Description: Following rumors and word of mouth hype, Hotaru seeks out the Suiryuu in order to satisfy her curiosity. Encountering Riko, she gets a few answers and a lot more questions. She does have a chance to meet Mister R.B., however, one of the most chi-charged people she's ever met!
The dragon lies still. Resting upon the waters of the bay. The coming and going of the strange ship has been the stuff of rumor, tales circulating throughout the harbor of Southtown. Stories of a ship emerging from mist, sliding silently to dock. Several times has it made port today, in different locations down the waterfront. To pick up or meet with competitors in the tournament, the so-called "Agents of Jinchuu".
And now it is here again. The vessel berthed in a cargo district of the harbor, against a dock surrounded by warehouses and container lots. As the sun sinks down the horizon, the great ship is dark, quiet.
Waiting.
The upcoming Jinchuu event has hardly been shrouded in absolute secrecy. There were the public advertisements for a while the week before things were to fire up. Though the invitations that went out were done under the covertness of darkness and most of the agents were very tight lipped about their opportunity to participate in the upcoming tournament, Hotaru has encountered a couple people that were more willing to talk about Jinchuu - sometimes in the most unlikely of places.
Kyle Travers had given her enough to go on with regards to where and when. When she spoke with him in Metro Park, he had said he was coming to participate in the tournament and that in order to do so, he would be flying to Southtown. Given that information, it was only a matter of keeping her ear open for any other tidbits that would show her where to go.
She finally put everything together. Too late to wander into the gathering of Jinchuu agents the night of the opening ceremony, Hotaru has spent a fair amount of the afternoon near the ports of Southtown. She doesn't really fit in there too well, but she also keeps her distance from those who seemed like they might be trouble. Though there were a couple of 'incidents' during the afternoon, it became pretty clear that in spite her harmless appearance, it was going to take more than a couple of ne'erdowells to really give the girl any trouble and she managed to be left alone for the most part.
Then it just came down to being lucky. Traversing up and down the shore of Southtown, at long last she ends up at the right dock at the right time. Stepping out of a maze built of stacked cargo containers, Hotaru's eyes come to rest on the vessel itself. "So it's true," she muses, speaking out loud as if to break the thick silence that seems to hang in the air. The shadows grow long as the small fighter approaches, glancing around warily. No one seems to be about. But something tells her that's certainly not the case. And should she even be here? Running out of facts, the girl cautiously crosses over into the world of rumor and suspicion, for that's all she has to go on now.
The ship lies silent. The vessel dark, lights extinguished. The only illumination is the fading sun against its sharp prow, as day fades into evening. There are no signs of life, there is no motion on deck. There is only the ship, sitting quiet in its berth. But it is clearly not a normal vessel, not by any stretch of the imagination. A modern seagoing craft, and yet possessed of archaic rigging - or at least a complex array that resembles masts. Panels and sigals etched to its flanks. And as the rays of the setting sun play across the hull, the runic seals almost seem to glow.
And then, as Hotaru draws nearer...
There is no sound, simply movement. A metal platform extends from the ship's deck, descending at an angle, until it makes contact with the concrete pier - a high tech boarding plank, bridging the space between the vessel and the shore.
Not really a seafaring girl by any means, there are still a number of basic details that any educated person would be able to spot. The armored hull is a strange sight. Years ago her family had toured a large American battleship while it lay anchor in the port. That ship awestruck the girl. This vessel mystifies.
The patterns on the outside of the ship are glanced over now that she has drawn nearer. They remind her of a rune-covered wall in a dark place she fought not so long ago as to be forgotten. "Hnn."
And then comes the metal platform extends from the side of the mystic watercraft, gliding into place with perhaps well oiled silence. Hotaru stands at the lip of the plank for a long moment, the conflict easy to read in her eyes. To go on enjoying the safety of the shore and walk away with merely the chance to have seen the strange boat so many have mentioned up close? Or venture aboard, accepting the plank as a silent invitation to take that chance to see even more? Her heart races as she glances behind her, the harbor falling dark as shadows stretch out from tall warehouses and man-made cliffs of cargo. She looks forward again and takes a step toward the metal plank... foot coming down... and then the girl literally sprints, intending to make it to the boat itself in a flash, even leaping the last few yards to make it aboard.
She certainly seems easily spooked at the moment, clearly paranoid about something!
Paranoia? Or merely prudence?
But no - there isn't any trap. The deck is solid beneath Hotaru's feet, as she touches down on the main deck of the ship. Metal panels ringing with the impact. For a moment, that's all the sound there is. For a moment...
...and then, there's the faint rhythm of hands touching. Clapping. The sound of applause.
A slim figure steps out from the shadows, emerging from behind one of the large archaic cannons arrayed on the deck. A girl dressed in dark colours, long sleeves, pants, a headband keeping her hair in check... and a pair of stereo headphones round her neck, in-line skates upon her feet.
Riko Koganei.
She grins.
Applauds.
Feet touch down on the deck and the girl slides to a stop. Her brief burst of activity transitioning just as suddenly into cautious silence outside of a soft exhale as she listens to the sound of the impact echo briefly then vanish. Standing up straight after a moment, two wary glances are cast back and forth, taking in her surroundings yet somehow missing the presence of another hidden where the shadows lay just so as to conceal her perfectly.
The clapping brings her attention back to that point. It's the other sound that makes her smile faintly, though. Gradually becoming familiar with the sound of inline skates on a variety of surfaces, and now she's introduced to how they sound against metal plating.
"I knew it," comes the girl's response as Riko moves out of the shadows. One hand moves to rest at her hip, her head canting to the side slightly. "I had a feeling this was the tournament you gave me so much trouble over." A step forward is taken, the hand at her hip slipping to rest behind her back. "So you and that Seishirou guy really did put all this together... It's quite the sight."
"Well," Riko replies, glibly, "the Suiryuu is a /ninja/ ship, so maybe she's quite /not/ the sight."
She lifts a hand, waving it slowly in front of her eyes.
Then she peers through a gap in her fingers, staring at Hotaru. The smile on Riko's face widens, showing a pearly-white gleam of teeth, almost reflecting light from the setting sun. Her eyes, certainly, nearly gleam.
She rolls forward just a little more, the wheels of her skates moving over the deck, before she comes to rest, braking, several feet from Hotaru. Her back towards the one massive sigal etched upon the deck, near the ship's prow - the insignia of the Ryouhara, Seishirou's clan.
"Sorry we didn't send an invitation," Riko continues, twisting her hand in a little flourishing gesture, "but we figured you were a bit -too- strong for the regular competition..."
Riko pouts.
The reply causes Hotaru to ponder for a moment, glancing around her as if considering the smaller girl's words. "Well, I imagine there is a lot more to it than I can tell just by looking, if that's what you mean. After all. I found it." Or was shown it. The difference, subtle but certainly important.
As Riko scoots closer, Hotaru holds her ground. Some of the wariness from before has faded. She didn't come here to fight, and she suspects that Riko isn't looking to pick one either. Then again, she's /always/ grinning like that, so it's hard to say for certain.
"Yeah?" The girl lifts her right hand, waving it once in almost a dismissive gesture. "That's all right." Someone else told her that was likely the reason she found no kunai skewered invitation on the Kyokugen Dojo wall. "I figured that I must have handled you a bit too well the last time you came around to cause trouble."
There is a bit of a shrug and a smile that, while faint, is a little teasing when accompanied by the sparkle in her eyes. "I understand how it goes." It does make her curious about those who /did/ get invitations though. She had heard a lot of student types that she considered to be peers for the most part were in the mix.
But the girl is no stranger to brackets among fighters. Fansites rank the various fighters according to their own made up systems. Ratios, tiers, categories, groups, stratums... the methods of trying to group fighters together into equal skill sets are varied as are the fans themselves. However it is that these strange ninja decided to rank her compared to the other participants she can only begin to guess. But it's fun to think that it's just because she chased Riko off last time they met.
Riko doesn't seem particularly offended by the statement. It is, after all, objectively true - she DID go around to "cause trouble". And Hotaru DID handle her very well. All that's fact. Indisputable.
She does, though, give a little frown, giving Hotaru a vaguely admonishing look. Not one of wounded pride, but that of a teacher lecturing a student, a professional correcting a grave misconception. The little ninja girl waggles a finger, to and fro, no-no-no.
"Tsk," Riko chides, "that's not the point. Welp, maybe a -little-, but you gotta look at the BIG picture."
Riko waves her arms, expansively, indicating the length and breadth of the great ship.
"This is the people's vessel, that of the fighting proletariat!"
Riko nods solemnly.
"I think," she says, with perfect seriousness, "you're bourgeoisie."
Riko taps her chin.
"Or possibly petite bourgeoisie, though I guess that depends if you follow the class divisions laid out in Marx's earlier works, or his later collaboration with Engels..."
At the tsk, Hotaru's attention is brought back to Riko, eyes focusing on hers, faint smile fading a little as she listens... to the assault of the French words! "Nani?" The best she can make of it is that she just got called petite by a girl that certainly matches that description herself.
Hotaru squints a little, one eye more narrow than the other as she tries to connect the words with vague history lessons floating around in her head. "The people's vessel, huh?" she replies, putting together some of the intended meaning from context, which means that bourgeoisie means... well, she's at a different echelon than what they were looking for.
"So are you doing all this for the people?" she asks, a half shrug and sweep of her hand used to gesture toward the boat in general. "Jinchuu. Judgement? Why are you bringing so many... proletariats together?" She turns to the side, hand reaching out to rest against a rail lightly. "I guess it is a chance to prove themselves in the eyes of the world. Everyone deserves a chance."
She glances sideways toward Riko again, that faint smile from before back again. "Seems awefully charitable for a secretive ninja clan." Her eyes stray from off Riko to the seal behind her. The swirling leaves around a vortex.
Riko hops onto one of the large wooden crates strewn around the deck, reclining on the surface. Stretching her arms out, spine curving, almost catlike. She blinks at Hotaru, smirking as the other girl leans against the railing. Riko lifts her hand again, making another dramatic gesture, fingers pointing towards the sky.
"My dear Miss Futaba," Riko drawls, "you're so -very- suspicious. Aren't we manipulative amoral mercenary ninja allowed to be...altruistic once in a while?"
"Just like everyone deserves their chance at incredible fame, I suppose even someone like you has a chance to do something for others solely for the purpose of being generous." The tone of her voice is neutral at first, before she turns around completely and leans her back lightly against the rail, having already tested it with her hand as if even suspicious that it wouldn't hold if she were to put her weight against it.
"Doesn't mean I have to believe it. Dealing with you a couple of times has already made me a lot more cautious about appearances... And I haven't even met this Seishirou you've talked about. Something tells me that I'd only find even more reason to be suspicious."
"But you're not going to tell me. I know that." the girl laughs lightly. It took several long, gruelling minutes of fighting her last time just to get her to even mention the tournament in the first place. Digging anything else out of Riko would be like trying to claw through a castle wall with nothing but her fingers. Sure, given enough time and sacrificing her poor extremities, she might be able to do it eventually. But by then, someone would have probably just opened the gate anyway.
"Do you? Am I?"
Riko pulls her legs fully onto her perch, crossing them atop the crate. She angles her torso forward, slightly, so she can peer directly at Hotaru. Making eye contact. Her hands, always in motion, come together now, linking beneath her head. She rests her chin on her interlaced fingers.
"Never assume," she says, with a distinct undercurrent of mirth, "never assume."
Her smile grows impish.
"Why," Riko continues, "maybe we -counted- on your being here, maybe you're crucial to our plans! And maybe..."
Her voice drops low.
"...this is truly a ship of honor and justice, for avenging that which is past, and assuring a future that should be."
She nods, solemnly.
At the caution to never assume, Hotaru leans her head to the side slightly. "Nn," she agrees. "That's good advice." she allows, her tone guarded. She looks a little uneasy at the idea that her presence here was something to be counted on.
They could just be words. Why, Riko could say that to every last person who ventures aboard this vessel - either easily as she did or by fighting their way against a foe of equal or superior ability only to flop onto the deck half dead. And then Riko would be standing right there as the collapse, blood pouring out of their mouths, and greeting them with a cheery 'We counted on you being here, you're crucial!'
Sure, anyone could say that. Doesn't make it so. But maybe it is. And that's what leaves the girl looking uncertain.
"Maybe that's exactly what it is," Hotaru replies, standing up straight now, no longer leaning against the rail. "Or maybe it's all a big set up. A trap of some kind. Avenging something is rarely done without someone or something to avenge against." She averts her eyes to take in the rune-sketched walls of the boat for a long, thoughtful moment. "From what little I know about you? I guess I'd bet on the later."
"Oh," Riko says, "does it -have- to be one or the other?"
The corners of her mouth crinkle, her eyes go wide, as she flashes her very best smile, broad and sunshiny. Upon her perch, atop the packing crate, she peers at Hotaru, her body language open, friendly, guileless. Although there is, of course, perhaps /too/ much brightness in that smile. Dazzling like a flash bulb.
She continues, in that overly cheerful voice.
"I mean, y'know, maybe it -is- a setup, but that don't mean it isn't a good and moral one! And maybe everyone's being manipulated and stuff, but that doesn't mean the cash prize for this tourney ain't real...and it is, let me tell ya..."
Riko unlaces her hands, spreads them, and nods vigorously.
"It is."
The lines burned throughout the Suiryuu suddenly begin to wink and flare in the immediate area, waves of it emanating from a central point apparently just around a corner. This means one of two things: Someone is hurling waves of power left and right... or the only person with said power crackling around him at all times is approaching. God help us all, because he probably won't just walk by silently.
"Now /that/ is good to hear, because let me tell you, I really like money."
Half-smoked cigarette burning away in his lips, Alan R. B. casually bears down on the two girls engaged in furtive conversation, the mystic lines of the Suiryuu reacting to his very presence, the electricity crackling around his skin constantly. It's impossible to miss him - it's like a wall of light with a smirk on it.
"I had my doubts, y'know, gotta say. Tricky language, maybe this 'great value' is the power of brotherhood we have all learned, but I was holding out for that fine, fine cash, and hey! There we go."
Grinning, Alan claps his hands and rubs them together. It causes tiny, harmless sparks to fly everywhere. He gives a tiny, mocking bow of the head. "Ladies."
At Riko's question, Hotaru grimaces a little. Yeah, it doesn't have to be one or the other. But that only makes it worse. Grr! "I guess I just find it hard to believe that the entire point of this," she gestures toward the boat again, clearly indicating more than simply the vessel docked at the harbor, "is to simply give away a lot of money." She shakes her head slowly, "And even if it was, you've gone to great lengths with this setup. The invitations, the advertising, this yacht... I've never seen anything like it."
But then along comes a third and the girl's eyes come to rest on Alan. The energy that crackles over him is observed thoughtfully, as well as his attire and demeanor. Nope. Not a ninja. Not Seishirou. His words back that assessment up - a participant. One with his heart set on the money promised the victor. Well, incredibly huge cash prizes do bring out all types, after all.
She bows her head slightly toward him in response to his own, looking a lot more sincere for the gesture. "Hello," she replies faintly. She's never had the, er, pleasure of meeting the boxer before. "I guess you're one of the ones who made it aboard." she speaks with a faint smile then. She's picked up the terms of the first round of matches. Though some in her circles are starting to whisper about those that didn't seem to make it this far. Where /is/ Hinata?
Where indeed. There's certainly been a lot of chaos surrounding this first round. To get aboard the ship. Truly a matter of sink or swim. In some cases, literally. While Riko might claim her motives aren't...necessarily bad, she certainly doesn't seem to have a great deal of sympathy for those who've fallen by the wayside in the cutthroat atmosphere of the first round. An atmosphere that she and Seishirou have only /encouraged/.
And so it is that she turns, meeting the lightning-charged fighter with a nod and grin of her own.
"Ah," she murmurs, "Mister Alan. Glad you could...make it."
The last two words are spoken with a particular knowing smile.
"Rest assured," she continues, "there's real and definite financial recompense. We wouldn't mislead you...about something like /that/."
Which of course leaves open the implication they might well mislead the tourney participants about /other/ things - but that's besides the point. Not important.
She turns back to Hotaru, grinning.
"Nor you."
"Alan or Mister R. B.. One of the two, don't go fusin' 'em, can get a poor boy confused." Alan lifts his hand to his mouth to nip his thumbnail, not a movement of anxiousness or nerves, but a careful, precise grooming, one that brings a fresh wave of tiny lightnings, another spray of light through the Suiryuu. "How about that light show, huh? Good thing I ain't planning on sneaking around or nothing." His attention is drawn to Hotaru, who is busy being a nice girl.
Elsewhere, a hypothetical pair of chubby cops in front of surveillance monitors take bets on how long it'll take Alan to provoke Hotaru into kicking him in the junk.
He glances her up and down. She's certainly cute, though whether or not she's /legal/ is... well. Alan's come to realize he's just a few years too late to the game for that side of things. "Alan R. B. Don't ask what it stands for." A look of some kind crosses his face at some of Riko's words. He was technically still concious when he fell off of the conveyor onto the ship, and he did manage to stand back up - for a few moments before hitting his head and going under for an hour.
The girl is given a number of ways to address Alan right off the bat. Mister Alan, courtesy of Riko, Alan, Mister R.B., Alan R.B. ... She smiles a little as he cracks the joke about moving around stealthily. She didn't miss the shifting lights in the rune-covered walls as he walked by though the connection to the small sparks of lightning that crackle over him, accentuating his every move.
"Mister R.B. then," the girl finally settles on the polite option he offered. The young fighter misses a lot of his inspection of her as she focuses back on Riko, looking a little confused. "Excuse me," she states, a bit of insistence in her tone, "What did you mean by that? I'm not here for the prize money." Which means that if Alan gets into a fight with her, it's not really going to be one that is going to help him out with Jinchuu itself. "I'm not even a participant," she smiles, shrugging a little.
Alan would be wasting his time trying to get anywhere with Hotaru anyway. All he seems to be able to offer is attitude and a job working for a real jerk of a boss, neither of which do much for her.
Yeah, she heard the gossip about when the boxer got punched across the street right in front of Marisol, and now that he's given his name, she's made the connection to that hilarious story. But he might know something she's at least interested in, "Ah, Mister R. B., who did you fight against, if you don't mind me asking. Or, rather, well, it didn't happen to be Hinata Wakaba, did it?"
"Nah," Riko interjects, from her place on the packing crate. She says it casually, with remarkable lack of concern. She isn't even looking at either Alan or Hotaru now, rather holding a hand out and examining her nails.
"Mister...R.B. fought someone else," I'm not sure what happened to Wakaba, really. Mm-well."
A glib statement. Offhanded. Like she doesn't care. Mind, the ignorance isn't entirely feigned - she does not know, not /exactly/. But surely Riko might have some clue, or at least some suspicion.
She looks up, though, tilting her head. Smiling.
"It means that there's crazy ninja shit going on in here." He taps his temple. "Gotta keep everything you hear and how you hear it in your mind. Take nothing as the truth it represents and instead as all the lies they don't. Figure out what's being said by what isn't being said." He flicks his hand. "Or something. Crazy ninja shit!"
Then he rolls his hand, as if remembering something. To actually look at the swirling of sparks and crackles this sets to dancing in the air, it's quite beautiful, but it can be hard to match such things with the boxer. "Hinata, Hinata, Hinata, oh right." Fingersnap, crack of thunder. "Sunflower girl. Took her on in a Saturday Night Fight on the 11th. Didn't see her at all, too busy bumpin' fists with that Marisol babe." Sudden rememberance!
He points at Riko. "Hey, I'm not lucky and she rolled off the conveyor belt instead of being dumped aboard, right? I wasn't exactly looking at much 'cept for Seagulls after that last thing she whacked me with."
Well, there's not much of any leads to go on, and Hotaru isn't even certain how worried she should be about Hinata. She's only heard rumors... and the Jinchuu has only just gotten started. She might just be held up... extra long. "All right," the pig-tailed girl repiles as neither Alan nor Riko offer anything particularly informative about her whereabouts.
She sideglances back at Alan. He sounds like he really knows what he's talking about when it comes to dealing with ninjas. Either that, or he sounds really crazy. Maybe the two are inherently linked, now that she thinks about it. "You fought Marisol again? The girl from Pacific?" Hotaru's expression shows that she clearly finds that amusing. That's the same fighter he supposedly got punched out in front of a month or more ago!
"How many participants are there, anyway?" the girl asks, the question open to either, though her eyes on Riko. "And..." she steps to the side then, one hand coming up to rest against the side of the wall, finger tracing lightly along the engravings there. "Well, if you really were counting on me being here, I guess you don't mind me hanging around for a while, hm?" That question is definitely for Riko.
Riko nods towards Hotaru, waving a hand.
"Of course, of course."
Her eyebrows arch, upwards, her eyes half-closing. Her head tilts, slightly, the hair of her bangs falling to shadow her forehead.
"But I can't reveal official results - or numbers - just yet. All things in time."
She opens her eyes, looking at both Hotaru and Alan R.B. in turn. "But we'll soon find out who's still an 'Agent of Jinchuu'..."
She stresses the words, carefully pronouncing the strange and deliberate term.
"...and who is," Riko pauses, before the final beat, "not."
She spreads her hands, in a dramatic poise of welcome. Given her cross-legged position on the packing crate, and the light of the setting sun, illuminating the large clan crest emblazoned on the deck, just behind her... she also looks like some kind of little teenage sage or buddha.
Certainly, her enigmatic grin fits the mold.
"Until then, Miss Futaba, Mister R.B. ... you're here, and the ship of the people is open to you."
Riko blinks, once.
"I suggest you try the dining salon. I understand the prawn cocktail is particularly good."
Alan doesn't know ninjas from foreign cars, but he's a master at bullshitting. He once convinced an entire bar in Vegas that he was a champion bullfighter looking for his soulmate. Got a lot of free drinks and a memorable night out of it.
Hotaru's expression as she repeats that causes him a bit of pause - not a whole lot has happened out in the world to really connect him to R, and while he doesn't keep it a secret, he doesn't advertise. And if /she/ knows... his eyes glance toward Riko briefly, and he endeavors to make sure he checks his cabin thoroughly for mundane and crazy ninja modes of eavesdropping.
The boxer's eyes darken just as the 'not' is said. Whether they know Alan's alleigances or not, as long as he's progressing in the tournament sailing will be relatively smooth. It's when he finds himself on the outside looking in that things get... bumpy.
He gives Riko a grin, but it's a much darker expression. "I was enjoying the crab alfredo, myself." He looks about ready to move on, just hasn't actually taken any steps toward that end.
The acceptance of her hanging around seems to surprise the girl just a little, as if her expectation was that it would be met with some resistence. Then again, she has no idea how public the event is likely to become in the upcoming days. "Huh, thanks," she replies with a blink. She doesn't really seem much affected by the mention of who or who may not be an 'agent' after the first round is over. Alan, Kyle, Hinata, and Marisol are the only three she's heard of by name and so she doesn't have much of a vested interest in the outcome. Or so she thinks.
"Is Kyle aboard? Kyle Travers?" she asks of Riko then. She told him that she'd cheer for him if she saw him fight. The least she can do is follow up on that while hanging around this very interesting vessel.
She moves back to the railing herself to lean against it once more, this time facing out toward the ocean in the direction of the already vanished sun. "Jinchuu," she murmurs thoughtfully. The strangest tournament she's ever heard of. It's like only a couple people even know what's going on while the rest meander around as manipulated pawns. She glances over her shoulder after a moment, "This is going some event, huh?"
"Of course," Riko replies, "of course."
She hops off the crate she was sitting on. As she moves, the label on the wooden box becomes visible, a simple adhesive with a few lines printed on it - which nonetheless claim that the contents of the crate are "land mines, antipersonnel, one dozen (12)".
Her skated feet make contact with the deck. She rolls to one side, heading in the direction of the main ship structure, the interior of the human-habitable spaces.
"And Mister Travers...was given directions to the Suiryuu."
Riko purses her lips, momentarily, and her face begins to change. Her final expression, though, is hidden - her back turned towards both Hotaru and Alan R.B., as she rolls slowly down the deck.
"Maybe you'll see him. I'll show you to a cabin, though, Miss Futaba? If you wish to stay...?"
Alan's attention is briefly grabbed. "Travers? He that other fighter's brother or somethin'?" 'course, way this world is, could be his dad, could be his son. Could be his sister, Kyle's kind of a sissy name. He regards Hotaru, and his eyes focus, a fresh wave of electricity on his skin causes the scorched lines to dance and flare. He's probably going to get tired of that in a few hours.
Shown a nice room to stay in, hospitality provided by Riko? Hotaru seems to waver a little at the offer. She hadn't come aboard with the intent to stay, so of course she brought nothing with her. But she isn't about to pass up on the offer either, in spite all of the suspicion she leveled at the skating girl earlier in the evening. "Sure," she replies to Riko's invitation with a grin, moving away from the railing to follow after the young ninja host.
Only Alan's question causes her to pause, turning to glance toward him, studying him closer now that she's right next to him. She's seen a lot of crazy types of fighters out there, but the way chi seems to just pretty much flow over him so easily. And she has to work so hard at it. Proletariate of the fighting world, Riko had called them. Somehow, Hotaru finds herself questioning that.
"His brother is Cody... Do you know anything about him? Kyle has been looking for him for a long time." She knows what it's like to go searching for a sibling, after all. The least she can do is ask on the young man from Metro's behalf.
Riko pauses at the threshold of the ship's structure, near the large armored bulkhead doors leading to the Suiryuu's interior. And she stands there, apparently waiting for Hotaru. However, while she doesn't turn round, doesn't turn her head ... she listens, all the same. Tracking Hotaru's words.
Unconciously, Alan hitches up his left sleeve to scratch at his forearm, exhaling a plume of smoke. That chi seems to crackle all over his skin all the time, under his clothes. It's never something he's thought about - where most people have to pull chi into them, Alan has to focus to keep it /out./ Once he relaxes, some serious damage starts getting thrown around.
"A lot of people have been looking for that guy for a long time. Last time I saw him was in Thailand." Why is he saying this? Something about Hotaru just makes him honest, a little of his old life bleeding through. Maybe she reminds him of someone. "We were having a nice conversation and then a big guy with red skin walked out of the ocean and kicked my leg in half." That'd be Akuma. Funny who you meet on a beach.
"Thailand..." the girl repeats back, sounding thoughtfully pensive. Well, it's a bit of information at least. Even if it's particularly /scary/ information. A nice conversation, eh? Naturally she has no reason to suspect otherwise. "Thanks, Mister R. B.," Hotaru repeats with a smile. "I'll pass it on. I'm sure Kyle will appreciate it. It's... well, it's something at least. Good luck to you."
And with that, she turns to follow after Riko, hands clasped behind her back. This is going to be some event indeed.
The boxer smirks. It's not a very nice expression as he lights up another cigarette and turns away to go investigate some other part of the Suiryuu, the mystic lines flaring before him and in his wake. "Yeah, whatever, kid." Alan's finger drags along a line briefly, causing it to shine unbearably bright. Yep. Already getting tired of this.
Log created on 00:26:56 08/27/2007 by Hotaru, and last modified on 01:31:28 08/28/2007.