Description: Captured by Kurow, Hotaru is forced to experience the horror of being subject to another's will. In the end, she doesn't seem to find it to be that bad!
The prison Hotaru scouted out -- the very prison that held the horrors the field mouse told her about last night -- is the prison Hotaru now finds herself in. She's in those deep, dark recesses, with the worst conditions, and no doubt the day since she was captured has been one of the worst of her life. She very likely hasn't been fed, has been offered no water -- the terrible conditions have likely weakened her resolve a little.
The only sound here, at first, is the footsteps of one man -- a guard, perhaps? -- walking down the corridor toward her cell. She may not even be awake to hear it... until it abruptly stops, and is replaced by another, more immediate, more worrisome sound. Specifically, a knock at the door of her cell -- more to wake her up than to get her to open it, obviously; if she could open it she would most assuredly not be in such a mess.
"Are you awake yet?" a familiar voice calls, indistinct through the thick metal.
She had come to a good while ago. It didn't take long to figure out what had happened. At least, some of it. She was worried about Ryo. Was he here as well, sharing the same fate? Or maybe even something worse? He wouldn't have just run and left her. She knew that much.
Her injuries - a deep puncture in her shoulder and an unhealthly slash across her stomach, had closed up enough on their own eventually thanks to her fighter's constitution, sparing her from bleeding to death, forgotten and uncared for in this hole. But that's about the only thing that's gone her way. She spent the first moments of consciousness wincing at the pain she still felt from the wounds. And then she turned to the hopeless search for an escape, the priority of any prisoner. But it's no surprise that these cells were meant to contain beings far more powerful than she, so that availed her nothing for her trouble.
Taken to simply sitting, huddled against the wall, blue eyes staring at nothing in particular, the girl has no idea how many minutes or hours have past. It all looks the same in here. At the sound of another outside followed by the knock, she blinks, shifting a little from being startled at the first sound she's heard in hours besides some distant dripping noise of water droplets against concrete somewhere that has been quite annoying.
And then there's the voice and her wide eyes stray toward the door while she remains silent. Sitting here all alone is still preferrable to seeing /him/ again. With all that he had threatened her with, warned her of, and even attempted to do to her before, the thought of being trapped down here with Kurow Kirishima, with him being the one in complete control, is one of the most terrifying things her currently hyper-active mind can imagine.
"I'm coming in, whether or not you're awake," he says, voice firm and even as he opens the door to Hotaru's cell, slipping in as fast as he can and slamming it shut behind him. Unlike Hotaru, the Kirishima youth is well-off; his wounds have been tended to, and quite kindly at that. He's got friends here, friends who have patched him up and made sure he's only felt his absolute best since his successful capture of one of the resistance fighters last night. It must be a disheartening sight for the wounded, huddled Futaba.
The youth sits down across from her, smiling. "I'm not going to hurt you," he says to her, voice deceptively kind and even. "I just want to talk, for right now... I wanted to check on you." This much, at least, is true. "I won't ask why you keep putting yourself in danger, coming up against us. I won't ask you why you stayed to fight me rather than running immediately when Ryo arrived." Isn't that nice -- he's making things easy.
"All I want to know is why you're so insistent that what's happened to Sakura is a bad thing... and what you think you know about her and myself." ... perhpas he /isn't/ making things so easy after all -- those are a pair of very hard questions -- on the stomach, if not on the brain itself.
For one so used to moving about wherever and whenever she has seen fit, being locked up is a jarring experience. Having her list of valid options stripped away, reduced to nearly nothing by the walls of her cell, is not something the girl with a quite privileged upbringing is able to accept yet, even as the hours have slipped by.
However, that she doesn't lunge for Kurow the moment he slips in indicates that she is at least quite aware of her predicament. Fighting him in the open, where she was healthy and at ease with her surroundings obviously didn't go so well. Trying to do the same thing here, no matter how desperate she might feel at the moment, would just be a route to additional pain and injury. She's despondent, not crazy.
Hotaru stays quiet as the young man settles down across from her, eyes locked on every move he makes. She doesn't move though, either to shrink back or adjust her position, her mouth a thin line as he speaks. At his questions though, she finally looks away, eyes coming to rest on the cell floor at her side. For many long seconds, the only sound is that of the infernal dripping of water, each droplet mocking the thirsty girl.
But she does speak up finally, "It's complicated." Hotaru admits. "It isn't wrong to influence a change in someone... it happens every time we interact with another. But it does matter how that influence happens and what we're changing that person into." She looks back at Kurow accusingly now, "You didn't convince Sakura that your ways were right just by talking to her, trying to help her understand. Starvation, dehydration... your music, your will. Turning someone you claim to have respected before into something she isn't. If your cause was so just, then Sakura... the Sakura you said you respected before... she would been able to see the justness of it without all of the manipulation and mind games." The captured girl sighs, resting her chin against her huddled knees now, her arms remaining wrapped around her legs, "That's why it's wrong. That's why it's bad. You couldn't win with words alone, after all."
"She wasn't treated the way you were," Kurow says, quite honestly. "She had a more comfortable experience, to my knowledge -- until she was put into the Psycho Drive, and subjected to the process that Vega uses to make Dolls, alongside Akira Kazama. Surprisingly, that wasn't enough -- both girls were... still themselves, afterward." It is difficult to explain a thing like this to a girl who has clearly never dealt with such things before -- for Kurow, this is second nature, something he's dealt with every day of his life.
Kurow stays where he is, continuing, "She was left with nothing -- her control over her chi was gone, replaced with Vega's psychic energy. At that point, why -- it would have been remiss of me just to leave her that way. If I hadn't stepped in, she would've ended up just another Doll. At least with me, she has some parts of her former self, some semblance of humanity." The young man gives Hotaru such a smile, now. "And... you're right that I couldn't win with words alone, but is that any better than you trying to dissuade me with your fists?" What a /standard/ he holds her to!
The youth looks the captured young lady over once, and says, "It's clear you care for her -- and even if I couldn't win her over with words alone, you've seen how enthusiastic she is about her new life. She's happy, at least -- and even if that did take a little prodding in a certain direction, is that really so terrible? I mean -- would you rather she was still herself, but in the same horrible conditions you're in right now?"
He pauses, cracking a smile. He can't help himself. "Do /you/ really prefer this, for that matter?"
Vega's dolls. Hotaru has heard of them. The resistance fighters she has aligned herself have spoken of them on more than one occasion. Emotionless, heartless, empty husks of the girls they used to be. She's met one, herself, though she didn't know what they were at the time. But even then, she could see the seams. The cracks in the shell. Even whatever process it is... whatever device a Psycho Drive is... it clearly isn't all powerful. Though maybe that's the worst part about it - leaving a remanent of their soul, just enough to feel the pain of having their conscious mind driven by decisions that aren't really theirs. In sparing Sakura that fate, Hotaru can't really argue that Kurow prevented the worst of two possible outcomes. And that acknowledgement causes her jaw to tighten as she regards him with muted hostility.
"I've never tried to punch someone into joining my conquest of a nation," she murmurs back at his first challenge. As he talks of how happy Sakura is, Hotaru thinks of her encounter with Kasugano in a small village near the border. She did seem happy at moments... usually when talking about Kurow. But there were other emotions, more retrained, held in check by the programming - but not completely. Hotaru had seen those too. Lifting her head again, no longer resting her chin on her knees, she replies, "She's enthusiastic because that's how you've made her feel about it... about you. It- it isn't real!" she insists, unwrapping her arms to clench them into fists at her sides.
"You ask me what I would prefer for her. Did you ever ask /her/ that? Before you pulled out that flute of yours and played? Did you care what she wanted?" She shakes her head, "Even if you did ask, you didn't care. Just like you don't care what I feel about my own circumstances." And so she leaves the final question unanswered.
He's not being fully truthful -- in a sense, she is still a Doll; she's one of Vega's Psycho Powered soldiers, living to serve the will of a madman who dreams of being the strongest. However, in another sense, she is not -- there's that spark of life that sets her apart. And yes, that one difference, that little shift that might mean everything in the world and might be completely meaningless, is Kurow Kirishima's handiwork... with those unintended consequences that Hotaru mentions.
"I didn't have time for that. That situation required me to act quickly, and I did -- and I like to think I met the challenge admirably," Kurow says to Hotaru, shaking his head. "... and you're right -- honestly, I don't care how you feel about your fate. Because if I care about you, if I let you take control of my emotions, even for a second, you might get me to do something rash." Kurow feels this comfortable talking to her because he thinks that, not too long from now, it won't even matter.
"Hotaru, if it meant going back to your friends, if it meant having everything work out for you here in Thailand -- except with Sakura, of course... would you be willing to forget how much you hate me?" He asks it as if she has a choice. "Even consider me a friend, a confidant?" What a curious turnaround -- first he's saying he can't care about her, then he's talking as if he could.
She smiles a little at first when he admits to not caring what she might think about what may lie ahead for the captive girl. But it isn't a friendly smile. Mustering a smug expression in spite her circumstances that speaks a simple message: Yeah, that's what I thought.
But then comes the more personal questions and the girl sits up straight, expression darkening a little. She doesn't say anything right away. There's a lot to weigh, really. For all her stubborn determination, and in spite what some might think, Hotaru is far from suicidal. The girl wants to live. She enjoys life, even when the going gets hard. She has dreams, goals, hopes, aspirations. And the thought of losing that... of having all that stolen from her, is terrifying to the young fighter.
He can easily see the turmoil in her eyes. The tempting offer of a chance to go free. To be able to take it all back. Back to friends, back home in the end. Freedom is a precious commodity to place a price on. But to forget what she knows? To give up on Sakura? To consider the monster seated in front of her as something other than what he is? That's asking more than she seems willing to accept. Perhaps just one day in the cell hasn't made her quite desperate enough.
"W-... why would you even ask something like that? Do you think that after all this I'm going to forget about Sakura? I hope that someday I can forgive you... for everything. I... I know the costs of nursing a hatred in one's heart, year after year. I don't want that for myself. But to simply forget what you've done?" She shakes her head slowly. "No. No. I'm not willing to do that."
As expected. She doesn't spit on him, but conversely, she doesn't accept -- she's somewhere in the middle, which is, really, where most people usually are. Getting farther would take a lot of time, and time is one commodity that Kurow really, sorely lacks. He may have to use a little brute force here... Hotaru is still relatively comfortable.
"All right. I understand that -- it is, after all, natural for you to hate me a little. But at the same time... I could make things so much worse." He looks away, reaching into his pocket; a few items come out. A flute -- predictable. A bottle of water -- surprisingly kind, one would suppose. And those clawed gloves, which Hotaru has no doubt become extremely familiar with. "You've felt what I can do before -- that night at Justice High, when I caught you by the neck," he says, slipping one of the gloves on. "And you know that I'm willing to do it -- more painfully than before."
He walks across the room after pocketing the other glove, the flute, and the small water bottle. (His pockets, evidently, are rather deep.) "I liked you when I first met you, Hotaru. I think you have a lot of potential." He doesn't slip those claws in, not yet. "I even think that your association with the Kyokugen fighters is healthy for you -- you're learning to be a lot stronger, more forceful. But you're still weak, and because of that, you're in this situation. Are you /sure/ you don't want to take the easy way out -- and just get back to your life, forget about the worries you've accumulated here?"
When Kurow rises again, Hotaru's eyes widen slightly, following his movements carefully now, though remaining huddled against the wall as she has the whole time. When he reminds her of how he debilitated her with a micro-precise punging of his claw into her neck in what was to become the first of many clashes, she sits up straighter now, her back pressed against the wall. She glances toward the door as if wishing any moment now, someone, anyone might come crashing through it. A timely last second rescue. An impossible coincidence to spare her whatever the young man has in mind. That's how it works in the movies, right?
But it isn't long before Kurow moves closer, intersecting her view of the sealed exit, standing over her with his offer once again. If he's expecting a verbal answer, one doesn't come for a long moment as Hotaru's eyes come to rest on the young man's feet. His presence over her is stifling. Even if she hadn't already tested herself against him time and time again and found his power to be vastly overwhelming, she would feel it now. In this little room, Kurow Kirishima is in control. His will is what rules here.
The young fighter has only ever felt dispair like this one time before. And like the previous time, she crumples almost the same way, her hope caving in to the cold reality of events spiraling rapidly out of her control. Bowing her head, she lifts her hands up, folding them together around the back of her neck as if that could do anything to stop him now. And with that, young Hotaru Futaba does the only thing she can at this point. She begins to cry.
Rather than press forward when Hotaru gives up, rather than shove those claws deep into her and start to siphon what little energy her body still contains after recent events, when Kurow sees her crying, he... stops dead in his tracks. Is he moved somehow by her sadness? Could it be that Hotaru's reached the last vestiges of his humanity that weren't stomped out ages ago by Mugen Imawano's brutality and his own fell ambition? Is there that much human kindness left in Kurow Kirishima?
No. Whatever harsh training the now-defunct Darkside Society Organization's pet assassin was put through, whatever made him one of the most adept fighters on the earth before his sixteenth year, tore that to shreds. Kurow was born with the potential for great cruelty, as many are, and his circumstances brought that potential into full bloom. It's here that he decides to push that fell advantage he has, the one that Futaba hates so very much.
"... I thought that would be your answer," he says, solemnly, still standing over her. It is here that he steps back, pulling out the newest flute, and giving it its first test run. What it does may not be what Hotaru expected; /if/ she lets him play, if she doesn't rush him to knock that flute away, she won't turn into a mindless zombie, that much is for certain. The value of music is in its ability to lead the audience's emotions -- and here, what Kurow is trying to lead her to is a much happier state, accompanied by a slightly floaty feeling. The intended effect is a lot like gas at a dentist's office -- everything feels fine, suddenly. Never mind that parts of you are being chipped away. Never mind that what's replacing them is something artificial -- everything is okay.
It's any wonder if she even hears him at first for the longest while, the only sound accompanying the flute are the sobs of the girl huddled against the wall. But the music Kurow plays now doesn't need to be heard on the conscious level to serve its purpose, for the strangely innocuous sounds of the flute operate at more levels than one.
By the time she does realize that he has taken out his instrument and begun to play the notes she had hoped to never hear, the damage is already done and she begins to question why she would be fighting him in the first place. The weeping stops gradually and then there's the struggle, the inner turmoil as what her gut instinct tells her to do collides so strongly against what her memories, growing less reliable by the moment, seem to indicate she should do.
Fight back. Get up and strike him. But why? What has Kurow ever done? He's a monster. He's a friendly young man. Break the flute, it is worse than the claws. Stop struggling. It doesn't make sense to fight now. He is evil. Choke him. Kill him. Make it stop. Just make it stop. Maybe Kurow will help. Save me.
Hotaru sniffles, her breathing somewhat labored, the byproduct of a crying fit. When she finally moves again, it isn't to lash out at him at all, but rather to wipe her bare arm across her eyes, streaking away some of the tears. Another sniff, and then she slowly looks up, her mind enraptured with the melody of the flute. No one who could create such music could be so horrible, could he? There is a somewhat blankness to the way she looks at him now. Not from lack of cognizance, but rather confusion. She recognizes him, but the context is all wrong. "Kurow... Kurow Kirishima," she murmurs, as if remembering him from somewhere else entirely.
The youth continues to play for a short time after he hears his name whispered by the girl who doesn't know whether to accept him as a close friend or hate him as a horrible monster anymore. He has to put a good, solid nail in the coffin, lock her hatred away, replace it with acceptance -- and a willingness to follow through with things he asks, if they're reasonable. That's all he wants to do for now, though -- she'll no doubt fight him harder if the changes come faster; he thinks he's done enough for now. Removing his claws and pocketing both them and his flute, he sits down net to the confused Hotaru.
He certainly acts like a friend, now. There are no threats of torture or injury, of any hurt at all. There is only what looks like kindness, like a friend in this place where Hotaru is so alone. Reaching back into his pocket, he pulls that small water bottle back out and offers it to her. "I'm sorry you had to go through all that," he says to her, giving her a wretched, honeyed lie. "I was angry with you for what you'd done before -- I wasn't myself. I'm better now, though... and I'm willing to help you get out of here, too." It is now that he tries to help her up, offering his shoulder as support. "We can just walk right out, if you'd like. I'll even take you to get something to eat."
When he comes to sit next to her, the girl recoils a little, inching to the side a bit as she lifts her hands up from the floor and hugs herself tightly as if trying to stave off some deeply rooted chill. But his words conflict with the vague gut reaction she has to his proximity and Hotaru relaxes slowly. Water. That sounds good. "Thanks. I can't remember the last time I had something to drink." She takes the offered bottle and her demeanor begins to shift as she focuses on opening it and taking a much desired drink.
Lowering it from her mouth after a long moment, she looks back at the young man, nodding her head at his words. There's uncertainty there. Things haven't solidified yet, her mind still reeling to make sense of so many conflicting senses at once. But she does know one thing without a doubt. What he's offering she wants more than anything else in the world right now. "I would like to get out of here," she replies agreeably, accepting his offer to help her to her feet.
While one hand remains on his shoulder, Hotarue begins to brush herself off with her other hand - that instinctive desire to remain as clean as possible, habits picked up over years of sheltered upbringing. But in the process, it becomes impossible to miss the unmistakeable slash mark across her stomach, her shirt and vest torn from the powerful attack that felled her. Her brow furrows as her fingers play with the shreaded fabric a little. "I seem to have forgotten some things," comes the thoughtful comment. "I hope it isn't permanent."
Perhaps surprisingly, it's just water; Kurow doesn't want to poison the girl, and drugs are such an inelegant way of getting someone's obedience. Hotaru's thirst is quenched, and that's the full extent of what the water does. After all, if he's going to treat her like a friend, he has to /actually treat her like a friend/. It stretches the believability of what he's done too far if he does anything else.
The youth looks down at the slashes across her stomach, the tears in her clothes. "We'll just have to pick up some new things for you -- enough for you to wear until you get back to Southtown, I suppose," he says, tone somewhat somber as he leads her toward the door, opening it. "I'm sorry about the mess -- things did get a little hectic. I'll cover the costs... it's the least I can do."
As he starts out the door, he adds, "There... is a problem, admittedly. A lot of your friends don't trust me right now... so after you get out of here, you're going to have to tell people you escaped. I know it doesn't make a lot of sense, but nothing really makes sense here in Thailand... you can do that for me -- right?" It's a simple request. Just tell a little white lie -- a believable one, at that. "I'm sorry to put you in this position." The phrase 'that was more than ten lies' might be appropriate here.
Everything he says seems to be taken on face value. There is no argument, no protest, no attempt to question the logic behind it all. Her memory is foggy, but she doesn't feel like it's too important to figure out the details right now either. After all, with Kurow's help, she's getting out of this horrible place. And that's far more important. "Thanks," she replies to his offer to cover the costs. "Normally it wouldn't matter so much, but I don't really have any money that's worth anything here."
As he leads her along, she nods her head slowly, taking in his request openly. "I..." She seems reluctant. Deception is not her strong point. Even on the rare occasion she's attempted it in her life, it's typically failed horribly. But, "I'll try. I will," she promises. "I don't think anyone will ask too many questions about how I got out..." Her voice fades, as if in those moments another thought comes to her mind as to why the manner of her escape will be of little interest compared to something else she might get asked about.
"You're right though," Hotaru aggrees with him solidly about one thing as he escorts her along. "Everything is upside down in Thailand."
Log created on 22:14:39 06/29/2007 by Hotaru, and last modified on 09:59:07 06/30/2007.