Description: Ever searching for guidance and advice to help her get through the confusing, often conflicted life as a young fighter without any family to guide her properly, Hotaru investigates a new religion that has begun to be discussed in the streets of Southtown. Catching the preacher at the end of his sermon, the girl settles in to have the chance to ask some of the questions she constantly struggles with.
The Brotherhood of Ascension; A peculiar but by all legal standards quite genuine religion. The chapter within Southtown has attracted a lot of press, both positive and negative. Those who praise it claim that the founder, Vladimir, is a grand visionary and true worker of miracles, who knows the path of the fighter and can guide all those down it to full potential. Even those who are negative admit his charisma and powerful ability to help, but the ‘dangers of him using such for ill' have resulted in slander and rumors, none of which have been responded to. Regardless, the fighter-based institution has had a fair number of people attend. Anyone who wishes to see such is allowed to join one of the weekly free sermons, and questions are answered as Vladimir himself meets potential new disciples.
The building is somewhat generic by most accounts. It is two stories and a fair size, near the very outskirts of what could be called the business district; one would have to go out of their way to come here, and the neighborhood is low class. Rabble and gangs flutter around, as even Southside Syndicate doesn't bother putting significant muscle here. It is slate gray, bricks painted, with black double doors flanked on either side by windows. Black curtains are drawn, with many flyers explaining the church taped within. Above, in subtle letters, is a sign reading ‘Brotherhood of Ascension.' And a plate on the door reads simply, ‘Welcome.'
Within is the foyer, the sounds of someone speaking heatedly echoing past a second pair of double doors. A man in a blue robe, smiling almost vacantly, is beside a small table with a sack of pamphlets. He, it would seem, is the first obstacle between any enterprising soul and enlightenment.
The press surrounding the Brotherhood of Ascension finally got the attention of one Hotaru Futaba. Troubled as of late with self-doubts and fears of inadequacy brought to the surface by the manipulations of Frei's younger brother, Kataki, the girl has been solicting help from her friends and even new aquaintances alike to help her get past the issues she is dealing with. Though she had finally broken free of the psycho power aided influence of Kataki only a few weeks ago, the concerns she was forced to face as a result have troubled her mind often as of late.
Raised in a home of mixed, and only partially acknowledged religions, the concept of 'finding God' wasn't what stuck out to her the most when the publicity surrounding the Brotherhood of Ascension reached her ears, but rather the nature of the preacher himself. A self-proclaimed fighter who was said to have experienced much of the trying path of a fighter's life seemed like the perfect source to turn to for the struggling girl.
A taxi ride to the out of the way building has her at last stepping foot into the lobby, the double doors closing behind her as her eyes adjust to the dimmer light. Unsure as to how formal one should dress when attending a sermon on Sunday, she arrives in her Seijyun High uniform - an expensive combination of blue skirt, white, pressed shirt, and dark blue blazer with real gold trim, cufflinks, and buttons. Shiny, black buckled shoes clack against the floor as she slowly takes in the interior of the entry room.
The seated man is noticed after a moment and Hotaru steps up to the table a little gingerly, clearly stepping into unfamiliar territory. "Hello," she speaks up, breaking the silence otherwis only puncutated by the indistinguishable preaching going on past the double doors. "I, ah..." Her smile flickers faintly, a hand extending for a pamphlet, "This is where Vladimir can be heard, yes?"
Through the doors can be heard a man with a Russian accent, saying something muffled in a loud tone. A chorus of approval from what seems to be a fair number of people immediately follows. The smiling man seems to not react to the approach, beyond his eyes following in a sharp and attentive manner that seems to belie the otherwise empty expression. "Hello, child." he states, offering nothing further. He holds one of the pamphlets in hand, but makes no motion to hand it over, or continue the conversation of his own accord. Which means it is good that Hotaru does such instead. He hands over the document, while merely answering, "He is." The pamphlet, a darker blue then the robe, has golden print. ‘The Brotherhood of Ascension.' However, if opened, the text only reads ‘There are no answers within here. All answers are within yourself. If you wish help in hearing the voice of your soul, then we can help.' Nothing more. No outline of religious practices, membership information, or anything of the sort. "You are free to enter. The sermon, I am afraid, is almost over... but He will gladly see you." That ‘He' is indeed emphasized, doubtlessly referring to Vladimir. A new pamphlet is taken in hand, before the attending member's distant expression returns, and eyes shift back to the door.
At his acknowledgement, Hotaru offers a slight dip of her head in reply, her eyes a little wide just from adjusting to the change in light as well as a fair amount of nervousness about trying out something new like this. The answer he offers is simple enough, a confirmation that she really pretty much expected to be the case. The building did have a sign after all. The pamphlet is flipped open, the girl's attention shifting to it long enough to read the simple text therein and then some, as she clearly keeps reading it over and over, surprised to find it so devoid of anything else.
But perhaps it says all that needs to be said, she muses, closing it and resting it back down on the table as it seemed like something that didn't really merit keeping. He mentions the sermon is almost over and the young fighter bobs her head once, not to be deterred. As there seemed to be no indication that she shouldn't simply step on inside, the girl moves past to the double doors and pulls them open before moving into the chamber beyond.
Uncertain as to what to expect, she lingers for a moment at the entrance before committing to any further course of action.
Within, the area seems much more like that of a church. Pews are settled in many rows, the interior gutted and completely remodeled; two stories tall, all windows removed except for a magnificent stained glass one in the sign of the Brotherhood; an intricate geometric shape with no seeming significance. There is a raised platform, with a fifteen foot black circle. Just past that is the podium, where a man in a blue robe stands. He is old and incredibly tall, fingers covered in rings and a thick band of prayer beads around his neck. A wild beard slithers down his chin, hair beginning to bald and a rich grey with streaks of white. Yet he is not completely thin, some meat that is either weight or muscle lingering beneath. About thirty others are seated, leaning forward and in obvious rapture. Some wear blue robes, others hold pamphlets, a few seeming blatantly uninterested but still remaining for reasons known only to them.
The second Hotaru enters however, Vladimir stops talking. People mill confused, the priests' arms raised upwards. "We have a new arrival!" he bellows out, sounding pleased. In unison, every head turns to look at Hotaru, lingering uncomfortably. "Come, child! Come forward, be not shy!" He has a thick Russian accent, but his voice is deep and soothing, housing a fatherly quality that seems almost hypnotic. "There are no strangers in my church, so let us instead be friends! Please, say your name and why you have graced us with your presence!" He would beckon Hotaru forward, smiling, and not cease until she walked upon the raised platform housing the black circle, or decided instead to ignore his insistence.
The interior itself looks much like she would have expected, quite familiar with the architecture of her own traditionally styled church building that she inhereted along with the rest of the family estate. The preacher himself is a bit of a surprise though. She isn't sure what she expected. Perhaps a kindly, short, hunched over old man, balding, white hair around the fringes, perhaps round, clear spectacles over his eyes... The sight that she's greeted with is unexpected, though he seems to fit the part of a Russian charismatic she muses after a moment.
Her contemplations are hijacked, however, when he calls the attention of the room on the pig-tailed girl in the back of the room, and all the congregation turns to look in her direction. Taking in her breath, she holds it nervously, cheeks tinting slightly as blue eyes glance back over the faces that've turned to see who might be joining them. Encouraged to step forward, however, the girl does so. Shy, but not a coward when put on the spot, Hotaru takes a few steps forward hesitantly, not sure how far she should go.
It becomes clear that he intends for her to step up onto the raised platform, however, and to that end she complies, clasping her hands behind her back as she finally gets onto it. "Hello," she speaks up when given the silence to do so. "My name is Hotaru Futaba, a resident of Southtown." A minor celebrity in her own right, some may have already gathered who she was to begin with.
As to what she has graced them with her presence she pauses for a moment before continuing in the politest tone possible, "I heard about Mister Vladimir here and some of what he was said to be teaching here, and I-... well, as a fighter myself, I felt it would be good for me to see what help I might find here."
There is no reaction from Vladimir when her name is finally said, but many of those present begin to talk quietly, apparently somewhat familiar with her performance in local circuits. Saturday Night Fight is a popular venture after all, but a lack of big name success seems to keep it at a quiet simmer. "Hotaru. I am Vladimir. It is a pleasure to meet you!" One of his hands would drop in a friendly fashion upon her shoulder, before he would attempt to turn her towards the rest of those present, who look less judgmental and more curious now that her capabilities are not in question. "She is our friend within these walls. Treat her as you would a brother, whether she stays or leaves. You may sit at the first pew with the others who have come today." There are four, two gruff and imposing fighters, and one more quiet and looking unsure but intrigued in equal measure. She'd be given a light push to help her on her way.
"I will say again, that although I am the voice of God's guardian, what I seek to give is enlightenment. Mere training and strength are insufficient. One needs a pure will and unfettered discipline to succeed in anything within this world. In all pursuits in life, you must step both feet forward, with no hesitation and no doubt!" His voice raises again, booming in grim authority to contrast the warmth shown before. For fifteen minutes further he speaks, and one might find in retrospect the topic is questionable. He said many things equally deep and forgettable, but that leaves one feeling energized and empowered. Breeding trust and loyalty in subtle weaves. Whether Hotaru is absorbed or merely observes is another matter. At the conclusion, he returns to his pew. "For now, I shall tend to those new arrivals with questions. Members of my congregation shall receive my full attention after our private sermons."
As the charismatic leader introduces himself, Hotaru bows her head in respectful acknowledgement, only to blink, finding herself turned around to face the gathered crowd and be introduced as a friend within the group. He directs her to sit at the pew for newcomers and gives her a gentle nudge to get her on her way so the girl settles down in the middle, hands resting on her lap as she flashes a friendly smile toward one of the larger, tough looking new arrivals at her side before focusing on Vladimir.
The rest of the sermon is listend to with rapt attention. He speaks to principles she has always found true. Discipline, perseverance, standard traits she has always felt were vital for a martial artist to truly learn their art. There are the occasional details that stand out to her that she doens't understand. Voice of God's guardian is a term foreign to her, but she dismisses it as perhaps a title that makes more sense in Russian than her native tongue. But on the whole, while the entirety of the message is hard to follow, the individual phrases and axioms that no one would be able to really argue with seem to asuage the confusion the girl feels in listening along. In the end, she just knows that what she heard made her feel good, at ease compared to the somewhat skitish way she had arrived, whether or not she could really cite any particular part of the sermon that touched her so.
The sermon concludes and he announces that he will entertain questions from those just newly arrived, a perfect opportunity for the Kenpo pose some of the weightier matters that have troubled her in recent months. "A-ah," the girl states, raising her hand at first, a school ingrained habit, only to lower it back to her lap when she realizes that classroom rules probably don't apply to church. "What would you say are valid reasons to use our talents as fighters? Most often we use it for sport, for entertainment, but it seems that there are other uses for it as well. One who has practiced and trained can be ready to defend their friends and loved ones when needed, applying their talent for less sporting purposes. But then it becomes a matter of enforcing one's will on others through might, and that seems like it might be questionable as well..." the girl's voice fades out, leaving the jumble of questions and rhetorical observations to linger in the air.
Many of the people have gotten up and left, discussing amongst themselves. A few remain, curious of the new people, but all of those are wearing the robes. They make no comment and might blend in for all the actions they do. Vladimir turns towards Hotaru, brows raising in an expectant fashion, still smiling in a manner wise and knowledgeable. He listens, seeming intent and interested in a fashion few might be able to mimic. One could easily see how the line between cult and religion could merely be the agenda of this man; his power in pulling people into his flock, after all, is not questioned. "So you are wondering what fighting truly is? That question is simple. Fighting is nothing more then the art of asserting yourself. You make bad people stop hurting your friends. You proclaim your dominance in sporting events. It is a tool of combat, and there can be no purity within such violence. Only if you never raise your hand at another, can it become more. Are you a pacifist, Hotaru?" He has a tone of one who knows the answer; she is a popular sportsman. "If you wish to find a deeper meaning, the voice of your soul flowing through your body, then the conflict must first vanish. The only opponent must be yourself. Do you understand?"
There's seemingly more he intends to say, but one of the larger figures leans forward. "I heard you were a fighter. That's the only reason I'm interested." "Yes." Vladimir comments, still smiling. "You any good?" is then asked, tone seeming intent on goading. "Does it matter to you how good I am?" Vladimir retorts. The other man pauses, lacking now a subtle innuendo for his intentions in the matter, not desiring to merely call it out. "I'd like to see just how capable you are in preaching to people about fighting..." he finally mulls, neck cracking to the side. Vladimir's smile has not changed a mote. "I have no interest in proving my capabilities due to base curiosity. I apologize if that was your intent." Long seconds pass, before a "Tch." as the fighter rises from the pew and goes to leave, hands in his pocket and mildly hunched forward.
"I apologize for that." Vladimir offers to Hotaru and the others that remain "There are always those who desire the opposite of enlightenment."
He rephrases her question and then goes on to answer it, and Hotaru remains quiet, listening attentively. What is the nature of fighting? Assertion of will he explains and Hotaru nods just slightly. In that light, it seems no different from those who can speak well. A gifted orator can disuade others from doing things they may otherwise do, and a powerful debater can demonstrate certain dominance in the field of explaining and persuading. But there is the fact that it /is/ a component of combat itself. He speaks of never raising a hand at another and Hotaru's brow furows, indicitive of some confusion on her part.
The question is posed as to if she is a pacifist and the girl speaks up, "I eschew unnecessary violence," she offers as her answer. Not quite the same and she knows it, falling quiet as he continues. He speaks of there being a need for only one opponent, and then asks if she understands, and Hotaru opens her mouth, clearly intending to inquire further before she gets cut off by the visitor at her side.
Glancing up at him, the girl falls quiet, letting him speak at first, then feeling uncomfortable with doing anything to get involved in the exchange between him and the congregation's leader. She can tell he's itching for a fight, she can feel the tension in him that indicates he's interested in something far more 'interesting' than exchanging words. But Vladimir won't be baited into it, making that abundantly clear with how he responds, and Hotaru is left with a bit more room on the bench because of it.
He apologizes and she shakes her head, her smile returning as she regards the man who wouldn't be provoked into a fight. The press suggested that he was a fighter - his own quotes back that up, but whether or not that is actually true or merely publicity she isn't entirely convinced. All she knows is that it doesn't seem too important to her to know that right now. "You talked about fighting becoming mor ethan a tool of combat, but that it would require... not lifting a hand against another, that the opponent must be ourselves." she reiterates, hoping to make sure she didn't misunderstand him.
"How then," the girl continues, leaning her head to the side slightly, uncertainty in her eyes, "Would one be able to ever improve, without learning and experiencing what others can do as well and learning from it? I have never heard of an education to be found in a vacuum, be it social, physical, or otherwise..." She frowns a little, clearly trying to put her thoughts together more clearly, "If it isn't for... testing ourselves against others and protecting people, what is it for?"
Seeming to have dismissed the latter as completely unimportant, the intrusion bearing little effect on the man, his smile growing slightly wider. "I do not recall saying you cannot be trained. It is the need to test yourself against others that is potentially inhibitive. If you are not ready to grow, then the violent aspects can consume you instead. The body and mind must be prepared for growth. Do you understand the philosophy? To conquer others, you must conquer yourself. You need only to see buddhist monks to know the power of martial arts as meditation and inner peace. They are pure pacifists, are they not?" He brushes the front of his robes fastidiously, seeming contemplative for a few moments. "I specialize in helping people find the voice within their style. That which tells them where they need to improve, and how. If you would be interested, and would not mind a spar, then please return. If you are satisfied, then you might even consider becoming a member." He offers a bow of respect thereafter. "But I have others to tend with, and no time to do it now."
As he answers, the girl is quiet, listening intensely to his response. As he brings up the practices of monks, she nods her head slowly. She had often told others how she thought of martial arts as far more than just kicking and punching. There's the philosophies that go with it. The self discipline, the control over one's actions and thoughts. All critical components to understanding, as Vladimir puts it, the voice of the style.
"I would be honored," the Kenpo artist responds as he mentions the possibility of a spar, an opportunity to help her further the understanding of her own art, as learned from her father and augmented with various teachings from other disciplines she has looked into over the years. "I understand now," she replies, eyes narrowing in thought, not focusing on him directly for a moment. "If we are struggling with ourself, then we are fighting two battles at once when we contend with another. Doubt... uncertainty... confliction... those hold us back, make our fighting impure..."
She smiles a little, hands pressing against her knees as she rises to her feet. "I look forward to it. I will be back again." she states, pressing her hands together and giving the Russian a polite bow. "Thank you for your time. This has been very intructive." And with that the young fighter takes her leave, slipping away to retreat out of the building, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts at all the interesting things Vladimir had to share with her. Perhaps she should tell others of what she's found...
"Ah! You understand. I do not like to spell things too clearly. Such matters require you to realize what lies between the lines, as opposed to what lies before one's eyes." Vladimir offers a small nod, raising his hand towards Hotaru. "Be at peace, child." is his parting comment, while turning to the somewhat apprehensive person who seemed to stick out. They begin a vivid dialogue of their own; those in robes, previously quiet, all offer a wave as she departs, looking almost disgustingly friendly. Even the man at the door states he hopes to see her again, bowing. What a nice, happy family she has come across...
Log created on 16:52:01 05/04/2008 by Hotaru, and last modified on 03:42:52 05/09/2008.