Description: Hotaru finally goes to meet the stern, no-nonsense guardian of Kentou, Sakana, and ask permission to train the boy. Will the old fisherman let his young charge do the one thing Ol' Sak had always forbid? Can the girl ever hope to change such an inflexible, gruff man's mind? Tune in and see..
Once again to the shop at the dock the young Kenpo artist ventures. Last time she crossed the threshold of the bait and fish store belonging to the crusty dwarf of a man that owns it she was filled with doubt and uncertainty. But this time as the girl slips into the store there is only unwavering conviction. This time her mind is clear and it shows in the steely glint in her sapphire blue eyes.
Dressed in her usual China-girl attire, she waits for the old man to deal with any present customers, while also staying wary enough to dodge any flying fish, pounding mallets, or soggy bait that might get flung around depending on the whim and mode of this shop's proprietor.
a few days have passed since the battle in the streets of Japan and it would be impossible to tell she was in any such engagement by looking at her. Thanks to a certain young boy, Hotaru scraped by with little more than a couple of shallow gashes and on solid clonk on the side of her head. Her ample hair manages to conceal that bruise quite well, however.
At this hour in the day, the Ondori Bait Shop is all but emptied.
The local restaurants and markets have bought all but a handful of the day's catch. The bins filled with small shrimp, worms and similar fishbait are all exausted. By and large, now its simply a matter of cleaning and straightening. Perhaps selling a few knicknacks to the occasional passerby or a few late customers who're checking all nooks and crannies of the wharf for certain kinds of fish or last-minute deals.
Ol' Sak is rarely far from the front counter. Not one to pass up even the tiniest possibility of business, you see. The gruff man sings to himself some horribly out-of-tune song that plays out more like a half-remembered limmrick. Running a damp rag back and forth over the cutting board.. A bucket of bait knives and a flint sharpener nearby.
However, as the door jingles open a squinty eye lifts to peer straight at the visitor, "If yer lookin fer 'nother barrel fer ya brothers, Garl yer outta luck.. Wassa good day ta' day." Tipping his head towards the mostly empty barrels nearby.
Which must be why the man seems to be of mild temper at the moment! Good business makes for nice days.
Ah, good. Not catching him in the midst of ranting or throwing stuff is fortunate. Hotaru lets the door swing closed behind her, taking advantage of the quiet moment to glance around the shop. Eying the way it's maintained in spite it's humble structure. It's always interesting for the girl raised in the circumstances she was to see what it is others get by with.
But she isn't here to sight see, either, and when his glance comes her way and the door behind her has closed to make her easier to see in the light of the bait shop, Hotaru turns her attentions toward the man at the counter. Clasping her hands together in front of her, the young fighter takes a few steps forward. A second glance is cast toward the stairs in the back then toward the old man, as if silently wondering if Kentou was around, and if so, how he was doing after the crushing he took at the hands of Tauros the other day.
"Ah, sorry, not here for fish today," comes the apologetic reply, her smile quiet and reserved. "It's another matter - a different kind of business, I suppose. It's about Kentou." The boy was square with his Uncle. And, in her eyes, square with Katana, even if the gang leader didn't merit such respect in her opinion. All debts paid in full, it's time to keep her end of the deal. "I hope he's okay," she adds a bit more guardedly.
Humble is the best way to describe this little shop. The show area is barely wide enough for even a girl as teeny as Hotaru to meander around in. Of course, as always, the store is kept remarkably clean considering the dingy conditions just beyond the door. The floor tiles are worn and filled with glaring replacements here and there, but is clean. The walls seem scrubbed thoroughly and every barrel cleaned and recleaned. For what little there is, what they have is maintained with much detail and care.
"Spit it out garl!" Ol' Sak speaks up as the youth seems to linger just a biiiit too long in her thoughts. Squinting at her again as he draws one of the knives from the bucket. Cleaning the sharp fileting knife without so much as a second glance. Somehow managing to not cut himself, even!
As the girl claims to not be here for business, the gruff dwarf begins to square his shoulders in the sort of way a dragon prepares to breath fire. That flame, however, is held in his throat as the name of his 'nephew' is spoken.
Making something of a grousing grumble, the man finishes cleaning his current project and slips it into a side-ways knife rack. Still! The dwarf begrudgingly admits, "..Ah dunno wot yas said to tha boy.. But 'es been ship-shape an' hop-to fer tha las week, Garl. Wot e'er you said.. Keep 'et up! He might na be such ah lazy bum 'at 'es rate." Drawing forth another knife from the bucket calmly as he eyes the girl yet again.
Hard to say how perceptive this old coot is sometimes. However, he's certainly caught one or two details so far as the gruff man furthers, "'Ey got beat up o'gain. Lahk e'ery week. Tha' boy's got a head so thick ain't no world ah' 'urt'll e'er beat sense inna 'em." The man then taps the tip of his knife against his cheek, indicating the eye.
"Ah see 'er shiners gone garl. Ya 'eal bout as fast as tha boy does. HEH." The sound of a blade sliding over flint fills the room, "If 'nly we'er all dat lucky."
"That's good to hear," Hotaru replies with regard to Kentou's attentiveness to duties around the shop. It says a lot, that. Her request that he give his Uncle the respect and hard work he was due was followed to the letter. Ironic that what she said to him is exactly what she's here to speak to the shopkeeper about!
"Yeah," Hotaru replies when mention of the kid taking a beating comes up. "He did it to save me." comes the simple, humble admission, her thumbs rubbing over each other nervously, her hands still clasped tightly together. She doesn't elaborate, though, instead bringing her left hand up to rest over her left eye, smiling a bit sheepishly, her cheeks tinting a faint pink, "Y-yes, I'm doing all right now."
But even that side topic is brushed past swiftly as the girl cuts to the chase. "Mister Sakana... I, well, you should know..." It seemed a lot easier to tell him in her head. After all, what does she have to be afraid of? If she incurs his anger, then what? But now that she's standing right in front of him, it doesn't seem so easy to state it as she had rehearsed. Still, stalling is just going to invoke another kind of ire from the mine-field-like personality so she can't stand still either.
Thus finally it comes, after one breath taken to clam her nervousness. "I've offered to teach Kentou the ways of Kenpo. That is what I told him last week."
As the girl admits the boy's valor for her sake, Ol' Sak's eyebrow lifts. Pausing a moment in his knife sharpening as his shoulders square a fraction, "Did 'ey now? .. Heh." That earns the faintest of smiles to crack and twist into existance on a bearded face that's rarely contorted into anything more than a gravely frown. Not that the expression lingers for long as the old bastard, HEH's, "..Least tha' boy got 'emself blooded up 'fer ah good reason 'fer once."
Narrowed gaze returning to his works for the moment as the soft grinding fills the store again. That at least bought a few seconds more of patience from the shopkeep as his head nods back and forth a few moments. But as those few seconds come and go, the man juuuuuuust begins to pause his work to again lamblast the girl for not speaking her mind.
..Just in time to catch that statement.
Clatter.
Ol' Sak stares at the girl for a long moment now. Now its HIS turn to allow the awkward silence to just.. hang in the air a moment. The dropped knife forgotten for the moment as he settles his calloused, rough hands upon the cutting board to balance his portly weight. Staring at the woman for long, long moments more.
Hnnn.
With a slow exhale the old man murmurs, "...Aight 'en." His tone a bit softer now, but only by a fraction, "...Iffin ya lookin 'fer payment, ah canna offer ya much garl. Nah ah world class fightin class lahk 'erself.." He tilts his head away a fraction as he slowly picks up the knife once more. The old man isn't torn by much.. But this is something else. You can read it in his face, the uneasiness of his stance.
If anybody else offered, -anybody-.. Ol' Sak probably would have thrown them out onto the street with his bare hands and told them to never so much as look at his boy again. But this...
..This is different.
As the knife drops to the counter Hotaru unclasps her hands, her arms held stiffly against her sides as she straightens her back a little and looks Ol' Sakana back squarely in the eye. She can feel it. The pain her simple statement must inflict. To tell him that she will be encouraging and guiding the young boy in the very thing the old man has sought to shelter him from ever since taking him in.
But she doesn't cower beneath the gaze. She's certain she is doing the right thing now. And when Hotaru is certain she's in the right, she doesn't back down. Not now. Not ever. When the begruding acceptance comes, she replies with a faint smile. She is likewise torn and it shows in her eyes - offering to share in some part his burden for the orphaned boy is no small deal. And trying to be worthy of being some kind of example for him is a matter she will no doubt struggle with for some time.
"No payment will be necessary," the girl replies. "Nor will his training conflict with his work for you. At least, that is my intent." she speaks, her voice picking up a little now that the hardest part is over with. "I- I don't know what it is like for you to let him do this. But I feel that on many levels, his choice has already been made and that to let him flounder without any guidance would be a grave mistake. I won't be teaching him simply how to punch and kick. But rather the entirety of what learning a martial art encompasses. Discipline. Self control. Respect. Honor. I believe Kentou is ready to learn these virtues."
Her voice fades a little and once again she clasps her hands together in front of her, shoulders slouching just a little. "I wish I could console you by asserting that I knew what I was doing or had prior experience, but to say such would be untrue. All I can say is that I'll do my best just like I believe Kentou will do his best."
That sidelong, squinted gaze pierces the girl far more sharply than the filet knives in the gruff fisherman's bucket ever could. A look that proves while Kentou may face down practically anyone in combat, he STILL does precisely what Ol' Sak tells him to do. At least, when Sak is looking.
This business with the boy is no laughing matter to this man. Who can say what history Sakana has with the Ondori family, but one thing is certain. He will be dead before he lets anything happen to his mentor's grandchild. Of course.. The grim reality is, plenty has already happened.
The bitter truth is Sak already failed. The boy.. just isn't cut out to be a fisherman. Too much of this fighting business in his head and in his blood. No matter how hard he runs the boy or how much he tries to lock him away.. the kid always finds a way out again. And for all his controlling demeanor, the man hasn't the heart to treat the boy like a kenneled dog.
It is this grim reality that hardens his look at the girl. What she's saying is... absolutely true. And all of those things sound good to the fisherman, afterall. Those are the things any two-bit dojo owner or belt-by-the-numbers salesman would say in this town.
No. Its the fact that the girl -means- those words. Rarely has Ol 'Sak ever looked anybody in the eye-Square in the eye-and someone got away with lying to him. She means everything she says. Deeply, sincerely. Last time Sak ever saw a fighter like that.. Well. She passed away some years ago.
But what truly breaks the last of his resistance, what finally makes that skeptical, critical eye soften and drift away.. Is what the girl speaks at last. She showed her resolve, she showed her mind..
..But her heart.. is the only thing that truly matters.
"...Fine then, garl. ...Train 'em."
His old, weary eyes stare at the sliced and scarred cutting board on the countertop, not that much different from his equally scarred and worn hands upon it.
"..Ah know 'eyd be better off.." The gruff old man then looks back up, corner of his lip cracking into a near-smile, "..Prolly' you 'ill be too.."
Clang! The fisherman grabs another knife from the bucket with a quiet-moment-shattering clatter. Nonchalant expression returning as he loudly gets back to sharpening his knives, "AH know Ah'll be better off with tha' bloody lout learn'n 'ow ta do 'es chores 'fer once! An' wit' out 'es fool yammerin scarin off mah customers!"
The resistence torn down, Hotaru's expression warms. The stern, fiery determination is still there. But it's coupled with thanks - glowing with gratitude as all reluctance fades away from the old shop keeper. In her heart, the burden grows. Kentou may answer to her but she must answer to this venerable old man who has cared for the boy for years. Maybe she will be better off for this like he says. Right now all she knows is that it feels like the correct thing to do and that's the best she can make of it.
"Thank you," Hotaru speaks in return, her voice softer now, heavy with emotion. Those clasped hands unfold and then press together, steepled in front of her as she offers a very traditional, respectful bow of her head. Looking back up into his face one last time, Hotaru takes a step backward. "Time for me to be on my way. But I think you might be stuck seeing more of me in the future." she says with a bit of a grin and a half shrug. "Thank you again, Mister Sakana."
And with that, she turns to head for the door, opening it again, allowing the bright mid-day sun to pour in over the threshold. She pauses there for a moment, a silhouette against the outside, and inhales deeply of the salty, sea air. But then she is gone, leaving the door to swing closed on its own.
The gruff old storeowner snorts at the girl's threat of visiting more, "Jus' remember ta bring yer pocketbook an' buy sumpthin next time!" The man retorts! At the layers of thanks, the man somewhat awkwardly bows his head. More of an off-handed head tilty motion vaguely resembling thanks in turn. He's done all his speakin' on this matter, and there's no more to say. Dwelling in emotions.. at least those kinds.. ain't something a man like this does. Too many things to do in a day!
At least, thats the face he shows until the girl heads outside to enjoy the sun and the nice, warm day. The old salt's gaze turns to the knife in his hands.. Looking along its sharpened edges.
"...Guess it woz fate.." Ol' Sak murmurs quietly, "..Futaba.."
Log created on 14:55:24 09/22/2007 by Kentou, and last modified on 18:05:33 09/22/2007.