Description: Sometimes insight can come from the most bewildering of sources. Hotaru and K' may seem nothing alike at first glance, but a late night discussion reveals that beneath the surface they have more in common than one would expect.
The YFCC is almost always a bustling location, but there are hours where it slows down. Late at night, when most of the teen visitors have gone home and most of the paid and volunteer staff has finished up their duties and also taken their leave, it's possible to find peace and quiet within the community center halls. Most of the lights are out, only the minimal one in three remains lit, providing plenty of illumination to see by while leaving shadows in the corners and in the gaps between each light. In the back of the building, the noise of the city streets outside aren't audible.
It is in the back of the building that the library is situated. And in the back of the library that a certain office can be found. One belonging to Alma Towazu. Reluctant to appear during the day, lest she come across those whom she has hurt, either verbally or quite literally with the power at her control, Hotaru waited until the late hours to stray into the YFCC.
Quietly she nagivated the familiar building, hoping, perhaps, to find the young man tasked with the burden keeping up the center burning the midnight oil in his office. Someone to talk to, after all she's been through, the girl turns to one of the few she hasn't gone so far out of her way to shun or avoid. Myabe the red haired young man can offer her much needed guidance, or at the very least have time to talk about the issues on her mind.
Promises have been repeatedly made and broken, the girl feeling empty inside. Her arm aches all the time now, and the fiendish creature that was to show her how to control her diabolic technique hasn't reappeared since the offer was made. Putting aside the ache in her arm for the moment, Hotaru finds the office in question empty, the lights out. Nope. Not a late night for Alma this time. No reason to stick around, she turns slowly, walking along the book shelves, coming to a stop next to one of the couches, the young fighter slumps down into it, releasing a sigh of resignation as she does so, eyes closed in the barely lit room as she leans her head back, face lifted toward the ceiling above.
"You're here late."
The voice fits the surroundings. Low, smoke-roughened, and barely-inflected, there isn't much suddenness or abruptness to the way it breaks the silence; unotrusively, it invites itself into the still air, and from there filters into perception. It drifts over from a spot about ten or twelve feet distant from Hotaru's chosen resting place; or, more precisely, from the young man sitting slouched in an overlarge armchair in a darker part of the library, one not hit by the light from the windows. His dark clothes mix him seamlessly into his chosen corner's windowless gloom.
A glance over at K''s unmistakable form, once eyes adjust enough to the largely lightless environs, reveals that he's got his elbow propped on the armrest and his silver head tilted against the back of his left hand. A book rests in his lap, but from how dark it is he probably stopped reading it a long time ago. The still-sleepy quality to his gaze suggests clearly enough what it was took up the time between the last sentence he read and now.
Hotaru's step, light as it was, had wakened him. Half-lidded yellow eyes regard her quietly, a welcome lack of condemnation, self-righteousness, or reproach in them. Instead, there's just a muted gleam of something K' is not accustomed to feeling: genuine curiosity and diffident interest. "Thought you'd stopped coming around entirely." A quiet chuckle escapes him, the sound-- as most sounds do in darkness-- seeming formless and without origin. "Which'd make you the smarter of the two of us..."
His tone gets a little more musing, but the speculative air can't entirely grate the heavily-sardonic edge off his voice. "Still. Not entirely surprised you're here." His gaze threatens to flick towards Alma's door. He's seen some of her recent fights, and while he hasn't bothered to keep up with the conflict behind the scenes... really, enough can be told from what gets broadcast and advertised.
Hands in her lap, the girl seemed to be looking for a reprieve from her unhurried walk to and through the center. It isn't like she can't find other quiet locations to sit and sulk. Her home, large as it is, provides all the empty places one could possibly stand. But that's different. It's like being alone in a mausoleum; a tomb of memories and lost hopes. Here is different though. Here the girl finds a certain comfort even though she didn't want to appear during the day when she might be seen by so many others. The cozy library, even in the darkness, feels more welcoming to the girl. She'll just sit there for a moment and gather her th-
Hotaru jumps in place, sitting up straight at the first sound of the voice of her present company. Eyes, accustomed to the dim light, stare across the way toward the chair K' has claimed as his own, the girl's mouth open as if ready to speak or rattle of an apology for not noticing him there sooner. Of course, so wrapped up in her own woes, it's no surprise she wasn't even aware of another present. Her left hand comes up to push down a little against the armrest, as if ready to get up quickly and leave the bookworm paradise to the tall young man across from her.
But she pauses, not quite so quick to get up, detecting a certain edge to his voice that suggests not annoyance at her intrusion but rather a hint of curiosity, in spite himself. "Thought maybe..." the girl replies to his remark about her being around, "... had worn out my welcome..." she finishes, mustering a weak smile barely visible in the shadows. Blasting Frei and Mizuki and Zach and, really, anyone who got her way made her, in her mind at least, not exactly a popular figure to be showing up at the center.
She makes out enough of his features to catch the glance toward the door that represents Alma's office and follows the glance herself before returning her attention toward K'. "Heard things, hn?" she asks. She stands up, finally pushing her hand against the armrest to get to her feet, before it moves over to grip lightly at her right wrist, head bowed just slightly, "Well, guess it's not really too big a secret." she admits begrudgingly.
"Well, sorry for interrupting your reading," she remarks quietly, one last glance toward K', her tone just slightly teasing. It wasn't a reading session she had intruded upon after all.
The hand that lifts to K''s mouth, long fingers settling with a careless thoughtfulness, only half-covers the amused smile that pulls at his lips when Hotaru startles so visibly. The expression, however, doesn't stray far from its customary borderline unpleasantness. Her thought that she might have worn out her welcome draws an indifferent shrug of one shoulder and a slight, dismissive gesture of one hand. "...not here." The meaning is two-fold. The YFCC is composed of a whole lot of people entirely too forgiving for their own good, for one; and for another, K' is the LAST person to be bothered by Hotaru's recent violence.
'Heard things,' she asks. K''s eyes narrow infinitesimally. "I watch fights," he corrects evenly, his head tipping back calmly to maintain his regard as she stands up. Shadows shift across his features at the changed angle, cutting across the planes of his face and pooling deeply about his yellow eyes. He says little more, not being given to wasting effort spelling out the obvious, but it's pretty clear what he means. He doesn't speak to others enough to 'hear' things; what he knows is what he's observed, and he's seen her behavior lately. What might not be quite as immediately clear, however, is that the anger, desire, and frustration written in her face-- the pain subsequent to the use of her new ability-- was, for K', just like looking in a mirror.
He didn't normally bother with the affairs of others. If they wanted to rip themselves to pieces, bring everything down around their ears, it was their life to ruin. But there was a personal sort of intrigue he held for Hotaru's drive-- her attempt to develop and contained an uncontrolled power. He knows a lot about uncontrollable power, himself.
A slight snort escapes him at her tease. He flips the book out of his lap and onto the nearest end table with a deft motion of the wrist, the sudden sound of cover slapping against wood loud in the silence. He leans back in the aftermath, long legs shoving out before him, arms idling on the rests. "...feels good, doesn't it," he eventually asks. "Complete lack of restraint."
'Not here.' The YFCC has been, for a lot of people, a bastion of safety in a cruel world, a refuge from the streets, a shelter from the pressures of life. A place where youth can retreat to learn, study in groups, hang out without the risks so many other locales tend to involve. Those who can be found at the center are among the most understanding people there are, Hotaru ponders, her left hand releasing her wrist to come up, her finger resting at the bridge of her nose as she seems to contemplate that for a moment. Not lost, however, is the implication that he doesn't really mind her being there. And it's that subtlety that gives her pause.
Watches fights, she ponders. And no one could possibly view her frequent appearances and not know something had changed. That she was fighting differently. Ruthless, aggressive, and typically with little concern about herself or her opponents. The shift was obvious enough to have the officials repeatedly casting her as a fight 'heel', something that would have been merely an attempt at ironic humor months ago.
And then it comes, the line that makes her stop leaving. A connection, on some deep, feral level, to the emotions she's been riding lately. The girl freezes, only silence coming from her corner of the library for a long moment, until she finally turns back around to face K'. Her expression is twisted, torn, the answer written on her face in the way she struggles. No quick denial, no shocked look at such an offensive suggestion that she would delight in loss of control. But no ready agreement, either, the girl fighting with the question perhaps uncomfortably long.
"Yes," comes the spoken reply at last, Hotaru swallowing immediately after the utterance. "For a little bit." Years of holding back, doing anything to keep from going too far. Free to lash out with reckless abandon... compared to the way she kept her ability bottled in... even with everyone's reactions to her dangerous attack, even with the pain and damage it's causing her arm beneath the surface... for the moment it happens... "It's empowering."
His head doesn't turn, but his eyes follow her as she starts to leave. He isn't bothered by her attempt at departure, and doesn't try to stop her in the least. He doesn't care whether she stays or goes; there's nothing in particular he feels is terribly important to impart to her, no lesson he wants her to hear at all cost. They can exchange their words, or they can not. It's likely a change from most of the other people she's spoken to about this.
But his indifference does not militate against him having some curious interest; and perhaps even an opinion of his own, an eminently rare thing from a boy who usually spends all his time self-absorbed... lost in his own thoughts and concerned only with his own affairs. She's rather like him now, after all, isn't she? Violent, unrestrained... clearly weighted down under some sort of power she can't harness or control, a power that makes her far more than she was before. It's interesting to see how much everyone condemns that set of circumstances when it comes from -her-.
And so, with a sort of clinical, cold directness, he just gets to the heart of the matter. And the look on her face, when she turns around, is answer enough. A look of disdain threatens to claim his features at her initial struggle with the response written in her expression: in his eyes, there's no need to even look conflicted about this sort of thing at all. "So when we fought," he deduces slowly, his voice dredging through the dark, "you held back." A long silence follows, but the displeasure that gradually weights his eyes advertises clearly enough what he thinks of that.
"...so in the middle of all the preaching," he eventually starts disparagingly, "anybody ever tell you there's nothing wrong with not holding back?" His eyes narrow, the boy genuinely... curious as to the answer to -this- question.
"At the time I didn't know it," Hotaru replies at the reference to their previous encounter. "I..." Her left hand goes back to clutching her right arm, the teen bowing her head some, "... mean I knew about what I might be capable of, but I had never /tried/ it. Not until recently. Back then I never thought that I would touch it. The woman that taught me..." She shakes her head slowly, changing her mind with regards to going into her interactions with the Devil of Koga. "I thought I was always giving it my all before. I was wrong."
Then comes the question rather than the observation. The preaching. The attempts at interventions, one after the other. The encouragement to get her head on straight, to quit attacking like a savage thing... "No," Hotaru replies, taking a step toward the seated K', both hands held in front of her, palms forward as she continues, "No one said anything like that. They're... well..." She lowers her hands, looking to the side, eyes glaring at the floor.
"Everyone wants to me to quit fighting like that. Some if it has to do with the technique... you've seen it." He watches fights, after all. "It... well, it's a little brutal." To put it mildly. Marise may have the technique mastered far better than Hotaru, but the young girl's ability to funnel chi into her targets exceeds the dark creature for now, rendering even her apprentice level use of the Satsujinken markedly dangerous. She sounds apologetic about it. The things she's done to her opponents. Shouldn't she have known better?
"So no... no one I know seems to think it's okay." she finishes. "At first I just thought everyone was jealous. That I had finally found something to give me an edge that they didn't have." There's a partial shrug then, suggesting she's backed off from that initial assessment a little.
K''s eyes sharpen on Hotaru's reference to Marise. He says nothing. He himself has taken a questionable teacher; he willingly goes to Geese for instruction, even knowing who the man is and what he might have him do in payment for his teaching. He is hardly a stranger to doing what is necessary rather than what's strictly -right- to further his goals. Of course, were K' to know the -name- of Hotaru's teacher, he'd have something to say -then-.
There -is- one thing that can be inferred from the mention of Marise, however. It, along with the way Hotaru keeps grasping her arm-- the way she's talked about it in her fights, the way it causes her pain, the way she says it gives her an 'edge'-- is what spurs a suspicion that leads to the eventual question, "It's not yours. Is it."
And then she responds his question as to what she's been told. The answer seems to irritate him. "Hmph," he growls, leaning forwards slightly out of his indifferent slouch. K' very rarely cares enough about anything to have any kind of opinion about it, much less a strong one, but he sure has an opinion on people being self-righteous-- even if their stance is right. Straight-out sanctimonious cease-and-desists touch a nerve in him. "Instead of telling you what to do, they should be asking what it is you want so much."
He leans back again roughly, a sound of disgust kicking out of his chest. Baleful yellow eyes fix on her uncompromisingly. "So what do you want?" He recognizes the look of her when she fights-- it's the same thing he feels in himself, every day-- and he knows that desperation doesn't come out of nowhere.
As he suggests that it isn't hers, Hotaru's eyes narrow, her attention snapping back to K' sharply. "It is mine. It's my right. I-... if I can use it, it's mine," she states, her voice strong for the moment, as if a nerve had been touched upon that stung worse than the ache in her poor arm. "I just..." She exhales, shoulders slouching slightly, "I can't control it yet." The implication being that somehow she will be able to eventually. Before it kills her.
His grunt about how others have talked to her doesn't... quite surprise the girl. She recognized upon first seeing K' that he wasn't like others. Whether it was the chip on his shoulder, or that apathetic, hands in pockets slouch she's seen him adopt now and then, something told her his perspective would be quite different. So many have been telling her what she should and shouldn't do. Some have heard what she wanted, but did they listen? She thinks a few might have... Even if her reasons were always dismissed, often readily.
The biggest loner to practically live at the YFCC asks her what it is she wants, and Hotaru is silent only for a moment, her left hand coming up, resting a finger against her cheek, "I want to be strong enough to /really/ fight when it matters. I want to be able to defend myself and others. I want... I want to do my father proud even if in my heart I know he would never be happy no matter what I do." Her right hand comes up, clenched into a fist, the girl taking a step closer to K'. "I want to prove to my brother that I'm not the disgrace he thinks I am. I want to be acknowledged. I'm tired of fighting people only for them to declare that I'm too weak, too reluctant to amount to anything."
Her fist tightens further, her voice raising slightly. "I don't want to be pushed around. I've had it with kids my age or younger with what seems to be way more power than I used to have. There's no reason I can't be every bit as strong as them. How could they have possibly gotten like that without some kind of shortcut?!" The girl exhales, lowering her right fist suddenly, turning to the side, folding her arms over her chest as if taking a moment to get control over herself again.
Oh, he definitely touched something there. K' may be absolute crap at counseling, caring, or even, well, giving a crap at -all- about other people's problems, but when necessary he can be fairly astute at how to take somebody he's faced with and push all their buttons. His eyes just half-lid on her angry retort, a sort of 'thought so' written in his eyes; but his legendary temper can only go unseen for so long, when he's in any kind of social interaction that lasts longer than five minutes. He has too many buttons of his own for one of them not to get pushed in the confusion.
And the fact she expresses a wish for the kind of thing that ruined his own life-- a shortcut to power-- is one of the more prominent ones.
"I know how -I- 'got like that,'" the boy-- no more than a year or two her senior-- retorts sharply, standing in one angry movement: if only to give his arm proper clearance for the heat that suddenly smokes about it. "And it sure as hell was a shortcut. So you want to see what a shortcut does?" His left hand is already prying at the red metal, undoing clasps, hinging the thing apart; it falls open, and hot fire spasms instantly from the length of his arm, a complete lack of control written in every lashing arc of flame. The sudden pain is clear in his face as the force sealed into him tries to burn out of him, and after a very short time he snaps the glove shut again.
"Yeah," he eventually grits, a swipe of his right arm rending the lingering wisps of fire to shreds. "All a shortcut usually does is screw you over. I've paid for it three years. Of course, I never -asked- for it... but hey, if you ever actually learn to control -yours-," he grates, a bitter tone laid deeply in his voice, "go ahead and let me know. Let me know if it hurts -you- any less."
He turns away abruptly, shoulders slumping heavily: much of his height disappearing into that weary stance that seems burdened under more than such a young back can bear. His left hand pushes through his prematurely-whitened hair, ruffling the strands; and then it drops. He aims a tired look at her over his shoulder, her list of 'wants' seeming to have an odd effect on him. He even smirks a little, somewhat morbidly amused, though the expression is completely devoid of warmth. "You're more like me than you think," he says, after a long and weighted silence. "But while there aren't many things I wouldn't do to prove I'm not 'worthless,' another shortcut is off the list...
"So if you want people not to call you weak..." he eventually continues coldly, "stop -being- weak. Stop holding back. I never held back a blow a day of my life. Somebody bothers me, somebody chooses to fight with me, they forfeit any right not to get -hurt- by me. They make the choice; they get the consequence."
She sees that look on his face. The one that says 'if you say so' without uttering a word. She has no retort, no comeback to that. Her insistance isn't even convincing herself, how could it convince this ashen haired young man? All her life, it's never been too hard for people to read the girl well enough to find buttons to push. She is as undeceiving as one can imagine and while her reactions to some issues may surprise some, she isn't known for being inscrutable.
K' rises out of his chair suddenly, towering over the girl as he continues. He reaches for the glove on his right hand and Hotaru takes a step back, half expecting him to lunge at her and attack. But it is in that moment he introduces her to the aftermath of a shortcut. The results of science, twisted by vain ambitions of powerful men, laid bare before her eyes. In the dim light of the dark library, the flames come to life, heat manifesting itself with enough force as to be easily felt by the Kenpo artist. Hands coming up, one palm in front of her face as she stares, unable to pry her eyes from off the burning forearm. It looks very much like her own right arm /feels/. Power, beyond control, damaging, burning, raging, demanding to be unleashed. Her own situation is no where near that far along, the pain and damage mostly internal for now. But what if...
She looks both simultaneously shocked and facinated, the thought that another right here in front of her knows exactly of what it is she speaks. That's a shortcut. And the bitter resentment it has left in the other is impossible to miss. His control is that distinct, strange glove. Man made restraint where the body's will was not enough to contain it. He turns away then and Hotaru stares at his back, mouth agape for a moment before she finally closes it as well.
The comparison is made, him and her, and the costs of the shortcut. Maybe that's what Sakura and Raizo had been trying to drill into her head. Not jealousy, but... She's snapped into the present by the scolding advice that comes next. Stop -being- weak. "But-" she starts to protest. Isn't that what she's been doing? She's been trying to prove that she isn't weak, unleashing uncontrolled power the moment she's provoked, "I've been doing that." she insists, hands raised in front of her, clenched into small fists, "I'm not holding back at at all anymore. I- I'm doing whatever I can in my fights. But... But when I win it feels..."
Her arms lower, the girl looking to the side, eyes on the floor once again, "Feels so empty. Like nothing mattered. Like I tried so hard, came out on top of the most irrelevant contest ever. Each victory feels more hollow than the last. And the things I've done to my friends..." She shakes her head, closing her eyes, opening them a moment later to reveal a shimmer, unbidden tears pooling at the corners. "It's not what they deserve. It should be possible to fight without doing that to them."
She glances up at K', hands tightened at her side, "After you helped with the demonstration here, I went and watched a lot of your fights. I've seen the kinds of things you can do. You could have..." she frowns faintly, not sure of the words to express her thoughts, "You could have done more. But you didn't then. You may not have full control over..." she nods toward his arm only slightly, "But you have some control, moments of restraint. I think that's more than I have right now."
It wouldn't be too out there to expect that K' might actually attack her, given enough provocation. He's a brutal, unpredictable sort, and he's never been otherwise; people have long since come to expect him to solve most things with violence. But in this case, all his intensity won't be focused into some physical reprisal. Instead, it all goes into a surprising display that he so rarely shows other people... and which, in fact, he has only shown two other people to date.
He shows her a 'what if.'
What he is now could be her, somewhere down the line. What he feels about his power could be mirrored in her own emotions at some future point: stuck in an eternal struggle to contain the power that is both the source of her hope, and the wellspring of a constant pain and frustration. K' is a walking cautionary tale against the shortcut to power, and against tampering with energy that isn't yours. And he can't help but show that warning to the girl in front of him now.
He doesn't try to explain it in words any more than he already has. He just lets Hotaru process what she's seen, brooding quietly as he lifts an arm and rests it against a bookshelf, and then changes the topic slightly: addressing something a little different. But when his words-- so rarely given in the first place, and even more rarely given helpfully-- get protested, the boy slants an irritated look over his shoulder. "What you're doing isn't 'not holding back,'" he replies shortly and callously, dimly surprised-- and slightly disturbed-- at how easily Geese's words are coming out of his own mouth. "What you're doing is throwing around power you can't control and letting the shortcut get you the result. That's where the emptiness comes from." A derisive, bleak scoff finishes off his cruelly-blunt words. "I ought to know."
Surprised at the astute observation? Well, it's really not all that insightful. Why? It comes from three years of personal and painful experience, not from any stroke of analytical brilliance.
Turning back on her what's been said to him so many times-- by Rugal, by Geese, even by Kyo-- makes him feel far emptier than he thought it would. There's almost no feeling of justification behind it at all. Little does he know it's instinctive unease of his own hypocrisy in declaring these things to her-- still extant, even in such a selfish and flawed boy as him-- that makes him feel quite so disquieted. But he does it anyway, for it's the best answer he has to any of the issues that mutually trouble himself and Hotaru.
"And. What I -said-," he continues harshly, treating it as though Hotaru missed his obvious message-- even though he wasn't actually clear about it at all, "was to stop being weak with your own power. It's not like -you- don't have something even without the crutch. Me..." K' shrugs bitterly, a flick of his right hand serving as an irritated gesture and indication of what he's talking about alike, "this is all I got, and the only reason I have any control over it is cause I have this crutch." He shakes his head, yellow eyes drifting off her to stare at some distant point. "It's no better than having nothing."
The warning is impossible to miss, the girl standing in the middle of the library, her eyes on K''s back as he turns and speaks back to her over his shoulder. Her protests are as one trying to deny the obvious truth, as if for all her depth of perception before she is blind in all matters pertaining to herself. Kataki's gift and Marise's legacy, both at work in the poor girl, both trying to keep her from seeing the truth, both blinding her to what she should have seen for herself.
Her stare at K' is intense, challenging, as if daring him to try and counter her points, as if certain there's no other perspective than what she has expressed, no other angle at which to view both of their situations. She's left to stew in her thoughts for a good while before K' finally speaks up, sharing with her words gleaned from others she would have never expected. At last someone answers the emptiness, someone solves the void, and as K' speaks, Hotaru lifts her left hand, resting it over her heart. Her triumphs are empty because they're not really hers. They belong to Maou, they belong to Marise. From hell she learned the move, and to hell goes the credit for its victories.
Hotaru takes a step backward, turning to the side, her shoulder facing toward K', her head once again bowed as the weight of his remarks seem to crush the girl for a moment. But K' has more to say and Hotaru glances toward him as he clarifies the message. Get off the crutch, kick the drug, use your own talents, abilities, strength. Look at what the shortcut has done for him? Has he ever been happy with what he's gained via his power? She has nothing to say in reply, and the silence that lingers may become awkward, as the unlikely duo stand alone in the dimmed library. One just starting down the path already walked by the other, seeing a glimpse of what lies ahead if she doesn't get her act together.
"She said it was mine. That she would teach me how to control it." comes the girl's voice at last. "But it isn't, really. It isn't natural, it's foreign to me. And the results are not... are not what I want from something I can do. She insisted that I would learn how to wield it such that it wouldn't hurt me so bad... But I haven't seen her since. Marise, that is..."
K' sighs a long breath from between his teeth. He regards Hotaru expressionlessly, looking about as affected by the last ten minutes as one might expect: that is, not at all. After all, while he's certainly gone out of his way in order to show her the precise consequences of accepting a shortcut to power, that's about all he can and will do. It's now her choice whether or not she takes anything out of what he's chosen to show; it's her life to save or ruin as she sees fit.
The opinion he's imparted is simple, and it runs counter to many of the ones she's heard already. Rather than tell her to abandon her unrestrained violence and no-holds-barred attitude entirely, he simply tells her to get rid of the foreign power she's flailing around and apply that viciousness of hers to her own abilities. In his eyes, the temptation to take pernicious shortcuts is the only problem here: not the fact that she isn't holding back when she strikes.
And now that he's made that clear, he seems content enough to just let Hotaru off the hook. The silence isn't awkward in the least to him, and he wouldn't even think twice if she just quietly up and left. She's got a lot of thinking to do, and he isn't about to do it for her. But of course, then she has to go and mention the name Marise, and his inclination to let her leave decreases just... a little.
If Hotaru thought he looked angry before, it's nothing compared to how he looks now. The temperature seems literally to rise with his temper, even if only by a degree or two, and his yellow eyes rivet on hers with a renewed murderousness: just daring her to try and defend her erstwhile instructor. "You haven't seen her since," he clarifies for her in a deep growl, "because she's dead."
He looks so vicious about it that one might almost think he was responsible for her murder, but presently that assumption dies a quick death when he shrugs impatiently and adds, "And after the things she did, she's lucky I wasn't the one to catch her."
If she thought he might just hit her before, when he rose out of his seat, the girl's fear of that happening doubles as K' fixes his eyes on her at the mention of a name he is already familiar with. Her back foot slides backward just slightly, the girl's eyes widening, clearly getting ready to exercise her infamous speed to keep from getting caught should he make a move.
But he responds with words rather than action, stating the creature to be dead. If he's expecting her to be bothered by the revelation, he'll have to scour the earth to find any soul that would grieve Marise's demise. Hotaru merely stares back at him, wondering at first if it was by his hands that this came to be. The Devil of Koga was crafty, evil to the core, but she herself could contend with her, which means against the likes of K' the creature would have had no chance. And if he did kill her, what will he make of Hotaru recieving instruction from her?
She's given cause to relax as he indicates it wasn't him, dismissing her initial line of thinking easily enough. Shoulders falling slightly, she glances to the side, blue eyes narrowed for a moment. This impacts her, but she isn't quite sure how, on what level. Marise had promised her a lot of things... had hinted at even far more things, and the Futaba girl was curious, and at the time of the offer, eager to find out what those things were. Knowledge, secrets, power, control. But since that fated encounter, she had begun to dread Marise's promised visit.
"Good," Hotaru states calmly, looking very decisive about it, her right hand tightening. "Good," she repeats, a certain finality to her tone. "Then she'll never be a problem for me or anyone else again," she continues, lowering her head, memories of the many times Marise forced her hand one way or another with her gutless, conniving ways. Swallowing, she opens her mouth, a question at the tip of her tongue, but she swallows it, shaking her head. No, she doesn't really care to know how it came to be. That she is no more is sufficient.
Her left hand reaches over, idly rubbing her right wrist as she continues to contemplate, "I guess I had better not spend too much time wondering when she's going to show up again," she continues, somewhat sardonically, turning to the side, her shoulder facing K'. In spite herself, she finds that she can't help but wonder about so many things Marise had alluded to in their last dialoge. What of her child? Why did she look so... The girl closes her eyes and shakes her head, putting the thoughts out of her mind.
"I can't imagine any instruction she would have offered would have been good for me anyway," the girl continues slowly. What was she /thinking/, hoping for help from Marise of all things? Maybe it's just how bad off she was back then, she decides with a slow exhale.
Though he certainly looks prone to-- and given her initial thought that he might be the killer, it might even seem very likely-- K' does nothing overtly threatening or aggressive towards Hotaru. Were she actually the one personally antagonizing him, he might have; but as it stands Hotaru isn't the one pissing him off, and even if she was it's unlikely he would quite go so far as to strike her in particular. Some people invite a quick punch to the face; Hotaru is certainly not one of them. No, it's the thought of Marise that sparks that anger of his.
He hadn't known what he expected out of her in terms of a reaction. He hadn't cared enough to speculate. Sometimes, people -do- become irrational in defending those with whom they are connected, even when the loyalty is entirely undeserved. That she seems largely unaffected-- and then, eventually relieved-- is probably a good sign for her on some sort of spiritual or moralistic level, but K' hardly notes it in that sort of context. He just glances away with a light 'hmph' as Hotaru states it's for the best, and that Marise will never be a problem to anyone again.
"No." K' smiles thinly. "She won't be." And even if Shurui was incorrect about her death, or for that matter, correct about her hunch that death could not be much of an obstacle to that creature, the instant K' sees her again is the instant he'll helpfully eliminate her as a problem again. This time by his own methods; and with his own holy fire. ...-Nominally- his own, anyway.
"I wouldn't waste thought on it," he snorts when Hotaru makes that sardonic comment, eyes flicking briefly upwards in a dismissive expression, before they drop to rest conspicuously on the compulsive way she rubs at her wrist. His look lingers a pointedly long amount of time. "I don't know about the instruction," he continues eventually, "but the shortcut she gave you is shit. The teaching probably would have been too." That magnanimous comment delivered, K' seems to think his own 'instruction' superior enough to substitute, and subsequently shares it: "I told you already. Stop thinking you owe anybody anything. Least of all your pity. If they get hurt, it's their problem and their job to avoid in the future."
A thin smirk knifes his dour expression open, a hint of white canine baring in the midst of that humorless expression. "I find it's the 'sport fighters' who whine the loudest when beat within an inch of their lives. They like to talk about my shit attitude, about how important having fun is, but they never seem to get that there are people who fight for other reasons than cheap thrills in front of a camera." Reasons which he and Hotaru seem to share, in part; and the parallel hasn't escaped him.
Perhaps she detects the implication of K''s certainty that Marise will definitely never have her chance to be a threat to anyone. It must have been someone close to him that the foul creature threatened, Hotaru muses silently, but she doesn't dare ask. The ashen haired youth seems to have a minefield of hidden trigger issues and she doesn't really want to set any more of them off with questioning further.
"Yeah," she replies when he tells her to not waste thought on Marise, but then she falls quiet as he continues. The shortcut... well, yeah, it definitely had its downsides. The damage to herself being one of them that she can't deny. The girl lowers her eyes at the evaluation offered by the young man. She knew in her heart that whatever Marise offered wouldn't really be for her sake in the end. The monster had an agenda. It was pride that made her think she could get what she wanted in instruction then take her leave once she no longer needed Marise's help. She's felt how addictive the technique is though. The power, the craving to use it whenever she gets into a fight even if she tries to refrain from touching it. Would she really have ever had the power to walk away in the end?
K' offers his view on fighting - If the opponent gets injured it's their problem. She smiles faintly, his words resonating with the attitude both her brother and father have about fighting. One she had never really shared all her life. But maybe that is starting to change... "Only having fun when they're not being crushed, I suppose," the girl replies, unclasping her wrist and folding her arms behind her back. Fighting is far more serious than that to her. While she enjoys and respects the fighting spirit she sees in some of the greats, like Sakura, she suspects Sakura fights for the sake of fighting. Hotaru, though, has something to prove, every time she faces off against another. Proving to herself, to her father, to her brother. Proving that she isn't the weakling they dismissed her as.
"Yeah," she murmurs thoughtfully, glancing toward K' along her shoulder, looking up at him for a long, thoughtful moment. "What kind of reasons?" She had been trying to avoid asking him too much, but she can't help it now. She wants to know. It isn't simply for money, she can already tell that. Then what is it?
If she asked, he probably wouldn't tell. Nothing beyond mere vagaries, anyway. He doesn't feel like discussing Shurui or what was done to her, or why exactly it is her treatment enrages him so much; and even if they did get into a discussion about the hows and whys, Hotaru would inevitably run into and trigger so many of those deadly hidden issues that their interaction would likely end far more poorly than it's going now.
His view on fighting is given, and like that of her father and brother, it might seem cruel or unnecessary. But it could also merely be taken as a harsh expectation of the other party's competence and resolve, and nothing more dangerous or sinister than that. K' rarely kills unless defending himself, after all; it's not as if he ends his fights with murder if his opponent can't keep up. He knows, however, that feeling like one has a responsibility to ensure the welfare of the other party just makes one lose faster, especially if the opponent don't share the sentiment; and in the harsher, less forgiving real world K' lives in, it gets you killed. K' learned a long time ago mercy was suicidal, and it's a lesson that's hard to break.
A short sound of amusement escapes him at her wry comment, all the indication of agreement she really needs from him, but it's not a humor that really makes it to his perpetually-bitter eyes. Seeming to have exhausted the endurance of his voice for the time being, he retreats into the familiarity of silence. He's not much for little jests or lighthearted commentary, after all; and he gets even less so with her last, thoughtful question. A long, tired breath stutters out of him, his gaze slanting to one side. He's quiet for a long time, the whys and why nots of answering her circling silently behind his inscrutable eyes.
"Think about your own," he eventually replies shortly. At first, it seems like that's all he's going to say-- a harsh injunction for her to mind her own business-- but then, slowly, he adds, "Mine aren't any different. You've got something to prove, a brother to prove it to, and a life of being told you're not good enough." He leaves it at that, telling her only a little more than she could figure out herself. It certainly wouldn't be hard for anyone to deduce the part about his supposed brother, after all, for any fight tape with him and Kyo Kusanagi in it is blatant evidence of that particular issue.
Perhaps it's that she reminds him uncomfortably of himself; he's been known to look more favorably on those he can personally relate to. Maybe that little resonance he has with her makes him feel a little less isolated in his situation, much like Whip and Shurui made him feel less like the only person on the face of the planet with no past and some evil cartel gunning for them. Maybe he just spontaneously developed a consciousness of fairness and thought that since she shared her own wants, he could let a little slip about his. Whatever the case, Hotaru gets that rare little hint of the real issues that drive the boy. It's more than most anyone else he's met has ever discovered.
There's a period of time where she wonders if she's trodden upon one of those landmines and that K' is just going to give her the silent treatment for her trouble. But the quiet lingers only so long before he replies, answering by directing her thoughts back to her own statements from earlier. About what she wanted, why she fights, what she hopes to accomplish with it all. He then goes on to add his reasons mirror hers in a lot of ways. A brother to prove herself, a life of being told she's too weak. And something to prove to the rest of the world - to prove that every last naysayer is /wrong/ about her. About him.
"Nn," the girl murmurs, nodding her head slightly, bringing her hands forward from behind her back to clasp in front of her as she bows her her head in quiet thought. "It's hard." she states, staring at a nearby shelf without focusing on it at all. "Everything." she adds, as if that's supposed to clarify what it is she was referring to. "Guess I'm not the only one though." He's like her, she decides, only it seems to have resulted in a more dour persona in the end with regards to K'. Then again, perhaps he lacked for the caring mother she had for years, the one that helped her learn to cope with it all before cruel fate stole her away at a young age. Maybe that's the difference between the two of them.
Sobered by K''s remarks, advice, and comparisons, the girl exhales softly, lingering in the darkness of the library, sharing a few minutes alongside a strangely kindred spirit. "Well," she murmurs after a while, "I should get going." She glances to the side, up at K' again, "Meant a lot... thanks." A smile tugs at the edge of her mouth, but it is fleeting and pained, the girl's heart heavy. She's been given a lot to digest from the most unlikely of sources. Now it's time for her to go figure out what to make of it all.
It is a landmine. Under almost any other circumstance, it would have triggered a terrible reaction-- or else caused him to freeze into a cold and offended silence. But for whatever reason, Hotaru seems lightfooted enough to touch upon it without setting it off too badly. His expression darkens even more at the topic, his shoulders slumping heavily as his tall figure draws in on itself. But eventually, he does answer.
He doesn't have to say anything to her subsequent statements, largely rhetorical as they are. He just paces slowly back to his original seat as she muses aloud, sinking into it in tired silence and slanting a yellow-eyed stare up at her. No, she's not the only one to have it hard; and he doesn't try to tell her it'll get easier, or that she has support, or anything quite so optimistic. Unlike some of the other discussions she's had with those who opted to speak with her, she'll walk away from this feeling heavy-hearted and pained, left mired in dour thoughts from what she's heard. That's the consequence of interaction with K'.
But it might give her something a little bit different to think about. It certainly caused -him- to think of his little coworker quite differently than he had before.
She thanks him, but says she should be going. He evinces no reaction to her gratitude, a stern and preoccupied lack of expression lingering oppressively on features entirely too young for it. It's clear from that brooding attitude, and from the way his eyes drift away, that the conversation has weighted his mind as well. Eventually, he just slides lower in his seat, undermining his image with that boyish slouch, and tilts his gaze back up at her.
"Go home," is his only answer. There isn't much else he can or will tell her.
Log created on 00:08:48 04/09/2008 by Hotaru, and last modified on 13:47:24 04/11/2008.