Description: Long has it been since Alma has been the hero of his own tale. He has been through much since the last story written here: his support of Jiro in the jungles of Nepal and against the man known as Dante, the development of his relation with Hotaru to that of siblings, his ascension to nominal leader of the YFCC and shouldering the duties thereof. But the moment that would spur him to China and lead him to his fateful duel with Seishirou was here, alongside his sister and against one of the strongest fighters in the world, when Alma realized that, having mastered light, one must next turn to the shadows-- and that change comes to the most satisfied. For the world of the open-hearted is infinitely vast, and there is still so much to learn.
A drum sounds faintly, as though from a distance.
The beat grows stronger, faster, guiding the dancer towards yet more grace and force in his movements, and as he does the sound grows louder still, person and that which influences him in symbiosis, inextricably tied, somehow each one feeding the other. The effort grows more intense, the beat grows strained and the dancer is pushed to his limit, yet neither drum nor dancer spites the other; this remains a cooperation, and both are eager, in their way, for the heights that they now reach.
For the drum is his heartbeat, thundering in the silent morning mist.
And he is Alma Towazu.
Were he to be seen amidst the settling fog, the blurring speed of his motion casting up the dew from the grass, he would be seen as alone-- yet he is not. With him is all that guides him, as his heartbeat guides him. None would argue that a man's heart is seperate from himself. Yet what drives Alma as surely as his own heart does is his connection with what is conventionally thought of as the other, his friends, his opponents, his circumstances, and this environment itself. It has always been thus. It has been the source of his integrity, his ambition, and the endless sea of love that dwells within him.
Thus is Alma's heart both that which sustains his individual life...
A kick shears through the air, leaving trails in the mist.
...and his companion, in this venture and all others.
Thus does the drum seem to surround him, even as it comes from within.
Thus is he never alone.
Alma Towazu has been consumed by obligations, and they are those he has rightfully chose. Everything he has done, all the sacrifices he has made to get him where he is today, has been representative of himself even as it seems to distance him from all he once was; all is intelligible in the scheme of that which he believes he should become. It may be fair to speak of destiny in these terms, though not in a metaphysical or divine sense; it is the destiny of a man so set in his faith and convictions -- his identity and even public persona so tied up with them -- that no other path for him can be imagined. He grows stronger; more responsibility is placed upon him. His perspective broadens; so too does his oversight. He knew something would be lost; that loss too, he felt sure, would be representative of himself, of the price he was willing to pay to /be/ himself.
He knew something would be lost-- but not how much.
And here, dancing in the mist, Alma Towazu wonders, truly wonders, whether it has all been worth what he has given up.
~ How long has it been since I trained like this? ~
His conscious mind intrudes for the first time in minutes, immediately as his body begins to settle at the end of his display, half-spontaneous and half-Hiten Ryu, as itself is encouraged by the style.
Of course he has maintained a minimum of practice that is formidable enough by common standards, and has managed to pursue his usual mild-mannered hobbies of sketching around the city and at his favorite tea shops, or baking for his friends and acquaintances at home. He has maintained himself, which given how vigorously he has expanded himself as an executive of the YFCC, is what he thought would be enough.
But he has not improved.
It took him a while to notice. But he realized that his artistic style was no longer changing; he had lost the urge to learn new recipes; his fighting style had seemed to reach its pinnacle. Having never seen progress as an inherent good, Alma was not concerned. But even if the lack of progress did not bother him, the lack of /change/ began to. It has been his recent fights that have drove that home, as hesitantly, he attempted to reintroduce himself into a world from which he has been absent. He was pleased that Frei defeated him; it was a close fight, and they were deeply attuned during it; looking back and studying his performance, he truly realized how caught up in the fight he had been, how he had sacrificed a strategy towards victory for one that would bring the most out of both of them, and regretted none of it.
But in his fight against Bison--
~ When was the last time... ~
--he did not admit it to himself then, but still--
~ ...I felt helpless? ~
--he could do nothing.
Strategies unfolded in his mind and could not be acted upon; no wedge could be driven in his opponent's psyche. Neither technique nor strength were sufficient to break down that formidable, unyielding defense. Alma took his defeat in stride, as always. But he cannot help but wonder now, as he dances in the mist for the first time in far too long, if it is a sign that he has failed to grow as a fighter-- if he has lost the versatility that is key to his own style, that he always thought he had already mastered.
Deep within him, he is not truly believe that he is weak, and neither would he fear being so. But looking back upon his own life, he reflects on the many times he had faced those far stronger than himself fearlessly, knowing what he might lose and embracing it for the sake of protecting what he loved-- and thereby, in his mind, protecting his heart.
Head bowed, eyes soft and expression unreadable, Alma stares down at the prints his shoes have made in the thick, damp grass.
To protect his heart...
Strong as his faith is, it is not so simple as he imagined.
What, now, does that mean?
Like God, I do not play with dice, and do not believe in chance.
What Alma realizes as an epiphany of his personal path, another in these woodlands considers a universal truth. What the ambitious, the selfish, those who value force over power view as destiny... as fate... as the inevitable result of their personal importance is actually a distortion. Nay, an abomination. The rhythm that Alma feels is a pulse that reverberates through everything around him - his psychic awareness of himself and others gives him insight into the human condition beyond his years, but the man already in these woods is tied to /them/. He has found a place in the world, a truth powerful enough to sustain him, to bring him peace when everything around him demands he should never allow such ease to enter his mind, never allow himself contentment with his own spirit. Without light there is no darkness, without darkness there can be no light, and without an innate awareness not only of one's heart - but of the very universe around oneself - it is all to easy to allow either to blind. In the middle, throughout, and all around there is nature. Cycles, symmetry, balance on a nigh inconceivable scale. The epic ebb and flow of chi throughout the Earth, its brothers and sisters, the families of comets and moons and suns and planets beyond, and beyond them.
It's undeniable in a place like this. The mist rises on the edges of this protected land, and it seems to have a power of its own. Not far from where Alma trains, the Ansatsuken master called Ryu had been meditating. It's a presence that touches the very power in the air for some distance, all around - or perhaps it is the other way around. Perhaps the forest itself folds its attention in around the strange man in the pristine white, but tattered and worn gi. In turn, Ryu's attention is drawn to Alma. That strange, fervent power that emenates from the passionate youth.
The nomad follows the energy to its source, blended with the fog as he crosses out towards the clearing with calm patience. He senses no malice - he senses no hate. He senses no urgency or fear. This warrior, confused as he may be, is somewhat thoroughly analyzed before he actually comes into view. It's not a psychic impression, an analysis of projected thoughts and emotions, per se.... it's the resonance Alma creates, all around him. Pulsing a code that resonates with the Ansatsuken Wanderer all too clearly. The mist itself deepens, cools as Ryu's bare feet fall on the grass, stepping out of the trees to face Alma curiously, the unlikely legend tilting his head to the side slightly, and offering a relaxing half-smile.
Ryu does not interrupt Alma's training, or reverie verbally. He merely bows, and lowers his own eyes, hands coming together before him formally. He is intruding, and he already knows some measure about who upon. No names, no background - simply a style, belied by Alma's motions, and an embattled spirit, by the resonance of his very soul in the air.
A presence permeates the mist-- gently, but undeniably. The vapor seems to part in advance before the nomadic fighter as the young blond turns his gaze toward Ryu, eyes widening and lips parting slightly. Yet there is no surprise envinced upon his features, despite the characteristic accompaniments to be seen there. His eyes widen in awe, not for having been startled. And his lips part not because he is stunned, but because...
...because...
To speak of destiny is, indeed, a selfish thing; it presumes that the world would deign to make itself intelligible to humanity, that it would bother to behave in a reasonable fashion. Even to speak of chance is to assume that human beings could comprehend the pattern that would be deviated from. To think that the universe would bend for the sake of one individual is the kind of unparalleled hubris that only humankind, which depends upon being able to make sense of its reality and imbue it with meaning, could be capable of. Yet even in accepting the possibility that the search for significance in the world is a pretention, one may also seize upon the concept of destiny and see it as a path toward profound gratefulness. What else may we call it, when such a man meets such a man in the mist, at this time, in this place, when such questions are in the air? From whence did this opportunity issue? For an opportunity it is, and Alma cannot see it as anything thus. In turning toward the sense of destiny that his overwhelming faith naturally pushes him towards, he seeks not to flatter himself with the notion that he deserves any of this or that the world has its eye upon him; rather, he confronts the awesome truth that the chances of this, any of this, are infinitely slim, and that the chance to act and reveal himself in his individuality has been thrust upon him.
He is thus awed by this-- and by the incredible, exceptional aura that is revealed to him. Some auras thrill him with their power, with the way they crush against the ambiance, devouring the energy around them and pushing themselves in his vision upon those around them, often a metaphor for the personalities they inhabit. This one represents an overwhelming strength, this is obvious, yet it does so in precisely the opposite manner. It glides through the world, disturbing nothing, seamlessly fitting itself into the environment in a manner almost beyond Alma's comprehension. He has never seen or sensed anything like it. The man does not seem human. Emerging from the mist of the young man's confusion, he seems much more like a guardian spirit, an ancient god called forth.
Swept away, Alma's lips part.
He wants to speak, here where silence reigns.
He wants to tell this man everything.
But no words can come forth. He cannot bring himself to shatter the silence; he has the sense that as soon as he spoke, the mist would dissipate and the sun would pierce through, and this part of the world would dissolve, taking his opportunity to resolve his question with it. His awe slowly begins to fade as the reality of the moment becomes more apparent, and it dawns on him that this is foolish, and there is little chance of the mist fading for some time. But initially, at least, he is enraptured, and in his eyes now, often so unintentionally hidden from his companions in these days, he seems very young indeed.
The wonder in them belongs to a child.
Alma bows then, as soon as he recovers from that reverie, but he does not take his gaze away from the strange man, his aura as potent as it is unthreatening. Although he does not know why the man has appeared, he does not feel as though he has disturbed him, nor does he himself feel disturbed. The timing was impeccable-- as though ordained by destiny.
The mist swirls around their feet.
Strangely, Alma wants to ask him if he is real.
The question seems somehow misguided.
And everything is too much to tell.
When, Alma, have you felt helpless?
The young man smiles back then, beautifically, serenely.
~ Now, in the face of this man. ~
"Good morning," he says softly.
~ What a wonderful feeling. ~
"I am Alma Towazu."
~ Now, strangely, I feel... ~
"Who are you, sir?"
~ ...as though I have lost nothing at all. ~
There is patience as Alma reacts. Ryu does not remain bowed, but neither does he interrupt, tap his foot, or seem particularly unsettled in any way. He stands straight, long, knotted crimson hanging behind him as he turns his head off to the side, back towards the rather dilapidated dojo owned by Kim Kaphwan, hidden further off in the mists, at the edge of seperate, yet connected clearing. The universe sways for no man, perhaps - and yet it would bend over backwards for any. None may challenge fate, and yet all are in full control of their path. While the world will change for no one, one person can most certainly change the world. It happens in more ways than most ever realize, and while it is hardly a uniquely /human/ trait, man certainly has shown the capacity to make some of the most resounding echoes, in the Ansatsuken Wanderer's experience.
Many chase their grand destiny on both sides of the fence, and many are harmed just as many are saved. It is a grand sorrow, and within it the greatest hope. It is a tragic, blessed paradox within which the man known as Ryu finds peace with his own duality, the legacy attached to his fists. It is an ever-flowing, ever invigorating current that carries him onward, the nomad restrained, but unhesitating. Respectful, but uncivilized. Gentle and compassionate, yet unbreaking. Unthreatening, yet impossibly powerful. Calmly focused dark eyes drift back to Alma shortly before he speaks, the same relaxed, easy expression on his face, his corded muscles relaxed. He is hardly prepared for an attack - yet the way he carries himself, it seems innate nonetheless, even in relative ease. The man has lived his life fighting, it is not simply a sport, but a philosophy, a martial doctrine honed not to end life, or exert control - but to forge just the course Alma seeks to understand. A path with its own glory, and its own mystery... power untold, yet so widely discounted by most men possessing strength similar to the Dragon's.
It's true what they say. Power corrupts. All too easy to yield to it, and grasp for more in fear or frustration... but life is never about one, solitary defining moment. There are always more, and then more... but signs are strange. You never see them unless you look for them.
Some would even discount the legend who steps out of the mist, "My name is Ryu." He answers simply, smile returning and widening slightly. The kid is staring at him all glassy-eyed, after all. It half reminds him of Sakura, when they first met. Though of course.... Alma's mannerisms are rather removed from the now-accomplished Ansatsuken prodigy, "I sensed your training." He explains, just as matter of factly, his deep voice even-toned and as relaxed as his stance, though the peaceful, potent energy of the forest still ebbs and flows within him, and around him, in flux that even Alma appears to sense - the boy's reaction is fairly telling, after all, "Alma. I've heard of you, I think." He looks off to the distance, seeming to have trouble placing it, immediately, "You were practicing hiten-ryu, but not any formal style." This is what Ryu calls 'small talk'.
Three individuals, brought to one location, each by different means. One sought meditation, the other practice and reflection. The last to arrive was seeking someone in specific. A certain YFCC director, a dear friend, a precious brother. Asking around at the Youth Center revealed that Alma was, as he often is, out. Some said he had seemed different lately - evidence of something weighing on his mind. She had watched his match against the reigning mid-tier SNF title holder.
It had been a savage fight, reminding her of her own bout against the titan boxer. It spoke to the darker side of the trade she had thrown her life into whole heartedly. That side that creates monsters; people that relish in the opportunity to crush others beneath the raw power. A sad fact, she had often pondered, that not everyone can pursue the sport for the sake of improving themselves; increasing in self-control, and humble respect for others who follow a similar path. She couldn't help wonder what the experience was like for Alma to face an honorless beast like Bison. But that wasn't the only reason she wanted to find him.
A tip from one of the YFCC girls on staff took her to the edge of the mist-shrouded forest on the outskirts of town. Intuition, chance, or fate carried her the rest of the way. "Alma?" She pushes aside a branch, leaning forward and stepping into the clear, letting it snap back into place behind her. "Alma, I-" She stops short, mouth open for a couple of seconds before she at last has the presence of mind to close it.
She knows at a glance the legend who's company he now keeps. For all the times Sakura offered to introduce her to Ryu, she only actually met him once, due to her own reconnaissance. But it was at a time that it mattered most. When she was weighing taking on a student of her own, just as he had done. He had warned her of the hurt of potential failures but spoke to her of the rewards as well, for both teacher and student, that could be obtained through no other means. Harboring his advice in her heart, she had taken Kentou on as an apprentice, and never looked back. That was a year ago.
"O-oh," the young martial artist stammers, coming to a stop at the edge of the trees, arms coming to rest against her sides. "I didn't know," she continues, apologetic in her tone. Hands come together in front of her, fist in palm as she offers a formal bow in the direction of the Ansatsuken master, eyes shifting back toward Alma, giving him a half-sheepish grin, "I should catch you later?"
Ryu.
"/The/ Ryu?"
He didn't mean to say that aloud. But Alma, though he never seems to truly lose the composure evinced by the poise and elegance of his posture and stance, remains entranced by the aura he has encountered, and cannot help but blurt it out.
~ To have come so far, and never to have met this man. ~
The young psychic was never one for idols or celebrities, even before the possibility of becoming a fighter or even model in his own right ever occurred to him; his life was always his own, his world profoundly centered, both for better and for worse. But Alma, in his research of the warriors of the world, could not avoid coming across the legend that is Ryu, and looking upon his aura now, he does not need tales to tell of the man's power and ability. 'Looking', indeed, is less the right word for what Alma detects. He is used to seeing vibrant colors, telling and distinct. There is little to be read from the pervasive, nigh-invisible force that is what Alma perceives of Ryu; only that there is here a profound strength, and that is does not need to be feared.
His awe does not fade, but he does not feel swept away.
He feels, somehow, even more at home than before.
Needless to say, Alma is not surprised that the way Ryu speaks of Hiten-Ryu is not in the manner of one who learned about it from watching Fei Long's movies. At the recognition of his name, however slight, Alma can only bow again wordlessly-- but at the comment about the style, he raises his head and grins. It is a mild grin, soft and subdued as are most of his expressed emotions, but his eyes are bright with vibrant spirit.
"I began training in Hiten-Ryu when I was young," he says quietly, tone respectful, "but when I came into my own--" It is perhaps the ideal phrase for all that occasioned and accompanied his first grasp of what is known as Psycho Power and the beginning of his fighting career. "--I began to develop on my individual strengths. I have deviated from the rule of the style in the process, but I believe I maintain its spirit." Having always admired the style's penchant for encouraging the dramatic and symbolic nature of combat, his own adjustments, in his mind, feel in keeping with the spontaneity of the style itself, even if now to look upon Fei Long himself and Alma side by side would be to see two very different fighters. Few styles are as Hiten-Ryu in that regard. Destiny, perhaps, at work.
"I--"
Alma pauses, yet does not seem to hesitate; his lips work slightly, as though rather he struggles to push through them the feelings he desires to express.
"Ryu... sir..."
Soon, there is no doubt in his mind.
"Please allow me to challenge you."
Only thus can he offer the totality of his self.
"I beg of you a match."
Dwarfed by the power before him even as he is overwhelmed by the tangled weave of his being, as dancing alone in the mist he felt utterly unable to comprehend, Alma nevertheless feels only able to throw himself against the mighty rock that he sees, to define himself through the imprint that is made. Victory is far from his mind. The fight itself is everything.
He feels confident of that. But still...
Never before has Alma hesitated to challenge another, eager to reach out and touch their souls; he has seen it as a veritable metaphor for living, and as such something to be considered an end in itself, almost an inherent good. Yet suddenly, bizarrely to him, he feels his resolve abruptly waver, and for a moment he averts his eyes from Ryu.
"...if we fight... then... maybe I..."
Alma's heart is both within him, and his companion; to be himself, to affirm the bonds that define him, Alma must experience it as both, as he had been able to do minutes ago.
But for the first time since the death of his mother, since the emergence of the energy now latent within him, standing there amidst the mist and grass and the gaze of a mighty warrior, Alma Towazu feels alone.
"...maybe... I..."
~ Isn't it just... ~
For the first time since that night immersed in autumn rain, since the day that he knew he must either live or die but nothing in between, Alma cannot quite grasp, cannot put his finger on, why, exactly--
~ ...pointless, though? ~
--he wants to fight.
And then she appears--
"Hotaru?"
--and with her, his heart, leaping up into his throat.
His gaze shifts toward her slowly, his chin still angled down to form a melancholy profile, his beauty wreathed by the ethereal embrace of the mist swirling about him. His eyes are soft in the manner, though preternaturally clear and lacking any other common indicators, of one who has been weeping. But his smile, heightened by the sweet relief of a long-awaited reunion with a loved one, hearkens at an undying spirit.
"No-- please, stay."
Oddly, perhaps, the first thing he thinks is not at how happy he is to see his precious sister, or how delightfully absurd it is to meet her and this man at the same time, or at how she must have gotten here. The first thought that comes into his mind changes everything.
~ She has struggled so much. ~
Alma's power brings people together. It tears down boundaries, between the body and the mind, between the self and the world, between person and person; it defies convention and defies even the natural order of the universe in its heedless blended, in its continual reaffirmation of the essential unity of all things. But to speak of individuals as separate is not merely convention, even if it is a misunderstanding of the human condition, in Alma's eyes, to think of them as divided or alone. Each person, each thing in this universe, has their own story. Hotaru has a story. Ryu has a story. This clearing has a story. And Alma has a story.
"Hotaru."
Alma speaks to her, but his shining eyes turn toward Ryu.
"We have so much to speak about."
In his smile and his gaze, the serenity of supreme resolve.
"But for now..."
Though at peace, his very being bespeaks his readiness for battle.
"Will you stand by me?"
For this is our story, unfolding.
Within it, his heart will find its place.
Ryu shrugs slightly. The Ryu? Who knows. He professes to no particular greatness, no particular pedastel holds his bare feet for long. The gi-clad nomad isn't concerned with Alma's awe - that element of people's reaction to him, he tends to shrug off. For reasons that he plays close to his chest at all times, the Ansatsuken Wanderer holds himself in no special, high regard. Follows his path not out of a belief in right and justice, per se.... but in a duty to himself, and the things he has been taught about war, the world, and mankind. There are many in the world who seek to master the martial arts to kill for what they believe, many who will go as far as they can to get what they want. Fewer who stand in paradox, opposing that entire idea... who learn to destroy so that they might defend, who learn to overpower so they might serve. The man known only as Ryu could have been a warlord - a crimeboss - perhaps the ruler of a small country. Instead, he is little more than a monk without a monastery, a disciplined ronin. And yet, that is everything to the man.
Alma's request is far from a new one to Ryu. Indeed, it might even be called expected. But it is far from unwelcome. The Ansatsuken Wanderer is not immediate with his acceptance, studying the younger fighter more intently, as if silently, intuitively taking his measure. He has ample experience with the sort of will energy wielded by the passionate champion - he can sense how it burns within Towazu. Hotaru's arrival does not immediately take Ryu's eyes from Alma. He's still considering the boy's words, his puzzle, "You ask people why they fight, most have an easy answer. To protect, is common. To defend. Even the evilest of warrior may tell you he hordes his strength to protect himself, or some esoteric idea or force." The words are quiet, but intent, Ryu feels it's rather important, "You must not use your fists to assert your will, but rather to understand yourself, and help others to do the same. The lessons of battle can be difficult indeed - but water always flows onward." Battle too hard for something one once believed, or someone one no longer is, and the price is dear indeed. The willow bends in the harshest of winds, but it does not break.
"Hello, Hotaru." A shift to tone, more relaxed, less somber, far less intense, and Ryu offers a smile towards the girl. She looks nervous, and it seems to momentarily amuse the Ansatsuken Wanderer, lightening the mood a bit - given the nomad's ties to the very energy around him, it's almost tangible.
"Do join us, I'd enjoy a spar. And tell me, how is your student?" Either he knows about Kentou directly, or more likely he's inquiring regardless of what's transpired since they last spoke. ... that, or he considers her decision a foregone conclusion. Nodding to Alma, the Ansatsuken master amends, "Do not allow the outcome of a battle, even a war, to cloud your purpose - judge instead by the battle's /course/."
COMBATSYS: Ryu has started a fight here.
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Ryu 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Ryu has joined the fight here on the right meter side.
> //////////////////////////////]
|-------\-------\0 Ryu
Her name, spoken as it is, is answered with a smile. That sheepish reluctance at believing herself to have interrupted melts fast at such open acceptance from the young man she had sought. He encourages her to stay and she takes a step forward, responding with a slight nod as she moves further away from the border established by the treeline behind her. Stepping lightly, as if treading across sacred ground, she draws nearer to him.
The words he spoke just before she made her presence known are reflected upon as her mind catches up to the significance of this gathering. It's not the words but the tone; not reluctance, for she's never known him to shirk a challenge; something else she can't quite place. Another step closer is taken. She wants to rush to his side, take hold of his arm, ask him the things on her mind, to hear his thoughts, make sure that he is well. But that is not what he's asked of her just yet. He wants her to stand by him.
"Nothing would mean more to me right now than to do that," comes her unhesitating answer as she takes that last step forward and turns, now at his side, glad to be able to fullfill such a request. Her eyes fall to Ryu then. To call him wise would be an understatement. His perspectives, his insights invaluable to the girl who's always looked to those who have gone ahead for advice and counsel. A soft nod, her eyes averting to the side, is the way she takes in those words. If only, she muses, she had understood those things before Kataki had gotten to her half a year ago. Things might have gone so differently. But she can't relive those days, or take back what was done.
He invites her to join the two of them and her eyes snap back to him, her smile returning, "Thank you." And then comes his question, asking after the boy that the girl has spent so much time and effort to hone into a growing fighter and Hotaru's eyes widen with a start of surprise. Then he remembers their chat. "Kentou is coming along very well. Day after day he continues to do me proud," comes her answer, head bowed just slightly, cheeks blushing faintly. "Thank you," she adds, "Again. For your advice."
Ryu adds words for not just for Alma but both their sakes and the girl takes a deep breath in then exhales slowly. Turning her shoulder toward Ryu, arms raised, she looks toward Alma. "How long has it been, I wonder," she begins to ask, expression lost in thought for just a moment, "Since we fought side by side. This truly is a special day."
Attention turning back toward Ryu, the young Kenpo artist continues, "You lead, and I'll follow. In some ways, this is your moment, Alma, but I am so happy that you are sharing it with me." Her stance is loose, standing lightly on her toes, body moving with a certain rhythm inherent to her Chinese style of martial arts. Another breath is taken, the girl refocusing her thoughts, "Ready." All her lessons, training, practice, and relentless pursuit of improvement have been for moments just like this. To not stand on the sidelines watching living greats do battle, but to fight alongside and against them. The aura about her is exhilarating, her focus honed to a sharp edge.
COMBATSYS: Hotaru has joined the fight here on the left meter side.
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////////////]
Hotaru 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Ryu
COMBATSYS: Hotaru focuses on her next action.
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////////////]
Hotaru 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Ryu
Fire.
Alma is a fire, radiating endless light. He is most often a gentle flame, his heat drawing others to him, soothing those who travel their own path, easily to pass over in its unassuming nature yet its presence palpable nevertheless. So gentle, indeed, that those who do not know him as a fighter or are unable to detect that facet of his convictions could never imagine him angry, and certain could not guess at the expansive fury he unleashes in the midst of combat. But that fire, it rises and rages, it consumes everything until, paradoxically perhaps, even hatred is impossible. That fire is one of love, of true and undeniable passion, for it devours but does not destroy, breaks down everything to its most basic and primordial state, brings that which was once distinct together into the seamless ash of souls spent from collision. Alma himself is the light, for that is how he is known, and that is how he knows himself. But his heart is the fire.
And fire is fluid, too, in its way.
But there is no darkness in Alma's world.
Even in his tranquility, even when others might /describe/ him as the placid surface of a pond, a fire burns to banish shadows, to reach toward life and the light. Perhaps this is how Alma will always be. Perhaps this is the most beautiful thing about him. Yet how strange, then, that all his most defining moments were accompanied by water, that some third of the names he gives to his techniques reference it. And how disturbing was that moment before Hotaru arrived, when the fuel for that fire seemed suddenly and inexplicably absent, when Alma's seemingly unshakable faith faltered briefly in weariness and confusion. Fire ignites everything, so long as the flame is bright enough. Alma's flame is endlessly bright.
But water, too, is a force such as this. His opposite has defined him.
~ Jiro... ~
The true test of his faith-- will be embracing the darkness.
"I will become..."
His bright gaze, shifting from ally to opponent, radiates a gentle force.
"...a sea of flame."
Chest swelling with love and emotion, eyes slightly widened with the intensity of his focus and of the moment, nevertheless Alma's features are utterly undisturbed, calm and serious. "Hotaru," he murmurs to her, voice slightly choked, his eyes upon Ryu, "I have missed you terribly." Yet he smiles as he says this, and when his gaze turns one last time to her, the myriad of sentiments his words cannot express mingle in his eyes. Though there is the recognition he has failed in his promise to be by her side, there is shame or regret, but endless grace and gratefulness that she should unhesitantly seek him out and accept him; there is the some unconditional acceptance of her, his sister, that she is showing of him; the fuel of the flame that burns.
"...my... sister..."
Though unshaken, he is modest in the face of his own awe.
"...how I love you."
He looks away, toward his destiny.
"If it is mine," he whispers, "then it is yours."
A sea of love; a sea of flame.
"Let's do this."
Together.
Alma Towazu steps forth and grins, stance shifting smoothly to a hidden rhythm.
"Please, Ryu, sir..."
And a halo of light begins to suffuse him.
"...do your best."
Lunging forward across the grass, kicking up dew in his wake, he plunges gladly toward his fate, right fist extended, a lance of light bright in his grip.
COMBATSYS: Alma has joined the fight here on the left meter side.
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////////////]
Alma 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Ryu
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Hotaru 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Alma successfully hits Ryu with Self Expression.
- Power hit! -
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////////////////// ]
Alma 0/-------/------=|=------\-------\0 Ryu
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Hotaru 0/-------/-------|
If one is to dedicate themselves to truly finding a higher path, well, one can't exactly pick and choose how to apply it, even if Hotaru's presence were unwelcome. As the threads entwined to bring Ryu to the training Towazu, so the same currents guide Futaba to the meetingplace at nearly the same time. At a point where Alma most needs the power inherent in true friendship. One of the most joyful aspects of /being/ alive, "You can never lose, so long as you know when to fight." Ryu offers somewhat paradoxically, his own senses distracted by the aura of power that builds up around Towazu. A flame indeed - but without darkness? Ryu doesn't see the same picture that Alma does, this time. It would go against the overall balance and damnable equations of the galaxy if one could build up a flame that bright, a passion that idealistic, and not cast one hell of a long, deep shadow. It practically flees from Alma - hiding away in the recesses, the edges, around every corner from the core of the warrior's being. For the first time, as that power builds.... Ryu's smile fades to a thoughtful frown.
This boy has unrealized potential - that much is obvious just from the roiling waves of energy nearly pouring off him. His words are taken in, a glance paid to Hotaru, considering her preparations as well. This will not be easy... but seldom is easy what the nomad seeks. A nod is offered to her thanks, and then Alma is upon him. While his feet shift swiftly, the inspired Towazu is faster still - launched on a white-hot fist of illuminating Soul Power, which rips solidly into Ryu's chest as he twists aside, the all-out blow enough to topple many of Alma's opponents... but not this one. He staggers, he twists, and he recovers, taking another stride and simply going with the proverbial flow, "A sea of flame burns indiscriminately!" Ryu retorts, suddenly all business in his actions.
His right heel touches down, his body twisting with the motion, and the corresponding, red-gloved fist all but rockets in a straight, downward angled strike aligned squarely with the center of Alma's ribcage, a precision blow meant to take the legs right out from under him in return, "What do you illuminate? Fire without purpose consumes without end or meaning."
Perceptive, she senses some of those countless emotions the young man has at this special reunion. She can imagine the guilt he might have, not having been able to be right with her during one of her darkest times. "I want you to know," her voice is just above a whisper, the words audible by all but meant for the young man at her side, "I am doing well... better than before, even. You don't have to worry." If there was anything she could do to release him of that shame he carries, she would do it. For now, words will have to suffice.
"Together," she states back to Alma, echoing his unspoken word, maintaining that stance of hers. It imbues her with a sense of freedom and control, the power of flight or the edge in speed available with just the slightest shift in focus. Alma leads the charge, just as she asked. His first strike is true, but his need to react in turn will also be tested. It is in that moment that the girl moves, stepping forward, her body collapsing into a low stance, one leg out in front of the other, her arms out to her sides for balance. If Alma speaks of fire, then the motions of the fighter at his side may be as fluid as water as Hotaru proves her adaptable nature on the forge of combat. Having adjusted to so much turmoil in life, it's only expected that she would bring that flexible nature to the way she fights.
It is a transitory moment, as she achieves that posture for only an instant before springing into a spin through the air. Arms extended from her sides, body spinning laterally, the girl twirls into a graceful, horizontal cartwheel, attempting to buffet Ryu with her feet. If given the chance, she'll follow up, landing on her left leg, but riding out the momentum by springing up into a second sideways cartwheel just like the first before coming to land on her own two feet again.
COMBATSYS: Alma blocks Ryu's Sakotsu Wari.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///////////////////////// ]
Alma 0/-------/----===|==-----\-------\0 Ryu
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Hotaru 0/-------/-------|
'You can never lose, so long as you know when to fight.'
Alma knows this is true. This is why he was at first unhesitating in challenging Ryu, and why he is so often unhesitating in challenging or accepting challenges from everyone else. The conditions for 'victory' are rarely as clear-cut as they might seem in the superficial sense. Who is standing and who is left in the dust does not always indicate who has won, who has proved themselves as an individual. Even the strong may live in fear, without passion or duty, may become less of themselves through triumph. It is fighting when he knows that doing so will prove his integrity that makes 'victory' seemingly inevitable in Alma's eyes.
He assumed that the challenge to Ryu, the 'clash of souls' as he calls it, would by itself prove its integrity, but he needed to pause to question that; it is one thing to be true to himself, and another to merely be eccentric in his own way. Renewed by Hotaru's presence, however, he became sure again that he was expressing himself, that he was reaching toward his destiny, as ordained by his very essence. He had his answer once again, and with it, he could go forward.
But an answer does not cause the world to cease to be problematic.
And such gives meaning to his conflicts, as they arise again.
Alma's opponent's words are sharp and pierce through the mist, straight to his heart, yet he does not falter. Their force is as fierce a challenge as the fist that comes his way, and as he instinctively moves to deflect it, he rises to that challenge.
"I seek to illuminate... the value of living."
Every sense, every fiber of his being, strains to confront this adversary.
"I wish, with my flame, to burn away despair."
Alma thrusts away the mist, and reaches beyond his limits.
"That is my purpose; my integrity; my duty, that guides my passion..."
And his spirit soars, as his body ripples through the air.
"...as my heart guides my fist."
And this time, it does so well, well enough to parry Ryu's potentially crippling blow, Alma gritting his teeth as he guides the fierce punch astray but continuing to keep up the pressure of his assault even as his companion joins him. He spares a moment to regain his footing, chest swelling again as he gathers his power, but even as he does so he continues to speak quietly. Yet his thoughts do not seem elsewhere. The words simply emerge from him-- as though he were not even aware of his own speech.
As though this, too, were the fight, not a distraction.
"I do not think," he murmurs, "I have ever truly hated in my life; all that I have feared I have also loved, save one thing. That one thing has been despair itself, meaninglessness, the triviality of living. That afflicted those I loved, and in so doing, threatened me. I made it my enemy, and despised it; when I ceased to fear it, I made it my opponent, for that struggle had defined me, given my all my strength, and traced my history. I have gazed with righteousness upon those who misuse their strength, who deny opportunities to others and fail, in their confusion and selfishness, to see the opportunities life truly affords them. I want to show with every breath how they are wrong. When I say my own name... that is what I mean... when I say it..."
Flames begin to gather around his feet, as though the mist itself had been swept into a pale, ethereal inferno.
"...and yet I wonder..."
How he had raged against Kain, for corrupting Jiro; how intensely had he argued that Jiro's dark rage could become a symbol of his own true passion and integrity, and not a mark of his fears and insecurities as it became and as his friend eventually overcame; with what certainty he had thought of salvation for Rugal, for Duke, even for Benimaru-- and for Bison.
"...if I cannot be this man..."
He leaps forward, flames exploding from mighty spinning kicks.
"...and love without consuming, without seeking to change."
Is this, too, within the capacity of his invasive Soul Power?
COMBATSYS: Ryu blocks Hotaru's Medium Kick.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////// ]
Alma 0/-------/-----==|===----\-------\0 Ryu
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Hotaru 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Ryu interrupts Rising Fury from Alma with Shoryuken.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///////////////////// ]
Alma 1/-----==/=======|=======\-------\0 Ryu
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Hotaru 0/-------/-------|
It's strange, facing off against Alma and Hotaru, Ryu finds himself feeling oddly nostalgic. Is this how it seemed to Gouken, when he sparred the teenage Ryu and Ken? Talented, coming into their own, impressively strong in their own rights. That power of brotherhood urging them onward, to find ways to surmount obstacles, even when those obstacles happen to be one another. Ryu smiles as Alma shoves a forceful, energized guard into the path of the Ansatsuken master's hurtling fist, the thudding impact sending Ryu back a half-step, his head turning sharply as Hotaru joins the fray, and the Soul Powered warrior renews his assault, "Change is... inevitable." Hotaru gets there first... so fast. It's every bit the equal of Alma's initial charge, and then some - Hotaru has indeed been training. Ryu sees it immediately. He suspected it from her stance, her bearing - he knows for sure as he twists about, a vertically aligned, granite-hard forearm slamming home against Futaba's swinging legs, "What matters is if you can see it, if you can become more.... than you were.... before." The words are succinct, breathed out between beats, in synch with the perfectly fluid motions the Ansatsuken master makes in defense. The momentum behind Hotaru's strike is impressive indeed, but almost all of the initial strike is dissipated into that resilient guard as Ryu shoves off the blow. The talented girl would have a chance to follow up, if Ryu weren't already turning back to face Alma.
He drops low, shoving off the high guard, and swings his right fist around, cocking it at his side. Normally, this particular technique is not part of the prelude of a spar with Ryu - but Alma is neither typical, nor holding anything back. Equal and opposing reactions also scale inward and outward rather intriguingly. Alma swings in, leaping with full fury and ample Soul Power, and the fiery wave washes over Ryu.... before Towazu is quite literally blasted upwards, and away. Ryu launches skyward as if he'd been shot from a cannon, fist leading as he unfurls into a fearsome, direct, singular uppercut. A blow similar to the one which scarred Sagat, though this Shoryu does not tear, does not penetrate - the force, immense as it is, is tightly controlled. Complete discipline in a single, nigh unstoppable strike. The impact resounds vibrantly as it collides with Alma's chest, reaving up into the handsome youth's jaw as the wind whips through the rising Ryu's hair, his voice intoning a fervent, elemental, "SHOOOOOORYUKEN!!!"
The Rising Dragon. One of the principle spirits of the hybrid style he utilizes, and one of the most feared techniques executed by its practitioners. Gouken's version of the Shoryuken may not be intended to vivisect - but it does its job admirably. Ryu twists a single, fluid rotation at the apex of his rocketing ascent, and drops lithely back to the ground, drawing a deep breath and turning to face both of the next generation's champions, "What seems trivial or frustrating is often a lesson we have not learned. It is best to heed them - the universe can get quite insistent." Ryu smiles, slightly, adding simply, "Often peace and beauty are only perspectives, in the ugliest of times."
Everything happens in a blur of blue fabric, white mists, and orange flames as the trio all come together at the same instant, two young fighters trying themselves against /the/ Ryu. For that is what he is. For all his unassuming appearance, there is one name above all others known around the world for what he can do. As Hotaru spins in to catch him with her feet, she remembers the childhood arguments she would have with her older brother about who the strongest fighter in the world really is.
"No one is stronger than father," the naive girl had proclaimed.
"Don't be a fool." Gato's retort had been impatient. "Ryu may very well hold that claim. Though I will defeat him someday - just as I will defeat father."
Her kick is rebuffed, forcing the girl to land early, twisting down with all that rotational momementum. She doesn't put that energy to waste, however, continuing to move non-stop as she swings out behind her, both hands held open in order to deliver two firm chops as she finishes twirling forward to face Ryu. But the veteran fighter has already slipped out of sight, crouching down into the attack that is to come. Recovering quickly, the girl takes a step backward instinctively, sensing the tremendous amount of power about to be made manifest.
And that's when she learns, without a doubt, that technique seen in person is nothing like what one sees on the video replays.
'It's just a really good uppercut.' Hotaru had mused the first time Sakura Kasugano had raved about that world famous attack. She had since learned better, but she never knew just how abjectly wrong her initial assessment was until Ryu unleashes it here and now. That singularity of purpose that takes Ryu into the air provokes a quiet gasp of awe. Someday she hopes to have refined an attack to be that precise, that pure. 'Simple' in its outward beauty, perhaps, but no so much in its execution. That much is clear. It barely registers that the legendary technique was just unleashed on her hapless partner. Not until a split second later, when Ryu turns and returns, as is inevitable, to the ground a little ways in front of her does she snaps back into the present.
Bringing her arms up, the girl beings to circle the Ansatsuken fighter in a stance not unlike that practiced in many Tai Chi kata, always facing him with each passing step, looking for that right window. A glance is cast toward Alma - she can't afford to fret about now. He'll have to hang in there even after such a hit. "Master," she speaks up as she maintains her circling, granting him the title she is certain he merits, "If peace and beauty may be merely perspectives, what of their opposites? Malice and hatred... What of techniques... are there those that defy simple relative perspectives and should never be used... no matter how noble we may believe pursuing them may be?" Sakura hinted as much when trying to convince the girl to abandon that malevolent art she had picked up in the wake of Kataki's interference. But Sakura made it sound like Ryu knew more on the matter. Now she can ask that loaded question.
She doesn't linger forever, however, completing that circumference around him before she springs forward. Believing to see her opening, the girl closes the distance between them with remarkable speed, committing her whole body into the attack to come. Hands go for Ryu's forearms as Hotaru attempts to sieze a tight enough grip to hold him in place. To try and bend his powerful limbs against his will is a daunting prospect, but she'll try to leverage speed and surprise and hope to accomplish it all the same - all with the intent of leaving him vulnerable to the series of quick, stepping kicks up the front of him before vaulting off his shoulders to land somewhere behind him of successful. "Ya, ya, ya!"
Light.
Alma is flying, soaring through the air in a graceful air, and his gaze fixes on the sun, a shaft of sunshine piercing through the morning mist directly into his eyes. Momentarily, he is blinded, and in that time he experiences only one sensation: the raw and glorious awe that suffuses his entire being. At first, mind blank, he presumes he is merely reveling at the sun. But the light begins to fade, and he realizes that his arc is turning, that he is /falling/, and then, oh yes, he remembers.
He remembers from whence that awe originated.
Body twisting and spiralling uncontrollably, entirely stunned, Alma crashes into the grass, face slamming into the dirt. Again, he is blinded--
Darkness.
What mastery; what technique. To see this aura in action, to experience it with his other five senses -- to confront it with his own self, to clash against the mightiest of souls -- illuminates for him what he has been denying.
~ Change is inevitable... ~
To be satisfied is not enough.
Alma had told himself that he could be satisfied like this-- doing a duty that affirms his individuality, having found and then refined his passion-- having drawn upon a sea of flame that, as he has expressed here and as he always hoped, can indeed love without consuming, heat without burning. Theoretically, he could be-- if he did not change. But even a man entirely sure of his own character, fulfilled by his own nature and its consequences, changes. Life is not finished.
To think so, even unconsciously, would deny his own oath.
Alma spits out dirt, and rises on his palms.
"...in a world... with which our selves are so intimately tied..."
Looking up, he appears dazed-- but resolute.
"...perspectives are powerful... and may be all we have."
There is a thin trail of blood dripping down his bronzed chin, yet his full lips are smiling.
"I have always yearned toward the sharing of perspectives."
The sharing of worlds-- the affirmation of their unity.
"But I think... I have forgotten... to look forward to being wrong."
His right fist clenches, a quiet flame erupting there.
"More than being right... I want to be /me/..."
And, as he attempts to rise again, thrusting out his hand unleashes a darting blast of white soulflame, aimed low to possibly take out Ryu's legs while he may be distracted.
%"...and I earnestly believe... rightness will follow from that."
COMBATSYS: Ryu blocks Hotaru's Shin-Jou Tai.
COMBATSYS: Ryu dodges Alma's Sacred Wave.
"One must not think only of intent and ends - life is not about goals and objectives. Every action resonates its nature, and intent is sullied by the unscrupulous and dishonorable." Ryu answers, initially, holding to a light, alert stance and turning as Hotaru flanks him. Clever girl - she turns him away from her fallen teammate, distracting him with both her sincere, and rather important query... and the quite tangible threat the talented Futaba still represents, "We are not islands, we are not gods - we touch all life, and are in turn enriched or diminished by our impact... not just what we are taught is 'important'. To be in harmony with nature, one must never supercede it. With great power, it is easy to become self important. With self importance, and power, one easily sees the change they manifest in the world, in one another. One can influence direct change. When one decides their will is paramount, their Way is lost, and they are no longer in accord. The greatest of protectors, and the worst of the tyrants can fall prey to this just as easily."
The last words are spoken as the Ansatsuken Dragon retreats, a step... his arm is grabbed. Hotaru's technique is impressive, practiced - dangerous even to a fighter such as Ryu. Her leverage subdues him momentarily, a shot of pain up his arm as she launches in... and the pained arm snaps taut. The fire in the nomad's dark eyes lights suddenly, and his internal chi reverberates with renewed fervor - the misty night is breathed in, a long slow breath. It fuels him, the cool replaces the burning in his nerves, his muscles flex, and her grip is broken in the same instant as her leap.
It is a moment for the slow motion cameras, but held only in the memory of one foggy night, as the kung-fu prodigy launches upwards... and Ryu bends subtly, stepping back another, fuller step, and simultaneously launching a forearm forward, low. Her kick lands true, and his guard leverages upwards, one powerful arm flexing into the platform Hotaru might have expected a bit later in the combination - Futaba can flip clear freely, but with little of her intended impact. Ryu shoves back, sensing as well as hearing Alma rise from the Shoryuken, shaking off the Dragon Punch, at least as much as one can. The surge of energy is unmistakeable, and Ryu leaps high, leaving the reaving blast to sweep low, swinging into the ground beyond its intended target. The dirt explodes, its punishment for getting in his mouth no doubt. That Alma is the vengeful sort, after all. The eruption of soulfire burns away the surrounding mists, and the wisping clouds shift over the partial moon to illuminate the gi-clad sillhouette that arches high and fast indeed through the air... forward, in at Futaba. Yes, she flanked him - but she also seperated herself from her partner. In surrounding him, Hotaru puts herself further from Alma, and that's precisely where Ryu leaps, and then quite alarmingly drops.
He descends like an artillery shell, complete with the audible whooshing of air, the King of Fighters coiled in on himself, efficiently focusing all his weight behind one leading fist, "HAAAAH!!!" It is no Shoryuken, but it is fast, and it is heading straight for Hotaru's skull. Let's say another thankful word for the crimson sparring gloves worn by the Ansatsuken Master, shall we? Hotaru is quite correct: the two friends are indeed fighting one of the world's foremost and most famous fighters. Yet fame is most obviously not what Ryu seeks. Hotaru's question is more intimate to Ryu than he lets on - Alma's resolution more familiar than he could ever know. Be true to himself. With the power to do great, and unspeakable things. It is a difficult choice, and most would make the opposite one.
Gouken called this 'hubris'.
COMBATSYS: Hotaru just-defends Ryu's Medium Punch!
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///////////////////// ]
Alma 1/-----==/=======|======-\-------\0 Ryu
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Hotaru 0/-------/------=|
Taking to the air in a flip, the agile young fighter is forced to adapt quickly from the adjustment brought on by Ryu's shift in posture. It was a risk moving away from Alma, no longer staying right at his side but rather forcing a divide in the Ansatsuken Master's attention. Not that she suspects Ryu has any lack of training in dealing with multiple opponents, but attention divided will still provide perhaps a small advantage. She touches down at the same time as Alma's attack slips beneath the now airborn martial artist.
Whirling around, her feet kicking up dirt amongst the mist, it becomes her turn to defend against that incoming technique. It takes a moment of clarity, brought on by Ryu's own lessons - wisdom imparted from his own life experiences - to guide her defense into a flawless reaction of timing, positioning, and chi manipulation as the girl shifts into a braced, standing stance, her right shoulder toward that incoming fist. Both hands sweep up from her side, cupped together. It's easy, with so much ambient life abundant in this forest sanctuary, to draw that needed chi, an aura of blue coursing along her forearms into the palms of her hands.
That cupped block accepts that incoming strike, her won more fragile hands shielded from the crushing force by that thin sheen of blue that manifests itself for only a fleeting instant as the girl lets her feet slip, her body turning with the momentum of Ryu's force to let herself slip out of the path of pain promised by that blow. She takes a second controlled step to the side afterward, her hands uncupping, that blue aura suddenly reversing course to be absorbed into her arms, reinvigorating the already eager young fighter and restoring in that moment an element of lasting strength to continue on.
Exhaling softly as she winds down into the low crouching stance demonstrated for a moment early on, the girl is quiet, her attention on Ryu, her expression intense. 'With great poewr, it is easy to become self important.' A warning. One she had to learn once the hardway and will hopefully not have to relearn again. She can't remember everything he says with the word-perfect recollection some might bear. But the message, the meaning behind, and Ryu's example resonates with her, and all three will linger long after this spar. She says nothing then, her first questions answered, her mind occupied with needing to study the implications and depth of the response. But for right now - action.
She maintains that stance for a moment, breathing in, focusing her all... and then she springs, unwinding into a short hop, both arms windmilling as she attempts to draw his guard high. It is partially to mislead, as the instant her feet touch the ground, the real attack is made manifest - a one handed palm strike, dished out with a singularity of purpose; the girl's entire body committed to the attack as leg and torso strength add to dedicated arm strength. Her right aims for Ryu's chest while her left slams out in the opposite direction, providing critical counterbalance to keep from committing so far that she simply topples forward with her momentum. "HAA!"
Just a little... more time.
If Alma just had a little more time to catch his breath, to focus, he would be able to more fully rouse himself out of this daze, recover from the fatigue that is already setting in, and prepare for a suitable counterattack. Here is his chance, too; he watches in fascination as Hotaru matches Ryu in their exchanges, beautifully and artfully recovering and responding. The champion is preoccupied. Respite beckons. Perhaps that would be the best strategy.
Grunting, Alma rises from his knees, stumbling forward.
But a strategy to what end?
He cannot watch as his sister fights alone.
His stumble becomes a forward rush, awkwardness fluidly morphing into grace, like a hunting cat recovering mid-dash; it is elegeant moments like these that might make an audience think for a moment that Alma had stumbled intentionally, dramatically, to heighten the tension. It is moments like these, as he sprints with all his might to reach the fighters before Hotaru's strike, that reveal him for who he is-- that demonstrate his perspective.
To hold back now...
He leaps up to attack from the air again-- and appears to miss. He does not loom up at Ryu but veers to the side, as though dodging /at/ him. Yet it soon appears instead that Alma is attempting to learn his lesson from the last encounter, for instead he unfurls into a fierce and quick kick toward the back of Ryu's head, even as Hotaru strikes out toward his chest.
...it would not be Right.
"Haaahh!"
It would not be Alma.
COMBATSYS: Ryu blocks Alma's Light Kick.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////// ]
Alma 1/-----==/=======|=======\-------\0 Ryu
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Hotaru 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Ryu fails to interrupt Soushou Shin from Hotaru with Joudan Sokutou Geri.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///////////////// ]
Alma 1/-----==/=======|=======\-------\1 Ryu
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Hotaru 0/-------/----===|
Despite the velocity of the sudden assault, Hotaru does not back down. She doesn't miss a beat. There is no force lacking in the strike thrown at the young fighter - but as spoken, and demonstrated, force alone is never enough. Such inherent struggle, breeds only struggle. The martial path is the one chosen by the Ansatsuken Master, indeed the only one the man called Ryu has ever known, but it is not for himself that he fights, and not to stop some singular person from walking their own. For a time, that consumed his destiny - and nearly his life. The force of Ryu's blows resounds against Hotaru's chi-fueled guard with focused energy of its own, a resonating impact that is at once alarmingly destructive, and uncannily controlled - a discipline in every motion, each strike, each technique a perfected treasure handed down through the ages. The styles themselves are not difficult to grasp, but the spirit behind it remains elemental, pure, at once every art in the nomad's repetoire, and nothing like any one of them.
He comes down hard, and a smile forms on his stern features. Alma. The youth had passion, true spirit, that was rare enough... but the unexpected talent had something more, he and his ally both - purity of purpose. Purity is powerful indeed, and power dangerous, but the surface paradox concerns Ryu little. Much in life that is vital, can be difficult. Like now. The flashback comes more strongly, the smile broadens, Ryu twists. A gloved fist slams up and around, colliding with the potent kick Alma levels solidly, the nomad's impressive strength deflecting the strike wide with a sudden, fluid rotation. His attention snaps back to Hotaru in an instant, but all it takes is an instant to be reminded of what Ken taught him about obstacles one cannot surmount alone. Or it could be delerium brought on by Futaba's assault as she whirls into him, ahead of his own kick, and instead of sending Hotaru back, it is Ryu who is suddenly lurching backwards, both palmstrikes ringing true into the Ansatsuken Master's solid torso. He staggers, loses his footing, and slides backwards, bare feet dragging through the dirt as he comes to a stop in a crouch, snapping his eyes back up to Alma and Hotaru.
He breathes, his eyes close a moment, and it takes him only that passing moment to rise once more, nodding respectfully towards the pair as he raises his guard once more, "You two are already more attuned to your surroundings, and each other, than you know. One needs only listen, and trust in both what they know, and what they do not." The cool mists enshroud him only slightly, their attacks will come again, and quickly. The Ansatsuken Wanderer doesn't seem too concerned about that, however, indeed the fire is still the same in the penetrating sable gaze that locks on first Alma, and then Hotaru.
Gouken had always said that he and Ken would know those who fought with the same spirit, each and every time it was there. While Ryu has missed it at times, it has always been there. (when he has paused to take his own advice). To help them find their paths is to follow their own, as one must always nurture that rarest of drives.
'The drive for good?' 'To champion your ideals?' Gouken frowned, 'No Ryu, Ken. The drive for understanding.'
Her attack delivered, Hotaru draws back quickly, maintaining a finely honed balance between commitmentto her attacks and not leaving herself readily open to return fire; avoiding gettting caught in a moment of being careless in her guard and giving that vastly more experienced fighter an easy shot to trip her up. It is no small coincidence that she seems on top of her game. Here, fighting alongside the young man who declared her his sister, partially filling that void left in her life by her absent brother and father... against a man she has always held in high regard - a man who's path through life represents, on many levels, what she would like to discover for herself. It's no wonder the young Kung Fu artist has been pushing herself so hard. A simple spar as it may be, she has always reacted strongly to such positive reinforcement as this moment in time provides, as if her real potential can only be touched upon when fighting alongside a kindred spirit.
She relaxes out of her stance, feet quick to find a bit of distance as she backs away from Ryu, sapphire blue eyes focused on him as he speaks. She can't help but look toward Alma as he does, her expression one of sincere warmth, a reflection of the deep friendship they hold. Indeed, this place has meaning, here and now, even if before she may have never considered it. It will be forever the spot she fought alongside her brother, their efforts becoming the one and the same for this short while. A slight, knowing nod is given Alma. Ryu may not know of the experiences the two have shared in the past, but he must surely be able to witness the effects they've had.
Her attention is redirected for Ryu, "Thank you. You have given me a lot to think on," she speaks up, her voice soft, out of respect for this occasion, her head nodding a second time as she considers the words that came afterward. Turning her left shoulder toward him, the girl rolls her right arm out to her side, drawing that blue aura to the surface once more. Vibrant, full of life, it takes only a moment to build it to its full potential before she steps forward, swinging her right arm out to unleash a shimmering sphere of churning energy from her fingertips toward Ryu. Blue, but lacking the elemental properties some martial artists can bring to the forefront, it promises pure concussive force should it find its mark. "Ya!"
Beautiful.
Alma meets Hotaru's eyes, his heart swelling as he does so. Their perhaps-cooperative success has little to do with the warmth he feels; merely the feeling of being at one with her own movements is enough to send heightened tremors through his rising spirit, rewarding his actions with a sense of deep fulfillment. All it takes is one look at her to be absolutely certain:
He made the right decision in throwing himself into the fray.
Yet for all his still-growing respect for Ryu, the normally-subdued youth cannot help but be visibly startled by the perceptive comments the nomad makes; it is as though he saw exactly what was passing between the two of them, and calculated his comment to affirm that. Alma swallows once quietly, before, without dropping out of his fighting stance or averting his gaze from his opponent, bowing his head deeply in grateful recognition. Ryu himself believes in what Alma is reveling in now.
The strength of his bond with this girl, forged so powerfully, so unexpectedly, and so pure, exists beyond any shadow of a doubt.
In an important sense, this fight is already won for him.
Normally, Alma's mindset would stop there, in a state of grace, able to put himself forth with utter clarity and sincerity after that. His identity is suitably demonstrated; now to share it through the clash of souls, outcome aside. He would, in a way, be finished. Such is how Alma has always operated, and it has served him very well, particularly within the conditions of his own philosophy.
Yet in an equally important sense...
"Hotaru--"
...this fight is just beginning.
"Together!"
He has mastered the shining of his light upon the world. This is something incredible. But to forge bravely into the shadows his own light casts, to call into question his own victory by not merely offering up the self he has affirmed but putting it on the line--
That is the next level, he is sure.
"Hyaahh!"
Charging in at an angle as Hotaru unleashes her blast, Alma leaps straight at Ryu, buoyed forward and not up by his Soul Power as he seeks to launch himself with speed and power, twisting into a graceful hooking kick that seizes advantage of his own momentum to allow himself to concentrate on technique-- and possibly pass through his opponent's superb defenses.
COMBATSYS: Ryu dodges Alma's Shooting Star.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///////////////// ]
Alma 1/----===/=======|=======\-------\1 Ryu
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Hotaru 0/-------/------=|
COMBATSYS: Ryu slows Hakki Shou from Hotaru with Hadouken.
Glancing Hit
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////// ]
Alma 1/----===/=======|=======\-------\1 Ryu
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Hotaru 0/-------/-----==|
The intuitive focus shown by both fighters is impressive indeed, and as Alma observes, all but visible to the rather attuned nomad. A firmer wind blows in from the west once more, Ryu's headband whipping out to the side as he faces down the two talented young warriors. Indeed, if they understand, as both seem eager to do... the fight is won for Ryu as well. The Ansatsuken Master smiles slightly once more, feet shifting subtly across the cool grass... as surely as he senses the bond between them, the subtle flow of chi that tempers their teamwork into resilient, efficient steel.... he all but feels where it converges as well, and it is with nearly perfectly synchronized motion that the young champion adapts to the impressive styles of his opponents. In an instant, the sidelong headband whips upwards, Alma's flying kick whipping violently through the trailing cloth as he sails overtop of Ryu, who drops suddenly low, a three-point crouch that nearly brings him flat to the floor, one leg stretched out behind him. But he's still on his feet.
Limbs flex, chi boils, and Ryu's own spirit spikes, soars, cries like an eagle into the night air. His own compatriots are not here, but the essence of what they all fight for burns bright indeed. The Hadou, a primal tapping of chi from the roots of life itself. Ryu would say it is not unique to him, but few indeed have truly ever tapped that well, that purest, potent element. Ryu pushes back to his feet, it all happens in the blink of an eye - the racing burst of bluish chi from Hotaru is met with a coalecent blast of his own, Ryu's hands sweeping forward as he rises. Energy burns from his fingertips, wild blue fire rushing together in inexorable fury, "HADOOOUKEN!!" Critical mass is achieved almost instantly, but Hotaru's burst hits moments before that. The explosion happens -in- Ryu's splayed palms, the half-formed Hadouken erupting in all directions as Hotaru's blast rips into it, a shockwave of luminescent blue exploding in a ragged blossom in all directions, as Ryu steps backwards once, twice, scorchmarks blackening his gloves, his fingertips, though one has to give him credit for looking remarkably unscathed indeed.... perhaps the chaotic shockwave was not quite as out of control as it first appeared. Learn to expect the unexpected, Master always insisted.
It's something these two will certainly need to prepare for, as well, in more ways than one. For all their spirit, and skill, and raw strength... for all the hope he feels, Ryu knows all too well that no one's path is set, and the dangers of the many choices ahead of each. He used to wonder, why Gouken did not warn him what was possible, sway him from the potential fall? From the very concepts he warns these too off, tonight. As his master warned him, oh so many times. Why didn't Gouken just tell him? Why doesn't Ryu, now? There is the faintest trace of a sigh, a more serious note to the young champion's analytical expression, that passes quickly back to calm readyness...
'....' ... there are some things that all the warning in the world cannot change.
Alma calls for them to attack at once, their efforts combined, as necessary against one of Ryu's calibur. Projectile and kick moving in nigh synchroneity. As her own projected chi collides with that blue energy gathered by Ryu, the Kenpo artist draws her arm back, arms coming up, readying defense for anticipated retaliation that never comes. It's not clear to her what precisely transpired; only that she needn't fend off Ryu's own chi just that instant.
Rising up to standing, the young fighter raises her arms back to a ready position, palms mostly forward, one arm extended for striking, the other bent slightly for defending. Another glance is spared Alma in those fleeting moments when all the activity comes to a stop just long enough for them all to get their bearings again. A breath is taken, eyes shifting back to focus on Ryu as for just a moment her mind wanders. So this is the man Sakura adored and dedicated her life to emulating. The comparison of her more spontaneous, often teasing peer to this nomadic sage brings a quiet grin to her lips.
She's about to dismiss the two as being nothing alike until she thinks back to the intervention the Kasugano girl had on her behalf, doing all she could to steer the Kenpo artist away from the dark path she was being drawn down. Unusually wise at that time, she decides. Maybe she's picked up more from Ryu than just his blue hued fireballs.
"Again," she whispers just loud enough for Alma to hear - not out of any intent to keep their next move a secret from Ryu but out of regard for the moment she finds herself overtaken with. "Together." she encourages, urges softly. And then she's off, darting forward once more. Drawing her arms in at first, she drops low, right foot far forward, left foot beneath her for support.
From that low stance, it's trivial for her to roll onto her side, tumbling forward try and slip in close to Ryu's left side at an angle too low to be easily stopped. When she comes out of the roll, it's with her arms sweeping in to try and get a quick hold of him like before. One hand snaps for his left arm, drawing it wide if she gets a hold. Her other hand goes to push against his chest and shove back with all the forward momentum she can muster, in order to throw his balance into question.
If that works out, she'll end up pulling him forward with her grip on his arm, her other hand tightening against his chest, as she attempts to twist the Ansatsuken artist to the ground with a surprisingly quick, solid slam to his side before letting go! Risky trying to get in that close to try and grapple the likes of him, but the girl does have some experience with taking down taller opponents.
"Yes--"
Again.
"Together!"
Thus far Alma and Hotaru's greatest achievement has simply been to /contain/ the great fighter they are up against, pressuring such that he has been unable to seize the offensive and turn the tide against them. Even if they only weaken him slightly in the process, if their teamwork can keep the both of them standing-- then their teamwork will endure.
For Alma's part, their coordination has nothing to do with psychic powers; at least, not in the conventional sense. Perhaps he would not be able to feel their bond so intimately were it not for his refined intuitions. Yet nuances aside, Alma is not reading her mind, and neither is he doing the approximation of that likely impossible feat that he managed when restoring her memories after Kurow's manipulations. This is pure friendship, and his Soul Power, if it influences the situation, merely does so as an element of himself and the nature of this human connection.
"Hraahh!"
This is pure.
Whether or not Hotaru will succeed in taking down Ryu, Alma will be lunging in again, once more attempting to capitalize on the distraction and the momentum that Hotaru is so skillfully providing. A fierce blow rockets toward Ryu's side, and the punch, if it connects or even if Ryu stumbles in defending against it, may add leverage to Hotaru's own attempt. If she does succeed in taking him down or if Alma is able to do so himself, he will try to follow this up with a powerful stomp kick to the same side.
His eyes are bright, his features intent.
Alma, light-bearer, plunges forth once again, fueled by his sea of flame.
COMBATSYS: Hotaru successfully hits Ryu with Hantentou EX.
- Power hit! -
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////// ]
Alma 1/----===/=======|=======\==-----\1 Ryu
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Hotaru 0/-------/---====|
COMBATSYS: Ryu interrupts Strong Punch from Alma with Shin Shoryuken+.
[ \\\\\\\\ < > ////////// ]
Alma 2/<<<<<<</<<<<<<<|=======\===----\1 Ryu
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Hotaru 0/-------/---====|
While the parallels between Ryu and his now rather accomplished student may not be readily apparent, the nomad would certainly hope he's gotten at least a few of the lessons through to Sakura. That, and well, with the Ansatsuken Wanderer, what one sees is more or less what one gets. No charades, and sometimes not half enough concern for social politesse for some people. But then, some would say that Ryu is sort of living in his own little world. Things just don't /work/ like that. Kasugano, on the other hand.... well, Southtown isn't the most forgiving city on Earth. It would be hard to grow up quite the same way as in an isolated old castle. The differences that divide are not matters of the soul, however. That speaks plainer than any geographic or experiential gaps. If he knew Sakura had chosen to help Futaba, well, he would be prouder still of the girl - as it is he merely tries to follow suit as best he can, in the moment. A girl who moves in mirrors and adaptations of ancient Chinese forms, rarely seen anymore, and another youth with the style so loved by Hollywood, made all the more dramatic to suit his remarkable talent at manipulating it.
The pair have pushed Ryu rather far indeed, now, and the onslaught is pressing... he sees what they're capable of, and the wager is matched. All in or not, the Ansatsuken Master is well aware neither of the friends are broke, just yet. The teamwork exercised by Hotaru and Alma is indeed daunting - as Ryu shifts to avoid Hotaru's assault, simultaneously turning his gaze to try to take in Alma's charge, he's taken down rather harshly indeed.
The swift dual assault seems set to go off without a hitch. The warrior in the white gi skids hard to the dirt, slamming a notable indentation where he hits, and slides back away from Hotaru a few feet. Alma's charge takes priority over clearing his head, however, and it's half instinct that sees Ryu twisting about, slamming the stomping foot aside as he kicks one leg, and then the other, back underneath him. He vaults to a crouch, and immediately, his left fist shoots outward, -slamming- harshly into Alma's ribcage, a bonerattling, breath stealing shockwave reverberating from the point of impact, as the air about them seems to almost rush inward itself, for a moment.
Then the fog erupts outwards in a dissipating mass of hurtling mist, a shockwave surrounding the launchpoint, and ground zero of the... tactical weapon that was apparently just deployed.
"SHOOOOORYUKEN!!!"
The shout echoes, the energy emenates in every sinew of tensed muscle as the Ansatsuken Wanderer rockets upwards, demonstrating his own ultimate variant of the legendary technique, the larger brother of the other equally ancient Rising Dragon. All that force is transferred to Alma via the passage of that gloved right, the uppercut crashing solidly into his chest, skipping cleanly into his jaw, and sending both men skyrocketing towards the diffused starlight in the cloudy sky.
The pair have him on the ropes, indeed - but the final moments of many compositions carries the most fervent crescendo. Not only for the benefit of the powerful duo - but, quite apparently, Ryu is throwing himself fully into the bout as well.
'Never ignore an opportunity to learn.'
She releases her grip on him as soon as momentum seals the deal in twisting Ryu to the ground. And it's a good thing too, as she gains just a couple of steps of distance before the master level fighter explodes into a fit of motion, energy, and simple... graceful power. As his left connects with Alma, she freezes, as if sharing for a brief moment that experience with her brother. Fortunately for her, it's not quite that literal as the air rushes in from behind her at first, only to explode back out past her as the technique transitions into the secondary strike. Hair and clothing tousled by the unleashed power, she brings her arms up, crossing over her face as if defending against an attack that isn't even coming her way.
The utterance of that world famous move makes her immediately realize that it isn't her but Alma that was on the receiving end of the entirety of it. Lowering her arms immediately, taking the opportunity to witness the legendary technique in close and personal without that inconvenient distraction of being /crushed/ by it. It's almost breathtaking in and of itself, the sight of it all, she realizes as she takes even more steps backward, direction shifting off over to the side in order to advance toward where Alma may land.
"Brother," she speaks up, voice stronger now. "I said this is your moment and you gave me the honor of sharing it with you. Thank you." she continues supportively. "Now it's up to you to complete it. I feel like we were all drawn here because of you and so I leave it up to you to discover to what end that may be." She takes a step to the side then, pressing her fist into her palm as she bows toward Ryu, twin-tails resting against her shoulders as she releases a soft sigh of contentment. So much to think on, so many memories forged here today.
"Thank you." is repeated, this time for the wanderer.
COMBATSYS: Hotaru assists Alma.
[ \\\\\\\\ < > /////////// ]
Alma 2/<<<<<<</<<<<<<<|=------\-------\0 Ryu
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Hotaru 0/-------/---====|
Vanished is the mist.
The cloak of morning dew that had surrounded them for all this time, that had shrouded Alma's dance and obscured Ryu's phantom approach, is torn asunder by the mighty shockwave that reverberates through the area at the nomad's blisteringly forceful strike. Again at the receiving end of their opponent's counter to their continued teamwork, this time Alma emits a gasping cry as he is blasted into the air-- and sees neither light nor darkness, but a painfully bewildering mixture of the two.
He cannot breathe.
He lands on his back, but his gaze to the heavens is vacant, sightless, the only movement he makes the slight working of his fingers and the faint parting and closing of his lips as he struggles weakly to bring his diaphram into order again. Even awe and glory are blasted away; even passion and duty are forgotten. There is no room in his consciousness for anything but the void that has seemingly been carved into him. Were he able to tilt his gaze downward, he would not be surprised to see a gaping hole where his abdomen had been.
~ Hotaru has... truly excelled. ~
Surely she can see it through the rest of the way.
~ It was... a good match. ~
Oh, yes-- he had been fighting. Yes, that was quite nice.
~ Rest, now... ~
He does not fear to slumber in the midst of emptiness. This emptiness he feels... it is so... familiar. Comforting, even. It is good to return here, to this place beyond light and darkness; the place where he was born.
'Brother.'
Where he was... what?
He cannot move, but he can still hear, and as he listens, the world begins to return. The void is filled by a jumble of sensations, of perceptions, of the unfamiliar and disjointed experiences that comprise the apparent world before it tastes the human touch. He listens to Hotaru's soft voice, the pain somehow ebbing, the faintest of strength somehow revealing itself buried within his body, and it occurs to him almost as a curiosity that he might, if he tried, be able to stand.
Then he remembers.
This void... it was where he was born.
That final night, when nothing made sense anymore.
When he lost everything.
When he had to choose to live or to die.
There was a void, complete and utter, beyond the grasp of meaning...
And then it filled with light.
Alma chose life, and it filled with light.
He chose to stand, and then he could.
"...sis...ter..."
~ I think... I will stand. ~
Suddenly, he can.
Reaching beyond his seeming limits to those reserves that never cease to bewilder even him when he reflects on them, Alma recovers from his paralysis to slowly but steadliy, face quietly composed and eyes again focused, get to his feet.
"...thank you."
He will return to that void someday, he knows, as will perhaps all, and on that day there will be no more light, and he will be able to sleep in peace. But today is not that day. Today, still, Alma will breathe in the cold comfort of that ultimate unity--
His shoulders and chest swell, eyes flashes, as he stares down Ryu.
--and breathe out the fire of his enduring soul.
He blurs forward.
This is for that day, the day that Alma Towazu was born, the day it was decided, by whom it is unclear, that he should live to be this man and see this day.
Igniting, Alma surges forth with the triumphant aura of a phoenix reborn, blazing brightly, trailing an awe-inspiring plumage of scintillating color, bringing with him the hues of indigo, cherry blossoms, and cloudstuff.
This is for that trial -- presented now as a furious array of flashing punches and kicks, the youth's form partially flickering between strikes as though bridging this reality and another -- and for what it awakened within the eternal companion of his heart.
The sea of flame.
COMBATSYS: Ryu auto-guards Alma's Trial by Fire EX!
[ \\\\\\\\ < > /////////// ]
Alma 0/-------/----===|=------\-------\0 Ryu
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Hotaru 0/-------/---====|
To what end? Perhaps Hotaru hasn't been listening as closely as Ryu thought! There is no end, so really it is rather a blessing that the journey remains the worthier part. Her faith in Alma is well founded, however, as Towazu manages to not only rise, but find his wits, impressively. It's a feat Ryu respects, and a sentiment he shares. The fight is far from over, and giving his all, in every moment... without that, what point is there honing these skills at all? What point then, living, if not fully? Of course, not everyone would consider staring Alma down while he flares soulfire and generally burns bright as the sun to be living fully, but no one ever said the nomad was particularly -normal-. The psychic's mighty, stalwart determination is met in kind. Ryu has been sorely pressed this entire fight - he aches, and while he has not been hit quite as hard as Alma, the opposing wills clash as peers, as the student finds his center, bursts into a fiery epiphany. The attack is astounding, a truly alarming amount of raw power... and Ryu moves as if ready for it from the beginning.
It is intuition, experience, that quiet warrior's sense that keeps some veterans alive long past their time, some fighters battling long past they should have fallen, by all rights. A guard too perfect to be improvised, and too rushed to be practiced. Soulfire broils outwards as the strike rushes in, and the nomad steps back, drawing a deep breath in... his own chi centers, his mind finds clarity, meditative peace - and with an explosive rush of air, the impact ruptures outwards, driven away just before it strikes, the Ansatsuken Master dropping back once more, subtly. The second blow rains in, and the other glove slams into place to deflect it wide. Ryu breathes out. Pace by pace, deflecting or absorbing and just staying a half-step, hair's breadth ahead through each motion, through each of the flurry of deft punches and brutal kicks, the nomad passes through the fire unburnt, a wispy aura of cerulean flame coursing faintly, but powerfully from his form. Bleeding off, no.... burning through him, coursing up as if from the Earth itself, as he pushes in on the potentially off-balance youth, shooting an ironclad grip at Alma's wrist.
Should that grip be found? Alma would suddenly find his feet kicked out from under him, and if Ryu has his way, he'll be snapped outwards by his leveraged arm like a whip, and abruptly slammed to the ground as the nomad shifts, dropping the momentum of the throw into a sudden, efficient slam.
"Haaaaah!"
COMBATSYS: Alma fails to interrupt Medium Throw from Ryu with Divine Intervention EX.
[ < > //////////// ]
Alma 0/-------/=======|==-----\-------\0 Ryu
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Hotaru 0/-------/---====|
COMBATSYS: Alma can no longer fight.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////// ]
Hotaru 0/-------/---====|==-----\-------\0 Ryu
A little bit more. A little bit more.
Alma's attacks appear ineffectual; the nomad's technique is nothing short of divine, a testament to the warrior's spiritual prowess, and the passionate blows rain down without result. Yet still, as though heedless, the youth presses on, driving his beleagured body as far as it will go. He had stepped into the shadows, fallen into the void-- and return to light. He is certain now, that however far his progresses, however much remains unexplored, this is the place to which he will always return; he is certain now, beyond the slightest doubt, that until the day of his final rest, whenever he returns to that emptiness, it will in the next moment fill with light.
This is who he is.
He just needs a little bit more--
And then he is falling. In the midst of a final and desperate blazing kick, his other leg has been neatly knocked out from under him. He is hurtling down, and there is only a split-second in which to react -- any normal human being would perceive no opportunity at all -- but here, maybe, if he's quick enough, if he's strong enough--
The impact reverberates through his body.
~ I was wrong. ~
here is no more strength left to offer.
~ It's not about wrenching that 'little bit more' out of me... ~
Who can say whether it is illusion or truth, what Alma feels then: a sense of inevitability, inspired by the preternatural grace and power of the man he has just squared off against.
~ I should change... my perspective. ~
The sound of Alma's slamming upon the ground has a certain finality to its ring; it resonates through the clearing, the grass around them rippling back, their forms clearly visible now that the mist is gone.
~ He is on... ~
Silence, and then stillness.
~ A different level. ~
And perhaps if that silence endures for a moment longer, perhaps if the two of them wait, they will hear his whispered word, laden with the sentiments faintly surfacing within his fading consciousness.
"...to...gether..."
~ I still have so much to learn. ~
Off to the side proves to be a perfect position from which to observe the final exchange of attacks. Attack after attack from Alma is defended against by the master; Ryu's defenses flawless at fending off swing after swing, driving aside the burning Soulfire before it can wash over him. It would be nearly impossible to coordinate such an offense and defense intentionally even if the two were to try. It all happens in a moment, scattering the few remnants of mist in the process.
In the end, Ryu reaches for Alma's forearm, whipping the young man to the ground to put an end to his ability to continue, and the forest clearing that was at first obscurred in fog seems brighter for the words and experiences shared here. And that is that. Alma gave his all, and in that moment before being forced to stop, learned what he needed to know. Rushing to Alma's side, Hotaru kneels down briefly, hand going to rest lightly against his chest for only a brief moment. "Fighting at your side taught me a lot. We'll have to do it again sometime."
Her hand withdrawing, Hotaru spins back up to standing, facing Ryu directly, arms raised back to a ready position. Her mind reflects upon the words offered by the astute discerning master. Think not just of goals and objectives, intent and ends. So often she's analyzed her own performance in matches from another angle - what did she learn, how can she get better for it. But there's more to it than that. And there's more to how one fights than simply securing victory or failing.
When she drew upon that horrific, devil-taught technique, it was to enforce her will upon anyone she saw. But in analyzing the aftermath, she became better able to see the effects she was having on others. "Sometimes," she speaks up, "I try to look ahead, down the line, in an effort to determine if what I am trying to decide is going to help or make things worse. It's hard," she admits, "Having a student... knowing that what I ask him to do is contributing to shape him into the man he will become..." She shakes her head slightly, a breath taken in as she regains her strength a little. "It feels like such a weight yet such a privilege, all at once." Her hands tighten, "How did you know if you were doing the right thing for Sakura? How can you know before it becomes too late to change things?"
The moment to catch her breath passes. There is more to this spar yet. Her own skills demand to be put to use and she wishes to continue, now just her and Ryu. To push her learning, her Kenpo, to keep trying against one of the best the world offers. She breaths again, and then becomes motion. A sprint forward, a quick leap, a graceful spin as she aims to snap her left foot out first for a leading kick into his chest or his guard, her right foot kicking next to serve as the means of springing backward as she tries to get range again.
COMBATSYS: Ryu effortlessly dodges Hotaru's Light Kick.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////// ]
Hotaru 0/-------/---====|==-----\-------\0 Ryu
Alma's passionate fervor does not only himself credit, but those around him as well. Ryu can see that clearly, even as the deceptively laid back blonde falls. The camaraderie between the pair is clear as it is powerful, and that sort of bond is only forged in one manner. It speaks to the character of each, but also what they have already seen, despite their youth. Not that the nomad is that terribly much older, in the grand scheme of things... but many miles have passed beneath his feet since those days. A respectful nod is given to Alma as his consciousness fades, and Hotaru checks on her fallen teammate, "You two make an impressive team." The Ansatsuken Master observes in even, polite tones, considering the downed Towazu for a moment before he looks back to Hotaru, "Your battles have already lent you much insight, but now I am curious how your own style has developed, Hotaru. I'm not sure I can promise you a proper spar, but." Ryu smiles slightly, and shifts back into a ready stance, holding his ground as the girl speaks her questions once more. This one certainly wonders along the correct course, from Ryu's perspective, but his initial concern becomes the whirring spin kick that snaps around for his chest, a weaving step back and slightly sidelong carrying him fluidly out of its path. It's as easy to miss the subtle shift as the subtle nuances of Hotaru's blurring, yet technically perfect attack - one bare foot drops back, his weight shifts back, visible first in the motion of one shoulder, and then the Ansatsuken Wanderer is no longer there. He all but blurs as well, spending little time on Hotaru's flank before he's back in on the talented fighter, with another of the fundamental techniques of his style.
The nomad launches himself in the air as well, spinning about as he lashes out with his foot, but that's where the similarities end. His leg rotorblades around, as if driven like an attack helicopter. Defying gravity the whipping kicks carry Ryu forward, bringing him about time and time again in the course of an instant, each time with crushing force, "TATSUMAKI SENPUUUUU KYAKU!!" comes the cry, again the mist shifts, this time rushing inward, and then up, a cyclone of cool, yet savagely whipping air rushing up around Ryu as he seeks to catch Futaba in that whirlwind of roundhousing strikes.
COMBATSYS: Hotaru blocks Ryu's Tatsumaki Senpuu Kyaku.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////// ]
Hotaru 0/-------/-======|===----\-------\0 Ryu
Time and again the kicks whip about, and the answer is only forthcoming in the moments after Ryu touches down, the hurricane dissipating as quickly as it came, "None of us can be sure that our actions will work out in the end, but it is still important to consider the impact of what we choose to do, and the motivations of those we would oppose. Or those we would help. You can never truly control another human being, not indefinitely, only try to act to protect the world from those who do try. You must understand that the worst of these men... are not different than you or I, they simply do not see. Do not even wish to."
Her blue-shoe clad feet touch ground just as wind, leaves, and dust stir up into a small, localized hurricane of force in motion. She braces, whirling to face Ryu as he comes in from her side, arms raises, shoulder turned toward him, left foot planted behind her for support. As each kick whips in, she does her best to defend against it rather than hope to escape the incoming attack entirely. She's not ready to draw back and lose ground just yet.
It's a punishing defense to weather out, her hands rising to intersect the kicks with her forearms, occasionally letting a strike glance off her shoulder rather than get a clean hit as she is forced backward all the same, feet slipping through the dirt. The powerful attack, both crushing strikes and point blank weather phenomenon in one, comes to an end just as the girl can take no more, staggering back, her arms and hands aching, still tingling from the blows that didn't land cleanly.
She nods just slightly, her stance relaxing only to flow smoothly into another as her left leg stays planted and her right foot twists, her body turned such that it is her back that ends up facing Ryu, the girl watching him over her shoulder, her right hand planted on her left knee. It's a tightly wound stance that seems at first wide open but for the way it can so easily transition to counter striking incoming attacks.
He advises a hard thing - to see others similar to herself. Frequently drawn up into fits of righteous indignation at those she considers unjust or just plain evil in nature, the thought that they are people just like she and the Ansatsuken master, doesn't sit well with her at first take. She avoids eye contact for a fleeting moment, "Are there not monsters among men? Aren't some worse than others?" she asks back, her voice wavering. Those that would seek to contorl others... she thinks of Kain... Kurow Kirishima... Vega and those enslaved to his dominion... The young fighter falls quiet, holding her breath as she moves, taking a step backward, bringing her closer to Ryu in the process.
A second step back is taken before she spins into her attack, twisting at her waist to whip both of her hands in toward his chest for a double palm strike. Her right hand leads, her left hand follows a split second behind, her body leaning into the attack to lend it weight. "YA!" But she doesn't stop moving with the strike, drawing her legs up, continuing with the momentum as she attempts to spin around to facing Ryu and slipping to the side at the same time, leaving herslef less open to counter attack.
COMBATSYS: Hotaru successfully hits Ryu with Medium Punch.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///////// ]
Hotaru 0/-------/=======|=====--\-------\0 Ryu
Fast, quick on the defense, quick on the offense. Weathering the storm of the gale force of his assault is impressive in and of itself, but Hotaru recovers quickly, thinks on her feet, and is back in again. It's a study in rhythm, the clean grace of the Wanderer's own defense to offense balance in his style, and Hotaru stays a step ahead this time. The palmstrike drives cleanly into the nomad's dense chest, driving him back by the will of the strike... rather than his intended evasion. A foot plants behind him, steadying, absorbing more of the impact of the followup. She pushes past the pain, and delivers a solid strike indeed, but despite the prolonged battle... Ryu still holds his footing, even smiles, albeit slightly - the strain shows on his face, and then begins to ebb. It's a remarkable thing, the human will, "You have gotten faster, stronger. Your technique, more adaptive. The way you fight now, you have learned to flow with the tides of each confrontation - it takes most much longer to understand that on an instinctual level."
He speaks, he breathes, he paces another step back from Hotaru - again the potent, peaceful yet immensely strong flow of the forest spikes its song, the coursing energy rushing through Ryu, as if he were focusing outwards through the forest itself, taking it in, along with his opponent, and his satisfaction that Futaba is on the road once more. Destiny is a fascinating thing, and more fickle than most would imagine, "As to monsters.... there is a monster in each of us. This is why it is so important to keep a level head, and never stop evolving both your art but also your appreciation for the world, and others. Never forget that those whose methods you despise, did not have what you had to keep them from those choices. What would have swayed them, what would now? That question... is much harder. Sometimes, too often, men become blinded by their own brightness. Those who use their power this way must be fought, but if you lost your way.... would you not want others to try to help you? Would you not want others to fight you? To also condemn the person.... is a much more complex, and precarious step." Past that point there is no chance to completely understand, no way to accurately know. It looks disgusting, heinous... but sometimes, taking a stand is enough.
There's always that niggling question, however. What about Gouki? Can one even -try- to redeem such a creature? Is there even man still within?
COMBATSYS: Ryu gains composure.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////// ]
Hotaru 0/-------/=======|====---\-------\0 Ryu
Coming out of her strike and slip to the side, free of immediate retaliation, the girl begins to circle Ryu, arms raised, her body turned to face him even as she maintains that circular path around him, a few feet out of obvious striking range for the both of them. The form is almost a kata unto itself, practiced by Tai Chi users as a means of focusing themselves, centering their minds and thoughts toward the middle. Ryu speaks, commenting on the changes he's seen in her own evolving skills, and Hotaru's mouth warms into a smile even as she continues that controlled pace.
Gone are the days when she used to throw herself frantically at her opponents, trying to maintain constant pressure in hopes of beating them before exhausting herself. Gone are the months of her servitude to that horrific technique, when she thought destructive force was the only thing that mattered above all else. It was coming out of that chapter of her life that she devoted herself to the more traditional side of her art. Going back to the basics, honing form, posture, and a fuller comprehension of the 'whys' and 'hows' behind her practiced Kenpo. With such reverence for the traditional techniques came a greater understanding of how they complimented one another and her track record of recent months has reflected that.
But the compliments, while significant coming from him, aren't just about her fighting. He uses the word 'confrontation'. He's referring to bigger things than a spar or sanctioned bout somewhere. She has learned to adapt to the problems life keeps throwing her way. It makes her better ready to hear the rest of what he has to say. A monster in all of us. It echos of what the creature... no, woman, Marise, had to say to her one night. The monsters in the heart of all mankind. And with that, she is reminded of her own words back to her. That she turned out the way she had because she hadn't the guidance of a loving mother or dear friends like Hotaru had. That with the right help in growing up, she could have lived a life not unlike her own, rather than becoming that frightful fiendish thing she carries herself as now...
Then she thinks of her own experiences. The months of leaning heavily on a violent technique with only the most unwholesome of intents. And all the endless patience of friends coming out of the woodwork to support her, try to guide her, and to show her what she had become. Slowly she nods. "I would," she replies as he speaks of others helping her find her way. "In fact, I believe I would need them to." she admits softly. Swallowing, she makes a resolution. A commitment to herself to try and keep his words in mind, to take them to heart. To think of what opportunies those she has frowned upon missed growing up that she had.
She stops her circling and takes one more step to the side, and then she's headed in, sweeping low in order to kick up into a horizontal cartwheel not unlike the one she had used at the start of the fight. But this time her hands are going for Ryu, not her feet, as she seeks to get a tight enough grip on the front of his gi to be able to twist him off his feet as she spins to the side, swinging her feet down, and attempting to land, finishing the technique by sliding the experienced fighter to the ground.
COMBATSYS: Ryu interrupts Medium Throw from Hotaru with Strong Kick.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////// ]
Hotaru 0/-------/=======|======-\-------\0 Ryu
While the words would be difficult for many to here, there is no judgement or condescension in them. Quite the opposite, Ryu himself understands all too well what it means to need just that, to be unable to overcome by virtue of oneself. For all the formidable capacity of mankind, the strong wills of the warriors in question, sometimes it takes a fresh look, someone to set the record straight. To care despite it all. The nomad's hands rise to his headband, tightening the knot once more as his eyes track Hotaru's sideways motion, considering her words and offering a nod of quiet agreement as he readies himself for her assault. She is indeed far more calculating, insightful into styles she does not know, and situations that are not an all-out frenetic race.
The patient focus the Ansatsuken Master brings to the fore is similar, and quite potent in and of itself. Her honed style is intriguing, partly for the elements of rarer, older technique, but it's this concept that Ryu's training centers around.
It's obvious it's not just a talent for dissecting techniques, but also something that sincerely intrigues and entertains the Wanderer. His eyes light up tracking the motion of the younger fighter, and as she whips in and grabs ahold of him, the harsh twist comes a bit too soon, as Ryu turns with and then overshoots her momentum.
By bringing his other foot up and around with all the force of that suggested momentum, axeing a heel led kick up and into her, the impressive impact enough to adjust Hotaru's course rather abruptly indeed.... and send her hurtling off in a new direction, instead, "HYAAAAAAAH!!"
Her improvements seem to be an excuse to step up the game, even in these final moments - he promised her as much of a fight as he could muster, after all. Apparently, Ryu is a 110% kind of guy.
She gets the grip she was looking for on the front of his gi, but it ends up not working to her benefit in the slightest as he reacts early, ahead of her momentum, turning faster than she can pull him along. At first it doesn't seem like that's going to be too big of a deal. She can correct for it, fingers releasing their hold, body starting to twist in order to accommodate the changes necessary to land a little earlier than planned.
That's before his foot whips in and throws that correction completely out the window. Crunched hard in the side, she's slammed to the side, landing into a rolling tumble along the ground as a result of the high level of angular momentum in her leap. A punishing hit indeed, and one that's managed to take a lot of the fight out of her by itself, but the girl isn't felled from one solid hit just like that. Whipping up into a crouching position, she resists the temptation to rest her hand against her side. There will be time for considering the results of the exchanged blows later. For now she needs to keep going. This chance isn't be squandered on feeling hurt but rather used to its fullest until either can go no further.
Dust mixes with the white of her previously crisp, clean attire; something she seems to take notice of as she lifts her left hand to brush her blue vest off just a little while weighing how to slip in another attack against the likes of Ryu. Mindful of his ability to contend with more simple, direct attacks with the kind of skill that experience brings, she aims to target angles that may be less commonly utilized. When she springs into motion again, it's because she has a plan. Darting forward, only to kick off early into an angled leap to the side, feet impacting the sturdy trunk of one of the trees not far from Ryu.
Pushing off, she twists back down toward the more experienced fighter into a sharp, right knee-first dive aiming for his shoulder. Should she manage to connect, it will serve as a perch for her for an instant as she brings her other leg in for a swift follow up strike to the opposite side of his head before pushing off into a quick, graceful backflip away. Should she miss, she'll be forced into a short, sliding landing along the ground before coming to a stop.
COMBATSYS: Ryu interrupts Rengeki Shuu from Hotaru with Shoryuken.
[ \\\\\\\ < > //////// ]
Hotaru 1/=======/=======|=======\-------\1 Ryu
If Hotaru had been felled by the last strike, Ryu would be quite abashed indeed. He's judged the other fighter's mettle, at least as accurately as possible. Taking on she and her impressive friend has pushed Ryu impressively, the workout welcome, as is the confirmation of their skill and understanding. And of course, if Futaba fared as well against the nomad without the assistance of Alma, it would be against the entire spirit of the meeting! The Ansatsuken Master seems unlikely to relent in these final moments, and as Hotaru pushes onward, Ryu reaches deep down once more, tapping that impressively deep well for the energy to match her own. The aerial assault is watched, analyzed for the half-instants he has to consider it, and the World Warrior drops low, coiling in around himself in a tight, sudden crouch. The energy about him surges inward, compresses, and suddenly erupts with singular focus. This time, Hotaru does not have the benefit of studying from the sidelines.
The infamous Rising Dragon rises for a second time, carrying Futaba with it as Ryu drives a forceful uppercut directly up into the girl's assault, her descending knee skipping painfully off his skull in the collision, though this does little to deflect the full momentum of the legendary uppercut.
"SHOOORYUKEN!!!" The echoing cry breaks the peaceful nighttime forest once more, focusing the force of that gloved fist into that singular, unbelievably potent yet immensely disciplined singular hit. It's time for Hotaru to shake it off again, it seems... the Wanderer lands in a ready stance, watching and waiting.... almost eagerly.
The thing about making such a committed, leaping attack is that even if you start to reconsider the opponent's last moment preparations against you, there's little you can do but press forward and see it through. This time, put up against one of the most famous defenses against aerial attacks there is, it doesn't go so well for her. The girl's knee connects, but by then her diving attack is being taken apart by the retaliatory force. That same power that struck Alma earlier on is brought to bear on her this time and all downward momentum comes to an immediate stop as a result.
His fist hits her stomach, glances up along her chest, and smacks her in the chin with all the force necessary to send her into a sharp arc up and back away from the young man. Seeing stars, her plummet back to the ground is far from controled as she lands hard on her upper back, the rest of her body crumpling, leaving her sprawled for a moment as a small cloud of dust billows up around the young fighter. On her last trip to the ground, she was quick to whip up to standing again. This time she doesn't seem to have quite that capacity.
One foot draws in a little, her knee rising up, her hands twisting over to push against the floor of the forest as the Kenpo artist struggles to sit up, shaking her head, trying to clear the fog left from one of the hardest hitting single strikes she can remember. Eyes squinting for a moment before opening wider, the traditionalist regains her bearings, shifting her feet beneath her and rising up to standing. Observing the Rising Dragon remotely had been eclipsed by watching it in person, second hand. And watching it second hand? That's now been vastly eclpised by the experience of actually feeling it. The shuddering power of that single punch of such singular intent and coordinated purpose.
Her left arm wipes over her mouth, taking with it any unsightly spittle left by the gasp of pain and surprise. Her Chinese styled vest frayed by the force of the strike, the girl is markedly worse for wear now. But when her eyes come to rest again on Ryu, it is with a quiet smile. Barely standing but feeling so very alive, so aware, she takes in a deep breath only to have it interrupted by a short cough as her diaphragm sorts itself out from the punishing attack.
Standing, however, means she can keep going, can continue to give the best she's got until she can fight no longer. Exhaling, she closes her eyes for an instant, recording this moment, the feelings present, before committing to her next move. Sprinting forward, she pours on all the speed her years of training can muster. It would be easy to miss the first hop, from a few yards out, as she covers another yard in order to land in a low crouch, her entire body winding up for the strikes to come.
It lasts an instant before she continues into a second hop, this one aimed at bringing her into range, her arms swinging, palms targeting Ryu's shoulders and chest. Her feet touch the ground and then she springs into a second such attack, aiming to deliver another windmilling assault. And with that comes the need to judge her opponent and his defense. Should there be any hold, any indication that she's found an opening, her third landing will pave the way for a rising shoulder slam, all of her forward momentum invested in that move to give it the force to take her into a final, air-born spinning kick before she's forced to drop back to the forest floor into a three point crouch.
COMBATSYS: Hotaru successfully hits Ryu with Ten-ren-ge EX.
[ \\\\\\\\ < > //// ]
Hotaru 0/-------/-======|====---\-------\0 Ryu
Once again, Hotaru exceeds expectations in standing her ground, regardless. The tenacity and redoubled effort slips past the Ansatsuken Master's guard this time, a testament to her attack, given that the nomad had ample time to watch, and prepare... waiting as Hotaru recovers her breath from the destructive uppercut. Dark eyes study the other prodigy calmly, thoughtful behind the intensity of the battle. To say there's fight left in Hotaru is a vast understatement, as she proceeds to demonstrate time and again, with her flurry of staggering hits. The first palmstrike looks ready to be intercepted - but Hotaru's aim is true, slipping past the swift, resilient forearm to crack a solid palm-blow into Ryu's ribcage. Barely keeping his breath from the first hit, the flurry that follows is enough to thoroughly unseat his footing, the ball fully in Futaba's court. It's an advantage she exploits well, launching Ryu into the air in return. The Ansatsuken Wanderer can't fully fathom where he is, however, before he's kicked free.
Crashing hard to the ground, Ryu tumbles end over end. rolling up against a tree on the edge of the forest, thumping to rest against it as he pushes up into a crouch, and pants a hard breath that's half of a hearty chuckle, "Good... one." He coughs a bit, and it looks like he might just sit there. Then, the seemingly impossible happens. One gloved hand presses flat to the tree trunk, and Ryu pushes smoothly, if slowly, to his feet, "You can keep this up a lot longer, now. But... just how much further, hmm?" The nomad arches one thick brow and lifts his fists once more, drawing in a deep breath and locking eyes with Hotaru.
The intuitive bond shared by Alma and Hotaru, Ryu would theorize, is perceptible because it exists, because every subtle wave of energy tells a story. It is a similar, and entirely different meditation that now sees the young champion shut out everything else, from the cool refreshing air on his bruises, to the ringing in his head, to the rustle of the wind. He sees only Hotaru, senses only that subtle ebb and flow of her fighting spirit, her well-practiced technique. No, her finisher wasn't enough, Ryu always wants to fight on just a little longer.
He's just greedy.
COMBATSYS: Ryu focuses on his next action.
[ \\\\\\\\ < > ///// ]
Hotaru 0/-------/-======|====---\-------\0 Ryu
Twisting Ryu to the ground through a grapple or clever slam is one thing. That's just how those kinds of holds work - allowing people of smaller mass upset the balance and twist or flip a larger, more experienced opponent to the ground if they get a sure enough hold. To knock him down by sheer force, however... well, that's something that required her to go all out. Even as she lands, she's breathing hard, her crouched position leaving her watching, trying to recover, attempting to evaluate what is coming next. Maybe that'll be a wrap for this exchange. If so, it will not have been a disappointment in the slightest.
As he chuckles, she starts to take that as a sign that it's over. After all, she and Alma both have dished out their fair share of attacks against the veteran fighter. One man can only take so much. Or so she was starting to think as he pulls himself to standing. He's good to keep going. The blink in her eyes betrays her hint of surprise as she pushes down with her fingers, rising up to standing as well. "A little further," she responds, her grin returning. She can do that much.
She's not oblivious to his preparations. Throughout the fight, he has been getting better and better at reading her style. Fluid as it may be, it relies on principles and fundamentals that easily resonate with the world-traveled Ryu. He's bound to get the hang of her techniques, the angles from which she strikes, the angular momentum she invests into some of her strikes or the direct, straight force she utilizes in others.
To continue, she's going to need to approach this from a new direction that she hasn't used yet. She knows she can't bolt in with the same speed from this distance that she'd just used. Surges of that kind of speed don't come that often in a single spar. But he's expecting her to continue, to show what she can do, and the girl is determined to do just that. Her steps forward are slow, controlled, as she closes the gap between them, watching for any preemptive strikes.
It is from a couple yards out that she drops to that crouch again, arms out at her sides, her body perfectly balanced as she forces thoughts of her aching jaw out of her mind. And then she springs, rising up into a spin kick, her right foot whipping out from a few feet too shy to actually connect with the side of the master's head. But she seeks to draw his defense there all the same as she drops down out of that hop, snapping out the real attack as she continues to turn, her right foot sweeping for Ryu's ankles, trying to slip in beneath his guard.
She finishes by following through with that momentum, spinning up out of the low crouch into a snapping kick toward his stomach, attempting to slip in one last hit should his guard have been drawn low to catch the low sweep. "KYA!"
COMBATSYS: Hotaru successfully hits Ryu with En Un Kasou EX.
[ \\\\\\\\ < > /// ]
Hotaru 0/-------/------=|=====--\-------\0 Ryu
A little bit further. It's a mantra that has carried Ryu a long way. He may not have been the youngest champion, may not have been born into any particular ancient order (though really, who the hell knows, right?). But he's worked hard, and he's held to his beliefs, maybe even found a bit more of himself along the way. Push, just a little further. He can do it. His eyes narrow, the attack comes. Despite her fatigue, the girl's martial arts are as strong as when they began, as she slips out of synch with what he's come to expect, and flows fluidly into a anew attack, the leaping feint throwing the nomad's guard off just long enough for the sweep to swipe in cleanly. Dropped to his knees, Ryu lands hard in the grass, eyes snapping back to Hotaru as her foot collides with his ribcage. He grits his teeth, grunting off the added pain, and trying to keep the clarity he had achieved moments before, despite the rather stinging distraction.
The Wanderer's stern features harden with stubborn focus, and he retaliates nigh instantly, leaping straight upwards with the last ounce of his strength flowing into a singular, blurring rotation.
As he rises, his foot snaps outwards, perfectly aligned with Hotaru's face as the nomad rises abruptly, launching a 'miniature' version of the earlier kick, which lacks no focused force despite its simplicity. She's fought hard, earned this... and earned him fighting on till he lands, knelt and exhausted, giving out a hearty, singular laugh, "Well fought indeed." He affirms, otherwise just pausing. .... time to find his breath.
COMBATSYS: Ryu can no longer fight.
[ \\\\\\\\ <
Hotaru 0/-------/------=|
COMBATSYS: Hotaru just-defends Ryu's Senpuu Kyaku!
[ \\\\\\\\\\\ <
Hotaru 0/-------/------=|
Her pacing has come a long ways. Able to last throughout a long match without collapsing in exhaustion; she has Ryo Sakazaki's borderline abusive exercise regimen to thank for that. She's just able to push herself longer and harder now than she was before, attacking with speed capable of slipping in through the guard of Ryu, if but by a fraction of an inch. Her right leg snaps back after the kick, the girl knowing better than to relax her guard now that she's seen just how Ryu is capable of hanging in there.
Her preparation proves to be critical for a timely defense, for that aerial, sweeping kick of his comes in screaming fast. She can't even imagine how fast it'd be had she not managed to deliver those two swift, final strikes. Both hands raise in an instant, a shimmering blue of aura, one last surge of chi brought to life along her forearms. The impact doesn't go un-felt, braced as it may be by that small flicker of potential she's drawn from this special clearing in the woods, but she allows herself to be moved with it, feet leaving the ground intentionally, the girl twisting in mid-air to stop her knock back by landing sideways against a solid tree trunk in a three-point crouch. The shockwave of chi and risidual energy rushes past her in the process, cooling her face, whipping a whirl of leaves into a small flurry before everything settles and she steps down out of the ninety degree angle to end up standing straight up again.
As she lowers her guard, that energy drawn to the surface for her last second defense fading swiftly, some of it drawin within, to strengthen her anew, his words reach her ears. A compliment above all others - to be told she fought well by a man of his calibur. Where her cheeks any less flushed from the constant exhertaion and rush of pain that's beginning to settle in, it'd be possible to detect the faint blush.
Pushing away from the tree to stand upright, her right hand lowers, going to rest against her side as she winces. Her left hand goes to her jaw, rubbing it tenderly before she lowers her arm to her side. "Thank you, Master Ryu. For the spar... and for your words." He's given her a lot to think about, imparting pieces of wisdom gained from his travels and countless battles. Who is she to not take them to heart though? How can she do anything but mediate upon their significance in the quite times ahead?
COMBATSYS: Hotaru has ended the fight here.
tPeace has descended upon the clearing, and with the fading of the mist there is a refreshing clarity to the surroundings, the ethereal cloak supplanted by the faint buzzing of insects and the whisper of the breeze through the thick emerald grass.
Amidst that grass, a young man slumbers still.
He has been unable to watch the fierce and close duel that followed, unable to witness his sister excel so completely. This, perhaps, is a tragedy; yet even if this moments are lost to him, he will not awaken with that sense. No, it is good that the world moves on without him, as it has done. In his absence, he has returned to see all of his friends and allies stronger, wiser, more fulfilled, and their friendships no less strong than before. Such is the case with this now, too-- only Alma, though seemingly left behind, has taken away more than just that.
Perhaps Hotaru will still be here when he awakens; likely Ryu will not. Alma has much to speak with the young woman about; they have a great deal to catch up on, and after this match, much of what is most important and most difficult to say perhaps will not need to be said. But Alma will not forget what the elusive nomad has taught him here-- and when he arises from this darkness and once again into the light, it will be with a reaffirmed resolve and a sense of purpose that, as it once did when he begun, fuels rather than merely sustains.
He will not be satisfied, even if he can be.
He still has so much to learn.
And however crucial it is for one whose heart possesses within it a sea of flame to be able to do so, supressing the darkness is only the first step. There is a shadow cast by his own light. Alma has known this; but the triumph of casting light in the first place, that moment when he arose from that void, was the beginning, he has realized here, and not an end. He has been drawn endlessly to the personifications of those shadows: to Jiro, to K', even to eccentrics like Tran. He has sought always to bring light into the darkness. Yet there is more to his love than the bringing of salvation. It is that sincerity, the more modest facet of his undeniable purity, that puts him on a different level than a zealot like Gabriel. For he is truly /friends/ with Jiro; he does not bring others into his world, accept them into his heart, only so that he may burn away their impurities.
In others, he has indeed accepted darkness.
So committed to lighting up his life, it never occured to Alma that he might need to accept it in his own.
There is still much left unknown.
In the grass, he stirs.
There is still much left undone.
Soon, he will awaken.
And the next time he meets this Ryu, if indeed he is fortunate enough to do so, if their world brings them together again, he will not only be able to speak of what he illuminates, for of that his faith is sure and his mind is certain...
But of what he does not.
Log created on 18:19:49 08/14/2008 by Alma, and last modified on 13:42:35 09/14/2008.