything unpleasant.

In a weird sort of way it feels strangely comfortable to be back in this spot mentally. Here she knows exactly what to expect, what to feel and why. Even if all that she can look forward to is misery and loneliness at least she knows how to deal with that. Her time in the NFG has been nothing but one long parade of anxiety. Who can she trust? What can she tell them? How should she act here? What should she say in this situation? Almost every waking moment since arriving she's been struggling to figure out what her place is in this new world and what the future holds for her.

For a brief and pleasant moment, the answer to that question seemed to be full of hope and possibility. Despite her starting things off horribly with her handling of Ichika's forceful attempt to punch through the barrier she had put up to ward others away there were others who had made a specific effort to try and get through to her. In fact, there were so many people reaching out to her, each with their own ideas and advice on what she should do, that it started to drive her crazy.

And when she finally broke down and allowed someone to get close, despite all of her efforts and every instinct telling her it was a terrible idea, what did she do? Immediately screwed up and dragged Chevy down with her. She shouldn't have allowed someone as kind and thoughtful as the American hayseed to get involved with her. The only reward anyone has ever received for associating with a monster like her is betrayal and pain. The trip to the hospital had reiterated that point very clearly.

Knowing people like she does, it seemed fairly obvious to her that Chevy would try to follow her eventually. That disastrous encounter was the only her first exposure to the sort of hatred and vitriol that was drawn to the miko of calamity. She probably laid most of the blame on Coco instead of putting it where it actually belonged. Those two seemed to have some sort of history of animosity which would cloud her friend's judgement. She would seek Junko out and in so doing invite more trouble down upon herself. Maybe she even believed it was worth it.

"Fool..."

Junko whispers to herself, laying her head down atop her folded arms. While she couldn't see what sort of building she had sequestered herself in, she'd found a set of stairs leading down into an underground storage area of some sort. Cold, damp, and miserable, it suited her mood perfectly.

Tucked into the furthest corner she could find, she sat with her back against the wall, knees tucked up into her chest, a half-used cigarette loosely hanging from her lips. She didn't actually need the addictive chemicals laced into the smokes but burning things helped keep Suzaku pacified most days and this was a socially acceptable way to do that. Not that she much cared about that any more.

As the girl's eyes started to drift closed, she hoped it would at least help ward away the worst of the nightmares she knew would come. The dark visions of death and destruction, of screaming children and wailing adults as they were consumed slowly by an unholy scarlet flame until naught but a world of ash and smoke remained. They always did.

[FREI]
He's not a drinker, but Rei Hazuki had been in a bar during Junko's match with Coco, drinking small batch ginger beer and eating popcorn out of a little bowl. By the time Chevy had arrived onstage to pull her away, it felt like he'd decided his course of action, taking a big sip of 10x markup ginger ale, setting it on the bar, and going: "Welp. Gonna have to do something about THAT."

The looks he got from the bros in the bar watching the fight were entertaining, but probably not half as funny as the expressions on their faces once Rei had left and the bartender told them who that was.

Finding Junko in this city isn't complicated. In fact, for the xian at least, NOT finding her would be harder; the girl's aura, as a result of her particular circumstances, might as well be firing a signal flare into the sky from her location at regular intervals. So the problem wasn't finding her. The problem was, well...

You could, if you were a conspiracy theorist, actually make a photo college of a dimly visible in the background redhead in a sleeveless changshan of various places Junko's been the past few days: the hospital visit. The Thunderdome. Various back alleys, shelters, doorways, and other slum-zone miscellany. But in each case, it was never really the right time. There was always SOMETHING: too many other people, Junko's emotional state being too weirdly unstable, time of day, or any of a thousand things. This was a thing where you'd need to pick the exact right moment.

"So, you screwed up," comes a pleasant-enough voice, clear as a bell, from somewhere in Junko's vicinity.

If she looks for the voice, she can find Rei sitting on the edge of a fire escape nearby, legs slowly kicking back and forth; if her gaze turns his way, he looks back at her with a little wave.

"Ready to talk about it?"

[JUNKO]
At first, the miko doesn't respond to the presence of another voice. Already halfway drifted off to sleep, she dismisses it as yet another figment of her tortured mind calling her out for her mistakes. But as groggy as she is, the sense of another heat source manages to catch her attention before she completely nods off.

The teen's head snaps up suddenly, her eyes wide at the sudden realization that she's no longer alone. Unfolding from her curled up spot against the wall, Junko is on her feet in a flash, scarlet flame already dancing in her eyes and around her balled up fists. But, when she turns to face the source of this unexpected intrusion, she finds not another foolish thug hoping to claim easy prey but something far less desirable.

Junko stares at the xian in silence for several seconds, her mask of rage slowly relaxing into an unpleasant scowl. The flames around her hands snuff out eventually and the darkness is quick to rush back in to fill the void leaving only the supernatural glow of her molten irises and the cherry red tip of her mostly burnt smoke to cast faint illumination on the miko's face.

Flopping back down onto the floor, the girl pulls her legs up into her chest and wraps her arms around them once more, resting her chin on the shelf created by her knees. Despite her blindness, she pointedly turns her face away from Rei and gives a very teenage huff of annoyance. She had thought herself well beyond finding in this place. Stupid mages and their stupid powers.

"Go away. There's nothing to talk about."

[FREI]
That... actually gets a laugh out of the redhead. "Ha! Haha, oh man, are you wrong THERE," he says, bringing a hand up and rubbing the back of his neck. Truthfully, Rei didn't know which version of Junko he was going to find out here, because predicting that feels like drawing omikuji: you could get good fortune or just as easily get exactly the opposite. Will it be the lonely girl who just wants connection? The angry girl giving in to the whispers in her head? Something in between?

Seems like we got 'sullen girl hiding in her room,' a song and dance Rei knows better than one might think from his own childhood. What would Isis do in this situation, he wonders, for the briefest of seconds.

No wonder they never got along. This whole parenting (or, parenting-adjacent) thing is HARD.

The xian's legs continue their lazy sway as he stays on his perch. "Nope, there is plenty to talk about, and I've given you plenty of time and space to get your bearings before I charged in, but uh... this is happening, kiddo, whether you like it or not. I'd suggest making it easier on yourself and just hearing me out."

[JUNKO]
When Junko was a little girl, well before all of this misfortune had been brought down on her by her own foolishness, she had been incredibly well behaved. Weighed down by the responsibilities of leading the clan, her father was a very practical and strict man but always kind and fair. No matter how busy he was, he'd always made time to hear about to her problems or pull her aside and explain when she'd done something wrong. He never yelled because he didn't have to. He had the sort of presence that made her want to listen when he spoke because it was always worth her time.

By contrast, her mother was the kind of person to fuss over every little thing. While her father focused on dealing with the actual problems of day to day operation, Junko's mother dealt with customs and social graces. Her clothes had to be just right, her hair needed to be styled just so, she had to wear this specific necklace today because it was a gift from an influential family and they were coming to visit the shrine. As the daughter of the clan leader, she had an image to uphold and her mother was always ready to bombard her with praise or condemnation depending on her performance in public.

As frustrating and overbearing as both of them could be at times, Junko never minded having to deal with them because they were her parents and she loved them dearly.

The person standing in front of her now, demanding her time and attention, is not her parent. Her father and her mother are not here now to pass on their wisdom and love, nor will they ever do so again.

Because she killed them both a long time ago.

And she's done pretending to be the good girl.

Scarlet energy erupts from Junko like a volcanic detonation as she leaps to her feet, rage washing out of her in a tidal wave of unholy flame. The entirety of the basement floods with heat and light, hatred-laced fire scorching the crumbling brick and mortar into solid black surfaces within instants.

A scream of pure frustration and angst pours of the girl with such force that it almost seems to have a physical impact, her half-god soul manifesting that raw emotion as power.

"LEAVE! ME! ALONE!"

[FREI]
No... Rei Hazuki is not Junko's parent. That much is definite. A parent would, likely, be here to comfort her. Help her. Be in her corner. Even if their love is stern, it's still... well, parental love. There truly is no substitute for it. But even if there were?

He isn't here to provide it.

When he was speaking with Ichika mere days ago, the xian emphasized that his personal philosophy, his way of existing in the world, emphasized balance. For light to exist, dark must also. For good to be meaningful, evil most oppose it. Death is the contrast that gives purpose to the act of living. And balances do not need to be dyads; the cycles of the universe exist in trios, quartets, any variation imaginable, really.

Junko and Rei's last meeting involved one aspect of this. He tried compassion, reason, understanding. He saw in her -- hoped to spark in the miko her *own* awareness of -- the potential to push back against the harsh destiny she had been dealt. 'Remember, she's a victim too,' he'd said to Ichika. And that was the truth.

Flame roars outward from the angry young woman's body, and Rei slips from his perch, landing on the nearby floor, extending a hand palm out. He would hesitate to call it 'power', but the... knowledge, the UNDERSTANDING, that his enlightenment provided to the xian was not the power to overcome, but the ability to transmute, to bring back into balance.

The difference between a comforting warm flame and a painful inferno is a matter of degrees. Junko's anger is a blossom, but the root, the stem of that flower is loneliness and hurt. He truly believes that she, the person, does not want to hurt... and if that's the case, then the desire not to hurt is somewhere in that roaring rose of flame. All that's required is to find that core, and coax it forward. Flower, to flame, to flower.

Around Rei's body, the flame nearest him becomes lotus petals, which drift and then vanish, the redhead's eyes closed as if he were on a peaceful summer afternoon.

When the green-eyed gaze opens again, however...

Even Rei Hazuki can be stern.

"Feel better?" he asks, conversationally, bringing his hand down. "I'm not leaving, and -- sorry to say -- you don't have it in you to force me to do so, right now. I'm going to be heard whether you like it or not, so my *strong suggestion* is that you accept that fact sooner rather than later. But if you want to throw another tantrum to get the venom out, well."

A faint smile tugs at his lips. "I pretty much have all the time in the world. Believe me on that one."

[JUNKO]
The funny thing about rage is that, contrary to what one might expect, attempting to counteract it with reason and calm usually only makes it worse. The xian's pours his measured response onto the flames of Junko's fury which reacts as explosively as if it were a canister of gasoline.

While it is true that at her core the miko is a kind and sweet girl who cares deeply about the well-being of others and would never wish the sort of agony and harm that her cursed flames can inflict upon others, it is equally true that her wishes and desires are no longer solely the product of her own mind. Suzaku's twisted presence is like a red-hot coal lodged into her chest - intense, hot, and eternal.

There is no trick of the mind that allows her to overcome such an influence, no discipline or mastery of the self that can truly blot out such an overwhelming force of nature. The scales of balance are permanently tipped within her soul, the soft passive Yin violently overwhelmed by the forceful dominance of the Yang, black smothered by blinding all-consuming white rage. Only through the application of powerful magic is she held together at all but after years of being bound to a enraged demon the wear on her sanity is obvious.

Screaming with wordless rage, the girl hurls herself at Rei. That she has little to no chance to actually overcome him with her current level of control has no bearing on the decision making process in her head. Emotion drives her now, wild and unrestrained. There is no reason behind her reaction save to satisfy an unnatural hunger for conflict and to exert a measure of control over the world around her.

God-like energy flows barely restrained through mortal flesh with the predictable result. Scarlet fire shrouds her fists as she delivers a barrage of savage blows, eagerly consuming skin and flesh as penance for the power it gives her. With no regard for the damage she inflicts upon herself and no matter how many times she might be cast aside, the avatar of fury and fire hurls herself over and over at the subject of her rage.

Riled up as she is, Junko's hatred serves as a conduit for that wicked power, burning brighter and hotter than ever. It doesn't take long for the toll of this frenzy of violence to wear her down. Such power was never meant to be wielded by human hands, much less those as inexperienced and reckless as her own. In less than a minute the girl's hands have been reduced down to little more than burnt husks, ghastly skeletal remains which she continues to defiantly swing at Rei even as her strength fails and the gap between each blow grows wider and wider.

As her body begins to fail, she replaces the physical outrage with spoken vitriol, punctuating each feeble punch with hateful words.

"Damare! What do you know?! Nothing! I already tried listening to your 'wisdom'! And look how -that- turned out!"

Emotion pours out of the girl without restraint. It chokes her up, forcing her to pause long enough to look away in a pitiful attempt to hide the tears starting to fall down her cheeks.

"I told you...! I -told- you this is how it would end! That I would hurt people! That I was cursed!"

Her fingers clench tightly at her sides, the burnt remains somehow still responding to her commands despite the lack of functional flesh attached to them in a grim display of the supernatural power residing within. The agony coursing through her arms makes the girl grimace, her teeth clenching to hard that it seems she might grind her molars apart. She cocks her arm back and delivers another wild series of punches, violence proving to be a satisfying outlet for the pain both without and within.

"Bakayarou! Baka! Baka baka baka!"

[FREI]
The phrase 'with infuriating calm' developed for a reason, certainly; Rei has no illusions that his seeming nonchalance in the face of Junko's expression of fury is going to do anything more than make it worse.

In fact, he's counting on it.

Energy can neither be created nor destroyed in a closed system: the law of conservation of energy. Rei is no physicist, but it's an easily-digestible little bit of quantum physics that he's come to rather enjoy on a philosophical level. When energy is 'spent' -- used for some purpose -- it never goes away, it simply changes: disperses, transubstantiates. Something. Junko might feel like the fires of her anger are inexhaustible, and in terms of the availability of ambient chi to fuel them THAT is probably true... but possessing spirit or no, those flames are moved by a human will.

Even anger is a fire that can't burn forever.

The red-haired xian seems unbothered (and, importantly, unburned) by the miko's combined physical and verbal assaults, which he weathers with... well, infuriating calm. From his point of view, what would the alternative be? Physically restrain her? Try to stop her, which he could probably do... but not without hurting her, and she's doing a good enough job of that herself right this second. The cost to him in letting her scream and fight it out is low, and the potential benefit (from his point of view) is high... an argument proven right when he can see -- FEEL -- the tears welling up behind the violent outburst. Anger is motivation for change, but like flame, it burns things to keep itself going... resources in the mind and heart that are just as limited as firewood to keep a bonfire going. They can't last forever on their own without changing into something else.

"How long are you going to go on blaming others, Junko?" he asks, quietly but firmly, into the first gap that exists for him to do so. She can keep on punching, burning, whatevering him if she needs to, but the sagacious immortal has decided he's going to be heard out whether she likes it or not... and given the message he's come to deliver, she's probably not going to like it very much at all.

"The last time we talked, I said it pretty clearly: your choices are yours, and yours alone. What actions you take, what things you do: *your* choices. And I said the fight to make better choices, positive changing choices, was going to hurt.

"The... thing in your head, trying to influence you. The pain from your past, reminding you. They're real. They make the choices hard. But you can't push what happened onto that and pretend like you had *nothing to do with it*," Rei says, voice maddeningly even, green eyes flat. "'I followed your advice and look where it got me' is you pushing the blame onto me, but I was THERE for my advice. My advice was 'take responsibility,' actually. So let me ask, again: you messed up. What are you going to do about it?"

[JUNKO]
As Rei had inferred not but a short minute ago, Junko has no real desire to inflict harm. Their previous encounters had shown the man to be thoroughly capable of defending himself against her powers. He had even done what she thought impossible and quelled the rage of a living god. A god weakened by both magical seals and an inconvenient bond with a mortal soul, perhaps, but a god none-the-less.

It is with that knowledge in mind that she has allowed herself to vent her frustration in ways the miko would normally never indulge. Rei is the perfect punching bag, someone who can take all of her fury and live to tell about it. And, judging by the vehemence with which she is taking advantage of this opportunity, she has more than a few issues to work out right now.

By the time the girl has tuckered herself out long enough to give her mentor an opportunity to speak the entire interior of the old basement is practically pitch black with ash and soot. Most of the exposed wood and drywall has been burnt to smoldering cinders filling the enclosed space with a haze of dense smoky fog. Bits of black matter cling to Junko's hair and skin staining both so thoroughly that she looks like a 16th century chimney sweep who just finished a shift at the local smokehouse.

Unsurprisingly, the quality silk shirt that the miko seems to be fond of wear has likewise become a casualty of her tantrum, the delicate and highly flammable fabric proving yet again to be a remarkably poor fashion decision considering her propensity for self-inflicted immolation. As always, the surface of her exposed flesh is wallpapered with dozens of protective ofuda, each of them dedicated to the sole task of keeping the demon god contained within her flesh. The kanji at the center of each neatly painted ward burns a brilliant scarlet red creating a patchwork of ominously glowing symbols across her torso and arms.

Staggering backwards from her latest futile strike, Junko slumps forward unsteadily, glowering with simmering anger at the xian. The miko's shoulders heave with the effort of her tantrum, sweat pouring down her face and back from such unrestrained exertion. Breath after breath is sucked into burning lungs, mouth hanging open like some kind of beached fish. Her fatigue offers a brief respite from the shouting and hitting, long enough to pose his question to her at the least.

Unsurprisingly, the teen doesn't look particularly happy with the words he throws at her. Abigail had said much the same thing when he barged into that mess in the hospital. He accused her of trying to shift the blame onto someone else, to play the victim in order to garner pity for herself. But nothing could be further from the truth. Junko had gone there specifically because she blamed -herself- for what happened. She had joined Chevy in her visit to apologize, not throw fault at the feet of someone who had clearly done nothing wrong.

Well, not until that outburst of complete insanity, any ways. But even that could be considered her fault, in a way. People who encountered Junko often reacted very differently to the disasters she towed in her wake. While being accused of conspiring with others to lay someone low is a new one to add to her list, that's only because until now she's never had anyone around who might be considered an ally. Hysteria and wild panic are pretty common though and she should have been mindful of the possibility so soon after the incident in question. Another mistake to throw on the pyre.

"You think I don't know that?!"

Junko waves a burnt hand through the air angrily, swiping not at Rei but the lingering accusation before her as if she might smash it aside. Tears run down her face as she glares at him, leaving smudged trails through the ash smeared across her cheeks.

"You think I don't know that it is all -my- fault?! Of course I know that! I knew it would be my fault before I took one step down this stupid path!"

The miko takes a step forward and drives another punch at the xian, fully expecting it to be stopped. The scarlet flames continue to burn and consume, inflicting further pain and destruction, punishing the person responsible for everything leading up to this point. Junko's jaw clenches as molten flame courses through her veins, biting back a gasp as Suzaku's corrupted power torments her flesh and mind in equal measure.

She hadn't been accusing Rei of being responsible for the mess she finds herself in now, not really. Her words had meant to be explanation for her choice to return to solitude, her reason for giving up on the idea of redemption.

'I tried and this was the result.'

Of course, her choice of words was not exactly diplomatic. For someone who was raised to understand the fine nuances of social etiquette she has a remarkable ability to ignore any measure of grace or tact and say things that can be misconstrued or give offense. Suzaku's influence, perhaps, or simply a lack of care on her part. After all, why bother with decorum when you're an outcast hated and reviled by all?

"What do you expect from me," she asks, her voice starting to break from the strain of her emotion. "I tried to take responsibility! I -tried- to apologize! Just like I have a hundred times before!"

Memories flash through her mind, images of faces she used to know, people she had seen before her sight was taken away. The screams of horror. The smell of fear and burnt flesh. Accusations and stones hurled at her in equal measure. It all played out the same every time. If Chevy hadn't been there to stay Abigail's hand he probably would have done something violent in retaliation and who knows how Suzaku would have responded to that. The idea of the demon taking control in the middle of all those sick and injured people...

"It -always- turns out the same way."

She lowers her head, hiding her eyes behind the curtain of pale bangs. Ruined hands drop to her side, useless and smoldering.

"Better I never tried at all."

[FREI]
"I didn't say it was all your fault," Rei says, infinitely and probably annoyingly calm. He is making an effort to be still, since it is clear that Junko feels a need to be motive; the girl's restlessness is palpable, even putting aside her need to let the emotional violence she's feeling inside explode out as physical activity. From his point of view, she could probably use something solid and unmoving, anyway. When sailing unfamiliar waters, landmarks are key.

Lowering his head a bit, the xian regards the young miko with the same expression he's been wearing since he arrived. "Blame is unimportant, Junko. It's a game that everyone can play forever if they want, and it has no real end. Blame is a way of saying 'well, THIS is responsible, and nothing else is', and life is rarely so cut and dry. And I get why you, or Coco, or anyone else might be interested in blame."

A pause, and then a mild shrug from Rei. "I don't care about blame, though. There's enough to go around. You have a hostile presence sealed inside your body that's inextricably twined with your actual soul. That MATTERS, but we can't do anything about that at the moment, so what good does blame do?" He holds out a hand, palm up, as if considering an object he were holding. "I saw that fight. I don't know this Coco girl, but I can tell you as an observer, she was hardly a saint. So you can blame her too, but what's done is done, so what good does blame do?"

Turning back to Junko, he watches the girl's body language become as closed as possible: eyes hooded, posture slumped, arms slack. Postures of obvious defeat.

Well, that won't do. But, well... we tried honey. Maybe some vinegar is required.

"None of this is about responsibility, or apologizing. This is about you having a challenge before you -- pushing back on this destroyer's impulse in your head -- and not succeeding at it. It's about what you do NOW, that the mistake has been made. Apologies, responsibility... that's all restitution. Absolution. Different scenario."

If Junko decides to meet his gaze, she will find a light, even a -- dare we say it -- fire in the green eyes looking back at her, and a firmness in the voice, that is very different from the version of Rei she last spoke to.

"You can choose to say 'I tried it once and it didn't work' and give up. But I'm warning you: there are consequences to that choice much worse than the pain of picking the pieces back up and trying again."

He hears Ichika's words in his head, again, as he has multiple times while trying to figure out what to do here: 'But as I see it now... there is power in this world that hurts everyone it touches. And there are people in this world who do the same. Only harm. I am comfortable saying that such things should not exist. Any balance that requires them, is one which is not worth preserving.'

Yeah... there are consequences. Avoidable ones, if he can just give Junko the right *push*.

[JUNKO]
For the moment, Junko is calm, her anger spent.

Well, that's not entirely true. Her rage is Suzaku's rage, her fury a wellspring tied to the eternal and undying. There's enough malice and hatred brewing inside of her to melt a hole in the earth. She'd burn down the whole world if it were within her body's power to withstand the unbridled choler of an angry god. But her body is almost spent which is enough to leave the distraught girl with no more energy to vent her outrage in a physical sense.

All this talk about blame falls on mostly deaf ears. She's known from the start whose shoulders the culpability would fall on when things inevitably went wrong. After all, who would know more about being responsible for tragedy than she?

Junko turns her head away slightly, fists clenching in frustration. She's never once tried to run away from what she'd done, never once held anyone accountable for the mistakes she'd made but herself. Yet everyone wants to talk down to her like she doesn't understand the source of all this misery and pain. Like she doesn't know what a royal fuck up she was and continues to be.

Behold, Daidoji Junko, scion of an ancient line now dead by her own hands, heir to the throne of a blasted ruin! Someone so wildly incompetent she can't even have a damn sparring match without melting half her opponent's face off. Her parents must be so proud.

Challenge.

Hah!

What a banal way to describe it, as if the obstacles in her life were hills to be climbed with a modicum of effort. Learning to play the flute was challenge. Memorizing all of the various types of monsters and demons that she would be expected to be familiar with was a challenge. Overcoming her shyness in order to perform her role in the ritual ceremonies during the yearly festivals was a challenge.

She has the living essence of a damned -kami- inside of her! One hellbent on turning her into an avatar for its vengeful rage. Every single day of her life since their bonding has been nothing short of a nightmare, a constant war within for her very soul. She's been fighting for so long that she doesn't even remember what it's like to not be angry and paranoid, second-guessing every little stray thought that runs through her head as if it might be the missive of an enemy spy.

She's tired; so damn tired. Fighting against herself is exhausting enough. Having to deal with all of the stress of keeping people safe from her own stupidity and temper is proving to be too much. She can't handle this any more. And the one person she found who might have been an oasis in this endless desert of suffering had simply been dragged down into the quicksand alongside her.

What's worse is that this isn't Junko's first time experiencing this very scenario. She'd seen it before. She knew what to expect. And still she selfishly allowed her guard to drop so that she could try and feel a small sliver of happiness. If she was looking for a way to offload the guilt for that, the girl could simply tell herself that she was desperate. Not in her right state of mind. But that would be an obvious lie. And she's past being able to delude herself with such convenient falsehoods.

"I did not try -once-!"

Aggravated at this misrepresentation of her efforts, Junko lifts her head to skewer the xian with an indignant glower.

"You think this is the first time I've tried to reach out?! To push back against the corruption? Do you know how many people are dead because of my damned persistence?!"

Whirling around, the miko lifts one of her feet, now bare save for the burnt remains of her shoes, and drives a heel at the nearest wall. Scarlet power erupts from the impact, sending shards of masonry shrapnel flying in all directions. She might not be able to get a satisfying result out of attacking Rei but the old bricks in here enjoy no such protection against her wrath.

"What of those consequences?!"

Kneeling down in the ash, she scoops up one of the pieces of burnt brick and thrusts it the xian's face.

"The only pieces left to pick up are scorched bones and handfuls of ash!"

[FREI]
"Then die."

The red-haired xian drops the words into the conversation as if he had said something as casual as 'take a deep breath'. Nothing in the still water surface of Rei's face says that this is a joke or him doing a bit. But there is also no compassion, no 'I don't really want you to' in his tone, either.

"Your suffering is great. Alright. Everything you touch turns to ash, by your reckoning. Alright. You've tried all this before and it hasn't worked, which... I only have your say so to go on, but I've no reason to doubt. Alright."

There's a crunch as the broken brick and glass underfoot is stepped on, Rei taking a step, then another, into the room farther before coming to a stop again. Moving slightly, purposefully, and economically. "Sounds to me like there's not a lot of reasons to keep going, then. From how you've expressed this, letting your life end would solve lots of problems. You would stop suffering. You'd stop hurting others without intending to. You'd be free of the presence in your head."

The flat, nearly toneless way of speaking is... very much at odds with how this individual has presented himself to date. Yet the tilt of the head, the gaze he gives Junko after having said all that, is a brief return to known form.

"Yet here you are. You could very easily end it, but you've chosen not to. If you've tried so many times before and failed to reach out, then what brought you to the NFG? Why leave whatever reclusive shrine you called home? Answer me that, Daidouji Junko. Dying would solve every problem you have, yet *here* *you* *are*. So why is that?"

[JUNKO]
Die.

Yes, that certainly would solve all of her problems. And she'd be lying if she said it wasn't an appealing solution some days. But, as it seems to be with all of the halfway decent options she has at her disposal, that choice would ultimately be a selfish one.

In the aftermath of her terrible decision, the village had come together to decide what to do about her. Understandably, many believed her actions those deserving of harsh punishment. Loved ones and friends had died because of her selfish desire to extend the life of a man who was fated to suffer for the good of all. How many other people had lost their fathers that day when she threw caution to the wind in favor of saving her own? How much pain had she wrought with her childish arrogance and disregard for consequence?

In the end, the only thing that kept her neck off the literal chopping block was fear and uncertainty. No one had ever seen something like her before, a mortal soul fused so intricately with the soul of a demon god. Would killing her destroy the demon as well? Or simply free it from the only bonds keeping it at bay? Ultimately, no one had any concrete answers to give and the risk was too great. Were Suzaku unleashed upon the world there is not telling what chaos and destruction he might unleash before being contained, if indeed it was even possible to do so again.

The cruel irony was not lost on the girl, even at such a young age. The only thing that was keeping her from joining her parents in the afterlife was the very choice that had sent them there to begin with. For all she knows, it might not even be possible for her to die any more. Suzaku certainly seemed to take a vested interest in protecting her mortal shell from permanent harm. Her burns always healed, her skin as hale and unblemished as a newborn babe. She has broken bones and torn tendons, suffered cuts and lacerations that would leave even grown men disabled, stumbled from great heights in her blindness and gone for weeks without food or water. Always the pain recedes, her flesh renewed.

"Even if I wanted to... I would just be putting people at risk with my selfishness yet again."

The girl's arm drops limp at her side again, the charred rock tumbling from ruined fingers. Her chin lowers again and she stares at the floor, sighing softly through her nose. His second question is one that many people have likely wondered at considering her obvious reluctance to interact with others. The answer is probably a lot more simple than he realizes.

"Honor," she says, after considering his words for a few moment. "It is one of the few things I have left that the kami cannot take from me."

To someone born in the modern era, something as simple as that might seem like an incredibly stupid reason to go through all of the trouble that she's created for herself by joining this tournament. Concepts like honor and integrity seemed to have long since lost the incredible importance they once held. Sure, people still value them, but when was the last time someone sacrificed their life to protect their honor? Or, more pertinently, for the sake of someone else's honor?

By screwing up in such a dramatic manner, Junko had cast shame upon not only herself but that of her entire lineage. Though she would never place the blame for her selfish actions on anyone but herself, many people had started to cast doubts upon the character of her parents in the aftermath. If she had been raised properly, this would never have happened. Obviously they had spoiled her and her entitlement led her to disregard the safety of the whole clan to satisfy herself. Sentiment such as that had poisoned all of the good deeds her parents were responsible for, forever leaving a black mark in the history books and hearts of her clan.

"My uncle is head of the clan now," she says softly but resolutely, glancing up at Rei through her bangs. "He asked me to participate. To fight and win. I cannot do anything less than obey. I owe my people that much, at the very least."

[FREI]
Honor. Hmmm.

Rei appears to actually, and seriously, consider that answer, once it's offered. Honor. A word so conceptually... something that most etymologies of it are words from other languages that just mean 'honor'. In the way that Junko almost certainly means it -- in the way that something like bushido is considered a 'code of honor' -- it simply means doing things that are considered right and good. We 'honor' those who do the right thing, the good thing, even after their deaths... in fact, ESPECIALLY after their deaths.

But then there's idea of 'honoring' a promise or a pact, even if you *disagree* with it. To 'dishonor' someone might be to publicly point out their flaws or transgressions, which would 'remove their honor'. Even that, though, comes down to one thing.

Honor is a thing you DO, not a thing you HAVE, is the conclusion the xian reaches. He doesn't say this aloud, however; that appears to be a discussion for another day.

"Honor's not nothing," he admits with a shrug. "You have to choose a life you can life with, and if honor's important to you, it's not a bad reason to do things. Honor is deeply tied to morality, after all."

The REST, though...

The redhead seems about to open his mouth and ask a question, and then something stops him. It's obvious to any onlooker that he was about to speak and changed his mind, though who knows if Junko, with her turbulent mental state and agitation, will notice.

"Why did he send you, do you think?" Rei asks, after a brief pause to reconsider his tactics. "Did he tell you at all? Can you form some kind of guess?"

[JUNKO]
The girl looks away, clearly unhappy about the direction this conversation has turned. Her body language changes from defeat and sorrow to awkward discomfort as she clutches one arm to her side with the other, shuffling her naked feet on the floor.

Junko's relationship with her uncle has always been strained. As a child, she was privy to a great deal more interactions with her father and his younger sibling that either would have liked. The two of them bickered constantly - or rather, her uncle was always at her father's throat, ready to ruin a perfectly peaceful day with complaints and criticism.

The topics of their arguments were often the same. Her father was a staunch traditionalist who believed that the clan needed to remain hidden and secluded. The world had no need to be exposed to the long forgotten truths about the supernatural dangers which lurked at the edge of reality. It was that very lack of understanding and belief which had driven the worst horrors to the brink of extinction.

Her uncle, however, had a somewhat unique role in the village. As there was always a need to keep tabs on the outside world, scouts were often employed who would venture out into modern society to gather information. Her uncle was one such scout. His experience in the world abroad had given the man a taste of the incredible amenities that technology provided and he was eager to see the clan introduced to those bounties of artifice.

Junko was too young to understand the nuances of such arguments at the time but it was clear to her that her father did not think highly of his brother. Though he would never be so crass as to speak ill of his own blood openly, years of hearing the same discussions over and over as well as learning to understand her father's moods made it clear what his feelings were. There were also constant rumors about her uncle, gossip of shady dealings with the village's less savory elements. She never found any reason to believe them more than that but the shadow his actions cast over the rest of the family never seemed to bother her uncle which was enough to make her dislike him.

In the aftermath of her massacre of the entire upper echelon of the clan, her uncle had returned to find a power vacuum. As the last living adult member of the Daidoji main family, he suffered no obstacles to finally taking control. With the clan in chaos and most of his opposition dead, it proved the perfect opportunity for the man to push forward with his agenda.

Junko's participation in the NFG was the first stone to be laid on that new road. He hadn't even bothered to hide his motivations when she was informed that she would be going abroad. She had been told in no uncertain terms that the winnings she could receive from coming out on top in the tournament would provide an excellent foundation for his future plans. As such, she was to make sure that she -did- win, no matter what that required.

The question now, she supposes, is how much of that to tell the xian. While her uncle hadn't expressly forbid her from talking about the reasons for her insertion into this venue, she's fairly certain he wouldn't be happy to be implicated as the person responsible for lighting the fuse on the disaster that she has proved to be thus far. Particularly with such materialistic motives behind the decision.

Junko chews on her lower lip nervously. She isn't the man's biggest fan but he is blood, the last that she has left. And it was his personal intervention that kept her from being run out of the village and forced to live in the wilds like some kind of dangerous animal. Like it or not, she owes him and keeping the full story concealed doesn't cost her much.

"My uncle has... some unique ideas about the direction of the clan's future. He thinks we should stop being so isolationist and start becoming a part of the modern world again. Having me participate in such a public event was part of that plan."

The miko scours her memory for anything else that might have been said, something she can twist to fit a slightly more appealing narrative.

"He also wanted me to try and learn better control. Forcing me to face strong fighters would teach me discipline, give... the demon an outlet for its temper that was productive."

[FREI]
Well, now. "Is that so?" Rei asks, conversationally, radiating nothing but genuine curiosity. On one level, he really has no reason to disbelieve Junko. After all, the xian has never met her uncle. More to the point, the social dynamics of reclusive clans -- something he IS familiar with -- can be very, very convoluted. It's a bit like stuffing a closet with things over and over again: it can keep them contained, to a point, but eventually the tiniest opening in the latch will send the contents tumbling violently onto the floor. Still, there's something...

"From my point of view, there are a couple narratives to read out of that," Rei says, crossing his arms over his chest. "Well, two big ones, anyway. There's no story that only has two sides. Common misconception. Still, here's how this sounds to me as an outside observer."

Reaching out, the redhead holds one hand out to his right, palm up, as if he were weighing something he was holding. "Story one is that your uncle believes you can succeed and wants what's best for you. He trusted that you could find a point of equilibrium that wouldn't make things worse for your clan and help yourself in the process."

A pause, and then he repeats the hand gesture, only this time, it's his left. "Story two: your uncle is a jerk who either expected you to fail, or didn't *care* if you failed, knowing what he knows about your situation."

The palm-up hands go up and down, once again providing the image of someone weighing options against each other. "I suppose there's a distant third where your uncle is such a complete idiot that he went 'what's the worst that could happen' and sent you off, but I have a hard time believing that one."

A shrug, and the xian puts his hands together behind his back, regarding Junko once again with that gaze that seems to inexplicably combine skull-boring intensity with guileless curiosity. "You're the only one that knows what the actual story is. But I'm going to be very honest with you, Junko: there are people who think you are already too much of a danger to others to exist. People who will quite happily permanently disable or even kill you, because they think that's the right thing to do in this situation."

A pause, where Rei closes his eyes a moment, then re-opens them. "But there's also a girl who risked everything to be your friend. To reach out to you, not just in spite of the risk, but maybe BECAUSE of it. The very thing you were CERTAIN could never happen. There's a lot of stories you could be writing about your life right now. My question is, which one is worth believing in?"

[JUNKO]
Junko says nothing at this attempt to interpret her words. The tiny glimpse she offers into the realm of her personal life back at home is intentionally vague. So it is of no surprise that the xian's potential scenarios fail to encompass the full picture. It's like trying to critique a piece of art when all you can see is one of the corners through a keyhole. The artist's brush strokes, their choice of paints, the way they blend the colors - glimpses of these things can offer insight into the work but without the context of the complete picture it's nothing but idle speculation.

Fortunately, the truth leans closer to Rei's first guess. While her uncle can be a bit too focused on the practical to consider everyone's feelings sometimes, she's never gotten the impression that he was just using her for his own ends.

Not that he's shown any hesitation at wielding her situation to his advantage from time to time. There were plenty of people who opposed his plans for re-integration even without the elder voices to unite them, enough of an outcry to slow things down, mire the whole discussion down in squabbling and politics. A little visit from the local demon-possessed relative of the new clan leader who happened to have a reputation for a very short and explosive temper was often used to help clear up these blockades. Her parents would have been disappointed to see authority wielded in such a way but she was too desperate to feel useful again to stand fast to principle.

No, her uncle would gain nothing from Junko's failure. If anything, it might hurt his plans significantly were she to be publicly humiliated. After all, no one's afraid of an attack dog without any teeth. His desire for her victory and the riches that would accompany it is genuine. And, if nothing else, her gaining more control over the demon would make her a more reliable ally. It's honestly a win-win for him as far as she can tell.

The topic shifts, much to her relief, to something she's more familiar with - people hating her. Or, perhaps, just being afraid of the threat she represents. Most people never took the time to get to know the person behind the fire and rage or weren't given the chance. Not that it would matter. Knowing the history behind her situation didn't make her any less dangerous.

The girl snorts at this 'revelation' with bitter amusement and rolls one shoulder in a dismissive shrug.

"And this is supposed to be a shock to me?"

She's spent the last five years with people wanting her dead. Junko would count herself foremost among them most days. But they've already covered why that isn't an option.

"They won't succeed," the miko says, her voice flat but certain. After a moment she lowers her gaze and her voice and whispers, "I can't afford to let them."

Junko's eyes squeeze shut as the xian goes for the obvious angle to pick at her dour forecast of doom and gloom. Chevy is the one factor that she still doesn't quite understand how to handle. Knowing the kindness that dwells in her friend's bosom, she must be terribly worried. The miko had simply walked away and vanished, avoiding all contact for the better part of two days now.

She would love to pretend that nothing had happened and go back to living with the faint hope that there is a place for her somewhere outside of the pit of despair that she's resided in for so long. No doubt Chevy would be happy enough to forgive her, to brush aside all the pain and trouble she had caused. But she would only be inviting more misery down on herself by continuing to associate with the ill-tempered priestess.

"I... I don't know what to believe any more."

Her hands, monstrous and grotesque, are splayed open in front of her. She stares at them, dead eyes contemplating the burnt flesh, trying to imagine what others must see when they look at what she has become.

"People look at me and they see a terrible monster in need of slaying or a frightened girl who wants to be saved. But, me...? I can't see my own reflection clearly any more. I don't know who is telling me the truth."

[FREI]
"Got bad news for you, kid," Rei says, holding up both hands in a 'what can you do?' gesture. "You ARE a monster, though we'll shelf 'in need of killing' for the moment. And you ARE a frightened girl who wants to be saved." Needing SOMETHING to do with his body instead of just standing there and pontificating, the redhead finds a nearby support beam that doesn't look like it's going to crumble into dust the second he touches it and leans on it, shoulder first.

"Look. This is going to sound rich coming from yours truly, who more or less literally dropped out of the sky to say all this stuff to you, but the secret is that there isn't any Truth, not with a capital 't'. There's just... points of view. Now, that isn't to say there aren't little-t truths, statements that can be backed by evidence versus outright lies," the xian adds, shrugging a bit. "But the other kind, not so much. And if it DOES exist, it doesn't come from outside of yourself. It comes from you."

A pause, and then Rei brings a hand up in the air, palm towards himself, fingers moving slightly. "I just can't put my finger on it, but I definitely know you're still hiding things. Which, fine. I'm not entitled to your secrets. But 'let them try, I can't afford to die'... really? Your uncle's honor is enough, there, is it?" He blinks, as if a puzzle piece he'd been rotating in his head while he talked suddenly clicked into place just now. "I mean, I guess it could be, but I'm not sure I buy that, frankly. Especially if story two back there has any weight to it."

A pause, a period of what is probably for a now very annoyed Junko a blessed silence, before Rei pushes himself off the support beam. "Welp, I've said my piece," he says with a shrug, dusting his hands off. "Feel free to rot down here if that's what you want. Maybe some alone time will help you work out what a contradictory knot you are. I don't think I've ever seen someone so thoroughly interested in self-destructing as you are, yet it's obvious you desperately want to live. Well, there's people who are interested in making either happen, and please believe me, Junko: there are people who not only WOULD kill 'a monster' sight unseen, but are perfectly capable of ending you AND me out there. I know bravado is just a thing 16-year-olds do, or however old you are, but believe me on that, because I have never once lied to you."

[JUNKO]
An exasperated sigh quietly slips from the girl's lips.

Of course, the answer she gets can't just be a simple one. That's all she's looking for, ultimately, someone to just tell her what to do, what to think. It's become clear that she can't trust her own mind to come up with satisfying solutions to her problems. Whether she's just too stupid to see the obvious or too confused by the tangled web of lies and deceit that has been woven into a net around her by the demon, the end result is the same. Her choices always lead to more suffering, if not for someone else then for herself.

The insinuation that she has more secrets yet unrevealed is met with silence and a pointed look away. Junko doesn't bother trying to lie to the xian. What would be the point? There's no need to convince him otherwise. Both of them know she's an utter mess already, what's one more skeleton in the closet at this point. Besides, she's a terrible liar.

In the silence that follows the miko offers nothing to indicate that she's taken the advice offered to heart. All he gets is a petulant glower directed at the floor, her body angled in such a way as to indicate that she wants to get away from him but feels obligated to listen. Like all teenagers, puberty seems to have imbued her with instinctive knowledge on how to make it very clear with body language alone just how much she doesn't care. She might have to listen to him speak but that doesn't mean those words haven't gone right through one ear and out the other.

The dismissive tone of his final words do nothing to diminish her surly attitude. Her scowl deepens slightly, brows furrowing in annoyance as her temper starts to fray again. Her burnt fingers curl into loose fists at her side and she lifts her face to regard Rei and stamps one foot with a sudden surge of belligerence.

"Good! At least then I won't have to listen to any more of your stupid lectures!"

That teenage indignation only bolsters her courage for a few moments, however, and Junko quickly turns her back on the xian. Crossing her arms over her chest with an audible huff, she tilts her head to peer back at him over her shoulder.

"If that's all you have to say, leave. I'm not interested in your philosophical nonsense any more."

[FREI]
She certainly has a way of expressing herself, doesn't she? But if the red-haired sage is bothered, it doesn't show on his face. He lets Junko get out whatever venom or anger she needs to express; after all, listening is free, really. "As you like," he adds, once she expresses some annoyance at his 'philosophical lectures', a tendency Rei himself acknowledges as being one of his more potentially irritating traits.

"Answer me one thing before I leave. When the fight started, you apologized in advance to Coco for what was to come. And then the second the fire started getting thrown around, you downshifted right into trash talk. In the blink of an eye, I might add."

He definitely watched the fight footage. How could he not? You have to go into this situation armed with knowledge.

"Whose decision was that?" Again, he drops the question into the conversation like carelessly throwing a rock into a pond.

[JUNKO]
The question is a surprising one that catches her off guard.

Junko has more or less closed herself off at this point, eager to be done with this conversation and left alone to brood. It doesn't accomplish anything but wallowing in misery is something she's grown quite used to. That sense of familiarity is strangely appealing if only because she knows exactly what to expect. No one to hurt down here with her fiery temper but herself. No choices to make, no anxiety over how she should act or what she should say to avoid causing an incident. She can just storm and rage all she wants and the worst that might happen is the building falls down on top of her. If she's lucky, maybe it'll bury Suzaku too.

The miko stares with open eyes in momentary surprise, clearly struggling to shift her mental gears. When she finally gets the fuses reconnected, she turns her face away from the xian. It's actually a pretty simple question to answer though she is hesitant to do so. No doubt there's more judgement waiting for her at the station when that train of thought reaches its destination. Despite her dismissive attitude, Junko is a sensitive girl who cares a great deal about how others perceive her. It's one of the main reasons this entire ordeal has been so hard to endure. If she was able to be even a fraction as callous as she pretended to be then maybe a life of isolation wouldn't be so bad.

"It was mine, okay?!"

She hunches her shoulders as if bracing herself for the inevitable rebuke of her character that's sure to follow from the admission. A compulsion arises from that sense of anxious expectancy, a need to defend herself against the perceived criticism.

"It... it isn't easy for me, you know?! I don't enjoy being like this! It's not something that comes naturally. All of that hate, that... -evil-."

Her hands lower down to her waist, wrapping protectively around her stomach.

"It makes me sick! Hearing those words come out of my mouth. The things -he- makes me say when I try to resist..."

[FREI]
One dark red eyebrow goes up at the very end of that. Rei was, genuinely, not expecting the answer he gets... or at least, not the *entirety* of the answer he gets. Part of it does match up with what he anticipated hearing, and with unexpected doggedness, he latches on to that very thing, as much in a hope of unraveling the tangled skein that is Junko as to simply understand *what the hell is going on* in this situation.

"*Makes* you?" The question comes as sharp as a thrown knife, swift and pointed. The pronoun -- the first time he's heard Junko refer to her little spiritual passenger as anything more specific than 'it', that he can recall -- goes unremarked on, as the xian presses this particular point. "You tapped into this power to fight, and he MADE you call Ms. Coalbridge a loser to her face? You were forced?"

A pause, a closing of the eyes, a shaking of the head. "I am going to say this again: I don't give a damn about blame. But I want to understand. He 'made' you do this? How? Why?"

[JUNKO]
A rising sense of panic starts to build in Junko's chest as she realizes her mistake. The xian had been ready to leave, clearly having given up on trying to get through to her this day. That last question had been an idle curiosity, something he noticed but didn't consider particularly important. That or he was saving it for just this moment when her guard was down and her frustration overwhelmed her caution.

The girl flinches visibly at the harshness of Rei's response as if that verbal dagger had slammed square in between her shoulder blades. Her fingers twitch as she hunches over, hugging her arms tightly against her chest. Already she can sense where this is going and it makes her want to lie down on the floor and bury herself in the ashes.

But that sort of escape would never work here. She had run away to this forgotten corner of the city to avoid being pestered and Rei had still tracked her down. Cornered and under the microscope, she has nowhere to run or hide. It's time for one of those little 't' truths to come out.

"You have no idea, do you?"

Junko laughs bitterly, shaking her head.

"No idea... what it's like. A kami doesn't ask. It doesn't demand. It doesn't want. It simply -exists-."

The miko turns around to face her inquisitor and looks him in the face. There is an emptiness in her eyes that has nothing to do with being blind, a resignation of the inevitable coming to pass. But also a spark of anger, a defiance that kindles the latent power lurking within into a slowly swirling crimson glow.

Holding her hand up, Junko calls forth the scarlet fire of the demon and condenses it into a small orb that floats above her palm. Unlike any natural flame, the sphere glimmers in brilliant neon red as bands of dark corruption writhe like angry serpents across its surface.

"It's like... having a piece of eternity buried inside of you. A hot coal pressed against the back of my mind that is always burning, always hurting."

She looks down at the flame in her palm and turns her hand sideways, pressing the ball of neon power into the unburnt skin of her chest. The girl's jaw clenches as her pale ash-covered skin starts to sizzle and sear, a patch of dark black spreading outwards from the contact point until the entire area around her sternum is scorched to ruin. She gasps with obvious pain, sucking in a sharp breath as she endures the horrific self-mutilation.

"I tried to fight it," she says, panting heavily. "T-tried to resist its influence. But... nothing worked. No matter how much I begged or pleaded or cried, it just -kept- hurting!"

Holding up her hand, she again calls forth a tiny fireball. This time her fingers close around the blazing orb, squeezing slowly shut until its light is extinguished in the charred remains of her flesh. Her face turns up to Rei again, a look of something almost like mania on her face as she holds up her ruined fingers for him to look at.

"You see," she asks, fresh tears streaming down her face, the girl's voice quivering with barely restrained emotion. "You see?! It can't destroy what's already burnt! A-all I have to do is be more like him and... and it doesn't hurt so much!"

[FREI]
If Rei's face seems weirdly impassive as Junko's... honestly horrific answer behind his question that Junko gives. Apply pain until the subject is compliant. Make them afraid to be non-compliant out of fear of said pain. Make them believe that you're the only option available to them; leave them isolated, alone.

We certainly know what the word is for people who treat others like THAT, don't we?

He'd told Ichika that there was no real excuse for Junko's behavior (true), but also to remember that she's a victim herself (also true). But the problem is...

"The problem," Rei mutters, barely but certainly audible, "is that an impossible choice is still a *choice*."

Straightening, he looks at Junko and shakes his head. "I take back something I said before," the xian says, with careful slowness. "If *he* knows even a fraction of what you just said to me, your uncle IS an idiot. Sending you into the world in this state was a mistake." A pause, a shake of the head, heavy with resignation. "Someday, when either you can tolerate that pain enough to fight back, or you've been separated somehow from what all this is..." he adds, with a vague handwave, "...maybe then, somehow. Otherwise, this is going to keep happening. You know it, I know it. Your uncle does too, and frankly, Junko, I'd think long and hard on the implications of that while you decide what you want to do."

Frankly, at this point, Rei is about ready to trudge into the mountains himself and give this guy a piece of his mind, but... that wouldn't help anybody.

It would probably feel really good for about an hour or two, though.

One final pause, and then the xian shakes his head. "Well... good luck, then. I'm not entirely sure I believe in gods," he adds, considering the young woman used the word 'kami' very deliberately, "or at least not in the way you seem to. But if you ever decide you want to try and change your relationship to whatever that thing inside you is, happy to help."

And then, unless stopped, he... really does turn to leave entirely.

[JUNKO]
Finally, he's starting to understand the box that she is trapped in. The damage that has been done to the girl's mind and soul.

When the xian had first taken it upon himself to delve deeper into the underlying issues behind Junko's unsavory behavior she had tried to impress upon him the overwhelming amounts of fear that was keeping her from reaching out to others for help. She had masked that worry behind an altruistic desire to keep everyone else safe from her uncontrollable temper, adopting an almost martyr-like mentality in her efforts to justify keeping isolated from other people.

The truth, however, proves to be something far more sinister.

It was all just a justification to shelter her from having to face her fear. The fear of the pain that she's endured on a daily basis for five long years. The fear of being tormented with the knowledge that her body has been used to commit acts of evil. The fear of allowing someone to get close enough to see how weak she is. But most of all, she's afraid to admit that Suzaku never actually had control, and all those horrible things she blames on the demon are actually her fault.

How long did she manage to endure before giving up? The girl can't even recall any more. Days? Weeks? She had grown up a sheltered and pampered child, a princess in all but name among her people. This kind of torment wasn't something she had ever prepared for. She was barely more than double digits in age when her naive selfishness had thrust her into this horrid pact and destroyed every single source of emotional support that might have been there to keep her sane. No child could hope to withstand such a devastating and violent shift in their paradigm without cracking.

"N-no..."

Junko shakes her head, eyes wide at the whispered words. The denial in her shaky voice is obvious, a shield being raised to deflect an unwanted truth.

"No, you don't understand! I didn't have a choice! I had to make it stop, don't you get it?! I NEEDED IT TO STOP!"

The miko's hands dig into her hair, skeletal fingers clutching at either side of her head. She stares straight ahead, crimson eyes glassy and unfocused as if seeing something that is visible only to her.

"Had to do it... had to! It was the only way. Don't want to, don't -want- to, but there's no other...! O-only goes away when I do what he wants...!"

Starting to walk backwards, Junko slowly shuffles away until her back hits the wall. Almost as if her moves are more instinct than conscious choice, the girl slides heavily down the flat surface until her butt hits the ash-laden floor. Her knees are pulled up tight against her chest and she buries her face into them, hands folding over the top of her head protectively.

"Go away," she whispers, sobbing softly into her dirty pants. "Just... leave me alone!"

Log created on 22:33:16 11/14/2023 by Frei, and last modified on 20:29:35 11/18/2023.