Description: Having found two of the Guardian Kings totally incomprehensible after battling them, Haru switches tactics and goes to their opposite numbers at Pacific High. Ready to defend her school, Marisol finds a Gedo student quite unlike expectation, while Haru finds that her insight into the Kings might just be the key he was missing.
He's been taking some time off, has Haru Izanami. After his disastrous match with Adira Sen'ou against Taiyo's swim coach, Nagare Namikawa... a match in which he discovered that his compatriots at Gedo High School are a little tired of his poor public showing. Surprisingly image-conscious, the average Gedo student, especially when the Guardian Kings have done so much to redeem the school's tough guy street cred. Haru's not exactly a waif, but his focus on strategic fighting and his mounting insecurity are not the kind of public face the student body at his school enjoy. But as he told Nagare: he's not in it for them, image be damned. It's his own issues he has to worry about.
And perhaps it's because of that philosophy that Haru is doing what few Gedo students bother or dare to: setting foot on another school's campus without the intent of braining a student with a baseball bat. Indeed, Haru is taking the onset of spring weather this fine afternoon to pay a call on Pacific High School, home of the Pacific Resistance... a group of fighters that could almost certainly be called the Guardian Kings' rivals. Haru's tried to understand the GK by fighting a few of them, but the messages he got from Hakuya Suigetsu and Kenji Ashima were so wildly divergent that nothing sensible could come of it. Adira Sen'ou's aggressive feel good philosophy didn't seem to fit either. So perhaps those people who would be the GK's antithesis might have a better idea.
Of course, the Gedo senior is getting some looks. Because he's not a stupid person, he left his black class jacket at home, opting to replace his typical black slacks with blue jeans. But the black turtleneck and thin black leather gloves remain, even in the heat, which gets stares as he walks onto Pacific's campus. The fact that he's slowly slinging a yoyo up and down, effectively entirely on reflex action/autopilot, is probably another. It's a risk coming here, but he's going to take it. After all, the worst that could happen is he gets beat up... and since lately that possibility looms large at Gedo, too, what does he have to lose?
Pacific High is buzzing with activity, despite the warm, sunny spring weather that bears down on the campus filled to the brim with foreign students. Every which direction, as far as the eye can see, there are uniform-clad students milling about in small flocks. With classes having let out, there's time to enjoy what's left of the pleasant, albeit warm, afternoon.
But something is amiss today, and word on campus travels fast - especially after hours. Haru's presence on Pacific grounds earns him numerous odd looks and stares from all eyes that fall upon him, boys and girls whispering to one another. Like wildfire word has begun to spread its way across the campus through a variety of channels.
There's some Gedo student milling around campus.
They don't need a uniform to know he's Gedo. A good majority of the student body at Pacific keeps up with the fighting circuits in Southtown, as well as worldwide - Saturday Night Fight, especially. They've seen him on television, and some recognize him. Gossip hounds already know his name, and even his class rank over at Gedo High. It's hard to stay nondescript when you call yourself a fighter in Southtown.
...especially when you make yourself known for using a rather 'unconventional' weapon.
In the distance, at the campus' main hall, a set of large doors swing open fast and hard, slamming loud against the wall as a figure emerges. A tanned redhead clad in a pressed short-sleeved blouse and a pleated gray skirt - far from Pacific regulation uniform - stomps along the concrete pathway, gray eyes narrowed dangerously. In tow behind her are a group of three girls: a blonde, a brunette with pigtails and a black-haired girl idly reading a book.
"E-er, Marisol, do you really think this is nece- -"
"Of COURSE I do!" the redhead snaps, tossing her head as she storms down the pathway. "Any time I hear 'bout Gedo punks coming onto Pacific property, it usually means one thing: they are looking to get a fight."
The blonde sighs and shakes her head, while the brunette just looks uneasy.
"I'm n-not sure that is always the c-case Mar--"
"Of COURSE it is! The last time a Gedo punk cam sauntering here, she wanted a fight. So I gave her a fight. Every other time it's been those Guardian King morons." Stasya being an exception. "So I'm gonna see how badly this Gedo thug wants an ass-beating!"
The blonde and black-haired girls sigh in unison. All three girls stagger back a few steps from Marisol as she nears Haru, shying away as the redhead proudly marches forward with her chin aloft, gray eyes hooded in a dangerous fashion.
"You," the girl states, addressing Haru with a harsh tone. "What do you want, Gedo?? If you don't wanna get hurt, you better offer a good reason." Her eyes wander briefly, eyeing the yo-yo before she glances back up at the youth, lips pursing.
"I think I've seen you before..." Gray eyes narrow just a touch further.
As if on dramatic cue, there's a slap-snap sound as Haru's yoyo -- a distinctive weapon, as said, but also a perfectly functional and actually quite well-made and balanced yoyo for tricks of all sorts, a non-descript gunmetal grey and black affair -- gets pulled back into his waiting palm just as Marisol approaches and delivers her question and her demand. He can hear the second ? on 'Gedo', too, no question. Of course, Haru also came expecting hostility, so it's not like he's stunned by this or anything. Standing side by side, the Gedo and the Pacific make an interesting contrast: although somewhat similar in build and height, Marisol's fiery red hair and Haru's blue-streaked black, her gray eyes to his blue and green, create an interesting dissonance, even if their demeanors don't.
"You may have," Haru admits, deciding to respond to Marisol's final statement rather than her series of demands. Better to have her focus on that, after all. The right hand with the yoyo drops into his pocket as he speaks, coming back out empty. "I've made a brief but glorious career of being humiliated on international TV the past month or so." Only three fights, but they were enough: the crazy Scandinavian gameshow, the battle atop Everest, his loss against Nagare with the Gedo crowd booing. Not a shining track record, though Haru seems darkly amused rather than angry about it. "Of course, I've probably seen you in the same place... but I don't think I need TV to recognize Marisol O'Connell. Am I right?" The redhead certainly has her own reputation on Gedo's campus, vis: do not approach without military backup.
However, there's a brief flicker of something on Haru's face after he makes that comment... a furrowing of the brow, a quick look to the side, as if he were gauging the response against some internal list and finding out it wasn't exactly what he wanted to say. Hastening to cover, he just goes back to what she originally asked. "I'm not sure what I want. Information, maybe," he says, deciding that honesty is better than prevaricating. "I'm not here to start trouble, though I guess just by being enrolled in Gedo and showing up on your doorstep I've probably already started trouble..."
Her approach is loud and bold, and to be expected of the half-Spaniard girl who, along with her team, has made quite a reputation for herself, not unlike the Guardian Kings at Gedo High. Only when the girl has come a 'comfortable' distance to the Gedo intruder does she stop, hands resting on her hips as she shoots the young man a cold stare. Her attentions are only stirred as the yo-yo in his hand snaps into his wrist, held in his palm.
Lifting her chin, she says nothing more. Instead, she patiently waits for his response. How will he explain his presence on Pacific grounds? The girl is already notorious for her dislike of anything and everyone Gedo, and has taken it upon herself to occasionally beat this reputation of hers into a hapless Gedoite from time to time. It keeps things interesting, and the opponents coming to her door.
When he finally speaks, the girl's eyes half-lid in mild curiosity. She MAY have? The yo-yo alone is a bit of a clue to the girl - he's the only one to recently enter the SNF circuit with one. With this in mind, full lips ease into a smirk, her expression amused. "'Humiliated?'" the girl asks, sounding vaguely intrigued at his choice of phrase. She shakes her head idly, dismissing it as her arms lift, crossing over her chest.
"Yeah, that's me," the redhead replies, her smirk broadening in response. Gedo folk SHOULD know the girl's name. She's made an infamous trip or two to the campus in the past, leaving her mark on a few unfortunate souls that happened to get in the way of her business there. "Sorry if I don't know your name. Admittedly, I don't really go out of my way to know everyone from Gedo High." A wrinkle of her nose follows.
As for what he wants, his uncertainty earns him a bemused look from the half-Spaniard. "You...want information..?" She sounds unclear and baffled. When he elaborates a bit on not wanting to cause trouble, however, her confusion gives way to a sharp laugh, eyes narrowing a touch further in response.
"Pretty much, yeah. I mean, it's no secret that I'm not fond of Gedo," Marisol states, lips pulling into a wolfish grin as she levels her gaze on the lanky young man. "But I can tell you didn't come here like the last few morons looking to get their faces beaten in. So, depending on the information..."
A shrug follows, a grin still haunting her full lips.
"What do you want?"
"Then we have something in common," Haru starts, bringing a gloved hand up and rubbing the side of his neck a little. Internally he's berating himself for not having thought this through past the 'show up -> meet Pacific people -> get beat up' stage, and while Marisol's lack of punching is certainly gratifying, it also isn't what Haru expected, especially given her already-established and well known opinion of Gedo. For someone who works on strategy and planning, he really seems to be foundering. However, he seizes on his initial, gut response and makes an attempt to bond. "I don't know most of their names either. I stayed out of their way and they stayed out of mine. Until recently, anyway." When you decided to make a public spectacle of yourself for money. Idiot.
His bearing is... awkward. Haru is composed, but it's obvious that under the composure he's not entirely comfortable being where he is right now, talking to someone; it's as if just being out in the daytime is troubling him, though he's not quite so pale as to give a Goth appearance. "It's Haru... Haru Izanami. Gedo High third year, though judging from what I saw on my way in..." And here he turns and looks off to the side, *right at* a group of Pacific onlookers, who blink in surprise at the sudden scrutiny, "...you probably know that last part already." Maybe he's sharper than he looks.
Pleasantries dispensed with, however, the yoyo-slinging Gedo type has to pull it back to business. After all, that's what Marisol herself just asked for. "I said 'information' because I don't know how else to put it." A pause, and then a faint grin. "My 'humiliation' has something to do with it. You've been on the show before yourself, haven't you? Cream corn slung at me, some girl in a kimono trying to break my face all over Nepal... a game show's a game show." Of course, he keeps signing up for it every week, doesn't he? So what does that tell you?
Pausing a second, Haru shakes his head, then looks back up at Marisol. "The truth is I'm new to this fighting thing, at least the public fighting thing. Smacking Gedo punks who can't leave well enough alone upside the head, I've done for three years." Maybe they have more in common than they thought! "But now I need to. And I've been... I dunno. I've been trying to get at the mindset. I started with a few members of the Guardian Kings, but that was about as clear as mud. So I thought maybe Pacific Resistance would be good for clarification." He pauses, then smiles a little... genuine, but with a hint of wry amusement. "After all, you ARE rivals, kinda... right?"
The awkward demeanor expressed by the Gedo student earns him a really odd look from the half-Spaniard girl, gray eyes widening the slightest bit. It's a weird interaction, probably one of the oddest conversations she's had from a Gedo student yet. And when he says they've something in common, well, the girl's features shift a little, her expression hardening.
"Dunno about that," she adds, quickly, eyes snapping shut.
"Haru Izanami, huh? ...yeah, then I do know who you are. Sort of, anyway." Slowly the redhead opens her eyes, gray depths peering with scrutiny at the young oddly-eyed youth before her. "You've been on a few SNFs, yeah. The guy with the yo-yo." A hand lifts, gesturing idly to his pocket. As for her knowing he was Gedo...the girl smirks.
"Yeah. I did. Word gets around really fast here. We're a pretty small campus."
When Haru begins to elaborate on information, however, the redhead falls dead silent. Listening closely and carefully, the redhead's smoky gaze never once strays from the lanky young man as he explains himself. And, slowly, a light smirk begins to crawl its way over her full lips. A sigh follows shortly after, shoulders rising in a shrug as she exhales.
"Well, we were all new at some point," the girl explains. "And that's SNF. You get a few weird venues, sometimes a normal one, but, hey, it builds character. If you can endure that sort of public venue, well...you can endure pretty much anything else." Closing one eye, Marisol peers the young man in the eye as she purses her lips, long arms crossing casually over her chest. He needs to what..?
And then he mentions Guardian Kings. Marisol's face sours a bit.
"Well what did you EXPECT?" she asks with a harsh tone. "It's the Guardian Kings, the biggest idiots to ever grace the world of SNF and whatever the hell else they think they can fight their way into. And I use 'fight' rather loosely, because I can't take anyone who slings blood and plays with toy swords like a damn pirate seriously." Sighing once, the girl's eyes snap shut, brows knit slightly before she asks, suspiciously,
"Clarification on what, exactly?"
It doesn't take a logistics expert to know that Marisol O'Connell maybe kinda sorta has it in for the Guardian Kings. Perhaps that's because her ire is visible from orbit, like the Great Wall of China. It's even a little clickable object on Google Earth, right next to Pacific's dorms. Still, the sudden vehemence actually does take Haru by surprise... or perhaps her description of Tenma Kiryuu, a man Haru has yet to meet on his own. Blood? He knew the fighter used scarlet energy and a wooden sword, but *blood*? That's not hygienic, and the sudden twist of Haru's features shows he agrees with Marisol 100%.
Still, he smirks a little at her nod to his pocket, and as if on cue, his right hand digs the yoyo out, flipping it through a series of complex loops off to the side as he speaks. "The one and only, and I can't really be sad that it's how I'm known, huh?" With another snap-slap noise he yanks the toy/weapon back to his hand, letting his arm fall loosely to his side. The loops he was doing were actually fairly advanced stuff, at least in terms of things you can do with one hand, one yoyo, and not actually looking at what you're doing. If nothing else, he's quick and precise... which Marisol, as a fighter herself, could almost certainly tell are his only saving grace. He's fit, but not muscled.
"I don't know what I expected, actually," Haru admits, coming back to the Guardian Kings for a moment. "Fighters, certainly. A little... eccentric, also certainly. I know my school's foibles pretty well." Translation: they are nutjobs, in the nuthouse, where I happen to be.
Turning a bit to the side so that he's looking in the general direction of Gedo -- though it's not visible from here, with the giant towers of Pacific students' cash blocking the view -- he continues on. "I'm not sure about idiots. But they are a little crazy. Suigetsu plasters that smile on his face, tells me to sock him one in the jaw. Ashima... I don't know what to make of him, but he talks straight out of a shounen manga." Perhaps Kenji would accept that as high praise if he were here; Haru doesn't sound derisive about it, but perhaps he does sound like he doesn't quite believe it could actually happen yet. "I haven't met Kiryuu or the Russian girl yet. I plan to. But..."
With a shrug, he turns back to Marisol, yoyo dropping down and then yanked back up, clearly a nervous motion for him, something to do to burn energy. "Even if they are crazy and incomprehensible, they're skilled, and they... ugh. They have *fun* fighting. I haven't learned how yet... the having fun. And I'm going to need to if I'm going to walk this path I've chosen, you know?"
The very thought of Tenma and his team makes the girl a touch sour, her features seized in an expression of annoyance as she stands there. If there's anyone on the Kings she dislikes most, it's Tenma, and she makes no efforts to hide her dislike, evident by the badmouthing she dishes out. How the Gedo student chooses to take it and run, well...it likely matters little to the half-Spaniard peering right at him. Her thoughts are a touch invested elsewhere.
"I wouldn't be, no," the girl replies, smirking lightly before it fades. Eyes wander again, noting the yo-yo and the tricks, a familiar thing to the girl, though she wouldn't be caught dead admitting as much. Instead, lips purse, eyes fixed on the yo-yo before it's pulled into hand. When it's still, her gray eyes drift back onto the young man holding onto it.
"Well, to be honest, if they were easy to read and see through, it wouldn't be half as fun beating the shit out of them," Marisol confesses, arms folding over her chest as she absently bites her bottom lip. Thoughtful, she peers to the side, eyes half-lidded as she secretly mulls. "However, that doesn't make 'em any less jerks." That covers her tracks a bit; after all, she wouldn't want people to think she LIKES them.
Not that she DOES.
When he continues, however, the girl's eyes are back on Haru, a quizzical expression lingering on her tanned face. When he describes Hakuya and Kenji, however, a laugh escapes the girl, arms dropping from her chest before she rests them casually and comfortably on her hips. "Crazy? They're just plain WEIRD, if you ask me. As for Tenma? He's the biggest asshole ever. When you meet him I'm sure he'll piss you off. But don't say I didn't warn you. Russian girl?" Pausing, she tilts her head.
"Stasya? Well..." Marisol says nothing more; she simply smirks. Her opinion of Voronkova is her secret.
Nervousness noted, the girl's lips purse absently, brows knitting before she lightly snorts. "Well, I hope they're good at it - fighting, I mean," the half-Spaniard states. "If they sucked at it we'd have to find new people to beat up regularly." Exhaling lightly, the girl half-turns, a single gray eye drawing shut, the other peering at the Gedo youth suspiciously once more.
"So you want to know how to have fun fighting? What's wrong with just enjoying it?" Mildly puzzled by his words, the girl's lips purse tighter, that one visible eye narrowing a fraction further. "Not sure if anyone but you can really teach you how to have fun. Most people who fight - for sport, at least - do so because they have at least some interest in it for the sake of enjoyment. Though, uhh,"
Turning to face Haru squarely, the girl's arms fold as she inquires, "What's this gotta do with Pacific High? I mean, Gedo is your turf, and those Guardian Tards are the ones walking around there with their heads held high...not that they should."
The sudden, sharp bark of laughter that Haru gives in response to that last comment seems to surprise even him, once he's done it, but he recovers adroitly enough, waving a hand dismissively. His turf? His turf is somewhere else... not Southtown. Maybe not even his hometown of Nagasaki. Maybe... some imaginary country. "My turf?" His voice drips incredulity; Marisol might as well have said his turf was the planet Mars. "It's where I go to school, and I didn't have a lot of choice in the matter there. That's all. I don't dwell on it because it's the way things are, and I can't change it, so what's the point?" Up until now Haru's been calm and even... but finally he shows a bit of intensity, even if it's not about fighting.
Apparently that intensity comes with more nervous energy, too, and just flicking the yoyo around isn't enough to burn it off; he stows the thing in his pocket and begins to walk, almost tracing a rough ellipse on the sidewalk, just to get himself MOVING, burn off some of how he feels. "Sorry. You didn't deserve that, and I'm not very good at this whole 'talking to people' thing," he admits, which should be obvious after spending even a token amount of time with him. Everything about Haru's body language says 'ill at ease', and there's a thousand potential reasons why: Marisol could suddenly decide she doesn't like the cut of his gib; the Pacific students could decide they don't like poor people dirtying their sidewalk. He could be freaking out over being exposed in front of all these faces. The hidden truth is all of that and a little more.
Stopping a little farther away from Marisol than he was, Haru turns back to her and studies the Spaniard intently for the first time, giving her more than a casual glance. Haru's sudden burst of emotion was a rare thing; Marisol wears hers on her sleeve and knows it. Again, the contrast between the two becomes clear to any observer. "They're good. So are you, obviously. Better than me, and I think the reason is you actually get something out of fighting. Suigetsu... Hakuya... felt like getting punched and then cleaning my clock was just a friendly way to say hello, which to me is a little psychotic." He shrugs, his two differently-shaded eyes closing briefly in the international gesture for 'whatcha gonna do?'.
Bringing his gaze back to Marisol, Haru regains some of his composure and seriousness. "I came here because you're not them. You know? In fact I'd say you take a lot of pride in being as far from them as possible," he adds with a raised eyebrow, as if daring her to contradict that statement and confident she won't. "Their reasons don't work for me. I thought yours might."
Haru's sudden and unexpected tone earns him yet another odd expression from the redhead, and briefly is she taken aback. He's from Gedo, and as far as she's concerned, everyone that goes to Gedo - or any of the surrounding schools - does so because they've some vested interest. But this..? It gives Marisol reason to narrow her eyes further, lips pulled tightly across her face. Even as he apologizes, her expression remains stern.
Nervous and awkward though he may be, the half-Spaniard gives no leniency in his presence. Instead, the redhead lifts her chin, features stern as she peers at the young man intently. The silence lingers heavily, as the young man continues to explain himself in the girl's presence, save for the light, dismissive shake of her head as he apologizes. She's hardly offended.
Eventually, however...a smirk edges playfully over her sun-kissed features.
"Everyone has a different way of expressing themselves," she explains. "Taking a beating for sport is, to some, a means of building character - or even boding with those with common interests. As much as I loathe those idiots, they've got their bond: a bit of friendly sparring is, to them, no different than, say, going out to the park to play Frisbee with friends." She shrugs lightly. It's the best comparison she could think up!
But a shake of her head follows. "Truth be told, there are a lot of fighters that feel the same way - but there are reasons." Steadying her gaze on the Gedo youth before her, she smirks lightly. "And my team is no exception. We're good, yeah, and we do get something out of fighting, even ones amongst ourselves. I personally get something out of any and every fight I take up - any fighter who strives to improve themselves does." Pausing, the young woman's arms fold casually over her chest, her weight shifting from one heel to the other as she laughs.
"Of course I take pride in distancing myself from those idiots! I don't know jack squat about their beliefs or thoughts on fighting and, frankly, don't really want to know." She smirks lightly in amusement. "What I personally know is...you have to learn to take away something from every fight you throw yourself into, no matter how ridiculous the odds are stacked against you."
Meeting Haru's gaze, the girl's features harden a bit. "If you want a reason to fight, you need to first find a reason to fight FOR. Is it pride? Honor? Fame? Fortune? Notoriety? Self-improvement? It's difficult to find enjoyment in anything if you do not have a goal in mind. It's like walking blindfolded into traffic; you're only going to wind up disappointed."
Titling her head, the girl's fingers absently drum on her arms.
"Everyone on my team, and even Kiryuu's team, has a reason to fight. Did you ask Hakuya or Kenji why or what their reasons were?"
"Survival," Haru says, bitterly, unable to meet Marisol's gaze even as he hears the word come out of his mouth, unbidden. Once he's said it, once it's hanging in the air, the green and blue eyes open wide with the shock of it. Why should he trust this girl? She goes to a school full of, to Haru's estimation, a small amount of competent people and a greater majority of rich bitch airheads in serious need of a dose of everyday reality. If there's anything Haru actually LIKES about Gedo, it's that the students there live with very few happy illusions about the way the world works. They've seen how nasty it is up front and plan on fighting back.
But something about this situation makes Haru want to spill his guts. The explanation all comes tumbling out at once, too rapid at times, too slow at others; as if he's been waiting to give this explanation to SOMEONE, but could never do it at Gedo, could never show the moment of weakness. Perhaps it's because Marisol already thinks of Gedo students as inherently flawed that he loses his abandon. As before: what does he have to lose? "First it was to protect myself from the jerks I go to school with. And that was enough. But I live alone, and then the company that let me put food on my table every night went belly up. So now I put up with the stupid game show every week because they cut me a nice check, a lot more than I ever made filing some construction firm's papers and answering their damn phone calls. To survive! That's it. That's the reason."
Breathing heavily for a moment, there is a sudden proud, defiant air to Haru, face locked onto Marisol's... a hint of the person he used to be before the icy chill of Haru Izanami, Iconoclast became necessary for survival in Gedo. A time even Haru himself has trouble remembering, a past he ran so far away from he's forgotten what it looked like. The gulping of air, the heaving torso, it's as if he didn't say the words, but fired them from some cannon powered by his own body, blasting them into the air like artillery shells, not caring where they landed but just needing to get them OUT.
Eventually he straightens a bit, looking off to the side, bringing up one hand and gripping the bottom of the glove he wears with his other hand, pulling it taut over his skin. "Suigetsu didn't know... or maybe he shrugged it off. Ashima said it was for the sake of his friends, and that was all." He turns to Marisol, and raises an eyebrow. "I admire them and I hate them at the same time. I admire that they've made it such a clear and easy part of their lives, that they have that goal like you said. I hate that it's for something trivial, when I've had to try so damn hard for no reason whatsoever."
Haru's admittance and confessions surprise even Marisol, who truly believes a Gedo student like him should be doing such a thing to a girl such as her, who actively voices her utter spite for the guys and girls who attend. But for whatever reasons, the girl stands there, arms crossed as she just stares at the once-awkward youth who now seems a lot less nervous. He's spilling his guts, and it makes him seem cold. Her response?
Marisol exhales through her nose lightly, nostrils flaring as she gently smirks. "Survival, huh?" Glancing up, gray eyes affix on Haru, peering intently at the young man as he stands there. "To continue to endure and fight against what crap life has thrown at you? I suppose I can understand a bit of your distaste there."
Lifting one arm, a fingertip idly taps at her cheek, brows softly knit as she just turns her eyes to the sunny skies overhead. The three girls in the redhead's company have since relaxed a bit, giving the half-Spaniard and her unlikely company this afternoon a bit of distance by taking refuge under the shade of a sprawling oak.
"But...survival is a good reason, I think. You seem to be pretty good at it, if this is where you are right now. I mean, you haven't just given up yet, so clearly you're still determined to fight on and push ahead."
When the young man admits Hakuya and Kenji's reasons, however, the girl just offers a light, lopsided smirk. "Is it really so trivial, to fight for one's friends? How is that different from fighting to survive? My friends...I would fight for them too, tooth and nail. And I have, and I won't stop, regardless of how badly hurt I am. But you know what?" Pausing, the girl's finger ceases against her cheek, pointing aimlessly skyward.
"It isn't easy. It never is. I can tell you for certain, fighting for their friends is why Suigetsu, Tenma and Voronkova fight too. It's one of many reasons - and they'd stake their dumb lives on it. So would I." Pausing, the girl turns, arms lacing absently behind her back as she continues.
"But...how is 'survival' not a goal? You want to become stronger, I presume? Don't you want to get better, so you can defeat whatever adversity stands in your way and push forward? So you won't ever have to worry day to day about whether or not you'll have a roof over your head, or food on the table?"
Glancing over her shoulder, the girl sports a grin. "Honestly, I think that's a pretty strong goal and a great start. Certainly a lot more admirable than some peoples'. But fighting for survival alone really isn't enough, I suppose...if you want to enjoy it." Thoughtful, the girl's brows knit, eyes narrowing a touch as she glances aside.
"To be honest, when I first started fighting, I just wanted TO fight. I had no real clear, defined goals, other than 'get stronger' and become 'famous.' Mind, I still want to accomplish that, to a degree. But it was because of all of this, because of those initial, vague goals, I found a lot more reasons than that."
Gray eyes lift and settle on the young man with a light, lopsided smirk.
"I suppose the only real advice I can offer, if you want to learn to enjoy it is...if life throws you lemons, make lemonade?" The girl scoffs at herself lightly, eyes snapping shut as she rubs a hand at her neck. "I'm really bad at this advice stuff, to be honest. But really, if you fight strictly to survive for now, try to make the most of it. Throwing yourself out to fight in the public eye for a nice paycheck isn't shameful. There is no shame in trying to use what you know best and get something out of it. So...try to make the MOST out of it and take away something, always." The girl pauses, exhaling.
"At least I don't think so, nor would anyone else. I don't think anyone would see you any less if they knew you fought to put food on the table. Really...in the end...it's going to be you, Haru, that chooses to make fighting enjoyable, I think."
The Pacific student has a lot to say, but to his credit, Haru doesn't let his sudden emotional instability stop him from listening to her. He is still, to put it one way, vibrating like a harpstring; angry that he just spilled a condensed life story to an effective stranger, nervous that this is going to come back to haunt him, relieved that it got said in the first place, hoping that Marisol's words don't come much as Adira's did: well intentioned but full of, to Haru's ears, pity. But he listens, and he watches her, and he tries to master the urge to shake like he was standing in the middle of a freezer.
Haru's not stupid, either; he can hear, if nothing else, grudging respect in Marisol's voice when she talks about the Guardian Kings. She doesn't have to like them, but it's clear she doesn't think of them as subhuman, and that goes a long way toward Izanami being able to come to grips with what she's saying. Shards of memories come back to him, echoes of what Marisol said in another's voice. His grandfather's stories of life after the bomb; of struggling to survive, of people who died of grief alone, bereft of all family and friends. How he met Haru's grandmother when they were scavenging for somewhere to stay, something to eat, in the desolation. 'Had I been alone, I could never have made it.' Isn't that what Marisol is saying now?
It's clear that something clicks; the two-colored irises of Haru's suddenly get wide, his gaze turns from the girl. Memory and moment suddenly fuse. When he finally masters his surprise, Haru's eyes close and a small smile spreads across his face, before he looks up and trains it on Marisol. There's still that hint of vibration, that feeling of emotion contained under a shaking lid, but at least it's contained; there's some degree of peace there, some amount of calm. "You're doing pretty well for an amateur," Haru says encouragingly, perhaps the kindest he can be in his current state. "From my perspective, anyway." Pausing, he shakes his head and shrugs. "It could be that surviving isn't enough. I think you're right. But for a long time it was all I had to think about."
For a moment, nothing is said. Then Haru reaches into both pockets and pulls out both yoyos, each identical, and holds them out in his outstretched palms. "You fought to get famous and I fought so people would forget about me. I made these with Gedo's shop teacher... not like normal ones, as you can probably guess." What normal yoyo would stand up to the strain of combat on the level of professional street fighting, anyway? "And he was nice to me, probably the first one. I still talk to him now and then, but I still felt like I was fighting alone. I don't really make friends easy. I don't really... like people," he admits, going with the awkward phrasing despite himself. "But I couldn't have done that without him. So maybe a bit of him is out there too. I didn't understand what Ashima meant at first, you know? I thought he meant watching their backs, that was all... easy read, at Gedo. But it seemed trivial to me because I never needed to do it."
Haru grunts a bit, frustrated, and puts the yoyos away, running a hand through his black and blue hair, the oddly-colored highlights standing out in late afternoon sunlight. "I'm babbling. I don't know that it was good advice, but I think you cleared something up for me." When did he last have fun? Fighting that psychopath in Williams-Sonoma? Pushing his skill, being inventive. Doing it for something other than just a paycheck. The only time in living memory. He got the snot beat out of him and had to schill W-S products on SNF to pay the debt. It was worth it, though. Would it have been better if he and Wing had been...
...friends?
Half-turning, Haru pulls down the front of his shirt, then gives Marisol a wave. "I'll go before any of your classmates get antsy or any wacky ideas. But it was nice to meet you... Marisol." A faint smile. "When there's time, let's have a match. I might not be as crazy as the Guardian Kings are, but it could still be worth your while."
When Haru speaks, after inwardly reflecting on what he's endured and the things he's been told, and all of his experiences, Marisol...smirks, eyes briefly shutting. "Amateur, eh?" the girl replies, a ghost of a chuckle escaping her lips. "I suppose it IS a start." She's never fancied herself much to give out advice or good with words - she's always been a lot better speaking with her fists, after all. But the grin fades a little, as he confesses. She was right?
But Marisol does not speak; instead, the girl observes, as the young man withdraws the yo-yos and shows them to her. He speaks honestly again, and the girl simply purses her full lips. It's the least she can do, after all; if he gets it out of his system, she figures...maybe he will be one step closer to finding what he's looking for. But...she grins regardless, offering an appraising glance toward the sturdy set of rather impressive yo-yos.
But when the yo-yos are put away, the girl looks up, stern. "A bit of him IS out there. To me, it sounds like you DO have a friend, as hard as making friends is. Believe me, it's not easy." Smirking lightly, the girl's expression softens a touch. "It was probably a little difficult to understand at face value. But...believe me," Furrowing her brows, the girl seems reluctant to admit, "Those dorks' bond is pretty damn strong. From your point of view - or anyone's, it's hard to see, but that's okay. I'm just glad you got some clarity there."
And he admits as much, to an extent, earning him a light laugh from the half-Spaniard. "Well, I do try. I'm working on the whole advice thing." Shrugging, the girl tips her head to one side, shaking it lightly before adding, "And no. You aren't. It's better to get it out of your system, I say. Less burden weighing you do, and all that." Which, judging by his less-tense and nervous demeanor...it is.
When he waves, the girl lifts a hand and offers one in kind, offering a light laugh. "Trust me, they're probably more afraid of you than you'd be of them. Harmless. There's sadly not a lot of fighters here - certainly less than at Gedo." Idle talk, really; the girl returns the smile given, however.
"A match? Sure thing. Any time. And pff, them." A dismissive wave, and the redhead begins to turn away, just as the three girls from before wander back to the half-Spaniard's side. "I like and welcome all new challenges, great and small. It's as I said, Haru - I take my experiences and grow. I hope you'll do the same. I look forward to seeing your style up close and personal."
Pausing in her step, the girl lifts a hand and waves, a hint of a grin on her lips as she says,
"Later. It was nice talking with you. Be seeing you."
[OOC] Haru says, "Someday I am going to use Haru's power IC."
[OOC] Haru will... TOUCH PEOPLE. ZOMG.
[OOC] Marisol says, "suddenly lawsuits, hundreds of them"
[OOC] Haru says, "yes e_e"
[OOC] Haru says, "to unfurl my psychic abilities i must become megatron"
[OOC] Marisol says, "NO DON'T there's no turning back."
[OOC] Haru, on the precipice!
[OOC] Marisol shakes her head solemnly. ~_~
Log created on 21:57:52 04/07/2008 by Haru, and last modified on 02:32:05 04/08/2008.