Description: After Alma's disastrous fight with Dante, Mizuki brings him to her family home to begin the process of healing... (Note: This was to have taken place after the SNF on 5/12/2007)
Time: 10AM, Sunday morning
Place: Kamigawa compound, somewhere in Japan
Alma didn't get to see the compound, on his way in. Then again... he was pretty much as close to dead as he'd probably ever want to be. So he doesn't get to see the beautiful grounds, the traditionally built Japanese buildings with the roofs of slate, the clan members working in traditional ways... the complex -is- large, large enough to be mostly self-sufficient, with rice fields, vegetable gardens, even enough area for the raising of livestock... of course, Mizuki is used to these things but, they're always impressive.
It was a rough ride in--not that Mizuki is hard up for money, but she had to carry a half-dead, half-naked Alma around, and soaked, at that... it is only her resolve that allowed her to get this far. And her ability to heal... fed slowly into Alma. It won't have done much to actually heal him, but that will have to wait.
That was Friday night; after she brought him home and, needing a place to put him, put him in her own futon, she stayed up all night doing what she could to heal his wounds. But even powers of her caliber need time... and she'd foolishly signed up for SNF, which meant she had to leave on Saturday... but here she is again. She looks tired, very tired, and the SNF events didn't leave her with much peace... it has been a very hellish weekend. Having had a small meal, she's back at it--kneeling by the futon, the bedclothes folded down to Alma's waist, her hands hovering over that broken arm as she infuses it with her blue-green healing chi...
Alex heads to the Pacific Ocean.
He didn't expect to find himself here.
Weightless in the void he is suspended; insubstantial he looks out across the vast nothingness. Here he is free of the physical shackles that bind him. Here he is free of desire, of need, of compulsion, of responsibility. Here; the place of beginnings and of endings, of threads unraveled just to that indeterminable point where a thing becomes a not-thing. The fate of the self. The end of the world. The emptiness of the heart.
He's been here before.
This the place where real choices can be made...
This time is different. Before, it had been a death of the heart. Before, he had the power to decide; to decide whether he would build up again a life that had been destroyed, or accept his inevitable fate now and waste no more time. It was here, where no human rules applied, that he could decide to choose life for its own sake, gazing into the face of death.
It was here that Alma Towazu became the man he is today.
This time, his heart is intact. It's comforting to know that, as he gazes without fear into the void. He hasn't forgotten. He hasn't forgotten what he learned here, that this would be his fate in the end, that this is the fate of all things, and that if he could choose life all the same -- /because/ of all this, in some paradoxical way perhaps only one who has been here could understand -- his heart and faith could never be overcome. It wasn't overcome. He was himself to the end, the self that he chose, the self that suited him just fine.
Yes... to the end.
"I guess I'm finished."
It's not quite sound, just like what he sees isn't quite sight.
"I... still had more to give... but..."
It takes a psychic, perhaps, to visualize this place the way he does.
"It's all right."
Alma Towazu smiles the smile of fallen heroes.
"I hope everyone will be okay--"
A strange new sensation pulls at him. Is this death, real death? No, it's pulling him upward; 'upward', in a world without direction. Light. Light, in the ultimate darkness. What is this? A figure. Who...?
A woman...
~ Oh... it's too good to be true... ~
The beautiful youth's eyes open a crack, and just for a moment he smiles, a smile that few see, a smile that few grown-ups smile. Even Alma, with his heartfelt ways, doesn't smile like this.
~ ...I get to see you again...? ~
It is the glorious little smile of a child at peace.
"...m...other...?"
Mother. Someday, Mizuki will be called that; after all, just like the men of the family, the women are also called upon to extend the family line. However... she certainly isn't _Alma's_ mother. Even if she -is- mothering him... in a way.
"No, Alma-san... I'm not your mother." Mizuki slumps a little--she's been exercising her chi quite a bit and that is tiring.
"How do you feel?" she asks, quietly; the arm should be okay... the body should be okay. She's done enough healing to ensure that, even if he'll be a little weak for a while; she doesn't know how good his natural regeneration is.
"You ah... that man, Dante, he--" She falters. She can't help it. Mizuki never thought she'd see someone thrown off the side of a train... or that she'd go drag him out of the sea and keep him alive. It's just too crazy for her.
"You're at my home, Alma-san... I'm sorry. I didn't know where else to go... you were--your arm--... I had to do -something-. I'm sorry I--I should've run, but--but I couldn't..."
Oh.
He's alive.
Alma blinks once, and -- he doesn't even realize, but -- for a moment, incapacitated though he is, he looks profoundly hurt. 'Disappointed' is hardly a strong enough word... is there even a word that would capture the essence of such bereavement?
But he's alive.
That expression fades after a moment, the young man's usual mild calm seeming to reassert itself as his gaze is drawn toward the ceiling. Deep fatigue mingles with a quiet thoughtfulness on his features as he tries to slowly piece together a continuous chain of events, and waits for the light to stop blinding him.
After a few seconds of this silence, he looks back toward his savior, and blinks again.
"M...Mizuki..."
He sounds surprised. Weakly, not quite able to move his head, he surveys the clearly exhausted girl like one who has forgotten what a person looks like. He's clearly totally disoriented-- but that doesn't stop him from smiling again, this time with in his usual style, albeit tempered by his weakness: calm, beautific sincerity.
"Thank goodness... you're alright."
He listens to her for a moment, smile fading as he begins to remember what happened-- and begins to see how much effort she's been expending, in the face of such horror and insanity. Oh yes, Dante. The monorail. She was there, wasn't she. So she didn't run away.
So she saw...
~ The poor girl. She doesn't deserve this at all. She... ~
Alma flexes the fingers of his left, non-broken arm underneath the bedcovers for a moment before, concluding that it still works, draws his hand out and places it gently over one of hers'. It's just the wisp of a touch, that's all he can manage, but...
"Mizuki," he murmurs, the breath of a voice, "you s...saved my life."
~ ...she... a girl like this... should be living a normal life. ~
He looks into her eyes, as though hoping to extend his serene stillness, his calm peacefulness, into her, and convince her without words that everything is now alright.
"Thank you."
Mizuki brightens at thanks. Not enough to make her look like she's all better, but it's a good change. But her face quickly stills then changes into a worried state again. "I should be saying the same about you...! I thought you were going to die..." A normal life? Mizuki? Not in the cards. If Alma knew about her clan, about their history, he'd know why. But Mizuki's life has never been normal by society's standards.
"Your arm... it was broken, so I--I concentrated on that, as much as I could." She looks down. "I had to go back on Saturday, because of Saturday Night Fights... but I came back as soon as I could." Alma, despite not knowing her that well, can probably guess that the Fight wasn't all that fun, for various reasons... it's pretty clear in her voice.
"Your clothing was ruined. Ah... there isn't much here that's in your size." She points off to her left, where a folded-up yukata awaits. "That will have to do until you can go back to Southtown."
"... I had one of my uncles undress you and bring you in here. You were suffering from hypothermia and your injuries, so... I did as much as I could for you. Oh!"
Mizuki blinks, "Are you hungry? We have some food ready if you are..."
Hypothermia...
"The water..."
Alma closes his eyes for a moment as though contemplating or concentrating-- and then, perhaps frighteningly, he puts his left palm on the floor and pushes himself up a bit, slowly and laboriously levering himself into a sitting position before Mizuki's eyes. From the great care he's taking it looks extremely difficult and possibly flat-out inadvisable, but-- she's not the only one with an iron resolve. He doesn't reveal any pain on his features; though, then again, he does keep his eyes closed under he's fully in a sitting position. The blankets fall down around his lap, and the weary young model turns and offers the younger girl a brave little smile.
The smile fades as he thinks for a moment, then:
"The water. I fell into water, didn't I...? How...?"
He's interrupted by a spurt of coughing; he reaches up with his left fist to cover his mouth. He can't help but wince at how it makes his body tighten up, but he apparently refuses to lie down again.
Hopefully he can be forgiven for not answering her questions, being still half-delirious.
It should be noted that Mizuki, too, is in a yukata--blue cotton with thin white stripes, and a black belt wrapped around her waist. No shoes, but she has the traditional white socks on. Apparently it's standard home wear for her; she seems utterly at ease in it.
"Yes, you--you fell a long way. I wasn't sure I would find you--ah!" The coughing makes her frown, and instinctively she leans forward, her hands facing palm-out, a glow of chi forming around them.
"You should relax... I can't heal everything..." Unless Alma protests, Mizuki will do what she can for his coughing, and then she'll sit back on her heels--sitting in the traditional Japanese 'seiza' position, feet tucked under her butt.
"You've been out for quite a while... I'm sorry, I think you would have been healed sooner if I hadn't had to go back."
Ah... such soothing light.
Alma slumps slightly in relief as Mizuki continues to minister to his wounds; the internal, less superficial damage he must have suffered has not yet been reversed, but the girl's powers and his own formidible capacity to recover should make short work of most of the damage, even if the singular viciousness of Dante's assault may make the healing of his right arm a particular challenge.
He was going to protest, just because she's already done so much, but... this is nice.
He finds himself leaning slightly toward her as she leans in herself to feed some more of her energy into his chest, and in his dazed and distracted state finds random thoughts bubbling to the surface of his brewing conscious mind.
~ Her hair... smells really nice. ~
This could really be much worse, all things considered.
"You, of all people," he manages as she pulls away, straightening himself with his newfound strength, "shouldn't be... apologizing to me, Mizuki."
It doesn't seem like she wants to talk much about finding him. That's fine. If she has anything she needs to say -- which surely she will, given how traumatic the experience must have been -- she'll do so on her own time. By Alma's estimation, what she really needs right now is a break.
"I'm... feeling much better," he manages, a white lie. "You should rest too..."
Wasn't she asking him about something before? What was it...
As the covers have fallen down around his lap and Mizuki's uncle has kindly undressed him, the sudden growling of Alma's stomach is particularly audible.
Oh yes.
"Ah..." The youth has the good grace to flush slightly. "Food... would be lovely... thank you." And again, he smiles.
In Mizuki's opinion, she hasn't done enough. She should have stepped in beforehand. That she didn't is actually to her shame and chagrin. Something she'll never really forgive herself for.
"But I should," she says, softly. "Because--I let this happen in front of me and I didn't even raise a hand..." Mizuki turns, picking up a tray with a traditional Japanese meal on it--miso soup, rice, pickles, some sashimi, a cooked fish dish as well. Very traditional, on a traditional tray, which is set in front of Alma.
"Here, eat this," she says, shuffling backwards a little bit to allow him room to eat. "I--" She frowns, again. "I want to ask you something... about... Drake Vyril. Do you--did you--know him from before...?"
W, wow.
Alma cooks all his own meals, generally, but except in the special case of baking he has a rather prosaic approach. As long as he eats all the major food groups and they aren't all, you know, served simultaneously in one dish, he gets by just fine. So something like this, well.
He could get /used/ to this.
But maybe not to Mizuki's choice of topics. With a hearty mental 'Itedakimasu!' the tall blond settles down to eat and continue to restore his strength, but the girl's question almost makes him fumble his chopsticks. Who? What? Oh. Drake. Drake?
"From... before?" He blinks and looks up, a piece of cooked fish poised halfway to his mouth. "Oh. Ah, no, I hardly know him. He seems interesting, though. More depth than his fans probably realize..." He smiles softly down at his food before looking back to the girl. "I thought he could have a lot of potential if he only sat down and... tried to get his priorities straight. He's too used to thinking in terms of image. I think that's why... he has some trouble with me..."
Alma, you're too tired, man, she didn't ask for your biography. This isn't a fight, you don't have to share your passion, just answer the question.
"Why are you asking about him, of all people?"
He pauses for a moment before managing a little grin.
"Hey, you aren't going to switch allegiances, are you? I'm... much cooler."
Such an expression of levity is a little unusual for him, but. So is all of this!
Well, Mizuki didn't make the food. The cook did. Mizuki cooks much less formally... as befits a young girl. But she -can- cook... anyway. Mizuki's expression sours. Clearly Drake isn't a subject she -likes- to talk about... but probably something she feels like she -has- to talk about. "He... I fought him, in my Saturday Night Fight... and... and I said something about you and him and he--" She shakes her head. Drake's reaction was almost as disturbing as seeing Dante.
"He really hates you and--and I was just wondering why..." Mizuki stares out an open window, thinking about her words.
"It was a disaster, that fight... and then I went to talk to him afterwards... and..." A frown.
"I... don't think he and I will ever be friends. He... doesn't like me because... I'm friends with you."
"..."
Alma looks into space for a few moments.
A lesser man would be out of patience at this point; despite how wonderfully kind she and everyone is being, kind beyond any possible expectation, one in his position cannot help but be under serious strain, and sick individuals are notoriously short-tempered. But not Alma. Despite all that's happened, despite that for all he knows the man who almost killed him is still on the loose, despite that he hasn't been able to warn his friend yet, doesn't even know what day it is-- for all he knows Jiro is dead already--
No... he'd know if that were true.
--but really, you'd think the last person he'd want to think about is someone as inconsequential as Drake Vyril. Come now, Mizuki, you're woman enough to save a man from drowning and drag him from the brink of death, surely being disliked by a man you barely know can't faze you. ...But that's not at all how it works, does it?
Alma understands that.
This is important.
"...I'm sorry he inflicted that on you, Mizuki."
The beautiful youth looks back to her, serious and dignified.
"He's supposed to be a professional. But--" He regards her. "--I'm surprised you're already involving yourself in such forms of tournament fighting." Another short pause. "I'm sure you know what you want better than I would ever know, but... don't feel like that's the only way to prove yourself as a fighter. Those are... the kind of personalities you'll sometimes meet."
~ Does overcoming me... really mean that much to him? ~
"I... I'm a little tired."
~ What foolishness... ~
He lowers himself quitely to his pillow, wearily pulling his covers up around him, tilting his head to gaze up at the girl.
"You should get some rest too... and... please, thank your family for me... for all this."
Breaking eye contact, he gazes up at the ceiling again, as he did when he first awoke.
~ Jiro.... ~
And heaves a sigh, uncharacteristially.
~ ...I'm so sorry... I couldn't be of more use. ~
But he won't share his thoughts with Mizuki. He can't possibly burden her with any more.
She deserves better.
Log created on 20:23:50 05/23/2007 by Mizuki, and last modified on 09:48:02 06/07/2007.