Match of the Millennium

Description: The Devil's Choice - Leave a small child to die or surrender to following her worst nightmare to the depths of hell. How far will Hotaru go to keep an innocent from falling prey to Marise's trap? Subject to the whims of the Devil of Koga, the young Futaba must make a journey of discovery through heart, mind, and spirit to find a cure to a deeply rooted malady and unlock the truths she had buried within the most secret chambers of her memory. In the end, it is an experience that will leave them both changed forever.

A quiet weekend afternoon at the Kyokugen Dojo. Classes are during the week for the students that the place has managed to maintain for any length of time. Which, really, isn't all that many. The only way they can even afford to keep the place open is by funneling any and all fight proceeds from their appearances into the dojo to cover expenses. That, and having at least one dedicated student around to do all of the menial wor-, er, entry level training that just so happens to keep the place clean.
Why this very moment Hotaru is engaged in the Wicker Swipe Kata as she sweep, sweeps the dojo porch with a recently purchased broom (The last one she broke trying to smash over Edge's broom-top hairdoo). She passes the boring chore by humming to herself - a habit she's maintained even after having her ear for music called into question by one pesky female ninja not long ago.
Ryo-sensei is off at Otakon for the weekend, trying to recruit for more Kyokugen students no doubt, and Master Takuma is off in France. And with Marco off doing... whatever it is Marco does. She's never had the courage to ask what his escapades entailed exactly, but he does come back with a lot of deep scratches and cuts that look like he's been sparring with a wood chipper or something.
And so, with the students AND instructors out, young Futaba is left alone to tend the place. Hopefully no dojo busters will drop by this week. They end to just end up making more work for her whether or not she actually manages to fend them off.

Momoko doesn't know the town this well. There's usually only certain places her guardian =wants= her to go alone. She got an earful the last time she decided to go out and have her blood drawn. There are some bad people out there, she was told! But really... if they were bad, she'd be able to tell, right? That's what Psycho Power is for! Really, the country girl just puts more stock in humanity than it likely deserves. She's very optimistic!
And besides... this little place is right down the street from the apartment. It's a good neighborhood, how bad could it be? She just... turns the corner and finds something a dojo she'd not seen before! And someone sweeping outside.
Tilting her head to the side for a moment, Momoko figures: this is a good person! And she walks right up with a friendly wave. "Hi!" She already recognizes the sign -- she can read after all! But Hotaru, at first blush, doesn't look like a student. "This is a nice place! It looks like lots of people come here to train... Do you work here?"

Glancing up from her idle sweeping, Hotaru leans her head to the side slightly, studying the source of the cheerful voice. Her smile is quick to come as her humming comes to a stop, blue eyes widening slightly with surprise, "Why, hello there," she speaks, laughing lightly at the question posed. "It IS a nice place. This dojo belongs to Master Takuma Sakazaki and it is a place where people can come to train in Kyokugen Karate. I guess I do work here, after a manner of speaking. I also live here and get training from Master Takuma's son, Ryo-sensei."
She stops to lean the broom against the building wall behind her before turning back to Momoko, hands clasped together in front of her, looking delighted at the cute child that's stopped by to visit. "You're not too young to learn, yourself, you know. I started learning martial arts when I was quite young, myself! You should come inside for some tea... or perhaps some lemonade would pique your fancy? It is kind of hot out here."

Smiling up to Hotaru, Momoko bobs her head cheerily! "Kyokugen Karate... I think I have heard of that! It's quite fun! But also a bit violent..." Hotaru learns it though? "Aaaah... you must get a lot of bruises? You do, right, you do?"
Covering her mouth with a hand, she bows her head once more to Hotaru on the notion that she should learn. "I might! Capoeira teachers say they have nothing left to teach me now..." But at the question of lemonade, Momoko nods once again, setting her clogs aside, and stepping inside. "Thank you! Lemonade sounds great!"
She's so trusting...

Looking a bit sheepish, Hotaru rests a hand behind her head, "I admit, it is kind of a style that revolves around making strong, forceful attacks. It isn't the only style I've learned, though," the girl continues, leading the way into the small dining from through the almost always open sliding paper door. The interior is traditional, all the way down to the low table in the middle of the room where one can kneel for a meal or tasty glass of lemonade.
"I have been able to modify some of the techniques, though, to make up for not having the kind of strength Ryo-sensei or Marco-sensei have." She continues past the table in through the kitchen entrance, "Caporia?" comes the question when she's out of sight, mispronouncing the word just a little. She's familiar it in print, but actually saying the strange word out loud comes as bit of a challenge it seems. The sound of a fridge being opened, followed by the crystaline ring of glasses being filled with ice announce the progress she's making at getting everything ready.
Moments later she appears back in the dining room, having poured herself a glass of lemonade as well. Placing the two cups on the table, she kneels at its side. "That martial art as well. From..." she squints one eye as she tries to remember, "South America originally, was it?" she sounds like she's making a bit of an educated guess. The lemonade itself is very sweet. This batch, made by Hotaru herself, contains a lot of her secret ingrediant: sugar.

Momoko seems to have no trouble kneeling for the table -- food and drink are always worth it! Even though she has a short attention span, it's that, and not pain, that keeps her from kneeling at such tables for long stretches of time. Her parents did raise her in traditional Japanese fashion... even if she's breaking a lot of those same traditions, going across the country and world to kick people in the face!
"Oh, good! Momoko likes changing styles a lot too. It's good to learn as many different kinds as you can while you're still young! That's what Riki-sensei taught me..."
Her eyes follow Hotaru, her hands folding politely in her lap as she waits patiently. She waits until Hotaru sets the glass down, at which point she reaches forward gratefully, giving it a sip. "Ooh, this is delicious! Did you make it yourself?" She seems airheaded, but she did indeed hear Hotaru's question -- her response just comes out-of-order. "Ah... capoeira..." She says it a bit slower, but not so much as to be didactic and rude about it. "... It was actually created in Africa, but a lot of slaves brought it with them to Brazil. So most of capoeira is Brazilian nowadays!" She smiles brightly, taking a bigger sip of her lemonade.
"Mmm, so... are there lessons going on today?"

The girl politely sips her own lemonade, smiling a bit more brightly as the batch meets her high standards of sugary goodness. She takes an extra sip as well, cupping her glass in both hands, "I did make it, thank you. I admit I am a bit proud of myself. The ingredients are quite rare this time of year."
Hotaru nods once in understanding as Momoko speaks the word carefully, herself mimicking the pattern and speaking under her breath, "Cap..o eira. Capoeira. Ah ha!" Genuinely intrigued and interested in knowing how to properly speak such a foreign word. The art certainly seems like it has quite a storied background as well.

"Well.." Hotaru replies to the last question as she closes her eyes, as if drifting into self-reflection, "..Yes there is." She murmurs softly in an unusually.. whimsical tone.

There's only so much time she can spend working on her room in progress before she needs to retreat to the kitchen for a nice, refreshing drink. The standalone little room off to the rear side of the Kyokugen Dojo has been occupying almost all of Hotaru's free time as of late. The walls have been done for a while. The ceiling... had to get done twice. Once before a pesky ninja attack, and then once again /after/. But she hasn't had to do it all on her own either. On some of the mornings she would go out and find that the project was mysteriously further along than she had left it. Figuring that Marco or Ryo must be chipping in a bit of help during the night, she hadn't thought about who her secret helper might actually be.
Today is Painting Day. Which is why she has a red smudge of it on her hands. Meticulously careful, she's managed to keep from getting completely coated by the stuff, at least. There is the sound of footsteps on the wooden porch outside followed by a figure stepping in from outside, her attention on her hand as she tries to rub the paint smudge off.
It's with a start of surprise that she realizes that there are people inside as well. No one was supposed to be around today, and it would be kind of strange for guests to just help themselves to the dinning room...
But as her eyes shift over the two girls at the table she freezes. Of Momoko she knows nothing, but of the other girl? It's as if her image from the mirror has decided to take some time off from being trapped behind the glass after all these years. "Who... what..." she blinks, reaching out to place her hand against the wall, her mind reeling from trying to make sense of what she's seeing, watching herself enjoy a glass of lemonade with the young girl. Is she dreaming? Have the paint fumes gotten to her? Deydration maybe?

Momoko is quite clueless, really. She just knows it's hot out, and this lemonade tastes especially good. She certainly doesn't notice any of the creeeepy undertones to 'Hotaru's' voice as she gives her reply. All she knows is...
Well, it's about naptime anyway, isn't it? Momoko sure loves her naps. She finds herself fighting to even remain sitting at this point, placing one hand on the table as she lists to one side. But darned if she'll fall asleep without being at least =polite= about it!
"Ah... I... I'm not feeling very well all of a sudden... Do you mind if I ..."
Correction: without =trying= to be polite. She literally collapses right then and there, which shouldn't hurt considering how close she already was to the floor.

"Who.. What..." 'Hotaru' murmurs as her other self stands perplexed by the doorway. Yet again sipping her lemonade once more with a completely unconcerned aire, hardly stirring from her polite kneeling position as her newly found friend collapses to the floor across from her.
"Really. With all the times you've looked in the mirror.. Surely you would recognize me?" The poised kenpo mistress answers as she slowly turns her head in her 'own' direction, eyes slowly opening to look upon herself with a slowly widening smile on youthful, small lips.

Eyes of golden irises, with hideous black slits.

"Red streaks.. how appropriate." Gaze moving amongst the painting mishaps strewn about the girl's body. The voice similarly gaining a strange, otherworldly cadence as the faux-girl speaks.

The pallor in her face belies the nausea that passes over young Futaba - a wave of shock, of horror impossible to understand. Her lips, unusually red against the sheet-white color her complexion has become, tighten into a straight line as she finds herself without words. She can't ask 'Who are you?' because the question seems rather ridiculous. She's looking at herself, after all.
It's when those eyes turn to focus on her that she knows. Knows, but doesn't understand. She would never forget those hated, yellow, self-luminescent eyes that glared at her from the darkness of a pitch black room some months ago. "I know who you are," comes the forced reply, her voice sounding weak. "You said I reminded of you of yourself," she continues, pushing off the wall with her hand to stand on her own two feet. "As if I was like you."
A step forward is taken then, the girl's hands clenching into fists, "But when I look at myself in the mirror... I have /never/ seen you," she states with almost too much emphasis. Another step forward is taken, a glance is cast toward the small child where she lies now.
"W-hhat have you done to her?" There's a quiet temper rising in her voice now. "What are you doing? I've bested you before," she states, her mouth trembling as she tries to cope with the combinatin of fear, revulsion, anger. "I've fought you before. I know what makes your skin burn." She stretches her arm out at her side. She knows because it makes her own burn as well. That raw, almost uncontrolled power of hers. Her mirror image would feel it easily now. The build up of chi, strength fueled by quiet enmity for the devil who has taken her form. "Undo whatever it is you've done!" Hotaru demands.

Momoko has a happy dream sequence, swimming with the seals in the Rio de Janeiro Aquarium.

As the girl confronts the dark looking glass, her image's lips twist into a far more wicked smile. The corners of her mouth nearly reaching half way to her ears as a shadow overtakes her expression with a slight nod of her head. The dark chuckle is a sensation more felt than heart, eminating from the depths of the girl's throat as she matches this boast without pause.
"Until now." The Devil of Koga states firmly, the voice of this little abomination now fully her own. An almost incongruous sound of a sultry, mature woman coming from the lips of a teenage girl, "What I am doing is killing her."
The hidden ninja tilts her head towards the collapsed, dreaming little girl, "Weither or not I deign to succeed is entirely beholden to what cooperation you choose to give."
Punctuating that statement of fact with a soft clack of glass on table surface.
Slowly rising with serene grace, 'Hotaru' looms to her full height.. and looms higher. For a bizzare moment it almost seems like the true Hotaru is moving backwards. The shifting surface of the outfit proves the impossible to be true.
In a matter of moments, 'Hotaru' has nearly doubled her age, blossoming into a woman.. The front of her vest quite nearly breaking at the seams, straining fully while baggy pantlegs stretch tighter against shapely long legs.
"True.. you could defeat me now.." The Hotaru woman calmly lifts a hand to brush her thumb over her cheek. The pale surface revealing a familiar beauty mark in the gesture's wake, "..However, you would be consigning this girl to the abyss as assuredly as slitting her throat yourself." Pigtails suddenly slithering, worming their way out of their cutely arranged configuration to spill over the ghost's shoulders in an avalanche of shadow.

Frighteningly enough.. Fully grown.. Why did she look so familiar? Almost like..

To hear the woman's voice speak from a visage that so exactingly matches her own is a sight that will haunt Hotaru's nightmares for a long time to come. "No... why..." comes the questioning gasp as the woman speaks of killing the child. But the why becomes obvious. Leverage. The devil's choice. Forced to weigh the fate of an innocent against her own. It's not a fair predicament to be put into unless you're a heartless monster. Because in situations such as that, choice is merely an illusion every bit as chimerical as the sight of a second young Hotaru Futaba in the room.
Lowering her arm, Hotaru hesitates as the phantasm dispels the disguise and takes on her true form once again, becoming the woman Hotaru knew her to be. The spike of power that was building up a moment ago fades now. There is the trapped look in her wide, blue eyes. The knowledge that she can only give one answer and that Marise already knows what that answer is. She can't remit the sleeping child's fate to the devil woman's hands as a debt to preserve her own life.
"Fine," she replies, trying to sound like she hasn't completely given in but the effort does little to conceal the truth. "Fine," she says again, this time more urgently, "Whatever you want. Don't kill her. Don't hurt someone just because you want to get to me... please." comes the plea. She looks the now full sized woman over.
There is a nagging in the back of her mind that she resembles someone. Long, black hair framing a face that looks familiar but for the malicious edge to it. As she averts her eyes for a moment, it's clear that the girl's mind has made a horrible connection, the ramifications of which are too unnerving to even voice.

The Devil turns her gaze from the horrified girl, considering her hostage a moment while awaiting Hotaru's defiance to come to realize its own futility. Stepping around the table before gracefully kneeling down at Momoko's side. A hand reaches forth as fingertips sift through the little girl's hair. The Devil's skin slowly fading to its stark paleness as moments pass, becoming more and more like the monsterous thing the Kenpo mistress so clearly remembers. And less and less what she thought she had recognized moments prior.
"Accepted." The single word reply to the young warrior's submission. Absently murmuring to herself a moment as she cups the girl's cheek, "Such a pretty little thing.. So filled with youth and promise. I wonder what she could grow to be... Will she know a lover's touch? Will she champion her arts and bring its name honor? ....Will she die a grandmother with many memories to take with her to the next world?"

The Devil seems lost in her thoughful considerations a moment. "But then.." Fingertips drawing away as her gaze returns to the resolved warrior in question, "That depends upon you. Does it not?"

Returning her wicked thoughts to the topic at hand, Marise feels no dishonor in what she has done. There is more to strength than the striking of fists or secretive techniques of arcane schools.
Cunning. Intelligence. Ambition. Hate. Those are far more potent weapons than any sword, fist or derivation thereof. Weapons the Devil brandishes with cold, clinical precision when the moment requires. Many in this world judge their power by whom they can break with their bare hands or how many minions they command.
Fewer still know what true strength actually is.

"You will accompany me. The toxin in her veins will still her heart in precisely twenty four hours hence. This leaves us little time." Rising smoothly to her feet once more as she calmly heads for the door.. Pausing to glance over her shoulder as a whimsical smile and catching the girl with a mischevious gleam of her hellish eye, "..Assuming you wish her to live.. of course."

When Marise speaks again, Hotaru glances back at her almost reluctantly as if afraid of what she is looking at. She has fought the woman before. Many times. So it isn't her natural appearance that troubles her so but rather the familiarity. But when she looks again and the woman's skin has regained its unnatural, bloodless shade, Hotaru shakes her head slightly, dismissing the connections from her mind. Surely she was mistaken. There's no way the fiend looked, for a fleeting moment, so very much like her own mother...
As the wicked thing caresses the sleeping girl, Hotaru can only watch as if rooted to the floor where she stands. Helpless to act, for this moment, both Momoko and herself are completely at the mercy of that living nightmare. And then comes the demand. The 'offer', as it were, to be complied with to spare the young martial artist.
There is no doubt in Hotaru's mind. No suspicion that Marise might be bluffing. As she has warned others who have crossed the path of this woman - Marise doesn't bluff. "I do." comes the reply. Twenty-four hours with Momoko's fate hanging in the balance. Hotaru closes her eyes, her head bowing as she clasps her hands together in front of her, her shoulders slouching a little. She looks almost like a prisoner in the confines of her own dojo, a place where she /should/ feel the most secure. "I will come with you. But if I do so then she shouldn't have to wait the twenty-four hours. Take me," she pleads, holding up her hands, still clasped together, "But cure her now." It's so hard to trust bloodthirsty evil spirits from the past that refused to stay dead to keep their word, after all.

The Devil approaches the exit. A pale hand gently gliding over the surface of the finished wood, a bit rough with abuse but clearly well cared for. The Kyokugen Dojo is everything to the family that cares for it. The house of their art, their strength and their honor. Even a creature such as she can appreciate such things. Even if, perhaps, their dogged determination is entirely misplaced. But that.. is neither here nor there.

At the girl's pleading request, the Devil does not so much as turn to even look, "You.. my dear.. make it sound suspiciously as if you have anything resembling choice in the matter."

Choice is an intriguing thing. Something Marise rather enjoys giving, as a source of amusement. Choice, when you boil it down, is who someone thinks they are. Just as Hotaru would never trade someone else's life for her own, says precisely who she is.

Of course, when Marise has something important and necessary to accomplish, she's also quite proficient at removing even a semblence of choice's existance. Such an ironic thing.. The very concept that makes people who they are and so different and chaotic.. makes them all so terribly predictable.
The idea of Hotaru saying 'No' was very carefully and cunningly removed from the realm of possibility. The Devil has no intention of giving the girl an inch, now that she's willingly thrown on her shackles. Confusion is never good for authority.

With those simple words, The Devil strides out of the Dojo. Fully expecting the captive of conscience to be ten steps behind.

As for Momoko? ..She will be safe. For a few more hours, at least.

Left behind for a moment, Hotaru glances down at the sleeping Momoko before glaring at the exit. Outside of the room the day seems to have gotten darker - what was a sun shine filled afternoon seems only grey to her eyes now. Her breaths come more hurried as panic begins to set in. The proverbial clock is ticking. The fiend has made her departure and Hotaru has no choice but to follow, trapped in a very literal sense of the word, her next actions controlled by the whims of the heartless creature.
When her feet finally become unrooted from the floor, Hotaru darts toward the exit, sliding to a stop next to it. Mounted on the wall is a plastic whiteboard with a single black dry erase marker suspended from a cord at its side. A very old-style method of leaving messages around the often busy dojo. Taking hold of the marker, Hotaru glances fervently at the clock on the nearby wall and begins to scribble. 'Shes been poisoned The lemonade has it Make her comfortable If not back by 11:00am with cure go the the hospital~' Twenty-three hours.
Releasing the marker, Hotaru dashes out the door, one last glance cast over her shoulder before she hurries on. She mustn't keep The Devil of Koga waiting, after all. Time is most certainly of the essence now.

Once again, Hotaru finds herself in darkness and at the whims of her captor. This time, however, is a little different.
The only impediment the girl has this time is a simple blindfold, tied about her eyes herself. No bindings, no handcuffs or locked doors. Simply, she knows she is in the backseat of a sedan. Seated confortably with the seatbelt strapped around her middle.
The girl can only begin to imagine the mess of the leather upholstery her mostly-dried paint stains have made, but thats the least concern of anyone who truly matters.

How long she has been a passenger, the girl cannot begin to say. Without visual markers or a watch, its difficult to tell precisely how much time has past. A situation which would be uncomfortable even in the best of circumstances, doubly so considering how much of an enemy has become.

A little innocent girl's life hangs in the balance. And every moment, every heartbeat, that passes makes the prospect of her survival less likely.

Of the situation, Hotaru only knows that Marise led her to a parked car near the Dojo. The driver seemed to be some manner of hired gun. Not quite a thug, actually looking fairly clean cut with a decent suit and opaque sunglasses. The sedan, itself, a nice black towncar.

It would seem the Devil has been walking in higher circles since the end of the Thailand War.

The order was simple. Make herself comfortable and don the blindfold. Or her eyes would be removed and fed to passing crows. Naturally, the choice didn't take much time to linger over.
Where they were going? No word. How long it would take to get there? No word.
Hotaru knows, however, that the Devil rides with her. Shotgun alongside the driver, whom certainly makes no sound throughout this entire kidnapping. Her presense is equally silent, but unmistakable as the uneasy, chilling sensation has never left the confined space of the car.

It's been an eternity of driving, its already felt like hours at the very least from what reckoning she can manage. For perhaps the last hour or two, however, the pattern of the vehicle's movements has begun to change. Her ears popping from the diminishing pressure, the feeling of winding roads. A mountain range, perhaps? Further inland.. Much further.

It took a while into the trip for her breathing to calm down. Helpless to do anything besides sit there, there's not much else to do besides let her mind wander and think of all the horrible things that could happen, which only serves to worsen her breathing to the point that at first it seems like the blindfolded girl might just hyperventilate in the back seat. But she calms down after a while, trying to focus harder and pay attention to where the car is going - feeling the turns the sedan has taken and trying to picture the route in her head. But after a while she gives up. The trip is far too long for that to have been at all useful.
In fact, one might even think that the pig-tailed captive has fallen asleep eventually, as she says nothing to either of the other two occupants of the car. But now and then she lifts her hand to rub at her cheek or lightly finger the blindfold. She doesn't remove it though. Marise's threat when she put it on didn't really leave much room for argument. There was no doubt in Hotaru's mind that the woman would blind her permanently if there was any indication that the cloth wouldn't be sufficient to keep her from seeing what she wasn't supposed to.
At some points when the vehicle slows the urge to remove the seatbelt and make a desperate leap from the car is difficult to squelch. She may have gotten this far voluntarily, but staying along for the ride is a constant test, a battle between a desperate will to live against the helplessness of having a young girl's life riding on her decisions now.
But she stays seated, turning her head occasionally, finding the inability to see her environment more aggrivating than she ever thought it would be. Hands play over the surface of the seat, and at some moments, rest against the belt buckle, tensing as Hotaru wrestles with the temptation to bolt time and time again.

A contest that, eventually, will have a result.

For the past several minutes, the vehicle seems to slow itself down somewhat. The jolting, bouncing sensations imply that they've begun to leave the beaten, paved path into territory far less tamed. The sounds of small rocks pelting the back of the finish, the occasional spinning of street-worthy tires testing their worth against the untamed elements.

Moments later, and for the first time in a small infinity, the vehicle comes to a rest.

"Park here. Stay with the car." The Devil's voice rings out for the first time since the voyage began. The driver's reaction isn't verbal, but the ghastly woman is not one to brook argument from anyone subordinate. One door opens, and moments later followed by a second closer to the kidnapped girl.

"We are here. Remove your blindfold." The woman states calmly into the opened door.


The thin, cool, clean air gives hints that renewed sight confirms. As the dust settles about the car, its clear that they've traveled high in the mountains. A look around the picturesque scenery confirms it. The time has grown late since last the girl held vision, the sun setting beyond the mountains and casting clouds mingling amidst the mountain peaks in a ruddy crimson hue beneath a dark violet sky. The immediate vicinity is wooded thickly, bordering on a steep mountainside and observing a vast valley down below. The occasional glitter of a distant city can be seen just on the far horizon. Glimpses of civilization that they have long since left for this sojourn.

The Devil, it would seem, found enough time at some point to change into her usual attire. Dark kimono clad about her form as she looks up the mountainside silently for a long moment. Her expresion almost.. pensive in a way.

"In the trunk you will find a case. Bring it." She orders, gaze never moving from the serene mountainside above.

She can tell when the trip has come to an end, the car rolling to a stop, crunching gravel beneath its tires. While she never quite fell asleep, she certainly had plenty of time to let her mind wander. Thinking about the poisoned girl. Thinking about friends, teachers, mentors. Puzzling further the mystery of the boy from Justice High about whom her mind seems so confused. Things she needs to do if she survives this. Things she wish she had done before.
When the door is opened and the permission at long last comes to remove the blindfold, she does so, slipping the cloth up and over her eyes, then down around her pig-tails. She gets out of the car, still clutching the blindfold in one hand as she takes in their surroundings. Another glance is cast toward the driver, a quiet inspection of the car, then she's moving toward the trunk.
It seems the devilish woman has come a long way in such a very short time, muses the girl. First it was her alone... then her and Elle... but now? Drivers, subordinates, expensive cars. What is she up to?
The case is retrieved obediantely as requested. For all the fight Hotaru could give the woman, her ability to do so is checked by the heavy burden that holds her back now. As she hefts the case, she takes the time to look around, noticing how long the shadows have grown with the lateness of the hour. At long last she finds her voice again and the question comes, "What are we doing way out here? So far away from everything?"
Hotaru looks off into the horizon, at the twinkling lights of a city bracing for night. Why drag her to this far off place? Surely the woman could have taken her anywhere she pleased...

"Follow." The Devil states succinctly, snapping her hand forth and unfurling her familiar parasol and holding it across a shoulder. What utility such a device could have at such a dark sunset is oblique at best. Of course, this creature has a way of doing things that most could not even fathom, but never without purpose.

The case itself is rather hefty. A large, dark traveling case. Easily a hundred pounds or more and barely fits in the trunk of the sizable luxury car.

Strolling further towards the woods, upon closer inspection a very decrepid staircase can be seen amidst the underbrush. Most cracked, some missing and all obscured beneath fallen leaves or over-hanging fronds or tufts of grass wedging themselves within weaknesses of stone.
They seem to disappear up into the mountainside.. high up from what eyes can tell. The captor hesitates not a single moment. Walking with .. familiarity as she ascends.

Without so much as looking behind her, Marise states, "The Kyokugen has given you strength girl.." Quiet voice carrying above the mountain breeze, "..When I first saw you, I doubt you could have walked ten paces with such a burden." The observation is the only reply the inquisitive girl recieves to her demanding questions.. Perhaps such recent history is likewise running through this woman's mind.. in addition to things long past.

It still takes two hands to keep the case in tow, and from time to time, Hotaru has to shift which side of her she's holding it, swapping which arm has to handle the brunt of the weight. She follows when told of course, widened eyes looking all around her. Normally such a naturally secluded site would be a place of refuge for it. Quiet, distant, peaceful. But the tranquility that would normally bring comfort offers only solitude here as Hotaru feels so very much alone in spite standing only a few feet from another.
The steps are far more difficult for her to navigate than for the woman who leads the way and she has to take them one at a time, bringing both feet to each step before advancing to the next one.
The observation causes Hotaru to blink - especially for its accuracy. While the case is clearly weighing her down, it would have been an imense struggle to keep her fingers wrapped around the handle a few months ago. "Ryo-sensei emphasizes a lot of exercise," comes the quiet reply, almost as if making conversation with the devil.
Exercising, construction projects, a school backpack with lead lining... the physical exertion her body has been through in recent months has been non-trivial to say the least. But her body seems to have responded well to it. Firm arm muscles, visibly taut beneath her skin, are visible as she shifts the side she carries the travelling case on once again before advancing to the next step into the heart of the mountain.

And the step after that. And the step after that.

As the ascent continues, the voyage seems almost without end. The stairs zig and zag this way and that throughout the foliage, turning about a paticular pattern of rocks to better negotiate the natural contours of the mountain itself. The cool evening goes a long way towards soothing aching muscles as the night air hardly seems to touch the girl's body.

"Your heart has grown to match." The Devil states again in a calm, contemplative tone. A statement that strangely seems to inspire the dark maiden to answer the girl's previous questions as she continues her unhurried progress.
"I require something. Something obtainable only with your help. This.. is the only place where such help may be.. conducted."

It takes a while, but the girl does begin to sound winded, her breaths coming harder as she continues to lug the heavy weight up the steep stairs into the mountain. While Marise's pace seems unhurried, it's a struggle to keep up with her as this endeavor rapidly devolves into what feels very much like what Ryo would have her do when they go shopping. It isn't unusual to see her burdened by a dozon or more bags whenever the two hit the store. Why use a cart when you can bring a student? seems to be the line of thinking.
Her heart though? Hotaru is quiet to that commentary. Perhaps she doesn't feel it, her mind wandering over recent weeks where she found her courage riddled with doubts. Uncertainty about whether she was a help or a hinderance in Thailand. Growing concerns about her own abilities; the burning pain of drawing upon her chi to augment her fighting style. Has her heart grown as well? She knows she isn't the girl she was just months ago, but she isn't certain that she hasn't faltered some - that perhaps her resolve has weakened in the face of all that she has been through.
At the revelation, the girl is silent for a long moment - the only sound of Marise's little servant is the heavy breaths she's taking as this stairway seems to extend to eternity. But finally she asks, eyes straying over the weather beaten path, "...how long has it been since you came here?" comes the question. "This is some place special. From your past?"

To that question, the Devil makes no easy answer.
Always difficult to read what is going on in the ghoulish maiden's mind. Especially with her back turned and head hidden beneath her parasol as it is now. It is difficult to say weither or not such a weighty question has driven her back to her natural state of silence. Or simply that the Devil relishes keeping the girl guessing in some manner of cruel game of deceit. Given history, one would not bet against the latter.

Time passes as the stairs continue to wind their way upwards. Another hour at least on foot. The Devil seems to occasionally pause in her climbing, a concession to Hotaru's tired flesh.. or as a mask for her own hidden endurance which cannot be so infinite. The woman, however, never seems to breathe hard. Not a hair out of place nor the glistening of sweat on her neck. Truly, she seems for all the world like an ethereal thing. That is, until one feels her touch.

After a long while, the stairs finally seem to reach a plateau amidst the mountainside. The surrounding peaks obscured by misty clouds that obscure much of the landscape below as night has fully fallen. The moon large and gleaming closely enough to seem like a single leap could let a man touch its silvery surface.

"This was home to me.. once."
TThe Devil states as she stands at the top of the stairs, allowing the girl to move past her and see....

... Nothing. Not even a ruin. Perhaps once, there may have been enough of a clearing here to support a small village.. But nestled in the mountainside there's a stretch of grass and stones, bordered by more forest. The only sign that humans had ever trode here before is a single stone.. A tall edifice that is featureless save for a single rope tied around it and knotted in a very deliberate, reverent manner.
Few who live today know of such significance, but all born in Japan would know that this.. is a Seal. A sign of holiness to ward off something.. unclean.

Etheral. Perfectly preserved. Unaffected by the world around her. A walker between the world of the living and the dead. Hotaru thinks these things and more as she takes advantage of those few, precious pauses to study the other woman, at times resting the case against a step so that she can clench and unclench her strained fingers.
When they reach the summit, however, Hotaru pauses at the stairs, looking back over her shoulder at the heights they climbed. A leap - a false step would doom a man. But that fate may be mercy compared to what else has happened here in the past. Turning forward once more, she moves to the side of Marise, taking in the clearing. Home?
She remembers well the words whispered to her in the dark. Of a village wiped out - exterminated, for the good of all Japan. A mistake erased, an evil sin buried in the past. The sealed stone becomes the focus of the girl's attention. Solid, sturdy, standing the test of time. What horrors does it keep at bay? What taint was it placed to ward against? Sapphire blue eyes stray back toward Marise as Hotaru's mind unravels what few clues it can.
That seal and this woman are linked. It exists because of this thing standing next to her. "What do you need my help for?" comes the reluctant question, the words hesitant, as if she already suspects the answer.

The girl's careful observations will also reveal that Marise takes not a step further from the top most stone of the stairs. Standing to the side just enough for the smaller girl to make her way past her, but not so much as allowing her toes to touch a single blade of grass of that meadow.

Unlike her youthful conscript, the Devil looks upon that stone with nothing short of loathing. Golden eyes glaring at the solemn surface with such visible hate that could she translate emotion to force, the granite statue would be sundered and crushed to a million shards.
"Destroy.. That." The maiden's violet lips twist with revulsion, as if unwilling to directly address that hateful remnant of the past.

The stone is clearly imposing and strong.. But the girl has shattered stronger things with her power before. The War in Thailand and Shadaloo's tanks. Even the bodies of warriors who's training rendered their flesh harder than any mortal stone. Acacia. Grant.

"Then we shall finish the journey to where our real work will begin." The Devil's voice growing in force. Perhaps.. eagerness? Hunger.
However, while the girl begins in her task, the Devil now speaks more of this great work ahead of them, "My Clan was killed to the last. This was the site of our Village long ago. Where our families worked and made their way in the world. Of course.." The ghost murmurs with a slow smile, "..It is not where we practiced our ways. Our training grounds are hidden within the Earth. Away from the eyes of Men and Heaven. You should feel priviledged, Girl. No outsider has ever set foot.. in where you will soon go."

The case gets put down, resting against the top step of the long stair. Fingers, tired and strained, clench and stretch as the girl is given her next instruction. Destroy the seal? A barrier from times past placed to keep this tainted creature at bay? Hotaru closes her eyes and lifts her face toward the moon as she remains rooted in place for a long, painful moment.
To desecrate a holy ward? To undo the work of a collective far wiser than herself? What will she unleash? What darkness will manifest itself, all because she helps this woman achieve her goal? Opening her eyes, she begins to walk forward, gazing at the monoument to more evil times long past. The rope around it looks old... really old. But it still holds true, even after all these years.
She wavers at the stone for a long, long time, asking herself the nausiating question. What is the value of the child's life compared to what she is enabling here? How can she even make that decision? Why does she have to make it? The pig-tailed girl glances over her shoulder with a cold, hateful stare back at Marise, punctuated by two small streams of tears running down her cheaks, almost invisible in the darkness. For the seething loathing the woman has for the stone, Hotaru manifests the same twisted wrath back at her. If it were within her power to save the poisoned girl and still crush this woman, she would. She might not even be able to stop herself from finishing the job she almost started months ago when she clenched her hands tightly around the devil's neck and squeezed for all she was worth.
But like every other decision that has brought herself this far, Hotaru finds the options to be only illusions. She has but only one choice she can make. Slowly she turns away from her captor and swings hard with her foot into the side of the rock. "YA!" Small white chips shatter, her foot driving not just physical force but a small wedge of blue, vibrant chi into the rock. "YA!" she kicks again, creating a crack. "YA!" she punches this time, that same blue spark augmenting the force of the punch as she drives knuckles into stone.
Again and again she swings, each strike laborous, as if she is fighting against an exhaustion far worse than that caused by the steep climb here. The sound of rock giving way to force almost hides the quiet sobbing chokes in Hotaru's throat. The rock begins to crumble though, the rope falling slack, and finally the girl pauses to extend her arms to her sides, both arms beginning to glow with a vibrant blue. Then she brings them both forward, smashing her palms into the weakest point of the stone, pouring the energy in her arms directly into its core. "YAAAA!"
The rock shatters, large slabs falling to the side, split asunder, and Hotaru sinks to her knees in the grass, folding her arms in front of her, her hands desperately rubbing over her forarms as she hisses in pain, tears blinding her eyes.

Widened eyes meet Hotaru's own as she turns back to offer the Devil a small glimpse of the burgeoning hatred within her small, wearied body. Gold eyes not widened by shock or surprise, but by expectation. Excitement. The woman seemingly breathing with righteous furor as the girl approaches the heavenly impediment.
That moment tempered only with a slight incline of her features. Wordlessly repeating her order with a steely glare.

Do it.

The first of those hard punches elicits a sharp breath from the Ninja. A jubliant grin plays upon her lips as the once-holy thing is reduced to so much rubble in a cascade of living power. The bits of stone rain all throughout the meadow as the mist-like dust only begins to settle around the girl's feet.

No lightning strikes, no riot of demonic power surges forth. Only silence. Even the mountains themselves seem to fall quiet, as if the world itself was holding its breath in pensive horror at this spiritual transgression.

The only sound that can be heard now, beyond the girl's own mewling, is the sound of feet touching grass for the first time in a very, very long time. Marise often goes unheard in all her movements. Her clothes almost never rustle or shift, her gait smooth and graceful as if she perpetually floats an inch off the ground. The only time she's heard in such a trivial matter is when she -wants- to be.

The Devil's own eyes close as the parasol falls to the side. Tilting her head back and basking in the moonlight while feeling the touch of grass of her own homeland.
"...Your failure is complete Hanzo.." She whispers to herself, audible enough to be heard. Audible enough to mock the Heavens above as her banishment finally comes to an end.
A Child of Koga has finally come home.

The Devil does not dwell in this moment for long. There is work to be done.. And the fullness of her victory is not yet acchieved. There will be plenty of time to savor it all.. later.
"Rise." The Devil orders as she approaches the kneeling girl. Fingers reaching forth to touch beneath her chin. A brief, vaguely possessive gesture if only in passing. Of the holy ruin at the girl's knees? ... The Devil would spit on it if such a thing would be entirely unlady-like. As is, she issues the shattered monument a derisive sneer and continues along, pacing further across the meadow and towards another thicket of woods further along the mountain peak, "Retrieve the case. I will open the door."

What has she done? What has this ruin wrought? Hotaru stays put until Marise comes to her side, the passing burn in her arms fading away, only to be replaced by the ache in her soul - the knowledge that she has enabled something truly evil to take place. Even if she had no choice, what goes forward now happens because she allowed it to.
As Koga's wayward draws close and touches her beneath the chin, the vastly younger girl is shaken from her reverie, looking up into those pools of yellow in the face of her enemy. She can already see it in the way the woman moves. Joy would be the wrong word for it, for the girl is certain she hasn't felt that in many, many years. But a certain... satisfaction as she now strides across grass that has been untouched by her kind for a very... very long time.
Hotaru had always wondered... the style of dress, the mannerisms... harkened back to traditional ways; something the properly raised girl has always been somewhat a student of. But more and more she is beginning to believe that the woman isn't just chosing to mimic the old ways... perhaps she /lived/ them.
The instruction to rise brings her to her feet slowly. The thought of lugging that case around is hardly one the girl is looking forward to, but compared to the other pains she's feeling right now, the physical effort is hardly of importance.
She starts to walk toward the case left behind, looking over her shoulder at the ruined monument as she does. Hefting the travel case with both of her hands, she glances around the lonely acreage then looks up at the moon - the lone, silvery witness to what travesty has been set in motion here.
Lowering her face, a shadow of shame in her eyes, Hotaru moves after the woman heading near the copse of trees.

The first of many travesties to come.

The thicket is closer here, a confusing mazework of lumber that would take only seconds to get lost within if the Devil did not remain within line of sight at all times. The wicked woman's pace quickens, but only a fraction. Her eagerness finally beginning to get the better of her usual reserve, but Marise's pace is never more than a brisk walk. Fingertips touching the bark of trees, sifting through branches of leaves. Either searching for unknowable clues or simply reveling in returning to a place that means something to her.
The path only becomes more entangled and complex as the walk goes on. Seeming to double-back in certain places and almost seems as if they were going in circles..
Until a final bend in the path reveals .... A wall of stone. The facade of the mountain, sheer and nearly featureless. Rising high to the snow-capped peaks not far above. The end of the road and the paths of man.

The Devil strides closer. Palms touching the rocky surface, tracing some unseen patterns and grooves within its stoney face. "Long ago, even before we were executed, my people were exiled for our ways. Reviled by the Emperor. Kept at arms length by the warlords preceeding his pathetic line.."
Nailed fingers continue tracing, searching for something that clearly normal eyes cannot percieve, "We have long learned to keep our practice hidden in the dark places of the world. Within solitude, we had learned-"
Voice interrupted by the sound of groaning rock. Crumbling stone echos throughout the grove as the wall collapses inwards with a slow shuddering heave. Revealing a pair of massive doors, as thick as a man and forged of solid rock. Moving on hinges and fitted slabs etched so precisely.. unmoved it is all but invisible.
From the darkness beyond the doors a cold, bone-chilling wind rushes forth. Upon the wind is a sensation so foul its a miracle the nearby trees do not simply shrivel and die as the dark breath of the Earth filters through them.
"To work miracles." Golden eyes turning to face the girl once more, the corner of her lip twisted into a grin, "This is where the secrets of my Clan remain hidden from the world beyond. The dying girl's cure can only be found within there.." Eyes turning once more to the dark.
"As well as a cure.. for both of us."

Hotaru is a natural at navigating environments untouched by human hands. It's a passive instinct, nothing she had honed over the years. She just always could. Much like her link with animals so few know about and even fewer could explain. And even with her typical inability to get lost within a forest, she finds herself disoriented before long while following Marise, having to struggle a little to keep up the slightly quickened pace while dragging the suitcase along. "What is in this?" comes the begged question at one point.
Even still, Hotaru gets the vague sensation that with two or three more trips through the labyrinth of trees she would be familiar with the path. There's that certain nagging in the back of her mind that she /almost/ already understands the way even as Marise guides, and that it would take but another pass to learn it for herself.
When they stop at the rocky face, Hotaru pauses, lowering the case to the ground, once again flexing her tired fingers. She listens to the woman, eyes studying the face of the mountain, watching everything the ninja from old does. She isn't sure why she wants to know such details herself - but in spite all of her revulsion about every detail dealing with Marise, there is a deep lying facination with the secrets she keeps so carefully hidden.
When the door opens, Hotaru gasps, turning her side toward the gaping maw, almost cowering, one hand coming up to rest over her mouth and nose. She looks repulsed by the breath of an enigma long dead that washes over the two of them now, attention tearing from the black hole to look into Marise's face once more as their eyes meet briefly.
When the woman's back is to her once more, Hotaru stammers, "A cure? For me? Nothing is wrong with me." At least, nothing that /she/ would care about. "Did you poison me as well?" comes the suspicious challenge. Is that why she needs a cure too?

"You were poisoned long ago."
The Devil states without hesitation, folding her parasol neatly and leaning the bamboo shaft carefully within the interior of the cave. She has no need of that where they're going. Turning once more towards the girl. Approaching the diminutive warrior with a menacing aura. A hand slowly reaching forth..
"..But not by me." Fingers gripping a side-pocket of the case. Revealing what appears to be a pair of torches. The scent of oil strong enough to be unmistakeable as the two ancient-looking devices are held aloft. While the modern world has far more efficient means of illumination.. One does not fly in the face of tradition so lightly. The Devil would never treat this sacred place with such an uncouth transgression as a flashlight.
"No. Your malady is rooted deeply in something else entirely."
Marise moves to strike a carefully prepared flint upon a surface of the inner wall, alighting the torch and radiating its lumination to the darkness beyond. Revealing.. Yet another set of stairs. These all heading downwards.. To much further than the eye can percieve through such umbral shadow.
"There is an imbalance in you, girl. And there is only one who can correct such a thing." Painted lips twisting into a wry grin as she turns and begins her descent in full. Fully knowing that the girl is only a few steps behind. "The great master who taught me."

"Maou."
The Devil King.

More steps.

The journey to the heart of the mountain may well have as many steps as the path to its peak. Winding lower and lower towards the hollows of the world. The path continues further than the eye can see from the luminous clarity of the torch light. The walls seem crafted of a dark, igneous rock as the forgotten veins of a long-dormant volcano. Smoothed both from the molten generation and time.

Though, the constant billowing breeze from below seems to have created a strange wonder in their endless howling.

A song. A strange, haunting melody plays like a chorus of a hundred, soft flutes. Piping an endless serenade like a symphony of madness. The source of this dark wonder?
The walls and ceiling seem.. shaped. Carved over time but it doesn't seem to be the works of human hands. The endless erosion from the black breath of the world etched itself into the very rock.
If a famed Rock Garden is properly patterned to best ascentuate the flow of chi, the living breath.. Than this rock garden was twisted over time by a darker essence. Warped by its unnatural air flows until the passage itself endlessly sings a song crafted from hundreds of years of malevolent whispers in the dark.

The Devil of Koga seems soothed by the sound, for what little emotion the girl can glean from focusing on lugging the case along. A certain serenity overtakes her as if listening to a pleasant, soul-stirring orchestra.
Afterall, this is the song she hums to herself whenever she feels like singing..

Into the depths the duo travels. One leads, feeling perhaps stronger with each step; returning home, being imbued with energies that shaped her in times past. The other follows and with each step grows more tired, weaker, drained. The case in Hotaru's grip feels heavier than it has through the last few hours that have brought them here. The moment they plunged, she felt her stomach tighten. She is not so in tune with her own body's energies to know for certain the disruption, the havoc being played there. But she can feel it and wonder all the same.
Her breaths have been getting harsher as if finding herself oxygen deprived her need to pause becomes more frequent. She is left to allow her imagination to explain what history happened here. What dark arts were trained. What tainted the earth so as to construct this unhallowed pit.
"It's so far down," the girl murmurs after a long ways. "And this sound..." She shakes her head, a grimace demonstrating her distaste for that which serenades the two.
She has, otherwise, been silent since Marise declared her poisoned, unbalanced, in need of a cure. Her mind wanders. The woman spoke of Maou - her great master. Surely no one could be alive down here. That would be impossible. Then again, is that ethereal being that guides her even alive? Hoaru quietly studies her from behind once again. She seems so untouched by everything... The very first time she saw her, she was certain she had seen a ghost. Now, more than ever, she suspects that she was right.

The Devil pauses in her descent, her back remaining towards her escort as she continues to face the darkness below. For as hard as Marise drives Hotaru, she knows the girl isn't an endless resevoir of endurance. Any other girl her age and size would have collapsed from complete exaustion an hour ago from what she has already endured. A concession to her sapped vitality, the Devil simply waits to allow her to catch her breath for a few moments.
"Ssshh..." Marise softly murmurs. Lifting her torch a moment to run her inhuman gaze along the flutes and grooves along the walls, "...Can you not hear it? ...Is it not beautiful?" Breathless words escaping her lips. The question purely rhetorical, prefering the girl not to waste her struggling breath on mere words right this moment.
"..Over a thousand years my Clan has lived here. Here we survived the ambitions of warlords and rivals alike.." Taking another step further in, passing the torch a little closer to the wall as her fingertips run along a set of grooves. Upon closer inspection one can begin to make out letters. An ancient dialect of the written word, barely legitable over time, "..The names of all my bloodline are enshrined here. From the lowest of Genin to the immortal Sannin.." Yet another step as she reviews a few more of those names. Her hand briefly caressing a particular one.. before turning her gaze back to the girl. Her expression.. very pleased.
"In another age I would be forced to kill you for seeing this. Some would say I dishonor the memory of my family for bringing you here.." She tilts her head a moment, weighing the very accusation as her eyes drift away, "..I do not believe so, however. No..."

Turning towards the cold dark once more as she begins her passage anew, "..No, you I believe would be an excellent exception." As the Devil leaves the train of thought at that, not particularly interested in explaining such a rationalization. At least .. not yet.

"We do not have far to go now, girl. The Hidden Village is not far now.."

When given the break, Hotaru rests the case against the step behind her, using the back of her legs to hold it in place as she allows her hands to rest. As the woman speaks, the younger girl closes her eyes, tuning out the throbbing sound of the blood pounding away in her body or the trembling ache in her muscles. And for a moment... the briefest of moments, the music whistling through the rocks resonates with her and sounds... no, feels beautiful. And it speaks to her.
It is the shock of that realization that causes her to open her eyes, shaking her head, dismissing it as quickly as possible. It must have been the passing delirium wrought by exhaustion. Nothing more.
She listens to the dark ninja, the relic from evil times, eyes straying over the glyphs in the rock, unable to make them out in the dancing shadows created by the torchlight. When she speaks of the depths of the secret, Hotaru blanches slightly. But at the same time there is that very reluctant, dangerous sting of pride at being singled out as an exception from any others. When she becomes consciously aware of it, Hotaru shivers, reaching behind her to grip the case again, wanting to push on so that the miserable aches in her body can put the other thoughts out of her mind. "Where did it all start?" asks the girl as the journey continues. "What... horrible thing happened such that your clan even existed? What great mistake?"

"Hmph." The Devil scoffs. Feet unerring upon the stone steps, often worn to a nearly slippery surface over time. A few cracked, but all of the loose stones have long since been swept away due to the constant, unending dark wind.
"Honor." A simple enough reason. If any one word would necessitate the existance of the Ninja, that would be it. "'The way of the warrior' we call it. Lapdogs of ambition, using that word to burn villages, allow chaos to reign and our country to fall into the hands of lesser men." Marise adds with a slow, accusatory tone. Dismissing the very concept of the Bushido with a singular laugh, "Self-righteous marauders saw fit to excuse their horrors with such a noble enterprise. It is the way of men to always recuse themselves of the blood their swords have wrought from the flesh of the weak."

The torch lifts a upwards a bit more, exposing a few lines of language along the ceiling long since worn away into unintelligibility. Forgotten wisdom of a damned people. But it matters little to the Devil, for she recants it by heart.
"'Death to those who think themselves righteous. Hide from the injust eyes of Heaven.'" The woman breathes, shaking her head slowly, "What great mistake? Heh. That is a question best asked of the Samurai and the holy Emperor. They are the ones who drove us to this.. long ago. Had we not found our own strength, our own ways. We would become slaves. Just like all peasants of our country. Beheaded for not bowing fast enough. Taxed until our backs were broken. No.. Our Clan came into existance for one purpose. To defeat the unjust laws of men and the Heavenly Court that guides it."

Hotaru is silent again as Marise explains, almost paying heed to her as one might a frightening teacher to whom she must answer to some day. Her eyes follow the torch light as it flickers across the dead language of the past, taking in the woman's account of history with a facination she would be ashamed to admit. A student of history in the shadow of one who /lived/ it, it's little wonder that even as Marise describes the types of the past, Hotaru pictures them.
She has nothing to say though, only able to ask and listen, not to counter or interject. If only those of the past could know the monster they were making... But even if they did know what they would someday have nurtured into existence... would that have stayed their hand? The girl hesitates a moment at the unusually pessimestic doubt before shaking her head to put it out of mind.
"Nn." The case is lugged onward, weary muscles refusing to give up. She has heard enough of history now, she believes. No more questions about the past.

A dark chuckle punctuates the Devil's lesson of the true history of Japan. The Ninja were indeed a reaction to the conquering Samurai, seeking refuge in their mountainous homelands and hidden villages. Practicing their ways which where to the Shinto, blasphemous at best. Of course, some embraced darker ways than others.

And as the light of the torch finally reveals this village, it becomes clear that these were the darkest of a secretive people.

Marise holds the torch high as she takes the final step, "Behold." Sweeping the flames high as the vastness of this underground cavern is revealed.

It is another world. A forgotten world only the likes of Jules Vern had ever attempted to describe. This underworld is easily the size of a small town, and more. The massive cave supported by a series of stalagmites and stalagtites, pillars supporting the weight of the mountain above that stretches as far as the flickering light will reach. The town itself seems like a throwback to another era. No modern convinences or technology of any sort here. Whole buildings crafted of wood and paper. Nestled amidst the titanic stone supports and even carved into the walls of the mountain itself. Hundreds must have lived here.. perhaps thousands. Most incredible of all is what lies just beyond the edge of the township proper, as it was built on the edge of an abyss. The source of the wind coming from below, from the pit itself. Spanning the entire length of the mountain.. perhaps the entire mountain range. It may well be the very faultline all of Japan resides upon, broken open like an ancient, ill-healed wound of the planet itself.
"The Hidden Village of Koga."

And here it is, nestled at the confluence of the plates that Japan itself rests upon - the village where all the dark secrets are held. When Marise lifts that torch, Hotaru is at her side in almost an insant, eyes sweeping over the town lost to history.
Her study of the sight begins with what is near - the buildings, looking every bit like a village that could have existed on the great Island's surface... perfectly preserved down here, hidden from all. But her eyes stray across the village, taking in the size of it, the girl's mouth slowly falling open with awe. She expected nothing like this. It isn't just a village but a city in size for the era it dates from. A dead, empty, forgotten one, but sizeable none the less.
And finally she notices the crevice on the far side. The trench of unknown, impossible depth. It is hard for her to wrest her eyes from the sight to look up to the woman at her side, but she eventually does, blinking slowly. "All of this... all this time... and no one knew." She looks back at the village then, shaking her head. "How long has it been? This hasn't had anyone living in it for... ten... twenty years at least. And the style of the buildings is even older than that." But Marise doesn't look old enough to fit with that chronology at all.
Were circumstances different she would wish to break form this woman's side to explore the historical relic that is the Village of Koga herself, ducking in and out of the old buildings, seeing what remnants remained. But this is no field trip, alas, and her feet remain grounded next to Marise as the seconds pass.

And there is more that may stay the girl's adventurous explorations as her feet bump up against something unexpected.
With a quick look down in the torchlight.. a skeleton lay strewn upon the smooth Earth. The clothing long rotten to a fine dust upon bones stripped of all flesh. Slain for decades or more, preserved only by this sterile, unliving environment where no predator or scavanger dwells.

One body of many, as the Devil silently strides forth. Not boasting or elaborating to the incredible nature of this man-made underworld. No.. Her thoughts are far away from that as she lowers her torch to display untold horrors. A holocaust that could only be described as the aftermath of Hell's judgement.

Many, many such bones are strewn about. Some fairly intact.. others not. The nature of their doom quite clear from the telling. Driven to mad violence.. one and all.

The truth of it, Marise had long suspected. But only now is it confirmed with her own eyes. The holy seal above had locked the villagers in. Unable to leave this place where nothing can live. Eventually.. their food rations had run out and starvation set in.. And madness shortly after that.

Skeletons sitting against walls, arm and leg bones strewn nearby with one yet clutched in its hands.. Larger skeletons holding smaller ones.. with all manner of weapons jutting from its skeletal corpse.

Every wave of the torch, a new horror. A new unspeakable. Every one of them murdered each other.. down to the last.

The Devil's expression is.. indescribable. Hardened eyes stare at what became of her family after her.. banishment. Lips pressed tightly into a line as the missing pieces of the story unfolds in her mind's eye. Fingers tremble as they tighten upon the torch, the corners of her eyes almost beginning to glisten.

%But only for a moment.

"...Come.." A harsh, rasping word is forced from Marise's lips. Tearing her gaze from the remains of her kinsman as she marches forth with determined purpose.

She Will Kill Them All. All Of Them.

Eyes so fixed on what was so far off, the girl is slow to notice the bones right at her feet. As if almost trusting the woman to point out dangers ahead, she hadn't been watching the very ground she walked upon with the caution one would probably be better off exhibiting in a cavern such as this. But then she begins to notice the smaller details in the townscape below.
At first dismissed as random debris, remnants of the life that existed here before, she begins to make out the details as her eyes become more accustomed to adjusting for the flickering shadows in the distance. Bones. Lots of them. It's with a soft gasp that Hotaru finally notices the skeelton before her very feet, eyes locking on the decayed, rotted clothing, steeling even more in her mind that something just isn't adding up with respect to a timeline she can make sense of.
As Marise calls for her to follow, Hotaru does so, hefting the case back into her hands and stepping... so very much more carefully now, along the path. She doesn't see the same thing in the bodies of the fallen Koga. Lacking the skills to discern the truth, she believes them to have all been slain by those who finally turned against them. Masters turned enemies, warlords trying to erase a grave error with wholescale slaughter.
The air is rank with the stench of death and decay. Not of rot, for that process ended decades ago. But dry, lifeless, emptiness. The girl closes her eyes, only to open them and find the horribel sight is still there. Try as she might, she will never get this vision out of her mind.
But she is a perceptive girl. She saw the tremble in Marise's hand at the sight. "Y-you... you weren't here when this happened, were you." comes the quiet comment. She ponders the seal above and how Marise could not get past it... She has been locked out of her home for so long... so long. If she knew the rage that burned within the cold, callus woman's black core, she would have held her tongue and allowed silence to reign between them.

The Devil's pace clearly has quickened. Agitation finally gotten the better of her usual poise and grace. Trying to quell her rage as much as she can, focusing that upsurge of emotion and channeling it into what needs to be done. It is, afterall, the secret of her strength. Hate is Strength. Hate is what bouys her spirit now, with all else lost to her. Hate and revenge.

But sometimes, even for someone such as her, emotions cannot be completely controlled.

The Devil whirls about. Looking to the girl as her eyes flash with raw fury, lips twisted into a monsterous snarl with too-sharp teeth on feral display. If Hotaru was not absolutely critical for what must come.. If she was ANYONE else.. she would have killed her where she stood. Her expression alone speaks that vow with more gravity than any uttered word.

For a long, long moment she holds that glare. Staring the smaller human down before finally turning away. Returning to her hurried gait as she leads them both through the maze of undercity streets. Filled with the bodies of the dead.
"My fate.. was different from theirs." The ghost growls out after a fashion, a concession to perhaps satisfy the girl's curiousity. For the sake of educating.. an urge to speak for the dead that overwelms her otherwise secretive nature, she does say this,
"I will not rest until all of those responsible for this.. All of them.. join my Clan in the pits of Hell. Take a hard look around you, Girl. THIS.." Waving her free hand abruptly to the side, still not pausing for even an instant in her quick march, "..This was done by 'holy men'. By the people who serve a corrupt and weak government.. By... By people who sleep at night so smug.. so secure that they were not as bad as we.. That we were the monsters.. and we deserved everything we got.."
Heh.
Stoping and turning to the girl once more, leaning down to stare her directly in the eye to speak words that will not go misunderstood. "Everyone. EVERYONE. Is a Monster. All of us."
Exhaling in a rush of emotion, tearing her gaze away as she promptly goes back to her storming procession. Offhandedly muttering just loud enough to be heard.
"..They only hated us... because we embrace the truth."

The differences between them are brought immediately back to the surface of Hotaru's thoughts as the woman turns on her, locking her in place with a glare that would send her retreating if she thought it would make the slightest difference in prolonging her life. She does recoil though, shirking backward under the burning glare, her first glimpse at the hatred that has burned deep beneath the cool, collected facade the woman has always reserved as her public face.
And she does realize that she crossed a line there - became too comfortable speaking with the woman, forgetting that her guide for this tour through hell bears her no good will whatsoever. She is slow to resume following as Marise turns away for a moment. But she doesn't stay planted for long before she realizes she's being left in a pitch black hole in the ground and that for all intents and purposes, she has really no choice but to keep close.
The poor girl has only just managed to catch up with the last of the Koga when she turns back upon her, leaning down so that their faces are so terrifyingly close together. The air around her seems to cool with the proximity, yet the blood within her boils, adrenaline at the renewed level of panic the woman induces making her feel hot inside.
She's wrong, Hotaru tells herself, as the woman turns away once more, gracing her with another blessed interruption from having to face that terrifying visage so closely again. Not everyone is a monster... That isn't possible. There's her mother... there's that nice priestess, Mizuki... there's the various kids she's met at the different schools... so many people she wouldn't think of as monsters. Such a hateful analysis of humanity she just can't possibly agree with.
But she's scared now. Too scared to utter a whisper of disagreement. Her last words brought the fury of the devil upon her, and she isn't about to risk incurring a repeat of that experience if she can help it.

The Devil speaks no more on that subject. It is, in her estimation, now entirely dealt with.
But then, down here in the under dark, one can begin to see how such a warped view of the world can take root and flourish. Here in the darkness with the winds of madness ever flowing from the abyss.

What kind of people would raise their children here?
Its clear, as the pair continue their trek through the winding village paths, that this was an encampment dedicated to training. Many buildings seem filled with training devices of all sort and description. Target dummies, weapons, obstical courses and what only could be described as strange geometric designs steeped in mysticism and oblique purpose.

The wicked guide passes by all these wonders without a second look. No, the woman is fixated on something in particular. A destination that seems to reside on the very edge of the abyss.

The main path empties into what seems to be a courtyard, built upon a jutting outcropping of rock that overlooks the vastness of oblivion below. At the furthest most edge .. an altar. With a wide pentagram etched into the very stone, encircled by several unknowable symbols and blasphemous scriptures. Each of the points of the star punctuated with stone statues, warped and decayed to forms of tall grotesque things the anatomy of which completely indescribable.

The wide courtyard seems spaced just enough for many to come and kneel before this graven idol in the stone..
..A place of worship?

As the two approach the deep trench, Hotaru's footfalls slow down. The wind feels different here now that she stands at the edge of its source, her hair lightly touselled as if by a living entity; purer, darker, its strength undiluted by the winding caves.
Stepping out onto the rock that projects over the black pit is clearly something the girl is loathe to do. And that's before she sets eyes on the altar. There is an audible gasp as she takes in the courtyard and the most important fixture thereof. Stopping in her tracks, she looks unwilling to take another step, eying the sinister construct with an expression of palpable dread.
Shaking her head slowly, Hotaru refuses to take another step if she can help it. Hands, exhausted and calmy with fear, grip the case handle with white knuckles. If the now shattered sealing stone atop was something that would keep Marise at bay, this assembly of profane sacrilege is enough to halt the younger girl's progress.

"At last.." The dark maiden whispers. Her pace slowing only here, as her hands come to rest upon the monolithic altar. Palms pressing against the stone, the surface polished clean by the unending winds which stir her bangs about her inhuman eyes. "..We have arrived. This.. is where your travels can truly begin.."
The Devil's tone still bares a fraction of the rancor she experienced moments ago.. But even that powerful emotion gives way to something else. Exhilaration.

Spinning on her feet she gestures to the girl, "Set the case down and kneel." Bidding her promptly as she quickly moves to the girl, kneeling across from her in turn as she deftly unlatches no less than five locks in the span of several seconds.
"There is only one way to commune with Lord Maou. Unlike lesser beings, his august personage does not sully himself with this lower world. No.." The Case parts open, revealing a whole host of things. A pure white kimono of silk, easily thousands of dollars in value. At a glance.. its clearly sized to fit a slim young girl, rather than a buxom woman such as herself. Along with a solemn box of polished wood and several smaller cases, vials, and all manner of bizzare arcane fixtures. Chalk crafted of silver powder. Enclosed glass vases of mushrooms and all manner of yet-living herbs. The scents and aromas erupting from the unsealed case is nothing short of dizzying.
"You must journey to the Court of Judgement.. in Makai."

Customary funerary wear? And now, the Devil speaks sincerely and without prevarication. Literally.. she intends to send the girl to Hell.

Hotaru stands silently as Marise approaches the altar at the edge of the chasm. Step by step through the winding cavern, all she had hoped for was for the grueling journey to end. But now comes the revelation that in truth, the sojourn from the far off dojo to this black pit was only the prelude of things to come.
What does she mean? How can her travels begin here? There's no where else to go unless she intends to fling the girl to an uncerimonious death into the trench between the plates. And if that is the case, then by now, Hotaru isn't sure that she wouldn't rather take that long plummet to an instant death over whatever else Marise might do with her.
When the order comes to open the case, young Futaba complies, at first feeling relief at having something else to fix her attention besides that infernal altar. Dropping to her knees, she rests the case on the ground, weary arms glad to be rid of the tiresome burden at last.
But then the case is opened and at long last she can see the nature of the heavy load she has carried this far. The first thing to capture her attention is the shimmering white of the exquisite kimono. She realizes in an instant that it is meant for her. And with dread facination, she starts to identify the other contents, if not by sight then by smell. All the components for a ritual of the damned.
And then Marise pronounces her fate and Hotaru freezes, paralyzed, her hands resting against her kneeling knees as she slowly breaks her gaze from the contents of the case to stare at the black kimono-clad creature.
"N-no...!" comes the stammer of protest and then suddenly she is on her feet again, turning around as if to flee, throwing away her resolve to see this through to the bitter end. But it is the wall of blackness behind her that prevents her flight. Beyond the light provided by Marise's torch, only the empty blackness awaits. Where would she run? She can't find her way through the winding caves on her own even /with/ a light.
And so she stands there, her back to the altar, the case, and Marise, with only vacant darkness before her. Slowly she lifts one hand to rest lightly just below the base of her neck.

The moment of complete, animalistic panic is most apt. Makai is never a place to frivolously venture.
After all, the vast majority who go there do not ever return.

Golden eyes follow the girl to her feet as she spins but holds her place, "It does not matter, girl." The Devil whispers, expression vaguely smug but perhaps closer to fatalistic as she adds plainly, "..You can stumble in the dark and perhaps hope against hope you could return home.. Perhaps you could find a cure for the girl, bouyed home by the wings of heavenly messengers. After all.."

The woman slowly lifts the shoulders of the prestine white cloth from the contents of the case, the glistening silk lovely even beneath the torch light, "You are dying." Eyes burrowing into her back, seeing through her in a way no others can, "Surely you must know that by now.. You must feel it in your heart."
A hand gestures forth, curled into a gentle fist, "Sooner. Or later. As the months continue.. your power will continue to grow out of control. Your spirit will simply burn.. itself.. out.." Fingers unfurling slowly as she waves outwards and away.

The slow sinking of Hotaru's shoulders are the first indication that she knows what the woman speaks is true. Were she to flee from here, what would that buy her? Who could explain what ailment affects her? What doctor of science could cure it? The affliction she suffers is beyond the scope of medicine or conventional cures. Of that she was already certain.
The girl bows her head as Marise continues before finally turning around to face the woman again, tears rolling down her cheeks as she realizes that everything in her existence has conspired to bring her to this moment. The fate of a young girl suffering from deadly poison... only Marise can provide the cure. Her body... gradually falling apart from the forces within herself. Only Marise has ever offered anything resembling hope in a remedy.
Everything has brought her to this altar, this doorway on the threshold of Makai. Her eyes fixate on the woman's hand as she waves it away then come to rest on the exquisite kimono - funeral clothing fit for a princess. It is a portend of what lies ahead of her even if she were to flee. The Devil is right and she is trapped here, a fly in the web so carefully spun by the events and circumstances of her comperatively short life.
"Yes," comes the soft admission, her tone heavy with resignation. Unconsciously, she lifts her hand to grip her opposite forearm - that forearm she so often of late has bathed with the blue power she has struggled to control for all of her life. "I don't have any choice. Even if you have lied to me about the promise of a cure... I-I don't know what else to do anyway." Them's the breaks. Sometimes all one can do is look at the options, weigh the odds of success, and go with the only choice that offers even the slightest prayer of hope. And right now, that choice is to comply with this woman's wishes.

"Good." The dark woman croons, leaning closer as she reaches forth a hand to touch the young girl's cheek. "Do not despair, child." While her words are engineered to comfort, The Devil's sinister tone does nothing to assuade the dire news of the girl's eventual demise. What hope is there, afterall, if it can only be found in the pits of Hell?
"This is the hour where your life will be made clear. You will come to understand yourself, your purpose on this Earth, more than you ever have before."

Releasing the girl as Marise then turns her attention to the case, lifting a pair of vials and a stick of silvered chalk, "I will ready the ritual.. Prepare yourself. I will assist you in dressing in a moment.."
To properly wear a Kimono, one of this calibur, does require assistance. But in the meantime, the girl can strip down and make herself ready for...
Courage is her only hope now.


Time passes.

The girl has long since lost track of time.. but she can only pray that the journey so far has only taken ten to twelve hours at most.. If there is any hope in returning with enough time to save the girl from an unjust fate. And if these preperations are any indication.. this second sojourn may be even more lengthly and exausting than ascending and descending the mountain itself.

The Devil carefully helped the girl into the robes with all the proper care of a handmaiden assisting a young princess into her garments to hold court. Youthful hair removed from their pigtails and properly arranged in a style becoming of a young courtier. Candles burn now all throughout the circle. Illuminating the ritual site with somewhat more clarity than the single torch. The ghost had carefully gone over every last inch of this place, blessing and offering tribute with careful, clinical movements without fail or trepidation. The songs sung, the dark spirits thanked and pacified. All made ready with the attentiveness of any priestess.

Now.. Hotaru finds herself kneeling in the middle of the circle. The Devil behind her, tying her oba very carefully behind her and fussing over every last detail of her silken clothes.
"Feel privledged, girl. Even amongst my people this is a rare honor. Very few are found worthy to commune with Lord Maou. I, myself, undertook this same journey when I was your age. I too studied at the feet of the great master.. and he taught me many secrets.."
The silken band sinched at the girl's waist with a tug of finality, "...In return for just sacrifice.. of course."

The clothing of her previous life discarded in favor of the rich, Hotaru has been lead through the preparation process in almost a state of auto-pilot. Silent, no longer asking questions, no longer studying everything happening around her with that youthful attentiveness she had exhibited during the early hours of the journey.
In another place, another time, dressing up in such a traditional outfit from mostly bygone times would be something she would relish with that passion for the past she has always held. But now she kneels, watching Marise with detached indifference, as if the woman were merely putting on an interesting stage show rather than meticulously appealing to countless dark spirits and purveyers of evil aid. As her hair is released from the ribbons that held it in place, she remains still. The only difference between her and a mannequin at this point would be the lifelike way her head moves slightly as her hair is done up in an elaborate, regal style by Marise's able hands.
And then it comes time to finalize her own attire, kneeling in the circle as instructed, breaths coming slowly, almost deceptively sounding relaxed were it not for the way her muscles are so tense to almost be at the point of trembling.
"W-what am I to do?" comes the frightened whisper, blue eyes staring at nothing as she kneads her fingers nervously in her lap. "What should I say? Why are you having me do this? What will you gain from it?" As the oba is tightened, the flood of questions come as final moments approach.

The ghost finishes preparing the child, rising to her feet as she slowly circles the girl. Admiring her own handiwork in addition to the girl's own princess-like beauty. The edge of her lips quirking into a rueful smile, shaking her head once before turning to face her mostly-emptied case now. Save for the one, final object that had remained undisturbed until now.

The wooden box is lifted carefully, almost reverently. The finish gleams in the abundant candlelight, seemingly carved from a single piece of wood.
"My Clan has perfected a method to send our spirits to Makai and return." Walking back slowly to the girl, carefully kneeling down before her and setting the box upon her lap. Golden eyes looking deeply into the girl's own, attempting to claim her attention and direct her voided stare. "Listen to me now. What I am about to tell you is the only thing that will allow you to survive this pilgrimmage. Focus on what I am saying here and now."

Seeing fit to say those words and give the girl proper warning, she then continues, "Only spirits may travel to Makai. And so, a spirit you must become." Holding the box to eye level. With a deft twist, the box partly unfolds to reveal a space along a surface. Just enough to fit a human hand through, "For the duration of a single heartbeat, you will be amongst the dead. Makai is a reflection of our own world.." Tilting her head once, "..Or perhaps we are a dim reflection of Makai. In either event, the world will be vaguely as you remember it.. But mostly not."
Letting that sink in a moment, the Devil continues, "Time passes differently in the underworld. While only a single moment will pass in our world.. a heartbeat lasts for three days in Makai. You will not grow tired, you will neither hunger nor thirst. For the duration, you will be as one of the newly ordained dead. This will give you just enough time to journey to the capital of Makai, where Lord Maou resides in his castle. Within which, you will hold audience."
Eyes drifting a bit distantly a moment, the woman continues, "I have arranged for a guide when you reach the other side. They will show you the way. They will also inform you of all that you need to know once you reach the Court of Judgement."

As for what she gets out of it? ... The Devil merely smiles. A secretive, almost mischevious expression.. If it was not so utterly sinister, "That would be telling. Suffice it to say, Lord Maou will have the answeers.. For us all."

When Marise kneels in front of her, Hotaru's focus is finally directed back toward her, blue eyes locking into those yellow irises looking back at her. She swallows, taking in the words, etching them into her mind, giving them the weight they deserve. She nods slightly, breathing in and holding her breath as the woman continues to address her.
Then she is to die after all in ever sense of the word. The only difference between this death and the one through which all mortals must pass someday would be the duration of her stay. An instant - a heartbeat of her lifespan spent on the other side of the veil. Yet time enough to complete Marise's purpose for her.
As the box is twisted open, Hotaru's eyes shift to focusing on it, studying the surface, lifting her hand slowly, so very slowly as intending to reach out and touch it but quite reluctant to actually do so. The promise of a guide through this next stage is unusually comforting coming from this woman and Hotaru nods slightly again, eyes studying the Devil's face as if trying to detect any last traces of deceit in her words. Perceptive compared to most, it's dubious that even she would be able to see through any mask Marise would have her see, however.
"Fine," the soon to be dead princess replies as the last Koga refuses to share her little secret. Probably the greatest secret of them all. What she wants?

The Devil is clearly filled with deceit. Nothing in her expression insinuates trustworthiness, faked or otherwise. The woman is a murderer, torturer, sadistic, cruel and Gods know what else. Moreover, this woman knows precisely what she is.. And would not have it any other way.
There is more to this than Marise is saying, that much the girl can intuitively comprehend. A fact that the woman is not even trying to hide, as she has long-since placed her careful mask to the side. Unlike her comrade Elle, The Devil embraces her emotions. She feels every flavor of sensation life has to offer. It is only her body, that seems to share the dispassionate qualities of the dead.

The girl, ultimately must ask herself, what choice she has? Could she turn back? Is it too late or can she perhaps race for the exit and explore yet another way, hope against hope?
Or perhaps, the only way to salvation.. is to see this through.
"Once you put your hand in this box.. The ritual will begin. No matter what happens.. or what you feel.. You must hold still. Should you move from the center of the sigil... You will be dead for far, far longer than a heartbeat." The Devil states in no uncertain terms, as she holds the ominous vessel aloft. The contents seem utterly dark and unknowable through the slender openning..

It is.. The moment of no return.

Slowly she wrests her eyes from the face of the Devil to stare at the box itself, her expression hardened now. There's fear in her eyes, but also determination, resolution. If there was a time to make a choice, she's already made it, for now Hotaru looks ready for action.
Her breaths come faster as she approaches the moment where truth and lie no longer matter. If Marise has deceived her into this, then she shall have her victory in this moment as the girl reaches for the box. If instead her words ring with truth, then Hotaru is about to find out. The reality probably lies somewhere in the middle, but that remains to be seen.
When she reaches her hand toward the surface, there is a tremble in the limb and in her fingers, her silken white sleeve slipping down to expose more of her thin yet strong forearm. She hesitates for a long moment, so very close, blue eyes staring into the hole with one final moment of internal conflict, as if trying to discern its dubious contents before reaching within.
Finally she closes her eyes, eyelids shutting, hiding the fateful box from her view, a deep breath taken, and at last her slender hand moves, slipping into the mouth of the vessel.

The dark portal reveals preciously little of the interior. While the openning is of modest width compared to the girl's hand, that speaks more of her diminutive stature than the relative width of the hole. The polished surfaces give no hint of what manner of fate lies in store, but then.. As per Marise's admission, there is only one thing that could rest within it.

Certain death.

As the girl's shaking hand slowly enters the device, the only warning she recieves of what is about to come.. Is a startled hiss. The sharp, needling pain of a bite occurs so quickly the girl does not know precisely what struck her until her hand fully recoils, twin bleeding pin-pricks between thumb and index finger confirm what the shocking sensation was in truth.

With a sudden flourish, The Devil opens the box fully. Twisting the device open to hold the bottom half of the case like a tray.. a black snake coiled and hissing defensively, a caged animal striking out at what it mistakenly believed to be its tormentor.
It is true that the girl has a way with animals, under normal circumstances such beasts of the Earth would not willingly harm her. An unspoken pact exists between she and the lower kingdoms. But this creature is crazed.. driven lunatic by rituals and a diet of herbs and chemicals to alter its toxin from something fully deadly.. To only briefly deadly.

The Devil wastes no further time as the decision is made and the die is cast. Moving with certainty of purpose, like an arrow sprung from the bow, the dark maiden reaches into the box and withdraws the creature. Clutching beneath its head forcefully as she begins to chant..
The words.. are in another language perhaps. A meaningless string of syllables that do not sound native... and yet strangely familiar. It could only be the language of Devils itself, whispered pleas and oaths in a bid to allow this child proper travel to the world beyond.

The girl begins to feel dizzy, the pain slowly traveling up her arm as the neurotoxin forces her muscles to convulse at once. A frightening sensation as control over her own body begins to leave her inch by inch, her soul in the process of being evicted from her soon-to-be corpse.
In a grotesque, abrupt moment.. the Serpent completes its purpose in the ritual as the Devil's thumb flicks forth. The razored nail easily cleaving the creatures head from it's neck with only a soft snap of the vertebrae to mark its passing. A small sacrifice to appease the God of Death for this transaction to occur, marking the girl for her journey as the Devil begins to -write- on her. Using the yet-wriggling beheaded serpent as a form of quill, its warm blood the ink, Marise quickly marks the youth. Annointing her brow and quickly inscribing several unknowable elder words along her neck, shoulders and arms.. And down over her heart. All the while chanting, paying proper homage to the dark spirits..
..As the world continues to slip away. Vision growing distant.. the world becoming heavier.. Hotaru feeling as if she's beginning to fall into herself.. and further..

When she feels the sharp sting of a serpent's bite, Hotaru leaves her hand in the box for a long moment, eyes widening a little from the pain, but clouded with uncertainty as to what might happen if she withdraws her pricked apendage. As Marise moves the box, however, the girl does withdraw her hand, those same blue eyes coming to rest on the pin-drop blood pools forming in the soft tissue between her fingers before looking at the black snake with an expression that almost seems to indicate a confused sense of betrayal. Has an animal ever done her harm in her life before this very moment?
She feels the tingling along her arm at first, nerves being shut off by a swift moving toxin. Her muscles react in turn, her hand twitching, then clenching tightly shut. She can feel the flow of the poison move through her at first, but before long she is unable to even feel so precisely. Clutching her arms over her stomach, hugging them against her, she begins to lean forward a little, the dizziness making her sick to her stomach. She hasn't eaten at all the entire day, so the only sign of the sickness that fills her is a single dry heave before the dark ninja begins to inscribe unknown words upon her.
Her eyes come to rest upon Marise, filled with terror at first, but her focus becomes more distant before long, as if she is staring right through the woman as she clutches one hand over her heart, fingers tightening. This is nothing like she had expected. The wracking pain, the sense of being ripped apart. She had expected to merely be put to sleep and enjoy the calm, dignified repose of the peacefully deceased. Not to die like this - betrayed by the lowly serpent driven mad before his own demise. Just another severed life left behind in the bloody footsteps of the Devil of Koga. "Such... darkness..." she murmurs. "So... cold." Hotaru's voice trembles, barely a whisper, before her body cascades down the final, irreversible path to death.

Death can take many forms. Sometimes a serene, calm transition. Like the end of a long, prosperous life upon one's deathbed surrounded by loved ones.
The Journey to Hell, however, is rarely so passive.

Perhaps the Devil would offer words of comfort to the girl, or some line of triumphant wit. However, in truth, she is doing what she can to ensure the process goes smoothly. Which, in the height of irony, is a comfort of its own.

Beat.
The young warrior can feel the world's sensations condense to the simple beating of her heart. The sound echoing from her chest, pushing life throughout her weakening body. The very essense of life.
Beat.
What little light the candles give begins to fade out one after the other, a blackness creeps in at the edges of her vision. Removing Marise's chanting form from view until only a pale haze remains.
..Beat..
The sensation of her limbs fades, leaving a strange weightlessness in its wake. Consciousness trapped in a slow fall, pulled under by an inexorable force that all things must eventually feel.
...Beat...
Only now the blackness remains. No sounds of the world reach her ears, nor the touch of cold stone beneath her.. or even the pain of the venom within her. Only the last sound now.. of..
..Be-


Hotaru awakens.
Eyes openning unbidden, startling awake from an uncomfortable dream she was just having. The first sensation that greets her.. Is the light. A bright, full, wonderful light. As strong and vibrant as a warm summer's day. The touch of soft grass is unmistakable beneath her body, having toppled over while ... what was she doing?
With a moment or two of puzzled glances.. she finds herself in a village. A very familiar village, on a familiar outcropping of rock overlooking a vast.. vast chasm. The village is a tropical paradise. The sounds of birds can be heard trilling sweetly, butterflies fluttering throughout the crisp, clean atmosphere. And the light?
Comes from the abyss below. The warmth.. the vital essense of the world flows from below. Pouring upwards as if the sun itself resides beneath the 'world'.. The flipside of what she remembers the world should be.. The breeze here, cool and gentle, flows downwards as well. Pouring from around the massive, beautiful cavern and flowing downwards into the light beyond..

Everything before was just a dream. That's the first sensation Hotaru has as she awakens to a bright world filled with life, warmth, vitality. Surely the nightmare has ended and life has resumed. The darkness, the pain, the horror... all becoming obscured by fog in her mind as dreams are wont to do upon being freshly interrupted by the cleansing light of day.
Sitting up, she finds herself in the field of grass. How she ended up there is of little importance at first. Only that she is there, and that it is better than where she was. She glances around at her surroundings, taking them in with silence. The village is observed - and then the cave itself, the first indication that everything is not as normal as she had thought upon awakening.
There is confusion, however. For as her eyes come to rest upon the crevice and the outpouring of light eminating from it, she can't help but feel that everything is as it is supposed to be, even though she has never seen anything like it before. But surely the sun isn't supposed to be down there. How is it that it manifests itself as such? And why does this all look familiar...
From the dream, of course. It looks like what she was dreaming about before... maybe she is still dreaming? Experiencing the awkward sensation of dreaming of having awoken from another dream? Rolling over onto her knees, she begins to crawl over to the edge of the abyss, intending to peek cautiously over its side, her mind reeling at trying to make sense of the conflicts and uncertainties that fill it. "Maybe I have yet to wake up..." she muses out loud, not afraid to talk to herself as she appears to be completely alone.

Beyond the lip of the crevasse.. is the sky. The clouds can be seen distantly towards the 'top', flowing amongst the endlessly brilliant blue. The sun itself glows with brilliant, life-giving warmth. Just as it.. should be?

"Miss Futaba?"
A feminine voice calls out. A voice that cleaves through the fog of poor recall like a sword, bringing with it a host of terrible memories that flood back to the fore.
Darkness, Pain, Terror.. Death..

"..Are you well?" The woman continues, and should the girl turn about from peering over the sky below.. She will see a familiar face. Far too familiar.
The tall woman stands serenely, Her white kimono not unlike Hotaru's own. Save arranged in a much more lowly manner, the station of a concubine for those aware of such hair and kimono styles. Very beautiful with healthy skin, dark hair and a beauty mark gracing her right cheek.
Marise..
Lips curled into a genuine, sincere smile. What could throw the girl off the most, would be those eyes. So unlike the monster she knew.. A rich violet color. The polar opposite of those inhuman yellow things.. A sister perhaps? An identical twin? Or..
"Please, do not be frightened. You are quite safe here."

Looking down into the sky causes the girl to feel dizzy for a moment. Were it not for the cautious way she had crawled to the edge, she would have been at risk for toppling right over, thus falling toward the sun? Just trying to imagine it is nearly disorienting enough.
Then comes the voice of another and everything comes back to the girl. With clarity she recalls the trip through the cave, the girl poisoned at the dojo, the altar of the damned... All of it comes back in an instant. And with it, panic.
Hotaru rolls over swiftly, still lying on the ground, now seated, her hands propping her up as she gasps. Eyes, wide with fright, focus on the... humble visage of one that is supposed to be a demon... "M-Mar-..." No, that's impossible. For all the way she looks identical, she also looks completely unlike the black kimono-clad woman. "Who are you?" comes the question as she slowly scoots, crab-style, away from the edge of the abyss, putting distance between herself and the brightly shining trench before pushing herself back up to her feet.
She remembers where she is now. The how, the why. Even if so far, none of it is as she had expected. "And how did you know to find me here?"

The new, old acquaintance lifts a hand cautiously. Eyes wide with concern as she adds, "Please be careful!" Not wanting her to topple over the edge in fright. Breathing in a bit of relief as the girl skitters away from the edge as she smiles once more, replacing her hand beneath her throat. "Ah. Please excuse me."
The woman formally bows to the living dead girl, "This humble one was once known as Marise of Koga."
Straightening then as the spirit folds her hands together, long-sleeves connecting before her waist, "My esteemed counterpart informed this servant that miss Futaba would be arriving at this time. She has told me much about you, we are pleased to make your acquaintance." Bowing once more to punctuate the sincerity of those words.

Now that the girl has had a chance to better soak in her surroundings, she'll begin to notice other differences.. They are clearly not alone here.
The town is a thriving community. People can be seen milling about the streets, villagers wearing traditional clothing of peasant villagers from older times. Women gossiping and walking to market, men minding their crafts and carrying their wares. Hundreds of them.. Where there was death and holocaust..
In Makai, it is paradise..

It's an impossible amount to take in, really, so one might not be surprised at the way Hotaru stares silently at the young woman for a long... long time. She only becomes aware of the existence of yet others so very gradually, looking past the one sent to greet her to notice the village teaming with life. "I don't understand," comes the honest admission eventually. "How is it that you are here... you didn't die." The question comes quietly, as if rhetorical, not really intended for the ears of the other. "Unless... unless a part of you did. Or-"
Hotaru seems lost in thought, blue eyes unfocused on anything as she tries to figure something out. She ponders the ability of Marise to disguise herself, as she already so proficiently demonstrated by taking her own appearance to put in motion her machinatins that brought the girl here.
"Unless I have yet to ever truly know her face," the new arrival muses to herself with a frown. She focuses back on the young woman next, having managed to compose herself over the course of the minute or longer she spent thinking. "If you know who I am, then you know of why I am here as well, yes?" This question, unlike the prior musings, is clearly intended for the one who claims the name Marise in spite all Hotaru would expect to the contrary.
"I don't have a lot of time... a life hangs in the balance."

"Forgive this humble one's impertinence.." Marise inclines her head with something of a rueful smile, "However, the souls of all who visit the Court of Judgement always hang in the balance."
The spirit guide does half-turn towards the village, patient yet agreeing with sentiment of haste for an entirely different reason, "There is, however, little time as Miss Futaba astutely put it. The journey to Kyoto will take nearly the entirity of three days. Time is short."

As far as the earlier comments about the impossibility of there being such a similar looking woman in the depths of Hell, or the possibility of there being deception.. the woman's smile fades a fraction. Violet gaze drifting away a moment, perhaps in shame.. "This.. servant will have plenty of opportunity to explain.. on the way."

As the pair then venture forth into the village, curiously none of the denizens seem to approach the new arrival. None looks in Hotaru's direction, but always moving out of her way or bowing when along the path. Never questioning, but always polite and courteous.
Could such a stately ensemble have fooled these people into thinking Hotaru truly is some manner of princess from a far off land? Having flown up from Heaven itself to walk amongst them?

Further, more and more of the girl's condition becomes noticable. Afterall, one never pauses to check for one's own heartbeat half of the time. But.. perhaps expectedly.. No sound stirs within her chest. Nor does the girl seem to need to breath.. Only subconsciously filling her lungs when feeling the urge to speak. However.. the largest surprise comes entirely by accident.

The pair pass by an errand boy, having set down a long pole with two wooden pales of water balanced on either end. The youth having taken one to pour into a local matron's basin indoors. An absent look into the rippling contents by the passing princess is enough to give her pause and look again..

The young girl's skin? Bleach white.. a perfect ivory, like the Devil's own in the waking world. Her eyes? The color of flame. A rich orange with crimson highlights for irises, with black-slitted pupils. The color inverse of her natural cobalt blue.

Three days to make the trip. Whatever it is that passes for a day here, anyway. That's not much more than the time she has, Hotaru realizes, as all of the words the devilish Marise she has always known come back to her, to the last iota. "Yes... in that case, explanations will have to wait for now," states the elegantly dressed newly dead, almost sounding commanding in her tone, as if her appearance here is more than just skin deep.
She becomes aware of her condition piece by piece. The lack of reliance upon oxygen to function is... oddly liberating, as if to taste for a moment immortality, no longer subject to the confines of flesh and blood. She isn't uncomfortable with that change in the slightest, it would seem.
It is the reflection of her visage in the rippling water that finally gives her pause, however. The face looking back at her reminds her of the woman who sent her here. Those eyes - inhuman slits for pupils set in the midst of pools of unnaturally vibrant color. Is she getting a glimpse at what makes them look that way, perhaps? What /are/ the ramifications of what she is going through... treading a path that the Devil of Koga once travelled before her, by her own admissions.
Hotaru doesn't pause for long though, as curious as she is, the mission at hand compells her to not slow down no matter what she wishes she could stop and inquire of the villagers more. Ask them their stories, their tales. Understand more about this backwards version of the world she used to think she knew so well. "There is a lot I don't understand. Only that I am to go to the Court of Judgement..."

"A good beginning." The gentle woman states calmly at the girl's own admission of ignorance. It is said that the true path of enlightenment, is realizing how little one really knows.
It is unfortunate in a way. Should the girl's mission come to a success and she lives her life in the way she most hopes.. She will never see this village again for all eternity. Are these the true Koga villagers? Their souls having come to rest here on the shores of Hell? Or some other manner of otherworld petitioner, meandering about in the catacombs closest to the living worlds below.. Perhaps the pilgrim will never know the truth.

"This humble servant has been instructed to bring Miss Futaba to the Court of Judgement in the halls of the great master. Where, Miss Futaba can be made whole and brought into balance. Should Miss Futaba's sacrifice appease my great Lord." The tall woman continues to set the pace, and a quick one it is. Several steps more leads them both through the streets of the Hidden village and once more into winding tunnel leading upwards. This time.. the music playing throughout the naturally-carved walls and ceiling is peaceful. Soothing.. beautiful. A melody of clarity and calmness as the wind continously blows upwards on down.. flowing through the passage from the world above and into the chasm beyond.

Thankfully, without a constitution of vitality to maintain, the trek upon the winding stairs will be vastly easier then doing so amongst the living. Even if the steps continue to be.. monotonous.

At least, this part of the journey is much the same as the girl remembers it from the real world.
The tunnel winds upwards from the depths, carved by the unnatural environment over time.. The rock bare and smooth. Much better kept and weathering the ages quite well. No loosened steps or slippery surfaces jeopardizes the pair's progress. Without a heavy burden or a living constitution... the endless tedium of climbing is the only adversary now.

This.. Different Marise does not initiate conversation all the while. Perhaps in defferance to the girl's recent plight. She has had an awful lot to process, afterall. An awful lot to consider. This quiet moment may well be the last she experiences once she reaches whatever passes for a 'surface' here..

One thing is for certain. It seems to get.. darker the higher they go. The ambient light dims a fraction at a time. The chilling breeze flowing from the surface grows colder and more umcomfortable.. The pair have begun to depart the succor of the undersun.. leaving them to whatever fell environment Makai truly is..

Higher and higher they traverse. Hotaru leads the way, pushing herself to move quickly. Finding that the effort doesn't wear her out no matter how long the stairs climb on, she would switch to a run or jogging gait to pick up the speed were her attire so poorly suited for such mundane methods of travel.
She doesn't miss the growing darkness as they gain altitude within the mountain. At some points she pauses, glancing over her shoulder to look back down the tunnel as if to compare the diminishing light and confirm the gradual but certain change for herself. "All those people were of the Koga?" comes the question eventually. They seemed remarkably content for a populace that worshipped at the altar of damnation deep beneath the real earth's crust.
As the tunnel bends around toward what she remembers being a curve not far from the surface, her pace slows. While she started out eager way back down at the base of it, the reluctance that begins to set in is impossible to miss. Folding her sleeve covered arms in front of herself, she glances back at Marise, a questioning look in her eyes, "I... what is up there?" she asks, looking back up the winding cave before taking a hesitant step forward and resuming the climb, only slower now.

"Yes." The pale woman answers directly, if sympathetic to the girl's confusion. The escort's pace is completely unhurried. Often trailing several long paces behind the girl as she meanders her way upwards. While not being purposefully slow, she clearly has a different concept of 'rush'. Afterall, when one is an immortal spirit.. why does one ever need haste? She is, however, attempting to acclimate herself to the feverishly busied pace of the visiting princess.
"It is the resting place of our Clan. For our service in life to the great lord, my people have been rewarded by settling on the very edge of the world we most remember. It is.. a high gift."

As the girl trepidly pauses at the last turn.. The woman finally catches up to her. Placing her hands lightly on the girl's shoulders, a comforting gesture. Simply murmuring, "Makai."
With another few steps, she gently guides the girl onwards. Standing with her as the vast vista of the landscape beyond the open, cavernous double-doors come into view.


So ... this is Hell.
The mountainside is roughly the shape of what she remembers.. but the similarities end there. The world is.. unilluminated for a lack of a better term. Detailed by the varying degrees of absense of light. The sky above is a vast.. vast swirling vortex. The vastness of the netherworld's sky is dizzying to comprehend even as the girl stares upon it. A tremendous maelstrom of entropy, eating away at the light of existance and terminating in a single point of annihilation.
Antihelios, the maw of oblivion. Whereas the Sun is ultimately the source of all life in the living world.. This is the source of all uncreation at the apex of the flipside of the universe.

The dark mountainsides are covered with trees, their gnarled roots clawing upwards without a speck of green. The unforests alive with spikes and twisted claws..
The only traditional source of illumination that can be found here.. is what serves as 'water'. The peaks of the mountains are coated with ash. The grey caps beautiful in their own way. WHat was a mountain lake in the living world.. a pool of luminous magma. Pouring in a river of fire down the mountainside...

The vast orange haze on the far horizon must be.. The ocean.

TUnlike the solemnity of the hidden village.. There is life here, such as it is. Sounds can be heard of beasts not completely unlike their counterparts in the living world, but certainly not the same.

If Hotaru survives this.. if she lives a good, clean life as she has always endeavored to. She will never see this again.

"Indeed," Hotaru whispers in reply. A high gift indeed. It shakes the foundation of everything she has ever thought about the life after. But her religious instruction was sparse and somewhat confused so she hardly suffers a crisis of faith by what she's seen or been told but merely forces her to reconsider certain ideas she had formed on her own.
It's hard to say how long she would have stood still were it not for the hands of Marise that come to rest on her shoulders. Finding the woman's touch manages to comfort where the world no longer does, young Futaba begins to walk again, at long last stepping out through the doors. She is silent as she takes in the landscape and the impossible sky above, squinting at times to make out shapes in the otherwise very dark environment.
After a while, she becomes fixated on the swirling vortex of undoing in the firmament above, her mind becoming lost in the fracturing of matter into nothingness. It's entrancing in a way - the inevitability of it all. The continuous, unquenchable process of disassembling creation, a power impossible to comprehend. Were it not for her legs becoming weak enough to cause her to half stumble forward a step, she might have stared upward indefinitly.
Shaking her head, Hotaru brings her attention back to the surface ahead of her. A hand comes up to rest against her pale cheek, glad that she has no need to breath for the air is thick with ash that would be suffocating in the world of the living. The sound of creatures unknown cause her to look in specific directions from time to time as if trying to make out their origins, but eventually she closes her eyes, bowing her head, lowering the hand from her cheek to clench into a fist at her side, "Where to from here?" comes the question. She must not be deterred. If passing through Hell is what is required of her, then...

The guide does indeed hold the girl's shoulders firmly. Keeping her from toppling at the first brush with the prisonworld of Heaven. The woman herself seems.. resigned to it. Looking out amongst the mountainsides with eyes not yet fully jaded to the granduer of this place. It is magnificent.. in a way. As much evidence of the Divine Will as the beauty of the living world. But this side of that will is much different. Whereas the lands 'beneath' were forged in love and compassion.. These serve a much.. much different purpose.
"Please Miss Futaba, do not stare at it for long.." The woman suddenly urges, finally taking note of just how long the girl stares at the annihilator and gives her shoulders a firm shake, "It can blind you. As assuredly as the Sun can in the world of the living."
Indeed, it takes a few moments for the girl to blink away the spots in her vision. Tiny stars of entropy, eating away at the core of her vision like lingering black smudges from that the AllDark. Thankfully, the minor inconvinence passes.. but if one stares transfixed for too long, perhaps they could lose more than just their vision.
It is.. calling in a way. Sweetly seductive.. The end of all pain. All turmoil. To simply let the stygian radiance take her and end all concerns of existance.

"The Unholy City lies there.." The woman steps before the girl and points clearly. Down the mountains and to the southeast. The hell-glow along the horizon gives definition to the landscape beyond. Tiny clusters of lights can be seen here and there.. Representing whatever passes for civilization in this backward land. "..Where the city you know as Kyoto resides. Come.. Miss Futaba. We must not delay long."
The spirit guide continues holding the girl's shoulder with her off-hand for a moment longer, making certain she's regained her senses and balance. Only then does she refold her hands within her sleeves and begins to walk. The ground beneath their feet crunching faintly with smoothed volcanic pebbles and small stalks of fungus, the only thing that will grow in volume on this broken UnEarth.

She brings her hand up to rub at her eyes for a moment, leaving them closed at first. Finally she opens them, only to squint again, clearly unsettled by the gaps that hang in her vision for a long while before fading away. Swallowing, an unnecessary nervous reaction, Hotaru nods, her eyes following the direction pointed out. She speaks nothing of the unsettling experience she just went through, though Marise would probably know of it already.
"Yes," she agrees. They mustn't delay long. A three day walk she had warned and the girl shakes her head slowly with quiet worry. It is impossible for her to feel the passage of time here. Every breathless minute is the same as the last. How long did it take to reach the surface? She muses silently as she wonders as to the amount of time remaining.
"Kyoto," she comments after a moment, already willing her feet to resume stepping forward, one foot coming down to scatter a clump of ash that had come to rest against a smooth rock. Glancing up as the charred debris take to the air, her vision follows all the way out to the burning horizon in the distance. Kyoto rests closer to the 'ocean' than here. No doubt she'll be getting a better look at the sea of fire as the journey continues.
"Who /are/ you?" comes the question again. She had asked the woman before at the very beginning and received a partial answer. But the girl is not satisfied with that. How can her guide be Marise when it was that is the very one who sent her here? "I already know of Marise. It's because of her that I'm even here," she states as if to preempt the same non-answer from being provided a second time.

At first brush.. it would seem the mountain-side forest they walk through is quite dead. The sprawling, gnarled limbs without leaf or green upon them. On close inspection, its clear that they are in fact quite alive. ..Or whatever passes for life in this netherworld. The limbs are simply the root-like structures. Drawing nourishment from the ambient non-atmosphere of this place in an inconcievable necrological process. It seems.. amongst the lands of the dead, there is an ecosystem. A structure and way for things to exist, as opposed to a chaotic morass of nothingness. Occasionally, glimpses of small crimson eyes can be seen amongst the roots above. Nesting crows and ravens.. watching the progress of the pair mutely.

As the girl once again asks the question, the pale woman is given pause. Uncertain how best to answer.. Not particularly wanting to be evasive on the subject but.. It is a difficult thing. Rather than giving another non-answer.. The woman speaks simply, "What you know in the living world is.. We.."
The kind maiden does not turn, always keeping her pace. But her tone alone suggests how her expression changes as her head bows a fraction,
"As you must know... Power comes with sacrifice. As it is in the world of mortals, the Heavens and Hells.. There is a balance to everything. To become truly great.. means you must part with something most precious." Her head tilts just a fraction, enough to glance at Hotaru in the corner of her violet-colored vision before looking ahead once more, "I took this very pilgrimmage when I was your age. Many years ago. I desired great.. terrible power. And its price was .... Me."
"I am what I sacrificed. I am the higher soul of Marise of Koga. What the taoists would call.. the Yang of our being. We cleaved our soul in twain and now I serve as concubine to Lord Maou. While my.. other half endures in the world of the living."

She studies everything as she goes but it's questionable how much she understands of the twisted ecosystem of the world she really should have never known were it not for the unusual events that had played out in her life. But Hotaru listens to her guide, however, the truth... that disturbing truth coming out in the end. Were it possible to grow pale with her bloodless body, she would, but for all the nervousness the explanation causes, she remains the same sheet white she was from the outside.
Who could pay a price like that? How could she be told the cost and then chose to make the sacrifice with that knowledge. "W-what kind of power is worth that?" she stammers incredulously. "What reward could merit such a dreadful payment?" She frowns, shaking her head slowly. "I-... I don't even know why I am here. I don't want anything like that. I want to grow stronger, yes... I must show my brother that I have honored our father's teachings just like him. And for that, I need to keep getting better. But I don't want what Marise- what /you/ wanted. I just want..."
She falls quiet, maintaining her pace but finding herself lacking the words to express what is on her mind now. She's here because Marise made her be. But why? The Devilish half of the being she knows wouldn't tell her. Wouldn't tell her why she went through such great pains to send her here, to walk the path she walked. But surely she must have an interest. She would hardly be concerned about Hotaru's future longevity, would she?
"I came because I had to, but I... I do have a problem I need help with. But I cannot pay the kind of price you paid..."

The pale maiden stops.
This crisis of intent is far too important to simply gloss over and soldier on. The woman turns to the girl fully this time, gently reaching out with her hands in a bid to cup the younger one's cheeks. A gesture completely devoid of the possessive, conquering feel that her darker half often gives in such a touch. This is reassuring, comforting as the taller woman smiles. Her violent eyes glimmering with emotion.
"I am.. I am glad you never would, Miss Futaba."
No, this guide would never condone such a thing. She did not then.. she would not now. She is glad that this one has a much greater sense of.. of. Well.
"What I did.. No one can choose for you. Heavens willing, what I did you will never choose for yourself. No matter what. Always remember.."
Reaching down to take the girl's hand, gathering it and clasping it between her own. Earnestly looking directly into the little one's eyes as she states firmly, "My master cannot take from you that which you will not give. That is the price of Lord Maou's own strength. For all his greatness, he cannot take that which is not freely given. It is why he needs.. People such as myself.." Tilting her head as she adds, "My other self.."

A long exhale. Not that such a thing is required, but even amongst the dead such a thing is comforting. Exhaling the tension within as the maiden closes her eyes. "You must ask yourself. You must know. What price you will pay.. for what you desire most. How much is your brother's respect worth to you.. And what would you do to have it."

Gently releasing her smaller hands, Marise gives the girl yet another serene smile. Gaze lingering upon her before turning towards the road once more. Adding over her shoulder, "In the Court of Judgement you will be tested. You must understand who you are.. and confront that which you most hate. Only then.. will my great master allow you to choose your payment."

The touch to her cheeks... so familiar, yet so different. Where it has inspired fear and loathing in the real world, it feels comforting... and nurturing here even in this world of ruin and despair. The advice is carefully absorbed, eyes... so unlike the ones she had in life, stare back, wide and attentive. There is some solace in her words. That the Lord of this realm can't take anything from her forcibly is... good to know. Though it also means the burden of making the sacrifice rests squarely on her shoulders. It will be her choice in the end.
She has a lot to think about though. The price she will pay for what she wants. She thought she was already paying the price all along. Working hard, practicing relentlessly, pushing herself further and further every day. Does she really need to strike a deal with the devil to get what she wants? Can't she obtain it on her own?
"Thank you," Hotaru states quietly as Marise withdraws her hands. The words, the counsel, the warnings. She absorbs all of them, falling quiet as she turns them over and over in her mind. Then a confrontation is before her... She doesn't breath, she has no need to. But there is another question she can't help ask as she begins to walk once more. "Do you hate what you did? That there is a part of you that goes on living, leaving you to pay the price forever?"

The maiden considers the question a moment. Answering in a tone bereft of aggression or malice, "No. Hate.. is the legacy of my other half. I suppose .. In some way I should be thankful. Only now do I see things with clarity. Where she is forever consigned to her hatred. To be free of that fate is.." The concubine considers with a pleasant smile, "..Worth this."
In some ways, perhaps this woman is incapable of darker emotion. She is, afterall, crafted wholecloth of the positive aspects of the spirit. Seeing the world only from rose-colored lenses.. As her wicked counterpart only sees the world in a haze of loathing. Insight, perhaps, into how the wicked maiden could be so lacking in common decency of the average person. A soul out of balance, fractured and broken.
Is that not what the ghost said of Hotaru herself?

After a fashion the woman posits a question of her own. Her own curiousity beginning to get the better of her as there is much she is curious about, "Forgive my intrusion Miss Futaba however.. Are you truly doing all of this for your brother's love? He must be.. a great man to be worth such admiration. Perhaps.. could you tell me of him?"

As the spirit guide before her speaks, Hotaru lifts her hand to her mouth in pensive thought, digesting the reply and thinking about the implications, acutely aware of just how single minded the woman who sent her here is. She acts without the burden of a conscious because she has none. The girl closes her eyes for a moment as she weighs that heavily. If all that is good about that person that has been split in twain stands before her now, then there is nothing left in the living incarnation. Pure evil, without remorse or conscience. Any time she thinks that the woman might be acting with a touch of human decency... it is only just another ploy.
But then the question is turned back around on the girl and Hotaru blinks with surprise. No one had ever asked her something like that before. "No," comes the answer after a hesitation that doesn't linger for too long. "That isn't all... I- If I can reunite with him, then my father can return too. It is the way my mother would have wanted it. She... she's gone now and I'm the only one left that can put things back to the way she would have wanted."
She continues after a pause, however. "But my brother is... was very close. He was a good brother. But when my mother died, it was too much for him. I haven't seen him since. I think the burden of having to worry about me was too much. I should have been stronger back then. But when I find him again, he will see how I have grown." She clasps her hands together in front of her, following Marise as her voice falls quiet, dreaming of the reunion she believes to be sometime ahead in her life.
"But I've been getting sicker, little by little. I can't show him I'm strong if in realitity I need more help than ever before." She frowns a little, "If I can find a cure on my own, then I must."

The creature in the living world named Marise is just a hollow shell. A cast-off fragment of what was once a whole person. All that is monsterous about humanity, without temperance or compassion. One can only wonder ... what is the Devil Ninja's angle in all of this? If she clearly is incapable of doing anything for the good of others..

Sensing the girl's hesitation the pale maiden begins to answer, "Forgive my impertenence Miss Futaba I.." Voice trailing, silenced only by the girls quick word and further explaination.

Nodding once, the guide considers the words as she refolds her hands within her sleeves. Trying to understand where this little girl is coming from.. among other things. Knowing her other half forced the girl to start this journey.. She knows well that her darksoul would never go through such troubles unless there was something more to her than simply rescuing a poisoned girl.

"You wish to reunite your family then. That is quite a wonderful goal..." Her voice drifting. Far better than her own was.
With a slow exhale, the Devil's Concubine again looks distantly ahead, "So she did tell you.." Apparently news of Hotaru's malaise is not news to this disembodied conscience.

She nods slightly at the acknowledgement of her goal. "If my mother were alive to see what happened...." She struggles for the words before continuing, "To know that her death would cause such pain. It must weigh heavily on her even to this day, I believe."
But then comes the admission that her guide knows more than just cursory details about herself. "Then you knew that as well," she states, brow furrowing slightly, her tone almost accusatory. She can't help but feel a little spark of ire. For all the goodness made manifest in this half of the woman she's witnessed do horrible things before, she can't help but think that she is still witholding important information, making her in at least a small part complicit with the machinations of her other half.
In the end, for all the insistence that she is the good half, and evidence that supports it, it's not so easy for the girl to seperate the two Marises and treat them as independant of each other. It would take someone with much deeper patience and understanding than even the normally patient girl to fully seperate the two in their mind.
"What else haven't you told me? Why would you send me here, to walk the path you did so long ago when you knew that I come not lusting after the power that you did? I don't understand..."

Once again the woman turns on her heel. Facing the youth with eyes that hold.. regret, "Its not like that.. Its.."
Voice halting yet again as her purple eyes roam the princess-like girl a moment, perhaps reconsidering what she thought would be the best course of action as that gaze then drifts downwards to the unliving forest floor. "Forgive me if this humble one angered you. That was not my intent.. I should have known she did not tell you the whole of it."

Only then, hoping she'll understand the intent.. Of this lightsoul of Marise anyway.. before turning back to the path ahead.
"... There is more than one unbalance in the living. As my counterpart is an example of.. the darker soul unbound, there are other conditions that are similar. However just as disasterous." Purple eyes sideglancing to her companion in brief once more, "To those with spirit sight, such as myself and my counterpart, we can see things in others most cannot. I cannot say how this happened precisely.. But your soul is out of balance. Your higher soul is far too strong and overflowing your body with its strength. Surely you must know as you call upon your techniques.. It must feel like.." Shaking her head once, eyes narrowing as she attempts to best describe, "..A breaking sensation. Like.. surging water breaking a dam. Too much flowing through too little. It is.. a very rare condition and yet more rarely a natural one. Usually.. such a thing occurs when one is taught techniques improperly.. Or without thought for balance."
"Whereas my other self is always suspect.. She is correct in that my great master will know how to teach you to regain alignment within yourself. As for why I would do such a thing? ..." A momentary pause, "..I can only suspect that whatever traffic you would have with Lord Maou will gain her something. And it must be something she craves most.."

"Nn," Hotaru replies, admitting that she has felt the sensation Marise describes. Drawing upon her chi to augment her techniques has become a risky thing of late in her fights, almost taking as much out of her as she dishes out to her opponent, just in different ways. She had wondered if she was sick or perhaps not in tune enough with her own self to call upon the strength within her. But it was a problem growing worse over time, as if the fount of power in her heart was gaining in strength but her body wasn't keeping up with it. A problem of alignment... one that apparently Lord Maou can help her correct.
Her condition calls into question her training, it would seem, and Hotaru is quiet on the subject as her mind mulls the past. Her father was a brutally powerful man who had sought to pass his techniques to his children. But her mother had insisted their daughter's training be tempered and their little 'Firefly' was spared the harshest lessons that Gato ended up being subject to. The girl has always felt that there is more to training than the kicks and punches one might learn. Her Kyokugen training has made her more outgoing, more spontaneous, more competative, above and beyond any actual techniques learned. But what were the lessons of her father's Kenpo training? What became of him and Gato when the grounding guidance of her mother was no longer part of the picture?
Hotaru focus again on the back of Marise as her guide leads the way. "It seems like she must already know somewhat of the sacrifice that will be asked of me," she muses. "She wouldn't have gone through all this trouble if she wasn't pretty sure about where this is going..."

To this, the spirit guide falls silent. She wishes she could be more helpful, but there are many things her other half never informs her about. She knows.. only what her lively counterpart wishes her to know about current events in the living world. Most of which in the form of boasts or curses. The pale lady only knows few details, and most of which what Hotaru tells her now.

Certainly this information does raise many questions about the nature of the girl's upbringing and training. Who's fault was this imbalance? Or was it anyone's fault at all? Is the Kyokugen training all for nothing then, or perhaps make the problem yet worse? At the moment.. there is no way to know. Only speculation.

On the subject of speculation, it is all the spirit can do when the visitor muses aloud. Maintaining her silence as she does not wish to say anything on the subject.. Not because she is again trying to be evasive, but simply the fact that she knows nothing for certain. To tell the girl what she thinks.. only for it to be completely untrue or even disasterously bad information.. It would be better off for her to say nothing at all.
Her deathly opposite is not above using her own ignorance for her own ends, afterall.

The woman, however, will say this, "Perhaps. But no one can see all ends. There may be a way for you to turn this for the better.. As long as there is hope, there is always a way. Even in Makai."

"Maybe," comes the trailing girl's reply as she spends most of the time contemplating in silence. Reflection seems key at this time as she has weighty decisions that lie before her. If the Devil gets everything she wants out of this, then no doubt the girl will be furthering her agenda moreso than she has already done by shattering the sealing stone.
But if Marise doesn't get what she wants out of this entire endeavor, what then? What of the child for whom the final hours are ticking by even now. What of herself? Surely the last of the Koga could simply leave Hotaru behind in the cave. Bereft of food, water, and light, her chances of ever making it back out of that deep tunnel would be slim at best.
Steadily she continues along, never having to worry about growing tired. Step by step across the hills and valleys of this twisted take on the country she has always known. Little by little toward the city where all things will be decided.

Silence then reigns for a long time between them.
The journey continues throughout the mountainous region. Time passes strangely in this world. Seconds drag out to hours.. yet days seem to pass like minutes. They pass villages and towns throughout the countryside, within view but never close. The surface of Makai trafficks only in demons, as all manner of horrible things can be seen milling within those domains of evil. Minding or playing their enslaved human souls as they toil endlessly in whatever fel industry these creatures busy themselves with.
The mountains give way to hills and rolling fields, laced with the occasional river of liquid flame upon shores of tar and sludge. Curiously, streets and paths are always straight here.. where geography and asthetics would have curved streets or roads make more sense. As they come closer to civilization, it would seem that there are no vehicles here. Technological advancement seems to be somewhere in the 1800's, As if Japan had never left the apex of the Tokugawa Shogunate over a century ago. Terrible, flame-footed creatures one could call 'horses' serve as the primary means of travel and burden. Along with press-gangs of human servitors always under the whip of something dark and terrible. An entire culture founded upon the most extreme of feudal notions and slave labor. Suffering, pain and power appear to be the currency of this realm. Truly, the stronger brutally control the weak.

It is now easy to see why the Devil of Koga chooses these methods. Indeed, she would seem to be eager to bring the civilization of Hell to Earth.

The better half of that woman simply remains mute. Eyes downcast in a bid to avoid seeing these things as they pass by. Never tiring, never slowing, but always carefully keeping to the roads. Occasionally, some manner of guards look upon them but never raise a hand against them. All those who spy the pair, allow them to pass. Even when some of them look on with slavoring jaws, lustful eyes upon the both of them.
None are foolish enough to dare taste that which is Lord Maou's without his direct permission.

While her escort keeps her eyes downcast, Hotaru can't help but to look at everything as they go. Sometimes she stares as she walks, her unusual eyes taking in the villages they pass near, paying rapt attention to the denizens that mill about. The social hierarchy in hell isn't too hard to make out. It's the world that would be if some were to have their way. From Marise to the boy Dante, spouting the false wisdom of Kain, Hotaru has encountered many who would try to convince her that this way is the best way.
The molten rivers are somewhat of a marvel to the girl. Flowing with a different power than the rivers of the living world, they brim with destruction and sulfuric burning as opposed to the churning, life giving streams she's familiar with.
The hellbeasts upon which others ride are more frightening to her. Twisted forms of more noble creatures she knows of forced to run to and fro at the whims of flaming whips. Only when passing nearer to other entities does Hotaru's curiosity get subdued enough for her to lower her eyes, avoiding their salivating mouths or hungry eyes.
She follows Marise closely as the environment around them becomes more populated, perhaps feeling a bit claustrophobic, but like her guide that has become mute as of late, Hotaru speaks nothing either. Though now that she feels that they draw nearer to her goal, she finds herself feeling reluctant to continue, even if the urgency of passing time bids her to hurry all the same.

The eternity in Hell finally comes to an end.

As Hotaru's spirit guide finally pauses. Standing at the very edge of the city limits. Hands settling at her waist as she finally looks up to behold the granduer of the Unholy City once more. In the real world, Kyoto is perhaps the most traditional of the Japanese cities. The location of the Imperial Palace, and once the center of culture and political power.
In Makai, that distinction had never changed.

The pair face northwards towards the sprawling ancient metropolis. Nestled within a three way valley against the backdrop of the mountains they had just traveled from.. It is an awe-inspiring sight. Most buildings are hardly higher than a single story, crafted of the darker, sturdier wood from the nearby forests. Roofs crafted of black shale and stonework. Streets and sections of the city rigidly partitioned by massive stone walls and systems of gates. The closer to the heart of the city, the taller and more magnificent the buildings become..
Until one sees the Imperial Palace. Looming and casting its ominous shadow across all throughout the valley. Channels and resevoirs endlessly feed flamefalls running along its sides and throughout its complex structures, forever illuminating its silouette in an aura of crimson.
The seat of power in this province of Hell.

"The Court of Judgement resides within the Imperial Palace.. Within which my great master rules over all." The maiden softly adds, eyes once more drawn to the cracked cobblestones of the paved road at the entrance. The woman only adds to the girl's own reluctance.. As she can fully understand why she does not wish to take a step further.

Even a casual student of history would remember the pictures of Kyoto from the past in the school texts and Hotaru is far from casual in her interests. Comparing the unholy, warped version of the Seat of the Emperor to what exists in the real world is a sombering moment for her as she watches the falls of molten rock pour into the moats around it.
"Yes, of course," she replies to Marise's instructions. It all makes too much sense in a way, this twisted version of the only world she knew before being sent here. She lifts her hand rubbing it against her forehead as if expecting to find perspiration there in light of the steamy, hot air that pervades the heart of this empire.
She has already gotten out of the habit of sighing, inhaling, exhaling, instead standing perfectly still. Only the faint rustle of her clothing toyed with by the heated atmosphere distinguishes her from merely an illusion, as her body moves not at all for a long, thoughtful moment.
"I don't have a choice," she finally speaks, taking a step forward to resume the journey. The final stretch seems to be the hardest now that the destination is in sight. It was far easier to hurry when the end felt so distant. But as hard as it gets, she won't stop now. More than just a poisoned girl is on the line now.

The spirit guide steps as the pilgrim moves. Following at her side dutifully as they approach the home of the great master.
Many denizens of the Unholy City scurry about the streets, turning their luminous vision towards the pair as they march forth. The outlying streets are filthy in the extreme. Vagabonds, wastrels and all manner of degenerate beings linger here on the outskirts of civilization. For as terrible as it is here for them.. being so near the heart of the empire provides a modicum of safety and comfort not found elsewhere in the wilds of the underworld. Most of them not brave enough to dare be seen near the main road that the two boldly march upon.
The first of the city gates is guarded by twin goliaths. The colossal armored beings seem as statues at a glance, only to suddenly move with inexorable strength. Lifting their tower-sized weapons as the gate slowly parts open for them.. allowing them to continue along without incident.

"Miss Futaba.. The end of this journey nears. This humble servant will now tell you what you must know of the Court of Judgement."

This stretch of the city street is a bit better if militant in outlook. Mostly series of barracks and armories, doubtlessly where the bulk of the Great Lord's troops reside.

"All whom seek audience must pass through the Court. It is a room that holds only what you take with you. You must confront and defeat all that which you most hate. Only by conquering.. and accepting.. Can you pass. Should you fail..." Her voice trails.
"..I would humbly ask Miss Futaba not to fail."

At long last, the journey that started thousands of steps ago is about to reach its conclusion. Hotaru is quiet again, eyes scanning those around her. There is a tinge of guilty relief as she eyes some of those who dwell in squallor and misery along the way. Her stay here is to be temporary... or so she hopes.
They, on the other hand, have only the eternities to look forward to in this condition. Until, perhaps, at long last they look skyward toward the unending of it all and surrender their existence to the vortex. She feels bad for them a little... but is this not their reward for misdeeds done while living? Did they not earn this fate with a life of inflicting misery upon others, setting aside this reward with each sinful act committed? She shakes her head, resolving to never forget this when difficult choices are placed before her in the times to come - if she gets out of this alive.
Then come the instructions and Hotaru is fully attentive, nodding slowly, her brow furrowing. Her mind churns with the thought about facing what she hates most of all. What does she hate more than anything? For the girl who has always tried to spend as little time as possible holding grudges or nursing old angers, it's not the easiest question to answer. There is a nagging in the back of her mind that she knows what that answer is though but just doesn't want to face it head on... which makes what is coming up all the harder to prepare herself for.
"Thank you," comes the reply after the instructions are given, her orange hued eyes blinking slowly. "I wouldn't know what to do were it not for your help. If I pass through the Court and beyond, it will be in no small part due to you."
She looks forward then. Always forward. Step by step taking her closer to the end.

"It is.. Nothing worthy of praise." The pale maiden states softly with a weak smile. Ultimately she is simply a tool. Used by her darkside as well as the wicked lord of these lands. She is complicit in the terrible fortunes befalling this girl, and is helpless to do anything about it.
Her soul.. her freedom.. is no longer her own. A fate she can only hope against hope will never befall her diminutive charge.

"Be well, Miss Futaba. My prayers, for what they are worth, go with you." Continuing to pace alongside the girl as they pass the fourth and final gate.. approaching the shadow of the massive palace blotting out the Antisun above. The firefalls illuminate the courtyard beyond spectacularly, casting the dark edifaces of the tremendous castle in a sinister hue. Only the nobility of Hell resides here, gossiping amongst themselves in begeweled kimono and the most fantastic of hairstyles and accessories. Unlike the riffraff beyond, all eyes pointedly ignore the approaching visitor. They are beneath their station afterall, and not worthy of notice. Only a few eyes happen to glance in their direction as they approach the final gate.

The massive doors to the Great Palace of Makai.

"..I am permitted to go no further now." The spirit guide pauses at the very last of the cobblestone road. Violet eyes turning to the girl in full, her lips always holding that gentle smile. Feeling.. compelled to issue one last warning, for the future. Should the girl have one.
"Never trust Marise. In many ways.. she truly died long ago. She is not a whole person, and perhaps will never be. She can no longer see beyond that which she hates most."

And on that, a final warning as she reaches forth to touch the girl's shoulder, "...Miss Futaba. Understand that what you see in the Court of Judgement .. is true. You will see in yourself that which you never before thought possible. ... Hold true to your courage and all the strength you have gained. ... Fortune be with you."

As they stand before the massive gates, Hotaru listens again as that good half of the woman she fears whispers a final warning before she is to be left to get by or fail tragically all on her own and reap what consequences may be. She bows her head to the woman who has seen her this far across the long journey, hands clasped together formally in front of her.
"I... I wish it wasn't so," she replies quietly. "Knowing now what drives her... knowing the regrettable price she paid... She wasn't always that way. In you I see a part of who she was before." Her eyes are downcast after the bow as she falls quiet. Marise had said there were aspects of Hotaru tha reminded her of her own childhood. Before it was difficult to imagine how - but now that she's seen the other side, it strays closer into being possible. "But now knowing I will never fall for any feigned hope of redemption in her. It's impossible for her to change." the girl states firmly.
"Farewell," she finally whispers, not lifting a hand to touch her guide in return, eyes lifted once more to focus squarely on the way ahead. For the first time in over a day, she inhales deeply then exhales slowly, mimicking for a moment the traditional outward appearance of steeling her courage before moving forward once more; this time alone.

The spirit watches with heavy heart. Hands folded at her middle as she watches the brave girl march forth.. Into the heart of Makai.

The massive gates of the palacial fortress crack open only a fraction. Allowing the small girl entrance into the main hall which seems curiously empty.

The hall itself is entirely traditional. So closely mirroring the proper palace of the real world that it nearly jars the girl from remembering precisely where she is.
The finished wood of the floors and pillars, the paper walls and carefully maintained torchlights. The feel here is.. Indescribable. The air is thick with a forboding tension, a feeling that a thousand eyes stare through her and watch every move she makes. The only sign of other souls?
Through the translucent walks can be seeing images.. like shadow puppets. Their outlines are difficult to make out in exactness, but dozens of events play themselves out in a strange, silent theatre.
All along the walls the girl can see events unfold. Images of a young girl standing amongst two taller, male figures. Images of another female figure, with the girl.. comforting her, holding her.
Images of the girl standing before a solemn tombstone in a church courtyard..

Until finally, the girl comes to pause before the final doorway. Closed sliding doors, framed by massive pillars of obsidian. Etched with countless, indecipherable words of another age.

The Court of Judgement.

Slowly she walks through the long hall, her eyes silently seeking to satisfy that nagging sensation of being watched yet unable to find who her unseen observers may be. She glances from side to side, taking in the appearance of the interior. Were it not for the oppressive, smothering tension weighing down on her to remind her of where she is, she would have enjoyed the walk through such regal, traditional architecture.
But then the images begin to appear. A ghostly play staged for an audience of one. Images from her life that she remembers well. High points, like her very first competative victory at a young age. Only, when seen from this perspective, does she see the glowing pride in her father's eyes matched only by the quiet concern in her mother's. How she clearly missed that subtle difference back when she was younger.
Then she spies herself alone on the porch of a estate mostly enshrouded by mist. Young, forlorn eyes gazing wistfully down the long walkway to the distant street. The last place she ever saw her brother in person.
Hotaru closes her eyes, shaking her head, staring forward again as she tries to move beyond the past rather than be mired in it. The comparison in size between the dimunitive, white kimono-clad girl and the final doorway is staggering. She glances toward the pillers, eyes passing over the words she could never read. What secrets lie there? What mysteries could be solved if only the message of the obsidian columns could be known?
Trying to open the door by force would be a ludicrous prospect. But she does step forward, extending one pale hand to rest against the surface of it, eyes straying up and down it's massive height. "I am ready," comes the calm affirmation. Ready to face that which she must.

What is Judgement, if it is not the past returning to have its say?
As the girl places her hand against doors, they obligingly slide open. The soft sound of polished wood fills the air, slowly revealing a room of utter black. No sound or images betrays the bleak confines. It is a void, an emptiness above and beyond a simple space.

With that last intrepid step, the girl passes into the Court. The nothing swallowing her senses whole as the doors slide shut behind her.

Blue eyes open once more as she finds herself in a very familiar forest. Unlike the forests of Makai, these are far more familiar to her memories. Living, yet still ominous, she can feel the crunch of the fallen leaves beneath the soles of her shoes.
A quick glance will confirm that she is once again wearing her kenpo fighting dress. Without blemish or mark upon her.. as if the days of trek across Makai did not come to pass at all.

The empty void that she is invited to step into once the doors part before her is hardly a welcoming sight. But compared to the sights and sounds she has endured thus far, it isn't the hardest thing to take those bold steps forward, freezing in place as the doors close behind her, leaving darkness as her only company now.
It doesn't last long though, her footsteps coming down on the leaves of a forest. She comes to a stop as she is bathed in light by which to see, wary eyes taking in her surroundings. She realizes the change in attire immediately, able to move with much greater ease without the intricate, layered clothing weighing her down any longer.
Turning around in circles for a moment, no direction looks better than any other to go in. However, there is that innate instinct she has when it comes to navigating such environments. Hard to say if it would hold true here, locked in this prison of potential intangibility. But she picks out a direction that just 'feels' right and begins to move along all the same, eyes continuing to scan the trees and plantlife around her, seeking out any other signs of something living here.

"Hmph."
The living do not take long to announce their presense.
As the girl intrudes deeper into the forest, that singular sound of derision announces the arrival of a painfully familiar figure. How could she forget?
The very ground seems to tremble as the mountain of a man steps forth. Bare feet crumbling the Earth as he sweeps his massive cloak over his statuesque physique. His visage hidden behind a nigh-featureless demon mask, but she can feel his incredibly forceful scrutiny borrowing through the little thing whom dares to intrude upon the forest lands of he whom the Martyr of Might dedicated his almost limitless power to.
"You think yourself worthy to know the truth?" The monster of unparalleled strength bars her way now. Passively staring at her with level of contempt that no mask can hide, "You presume to ever be strong enough to earn your Brother's respect?"
With a sweep of his mighty cape, the brutal man holds his fists aloft. A stamp of his foot rattles every branch of every tree as far as the girl can see.
"Show me."

COMBATSYS: Marise has started a fight here on the right meter side.

                                  >  //////////////////////////////]
                                 |-------\-------\0           Marise

There's no way she could /ever/ forget. The voice of the mountainous man resonates within the forest, freezing the comperatively small fighter in her steps. Turning as his thunderous steps make his presence impossible to miss, the blue-eyed fighter looks the man over. For the moment she is back in time a couple of months though the forest was darker then as evening had set. And the monsterous Martyr stepped forward and told he knew where her brother was but doubted she was worthy of finding out.
'Show me,' the voice from behind the demonic mask had spoken. And show him she tried, throwing herself at him desperately, only to be rebuffed, time and time again. Only when pushed to the very edge of survivability did she finally manage to avoid his attacks and survive just long enough for him to spare her, offering the slightest hope that perhaps she was worthy after all.
Now faced with him again, the girl remembers the crushing pain, the smashing to the ground in the end that would have killed her had another not found her in time. As the shockwave of his stomp passes through her, the girl leans forward, charging forward, leaping into the air into a spin kick toward his chiseled chest. The momentum will be enough to let her run the rest of the way up the front of him and kick him in the head as well, striking out forcefully toward that horrifying mask. "YA!"

COMBATSYS: Hotaru has joined the fight here.

[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////////////]
Hotaru           0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0           Marise

COMBATSYS: Marise blocks Hotaru's Light Kick.

[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ////////////////////////////  ]
Hotaru           0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0           Marise

The girl's foot strikes hard at the living monolith's forearm. The Martyr's fathomless strength allows him greater speed than his mighty frame would suggest. The impact jars the little girl to the bone, as she has struck solid carbonized steel weaker than his flesh.
"Is this all? Have no more to show than this??"
Swinging that mighty arm outwards in a wide arc. Seeking to backhand the child with a flourishing sweep of his arm. Cloak billowing with the abrupt movement as the ground again shakes with his movement. Wind rushing outwards in the aftermath of the blow.

What has she learned? But then.. since they had fought last how often has she trained under the Kyokugen? How much backbreaking exercise has she endured at their grueling tutelidge? Has she not become twice as strong as she had been since?
Show him!

COMBATSYS: Marise successfully hits Hotaru with Quick Punch.

[  \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ////////////////////////////  ]
Hotaru           0/-------/------=|-------\-------\0           Marise

Just like before, her ability to harm him is called into question as her feet strike solidly against matter that would make Marco's wrecking ball seem like tissue paper in comparison. Even a clean hit against his chest would have barely phased him, all things considered.
And just like last time, she fails to get out of the way of the man's unspeakably fast yet devestating retaliation. His back hand sends her flying off, crashing back against a tree with enough force to crack the hard wooden surface before she slides slowly down into a seated position on the ground, mouth slack with shock.
She won't be taken down though like this. Like last time, she has more left in her in spite the devestating blow. She won't have this mighty titan count her out so fast. Biting her lip, she pushes herself to her feet, crushed leaves falling from her hands. No, not yet. That isn't all. She can take more than that, and she can dish out more too.
Gritting her teeth, she leans forward into another charge toward him, this one faster though stumbling a little from the pain she's fighting against. She put her life on the line in his last test of her will, and she isn't going to give up this one either. "I AM worthy!" she declares before striking out to back it up, again drawing upon leg strength where arm strength would be sure to fail her.
One hand slams out toward his stomach, as that is about as high as she can strike without taking a risky leap. She whirls around swinging her other arm forward at him secondly, striking with the heal of her palm, holding nothing back, leaning into the attack with everything she has. "YA!"

COMBATSYS: Hotaru successfully hits Marise with Quick Punch.

[  \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////////    ]
Hotaru           0/-------/-----==|==-----\-------\0           Marise

The Martyr of Might watches the girl restore her resolve. Tilting his head, uttering another dismissive grunt as his man-slaying fists rise once again. Perhaps this time deciding to end this little nuisance once and for all and put her out of her misery. Nothing so weak deserves to live..
With an abrupt twist, the powerful man widens his stance to generate yet greater force as his strike sweeps downwards..
A fraction, just a fraction to slow.. As his fist misses the girl's head by the width of a hair. The first of her strikes slams against his incredibly dense muscles.. But for once it is not she the that trembles before the impact as the man is paused by the strength of the blow.
The follow through strikes true as the girl puts the entire force of her young body into the strike.. Impacting the man with enough force to -drive- him back. His heels furrowing into the Earth beneath him as his demon helm jolts forwards.
The impact is barely enough to dent him. But for the first time she actually managed to send him reeling as he takes another step back..

....
"You still buy into the illusion, girl?" An emotionless voice lilts behind her.
A familiar, wirey young man stands amidst the forest. His dark trenchcoat shrouding much of his toned form in darkness. But those jade-green eyes, narrowed to slits and that private, knowing smile can never be mistaken. "What is it that drives you.. I wonder?"

In the moment of distraction.. Grant has vanished. As if he had never been at all. Though the pain of striking his steel-hard body lingers yet in her hands.. as well as the ache of her spine from the impact of the tree.

"Surely you must understand the futility of it all by now. The strong.. has always dictated to the weak. Is that not what you most secretly desire?"
Dante strikes forth with blinding speed, his hands moving with great technical skill driven by the fierceness of his toxic power. Fingers seeking to strike the girl and infuse her body once more with his venomous, burning Chi.
"To prove yourself stronger than your brother?"

COMBATSYS: Hotaru dodges Marise's Quick Punch.

[  \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////////    ]
Hotaru           0/-------/-----==|==-----\-------\0           Marise

The fist of the titan among men flies right past her head. A clean blow may have snapped her neck entirely, ending this spectacle of the fly swatting the lion in a pathetic attempt to garner his regard. But she lives on, the sheer power of his fist flying by sending her hair flying back even as her hands strike forward. And in the end, it's enough. Just like it was enough in the forest, when he held out the hope of answers to be found to the girl even as he crushed her into the ground.
Then comes the voice behind her, spoken with almost a sneer, and she turns around to face him, eyes focusing on Kain's student. He faced her twice. The first time they spoke and he lectured her on the way the world should be if Kain and he were to have their way. The weak driven at the whims of the strong who deserved it, for they were powerful and nothing could be denied them.
Then again in the forest they fought. This forest. It started out as a harmless challenge and quickly veered into a death match as the young man tried to use this chance to provoke Jiro into a death match of their own. But she held him off, combining speed and careful timing to deal with attack after attack from the young man. Just as she does now, his fingers slicing through the air where she was a moment ago as she leans low into a stance with her legs far apart. "No. I want to prove myself his equal. But I seek not to enforce my will on anyone else by strength like you accuse me of!" Before he can retract his arm, with its venom, the girl lunges up with her shoulder, driving it into him if possible, "Tenshin- SHOU!"

COMBATSYS: Hotaru successfully hits Marise with Quick Punch.
- Power hit! -

[  \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////////////       ]
Hotaru           0/-------/-----==|====---\-------\0           Marise

Dante's nigh-hypnotic technical prowess is caught off-guard once again by this surprising girl. His words silenced as her shoulder strikes true within his defenses. Jolting his head back from the impact as he backpeddles several paces to press his back against a nearby tree.
The young man gently rubs his chin, more of a considering gesture than nursing any injury the girl could hope to give him. "Equality is also an illusion.." He calmly asserts..

....

"..I must admit that strike very spirited. Gutsy." The tall, proper man comments a few steps near Hotaru.
As Hotaru turns to face her good friend Kurow Kirishima, she finds herself on the Justice High school grounds. Students milling about in the aftermath of classes as she had just gotten the fighting genius' attention. "But I fear he does have a point. If no one in the world is the same.. how can there be true equality?" The young man calmly sets asside his bookbag and settles into a simple karate stance. Easily mimicking the relatively transparent teachings of the Kyokugen. "Strength is always a means to an end. A tool.. one of many. Focus. Viciousness. These are qualities you have always lacked. Have you ever asked yourself.. what if in order to become your brother's peer.. You too must become narrow-mindedly brutal?"
Abruptly changing his stance, he sweeps his arm upwards in a violent motion, "REPPUKEN!" The violet energy surges violently along the ground.. shredding the campus earth like an energized plow!

COMBATSYS: Hotaru dodges Marise's Strong Punch.

[  \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////////////       ]
Hotaru           0/-------/-----==|====---\-------\0           Marise

He had questioned her ability the first time they had fought. Told her she had spirit, and that she was charming in a way, but that her inhibitions would hold her back forever. And here he is again, the young man just like before. Blue eyes come to rest upon him, the girl relaxing now as the Serpent is suddenly out of her mind entirely.
"There are other sources of strength," she replies. "Mercy, virtue, these too are power. Power over self, strength to make choices free of the blinding force of ego or ire." The girl remembers her mother teaching her those lessons so long ago as her lessons in fighting began. She wasn't to use what she was taught to become a bully at kindergarten. And when she competed, she was cautioned against not sinking to the level of her opponents who would be happy to strike to maim given an opening.
As the surge of energy comes flying toward her, Hotaru steps to the side, arm realing back as she runs forward, parallel to the path the world famous Reppuken had taken. "My ability to fight... is important to me, but not so important that I would betray how I was raised - who I am," she speaks calmly as she hops forward, spinning around in the air, coming down into a landing while swinging out quickly with two rapid strikes aimed high then following it up with a single strong palm press aimed toward his chest as her feet touch the ground, "Soushou Shin!"

COMBATSYS: Marise blocks Hotaru's Quick Punch.

[  \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////        ]
Hotaru           0/-------/-----==|=====--\-------\0           Marise

"Hm." Comes Kurow's monosyllabic reply. The young man has always been faster than the girl, and he demonstrates that prowess at every turn. Calmly stepping asside in a calculated, slow fashion as her whirling strike just misses its mark. He does, however, catch that outstretch palm. Intercepting the grip and twisting the limb upwards, painlessly but to better get a look to her eyes with his own.
"I believe.. I am beginning to see the truth of it then. Consider.."

....

The girl finds herself stumbling forth now. No longer supported by Kirishima, an errand step kicking over an empty bowl in an alley street. Her feline charges all sit mutely, some along the roof others on boxes and trashcans, sequestered away in the darkest labyrinthine heart of Southtown. The moonlight filtering amongst the hung laundry above like countless billowing veils. Just like that night.. the first night..
"The one thing you had never admitted to yourself. Consider, girl.." The ominous figure stands at the end of the alleyway. Looming like ghost.. her parasol obscuring much save for her sinister voice. "Those who raised you.. Loved you.. Betrayed you."
The Parasol tossed asside as the Devil Ninja rushes forth in a blur. Her long arm stretching forth, closing the distance like a pearlescent spear with clawed-fingers spread! "Is that not the source of your pain? You are ALWAYS betrayed in the end!"

COMBATSYS: Hotaru endures Marise's Heavy Kick.

[      \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////        ]
Hotaru           0/-------/--=====|=====--\-------\0           Marise

The Justice High student out maneuvers her like so many times before and she finds her wrist grasped and twisted, the girl locked in place, forced to look up at him as she is pulled forward against her will. And it is in that moment of being face to face him that she does consider and consider hard. "I remember who you really are..." she whispers with quiet awe, her eyes flitting back and forth as in her mind she remembers him differently then - standing before her, one of his claws dripping with blood. Her blood. Her shoulder aches, an old wound remembered. And then he is gone and she is in the alley.
Unlike last time, the cats are here. She had wondered about her charges the first time. What had the creature done to them? Where were they? But this time there is no time to wonder as that horrible voice is heard from behind the parasol. "No..." gasps Hotaru, sounding pained before any attack has even been attempted. "No! Not all of them! Not always!" She protests, hands out at her sides, open as she denies the accusation.
She pictures the faces of those who have impacted her life. The strange princess from a far off country, with her lilting voice and healing touch. Jiro, though far from her now, his thoughts are with her and hers with him. He will come home someday. There are those who took her under their wing. The crazy old man, Takuma, and his dependable son, Ryo Sakazaki - Ryo-sensei in her mind. She pictures her mentor with a quiet smile, remembering time and time again how he has taught her to not fear the attacks of others but to deny them the satisfaction of seeing her scurry before their blows and strike them back with confidence.
When the nigh taloned fingers lash out for her, the girl darts forward, allowing them to strike her full on, piercing cloth and skin with a brutal blow. But the determined Kenpoist isn't down and she spins forward, using their proximity to her advantage as she strikes out with a chi laden foot - a special blue charged gift for the Devil of Koga. Tears roll down her right cheek even as she attacks, the words far sharper barbs than the clawed fingers could ever be.
"All your words to me are filled with deceit. I can never trust what you say. What do you know of me?"

COMBATSYS: Marise interrupts Heavy Kick from Hotaru with Quick Punch.

[        \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////////           ]
Hotaru           0/-------/-======|======-\-------\0           Marise

The Devil lurches forwards as the girl simply accepts the blow. Her taloned fingers raking her rolling body but unable to stop her forward momentum. Considerably off-balance as the devil's inhuman, golden eyes widen at the oncoming kick. "What do I know?" violent-painted lips twist into a vicious, fanged smile.

....
"SEI!" A familiar voice jolts through the air even as Hotaru sails in mid-kick, the Chi blow moments from striking true.
"DO!"
The girl is swatted out of the air with all the force of a freight train. Finding herself -shattering- through the wall of the building. Brick and mortar exploding like shrapnel as she flips end over end. Sprawling to a stop amidst the courtyard of her very own church.
The last place she saw her assailant, as Jiro now stands at the end of the gate. Clothing disheveled from the earlier fight, having just saved her from the founders of Blackjack. His fist curled tightly as a pained look crosses his expression. "...Hotaru. I'd never lie to you. You know that, right? Look.." A fingerless gloved hand sweeping through his bangs. The Stray Dog not one to explore his feelings. The world for him is quite simple. Or at least, he wishes it was simple. "..There is a hell of a lot going on in my life right now. I have to do this. I have to go.. Its.."
The young man shakes his head and looks back up to her, "I have to leave you. Its destiny I guess.."

Marise looms just outside the churchyard grounds. Unable to enter, but her voice suffers no such restriction as she whispers in the dark, "They all leave you. Don't you get it now? Do you not see? They all consign you to the one thing you fear most.."

....

"You are always alone. Hotaru."
A voice speaks as the girl finds herself sprawled on the floor of the Futaba Training Dojo. A powerful, male voice. One that she has never forgotten no matter how many years or how many days have passed.

"Jiro..." Hotaru whispers, her voice weak, the blow she just suffered nearly taking everything out of her. "No. No, don't go. Don't leave me...!" she pleads, rolling over onto her side and reaching out with her arm, fingers stretching uselessly in desperation. But he goes, just like he did, leaving her behind in the end. Just like so many others. The course of his life was taking him elsewhere and she was to remain behind to stare after him.
Marise's voice is heard and the girl looks over her shoulders, blue eyes widen as the woman hones in precisely on the fears she has always felt over the years. Mother, father, brother, dear friend... maybe something more. One by one each has left her alone to fend for herself.
"Maybe I am..." comes the quiet admission as she finds herself lying on the floor of the dojo where she once trained arduously. She can't deny the feelings of solitude she has been trying to cope with as of late. So few friends and even fewer caring companions.
She opens her eyes reluctantly, rolling again onto her side as she plants her hand against the floor, looking up slowly, hesitantly. "It wasn't always like this. I didn't used to be alone. Not before you left. Why? Why did you leave me?" she asks, both eyes filled with tears now as she struggles to sit up. "What's wrong with me?"

THe figure standing tall and poised is indistinct. A dark silouette of fading memory. Only a few details can be made out clearly in the fog of time, notably his impeccably arranged kenpo uniform. The skirts of his robe shifting over dark pantlegs. A neatly trimmed mustasche and rigidly handsome features.
Long-sleeved arms folded properly behind the small of his back as Master Futaba paces his Dojo as he always did when impatient. His gaze somewhere else, as speaking to his other offspring is always something of a burden. "Silly girl. Do not concern yourself with things you cannot understand." Dismissing her tears entirely. Strolling towards the floor of the dojo, moving with tightly controlled patience just like the last time he had ever bothered to take a few minutes to practice with his daughter. Especially when they were better spent training with Gato. Of course, Father had never heard the end of it from Mother. It is.. a patriarcal concession to spend time with the weaker one.
"I will not speak to anyone who will not stand on their own feet." Master Futaba states firmly. With a deft motion, he brushes the skirt of his chinese tunic asside to better allow movement. The wind from that hypnotically swift move enough to sweep the floor clean of its layer of dust.
Her Father has always been the epitome of martial perfection. For every fight she has ever witnessed of him, in the rare times she spied upon him and Gato sparring.. No one has once ever laid a hand upon him in a duel. Not once.
But it was the only time.. As futile as it was.. when he would ever deign to spend time with her. One on one.

The dust cloud sent swirling from his movements blow over the girl as she sits on the floor, propped by her two hands, water-streaked cheeks beneath tear brimming eyes. But he's right. He didn't raise her to sit around and mope. For all of the disgregard, for all of the avoidance... for all of the times when doubt left her wondering why it was only her brother received training from one of the greater fighters of the previous generation, one thing she did learn was to stand strong no matter how bad it hurt.
She pushes herself to her feet, struggling at first. The pain of the attacks she has been through is excrutiating. Smashed through walls, crushed into trees, slashed by those horrifying hands of the Devil woman. It's a lot for the fragile fighter to suffer through. Months ago she would have already been unconscious by now.
She grits her teeth and then offers the proper respectful bow to her father, hands pressed together in front of her, head lowered properly. She straightens out then, slipping into the easy, loose ready stance he had instructed her in, light on her toes, hands at good places from which to strike and defend without being overly committed so that she can remain evasive. He always judged her too weak to take a hit. 'Just get out of the way. That's all you're good at,' he told her time and time again.
"Yes father," she murmurs to herself, remembering the lessons of the past but... but not agreeing with them. She was made of tougher stuff than that. Scurrying desperately out of the way like a panicked bird wasn't all she could do anymore. But now she was going to show him differently. Hands tightening, the girl charges forward, hopping up into a spin just like she had against the boy from Justice High, but the first two swings are just the first of more to come as she lands, her hands striking out, each attack backed by a small spark of blue or yellow energy as she attempts to burrow through his guard and land a more convincing attack.

COMBATSYS: Marise blocks Hotaru's Strong Punch.

[        \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  /////////////////             ]
Hotaru           0/-------/=======|=======\-------\0           Marise

A singular nod of acknowledgement as the girl agonizingly rises to her feet. It was, the most respect she had ever gotten out of him. To stand again no matter how many times she was struck down. It was the only way to have him regard her with anything other than noblisse oblige.

The stately man keeps one arm folded behind his back as the other hand slowly reaches out. Palm upwards with fingers closed together. Very relaxed, very open. Control incredibly complete.
The girl's assault is the strongest, most competent Master Futaba had ever witnessed from the girl. A .. spark of promise prehaps? Enough so that rather than his usual manner of stepping to the side or leaning just enough to avoid.. His hand actually blurs into motion. Slapping away at her whirling hands with very deft, dismissive counter-strikes. Taking a single step back as he single-handedly diffuses her assault with the ease of a unravelling a frayed tapestry by tugging on its strings.
In honor of her efforts, more worthy of the Futaba Family, Father offers her further words, "In truth? You are useless."

The man stamps his foot as he shifts his weight forward in a single fluid motion. The palm of his single hand shoving forwards in a deceptively gentle push. To an observer, the move would seem so simple and graceful it could only appear as a gentle reproach.
The reality of the attack is anything but gentle. In the aftermath of that single step, a seismic shockwave expands outwards in a perfect ring of force. Like a single flap of a butterfly wing changing the fate of the world. The energy transfers cleanly into the girl.. with more than enough power to send her sailing with more force than even the likes of Grant could muster on his best day.
"But that is not the source of your tears! That is not why you weep. It is not the source of the one thing that you dread with the totality of your being. The one thing that you cannot, will not, admit to yourself. The real reason you wish to reunite with my true child again.."

COMBATSYS: Marise successfully hits Hotaru with Strong Punch.

[           \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  /////////////////             ]
Hotaru           1/------=/=======|=======\-------\0           Marise

Strike after strike in trying to open him up for further attack. It is, all things considered, a futile attempt, but she pours everything she has into it anyway, bearing the pain that races down her arms with each flash of chi expended to break through. But her father is well beyond that. He always was. She's gotten faster but compared to him it means nothing. Strike after strike is knocked aside, even as she tries to vary the timing and angle of each swing.
Finally she relents, unable to swing again, her arms exhausted and burning with agonizing pain. And then comes his analysis of her attempt, his expression of the some total of what he thinks about his daughter. The truth she kept burried behind deliberate naivete that she has built up in the more recent years of her life. But here, now, no longer seeing him through the blurred lense of distorted memory, the perceptive girl is at long last perceptive about her own father for the first time. His words are crushing, causing her to stagger even before his attack is delivered.
And when the palm delivered shockwave lands, the girl is blown completely off her feet, into a wooden wall braced with cross beams and layers of sand bag insulation behind it. In truth, it would have been more merciful if she had just smashed through the wall, losing some of the momentum to the destruction of the material. But as it is she impacts with a sickening thud before sinking down slowly, her back sliding against the wall. She coughs then, her hand rising to her mouth, flecks of blood brushing off onto her fingers. How could he strike her so? That wasn't training. That was intent to kill, a blow meant to rid himself of a nusance he must so regret being burdened with.
'There is another way,' a dark unvoice whispers in her mind. She can't hear it, but she knows the words all the same. 'Attack again... I will show you how... Get up one more time.' Hotaru pauses, eyes narrowing. That attack should have killed her. If she charges again, will her father not just finish the job?

But getting up again is all she knows how to do right now, using the wall bearing her impression to rise to her feet. Does he know her true fear? It isn't being alone. Oh no. That is painful, but she's experienced it before and it hasn't killed her yet. The real fear is of the changes inside herself. The moments where she loses control, tapping into her power with a flagrant disregard for the fact that she might kill someone. They've been rare flashes... but it's the thought that she has it in her in the first place, that twisted, other side that she keeps surpressed. That is her fear, deep down inside. And she seeks her brother so rigorously so that she can see for herself that her father's progeny aren't locked into such a path. Surely it isn't her destiny...
'Attack again,' urges the dark whisper and the girl does so once again, charging her father with a different intent now, acting as directed by the whims of another as she sweeps her hand out, reaching for that blocking arm of his, intending to wrench it out and back with one hand while bringing her other hand crashing forward into his chest. She doesn't understand it as it happens, but the red-orange blast that comes out of her hand is like nothing she's ever created before. It feels like her energy... but it's different. It doesn't hurt at all but rather sooths, like base added to acid to yeild water, her body feels strengthened by it even as it expands out from her palm directly into the chest of her father.

COMBATSYS: Hotaru successfully hits Marise with Sou-shou Tenrenge.

[            \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////                       ]
Hotaru           0/-------/-------|=======\======-\1           Marise

"..What you hate most.."
The stern man straightens his stance once again. One hand rising palm upwards in his eternal readiness. Head tilting as he witnesses the girl actually getting to her feet. The Master of the Family rendered momentarily mute at the incredible reserve, the tenacity she shows now.
Master Futaba again sees the attack coming. Palm moving to intercept the strike as he absently presumes another simple, circular technique. Doubtlessly another move learned from her mother.
As his wrist is caught and wrenched upwards, only then does his eyes widen in abject surprise, "What is..?"

Those words prove to be among his last, as the point-blank blast of chi spears him through. Burning a circular hole in the front and back of his tunic.. Roasting the impact area through and through with its shocking fel power.

The shocked elder Futaba can only choke out, "..The truth.. is.."

......
Gato falls to his knees. Collapsing before the girl as his hand moves in vain to cover the murderous impact of her wicked technique. Blood trickling at the corner of his lips as he slowly looks to her.. at eye level.. "..You hate me.. For Father.. loving me more.. than.."
Intense eyes fading to a distant place beyond her. His strong hand gripping her shoulder in brief.. before simply.. letting go. Her lost brother's body slumping to a heap at her feet...

....

The doors of the Court of Judgement slide open. The wooden frames grinding with finality as an illumination spills into the void.. Where the princess-dressed girl, reeling from the incredible injuries she still feels.. The lingering euphoria playing at the fingertips of her murdering fist. Belying that which she feels in her heart at this moment. Shuffling, all but stumbling, into a simple throneroom. A high wooden seat upon a dais over a finished, wooden floor. Completely empty and devoid of life at a glance.
No distractions from the events she had just endured.. forced to endure..

COMBATSYS: Marise takes no action.

[            \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  <
Hotaru           0/-------/-------|

COMBATSYS: Marise can no longer fight.

[            \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  <
Hotaru           0/-------/-------|

When she sees what damage she's wrough the girl freezes, staggering back. The release was exhillerating but the outcome is every bit as horrifying. Shaking her head, she brings her hands up to her mouth, "No... no... what have I-" And then her father is gone, replaced by her brother. Her memory of him is fresh as she saw him participate in a SNF not long ago. Otherwise he might even appear three years younger than he does now.
"Brother..." she shakes her head, eyes half closed as they fill with tears again. These ones are different though. Where before she suffered with feeling sorry for herself, now she has remorse and acknowledgement to cope with and the weight of it is crushing. So much that she stumbles forward...
...and steps out of the Court of Judgement. All of the ache, physical, mental, and spiritual, is still with her and she gasps, lowering one hand to press against her stomach. She feels like she might be sick, the vision of her fallen family members wracking her mind. Her other hand stretches, however, invigored by the damage it had wrought. And that sensation leaves her only feeling more sick.
Finally she falls forward to her hands and knees, facing the empty seat atop the dais, eyes on the floor as she engages in an unintended act of supplication. "I can't hate him... no... it isn't possible." she cries, searching the conflicted feelings tearing through her now.

Tap.
The stately throne room is almost empty. Spartan, without frills or extravagance one would expect from the seat of power in this province of Makai. Very traditional, save perhaps the throne-like ediface in the center of the dais. No courtiers, no prominent banners along the walls or ceiling to denote the proper amount of respect one should pay.
Lord Maou is long since past such affects of insecurity.R
Tap.
As the girl grovels, frayed at the edges of her very sanity... forced to endure beyond what any sane person COULD endure.. She begins to realize she is no longer alone.

Should her vision arise from the floor just a fraction, through blurry tears and the haze of pain and suffering.. She will see the hem of a traditional black kimono and the tip of a simple wooden walking cane. Tapping softly with every movement.

"Is it really so difficult to believe, Hotaru Futaba?" An elderly, wisened voice speaks plainly. Gnarled hands clasped over one another on the pommel of his walking staff, leaning leisurely. "That Love and Hate are so closely intertwined.. they are sometimes indistinguishable?"

Lips all but hidden beneath a full, white beard. The short, elderly fellow is of poor posture. Balding.. with darkened eyes mostly shadowed beneath thick grey eyebrows.

Maou.

She pauses at the sound of another present. How long has she not been alone? Or did she just not notice as she stumbled in, blinded by the horrific images that filled her mind? Hotaru lowers her hands from her face slowly and lifts her head, tear-streaked cheeks glistening in what light exists here.
"Y-yes..." she whispers in denial of his words. "I have felt love before. It could have never been confused with hatred. It was nothing like it at all. My mother, she..."
The girl falls silent then, studying the aged face for a long moment before finally looking away, those flame-wreath irises of hers gazing once again at the floor before her.
"There is a difference." she insists again. "Though at times one shadows the other to such a degree that uncertainty reigns instead."

Lecturing children is certainly beneath a Lord of Makai.
To the girl's denial, the wisened beast merely taps his cane once as he strolls leisurely further within his throneroom. Shadowed eyes looking away from her for a time, "The truth is self-evident, Hotaru. You'll figure it out on your own. But that is neither here nor there.."
Stepping down from the dais with a careful, methodical movement. Murmuring quietly at the effort he adds, "That old pupil of mine sent you, did she not? If you wish something.." Focusing upon the girl once more, his head tilting forth, "You have my attention."

Not precisely the imposing, monolithic image of a Demon Lord one would suspect. But then, true evil rarely takes forms one could so easily classify. The Devil of Koga, in that case, is perhaps one of the rarer specimens of her ilk.
While the grandfatherly figure is not outwardly frightening.. nor is he warm. Intimidating in a vastly different way than mere muscle or strength of arms.
Intimidating in that.. Maou is no fool. A wicked wisdom radiates from the sagely being, a Buddhisatsva of the Underworld. Enlightened to all that is evil.

She is quiet as to his the almost patient rebuke, glancing up slowly as he steps down off of the raised platform. The kimino-clad girl adjusts her position, no longer kneeling on hands and knees but rather sitting back into a seated kneel, hands now resting in her lap as her head remains lowered outside of an occasional furtive upward glance. It's hard to take in the idea that the wizened old man is the lord of the world she has traversed; master over the souls of those who's deeds meritted being sent here.
"S-she did, yes. She wants something, but she would not say what. I... think it has to do with what I seek." Seconds pass - long, painful moments to reflect on what it is she wants. Marise came here seeking power. Power to destroy and murder and paid the price, perhaps without a second thought. She could ask for power too, could she not? But were it not for the price she cannot bear to consider, it would be worth it, no? To jump so far ahead rather than having to struggle and grow little by little. For a moment the temptation hangs in the air.
But that isn't what she wanted before coming here. She's never wished for a short cut before and she can't bear asking for one now. "I have not come to ask for power... only a cure to a problem holding me back from growing on my own. Marise-... the half that serves you here, she described it as water breaking through a damn that lacks the strength to keep it contained. I believe that is what is happening to me. An imbalance. I only wish to find a cure... before it keeps getting worse than it has been."
The request made - the power to survive, the strength to continue living and growing longer than she would be able to on her own with the imbalance that plagues her so.

The girl's words hang in the air for a long, uncomfortable moment. The Devil Lord does not respond immediately, only continuing his shadow-veiled stare in the diminutive lady's direction. Wither or not he's truly considering her words, Maou's expression does not betray.
Tap.
Casually moving along the floor, holding his cane in one hand as the other folds along the small of his back. "Then Marise has failed me."

The truth of his solemn expression? ..Annoyance.
How could the girl have seen all of what she has seen, pushed to the breaking point and confronted the depths of her true hatred? ... And throw away power when it was so readily at her fingertips. She could have been one of his greatest students in recent years. So much potential.
That buffoon of a woman botched the job. Clearly growing senile in her old age.
"Fine then. The answer you seek is thus.." Turning to face the girl in full, eyes narrowing, "I have already taught you my Satsujinken. I will leave that with you.. as a gift."
A harsh rap of his cane upon the surface of the wooden floor, "As for your 'imbalance', you have your mother to blame for that. She tried desperately to keep you from following your father's arts. She did not want you to walk the same path as your brother. She taught you the gentle fist to hold your power at bay, so it would not overwelm you. As it did your Father."

The stunning revelation continues to hang in the air, but Maou is not finished, not relenting in his words as he dictates his end of the bargain in exacting detail, "The Satsujinken is one half of the solution I give you. Using the technique will transform your power into its natural opposite. It will reverse the damage you've done to yourself.. and return your inner breath to an equilibrium. The cost..."

Maou's head tilts once again. This time the shadows over his eyes part, revealing them to be not merely shadows.. but bottomless pits. Voids within space and time itself, ".. You will relinquish a part of your heart. Surrendering a fragment of your conscience."
With something of a satisfied smirk beneath the volumes of his greying beard, "And I will give it to Marise." Turning then as he begins to pace back towards the dais, "That will make my displeasure known to her very clearly."

Slowly the truth unravels, line by line. At long last the answer to a mystery years in the telling. She was supposed to ask him for something more. Had she not seen a world where the mighty rule? Does it not mirror her own reality in many ways, where the powerful decide and the rest obey? Did she not learn at last the betrayal of many with regards to her? Aquaintances, friends, kin. How could she stay true to herself when faced with the realization that her father merely tolerated her in the later years?
It hadn't always been like that. She can remember that for at least half of her life they were all closer. Then the darker times came and her father had time only for one of his children. Unaware of her movement, Hotaru's left hand clasps at her right forearm, a shadowed expression in her eyes. Then the power that courses through her body is the same as her brother and father. Only, whereas her mother tried to temper her exposure to it, her brother was allowed to embrace the gift of their heritage, trained exclusively by their father.
"Poor Gato..." comes the whispered concern, "Maybe he doesn't even know. Now it's even more important that I find him." Her right hand clenches into a fist in her lap before she focuses again on the being who has exposed the truth to her. The strange thing is, she realizes slowly... she already knew these things in her heart. But she had never faced the hard truth head on, content to conceal such harsh realities behind naivete that seemed incongruous when considered against her normal perceptive nature.
The solution to her own plight is spoken next and Hotaru pauses. Surrendering a part of herself? A strange gift to the woman who seems to have desired that very thing from the moment she saw her. But then again, he specifically said a piece of her conscience - one carefully molded and nurtured by the tender guidance of a wise, loving mother. And as they say, the Devil is in the details.
"I-... what will happen to me if I do that?" asks the kneeling girl. "There is no other way?" What does it mean to lose a fragment of her conscience, a piece of her heart?

A cautionary tale oft repeated, never losing the truth within it.
Always be careful what you wish for. You may just get it.

"You know what will happen if you do not." Maou states evenly. His hands resting upon his cane now as he stands with his back turned to the girl. A red emblem emblazened on the back of his black kimono.. The word 'Truth'.

Alas. The Demon Lord's patience is not the only substance in short supply now.

The girl feels a sudden wave of dizziness coming over her, a weakness stemming from something above and beyond the exaustive beating she has already taken. Within the core of her chest.. Her heart.. Its strength waivering.
The three days.. the single heartbeat.. is almost over.

%T"You must decide now, Hotaru Futaba." Maou turns slowly. Long eyebrow arching as his beard shifts with his words, "Make your decision and leave my world... Or remain here forever."
If there is another option, the Devil King makes no offer. Whereas it is true, he cannot take what the girl will not willingly give. The Devil Lord also holds that same power. He needs not give that which he chooses not to, and that includes advice.

The true pain of decisions, the hardest decisions to make, are ones where there is no time to think. No time to deliberate or hesitate. No discourse or examinations. A choice must be made, and made immediately.
A choice that defines who Hotaru Futaba is and will be.

The instant in time can only be stretched for so long, and now it seems the brief interval in time is quickly coming to an end. Her red-orange eyes widen as she sits up a little straighter, her left hand releasing her right arm at last to rest over her heart.
For all her aspects, either good or bad, one thing remains consistant and that is her desperate desire to cling to life at almost any cost. She has at times been self-sacrificing to save others... but when it comes down to just her, and the options laid before her force her to chose an inevitable death or some less grim fate, the girl's mind is already made up. Thus it is that as her moments wane, she speaks with a certain resolve, swallowing her reluctance and fear of the unknown in order to claim the promised path, however frightening it may be. "I gratefully accept your offer... And the truths you have helped me understand..."
She bows her head and closes her eyes, praying within that her hesitation has not pushed herself beyond the hope of his assistence. The hand over her heart tightens as she squints her eyes tightly. No more time to think, reconsider, or stall. "Please..." comes the desperate plea when all other hope seems lost.

Pleas do not reach Maou's ears. Bargains.. however.
"Done." The elderly man answers her words. Tapping his cane in finality as the words are spoken.
No going back. The finality of that decision resonates throughout the girl even as the throneroom begins to dance about in her vision. Consciousness beginning to fade away as her flame-colored eyes grow heavier and heavier. The strength flowing from her heart as she feels a familiar sensation of falling into herself. A sensation she had felt once before.. Days ago.
The sensation of death.
Darkness washes over here and..


-at...

Hotaru awakens.
Beat.

The girl -gasps- for air. Convulsing once on the barren stone of the Hidden Village. The snake-blooded kimono clinging to her frail form, having collapsed upon the ground from the serpent toxin mere moments ago. A deep and horrible pain in her chest slowly begins to bleed away, regaining a little of the previous strength she had moments ago with every heartbeat. The hand.. her right hand.. continues to throb from the pain of the venom.. and the ecstasy of murder.

The ritual now complete, Marise rises swiftly to her feet. The Dark Maiden's lips twist into a cruel smile as she can feel the success.. Her hands moving to cover her chest as she doubles forwards. Breath quickening with every moment as she can feel it.. Feel the renewed life pulsing through her.
"..Keh.. Keh..Kya..KYA..HA HA! Your heart is now -MINE- girl! MINE!"
KYA HAA HAA HAAAAAAAAAA!

The insane woman throws her arms outwards, bending backwards as her demonic laughter -howls- throughout the vast cavern. The power of life once again pumping through her decrepid, quasi-living veins! Reveling in the return of strength.. stolen but hers now, none the less!

While Hotaru has never drown or even come close to it, she has to imagine that the experience she has next is somewhat like a drowning victim saved when only precious seconds of life remained before it would be too late. The inhalation of air is an experience that is both painful yet so relieving as if her lungs are tasting breathable air for the first time in far too long a period.
Her eyes, their natural blue at last, open suddenly, her palms planting against the floor, only to bring up an old pain of a recent wound in her right hand. She pushes herself up only half way, arms weak and trembling to support herself. Lifting her right hand from the ground she looks at the prick of the serpent's fangs with a certain detachment. That wound killed her... days ago, but now it merely throbs - a pain that will subside harmlessly with time. She's had worse.
Then there is that cackle echoing in the massive cavern of impossibly large size - the devil's glee at a prize obtained at long last. Her heart, Hotaru gasps, lifting her right hand to rest against her chest now, her left hand still hard at work propping her up. Uncertain eyes stray from the cave floor up to see the twisted exultation of Marise, the last of the Koga, experiencing her moment of certain victory.
"What have I done..." whispers the girl, the pallor in her face not solely the result of the poison that slew her. Her strength slowly returning, she sits up straighter, hands pressing against the floor of the cavern now, her right hand gingerly so, as if she means to test her ability to get to her feet now.

The Devil twirls around, fanged mouth wide as she laughs with complete abandon!
This is everything to her.. Proof that her plan is working! Not only has Koga survived its attempted extinction, but once again thrives! It has been so long, so long since she has felt power like this. Her meager strength, nearly doubled!

"KYAAA HAAAAA! Do you HEAR that Hanzo?! I RETURN! I will have -more- hearts! And soon, SOON! NOTHING will stand in my way! KYAHA NOTHING!" The Devil exalts, claws reaching to the cavern ceiling high above. Feeling ...
...Feeling...
"H..haa.." Mad laughter beginning to die away as Marise takes a step back. Her arms lowering as she notices something.. something unusual. A sensation so different.. so profound.. It cannot be..
"..What is.." The woman turns back to Hotaru and looks to her with her inhuman, golden eyes. For the first time holding an expression of utter confusion.. As glistening streaks continue to run down her pale cheeks.

"W..what.." Again mumbling as she quickly lifts her fingers to touch beneath her eyes. Collecting the cool, liquid substance and staring at her fingertips in mute horror. Hands slowly beginning to tremble as her purple lips weaken. Feet shifting through the pebbles, knocking over several extinguished candles and smudging the silvery chalk of the incanting pentagram. "..No.."

Beat.
"..This feeling.. No.." Inhuman eyes stare past her hands now as her most recent memories are slowly refocused. Witnessed through a new perspective. Poisoning that poor girl.. Kidnapping and torturing Hotaru.. Torturing that boy.. Deceiving that same girl.. Using that child.. Murdering in Thailand.. Death.. Death.. Death..
"NOOOOOO!!"
Hands clutching the Devil's head as she collapses to her knees. The emotion. The very thing she threw away.. A fragment of what she so purposefully tore from herself long ago.

What is the one thing, the only thing that could ever punish one whom is Queen of Hell?
Remorse.

And as Marise falls to her knees, Hotaru stands up behind her; body weak from having passed through incomprehensible trauma yet still possessing the strength to rise above the contemptible fiend in this, the final act of a saga spanning decades of tragedies across two seperate bloodlines.
"...he said..." the girl speaks, her voice soft in comparison to the shrieks that would bring the walls down upon them both were it possible. "... that by this you would know of his displeasure..." Her hands clasp together and the girl bows her head. This is what he meant, she realizes. This was not what Marise had hoped for.
"You wanted something else... something close, but not this. You thought I would fall. I... learned many things... that I already knew deep down inside. But that wasn't enough to change me from who I am." She shakes her head slowly, the bloodied princess realizing just exactly what Marise's failure was in the mind of Her God and Master. Again her right hand comes up to rest against her chest. There is a coldness inside her. Not one easily described or explained, but there all the same. A piece of her that will never be replaced.
She smiles faintly as she reflects upon the price. She mustn't forget that she's been through and the change wrought within. When next her temper flares will it be because a shread of patience is no longer there? Or perhaps a glimmer of understanding lost will keep her from saying a much needed word at the proper time or place? It's impossible, she realizes, to know just what effect her deal with the true devil will have on herself. But she will live on to find out and that, for right now, is all that matters to her.
But now what of the woman before her? Unable to watch, Hotaru turns away, one hand coming up to rest against her forehead, half concealing her closed eyes.

"Ho..Tar..U.."

The Devil of Koga cries out through a throat strangled by pain worse than any fist or weapon ever wielded by man. It is she who grovels now, collapsed on her knees with her brow touching the broken stone. Hands clutching at her head, filled with visions and remembered terrors of a thousand victims now having their judgement heard. A thousand pleas for mercy repeating now, and every one like a blade piercing her renewed spirit.
The price of a heart.. is to feel. The Devil had remembered that once.. Long ago.

Shoulders quaking, The woman's body wracked by horrible sobs and heaves of internal strife. The girl's words are heard.. comprehended on some level.
"..Lord..Maou..I.." Marise only begins now to realize where it went wrong.. How this could have happened as the girl spells it out as clear as day. The answer.. only makes the Devil wail anew in the deepest anguish.

In many ways, they were the same. Both young girls, prodigal children to evil families. Both given terrible choices and bitter lonliness. Marise thought she knew.. thought that if Hotaru was put before Lord Maou, as she did, the girl would make the same choices. The girl would let her hate rule her.. let her give her soul away.. Make her give away everything that was ever good about her in return for the power to destroy those who ever hurt her. That Hotaru would fall.. Just like Marise.

"..Ho..HOTARU!.." The woman screeches, a hand clutching at the broken ground hard enough to slash her fingers over the broken rocks. The mass of her tendrilous locks unleashed, crawling around the floor like a thousand writhing tendrils all mirroring her terrible, unfathomable agony.

But .. Hotaru did not fall. She found another way. Another answer. ... It was Marise who was the weak one. It was Marise who was defeated by the Court of Judgement.
"..I..I hate... Hate... Yo.."
The Devil chokes, "..I'm s..sorry.."
"NO! H.HATE..C..Yhu.."
"S..Sorr.."
"Ha...te.."

The woman falls apart, collapsing utterly beneath the weight of the thing she craved the most.. But could never stand to have.

Even now... even with all she knows of the woman who bartered away her better half in exchange for power... Hotaru feels sorry for the wrecked woman at her feet. With her dark ritual of unspeakable corruption she thought the girl would succumb to the temptation of power, that she would pay the same price gladly and sate the thirst of her own tainted blood.
Even now in her moment of triumph over the devilish fiend she feels sorrow; her own heart, diminished slightly, yet still more than capable of resonating with the pathos of the dark woman's plight. "I'm sorry too. Sorry that no hand can set back the clock to let you undo the horrific things you've done. But there is only the terrible price which must be paid. I..."
The girl looks around, eyes straying across the scattered remnants of the dark ritutal that was at once both a life saving success and a mind shattering failure. The toppled candles, flames drowning in their melting wax; the shifted sands, now scattered across the stone ground at the whims of the winds from the deep abyss, her own discared clothing, red with inocuous paint instead of the crimson victory that blemishes her present white attire.
"There is a girl that lies dying in the Kyokugen Dojo miles from here." Hotaru finally states, finding her voice again as she speaks to the ruined thing that may very well be behind comprehending now. "You must give me the antidote now." She speaks, her tone shifting from pained sympathy to strong, commanding. "And then..."
She looks over her shoulder, back through the village. She can't see it with only the light of the candles to judge by, but she knows it's there. The long, twisting, winding stair out of the cave. "And then I must go. There is little time left to save her. Don't let her voice join those who will forever cry out to you from the beyond."
The wind shifts slightly and the eternal song of the cave changes. It horrified her when it whispered to her at the outset of their endless journey into the pit. But now... it mourns. The last of the Koga - the only one who would be able to drown those who betrayed them in rivers of their own blood... has fallen. Or perhaps it is only the young girl's imagination at work. Maybe none of it was any more than that. She always was given to flights of fancy...

From the heart of an angel, is Marise given demons. It is all she can do to writhe pathetically, lost beneath the weight of her own grief. A grief she struggles to fight tooth and nail, even now.
The Devil does not want redemption. She doesn't want to feel sorry for what she has done.. Or pause for what she must do. What brand of monster Marise will become from this? ... Only time will tell. Hotaru had finally understood the depth of the woman's evil. An evil wrought by her own hand and willed into being for the sake of power. Perhaps it is providence.. a rekindling of faith, that in giving a piece of love to one's enemy.. can they only then be truly conquered.
"..T..Take it!!" The Devil rasps, her spasming hand reaching within her sleeve a moment and simply tossing a small steel vial to the ground ackwardly at the girl's feet. Oh, she wants revenge. She would love nothing more than to have that small girl expire on the Kyokugen Dojo floor. She had fully planned on letting it happen once this business was concluded, to further drive Hotaru to remember that life is neither fair.. nor do these mythical 'saviors' truly exist.
But the girl is right.. too right. The voices.. the pleas.. the tears.. she can't.. make them.. stop..

In the very pits of Makai, Hotaru has found a piece of herself. A realization of the truth she had always known. And few can stare truth in the eye, and not look away blinded.


Hours pass.


Hotaru finds herself in the backseat of the expensive rental. The morning hours are nearly extinguished as the afternoon sun threatens to rise high from the eastern sky. Nearly twenty hours ago from the beginning of the fateful encounter. A day ago.. another lifetime ago. The driver was bidden to take the girl back to Southtown, to the Kyokugen Dojo where she was left. Without delay. No explainations given, no questions asked.
The Devil? She did not go along for the ride. Staying amidst the mountains for now. She will not be conquered completely by this. How much more dangerous does an animal become.. when its wounded? Knowing the murderous strength of that creature, she will learn to overcome that tiny, fledgling voice in the back of her head. Learn how to live with the pain of regret to do what she must.

But now.. there is hesitation. Hope lingering there that perhaps.. just perhaps..

Just as Hotaru will wonder, what will be her price? What new demon did she embrace within her to save her soul? She can still feel that new power in her right fist.. Maou called it the Satsujinken. The Murdering Fist. Will that strength.. damn her soul for the price of her life?

More questions. Just as many new questions as old answers finally being resolved. But is that not the nature of being alive?
What else will fate have in store for Hotaru now?
At least, one fate is certain. Hotaru has saved one life, as she holds the vial of cure in her hand; a hand stronger now than ever before. Saved her own life. And perhaps.. openned the door to save another soul..

Her shoe-clad foot steps down on the gravel road that runs outside the front of the Kyokugen Dojo. She had to change clothing for the journey back. Once again subject to the real limitations of mortal anatomy, there was no way she could make the exhausting trek back out weighed down by the robes of a dead princess. The car drives off, leaving her behind with a plume of dust from which she steps, dressed in dirty blues and whites, forever ruined with red paint. She left everything behind on the floor of the cave, to forever rot, decay, and gather dust, alongside the bones of the Villagers of Koga. The only evidence of what she has gone through are the changes within her, the twin scabs in the soft tissue of her hand, and the small metal vial clutched carefully in her right hand.
There is commotion to be heard from within the dojo. Voices of concern and confusion. No doubt panic has set in as the day and night have gone by with no sign of an antidote to be provided for the sleeping child. There will be a lot to explain. Hotaru will be vague, of course. Certain things are impossible to explain after all, and even as the hours have passed since her awakening, the things she's been through have begin to smear in her mind, blurred by the light of day once outside of the cave. As the sedan rolls down the mountainside and she can see the trees, the sky, the cities below... it becomes harder and harder to believe that there exists a twisted mirror of all this. Perhaps it took going to that moment between heartbeats to truly find herself and unlock the truths she already knew.
Stepping foot onto the impressive concrete training patio that surrounds the squat, traditional building, Hotaru glances behind her, eyes seeing into the distance, far beyond the limits of the horizon. A far off mountain range, a secret stair, a shattered stone, a bottomless chasm, a wailing woman. If lucky, she will never have cause to see any of that ever again. But while good fortune has gotten her by in a few very close scrapes, life has a way of winding back around to pivotal places, moments of redefinition. She knows, somehow, she hasn't seen the last of the Devil of Koga.
For now though, there is a girl to attend to and a dear master and trusted mentors to relieve. A quiet, almost rueful smile tugs at the corner of her mouth and her eyes brim with unbeckoned tears as she steps toward the dojo. Abandoned and alone for years, it's true. But for now, at least, there are those who care.
And now, more than ever, she knows she must find her brother. Thoughts of reuniting her shattered family are gone, evaporated under the light of the brutal truth of her past. But now she knows that Gato labors beneath the 'gift' of their father's blood. Only he lives without the delicate balance their mother could have instilled. Now it is up to her to provide that balance for a sibling long lost. But first she has to discover him. Breathing in, enjoying the summer morning's air, Hotaru tightens her hand on the vial. Faith rekindled, strength renewed, the girl steps toward the dojo.

Log created on 19:23:26 07/21/2007 by Hotaru, and last modified on 03:57:53 07/31/2007.