Description: In the wake of his first and possibly last SNF fight, Kentou's reputation as a blossoming fighter is in ruins. Dishonoring himself nationwide.. He has hit his lowest ebb. Hotaru once again finds herself the victim of street violence, battered and bruised, questioning herself on all levels. Collectively, they have reached their nadir. But in this dark moment, where despair has all but won.. Is hope rekindled? Perhaps the start of something beautiful..
When the ambulances came for her they thought the girl had been hit by a car. Beaten bloody and left to lie off to the side of the street, the condition Hotaru was in after picking the wrong fight with the wrong brute was not pretty at all. A couple of stitches in her forehead, a cleansing shower, and a change of clothes, and she's as good as new though! Well, except for the all too obvious black eye on the left side of her face and the numerous bruises on her sides, concealed by the white blouse and blue vest just about anyone would probably be used to seeing the girl dressed in by now.
Truth be told, she feels like an idiot. The giant beast of a man was stealing chains all along the street, including her bike chain. She should've just let him. With a flick of her wrist to pop open her cell phone, she could have had a dozon bike chains hand delivered, each one made out of pure titanium. Or if he had walked off with her entire bike for who knows what reason, she could have bought a car, hired someone to drive it home, then have the car rolled off a cliff, and the entire afternoon wouldn't have so much as dented the Futaba fortune that she has access to. Instead she got beaten to a pulp over a five dollar bike chain. Stupid, stupid girl she chided herself over and over as she painfully cleaned up from the mess.
But it drove home a point to her, quite viciously, that she had business she needed to resolve. A question unasked and likewise unanswered hung over her all week. And it's time for her to answer it just so that there is no uncertainty left. No false hope. Too injured to make the walk, Hotaru hops out of the cab she hired to bring her to the dock, closing the door behind her as she breaths in deeply and exhales slowly. This wasn't going to be a pleasant conversation at all, but she had to get it out of the way.
By the time she arrives at Ol' Sak's shop, Hotaru has composed herself well enough to not look too roughed up. There's not a lot she can do about the black eye though. Things like that have a way of sticking out. Waiting for a moment when the old, stumpy proprietor isn't harassing a customer, she finally pipes up, "Ah, is Kentou around?" She asks, /intently/ looking toward the left, keeping the black eye out of sight a at first glance.
As the girl approaches the Bait Shop, the pier seems serene. Quiet even! The sea gulls trill in the air as the distributors and canneries nearby dump their excess inventory into the water. Stout sea men wander the old wooden planks of the dock now, a few giving Hotaru slight glances before minding their own business.
Finally.. a peaceful moment in what has otherwise turned out to be such a terrible-
"'IS THA BEST YA GOT?! GITTOUTA'ERE YA TIEF 'AFORE AH CALL DA COPS ON YAS!"
A small balding man races out of the baitshop, whimpering and covering his head as a small flotilla of fish fly after him. A Cod beaning him over the head as he turns the corner and races right past the girl. ;_; Waaaaaah!
Well. So much for that serene part.
As the girl meanders on in, Ol' Sak is grumbling to himself. Fuming and spitting fire as he cleans out out an empty bait bucket with a filthy rag. The dwarven pirate turns his squinty eye towards the girl a moment. Just...looking at her a moment. Hesitating a notable second before grunting, "Ah! An' fer ah moment ahs thought yas come 'fer sumphin useful. Like.. Oh..Ah dunnoh.. BAIT MEBBE?!" The surly man grouses as he tosses the bucket over his shoulder to the tune of a clattering cacophony in the back.
With a slooooooooow, calming exhale, the portly man cleans his hands in that rag. Serving only to make his fingers a smidge dirtier than they were before as he hobbles around his countertop to better regard the lass.
"Humble 'polagies, Garl. Tha' no account lout tried ta sell me rottin bait! Na ting on tha Earth riles me up lahk that, raght e'nuff." The hard man gives Hotaru another look for a moment. Narrowed eye searching her over a moment before nodding over his shoulder.
"Tha boy's innis room. Sickern'ah dog, Or so 'ey says. S'in tha back upstairs to dah left." Beginning to turn away from her for a moment.
As Hotaru begins to move beyond him towards the directions.. She can feel something cold press to her palm. A.. clean towel? With a few cubes of ice freshly bound within for a cold compress.
His hunched back to the girl, as the old pirate mutters something under his breath.. but allows her egress.
The girl deftly manages to avoid the scurrying customer before slipping inside. At the initial reaction to her inquiry, she merely smiles faintly, right eye idly watching the bucket traverse the room to crash behind the counter. She's not coming for bait. She doesn't even fish! "That could get anyone worked up," she tries to sympathize with the old shop keeper's plight, finally turning to look at him directly when he takes a long moment to stare at her. Avoiding eye contact for so long would be rather rude, after all.
"Sick?" she repeats back, sounding a little surprised. "He seemed well enough this weekend..." She muses. If a little bit lead footed when it came time to act. She nods her head at the directions though, moving to step pass only to have the cloth pressed into her hand. There is a blink, then a sheepish smile, cheeks tinting a faint pink, "T-thanks," she murmurs even though his back is to her by now. She lifts the cloth to press against her left eyesocket then slips around to ascend the stairs. To the left, he said, she reminds herself, trying to not lose that important detail amidst the million other things filling her mind right now.
Thankfully there isn't much too the 'backroom' so to speak. The small area is loaded to the roof with all manner of leaning crates and varieties of aquariums and buckets. Mostly empty now as the bulk of their business has come and gone with the earlier tides. Amazingly, the place is kept decently clean. Doubtlessly due to Ol' Sak's taskmastering efforts on his so-called slave labor.
The stairs are a narrow, short affair. The steps creaking even beneath the girl's slight weight. The only navigating issue comes when the girl ... can easily miss the only door that exists on the left. A door that looks, for all intents and purposes, like a closet. A hastily built closet, at that. The uneven frame of the door is nearly imperceptable along the wall, rising to about the girl's eye-level. The door knob is a tiny thing, looking like a bronzen handle taken from some dresser drawer and repurposed. The only way she'd know for sure that this is, indeed, the correct turn is the very, very soft sound of voices.
Sports commentators by the sound of them. If the visitor listens closely enough one can hear specifics emerge,
"...Baffling Kiko. I can't imagine how that boy's parents feel.."
"..-yet another advocate for prohibiting all children from participating in full-contact fighting events.."
"...Hahaaa, Too bad for the monkey that banana had legs! Haaaa! Seriously though.."
A small hand reaches out for the handle, fingers clutching it lightly. This hardly seems like it could be the bedroom she was looking for. It's a closet. She shouldn't really open it. What if closet-stuff comes spilling out and goes tumbling down the stairs? Considering the kind of egg shells she already walks on around Old Sakana, the very thought is rather terrifying.
It's only when she hears voices from the other side that she begins to reconsider her prior doubt. Her left hand continues to press the cloth against her face, but she leans forwarda little, bringing her right ear near the wooden surface, making it easy to distinguish the voices on the other side. There is a quiet, slow exhale, her fingers slipping off of the handle as she turns to glance back down the stairs, as if considering retreat the more tolerable option now.
Several long seconds pass before her right hand comes up again, knuckles knocking against the door softly, but easily heard over the voice of the announcers. She hesitates afterward, as if uncertain as to if she should identify herself. She imagines his Uncle doesn't knock much, which means he might just be confused. Wincing, she takes a deep breath, "Hey." comes the announcement. "It's me."
At the hollow-sounding knock, no immediate reply is forth coming. The sound of the sports commentators shifts now to the sound of a voice, vaguely familiar if warped several times over the airwaves, the background noise and an inhuman gorilla roar, "..miserable, pathetic, cowaaaaaard!.."
It would seem whatever is on the otherside of that door is content to ignore the world beyond. That is.. Until Hotaru's voice pierces the sound of the audio.
A rush of movement, shifting cloth and the audio immediately dies away. Long.. awkward moments pass in the wake of her announcement. A moment of panic? Of terror? Of shame? .... All of the above?
"J...just a.. just a sec.."
The boy's familiar voice can be heard. Haggard and stuffy, as if indeed fighting off some kind of cold or another. More sounds of shifting cloth can be heard, an old spring bed creaking. Sniffing sounds followed by another long pause.
After all this .. The doorknob finally twists and the door begins to swing outwards, revealing..
The world's teeniest bedroom in the history of ever.
Not only does this look like a closet.. it IS a closet. The room itself lacks wall-papering or insulation of any sort, with exposed wooden wall structure on all sides. A hasty, single bed is hastily squeezed against the wall perhaps two arm-lengths away from the door. The bed itself unmade, with sheets possessing little chinese monkey imprints. DVD cases are sprawled all over the floor, along with clothes and comic books. A small TV is nessled upon a small table, surrounded by more DVD stacks. All fighting tournaments and leagues of all kinds.
Oh.. yeah.. and a couple cartoons too. But he tried to hide those really fast.
The boy himself? ... Certainly looks sick outwardly. Standing at the door, his head roughly three inches from the roof of his 'room'. Wearing a matching set of pajama top and pajama bottoms, White with small super-deformed kung-fu fighters chopping and kicking. His face...
..Says it all really.
Eyes downcast, glimmering wetly. Puffy and red, with wetness similarly beneath his nose. Breathing slow, hesitating breaths. His hair is half-unwound from his braids, even wilder than usual about his shoulders.
He... Can't make himself look up to her. Not at all.
...He doesn't even know what to say.. Just feeling her eyes on him.. Makes his own eyes glimmer a little more.
She had only seen recaps of the boy's first appearance on international television as a 'real fighter'. As a weekly participant herself, it typically takes the entirety of the following week for her to catch up on the matches that took place around the same time as hers. Between school, training, chores... training-chores, and upkeep at the tranquil church yard she maintains, it can be hard to find the time. But she knew enough even before coming over that he hadn't made an impressive showing. Only the snippets she picks up now through the door let her know how bad it really went. From the descriptions she realizes the truth what she only half understood before. That he had run away. Threw in the towel completely.
Finally he opens the door and almost instinctively the girl ducks slightly even though she isn't having to contend with the low ceiling of his makeshift room. A lone, blue eye surveys the contents with silence, her left eye concealed by the clean, damp cloth she continues to hold over it.
But in the end, her attention comes to the room's sole occupent, looking him over from head to toe. Well, he does look the part about being ill, that's for sure. But putting everything together that she knows, she strongly suspects a virus isn't to blame for /this/ condition. "Your Uncle said you were sick," she states softly. "But unfortunately I didn't bring any soup." She sounds apologetic, though her tone is somewhat neutral. There's a war she's waging in her heart this moment, and the strain leaves her feeling flat toned and expressionless. She should have expected this. She should have looked into what happened more.
"Mind if I come in and sit down?" she asks, finding enough strength to smile faintly even if he isn't looking at her. She asks with the politeness one might adopt when asking to enter any personal room, even if these quarters oh so barely qualify.
Had the boy the capability of looking any higher than Hotaru's knees, his response would certainly be much different. Not one to be inattentive to another's pain, even above his own. However, grief can render anyone blind. The boy fights to keep his breathing even. Holding himself together with something vaguely resembling composure. The side-effect of this.. Is that he doesn't dare speak to her. Terrified of what sound may leave his trembling lips instead.
Instead, to her apology for not having soup.. He shakes his head briskly. His braid coming apart a little more in the abrupt movement. No no.. That was just a lie to keep Sak of of his back. At least for a little while.
However, at the request to sit.. The answer doesn't come quite so quickly. Hesitating a moment, before finally nodding his head slowly. Stepping to the side to better let the young lady pass and enter the closet-room proper.
Thankfully the space is juuuuust high enough where Hotaru doesn't have to constantly bow her head to fit. But if she so much as rocks too high on her feet, the roof will tap her on her crown. Just to let her know its there.
The boy shuffles to the bed.. which happens to be the only furnishing available for seating. Quickly turning his back to the girl and smoothing out the bedsheets. Making a small sound of panic as...
..Hotaru can plainly see his stuffed rooster that he doubtlessly snuggles at night.
A very, veeery quick movement the boy buries the squeaky-clucky sidekick beneath the bedsheets and seats himself at the far edge. Trying to act like nothing just happened a second ago. Ahem.
Still.. Kentou never looks up from the floor. Not once. Looking for all the world like a shame-filled, terrified child about to get yelled at by the school principal. Or, perhaps worse yet..
About to get yelled at by his hero.
She steps in quietly, moving over to the bed, lone eye taking in everything about the way Kentou moves, how he smooths out the bed, the furtive attempt to hide the stuffed rooster before she notices. She takes it all in though remains silent as she sits down on the edge of the bed, right hand pressing against her knee, fingers splayed out, as if sub-consciously trying to wipe the nervous sweat out of the palm of her hand.
"So... not sick, huh?" she says, not sounding all that surprised. It may have kept Sakana off his back, but she's not so easily deterred. But she also sounds like she's just buying time, as if putting off something awkward or uncomfortable. An agonizingly long moment of silence follows as she looks around the room again. Anything to avoid looking at the poor, wrecked kid. Her right hand continues to rub at her knee. What to say, what to say, she ponders, her mind whirling but coming up blank.
The thing is, she didn't come here to talk to him about his SNF. She came to answer the question he almost asked before, in no uncertain terms. To tell him that she wishes him well, but that she can't help him. That she's too inexperienced. To naive. Too quick to lose herself to a temper usually kept in check but not always. He needed to find himself more mature to teach him. Maybe when he gets older, to inquire at the Kyokugen Dojo for instruction from the likes of living legends such as Senior Instructor Marco or Ryo-sensei... But right now, looking at him like this, it's tearing her heart out. She can't say it. Every attempt to broach the purpose of her visit finds her simply opening her mouth for a long moment then shutting it, as if locked in a stupified state.
Ryu had warned her of the price of crushing price of failure when it comes to taking on a student. A price she isn't ready to pay. A dread fear that she is entirely inadequate to teach beyond the rather safe, informal, not nearly as burdensome courses at the YFCC. But now, she can't bring herself to say it. Not now. Not when he looks so devastated.
"You know," comes the words at long last. "I was pretty scared of him too." comes the guilty admission.
The boy is truly skilled for his age. Gifted, one could say. But a boy he still is.
To fail so completely.. It feels like the end of the world. That nothing could possibly be worse than this. To do something so.. completely against everything he swore he would do.
To show the world the fighting spirit of the Ondori. To bring respect and honor to his name. And what does he use his fifteen minutes of fame for?
Becoming a laughing stock. A performance so pathetic that the SNF is reviewing its policies of letting fighters under 18 even participate anymore. Nevermind the fact that the boy made a nuisance of himself to the producers about letting that 'Mad Gear Shogun' on the show. Fleeing before so much as throwing a single punch? The producers informed him in no uncertain terms his career in the SNF league was finished before it even started. No chance to redeem himself to the public now.
And now..? Hotaru, one of the top tier fighters in the world. One of the few that even noticed him. Someone who saved his life a few times over, already, at great personal risk.. Doubtlessly here to tell him how ashamed she is of him? Of course she is.
Especially unfortunate now.. just when he decided..
As she finally speaks up the second time after that long, awkward silence.. Kentou's eyes close tightly, forcing a pair of tears to roll forth.
"...It happened.. so fast.." Kentou scratchy, croaking voice rasps. Hotaru's own admission spurring him on, "..All.. All I could think.. was.. was how angry I was at..at K..Katana..and.. then.. then.." Sniffling as his shoulders quake. Hands gripping his knees tighter, "..I couldn't.. I couldn't move.. I..didn't know... know what to do.."
"...I ran.." Kentou finally, openly admits. Head bowing as he just can't hold back sobbing any longer. Shoulders heaving in complete and utter shame.
As he breaks down, Hotaru remains still. He doesn't look up, which spares him the wide eyed, actually frightened look on her face, even as she keeps that towel in place with her left hand. She isn't really experienced in dealing with this. Her heart wants to reach out, wrap her arms around his shoulders, and pull him into a hug. But her mind keeps telling her that she needs to keep her distance. After all, she came to wish him well and maybe give him some pointers about where to go from here, then absolve herself of any responsability with what comes next in the young boy's life.
It isn't fair, she tells herself, to be caught in this situation. The kid has a rough life, and is off to a rough start. That isn't her problem, right? It isn't her fault. Everyone has their down moments. Heaven knows she's had hers. But she had to suffer hers in solitude at his age. Maybe it's best he go through the same experience. Maybe it'll open his eyes to the world a little. Maybe that's just what he needs... a harsh lesson that will encourage him to take his Uncle's advice and settle down and chose a safer, more certain trade...
"When I fought Blanka just a couple weeks ago, I panicked," the girl speaks quietly. "I didn't treat him like an opponent. I treated him like a monster. I tried to hurt him so that I could run away. That's all I was thinking at first. But... Well, it turns out he's not scary on the inside... just have to get to know him."
She sighs a little, her right hand reaching forward as she leans a bit, attempting to place it on the boy's shoulder. "You got in over your head. You don't have the training to jump into fights like that. It could happen to anyone. Maybe..." Maybe what? she catches herself wondering. Maybe in a few years? When he's older? He'll magically get better on his own? Didn't she come here to put to rest such silly notions in the first place?
"Maybe I could help you out a bit. You know," she continues, realizing that she wants to qualify that as fast as possible. "Show you a couple things. Some pointers, that's all." she continues quickly, trying to weigh her words carefully. She can commit to a /little/ help, right? She'd do the same for any of her students at the YFCC. It doesn't have to go beyond that. She isn't about to be the kid's Ryu, after all!
The youth's abject sorrow halts as he feels Hotaru's hand at his quaking shoulder. Wracking sobs coming to a sniffling pause as blurry eyes open wide. The revelation that she, herself, also fled from that viridian beast stills his crying for the moment. His head tilting a little more towards the famous fighter, eyes daring to move to her knees. Managing enough wherewithal for that, "..R..really..?" He furthers. Somehow doubting Hotaru would ever fear anything. But also, for the first time, throwing a grain of doubt into his mind.
Not a monster? Did he.. Did he misjudge who or what he was fighting? .. That 'Blanka' was incredibly strong.. Defeating a man the boy had previously considered all but invincible. But it did.. it did speak to him.. did it not?
"..I.." Kentou's quivering voice haltingly offers, "..I.. I don't.."
Again his voice halts. This time as Hotaru's hand slowly, carefully rests on his shoulder. At once his trembling is dispelled, as the youth draws perfectly still. Eyes widening as he finally then looks up and meets his watery, liquid gaze to her own.
Hotaru's words.. So very true. True in a way that he would never have admitted to himself before this moment. He.. He wasn't ready. He isn't ready for professional leagues yet. He isn't ready for.. for the prime time. Maybe.. It was his own arrogance that doomed him. He needs to train more.. to learn more.
Ever since he met Hotaru, he began to meet more and more fights. Each of them.. So completely unlike what he thought great fighters should be. No martial art robes or proper, honorable warriors in fateful duels. It has all been the most unlikely of people.. who have turned out to be his greatest challenges.
Kentou isn't just ignorant of fighting skill.. But ignorant of fighters completely. Hotaru .. knows more about people. She was scared but.. she knew enough to fight. To defend herself.. And to know the truth of her opponent even when all appearances lie to her.
Yurika's words come back to him now.. Along with Frei's and even that Mad Gear lieutenant he fought. And Hotaru's words now.
Lips tremble a moment before pressing firmly together. Watery eyes hardening with determination as his cheeks glisten with tears. His own hand moves to clasp over the one on his shoulder.
"H..Hotaru.."
Turning to her. Bowing his head deeply as he moves to hold Hotaru's hand between his own.
"Please.. Take me on as.. as your apprentice.. I.. I beg you.."
Tears falling onto the back of her hand.
She won't elaborate on how she came to find out her error with regards to Blanka. Delivering that desperate, briefly aura binding attack of hers, out of fright rather than tactical skill, was the only thing that changed her perspective. It didn't save her from being obliterated in the fight. But it did at least set them up to reconvene more peacefully afterward, where the two found that they had a lot in common.
But to fix something like this, she would have to just introduce Kentou to Blanka. There's really no other way she could convince him, most likely. Ah well. Maybe with a few pointers, and some advice about not sticking his head into fights he's not ready for anymore, he'll turn out okay. That isn't getting /too/ involved, after all.
But then he speaks her name, his hand taking hold of hers and slipping it from his shoulder in order hold it in front of him, and she knows. Before he even voices the tear filled request, she knows exactly what he is going to ask. The color drains from her visible cheek, the other still concealed beneath the white ice pack, and her blue eye stares at him, widened slightly, as if suddenly terrified. She finds it hard to breath. To speak. To think clearly.
She is intensely aware of each tear drop that splatters against the back of her hand. Each drop a moist admission of failure, of desperation, of hope. She knows what it's like to have a hero. To have someone to look up to with adoration and to hang upon their every word. She knows all too well. But even more, she knows what it's like to be rejected by said hero. To be scorned, hurt, or even threatened. The long, agonizing moments, sitting alone in the church yard, beaten, bruised, sobbing. She had almost wished her brother had been permitted to finish the job. To go on living after that? To have their childhood of growing up together mean nothing? To have her years spent preparing for that moment shattered and discarded with not even anger but simple, abject apathy? Is it her turn to do the same to someone else? Can she even do that?
Years from now she will look back at this moment and realize she had no choice in the matter. Certain things in life come with enough warning to prevent by driving others away preemptively. She could have just avoided the kid. She knew the question was coming after all. Out of sight, out of mind was one possible solution. But that just wasn't her way at the time. Life, compassion, and one humble, desperate little boy forced her tear stained hand on the matter and that was all there was to it. The only true question is whether she will look back on this moment through the grey, melancholy shroud of regret or the pristine, flawless lens of blessed exultation. Only time will tell.
"I will."
The answer comes practically unbidden from her lips, a whisper barely spoken but perfectly clear within the tiny room, her mind reeling at the weight such two simple words suddenly place upon her shoulders. Ryu warned of the poignant path untaken. The fork after which things will never be as they were. For her that untaken path will be to have turned Kentou away in his moment of pleading. The significance this will have in the long run remains to be seen.
Being so helpless.. is a terrible feeling. Only here and now, with his pride a shattered ruin, could Kentou find the strength to finally ask those words. Desperation and pain may have led him to this path, but it was not a random or coincidental choice.
Hotaru was the first person, since his own Father, to show him what true strength was. Not just a strength of technique and fist. But a strength of character. Of honor. Of wisdom. Others he later met held those qualities in different measures, some of them greater or lesser than she.
But none have had those virtues in such balance as she.
Finally admitting how lost and afraid he was all along, brought to the fore by his own arrogance and brazen ambition; Kentou could see no other choice. He needed help. He couldn't walk the path alone. He tried.. He tried so hard. But it just wasn't enough. Training himself isn't enough. He can teach himself to be faster, he can teach himself to be stronger.
But Kentou cannot teach himself to be wiser. Or braver. Or better.
The boy needs Hotaru. Perhaps, in the cosmic scheme, it is an unfair thing. What has she done to deserve such a burden? The patch over her eye and the gloom over her heart is proof that she suffers enough. What business does he have to ask her for -anything-, when the poor girl isn't.. that much better off than he.
Such thoughts, however, don't come to him now. In the valley of despair, all he can do is cling to the one hope he can see. The one thing that brightens his existance that he can turn to..
..The fact that he came to see him at all, is proof enough of that.
Exhale..
The words leave her lips and the boy's shoulders still. His hands squeeze her own as he looks up to her directly again. Face glistening with tears as his mousey eyes stare into her single blue. His pulse quickens then, a tremor running through his body as he bows his head low. Forehead touching the back of her moist hand. A gesture of complete and utter fealty. A squire aligning to his knight. A samurai to his daimyo.
"..Thank you.."
Basking in his own moment of relief is perhaps a small reward in and of itself. Getting to feel, vicariously, what it might have been like had her own brother accepted her at their ill fated reunion. A glimpse at what might have been looks back at her from that teary eyed face. It's impossible to not smile faintly. In spite the throbbing pain in her head. In spite the heart ache. In spite the self-doubt. A quiet, little smile.
Her left hand lowers the ice filled cloth from her face and leaves it sitting on her leg so that she can reach out, resting those damp fingers atop the boy's head. A gentle pat before she speaks, "Come on now, we don't need anything so formal as all that," slowly finding her voice again.
She tugs on her right hand to free it from Kentou's grasp before withdrawing her left hand as well to rest both hands clasped together in her lap as she sits atop the humble bed. "After all, I'll teach you what I can. But you might find that there isn't a whole lot I can offer." the girl continues. "So better be careful what you wish for, as the saying goes." She's grinning a little then, but her tone is somewhat self-effacing than she really intended, exposing a bit too much of that doubt crowding out her confidence as of late.
She rubs her left hand against her knee, drying it off from having clutched the ice pack for so long. Her right hand, on the other hand, reaches out as the girl leans forward, to flick away a tear on his cheek. "But there's no need to cry just now. The training hasn't even started yet, after all."
Tears are falling, but not from sorrow.
As Hotaru touches his head in gentle benediction, the boy slowly lifts his face. It may be taking everything in the girl's being to keep from expressing the fear and doubt running through her.. But Kentou is holding back no such reserve. His expression is as plain as day.
Radiating gratitude like a Sun given light. With just two words his life adds up once more. He has hope. He has a future.
He has something to believe in.
The difficulties that lie ahead.. do not give Kentou pause. The youth was never one to think far into the future and worry about what could be. Only worry about what was.. and what is. Despair vanishing from him like a shadow crawling away from morning, leaving only the redness about his eyes and disheveled hair a sign of it's prior presense.
As her fingertips brush away his tear, the youth sniffles again. Self-consciously rolling his wrist against the other eye in a bid to dry it further, "Of..Of course S..Sensei.." Composing himself as rapidly as he is able. Still looking like a wreck, but trying to make himself seem a little more.. student-like.
"..I.. I'll train hard! I.. I'll obey your every command!.." Kentou stammers. His voice building momentum and confidence, still sitting at her side but bowing his head low once again, "..I.. I promise .. I swear I'll never shame you! Y.. You'll never regret this!.. I swear!"
As he begins to rattle off oaths of absolute obedience, rendering promises that he may later find oh so difficult to hold up to, Hotaru is quiet, both eyes looking at him now, even as one bears the black and blue mark of a battle that didn't go so well earlier in the day. Obey her every command? That means she had better make sure every command is worth obeying. Every instruction the right one. The thought of steering such a young, moldable boy wrong only adds to the weight in her heart.
Never shame her? Can she promise the reverse? Can she promise that she will never behave in such a way that dishonors such youthful adoration? She will need to think twice about how she acts. Three times, even. If she is to be an example to this boy, she really needs to reconsider her occasional outburst of temper...
But she won't burden him with these doubts of hers right now. Letting him enjoy this moment, practically brightening the room with his new disposition... it's a reward she needs almost every bit as he does right now, and she'll do nothing to diminish it.
"Very well," the girl speaks, her tone just a little bit more commanding now. She's speaking with authority bestowed upon her by this young boy, after all, and that means something. "But for right now, I estimate that you owe your uncle about three days worth of work." Hotaru adopts a stern look then, mouth curling into just the faintest of frowns. "Before we can begin training in earnest, you need to be square with your Uncle. Hiding behind a false illness to shirk your responsibilities is not the character of an up and coming Kenpo master."
And with that, the girl rises to her feet, snagging hold of the wet, white towel, careful to not stand so high as to bump her head. "So you better march back down there and start catching up on your duties. When you're all caught up, we'll speak again."
Wait wait wait...
Telling the truth..
To Uncle Sakana?
....Oh crap.. Can he take that Oath back now please? Pretty please??
The youth visibly tenses at her command. Wincing noticably at her vexing command as.. She certainly doesn't start off with the easy orders does she?
"O..Of course, Sensei! R..Right away!" The youth again bows to her after hesitating only a moment. Sniffling again and promptly wiping his face with the back of his pajama sleeve, rising to his feet but remaining bowed in her direction at all times.
Although, as the young woman reaches the door, Kentou slowly looks up to her once more. Those eyes saying more to her than any parting words ever could. A level of adoration that only two other men in her life have ever expressed for her.. But this is different.
The first was true love. The second was finally knowing the love of a brother, though one not of her blood. This.. is more akin to the love of a son. Compared to the terrors of the first and the uncertainties of the second... How bad could this be?
One thing is for sure. Hotaru will find out.
Log created on 00:53:50 09/12/2007 by Kentou, and last modified on 03:06:34 09/14/2007.