Description: The Devil of Koga visits Hotaru once again amidst a rare eye of the storm in their lives. The origins of Hotaru's newfound power are revealed, as well as the purpose of this dark evolution. A seed long ago planted has finally come to fruition through recent events and Marise has come to harvest. What terrible pacts are forged this night? What shocking secret does Hotaru desperately wish to uncover? Will Hotaru ever be able to look herself in the mirror again? An interlude of destiny.. before the storm continues.
In a couple of weeks it will have been one year since Hotaru's return to the fighting leagues after a few seasons spent exploring the world, finding herself in other nations, living life differently for a while. Before her haitus her career had been relatively hit and miss. A Neo League match here and there; Howard's league hadn't even been created yet. But this second tour through the circuits has been a lot difference. A regular face, a popular fighter, a disarmingly gentle persona in a world of machismo, bravado, and brutal fighters, she drew her own sort of fans in record time and became a mid tier draw at her appearances.
Win or lose, she had her crowd cheering for her. For one who was striving to represent the Futaba family in the world of fighters, one couldn't really ask for a better start than she had had in the last year. The league and SNF officials had their fun with the innocuous looking fighter - setting her up juxtaposed against some of the more violent, ruthless combatants the world had to offer, just to draw ratings, and she continued showing up all the same.
But in recent weeks something had changed. Though they had continued to enlist Hotaru as the 'face' participant of their wacky venues, there was something about how the girl was fighting as of late that made their attempts fall flat on their face. Aggressive, striking to wound, injure, and destroy in as few blows as possible, the Hotaru the fighting world had come to know seemed to have vanished over night.
And her fighting invitations changed to echo it. Invited into grittier and gritter fights, she continued to show up. It seemed no set up was too violent for the girl. She shirked nothing, she avoided no opponent. This evening was no different. A bloody fight in a lowered cement pit within a seedy bar. She had no place being there but there she was, and by the time she was finished, no one could question that she certainly fit in just fine. Even now her opponent had experienced medics looking over him, trying to make sense of the bloody mess that was supposed to be his chest and wondering if they were going to have enough plaster to cast the broken bones.
Just off the pit in a dingy locker room, the girl has retired to clean up. Not to tend to her own injuries but rather the residue of her opponent's. Her vest unbuttoned, red blood stains the white blouse she has on. A towel rests around her neck, absorbing some of the perspiration rolling down from her hairline. She had held nothing back even though the instant she stepped into the ring she knew her opponent had nothing on her. How could he? She was following her brother's footsteps and Gato never would have considered that man a challenge. So neither could she.
Still, in spite the ease of the fight, she feels tired. Seated on a bench, her right hand is held up, clenched into a fist in front of her. Her forearm is still red, the girl having only wiped at it some with the damp white towel in her left hand. Not a drop of it is hers, she knows. There it exists, crimson victory, proof of her superiority. Yet, for as powerful as she had proved she was, why did she find herself so dissatisfied?
"Magnificent... Isn't it?"
A dark, breathless voice slithers through the dimly lit, seedy locker room. A familiar sound like a faded echo, stirring the air not at all with its passage.. But feeling intimately close.
How long the tall shadow has been leaning against the triumphant girl's temporary locker, its hard to say. Her voluminous sleeves are folded together placidly, a single perfect knee parting her kimono with her bare foot set upon the chill metal behind her. Glimmering, hellish eyes illuminate from the darkness of her long hair, conveying a sense of .. Many things.
Eldritch eyes settling upon the blood coating the girl's hand like a glove, matching the girl's own morbid stare.
"So beautiful.. so perfect.." Violet painted lips murmur the words slowly as those golden orbs hood to mere slits. Thoughts stirring in remembrance, "Told you.. I did. Believed me? ... Kn hnn.. You did not. At least.."
A hand slips from the sleeve, fingers spreading slowly as the Devil examines her razor-ed nails carefully, "..Not at first."
It was only a matter of time. Surely Hotaru had known this to be true. She invokes the name of the Devil Ninja's Master with every bloody victory. A secret only the two in this dank, wretched locker know.
At least.. Half of the secret.
"Keh.. I remember when I first met you." Marise's fingers curling as she turns her hand inwards, inspecting every detail of her nails and fingers. So pale and lifeless, but not quite as much as it once was, "..So very frightened. I could smell it in the air.. I could see your heart. Trembling.. Hoping..."
The creature's head tilts then, regarding the smaller warrior with a burgeoning grin, "..But now.." Her voice simply trails.. Not feeling a need to elaborate on what she witnesses within Hotaru now.
Hotaru knows all too well.
At the sound of another voice, Hotaru jumps, her mouth agape for a moment as she gasps in surprise, blue eyes widening as she's startled from her silent reverie. At first it's being surprised by someone being there at all, but as her attention snaps to Marise, the girl already rising to her feet to face her as if intending to lash out at whoever it is who saw fit to sneak up on her, her right hand already tightening.
And then she freezes in place, mouth closing, face paling slightly, doing nothing to interrupt Marise's spoken observations. She does recoil, however, as the woman's eyes settle on her blood soaked hand. Her left hand snaps down, drawing the towel from off the bench and wrapping it around her right arm, as if ashamed to have been caught contemplating the gore made manifest by her recent victory. Only when her arm is covered is the girl able to look back at Marise, jaw set, mouth tight lipped. Part of her wants to just strike out. With the power she has now, could the horrible creature before her possibly survive?
But then again... just who's power is it she's been lashing out with in her fights? Ever since Frei's brother showed her that she shouldn't hold back... that she had it within her to go all out... Her mouth twitches, the words she seeks not coming to mind. How to answer the fiend that so gleefully declares that she was right from the beginning? Finally Hotaru rips her gaze from Marise, going so far as to turn her back to the woman, her elbow resting against the concrete wall. It's easier then, to not look her in the face.
"I'm just using what is rightfully mine," the girl states quietly. "People who face me know what they're getting into. It isn't my fault. My brother would never hold back either. It isn't wrong." the girl insists, feeling strangely condemned by the woman's acknowledgement of her 'growth' in power. "That's all that has changed. I still am nothing like you. I won't go that far. I just..." She rubs the towel around her right arm, the ache of drawing upon /that/ power still wracking her muscles beneath the cloth.
"It isn't the same," she insists, her voice falling quiet, "...as you."
The Devil's presence is felt only when the creature wishes it. And a wicked presence it is.
The underground locker was already cool from the cement walls and floor, but grown cooler still since the creature deigned to reveal herself. The echoes of their voices dampening, muted and subdued.
At Hotaru's jump and moment of threat, the Devil does not flinch or budge even as she stares down what is unquestioned oblivion.
No.. That is not a fate she fears. Not now.
Predatory eyes follow the youngling's movements, watching her with a haunting intensity. Her expression.. difficult to read. The emotions behind the creature's beautiful face are across the spectrum.
Pride. Rage. Envy. Grief. Joy. Vindication. Hotaru is no simple conquest to this creature, not anymore. Not with their history.
Not with what this girl has done to her... Or what the Devil has done to the girl in turn..
"Of course.." The Devil's lips caress that word. Head tilting as she unfolds her arms ever so slowly, drawing herself from the surface of the locker in the manner of an uncoiling serpent, "Of course it is yours.. Your gift. You can see that now.. can you not?" The woman slowly approaches as Hotaru's gaze is torn away by her own torment.
"Nothing like me?" The creature murmurs. Her fingertips daring to gently touch Hotaru's tresses, smoothing out the soft silk long bereft of those childish pigtails.. As she had once did. "Upon a time.. you nearly convinced me that was not true.." Her other hand slowly reaching out. Spidery fingers hovering over the girl's shoulder.. not touching her directly, but gesticulating in the manner of a witch over a brewing cauldron, "...But you wield Lord Maou's murderous fist.. You have learned to embrace your anger. Embrace the birthright of your family. You see it now.. don't you?"
The monster leans closer, just enough to catch the aroma of the girl's hair. Serpentine eyes fluttering upwards at the invoked memory, "... Embracing what is rightfully yours.. is giving you everything you've ever desired. Respect. The respect of your brother.. your father. The world."
A cold fingertip gently brushes at her chin, "..Yourself. Do you not see...?"
For weeks she has felt more powerful than she had ever felt in her life. For weeks in fights she has outclased her opponents severely. The towering Birdie crushed, the optimistic Zach devasatated in three powerful blows... Officials have pitted her against fighters years ahead of her and while she may have been knocked unconscious before the end, her own contributions in damage were so severe as to help provide victories for her teams nonetheless. Compared to recent months of lackluster results in her fights, the change has been impossible to deny.
But right now all of that power, confidence, undeniable destiny seems to wither beneath the creature's eyes. Even with her back turned she can feel her. The hauntingly cool locker room air; the light touch of those ghastly fingers on her hair... Hotaru breaths in at the contact from Marise, but she doesn't move from her spot, her back still turned for the time being. "Yes," comes the soft admission. She does see it now. "I thought the price was too great. I thought I-..."
Frei talked about the cost. The toll for a shortcut taken. All her life she had toiled the hard way, struggled to keep up in a world dominated by those far stronger than she. "... I'm not sure what the cost is yet. I..." Why is she admitting anything to this woman? Marise may have helped her solve one of her problems, but it wasn't out of the kidness of her THEN non-existant /heart/. Merise leans in low and while Hotaru remains rooted for a moment she finally pulls away, taking a step forward and whirling around on her toes to face the woman, blue eyes ablaze.
"What did you come here for? To gloat? Is that what it is? Did you think that I care what you think? Last time- ... at the dojo... when I saw you I said I could end you. That hasn't changed, demon." She takes another step back, putting distance between them - symbolic of the seperation she insists *IS* there between her and the yellow eyed monster. Her right hand tightens beneath the cloth...
It manifests a moment later, the white towel blackening then combusting over her fist, startling Hotaru even in the process as she shakes her arm, stepping back, the smoldering fabric dropping to the concrete floor where it ceases to burn. Remaining is the churning energy in her palm, that red-orange radiance, anger made substance, power raging to be used, demanding she strike out at whatever threatens her. Panting, the prospect of attacking Marise only becomes more insistant. That is the way of things, is it not? In the end there is no room for two blessed of Lord Maou...
But Hotaru holds back, her left hand clutching at her right wrist, the child turning to the side, her shoulder coming to rest against another locker opposite of where Marise had appeared. Gasping, she forces the malevolent force to withdraw, the flame in her hand diminishing, her eyes squinted closed. The horror... the horror of what she has become... weighs heavily now.
As Hotaru whirls on the monster, the ghost does not draw away in the slightest. Facing down this rage as she remains leaning forwards, just enough to remain at eye level with the furious young woman. Even as Hotaru's burning fist threatens to blast the wicked thing into oblivion and securing her rightful place as Maou's disciple, Marise's eyes secure upon Hotaru with a look that can only be described as anguish.
Heartache.
"You could have been mine. ...You know." The Devil's words softly offer while staring down certain destruction. From her, that language could be considered a threat or a boast.. But the true meaning of those words is not lost. As Marise's bangs have parted widely with her posture, the dim lighting casts clarity over her fine, beautiful features. Reminding Hotaru of a fact that has been lost in the shuffle of conflict between the two. A revelation she had noticed once, but had since tried to forget.
Marise looks so very much like Hotaru's own mother, long since departed.
As Hotaru falls to the side, clutching at her wrist.. burning with its own power.. the Devil's expression becomes weary, disappointed perhaps. A slow, tired exhale as the ghost re-straightens silently. Standing taller as she tilts her head, "My family is dead, Hotaru. My clan, murdered. I am not so arrogant as to believe myself immortal. What then of the Koga when I am gone?"
The Devil takes another step closer, her hands outstretched plainly, fingers spread, "You have already learned part of Koga-Ryu, Child. I can teach you the rest. You have tasted perfection. You've seen what greatness my Clan's birthright can grant you. I can show you.... Complete your training. You can carry on the legacy of my people. You can be what.." Marise's voice drifts. Her eyes shift slowly to the side.
"...I had a little girl.. Once." The Devil slowly lowers herself onto the nearby locker-room bench, balancing herself with one hand as her eyes look somewhere beneath the floor, "..She would have been.." Golden gaze rising to Hotaru anew, weighing the thought a moment as she simply chuckles. Dismissing the notion, "..Doesn't matter now."
So this is the punishment of the Gods. That she should grow in strength.. as Marise diminishes? A cruel twist of fate. But then, Marise knows that life.. is cruelty.
One must be cruel in turn.
"I only wish to give you the remainder.. of what you have already embraced." The Devil's voice regains strength, hardening her expression with force as she returns to her prior track. Razored nails curling upon the wooden finish of the bench, coiling hard ribbons in their wake, "You do want what is yours.. do you not?"
Suppressing it takes effort. She's noticed that as of late. It comes out in fights - that craving, that need to strike, the power errupting from her arm; so small, fragile a looking thing that limb of hers, yet so much destruction has been wrought by her hand in recent weeks. The momentary exhilaration when the deadly Maou Satsujinken strikes her foes, the look of abject shock on their faces. It's just proof that they expected nothing of the sort from the diminutive fighter. Their surprise alone condemning them along with all the rest who have underestimated her in her mind. They don't take her seriously... until then.
But the thrill is momentary. There's the emptiness afterward. It's been getting less noticeable of late, but she hasn't forgotten it entirely. That sense that she has lost something every time she draws upon that forbidden technique. But that emptiness has been filled by something else. A craving. Something she's struggling with this very moment. But it passes, for now, Hotaru turning her head to the side to look at Marise seated on the bench. And for a moment she sees something she didn't expect. A woman. A living, breathing, human being. A... mother?
The young fighter's eyes widen slightly. The prospect seems impossible. How could this fiend- how could /she/... "What happened to her," the girl asks, her tone demanding, her need to know strangely distressing to her.
But in the air hangs a question even more important and Hotaru gazes back silently. Less angry, yet no less calm. Her eyes dart back and forth, looking at Marise, meeting her gaze, then tearing her focus away, her brow furrowed as she tries to make sense of things that seem impossible to unravel. She watches Marise's nails carve through the bench, their unnatural strength impossible to miss.
She asks such a simple question, does she not? How could Hotaru not want what is hers? How could she resist the call now? Those inhibitions that strained to keep envy, loneliness, and desperation in check have been stripped free by Kataki's cajoling lies. What is there left to hold her back now?
Slowly her right hand rises, palm open, coming to rest at her neckline as the girl stares back. "That is all I want, yes." "It is my birthright. It is the power of the Futaba lineage. Anything less would be showing scorn to my father and shaming my brother. But... my destiny does not share a path with your clan. How could it? My... my family has nothing... to do..." What is with that similarity? Why does she look like... no... Hotaru pales, shaking her head. "What of your daughter. What happened??" she snaps, clinging to the shift in topic with desperation of a soul drowning.
The Devil's eyes close. Her head bowing slowly as that insistent question is raised.
Pain. If Marise had known the true price of claiming part of Hotaru, she would never have done it. There was a transaction between them, that fateful night. A pact.
Hotaru gained strength and power.. that only through the influence of another she would allow herself to use.
Marise gained something else. Something she has tried to bury and control ever since.
Regret. Guilt. Sorrow.
Things that no murderer, no monster of her calibur can ever endure for long. Things she tore free from herself so long ago.. Only now returned to haunt her. A life-time of wickedness suddenly given conscience and its killing her as assuredly..
..As assuredly.
The Devil remains silent for many uncomfortable seconds. Forcing her breathing to slow, become more even. Less animate. Less alive. "That.. does not matter.. Now." The woman repeats in a low, firm tone. Dispelling weakness that threatened to infect the tone of her voice. She finds it easier to let memories be buried so they can no longer hurt her. A simple enough thing for the average person to manage.. All have their cross to bear, after all.
Marise is new to that sensation.
However, as the young warrior declines the offer point blank, the wicked woman's gaze slowly lifts once more. Meeting the girl's snapped expression in grim accusation, "You're forgetting something." Slowly rearing hear head as she looks upon the girl down the length of her nose, "It is getting worse.. isn't it? The pain in your arm? Crawling ever higher.. inch by inch. Weakness overtaking your heart a day at a time.."
The Devil's fingertips brush asside the wooden coils shorn from the wooden finish of the bench, "You have been given a taste of power, girl, but you have not yet mastered it. Unless you complete your training.. your 'lineage' will kill you in the end." Her eyes drifting to the fist the girl was clutching mere moments ago, the corner of her lip twisting upwards, "..Perhaps sooner than later.."
The girl from before, were she to realize that it was a part of herself that nurtured that weakness she sees now in Marise, would have felt confused, uncertain, reluctant to make miserable even something like the devil woman before her. The girl that leans against the wall now for support, however, would be more likely to laugh. After all, it's just one more victory against those who thought she too weak to do anything about it. There's a reason she was a target time and time again, after all. Back then she probably deserved it. Weak, meek, easily forced one way or another according to the whims of others...
Marise refuses to answer her demanding question, pushing the matter aside with what seems a forced effort, and part of the girl wants to pounce on that. Demand the woman humor her. Answer her question, damnit. What right does she have to hold secrets from her now? Has she not shown her everything? The village of the Koga, the person she once was, the side of her sacrificed to pursue the power she had, in times past, gained. Hasn't she seen enough to know the rest?
But before she can open her mouth to insist her question be answered Marise speaks up again, her words causing Hotaru's blood to freeze in her veins, a chill coursing over her body. She knows what no one else could possibly know. The pain, the hunger, the ache in her arm for drawing upon that horrific technique. "I-" the girl tries to intercept as the devil of Koga continues.
She remains silent after Marise pronounces her inevitable death sentence should she chose to refuse the offered instruction. Before she faced pain of a different sort, balance skewed in another direction. But this... this is far worse than that time. Turning such that her back rests flat against the wall, the girl's mouth curls into a faint scowl. "My brother-" she starts to protest. Gato... Gato hasn't had Marise's guidance, has he? Yet he's still out there, alive, showing no sign of weakness. "... Is it the same with him?" Her challenge becomes a question. What happened to burden her family with such a curse?
Damn that Kataki, the girl muses, right hand clenched tightly. The ache isn't there right now, but as Marise brings it up it comes fresh again to her mind, impossible to forget. If /he/ hadn't have... if it weren't for him she wouldn't have toyed with that which she had sworn she wouldn't. He opened the door for her only to damn her to the very fate she had been trying to avoid for the entire previous year. But if it weren't for him, she never would have tasted of her real potential.
"What's it to you?" comes the next question. "Why are you so interested?" The obvious question. After all, their trip into the mountainside wasn't for Hotaru's benefit, now was it? Why this visit now? "What do you get out of it?" Clutching her right arm againt her chest, she folds her left arm over it, a pensive expresion overcoming her face.
"I don't want to die from this. I-... I've only just started to discover what I can become. It's too early..." She closes her eyes, turning away from Marise again, her left hand rubbing her right forearm. A quiet swallow easily heard in the empty locker room, just audible over the drip of water from a leaky faucet in the showers. "I need your help." comes the awful admission. To have gained so much power only to have to acquiesce to another just to keep it from killing her. Somehow, she can't even find the wherewithall to be angry at the unfairness of it anymore.
The Devil has not yet revealed all her mysteries to the girl. Experience should have informed her, by now. Like heads of the monstrous Hydra of old, for every answer given two more questions shall arise to take its place. Even the world, in general, is rarely so accommodating as to offer straight facts.
The Ghost tells people precisely what she wishes them to know, and not a single notion more. There are many facets to power, after all. It could be that bludgeoning one's foes with radiant energies is the least of what this ghastly woman can bring to bear.
Knowledge.. Secrets.. These things have greater weight than children realize. Marise may not wield the fullness of physical power she once commanded, but in clandestine matters she has lost none of her potency.
As such, she is not about to readily hand over her remaining cards. Especially cards that have become.. irritatingly painful to use.
And then, there are cards that remain of extreme importance that the younger girl cannot ignore.
Yes, the Devil's gaze easily pierces straight to the girl's heart. Peeling the layers of deception that so easily thwart her new-found family and allow the ghost to sink her claws into the naked truth. The girl's frailty is killing her. Slowly but surely.
And Marise is the only one who offers a cure. Or at least.. A way to feed the addiction. Perhaps both.
"Aaah yes.. Your brother.." The Devil muses a moment, tapping a sharp fingertip upon her lower lip in contemplation. "Well. If I do remember correctly.. Your brother showed you just how willing he was to 'educate' you in family matters. Yes?" A smile threatens the edges of her expression, a hint of fang gleaming sarcastically. "You could ask him how he continues to survive.. Assuming he would ever care for you enough to bother speaking."
Marise's eyebrows lift as she smoothly suggests, "In any regard.. It does matters little. You're close .. sooooo very close now to surpassing him utterly. Completely."
The Devil then slowly shifts along the bench closer, prowling hand over hand as she slides to the nearest edge, "Me?" A hand lifts to her chest, limply gesturing to herself.
"Keh.. Kyah.. KYAHAHA!"
The creature tosses her head back then, cackling with a tone that shares a border with psychosis and self-mockery. Once that impulse of black comedy is out of her system, she bows her head deeply. Shadowed bangs obscuring her face from view as she murmurs, "Is it not obvious? Has it not BEEN obvious to you, child?"
Only then does she slowly rise to her feet. Looming above Hotaru in the manner of an wicked, willowy tree. Partly hidden eyes gleaming with intensity behind the veil of silken shadow, "I will teach you everything I know. Everything I am. You will carry on my work. I will make you a -God- unto these miserable wretches whom think themselves glorious." Whipping her hand to the side in a violent gesture, both indicating and dismissing the world beyond this dark locker.
"And then you will surpass me.. Become greater than I -ever- was. You will be the future.. Hotaru. My future. With Koga-Ryu at your command, you will be -invincible-."
The monster then lowers her head to her. Haunting, frightful face hovering inches from her own as her words echo both with menace.. and promise, "You will be the daughter that I lost. You will destroy all those.. who would stand against us."
To actually ask the dark lady for help; the words escaping her lips almost unbidden. She never would have asked before. She had considered it, when all hope felt lost and she thought she had no other choice, but time and time again she pulled through without seeking the Devil's help. But now she's not sure. As Marise speaks of her brother with words that bespeak a frightening level of knowledge about how her last exchange with Gato went, Hotaru looks away, eyes straying to the cement floor of the locker room.
Would he talk to her /now/? She's changed since last time... tried to become more like him... /has/ become more like him... Maybe he won't be so ready to harm her then. Blue eyes look up suddenly as Marise rises and Hotaru presses herself back against the wall a little. At first she had been so confident in her ability to smite the horrible creature should she want. But that certainty has faded in the exchange of words.
As Marise knows far better, knowledge and the ability to manipulate can convey power of an entirely different, frightening sort than pure force, and as she continues to weave circles around the girl's conscious mind, Hotaru finds herself feeling strangely powerless in spite her earlier assertions to the contrary. The tall woman begins to laugh and the girl shirks a little, looking irritated that she finds such amusement in her questions.
Setting her jaw, she regards Marise with a slight frown. Obvious? Obvious that all this time the dark fiend has been trying to mold her in her image? Maybe... she begins to realize... maybe it was. Closing her eyes, the girl breaths in deeply then exhales lowly, only then opening her eyes to look up into the face of the Devil of Koga.
So horrid yet such twisted beauty. Capable of such terror yet powerful enough to do so much good had she wanted. "I-..." She closes her eyes again, hands tightening, held up against her chest as she shakes her head, "My enemies are not the same as yours. I don't share your hatred for all. I want the power you speak of, yes," she states openly. There's no denying it. She knew she did - it came as an epiphany accompanying one of her defeats by the Kirishima ninja boy. She never wanted to be bested by the likes of him again. But...
"I need that power, that strength. The world is full of evil people who will use their power to hurt and supress others, and without the strength I seek I can't stop them." She looks to the side, mouth frowning once again, "But I don't want to wage your war. You won't find me willing to be your tool of vengeance." she finishes, attention snapping boldly back to the pale face of Marise, so close to her own that she can feel the chill that exists persistantly in the air around the foul creature. But this time she does not recoil.
The young fighter's slow assertion hangs in the air. The plea for help, so completely against what she had previously felt in her heart. The desire.. the need.. the -craving- for power.
Its all she needed really.. That's all she needed was just a taste.
Before, she had refused Lord Maou's gift before she could even try it. Did not allow that crack in her defenses to simply.. try. But now?
"..Gooooood." The Devil croons. Her hand rising to gently brush the back of her fingers along Hotaru's cheek, cold and without comfort. While the girl refuses to become an instrument in the Devil's revenge, the dark woman does not flinch. Not this time. No.. The creature is as satisfied as the girl is resolute in this conviction.
A familiar tune. Good and Evil. Oh yes, Marise has heard it before. But the shadowy creature is not afraid or angered at such dogged determination to cling to childish whimsy and morality.
The Devil knows the truth of the matter, of course. And once this girl sees the truth, once she fully embraces her destiny.. The Devil is most confident she will see things her way.
Before? In the Hidden Village of Koga? An aberration. She can see it now, yes. The Devil's own failing as Maou punished her severely for it. Hotaru.. just needed time and an extra nudge from just the right source to put her back on the right track. The correct path.
Now there is no turning back.
The woman's cool face tilts back only a fraction as Hotaru's gaze snaps back defiantly to her. Marise's hands lift with palms wide and inoffensive, "You shall have it. Let us make a pact.. then."
Eyes narrowing to focused slits, "I will teach you Koga-Ryu. Once you have completed your training.. you are free to do with it as you will. After all.." The Devil simply snickers, "I would not be able to stop you then.. even if I wanted to." Grinning widely as she allows that tantalizing prospect to linger in Hotaru's ears. Let alone tickle her newly forged pride and arrogance.
"Be warned." That mirth suddenly erased from the Devil's expression. Lips transforming from a grin to a wicked frown in the span of a heartbeat, "Koga-Ryu is not an art for the weak minded. It is power earned only through pain and sacrifice. Pain.. brings clarity. Sacrifice.. brings power."
The ghost then touches Hotaru's chin, a disconcertingly gentle look suddenly upon the Devil's face, "You already know this.. Don't you?"
To have tasted of what she was really capable of... to witness the power that explodes from her hand when she puts her mind to it... could she ever possibly go back now? The thought hasn't even crossed her mind, as if it wasn't remotely an option for her future. The woman touches her cheek and Hotaru doesn't budge. Cool to the touch, but behind that chill is power.
She can taste it now. Before she could only sense what the woman could do, but now she finds herself hungering for it. No where in her mind is that moral compass that would call to question that craving, the inhibitions that were her defenses having been slashed away by the psychic carving of a malicious swordsman. Part of her wants to reach up and take hold of Marise's hand, but she doesn't, remaining perfectly still.
She feels like she's made her terms clear, and surely Marise has come to realize it for the creature doesn't seem to protest Hotaru's insistance. She resisted going too far before... she always knew when too far was too much in the past, of course she can walk the border now. Take the guidance Marise offers, but use it for what she knows is right. Ultimate power, supreme strength... it doesn't have to be used for malevolent purposes, no matter what its source.
Marise describes the path ahead and Hotaru merely nods her head, no sign of fear or reluctance in her eyes. She's suffered for her art for years, endured all manner of injuries, pain, maimings... all for the cause of improving herself. "Yes," she states, Marise's incongruously sympathetic expression met with stone cold resolution. "But it's nothing I can't handle. I've already touched upon it... there is only one direction to go now."
How did it come to this, she finds herself wondering. She remembers the girl she was before... and how different that is from who she is now. Maybe that's why she's been unhappy as of late - her progress hasn't remotely matched her potential. Maybe happiness lies in continuing steadfast along this path. She will take the power this creature offers, and once she has no more need of Marise's guidance she will simply deal with her. The power... the choice will be hers. Lowering her arms against her side, the girl tolerates the touch to her chin, eyes not straying from Marise's.
"You still haven't told me of your daughter." the girl states, even though she's beginning to suspect the Devil of Koga has a whole plethora of secrets she intends to keep to herself, even now. Perhaps... as training progresses, she will be able to pry those secrets from her - by force if necessary. "...nevermind," she continues, lowering her eyes at last and shaking her head. All in good time.
The Devil slowly nods precisely once. Inhuman meeting human eyes directly and without a hint of reserve from either. Hotaru stands her ground firmly now, with more force of will and resolve than she had ever mustered in the past. No longer a shred of fear present in her being now as she dissolves it all away with this new-found perspective.
She has mastered her rage. And now? .. She fears nothing indeed.
"So be it."
Marise's reply is simple as it is final. Her hand departs the unmoved girl's features as the gothic woman steps away, her hand lingering in the air as if measuring the dimensions of the girl's face with a gesture.
However, as that question is insisted once more, the Devil closes her eyes. Her subdued, bitter laugh does not escape her pale throat. "In time." Marise murmurs then in a hint of weariness.
She should never have brought that up. ....Curse this frailty she's inherited from this damned girl. But.. the truth was necessary to use. And useful.. it is.
"I have... business to attend." The Devil then turns away slowly, almost reluctantly. It seems almost vulgar to walk away from such an important epiphany.. But, equally important evolutions are occurring elsewhere.
Her experiments cannot fail. Ayame is gathering the Russian as they speak.. She must go and prepare. Her work is at a critical juncture now.. Not that Hotaru need know about this little diversion.
"..I will meet with you again.. Soon." She whispers as she stalks away from the dim lighting of the locker room, shadows swallowing her little by little until only the glint of those golden eyes remain, "You have come a long way.. Hotaru. But.. there is still much for you to see.. much for you to do.. and.."
Pearlescent fangs glint in the dark, like a sadistic Cheshire cat, "-Much-.. For you to become."
Marise backs away and Hotaru relaxes, pulling away from the cement wall she had been somewhat trapped against for the final portion of this fated exchange. More questions, more thoughts fill her mind. But one thing that seems to have slipped from conscious thought is that uncertainty that riddled her brain when Marise first appeared. She was questioning her path at that moment. But not anymore.
Now she knows how she will learn to control the power that rages within. Marise can guide her in that aspect. All she will have to do is stay mindful of the dark woman's manipulations... learn only the things she wants to from her and resist any other diverting temptations that Marise will no doubt try to place in her way. She's too smart for that, she tells herself, pride and confidence paving the way to an unavoidable fall.
Marise mentions business and Hotaru nods her head just slightly, taking in a deep breath and exhaling slowly. And then the creature takes her leave, promising a future visit. A proclaimation that would have filled the girl with dread if she were in her right mind. Clenching her right fist tightly, Hotaru holds it up in front of her, gazing at it quietly.
The Devil backs into the shadows from wence she came, leaving the young fighter behind to finish cleaning the blood from off her stained arm. Turning toward the sink, she turns on the hot water faucet and leaves her hand beneath the flowing water, seeming to forget the task at hand. Instead her eyes focus back on herself, blue irises gazing back at her from the mirror.
Slowly the glassy surface becomes blanketed in steam, fogging the view she has of herself into obscurity, only able to see her face in a mirror dimly. Slowly her left hand raises, intending to wipe clean the obscurred glass. But she pauses, and a moment later her arm lowers.
Log created on 23:13:14 03/04/2008 by Marise, and last modified on 02:46:13 03/13/2008.