Description: Kurow indulges his curiousity of a certain local superstition, and finds the long lost Devil that had once sided with him in the War in Thailand. An new alliance between forsaken Clans is forged as these monsters have a host common foes. Chief amongst them a certain pig-tailed girl. However.. Kurow learns a terrible secret about his nemesis from the ghost that shocks even him to his core.. Is it true?
The Southtown Village is a pretty little part of town, on the surface; cute little shops dot the area, and the residential areas are reasonably-priced, reasonably-cute housing that's both moderately close to the center of town and free of the hustle and bustle of true city living. The primary public high school is even close-by, and the overall feeling of the district, if one never wanders down a back alley, into a basement, or into a few bizarrely 'charmed' areas is one of tranquility and even culture -- art, music, and literature thrive here.
Of course, every city has its dark areas, its strange rumors, and its skeleton-filled closets... and someone who keeps an ear to the ground with the teenage community, like Kurow Kirishima, would of course hear of the strenge attacks that sometimes happen in the village. Normally he'd simply write them off, except for the details that tug at his memories of a certain battle in Thailand... it's not much to go on, but it's worth checking into. And besides -- there isn't exactly a ton at stake.
... for the man lying in wait amid garbage and old newspapers in one of the numerous back alleys of the Village, by a few small shops, shrouding his presence to all but the most attuned senses, maybe. ... or, for that matter, to whatever strange phenomenon or being he hopes to draw out. For others involved, there may be far more to worry about -- but then, tonight, they're not allowed to worry about them.
A young woman of European extraction, probably from Pacific High, wanders into the alley. She is of little consequence, really -- she might have some faint, untapped talent for fighting or for energy manipulation. She might be part of the top ten percent of Pacific's elite class. She might be an inept slacker. All of those traits are... smoothed out of her tonight -- there's little 'to' her save a slightly glassy cast to her eyes and an expression that signifies she feels somehow lost, here in the Village.
Foreign little girls.. Lost little things skittering hither and yon amidst the tourist delights of a land that was once proud of its isolationism from the world. So many of them live in Southtown now, infesting this once-Japanese city with their alien culture and architecture. So many students..
So easy to miss one or two..
Some believe that the only monsters left in the world are the ones men create of themselves. Humanity's own inhumanity to itself. People are their own worst predator, and it is often true. However, old monsters still lurk.
A hate from old times. Before man paved roads or built their buildings of glass and steel, the world was ruled by other forces. Other manners of culture and being. Not all of them are as extinct as many think them to be.
Certainly, Southtown is not a safe town by any stretch of the imagination. A crime-ridden venue, young girls should never venture alone anywhere. Monsters of the human variety abound in numbers unseen in virtually any other corner of the world.
It is unfortunate for this morsel that a monster of the other variety notices first.
The young man monitoring the 'bait' can feel it long before the young lady notices. The air becomes a little more chill.. dropping perhaps a degree in difference from the night air of the street beyond. The shadows seeming a little deeper, inky and black. A tension fills the atmosphere, a feeling of... something being wrong. Something amiss in the natural order.
Kirishima felt this sensation once before.. A world away in a War not long ago. As indellable as fingerprint.. Though few would recognize the signs until it is far too late.
The presense grows closer now. A feeling of something moving.. just outside of where the girl can see. Eyes upon her, though their source goes unnoticed..
Save that it grows closer..
Though the girl doesn't know it, there's a small sort of switch in her mind that trips when that eerie presence finally washes over her, teasing at the edge of her senses; to her, locking up is just a fear reflex -- and saying, quietly enough that it barely leaves the alley, "Hello?" That's just an outside hope that whatever she thinks she's sensing is friendly, even as the atmosphere grows forbidding.
The youth, at both the presence of that familiar feeling and the young lady's response, knows better. He watches her go through the motions, as she takes small, terrified steps into the centermost point of the alley's end, one from which he can easily monitor her... and he can't keep himself from smiling when she 'reads' her lines perfectly.
"Look, I'm from Pacific, I usually don't come to this side of town, I got lost after the football game..." she says to that eerie nothingness, consciously scared but acting on a hard-ingrained desire to, if placed in this sort of uncertain, worrying environment, to actually draw whatever might be hiding out. "I just need someone to tell me how to get back to the dorms..." she whines.
Kurow cares little for the young lady, focusing more on trying to put a name and a face to that familiar feeling that has her seeing ghosts and shadows at every turn. Whatever monster lies in wait is what's important to Kirishima... after all, it is either a grave threat or -- more likely, now that he can feel its presence, and though he can't fully discern it yet, remembers its aid in the war -- a powerful ally.
Aah yes. What is it with children these days and their predilection for talking? As if bartering with a wolf was any way to prolong one's life.
Bizarrely, as the girl calls out into the dark her voice does not echo. The sound of autumn crickets and urban life slowly begin to die away into a muffled quiet. The tension building in the air as the only comfort she hears, is the pounding of her own heart. To the ensorcelled girl, she is none the wiser as she offers her plea to the heartless nothing.
To Kurow.. He can see something stirring. Yes, a presense. A shadow slithering from the rooftops like a ghostly, inhuman thing. A malevolence without sound, without warning of any sort. Creeping slowly as it somehow seems to sense the girl without even really looking in her direction.
Moments later, that shadow congeals. Rising fractionally taller than the puppet himself. A familiar, feminine form.. looming like a dead thing unwilling to allow gravity to claim her.
Kirishima knows.. If this monster truly wished to merely murder this girl, she could have done so by now. With emotionless, ruthless precision she could simply insert a blade into the girl's neck and she would be dead before she even struck the filthy cobblestones of the alleyway. No..
..The soft, feminine sigh liltin through the air. The breathy murmur.. Finally alerting the girl to a presense so close, entirely too close behind her.
This thing wants her to be afraid. She wants her to know fear.. to know horror. To comprehend every last moment of her helplessness. The monster savors it.. flavoring her prey in the way the girl's blood pumps through her veins. The biochemical cocktail of adrenaline and endorphins a man of science would say.
It isn't enough to simply be efficient. Terror.. is everything.
The young girl turns to see the owner of that little sigh, and for a second, Kirishima's control on her, all the deep-rooted hooks and tendrils through her mind give out in the face of raw, primal fear. Even through all that, no one can be turned into a pure automaton -- there's always that shred of what is human, and Marise gets precisely what she wants out of that shred: terror. The girl's face scrunches up for a second, and she starts to run -- but then Kirishima's 'insurance policy' kicks in.
Her legs die. There is an unnatural lock in one of her leg joints as she starts to lift it, and she suddenly stumbles to the ground, falling flat on her face -- and rattling her head just long enough for her natural mind to once again be more completely subverted. She turns over, staring up at Marise, every part of her body betraying her fear -- except her eyes. One as old as Marise no doubt can see instantly that the emotion in those eyes seems twisted, pushed down -- as if there's something more trying to get out, but every time it tries it is struck until the attempts just cease. This girl is not entirely herself...
Kirishima watches, aura suppressed and body hidden, with an impassive eye. He could intervene now, certainly -- he knows what that form is, and what it's capable of. He has at least a passing recognizance of the twisted creature behind that visage -- Lord Vega's war made sure of that. But there's a certain other academic curiosity of his that keeps him from advancing in -just- yet.
He wants to see this demon feed -- at the very least, /start/ feeding. He can approach the monster at that point -- but now, he's curious -- why all the pageantry, from this inhuman thing? He understands it as a tool of manipulation, certainly... but not when playing with something that is, for all intents and purposes, already precisely where it's wanted.
As the girl turns, few could fault her for the surreal terror striking her heart. The pale woman, eyes hidden beneath the veil of black tresses. Staring down at the girl in silent menace.. Purple-painted lips slowly drawing back into a knowing smile. No threats, no words.
As the girl turns to flee, the Devil does not immediately give chase. No no.. Let her run for a little. Let that complete flight work its way through her mind and her thoughts. Its not like she could hope to get away from her. No..
However...
As the girl suddenly stumbles and falls. The Devil similarly takes no steps forward after her. That smile slowly descends a moment as the creature's head tilts.
One does not get as ancient as Marise without being aware of certain tricks. The Ninja can tell the differnece between when someone stumbles out of sheer bumbling incompetance or nerves faultering... and when something stops them from moving.
In a moment that will do nothing to quell the girl's worry, dark bangs part to reveal inhuman, golden eyes. That wicked gaze piercing the girl through as she seeks to gain greater clarity into this prey-animal's plight.
The girl's life-force seems off.. A very.. subtle thing. The Devil's first concern is weither or not this girl is being used as a 'Poison Well' strategem. In the past, the Devil has employed techniques and poisons that infect the chi of others.. to poison whomever would mingle their own life-force with the victim's.
One of the Koga's favored techniques of culling healers, you could say.
This morsel's life has been tampered with.. somehow. A signature that's .. strangely familiar. Slowly, the Devil begins to turn her gaze along the alleyway around her. The glint of those eyes reflecting in the dark like a searching predator's own.
Just incase the girl somehow regains her motor skills.. the Devil take a single step forwards to calmly press her bare foot to the child's ankle. Just to be sure she doesn't run away so fast. No sense in letting a meal go free.. if her hunch is wrong, after all. Sometimes the drugs these children play with can do remarkable damage to their bodily systems that happen to resemble certain malicious techniques..
It seems that demonstration will have to wait -- Kurow Kirishima knows that the 'hiding' part of the game is up the second the Devil stops; she's figured out that /something/ is not quite as it seems, and probably knows better than to eat something that's being literally fed to her once she notices that particular fact. He lets her wait, though -- Kirishima enjoys toying with people, after all, even people as dangerous as the Koga ninja.
Soon enough, however, a shadowed form begins to rise from the waste and filth that lies forgotten in this alleyway. The dimmed humanoid bears a faint resemblance to the /other/ form that rose out of the darkness not long ago, both in technique and in size -- but the differences are obvious, and while the techniques had a common ancestor, no doubt generations of removal have made them quite different. The blackness that hangs around that thin, youthful form soon expands into a sort of bubble around Kurow, pushing the garbage around him just slightly to the sides -- and then, not a second later, shatters like glass, revealing the youth in his entirety to Marise.
"Interesting. I'd considered you as a possibility, but hadn't given it much thought... it's been some time," he says, not even bothering to comment on the girl he's left out for her at first. "At first, I was just curious as to what I was... competing with here, but this opens up new possibilities." He gives the hauntingly beautiful woman a smile, spreading his arms out to either side and slowly slipping his clawed gauntlets off -- not /necessary/ or even much of a bother, but a gesture of good faith just the same. "Do you even remember me?"
The girl beneath Marise's foot noticeably relaxes at Kurow's presence, having gone from 'afraid, albeit half-forced' to 'completely at ease.' His mere obvious presence has a profound effect on her -- all those defense mechanisms instantly fade in favor of a sort of mild euphoria in spite of the entire situation.
And this is why The Devil is still alive.
Marise lives in a world of very dangerous and subtle people. Often the only warning one gets of immediate and eminent death is a single chair left slightly out of place or a singular smudge on a glass window. If there is any warning whatsoever. Certainly, if the Devil was anyone else.. She would never have even begun to be suspicious of this 'bait'. And as is.. She wasn't entirely clear what precisely was wrong with her.
It isn't until the tall figure rises from the filth on the far end of the alleyway does the ghost feel anything resembling vindication. Even then, the Devil very nearly moves to vanish then and there.
The Ninja is out of position. She may have walked right into a trap, and standing in the precise middle of the killzone with a hundred men ready to spring at a given moment. Perhaps hundreds of pounds of explosives beneath her feet moments from detonating.
Marise should know. She's killed many with those precise methods.. long ago.
The only reason the ghoulish monster doesn't retreat instantly? ... This fellow monster is familiar. Hardly reason to hold one's strategy, but this is a somewhat different case.
The shattering shroud of dark only confirms what she had begun to suspect.
"It has indeed.. Kirishima.." The Devil whispers softly.. Her back yet to Kurow as the equally tall young man wanders closer. The Devil's own weapons are.. She is her own weapon. Her claws can never be so easily removed, neither are they often quite so visible. The only obvious precursor to an offense the Devil has, is revealing those wicked eyes of hers. Which, for the moment, are veiled once more behind her locks.
Even as the girl seems to relax, the Devil's foot does not raise. Infact, no motion seems to come from the creature whatsoever. Only the subtle shift of her back, drawing the breath necessary to respond. Her voice.. harrowing. The cadence of her tone is dissonant, as if the atmosphere itself tries to revile her words, "..Yesss.. Of course I remember you.. Commander." At the comment about 'competition' the Devil's lips twist upwards once more slowly, "..If you desire this creature for yourself.." Her toes slowly sliding along the girl's ankle, "..You have but to ask.. Heir of the Kirishima.."
The Devil's forthcoming answers prompt a smile from the youngest of the last two members of the Kirishima family, and he steps closer to her still wearing that smile, glancing down to the girl for but an instant. He keeps his posture non-confrontational, his stance far from his usual combative motions -- this is, after all, to be a peaceful meeting, now. "You'd be surprised how often some forget -- Satsuko, was it?" he says offhandedly, walking around the alleyway, glancing between the two women he shares the space with.
The youth feels at ease in Marise's presence in a way that few could -- after all, they are much the same, most of the divisions between them those of raw time. Even as her dissonant voice rings in the air, he seems as though he'd be no more or less at home in a school cafeteria. "And you're correct -- I do have but to ask. Look at how completely disarmed she is simply seeing me here. You started to notice it, I think -- the fact that her mind is not her own." She still lies there, seeming altogether oblivious to Marise's foot, or the gravity of her situation -- her mind is somewhere else entirely now. "I have little concern for this one. So long as you leave her alive, do with her what you wish."
The younger devil begins to pace, saying, "But... now that we find ourselves here, I feel the need to ask. Just what is it you're seeking, beyond subsistence? I can tell you're not just some petty saboteur who claims membership in that organization Vega hired not so long ago to defend his short-lived kingdom. No, there's something... familiar about you, beyond that. And perhaps something I find -- useful, in associates."
While the boy certainly seems to have let down his guard, the Devil isn't so quick to relinquish what little initiative she has left. The youth so easily discounts that he did manage to successfully bait her.. Something the Devil finds suspect at best. It was only a matter of time until someone tried a similar tactic to uncover her.. illicit activities. The ghoul supposes she should be thankful it was someone.. perhaps a bit more akin to herself.
As Marise hears the name 'Satsuko' she does not speak anything to contradict that name. The false identity is one of the.. lost arts of the Ninja in this day and age, alas. It has served her well from individuals who may well have been more suspicious. Such as this intelligent youth.
As the boy paces, comfortably before her. Only then does the Devil slowly turn to face him. Her arms limply held at her sides, stance utterly lifeless save for the mild expression of her lips.
%Let not her unease be a sign of disrespect. If anything, such caution is a sign that he has indeed gotten the drop on her. Not to mention.. this youth in particular is very much someone the Devil respects. Such arts of manipulation, as he viscerally describes of the woman beneath her, are to be commended. Few live today who could mimic such technique.
As far as his compliment of the Devil noticing, she tilts her head a fraction in acknowledgement.. but speaks no further on that matter.
"Seeking..." The woman whispers softly. Sineous voice slithering through the air, "..Why.. Kirishima.." The Devil only then lifts her foot from the girl, confident she's not going anywhere now that the truth of her malady is revealed. Taking a step closer to Kurow as her veiled gaze finds his own, "..Surely you too.. must know. Tell me.." Turning the question around on him, "..What do all those whom are the last of their kind desire most in this world..?"
A pale hand lifting in a slow, inoffensive gesture seeking to just touch the bottom of his chin with a chilling fingertip should her allow, "..Revenge upon those who made us the last. Yess..? Surely the scion of a long forgotten and erased Clan.. would know this.."
The girl does stand up now that she's allowed, but she stays there, directly behind Marise, in that mindless fog. She follows the conversation, vaguely, and her green eyes do show some faint signs of life, but she is ultimately a sort of window dressing to the conversation -- a convenient sort of prop, something not quite regarded as human. At least, not by Kirishima.
The youth knows enough to trust no name given him by those like himself, but Satsuko is a convenient way of referring to the woman, so Satsuko she will be, at least for now. The Devil could have five hundred names, or even five thousand, and perhaps someday Kurow would try to discern every one of them had he the inclination.
His eyes meet what little he can see of hers through that long black hair, and in that instant, she finally unsettles him just the slightest amount; he shoves it down, but no doubt she can feel it -- there is a slight unease in him, just as there is in her. He brings his hands slightly closer in toward his body as that cold fingertip comes closer, ready to defend himself in an instant -- but nothing comes, and so he lets the gesture go as simply that. "... so you know," he says, his voice flat and unfeeling as the Devil lays his desires bare as she speaks her own. "Yes... we share that desire, at least."
But he is not content with that much, asking, "So, then, who laid your clan low? ... and for that matter, just what clan was it?" Kurow is not one to shy from such questions -- after all, if one is to have allies, one must have a basic understanding of what baggage they bring with them, where they've come from...
The Devil knows not the details, though she seems to have struck a cord in the youth. Her fingertip departing his chin as his flat voice replies smoothly. The fate of the Kirishima Clan is a mystery in the greater circles of Ninjitsu for.. a long time. There are those whom suspected what had befallen their order hundreds of years ago. In truth, the Devil didn't originally make the connection until some time after their fateful battle together against their mutual nemesis in the Shooting Stars and the accursed Futaba girl. There are many boys with the name of Kirishima in Japan afterall, but only upon analysis of his techiques did they match up with what Kirishima-Ryu was said to employ.
Certain details.. Marise filled in the blanks. Recent experienced with the Ryouhara Clan.. as well as her own fallen Clan, paint a very similar picture. It was a guess, a very educated guess, but one none-the-less.
Only as the youth seems to display a bit of.. disquiet at her presense, does she herself seem to relax a little. A slow smile spreading upon painted lips once again as she muses, "Aaah. Surely you must know that information never comes without price.. good friend." Her head tilting slowly, "It is a common sentiment I happen to share with 'that organization' you had mentioned. Hmm? Yess.. You see.."
Taking yet another step closer. This time extremely close.. And there are few women tall enough to look a boy as tall as Kurow in the eye. The glints of gold can just be made out inbetween those wicked locks, "..These children.."
In an instant Marise's hand shoots out behind her. Arm raised with her pale hand -clutching- the neck of the girl behind her without so much as looking, or pausing in her conversation, "..Are simply tools yes..? Means to an end.."
The hand at the girl's throat clutches tightly, not tight enough to choke her painfully.. but a different form of agony wracks her entirely as lines of crimson slowly bleed into the Devil's pale flesh. Veins and arteries bulge within the girl's skin just beyond the areas of contact as her cardiovascular system is tapped and drawn.. The color slowly beginning to leave her as the redness melts into Marise's cold, clammy skin.
"..You understand this better than most.. yess.." The Devil answers his previous question, even as she leeches the life out of Kurow's 'gift', "We must remember dear child.. Why we are alive. The passion of living.. the joys of existance.." Her tongue sliding over her lips lewdly, as if somehow managing to 'taste' what her clutching hand wrings out of the child, "..For the cold.. is the province of the dead and the soulless."
Marise's lips draw back to reveal teeth that are.. entirely too sharp to be human, a feral grin glinting ivory in the pale light as her hand releases the child behind her. Allowing the weakened girl to simply flop to the ground in a heap, "..And I have chosen to live fully.. when all others wish me dead.. One could say.. this is the ultimate revenge."
The girl is snapped from her trance, and the Devil gets its due: she begins to kick, just slightly, and fear reenters -- a minion without a survival instinct once threatened is not a minion but a liability, after all, and that girl certainly has at least enough good sense to be afraid when she is truly, literally being /attacked/. She twitches as Marise steals the life from her; Kurow, however, pays it no mind. After all... he's done the same to her himself. The Koga are not the only one to deal with the theft of life, and prospects of life beyond the typical stretch of human potential.
When he starts to see those flecks of gold, he has to put forth more effort not to let himself be unsettled; he knows from working with her that he far outstrips her in the unlikely event that this somehow turns sour, and that is a piece of faith he clings to in keeping his focus in this conversation. After all... the Devil carries with it many unknowns -- focusing on that one known quantity is reassuring.
"Interesting..." he says, diverting his eyes from hers (a welcome opportunity) and examining her technique, only giving a cursory amount of attention to her words as he murmurs half to himself, "... how easy it is for you -- yet how slow a process. In developing the technique, your clan has emphasized a far different aspect..." It takes him a moment to respond to what she's actually said, having to go back through it.
"But that's not enough. You know as well as I do that that ultimate revenge carries with it a sort of empty feeling -- and also teeters precariously. It's impossible to be content with living in spite of those others." It is a feeling Kirishima knows all too well -- it's why he first took the post-Imawano Darkside Society Organization's task to kill Hyo... and why he's kept with that task even after he sold the men who gave it to him out to Shadaloo for their complicity in the Imawano family's actions. "And you and I both know, of course, that that step beyond the ultimate revenge is at least part of why we're still talking."
The girl falls to the ground, limp; she's breathing, but that's the only sign she's still alive -- and ironically, it's in falling limp that Kurow finally ceases to pay her any attention. After all, the Devil has ceased to feed, and the girl is still alive -- there's little else to worry about, from a strictly utilitarian perspective.
Certainly.. Should this conversation turn into anything else, surely the younger Kirishima would unquestionably be able to defend himself more than adequately against this monster. This is not to say, this creature could possibly make the boy hurt in ways no mere fist or blade has ever before rended his flesh.
Nor is it to say that the danger a Ninja presents is necessarily in their upfront capacity for battle. No, such bluster and saber rattling is the province of the Samurai and other Bushido minded fools.
Beings such as they are not dangerous because of what death they bring to combat.. It is what wickedness they bring when one least suspects it. A grand puppet master such as Kurow is well aware of this. Perhaps some could best him in capability, but few could match him in the variety of ways he can bring his enemies low.
A consideration most would be wise to similarly pay the Devil Ninja.
Marise does nothing to prevent the boy his voyuerstic pleasures as the girl thrashes and squirms in her intractable grip.. only to be tossed asside like the forgettable trash she is. Of course.. The Devil has more efficient means of extracting what she needs of the living. But.. Kurow did stipulate no permanent damage, yes? Besides.. She'll let the critique go without comment.
As for his further commentary about living beyond revenge? .. The Devil simply maintains that smile.
"One step at a time, dear boy. One step at a time.." She whispers softly as she takes yet another step closer. Boldly keeping herself entirely too close to his personal boundries for comfort.. Especially with the chilling radiance her beautiful, if harrowing, body provides, "...Perhaps. Wheels within wheels, webs upon webs.. yess? To all things there is a time.. Mmmn, yesss.." Hidden gaze looming close enough where the tip of her nose nearly brushes his own, "..We must only be patient.. and it shall come."
Subsequent meetings will require far more precaution, far more planning, to be sure -- after all, an agreed-upon meeting brings with it certain risks that one such as this does not. Either party could bring all manner of resources to bear, and Kirishima keeps that in mind as he contemplates the monster he now bargains with. The most dangerous foes, as both of them know, are the ones that seem to give the least immediate threat.
Kurow steps toward Marise, keeping his eyes on those golden flecks between her hair even as she moves in closer, even as she continues giving off that unnerving radiance. If he shrinks from it, after all, it only becomes more powerful, holds more sway over him -- a willingness to compromise, to shrink away is one of the fastest paths to destruction. "In time, yes... but even for those such as us, time is not limitless," he says, shaking his head. "If either of us sees an opportunity, there is hardly any reason not to act on it.
The young man steps even closer to Marise, now, barely an inch from her, his movements not entirely unlike hers. "... but enough of the future. I am... curious, about the present -- just who do you consider an immediate threat to those goals we share?" He gives her a little smirk, saying, "I have to wonder just how much we share -- enemies included."
Aaaah. A young man who's wise enough not to back down.
Just as she, in turn, does not budge an inch. Standing there an inch away as the faint chill of her breath can be felt ever so faintly under his nose.
At the comment about limited time? .... No comment is made. Perhaps there's a slight, flash of something in her eyes.. but hidden as they are behind the veil of those strands it is difficult to say for certain. It is a point, however, that she allows to be made. After all, he is not wrong..
"A threat..? Threats.. Mnhrm.." Her lips pressing into a somewhat self-satisfactory smile, "The advantage is ours.. is it not? Few who yet live would know of my Clan.. and fewer still would know of yours. Yesss? We are privledged to have most few enemies... At least.." The ivory glint of her teeth can just barely be seen, "..Ones who know we are coming for them."
Always cryptic, always dancing around the truth of the matter. But then.. what Ninja worth their salt ever tells the whole truth?
"I suppose.. in due consideration.. One must say the children of this city are all that stand between us and that which we desire most.. Yes?" Only then does her gaze break from Kurow, so she may better regard the alleyway behind him, to the world beyond.
"The children whom fought against us in Thailand. Those who would prefer to see our kind remain what they once were.." Leaning in close once more, seeking to brush her cheek against the younger man's to whisper into his ear with cold, cold breath, "..Storybook tales to frighten them.."
Kurow rarely lies to an ally... but as the Devil no doubt knows, lying is not the only way to conceal the truth. There are a lot of secrets in the profession they share, some of which must be covered up... and some which simply never see the light of day. "Ah, but you should know as well as I do," he counters, narrowing his eyes a little, "that that is a fragile advantage -- there and gone in an instant, with simply the slightest unfortunate coincidence."
He does not shrink from that cold breath, even as it nears his ear; in a way, it encourages him -- it reminds him of another time in Thailand, one that the Koga ninja wasn't even remotely privy to -- to the /effects/, certainly, but the Devil likely has no knowledge of just how Kirishima wormed his way into the head of one of Thailand's would-be freedom fighters, turning her into one of its strongest (if least self-determining) oppressors. Her posture, her gestures... they remind him of himself, and Kurow Kirishima is not in the least above vanity.
"I remember them, yes... and there is one in particular I worry about. She slipped my leash," he says, with a somewhat sour expression, "and /quickly/ besides. Hotaru Futaba is worrisome -- I trust you remember her?" He has no idea of Marise's own experiences with Futaba, of course, so he spends surprisingly little time discussing the young lady. "As for that tenacious young woman from Pacific High, who drove you off..." He cracks a smile at this, saying, "Somehow, I find her less worrisome," letting Marise make of that what she will.
In an instant, Marise spins away from the Kirishima Heir.
Turning on her heel as she hides her expression from him.. A futile gesture as the young man can already tell perfectly well the emotion that plays over the Devil's expression as he brings That Name up.
"...Ho..taru.. Fu..taba.." The Devil rasps in a slow, thoroughly unpleasant tone. A hand slowly rises to cup over her heart, clutching to her breast as if those very words caused some sort of agony to lurch through her decrepid, barely-living system.
Yes. Safe to say that she remembers her.
"She.. Is the most dangerous one of all." The Devil finally states after a long fashion. Convulsing once before her hands fall to her sides in that familiar limp stance, over her brief little.. fit, "The pathetic creatures that assailed me are nothing. She.." The ghoul slowly then turns towards Kurow once more, looking over her moonlight-pale shoulder, "..Has slipped from more than simply your leash, Kirishima." Her gaze then moving away as she muses darkly, "..Few hold a candle to the danger her blood represents."
The reaction that that one name, that simple name, invokes in Marise is actually surprising to Kurow -- the amount of power that that name holds over her, that name that isn't even her own, is staggering. He turns a way for an instant, giving a small smile to the airy nothingness of the Village's back alley; in that instant, he's learned how to push the Devil's buttons... and that, to him, is more valuable than any amount of tactical data he could have on Marise could ever be.
"... I'm aware," he says, bringing that smile back down to a more impassive look as he turns to face the demon, once her convulsions have subsided. "More than anything, her will is strong -- I'd not call it insubvertible, but she has a conviction that surprises me -- and it only grows each time I've met her." The young man glances out the grim, dark alleyway for only an instant, and once he's satisfied with whatever he sees (or doesn't see) in that dim moonlight, he addresses Marise again in a tone that could almost be called accusatory.
"I don't suppose you'd know anything about whatever trials she's gone through," he says, assuming that the Devil tried something with the girl in between their last meetings -- after all, why else would she have such a massive reaction to the mere name of the girl? "Your dealings with Hotaru Futaba haven't gone as well as they did with that miserable creature," he gestures to the limp, unmoving creature to their side, "have they?"
"Better than you could ever imagine.." Marise breathes, staring off in to the distance of the alleyway. Head tilting down a moment later, "..And far worse.."
Yes, Hotaru is a hot-button topic to this Devil. That much is certain, and that reaction does cede a certain level of control. Of course.. At least this creature fully acknowledges what influence the girl possesses.
"..Nor have yours. Kirishima." The Devil retorts with a sudden reclaimation of her own convinctions. Turning to face Kurow yet again with that similarly accusatory retort, "Of that girl I will say this.."
Marise then approaches Kurow yet again. Call it.. professional curtesy. The Devil, indeed, is fond of this wicked boy. As the young man felt a kinship with her, so too does the Devil feel a familiarity with him. He is what this world sorrily lacks in this time and place. Intellect forged with will and ambition. A virtual mirror of herself.. when she was his age. Long ago. As such, she feels compelled to do him a courtesy.
"One day that girl will surpass even a talent as great as your own," Yes, Marise knows well the depth of Kurow's genius, which makes that statement even more.. frightening, "Her blood possesses a strength few Clans have ever known. Her.. poor upbringing is the only limit to what will one day be transcendent ability. Surely.. you have seen it. Even in its naiscent, latent form."
Taking another step closer The Devil then whispers, "Know then.. while the girl may well be the greatest enemy creatures such as we have ever known.. As is, we need only allow events to play their course. And the threat.. Shall simply pass."
Let things simply run their course? Madness -- the world does not simply fall into place, in Kurow Kirishima's mind. And that stinging retort about his own failures only steels his resolve a little; intellect forged with will is certainly a large part of Kirishima -- but ambition outstrips both, and if the Devil truly wanted him to stay his hand, this was perhaps not the correct method. For there is another being out there that Kurow considers himself similar to... a being who taught him that once one surpasses a certain point, there is little more invigorating, at times, than a challenge.
The youth gives Marise a self-superior smirk, staying mere inches from her; his expression is one of complete fearlessness, of pure hubris. "I doubt, after what she has suffered, that letting events simply run themselves out will achieve what we need to achieve. Problems don't solve themselves -- at least, not anymore." The young man finally steps back, not out of fear or compromise but simply to make his break with her thinking more apparent.
He is silent for a time, then finishes, "... but I suppose, on the topic of this one girl, we can simply accept our differing opinions." After all, even if he disagrees with her on some things, Marise is still a creature like himself -- and there are few, in these times.
T"Hotaru is dying."
Marise simply states then in a slow, humorless tone. No smugness in her expression, no real joy in speaking it. That deadpan delivery offers no hint that there is more to that statement than what those fatalistic words fully and truly mean. Her gaze, though hidden, conveys only absolute conviction.
Of those words, they are not opinion. They are, as the Devil's muted expression conveys, complete fact.
Time, itself, will simply rob Kirishima of whatever challenge he would see fit to inflict upon the girl. And, in itself, is reason enough why Marise need not lift a finger to work towards the girl's seduction or ultimate end. It is, as it is, written in stone by the girl's own hand.
The Devil no longer sees a reason to thwart that destiny. This includes attempting to feed this young conqueror's sense of satisfaction by doing so.
That... was not what Kurow was expecting -- but then, sometimes even the best can be thrown for a loop by a new piece of information. Normally, this would be excellent news... which is perhaps what throws Kurow the most about it all. It /isn't/ excellent news. Kurow, for the first time, feels truly that an enemy's demise should be his and his alone to give. Even if it means creating something that could, potentially, destroy him, solely so he can have a chance to deliver that final blow.
"... interesting," he says, delivering his word with the same cold manner that the Devil used not a moment ago. "Still, I find it better to avoid the possibility of miraculous recoveries, of luck. My opinion is unchanged." There are many parts of Kirishima that are like Marise, but then -- he is young. He has much to learn, yet...
... or perhaps his learning is simply taking him somewhere else. The path of the ninja, while an exceptional one, is not the only clear route through the shadows of this world.
"So be it." The Devil states evenly as her head tilts forwards a fraction. As far as the Devil is concerned, let that be the girl's fate, "Beware, Kirishima.." Deciding to reiterate which should be plainly obvious to him, now that the less obvious detail has been brought to his attention, "..Killing the girl yourself will only make her a martyr. A saint before her peers. Peers strong enough to bring down even the likes of Shadaloo. If you are, indeed, so intent to make her into a servant akin to the doll you brought me.."
Tilting her head over her shoulder to regard the poor girl sprawled out a short distance away, "..Know that first you must destroy her heart. There are those she draws upon for strength. Cutting them away from her.. and setting her adrift once again.. is the only way to replace her will, with your own."
The Devil kehs lightly then, smirking faintly, "Should you seek the pleasure of her company.. before her time in life is finished."
Of that, the Devil is content to wash her hands of that matter. Marise indeed got what she desired from Hotaru, there is nothing more to be gained from associating with her. Nothing... save more of what she has already gotten, which the Devil knows to be quite enough.
"There are other matters to attend to in this world, Kirishima..." Broadening the scope of the conversation as the Devil's hands gesture outwards, indicating the city beyond, ".. Powers of old returning once more.. to return the world to what it should have been. Surely you sense it.. do you not? There are others like us.." Sleeved arms again returning to her sides as she inhales slowly, "..Nnnyesss... The hidden Clans return one after the other.. This is no mere coincidence.. No.. not at all. The Kirishima.. The Ryouhara.. Yess.."
Marise's last words on Hotaru prompt a raised eyebrow from Kirishima; if he were, perhaps, just a -tiny- bit more sure what she was thinking, he'd deny it, but unfortunately, the Devil is just inscrutable enough that Kurow has to let it go, rather than allow the Devil an opportunity to make such an insinuation. "Indeed, there are other matters," he says, more than willing to just let the matter of Futaba drop altogether in favor of something the pair can agree on. "As I said, it would be best for us to simply... ignore one another, as far as that particular one is concerned."
And so, he brings his attention to the resurgence of ancient lineages -- a topic, of course, near and dear to his heart. "There is something more to that than meets the eye, certainly," he says, nodding. "However, I am not so sure that some of these returning powers have our -- or, for that matter, /their/ -- best interests in mind. After all, it is often just before they splinter that clans become the most visible... what do you know of the Ryouhara, then? I haven't heard that name in..." Months? Years? Ever? Kirishima doesn't say -- he lets Marise fill in that blank, letting his grave expression lead her mind where it will. "... and then there are the fractured Imawano, of course. There is little left of them -- but what remains are the few men of the clan who could match myself."
The Devil again nods her head to the youth's reiterated suggestion. It is, as he says, for the best. She is more than willing to allow his words to be the final ones on that matter. Marise's involvement with Hotaru's life is over, as far as the Devil is concerned. They have both left... lasting marks upon eachother. Fair enough to leave it at that. Perhaps one day they will meet again.. Yes. One day..
"Aaah.. Yes, of this there is much to consider.." The Devil turns fully to Kurow again as he posits yet a few more questions, and lets slip a tidbit of his own. To this.. The creature gently shushes. Lifting a finger to her violet lips and softly hushing the youth in a manner that is mildly reproaching, but more of a reminder.
It was chance alone that lead them to this place. Speaking openly of such sensitive topics is not best done out here.. Being such as they know the walls quite often have ears. Speaking of these matters infront of Kurow's chattel would necessitate the girl's murder for overhearing things that neither can afford any witnesses to.
And murder is getting harder to clean up these days, even in a town such as this. Waste not, want not.. after all.
"However.. perhaps we should discuss these matters another time, yes? Under more.. private circumstances." The ghoul whispers.
In a blur of motion, the Ninja's arm whips forth. Her wrist emerging from her sleeve as she tosses a quick, flat object that spins through the air in a soft hiss.
A gesture one as attentive and calculating as Kurow can easily catch out of the air without barely paying attention. A simple business card. A false name and a false address with a false phone number.. But one that gives Kurow a lead to contact her at a later date.
Murder? Hardly. Kurow Kirishima has never been one to use a sledgehammer when a scalpel will do -- if she couldn't remember it, where would be the bother? Still, psychic 'surgery' of the reconstructive sort is becoming more common these days... and Kirishima, like Marise, is loath to take /too/ many risks -- so when the Devil suggests that it might be better to discuss such things another time, he willingly acquiesces. "... I see your point," he says, nodding firmly. "Another time."
Catching the card with the tip of a slightly-pointed fingernail that could not /quite/ be called a claw, Kirishima slides it into his pocket without so much as giving it a second glance. He can examine it later, under better light, in a better place. His business here, after all, is drawing to a close. "This meeting has been enlightening, 'Satsuko.' It is... refreshing to meet with someone who will not default to shooting fireballs in every direction the second something seems off." His expression seems to be a genuinely pleased one this time -- he certainly seems to think highly of the ghoul.
"If our business is concluded, then, I suggest you get out of earshot as quickly as possible -- for your own safety, you understand." He steps back toward his discarded claws, explaining, "I can help her summon at least enough strength to get herself home... but it would be best to take more than typical precautions." The youth doesn't bother to go into detail; the Devil is a smart woman. She can fill in the blanks on her own.
The Devil simply then bows her head. A formal, graceful gesture of sincere respect.
Yes, they both have much in common. This boy's skill and intellect at his age.. quite possibly surpasses the Devil's own when she was that old. And.. unfortunately.. most certainly now. But that fire of ambition.. Oh yes.. She knows it well.
Perhaps with a little bit of tempering.. a little bit of guidance.. This Kurow could be something even more extraordinary than he already is. He has all the tools he requires, merely now the proper focus.
How much would she give, afterall, if she could go back in time and tell a younger version of herself precisely what to prepare for? The depths of treachery those would go to bring her low? Yes.. She would give much for that.
"Until we meet again... Kurow-san." The Devil's voice slowly fades as she turns to quietly walk in the opposite direction of the alleyway. With an abrupt gesture, a parasol snaps out from the depths of her sleeve.. elegantly slipping over her shoulder and obscuring her from the dim moonlight above.. As if hiding her away from the eye of heaven, as she simply fades into the shadows that spawned her. Leaving Kurow to clean up the details of his quite successful 'baiting' experiment. His bold plan earning him an ally.. and a useful one at that.
Log created on 00:21:46 10/01/2007 by Marise, and last modified on 02:31:08 10/03/2007.