Description: The second stage of the plan is laid out. All that remains is to execute it.
Broken glass crunches, as she enters the warehouse. Shards breaking into even smaller pieces, or grinding to dust.
But she doesn't notice, for her feet aren't touching the ground. No. She's not wearing any sort of normal footwear. What encounters the glass isn't her feet, but a set of tough renforced polyurethane discs. The wheels of her in-line skates. They roll over the uneven surface.
She's almost a shadow, barely visible in the dim light. Outside, the sun is fading, heading towards the evening dusk. And inside... the only illumination that penetrates is high above, near the ceiling of the cavernous storage building. A tiny row of windows, many shattered - the source of the glass literring the ground. Those that aren't are clouded, stained opaque from untold years of neglect.
It is a dark place, a dank place - filled with a distinctly unpleasant smell. Rot, decay, and the distinct stench of urine. It is filthy.
But Riko pays it no mind.
Most girls of her age would at least flinch. Wrinkle their noses. Have some offended reaction. Riko... she hardly seems to notice. She just continues rolling forward, gliding on her skates. She adjusts the strap of the backpack hanging from one shoulder, and chirps, in a cheerful voice:
"Seishirou-sama?"
He would have been off-put by any lesser response.
The empty void stretches before him, beams of thick syrup-like orange light from the setting sun crossing ancient dust floating in the air. He is not visible on the ground. This is because he is sitting on the edge of a scaffold at the far side of the storehouse, legs crossed in a position reminescent of the full lotus position.
His large arm cuffs are currently rolled up to his elbow, the securing bracers tightened there to keep them from sliding over his hands. His fingers twist, and his hands join in complex configuration. The handseals of ninjutsu. Rat. Dragon. Horse.
The floor of the building has been cleared. An ancient seal is painted there, long thick white lines shining in the fading light. It is the focus of his current incantation. Ryouhara's eyes widen as he makes the last handseal. And breathes outward. It is a slow, controlled motion, meant to recenter himself in times of great stress or pain. His eyes narrow coldly.
He hears Riko.
But there is no greeting from him.
The only audible sound was that single released breath.
She rolls to a halt at the edge of the seal - directly opposite from Seishirou. Coming to a perfect stop, mere inches from the massive sigal covering the warehouse interior. Riko crouches, peering at the light. She extends a hand, holding her fingers out. Not quite touching - not disturbing her sensei's work. But moving her hand, as if feeling for something.
Riko cocks her head to the side.
"Why, yes," she says, with only the mildest hint of sarcasm, "I'm glad to see you too."
A pause. Just barely long enough for Seishirou Ryouhara to respond, were he so inclined. Of course, he does not.
Riko replies anyway.
"Why," Riko says, "of course your lovely apprentice is fine. I'm so happy you asked."
She lowers her body, coming to rest upon the grimy floor. Her position not quite the same as her teacher's - more the poise of a demure girl settling into seiza. Knees together, back straight. Perfect and formal.
She smiles, her hands coming together, palms touching.
As expected, Ryouhara seems perfectly content to ignore his apprentice. The work is important. That last handseal is held for as long as he can manage it--a Tiger seal. As he does, the scaffold rattles with the tell-tale movements of things beyond and above normal recognition.
The line Riko sits so primly before seems to respond almost immediately, glowing with an eerie red light, giving context to the scene, flickering off of long-forgotten cans and scattered documents long-since yellowed by things better left to memory since past.
Those thick lines crawl over the lengths of sealing paint, tracing out a tell-tale insignia on the ground: The Ryouhara clan sigil that Seishirou is often fond of wearing on his back. Leaves swiling inside a circle. Only this time, the seal is not merely the size of a hand, but the size of a small building.
Riko's proximity to the seal--this much gains his attention. A sharp glance through one eye. This much causes him to move. He vaults over the edge of the scaffolding in one move and lands on the ground some feet below, just outside the insignia and not too far from the young student, though the effort to clear the seal in one jump causes the elder of the two ninja to crumple upon landing.
It is a momentary distraction.
Upper body limp against the effort, Seishirou stands.
With something that would be like a faint glare if one didn't know Seishirou better, he regards Riko. He asks one of the simpliest of questions. "Are you finished?"
Riko turns her head, looking up at her teacher, impassively. She nods, once.
Yes.
Then she reaches for her backpack, tugging on a zipper. She slips a hand inside. It emerges, clutching a small metal cylinder, beaded with droplets of moisture - condensation on a cold surface. She extends this towards Seishirou.
A can of soda. Sugary-sweet, with extra caffiene.
It is, after all, the duty of a subordinate to anticipate the needs of her superior.
Are you finished? That's what Seishirou asked.
To anyone else, the question would have seemed like a threat - an order for Riko to cease her teasing. To shut up.
But Riko? She knows him better.
"Phase one," she says, "complete. I've finished my evaluations - in addition to the two you handled personally. Not a large sample size, but their fight records - League, SNF and unofficial - tell us who they're capable of beating, and who's beaten them. Enough data to extrapolate, based on what we already know."
She remains on the floor, in seiza, looking up at the older ninja beside her.
"Note that Hotaru Futaba may be out of our skill-power index, though she fits the profile otherwise. She failed the cup test, but did well after. Improvisation."
Ryouhara pauses for a moment, looking to the glowing seal on the ground as the soda is proffered. There is a brief moment where he is more or less absolutely expressionless. Then his face twitches--a frown is displayed, before the soda is grudgingly accepted.
A bead of sweat is wiped from his brow, with some mild surprise. He tilts just so while opening the can with a loud, satisfying crack accompanied by the slow riling hiss of disturbed carbonation as he drinks long and amiably.
He listens, keeping an eye on the glowing seal and its slow, measured thrumming.
One grim nod is given. "Everyone fails the cup test.." Ryouhara remarks ruefully, without smiling. "We'll think about adding her anyway. This needs to be believable.. We'll use the information from those and the ones in the records already to create a flow book. We'll need it for the next phase."
He lowers the soda can, already halfway drained.
"I was a little surprised," he remarks, "Some of those children from Gedo are strong. Within expected measurements.. but..not everyone can withstand a type E." Seishirou trails off, reticent. He elects to change the subject. "Who else will we need to watch?"
"Well, Hakuya Suigetsu and Tenma Kiryuu, obviously - as you say, they're pretty good. And that other friend of theirs...what's his name, Kenji Ashima? The one from SNF? Mmn..."
Riko produces a second beverage can for herself, this one not carbonated, but rather a Korean brand of iced tea. She pops the tab and takes a sip, her movements minimal, controlled. She breaks eye contact from her mentor, looking at the massive seal emblazoned on the warehouse floor. Lines of power stretching across the aged concrete, curving into the distinctive pattern of the Ryouhara family crest. She studies it, her gaze following the form - despite the darkness quickly falling in the old building.
Without lifting her eyes, she continues, "Another team - Shooting Stars. Drake Vyril, alias "Domino", Arika Fade, Sarah Holland, Eva Manzetti. No baseline for Manzetti, but she's prob'ly 'round the same level as the others. Data against Vyril from an SNF match, evaluations of Fade and Holland."
Riko smiles. It's an odd little smile. There's a hint of real bemusement in there, but it's strangely tinged. And her eyes glint in the small amount of illumination in the warehouse.
"All three within range. Holland, in particular..."
Riko lifts one arm, turning it to show Seishirou. She points to a pair of thin barely-visible lines on her skin, just below her t-shirt sleeve. A faint trace of what were once wounds, but healing so well they aren't even leaving scars.
"...spare change."
She indicates another line.
"Keys."
"A shame we couldn't evaluate Kenji personally.." The ninja frowns as Riko draws her own tea, one hand slippnig to the bridge of his nose, resting thumb and index knuckle there, as if to manage some unknown degree of fatigue. Or possibly what is the onset of a sugar rush. Or possibly a side effect of both. Shortly thereafter, an eyebrow raises at Riko's injuries. However faint they may be, his eye still catches them as if they were red flags. "Hmn." Though still mildly distracted, to judge his tone, Seishirou is clearly surprised. "Spare change? .. Part of her style?"
Seishirou HAS heard of more bizarre styles. One of the original King of Fighters entrants used a basketball as a weapon.
Summoning some measure of willpower from God knows where, Seishirou regains some measure of control,sliding his free hand into a pocket. As if to dare fate, he takes another long drink, thoughtfully. "That group still thinks of you as a cultist, right?" He smirks. "We'll make use of that, later on."
Seishirou pauses.
"Of our test group.. not many defeated you. As we expected. But one... that Aislinn. She'll be able to contribute to our goals, but we'll have to proceed carefully," Seishirou guesses. "Even if she still couldn't predict the outcome of our first test, her strength seems to be in her perception of our way.."
"Aislinn Doyle," Riko murmurs, "she's either got tactical awareness...or paranoia."
Pause.
"Of course, for some, they're the same thing. She expected the unexpected. Fair enough."
Riko lifts her drink can to her lips, takes a small sip. Her tongue flicks out, licking away a stray bead of sweet liquid.
"Tyler Reed, the thief. Does not appear a strong fighter, objectively - but was able to track my assaults. And though I separated him from his usual weapon, he improvised a substitute. Defeated him easily...but winning or losing was never the point of these evaluation fights."
"Winning is subjective," Seishirou minds idly. "... So is losing."
The seal's lines remain bright as the last vestiges of the light die from the dusty space. The warehouse is primarily illuminated by the seal at this point, the deep red glow crawling across the ropy lines brightening to a paler orange. Though one may suspect otherwise, Seishirou seems particularly content to ignore the activities of it. Lit from below in that warm light, Seishirou continues.
"Did he?" Seishirou asks, perplexed. "..Not bad. We'll need several of the stronger tactical fighters to make full use of our prepared amenities. Tyler.. and that Nassir.. both are acceptable for our Storage Compartment match. As a passive-type arena, those types will make the best use of it. The weaker strategists... Aranha, among others.. we can place into other areas. We can force them into action in other ways."
Seishirou shrugs, after another draw from his soda. He is just shy of self-conscious about the motion.
Ultimately, it is only a brief concern. "It wouldn't be much of a 'show'..otherwise," he explains coldly. "Further, Nassir's group is pivotal to our plan. ... Or will be. As soon as I find that damned Commander Schugerg." From the grim set of his lip, he seems faintly annoyed by the idea.
He is distinctly unaccustomed to not being able to find people when he needs them.
"Rolento Schugerg," Riko says, "like all good terrorists - or freedom fighters - is elusive. If he were incapable, we would not be dealing with him. As it is, we have established contact with Nassir."
She takes another sip of her drink, then smirks faintly.
"Hey, we could always pass a message that way. Like -normal- people."
The way she says it...makes it sound like it's nearly unthinkable. Considering Seishirou and Riko's methods, it probably is.
Meanwhile, Riko watches the seal. Her eyes trace the shifting light, the subtle change in the old warehouse's energies. It's more than just illumination, more than just glowing lines etched upon the floor. It's a very real change in the spiritual currents of the room. And so she watches, with more than her eyes. Sensing and feeling.
Her teacher seems content to let it progress. But Riko, she -watches-. Her attention focused on the ritual's progress.
She continues speaking, however. Her voice soft, calm.
"As for the candidates...yes, some will need to be...encouraged to perform. Aranha in particular. He might not be tactically brilliant, but...he's an unusually mobile fighter. He uses terrain. The Pacific girl, Marisol, she's similar. Not a thinker, not a planner, but could do well if forced to react."
She sits in seiza, resting upon the floor, her fingers wrapped around the drink can. Studying the seal.
"Her teammates, the Pacific Resistance, they're called, seem similar. Given the planned setting for the event, that Preston should be...interesting..."
"Preston will... be a challenge," Seishirou admits, still slightly discomfited, this time for different reasons. "We'll need our best scenarios to keep him on his toes. Marisol.. hm. Overall, the foreigners in general will need to be positioned carefully. They tend," Seishirou points out placidly, "to cause the most trouble if left unchecked. Managing contingency and information will overall determine the success of the plan. If we can convince Soma to join..."
Seishirou trails off there, as if preoccupied by several thoughts.
His voice is also calm, but the measured tone of the standing youth seems darker, colder than that of his student. Rueful, he continues. "Rolento's not the only one. Of our other reviews, we did have several of interest. I've been having trouble locating some of them. You too have been making use of the data indexes, I hope." It is hardly a question. After investing years of his life in putting them together, it is nothing short of an... expectation.
It isn't a question. And Riko knows it isn't one. It's more than mere rhethoric, too - something she understands fully. There's a reason why Riko sought out Seishirou Ryouhara to be her teacher.
There aren't many people who think the way he does. The way she does. They way /they/ do.
Riko doesn't reply verbally. There isn't any need. She just inclines his head, a subtle motion. She makes a small sound of affirmation.
"I managed to locate Lykaio. Not difficult - he has recently returned to Southtown, though I don't know where he's been the past few months. His powers are as we expected; I do not see anything unusual there. His psychological profile, however...our earlier data was incomplete. There is more to him than a God complex. He appears genuinely concerned about the well-being of his followers. Above all. An idealist."
She moves her hands, swirling the liquid of her drink can. She continues to trace the patterns of light cast by the seal, the massive formation covering the floor of the ancient building.
"Jiro...I traced Jiro's approximate location. But he can't be considered an active combatant. He's training to be a /policeman/. Of all things."
Riko snorts.
"His sister, Mimiru Kasagi. Similarly inactive. Though a friend of hers, Himeko Kashiwagi, has become active as a fighter. Unusual case, she showed no talent until less than three months ago. And unusual chi..."
That much carries Seishirou's attention. After all, being mistaken about things is, at least for Ryouara, notable cause for concern. Among other things. "Idealism and religion are a volatile mix to have in an individual. We'll update his file, and include him in the Flow book. His dedication may render him a nonissue, but such a psychology is going to be difficult to predict. We'll be able to influence it... but it would be better not to have to."
Seishirou frowns. "A policeman?" .. He shrugs, after a moment of dwelling on it. His response is somewhat more solemn, if only because he simply doesn't care, past a certain point. "If that's the path he chose.. to each their own."
The next subject, the concept of unusual chi, is actually something that gains more interest from Seishirou. He lifts the can once last, draining what's left from it. He spends the rest of that spare moment buffing the can with a soft cloth from the satchel at his back. "Unusual chi," he echoes, "Will eventually be the subject of our combined studies after our goals. Though the Kasagi family has always traditionally sided with the abstract, we'll watch the other elements in our files closely. Sadly, we won't be able to secure information from several. Serim has all but disappeared. Matter manipulation is pretty rare, and has applications and strengths similar to even our strongest ninjutsu."
Seishirou pauses.
He makes a face. "Kanji has been gone for some time. It would almost be... a blessing if he retired. A genius. But I'm not wasting my time updating the contingency plans for zombie swarm scenarios again..." Subject change. "Ingrid Holmann also expresses an unusual chi. But she.. is still active, I believe."
"She is," Riko confirms, "but I am unsure whether how she will factor into our plans. Again, the element of mind, motivation. She participates in the Neo League, in SNF - but she is ultimately a driven girl. Woman. She has an agenda."
A frown crosses Riko's face, her brow furrowing slightly. Her lip twitches. There's a pause, as she lifts her own beverage can, takes another small drink.
"Buuuut," Riko continues, with a faint shift in tone, "it's kinda long term, so who can tell? Well. Besides us."
Riko snorts.
"Alma Towazu has similar powers, but he's...far above our targeted skill range. And too high profile. Although...there's also Kelvin. 'course, he's so lazy he probably won't turn up even if we /tried/ to use him."
"Kelvin?"
A rare occaision, Seishirou looks genuinely confused.
".. Oh! Right.. him."
Abruptly as if in decision, Seishirou flicks the carefully cleaned can over his shoulder, leaving it to bounce across the swept concrete and land unceremoniously in some trash in the corner, the ultimate fate of the trash that had been cleared off the floor to make room for the massive sigil, now pulsing, on the grounds.
"You're right," he says, of no exact subject. "Drive can be a dangerous weapon. The lack of it," Seishirou reasons, "is weakness and strength in one. People with drive can be predicted. Can be controlled. But those who want nothing cannot naturally be enticed."
Shifting to more amiably support what little weight he has, the ninja folds his arms. "There are a few newer faces amongst the House of Strolheim that we'll need to accomodate. Our supreme goals will depend on the House's favor, and I'll be leaving for Strolheim as soon as I've recovered my strength... There's the whaler. Obviously. And... Tessa, I believe..?"
The Ryouhara ninja settles, as if to catch his breath.
"Richard Mobey and Tessa Gallo," Riko says, "though if we involve them, we gotta be careful. I mean, if we wanna deal with the House..."
She trails off, giving a small shrug. It doesn't need to be said. Seishirou knows it just as well as she does. More, in fact, given that it's -his- plan.
He's the magician. Riko's just the lovely assistant.
She tips her head back, emptying the last of her drink down her throat. Draining the can to the dregs. She wipes an errant spot of beverage away from her mouth, with the back of a hand.
"They're not the only organization. That new underground outfit, 'Blackjack'. Their people are mostly within our index range. Probably not worthy of consideration, though. Elle, Naerose, Tran... given what we know of them, not a major threat."
"There is only one outcome for this plan that will result in their deaths," Seishirou responds, quickly. "That outcome would be total failure." The tone he uses is one that... suggests this to be simply inconceivable. He is used to failure. But total failure..that is, failure without exception or compensation, is something Seishirou experiences rarely and condones even less.
"Besides..." Seishirou opens a hand, in reasoning.
".. To disregard them would be more of an insult to the House than to kill them."
Seishirou snorts at the latter. "I would've been wrong to hope that as a new group they could find better than Delphine and that.. thing. Elle had some promise, but if she's going to surround herself with idiots, she's of no concern. Their only use would be to keep our manifest from appearing suspect. We'd just about be better off considering that monk.." What was his name? Frei?
"Even Uzaruto would be a better inclusion." Frown. Wince. "Nevermind, he might be too strong now." He considers. "Nemura should have died by now... But if his blade is still sharp, he's too much of a threat. Either way. Both know too much to be useful to our immediate goals."
Riko's brows raise, both arching. She turns away from the seal, craning her neck to look at her mentor. She gives the older ninja a faintly incredulous look. "Daisuke? Definitely not - hell, even Tora. Anyone from our village... too close to home, Seishirou-/sama/."
She puts particular stress on the honourific, sarcasm dripping from her tone. Riko gestures with the empty drink can and shakes her head incredulously, emphasising the statement. Definitely no.
"They're familiar with your techniques. At the very least, they can recognize our Ninkoujutsu. It's not their strength, it's what they know. For the same reason, that 'friend' of yours, that girl, Talia - she knows too much."
Riko idly flips the can round, holding it between her palms.
"The other one...Frei...he's good with chi. But not our kind. He may be possible."
She nods, considering it.
"But if we're talking monks and spiritualists, there's that guy, Kaiwei. Old for a 'rookie' fighter. He's either a very strong sensitive. Or insane. Or both."
Ryouhara squints at his student closely for a time.
"I suppose your judgment is accurate enough," he admits grudgingly, "We can afford intelligence breaches, but not of the fashion that other Leaf ninja would be capable of. Not while trying to do our work. It is also for that reason that Rock Howard, Sakura Kasugano, Acacia Gillespie and Megumi Andou will not be suitable for inclusion."
Rock was one of the few that could actively respond to his tactics as he presented him, and as the first person Seishirou fought in the outside world.. no, definitely too risky. Daisuke, similar. Tora would probably ruin his plans without even thinking.
Of Kaiwei, Seishirou nods briskly. "He is useful. Overall, spiritualists will contribute well to our goal, managed properly. Gabriel Kai, perhaps, though I have my doubts. Weaponists, as a technical favorite, are of equal importance. Though Daisuke and other members of our former village are not viable.. the schools will provide amiably. Ichiro, Taiyo's lacrosse boy, and Seijyun High's Sada. From my time in Seijyun, she seems to have a reputation as a friendly eccentric. Her kusari-gama will be perfect for that group of selections. Ichiro might be tough enough to handle some of the Gedo students. That will contribute to the competitive spirit of the event. If we can create a war amongst the schools on board, it will become a distraction for everyone in their age bracket.."
"Speaking of age," Seishirou mentions, scratching a temple. "That kind of language isn't thought right for a girl your age. Don't waste it carelessly," he orders, unphased.
"Hai, hai, Seishirou-sama."
Her voice is excessively high, pitched in a girlish soprano. Riko hops to her feet, skate wheels landing on the cold concrete floor. She clapses her hands together and bows, formally, apologetically. The only thing breaking the image is the empty drink can, still held between her palms.
She holds the pose for a few heartbeats, before looking up, grinning impishly.
Then she straightens. She tosses the can in the air, and absently bats it away. It rockets through the air, travelling parallel to the ground. Until it slams into the far wall of the warehouse, with enough force that it flattens into a perfect metal disc.
Riko's tone grows serious.
"Within this age bracket, there's also Shinobu and Mizuki. Shinobu's too random. She's decent in a fight, but the -way- she fights... no. Mizuki's the opposite. Ancient arts, highly ritualized form. Though Mizuki could be...encouraged, I suppose."
Riko tilts her head, glancing sideways. She peers at the massive ritual seal stretching across the floor, squinting at the light eminating from the chi-infused lines.
"-Outside- that age bracket...the boxer, Alan. 25 years old, professional fighter. Good performances on SNF. He may be worth considering."
Ryouhara's expression quirks at Riko's display of obsequience. A faint smile, but a more or less sterile one. Nothing more to color his attitude. After some thought on it, he finally concedes. "I suppose it's only fair.." He quietly slides sections of bamboo from the satchel at his back, joining carefully cut sections and inner wooden plug links together with a soft click.
"After all, exclusivity beyond control is only useful as a facade.."
He finishes with a short length of bamboo, about as high as his hip. It is that length that he leans on, shifting his weight there. At this, he finally relaxes, taking a few steps until he is as close to the thrumming symbol as Riko was. A moment's worth of consideration flicks across the symbol. From there, to the metal disc, its echo swallowed by the cavernous urban space. "We'll work more on your energy control later," he decides, finally.
He returns to the thought at hand. "Of course, Alan's record speaks for itself. Tony Styles is another example of a solid record... While in years past I might have considered including him as an element as well.. he's likely too volatile now." He snorts.
As Seishirou stands near the sigil, that glowing symbol begins to pulse more rapidly, the ground beginning to emit faintly perceptible thumps, not dissimilar in frequency and force to the heartbeat of a young child. It remains the subject of an absent interest for mere moments, Seishirou turning away to face Riko again.
Riko inclines her head, a far more smaller and more elegant movement than her mocking bow. Because this time, it's genuine. Seishirou's command of chi is superior to hers. That is why he is the master, and she the student. When she lifts her eyes, they're narrowed, tracking the patterns of light blazing from the ground. And with her other senses, she feels the change. The shift, the pulse.
"Volatile, that's always a problem. That Jaeger, whatever he is...and others as well. If we can't control them..."
Riko purses her lips, scowling.
She only frowns for a moment, though. Just a moment. The dark look on her face is very quickly replaced by her trademark grin, bright and sunny.
"Well. There's more candidates, of course. I went through the files like you asked, I got thirty-two more flagged. I doubt we'll have /problems/ assembling a decent field."
She seems cheered by the thought.
Then she blinks, once. Cocking a thumb, she points towards the ritual seal upon the warehouse floor.
"Now?"
In that much, he is satisfied.
Thinking, Seishirou is silent for a time.
Then, to the last, "No."
"We'll have enough to ensure the right number and type in attendance. They will be tempted. By their drive, or our funding. The rest is simple management of details. Above all.."
This time, his expression is a true darkness, his eyes thin slits of deep concentration as he leans on his makeshift cane. "'He' will be needed aboard the ship. That is a priority. Our actions in Rayong were only to ensure the realization of this goal. Shadaloo.. snrk." Idiots. But powerful ones. They can consider his gift to them tithe. He considers it thanks. A thought passes. "It was excellent timing."
He continues, this time slightly more to the point. "This operation will be the greatest test of your ability. You'll need calculative skill vastly beyond that of all assembled. Skill. Execution. And.. timing. The difference between minutes, seconds..." Pause. "...and tenths of a second."
The heartbeat stops, swelling. There an audible pop at the very end of Seishirou's last word, the symbol glowing a bright white, bathing the room in almost daylight-bright light. A hiss fills the room accompanied by the scent of burning dust as the symbol begins to steam.
"Anything else will result in your failure." Ryouhara turns, beginning to slowly move towards the exit, leaning on the makeshift cane. As he moves, he continues. "You know as well as I do.. success of this operation is central to our long term goals, beyond its immediate yield. Once Jinchuu is realized, there will no longer be anything impeding us."
"It means.. potential without limit," he concludes.
Riko pivots, the wheels of her skates moving over the floor. She follows her teacher, gliding in his wake. Moving like a ghost through the thick clouds of smoke filling the warehouse, silhouetted against the blinding light.
"Hai," she says again, in Japanese. A single sound, a single word, a simple acknowledgement.
Nothing more needs to be said.
Log created on 16:15:53 08/01/2007 by Prime, and last modified on 02:24:37 08/02/2007.