Description: Hotaru Futaba finds herself at the mercy of the Devil of Koga. Captured in an earlier battle, the girl faces the creature who has stalked her since they first met. The truth of this obsession is revealed, and it shakes the girl to her core. Hotaru will never be the same again..
Inhale, exhale, she has little say in the matter. The necessities of biology require it. It doesn't take long at all for the breaths to become more regular, the body in the chair relaxing, staying in place only by the force of the constraints that keep her from really moving much even when the only force acting upon her is that of gravity.
Time is impossible to measure when being put through the things Hotaru is going through. Hours, minutes, days maybe? She doesn't really know and really, it doesn't matter too much. She wakes up feeling a little thirsty again. Looks like Elle was right - turning on the water works will dry a kid out.
Unlike the last time she came to, this time there is no surprise or panic. She already knows how she got here. What's happened. And worse, what is going to happen. Afraid to look up, her head remains bowed, her eyes focusing on her lap. She feels a couple cramps setting on for having been left like this for so long, but details like that aren't really at the forefront of her mind. Other than the flicker of her eyes opening, the only indication that anything has changed is the long, surrendering exhale of resignation.
Downcast eyes rarely see the dangers ahead of them. How long has it been since golden inhuman eyes simply opened within the darkness? No fanfare, no ominous breathing or unsheathing blades. Dimly luminous, the gaze bares down upon the girl with predatory intensity. The dank, moldy air gains an additional chill. Perhaps the only other cue the girl has that she is no longer alone.
The dread creature has woken.
Perhaps, the Devil has always been there? Lurking there just outside where the little girl's eyes could see. Perhaps she has been observing her for hours, just watching.. savoring the sweet scent of youth and fear permeating the fetid, cold chamber.
No stirring, no movement. Only a single, soft breath. Little more than an sultry moan.. Giving the girl warning that the end has arrived.
"I know you're here," Hotaru speaks into the room finally. She can feel it. The chill in her skin, the feeling of being watched, stared at by something unearthly. Oh yes, she's well aware she has special company now. It seems that she has no intent of looking up into the eyes of the woman she is certain intends to kill her, but after seconds pass, she finally does. Her blue irises lock on Marise's face, studying it, comparing it, thinking about the differences between her and Elle... two completely different kinds of monsters, yet both equally appalling. There's a level of acceptance in her face of what she believes to come. If she felt like she had no prayer getting through to Elle, then by comparison, pleading with Marise would just be pathetic.
"I guess you win in the end," she finally states, tearing her gaze from Marise's to look back at the floor sullenly. She makes a hopeless attempt to shift around a little. The hours of being tied up so tightly are taking their toll, she feels pretty much miserable in every way possible. A headache, her body aches, she knows she's about to die. The whole delux package of unhappiness.
Those baleful eyes widen just a fraction as the girl's blue gaze rises to meet her. Slitted pupils narrowing as a second murmur escapes the hidden creature.
Much like the cheshire cat, the rest of her remains unseen. The blackness holds no mysteries for her, and serves her purposes well. A testament to the silence at this ghost's command; Her eyes close once, completely erasing her from existance. When they open again.. They're frighteningly near. Perhaps a single arm's length away. Where a normal human may radiate a certain warmth with such proximity... the air only grows colder, more still.
Is there triumph in those eyes? A mocking gleam at the prey that finally made the one misstep that proved her undoing? Perhaps to a degree, but that look is not nearly so playful as it has been in the past. Almost.. curious?
As the girl lowers her vision, a cool hand is felt clamping at her jaw. Holding her just above her throat to return that azurian gaze to the ghost's own. The maiden's thumb slowly draws along Futaba's living cheek, in the manner of appraising the texture of a fresh peach.
"Of course." Comes the reply, the woman's breath felt over the girl's chin. An aroma borne on her wind unlike anything easily described.. A sweet scent of death, permeated with a dozen other discordant ones. Most disconcertingly of all.. Hotaru can smell Jiro's own breath, mingled into this creature that can't possibly be human.
"A pity you only realize that now.. child." Those golden eyes shift to the side, hooding like dim lanterns and drawing to the side of her face, just at the periphery of her vision as she can feel that cool breath teasing so close to her ear, "..But it is not too late.."
As her face is lifted back into the gaze of the ghostly woman's eyes, Hotaru tries to fight her hold at first, pulling ineffectively to the side. But she lacks both the position and condition to be able to free herself from Marise's grip. Her race of breathing increases, the onset of fear as the very breath of her enemy brushes over her face.
So many different smells, each one a piece of a life sampled. It's obvious when she detects traces of Jiro's own breath, her eyes widening slightly at the memory of how it was taken in the flower garden, an event that feels like a lifetime ago by now. This brings up other memorys, personal and powerful, of the tender moments she had with the boy that is so far away now, oblivious to what she is going through now. She had promised him that she would still be here. Once before she came precariously close to breaking that oath as she was nearly severed in half by the living Titan, the Martyr of Might, but fate and no small amount of resolve spared her that death.
It seems that nothing is going to save her now though. No chance evasion, no small crack in her enemy's defenses that she can use to turn the fight around. Here there is only one certainty: there is nothing she can do to keep Marise from what she wants. The vow taken in the church bellfry weeks ago will be impossible to uphold now, Hotaru ponders, her thoughts racing as she reflects on the life she's lived.
As Marise draws closer, she's certain it is to end this. To take it all - her life, her essence, her heart, just like she said she wanted back in the garden. But then come the words that shatter her train of thoughts. She cannot turn her face, but her eyes glance to the side, "H-how is that possible?" she asks. How can it not be too late? It's a hard thing to have hope at a time like this, when the wraith has her fingers at her neck and cheek. Yet even so, there is the trace of it in her voice. What would stay the devil's hand at this final hour?
The ghost slowly draws a finger along the girl's neck, the tip of her long nail scraping faintly. Not enough to draw a line of crimson, but sharp enough to feel. Tracing an unseen line, pulsing within the girl's flesh with as vital a function as the blood that pumps within her.
Hope is a tenuous thing. For in the same moment that it exists, it can extinguish just as fast. In a pique of hunger that even the Devil cannot help, the girl can feel a sudden spike of pain. The vampiric creature presses her lips just faintly to the girl's earlobe, piercing the tender spot with the tip of her pronounced fang. Just enough to sample the smallest taste of that potent life.
The merest nip, at the ghost draws back just a fraction. Those faintly glowing eyes rolling upwards in supreme satisfaction as she exhales luxuriously.
"...I have watched you.." Her voice slow, caressing every word with every movement of her lips, "..Since our first meeting.." A sharp fingertip continues its journey to the girl's shoulder, following along the quickening pulsations of her inner life force. Her fingertip can no longer be felt through the bindings and clothing, but the inspection is felt all the same, ".. We have clashed many times you and I. And every time.." The woman's hand pauses then, pressing flatly over Hotaru's pounding heart, "..This has grown stronger. I can see it in you child.."
Again the hidden woman's face draws near, staring through the girl's eyes to the soul hidden within them, "Others have only just begun to realize.. Only begun to suspect. You are not the same as you were before.. You are beginning to change.."
The tip of a tongue draws along the edge of her ear, collecting the sanguine droplet as it forms, "..Into something wonderful.."
Her pulse quickens at the touch on her throat, her heart beating harder in anticipation of a killing slash, a suffocating kiss, or any other means by which the fiend may wish to extinguish her life.
Hotaru cries out as her ear is bitten. The pain isn't unbearable, but rather the shock, the revulsion of the woman's lips at her skin. It makes her sick; the pleasure her capturer takes on sampling another's life. But after the gasp of surprise, she closes her mouth, breathing through her nose, each breath quickened by the fear that tightens around her throat and squeezes at her heart.
But abhorrence turns to uncertainty as the woman whispers secrets that no one should know. Hotaru's eyes keep meeting Marise's for a moment, then looking away, only to stray back eventually. She isn't the same, no. Of that she is confident. The training she has undergone, the encounters she has braved and survived, the forces she has faced and fears conquored. It was just the other night that Ryo had asked her about the things she had learned, and the list wasn't a small one.
But in spite all those changes she can think of in an instant, she doesn't feel that's what this vampire of life is getting at. Growing into the person she wants to be would not coincide with something this creature would describe as wonderful. That is just not possible in her mind.
When she speaks, the words come haltingly - fear is a powerful silencer. "W-what interest do you have in how I- have changed?" It can't possibly make a difference to her. "Why are you telling me this?" The second question comes out more forcefully now that she's gotten her voice back.
"Had I wished you dead... You would be dead."
Hardly words of comfort, but clearly not a lie. The Devil's statement is a simple warning to the girl as well as an advisory. At this moment.. Hotaru's life is not forfeit. Should she utter words that jeopardize that condition, the ghost does not hesitate to carry out her will. Be that as it may, the girl may draw what little warmth she can from the realization that death is not in her immediate future.
Not to say, worse fates are not in store.
The faint rustle of cloth is the only ambient sound meeting the girl's ears. Gold eyes shifting just so, indicating the woman is kneeling down beside her chair. Long, cool fingers slide into the girl's locks. Playing with the tips of her ponytail with idle fascination.
"You were another heart to me.. at first. A day before earlier this evening.. I would simply take what I wanted from you and discarded your husk in the harbor." Fingertips fiddling with the bindings of the girl's hair, carefully unraveling those ponytails to allow her blue tresses to unravel about her neck, "Unusually strong.. but what I found in you was more remarkable than mere strength.." Fingers continuing to groom her, in the manner a girl would play with her doll. Chill breath nearing her injured ear yet again as she whispers now, so softly. Every word slithering into her mind and squirming under her skin.
"..When you struck me down in the flower garden.. weeks ago.. is when I first saw it. Your power had begun to change.." The girl can almost feel that grin so close to her. The hand over her heart tightening to punctuate this truth, ".. You began to hate.."
A long arm descends, coiling itself over the girl's shoulder, tying her even more inextricably within the Devil's embrace, "You have began to grow stronger than you ever have before... To be honest.. To tell you a little secret.."
Lips all but brushing the girl's ear, conspiring with her to let her know a little something she unquestionably would never want to know, "..You remind me of myself.. when I was your age."
Being locked in this chamber with a woman that is more creature than human, Hotaru almost wishes Marise would end it already. Make a killing strike. Take her heart. Slit her throat with one of those fingernails that she's quite certain would be capable of doing so. It's better than listening to the woman's movements around the room, unable to know what she is doing other than through the sense of touch or by watching those luminescent irises float in the blackness about her.
But worse than the mystery is the answers that come next. As she plays with her hair, Hotaru literally shivers, recoiling from the touch at first, but unable to move more than an inch anyway. And then come the words that remind her of that moment when she had her hands wrapped around Marise's neck. As she would later tell Jiro... she was trying to kill her in that moment; to snuff out something so evil, so vile, so horrifying that it could not possibly be wrong to kill it.
She had reflected on that moment in time more than once in the following days, but had since put it out of her mind. Jiro had said that maybe everyone could be driven to hate strong enough to kill, and that maybe it wasn't so wrong in this case. But Hotaru couldn't accept that answer. That wasn't who she was. And then comes the whisper that chills her to the bone, the girl gasping audibly, her body stiffening, riddled with tension imbued with disgust. "...no..." she murmurs, her eyes staring into blackness now, "...no, it's impossible..." How could it be? What kind of trickery is this? "You are nothing like me. It can't be. Why would you tell me this?"
The problem is, as vehemently as she tries to deny it, the way the message was delivered tells her that this is beyond a simple mind game. There is truth in those words. At least as far as Marise is concerned, it was a statement of fact, not deception. Hotaru's eyes glare into the darkness, as if demanding answers from the pitch black. But the creeping realization settles in slowly... knowing that the devil was not whispering a lie is the most frightening thing to ever happen to her.
"Nnn.." Why, she asks? The Devil does not respond immediately. Feeling the shuddering tension rifling through the girl, the wicked maiden simply lifts her hand from Futaba's shoulder. Again sliding her fingers through her tresses, this time brushing a few of her bangs forwards, over her brow.
After a silent moment, the girl's captor responds in a low tone, "My family was murdered.. My kind hunted to extinction long before you were born. I am the last." Before the youth can mistake such a statement as a ploy for pity, The Devil actually giggles. Tittering under-breath as she adds, "Of course we deserved it.. But it was annoying how we were caught in the end. But regardless.."
The Devil can be felt sliding somewhat in front of the girl, her elbow resting upon her lap as those half-hooded golden orbs stare straight to her. Seemingly floating disembodied within the black void of the bleak chamber. "Gifted.. they called me. Skill like mine only appears once a generation.. it was said. But I was underestimated because I would not kill.. I would not even harm flies. No killing intent.. they thought. Perhaps I would make a good wife someday and bare many strong children.. hn? Clearly talented.. but I lacked the 'aggression' to be a true warrior.."
Eyes narrow to slits, looming a bit closer as her tone darkens, "I was seven years old when I was tested. Put into a room.. not unlike this basement really.. with ten other children my age.. given a single kunai each and told that only three of us could leave." A single chuckle, an amusing story in hindsight to her now as those eyes near.
"They came for me first.. thinking I was so harmless.. so hopeless.. that I would be easy prey." Cool fingers touch the girl's injured ear, "That is when I learned how to hate.."
Faint glints of fangs briefly flash in the dark, a deep grin of pride, "..I was the only one who ever left that room."
The gravity of that story is allowed to sink in for a single moment, Not long at all as the Devil slowly begins to draw away. Shifting her weight from the girl's legs as she then simply adds, "You have the greatest potential I have seen in any girl your age. Talent that comes only once a generation.." Her thumb gliding along the girl's brow, sweeping her undone tresses behind her ear, leaving the other side to veil her cobalt-blue eye, "..I can show you how to become stronger than anyone in the world. I know what it takes. And I know you want it.. You desire the strength to claim it more than anything in this world.. I know."
A simple, happy whisper, "..I'm the same way."
The story... the accounting of her childhood conjures up images in Hotaru's mind. In the blackness, the only thing she can see besides Marise's irises are what her mind's eye can visualize. It is easy to picture growing up with everyone treating you as the gentle one. The one that would never hurt someone. The reluctant but talented fighter. She can picture this because it is her own childhood.
She winces once as Marise caresses her hair, the woman's finger having caught briefly on dried blood left over from the head bashings Hotaru had suffered through the night before. But outside of that instant, her touch is frighteningly gentle, ironic when all Hotaru expected from her was to be slain by now.
She pictures the room of children forced to kill to survive. Could she do that? Would she kill the others so that she alone could exit? Would she slay beyond that which was even required of her? Of that she thinks not, but there is a seed of doubt - an uncertainty. One could never deny her resolve to live, at times in the face of impossible power. It shows in how she fights, clinging to the last shread of strength, struggling to survive longer than her opponents can dish it out.
As the fangs glint in the darkness, Hotaru recalls the words of a recent opponent. 'You're quite the fighter, Hotaru Futaba -- very spirited, very gutsy... But you're not focused enough, not /vicious/ enough. Your style is too gentle...' She had found Kirishima's words unnerving. It was the first time she started to wonder if her mother had not done her a favor in insisting that Hotaru be trained in a more gentle art than her brother. Had her mother's choice made her weak?
As the woman backs away finally, the air around her seems to regain its warmth - the chill of death moving away along with its owner. "I want to be stronger," she whispers, the quiest of voice easy to here within this silent room. "I do everything I can to improve. Train, practice, endure... The thought that my brother must think I am too weak to even acknowledge has spurred me on through every hour of it. But..." There is a 'but'. She can't be like this woman. It's impossible. How did Marise come to hate so strongly? To kill so carelessly? Like Elle, did she die inside at a young age? What was the trigger? Hotaru is certain that no such change like that has happened for her. She isn't like either of them. The similarities are... just that. It doesn't mean she's the same in every way. But there is Marise's offer, unmistaken in its simplicity. "What happens if I don't want you to show me...?" Her uncovered eye looks back toward Marise, the question hanging in the air.
Predatory eyes watch Hotaru with intense clarity. Seeing the conflict behind her eyes, the recent memories of her life.. having grown in leaps and bounds since she has returned to Southtown. Perhaps satisfaction gleams in those assured eyes, reflecting a wide smile the darkness refuses to reveal.
The Devil's peace, however, is said. Listening to the girl's own proclamations and motivations, softly tittering at the idea of the abandonment this girl feels at her brother's departure. But she needs not comment further. The seeds have been planted, and the Ninja has finally laid this 'obsession' to rest.
Even if the roots of that strange rivalry were planted in a realm Hotaru could have known. The girl knows now, and Marise is content to leave it at that. For now.
"I need show you nothing." The Devil states simply as those golden eyes seem to float away. Rising higher into the darkness as the ghost must have risen to her feet. A measure of warmth begins to return to the air, as well as the aroma of a hundred breaths fades from the girl's senses. "You.. will show yourself. Soon enough.."
Finally those golden eyes look away from the girl, moving onto less.. personal matters that are no less immediate, "My comrades do not enjoy outstanding vendettas. They are.. bad for business. Yes? Miss Elle brought you here so that we can be.. settled. You no longer need fear me girl. The only terror that should cross your mind.. is interfering with our business again in the future. Until then.."
Inhuman, gold eyes turning to the girl one final time. A faint gleam of fangs reflecting in a grin as she murmurs, "... Remember my offer. When the day comes that hate controls you.. I can show you how to control it.."
Golden eyes close, winking out of existence as her voice lingers, "..And then you will fear ...nothing."
With a faint crackle, the dangling light-bulb in the basement sparks to life. Filling the whole of the room with a harsh illumination.. And the Devil is nowhere to be seen. Moreover.. All of the ropes and bonds that once firmly held the girl in place have been neatly severed, slashed apart so quickly and cleanly that they went unnoticed. Even the door to the stairs, leading to the empty hall above and the exit beyond is open wide for her..
..Free to go. Just like that..
She is silent as the woman backs away, silent as her words are etched firmly in her mind, not to be forgotten. Ever. Silent still as the light comes on and the ropes around her go slack. Her eyes don't even squint at the sudden illumination, as if she doesn't see any of it, conciously or otherwise. Almost as if with their own volition, her hands brush the remants of the cords off. All except for one loop of rope that lands in her palm, her fingers wrapping over it as her eyes stare at the exit that has been opened to her. She doesn't seem to notice the small lick of blue flame that flickers out from between her clenched fingers. The rest of the rope falls to the floor as she slowly opens her fingers, her uncovered eye glancing down to the ash that remains in her palm.
Slowly, she rises to standing, feeling the ache of muscles that have been begging for freedom for hours now. Her opposite hand lifts to brush the bangs over half of her face back behind her ear. The first steps taken are cautious, as if she isn't even certain this is happening. Her movements are as one who just awoke from a dream, a nightmare, and then immediately tried to walk on unsteady feet, as if their mind was still experiencing the haunting visions that troubled their sleep to begin with.
Finally her pace quickens though, her stride becoming more certain. She is alive. And she is free to go. These realizations, while slow to sink at first, are now clutched to with determination. She pauses at the door, glancing over her shoulder at the room behind her. One last sweeping inspection of the chamber she thought to be her tomb.
Like a child that exited a similar chamber decades ago, Hotaru walks out; bloodied, beaten, but alive - a survivor.
Log created on 23:28:43 05/28/2007 by Marise, and last modified on 21:12:54 05/29/2007.