Description: After Mizuki's defeat at the hands of Kimi, Alma, bound by honor not to interfere in their battle, takes it upon himself to take Mizuki to his apartment for healing. Once she wakes, a brief discussion happens on the significance of what happened. (Opposing Forces pt. 2)
Fingers of sunlight reach through the opened blinds of the large bay windows, tracing spirals through the air as they reflect off what little dust floats through Alma Towazu's well-kept apartment. Though a simple affair at heart, the young man's cleanly nature, grasp of aesthetics, and delicate touch have turned this place into a cozy, stylish abode that any visitor would find welcoming. If there were ever any visitors.
When your heart is always open, there's no need to open your door...
At least, it just never occurs to him to try.
The place is rather small, but specific placement of his furniture makes it seem roomier than it is. Economic use of space has allowed him to convert his one walk-in closet into a small workout room, and the kitchen and bathroom are left bright and airy. These all lead off from the main room, the centerpiece of which is a large and comfortable-looking white couch and a rather impressive -- and basically unused -- entertainment system, one of the handsome self-sufficient youth's few real indulgences. The coloring is soft and warm and always tasteful, down to the curtain, dyed in autumn tones, that shrouds the doorless entrance to his bedroom.
That is to say, where Mizuki is presently.
As for Alma, he is emerging from the kitchen just now, humming quietly to himself and seemingly in a kind of pleasant trance. As he sees the sun rising through the blinds, he smiles softly and lifts them, looking out at his view of the city. Flour dusts his hands; the scones are in the oven now, and all he has to do is wait. Usually this is how he does it; he just stares out the window, sometimes for half an hour straight, peacefully awaiting the baking of the dough.
It's extremely weird, but no one has had the opportunity to call him on it yet.
Hair still damp from his shower, the model wears his semblance of pajamas, loose linen pants and a figure-hugging white tank top. Though he appears to be just spacing out -- which admittedly is what he usually does -- he's actually considering certain problems at hand. Mizuki's injuries weren't so severe that it seemed as though she needed to go to the hospital, especially with both of their latent healing abilities; even he has to admit that it's kind of a lame excuse, as taking her to the hospital, or at least the YFCC infirmary couldn't have hurt, but...
~ Really, I just wanted to be close to her. ~
After the courage she displayed, he didn't have the heart to let her go.
So he didn't. He spent the night on the couch, and she swathed in blankets on his bed. The question of her ice-dampened school uniform was a difficult one; he had to think hard about it. In the end, his duty to preserve her health won out in spite of all the trouble it might cause him, and closing his eyes tightly, the young man gingerly removed her outer layers, being sure to throw towels and blankets all over her before opening his eyes again. She's got a good head on her shoulders. She'll understand. She'll trust him. He hopes.
Hopefully her clothes will dry soon.
As Alma considers the potential consequences of his choice, Mizuki, when she awakens, will find herself in a room very few others have seen. Windowless, light emanating through the curtain and from a low-lit lamp by the nightstand, the room is in the same warm and subdued colors as the main room, with only a few markers to distinguish it. There are no decorations on the wall. There's a bookshelf, but most of them seem to be schoolbooks. The closet door is closed; there's probably a lot in there, of course. But all that really seems of interest is the desk, upon which there is little-- including the one piece of decoration Alma seems prepared to display.
A photograph of a widely smiling Portuguese woman, a stoic Japanese man with the slightest of grins, and a cheerfully laughing blond young boy...
It's lucky that Mizuki was knocked out for all of that. Of course, it's unfortunate that Kimi took the coward's way out--or the pragmatist's way out--but at least this way Alma got to uh... well, not really see, right?--Mizuki in a way that very few have. And no, her injuries weren't life-threatening--though she has her share of lacerations and contusions.
It's also lucky she was knocked out for other reasons; while her ability to heal is powerful, her aura has been injured by Kimi's assault--probably it's a little bit psychosomatic... but she's not healing herself in any way other than naturally. This is good because it's allowing her aura to heal as well.
Though the light is low, the body is very susceptible to changes in light... so even the dim sunlight that barely filters through is enough to wake her. "Unnhhh... where...?" Her voice is weak, thick with sleep--truly, she slept deeply. And, she's so out of it she doesn't realize her predicament, at least not immediately. Her head turns--left... then right--in small increments, as her body immediately reminds her, with dull pain, just how badly she was beaten up by her opposite number.
Muzzy and confused, she says the first thing that comes to mind as a coherent thought. "... Alma...?"
Alma glances away from the window, smile fading slightly.
For a moment he cannot help but remember the events of last night at the sound of her voice, and lowering his head, gazing down at the thick carpet through his damp low-hanging bangs, he sighs once. He wasn't even the one being attacked, and /he/ feels emotionally exhausted.
Well, she's in worse straits than he is, that's for sure. He smiles to himself immediately again, at first just at his own foolishness, and it only grows as he approaches the curtain and pulls it aside, letting the sunlight brighten the room. Framed by the light, Alma slips his still flour-dusty hands into the pockets of his loose pants and smiles softly down at her, the faintest expression of concern etched onto an otherwise gentle and welcoming expression.
"Good morning, Mizuki."
The tall youth is silent for a moment, still contemplative.
"Scones are in the oven."
His smile widens for a moment, then recedes as concern grows more evident.
"How... do you feel?"
'How do you feel'. One of the more loaded questions that can be asked--usually, when it's asked, the asker already knows... and Alma, especially, should know 'how Mizuki feels'. But she'll answer all the same, because that's the polite thing to do, isn't it? And besides, she appreciates the question.
"I--" She pauses, taking stock of her body, before she just gives the standard answer. "--I... feel okay. I think. Mostly." Yeah, all her limbs are in place, nothing's missing... all her teeth are there...
"... I..." She peeks under the covers. Then flushes almost as red as her hair.
"... I'm not... not wearing my... clothing." Slowly, her head tilts up to look at Alma.
Alma pauses.
"Right."
His expression grows carefully blank.
"About that."
He lifts his hand, pointer finger extended upward, and pauses for another long moment, lips parted. He stays this way for at least a few seconds, the handsome youth apparently just at a loss.
"You were all wet," he finally says, "so I had to take off your clothes."
Pause.
"They're hanging out to dry," he adds, "but they'll be done soon, I'm sure."
Pause, longer this time.
"Oh!" he suddenly adds again, blinking, seeming to just realize. "And I closed my eyes while I did it, so, ah, don't worry."
*ding*
"Would you like a scone?" Alma continues, a little desperately.
For a moment, Mizuki isn't sure -what- to think. Alma's a gentleman! But... she also did the same thing to him... or at least, someone did... she looks woefully confused and her expression is probably pretty funny as she works through it all. And... finds... that she's basically okay with it.
"I see," she says, rather calmly, making sure that she's covered by blankets and towels... "I... appreciate the help, Alma-kun. Really." And her voice conveys the sincerity in those words. And then, another pause.
"... no, I think I'm okay." Now? Now is time for the abrupt change of topic. "... do you think I'm unsexy?" Of all the things to remember about last night.. of course she'd pick that.
Alma is definitely not laughing, no matter how entertaining Mizuki's shifting expressions might otherwise be. He is on the verge of, as Kimi was the night before, 'sweating bullets'. Will she consider him to have betrayed her trust after all? If so, will she be angry with him? If so, will she be angry enough to get out of bed? If so, will he see her--
Oh. She's fine.
"Sure," he manages, "my ple-- er-- it's an honor."
Even beat up she's got a good handle on herself. Despite himself, Alma feels another rush of affection for the level-headed girl. He smiles again, seeming to relax a little, and nods when she declines breakfast for now. "I understand. Take your time." The tall young model lowers his gaze, hands still in his pockets, and moves to turn away. "I'll just--"
*WHAM*
Recovering from his stumble and rubbing the elbow he banged loudly against the side of the door, a wincing but wide-eyed Alma turns back hurriedly to look at the apparently still-dazed girl. "Wh-- /what/?" He seems even more unnerved than when Kimi accused him of a lolita complex. "But, I... closed my eyes only because... ah... why... oh..."
~ That's right. Her opponent kept taunting her. I just thought... ~
Biting his lower lip, flustered Alma attempts to regain some composure.
"Well..."
Settling down, he pauses for some time, expression softly softening.
"...you have potential."
And he grins, eyes warming.
"Come back in a year or two."
Tone mild and good-natured, the softly grinning young man turns toward his closet, still rubbing his elbow slowly.
"Do you want to get up and sit out in the main room with me? You can wear one of my shirts or something, if you like... or we could just stay in here."
He looks back toward her, gentle again.
"Unless you'd rather be alone, of course."
Oh. _Oh._ That wasn't what Mizuki was expecting. Her eyes widen in surprise... and then her expression breaks into something resembling a comforted look. At least she's comforted emotionally, somewhat... even if her body is still aching. And her smile is warm, and genuine. "Thank you, Alma-kun," she says, again. _Would_ she rather be alone...? No, she wouldn't.
"If you have a shirt big enough... that'd be fine... I think I can get up and walk around some... it'll probably be good for me." She pauses. "And you should probably know what the story is behind... that girl... and myself.
She grimaces. It's a subject she'd thought was theoretical... not practical and real.
Alma nods once, his smile fading.
"Yes."
~ I'm glad she's willing to tell me. ~
Turning to open his closet, the model silently peruses his impeccable wardrobe before selecting a snap-up overshirt in shifting shades of green, snug on him but doubtless loose on her. Unconsciously, he automatically selects something that will look good with her red hair. "This should work." Given their differences in height, it should be long enough to preserve the miko's all-important modesty. It may not /quite/ reach her knees, but it should come close.
He sets it on his bed near her feet, flashing her another smile. "Come out whenever you're ready," he adds, before turning away and stepping out through the curtain, closing it as he goes. It's not closed as fully as before, perhaps only three-quarters closed -- on the side away from the kitchen, though, so there's no chance of Alma being able to see in -- and it lets the sunlight in better, lighting up the corners of the cozy room. If Mizuki has not yet scanned the room, she will indeed see, as mentioned before, that despite the tastefulness exhibited in the minimal decor there's really not much to see. Unless she wants to explore his wardrobe further. Or notices that photograph.
The delightful smell of scones wafts in from the outer room.
It doesn't take Mizuki -too- long to pick up the shirt and put it on; mostly she just has to move slowly due to tender, abused muscles. She's also using the time to think... but she doesn't take too long. The shirt -is- indeed long enough, though Alma'll get an eyeful of long leg, and after Mizuki makes sure her hair is up in its usual ponytail, she finds a pair of slippers, puts them on, and heads out the door.
The smell of the scones does in fact make her hungry, and she quietly eyes them for a moment before going into the living room and slipping down onto the comfiest-looking chair. This would be easier with a mug of tea or something to hold--but Mizuki just tucks her legs underneath her and begins, her blue eyes unfocused.
"You've seen my family's village--our compound. The Kamigawa have been living there for... centuries. A long time ago, my family served as... advisors... to the Emperor of Japan. But eventually, the Kamigawa wanted to fade away from that work."
A pause.
"Well, most of the Kamigawa."
The comfiest-looking piece of furniture in the main room would probably be the couch, and the coffee table placed in front of it is perfect for what follows: that is to say, the scones. Oven mitt still sheathing his hand, Alma emerges from behind the now seated girl to quietly set a plate with several large, steaming blueberry scones, appearing delectably soft and moist. He's had a lot of practice.
"Yes."
He's still listening, even as he silently backs toward the kitchen only to quickly re-emerge with -- lucky! -- two mugs of tea. Psychic abilities, perhaps? Well, no, just common courtesy by his standards. But think what you like.
He seats himself by the girl's side, setting her mug down on the table before her next to the scones to pick up if she likes. He leaves the scones alone himself, cradling his own tea in his hands.
He listens attentively, nodding a little occasionally.
"Mmhm."
Even as his gaze casually strays down to the girl's legs.
Wh... what.
Tucking a stray lock of red hair behind her ear, Mizuki doesn't even notice Alma's looking... she's dredging up the facts, the histories, the stories... trying to weave them into a coherent whole.
"The Kamigawa... we... have had knowledge of certain techniques. You might call them 'dark' techniques. It sounds... mystical... but these were powerful, powerful techniques whose usage would corrupt... a soul." Mizuki smiles briefly.
"Kind of like the 'Dark Side' in that Star Wars film series, I guess. But it wasn't literal... it's just that they... the mindset needed to be able to use them without harming yourself... you had to let go. To not care." Absently, Mizuki reaches out, taking the mug, finding solace in its warmth.
"The Kamigawa--" Odd, how she keeps referring to her family like that... "--decided to abolish these techniques that were so useful to the Emperor at the same time that they removed themselves from service. The members who disagreed... left."
"The Kamigawa didn't try to stop them. And that is our biggest shame."
After further consideration, half a year might be enough.
No, seriously though, by the time she gets to 'dark techniques' Alma is looking back up and at the girl's troubled face. His, er, cursory re-examination of what he last saw during their practice match complete -- with with only the faintest of flushes on his dusky cheeks to show for it -- the young man seems quite intent on her words, taking the occasional quiet sip of his tea.
"I see," he murmurs. "The kind of detachment that breeds heartless evil."
~ I can't even imagine living like that. ~
"So this... branch family... still exists today?"
~ What sort of techniques would be worth a passionless life? ~
Finally, Mizuki raises the mug to her lips. She breathes in the astringent steam of the tea, lets the scent soothe her. And she sips.
"... heartless... I don't know. She didn't seem heartless. But... she could be. They... apparently do. Rumor has it that they call themselves the Kurogami... that they sell their services." Assassins, in other words. Mizuki's eyes drop her gaze into the tea, as if it has answers for her.
"But there were also rumors that they'd died out... I guess those were the false rumors." Mizuki sets her teamug down and shakes her head. "I--I'm sorry, Alma. I'm feeling... tired again. Can I rest..."
... well, it isn't exactly a question, because really, Mizuki just kind of slumps against Alma, already asleep, her body and emotions still taxed.
Log created on 01:49:43 10/06/2007 by Mizuki, and last modified on 22:13:23 10/08/2007.