Description: Over a year ago, a meek little girl fled from a frightening monsters lurking in the shadows. It was the beginning between them. A story that has unfolded across War and Hell. Tragedy and Triumph. What is the nature of this bond, this kinship, between Girl and Devil? Their story culminates here at the very place they first met as Hotaru stands before Marise. The truth is finally revealed as their saga concludes.
Life was picture perfect as of late. With all the paper work and proper tax forms filed via her accountants to provide for Kentou Ondori's expensive tuition into Pacific High, her regular bouts in SNF being, regularly speaking, enjoyable challenges, and having had the chance to fight and impress the strongest woman in the world recently, the teenage fighting icon, Hotaru Futaba, has been enjoying just about everything living has to offer her in recent months.
Even though she's busy with summer school classes, trying to make up for time lost while traveling abroad and missing so many classes due to her hectic schedule, she still teaches a few classes at the YFCC during the week as well as Saturdays as her SNF schedule permits. This cooling Wednesday night is no different. But she can't hang around the center too late. She still does have homework after all. And thus it is that the girl makes her way along the street, a fair ways south of the hill where her estate can be found.
Her breaths are still somewhat hurried, having had a good workout alongside the kids she was training. Her hairline damp with a trace of perspiration, she had decided to head straight home, not even changing out of her signiture blue and white fighting outfit. With her school uniform stuffed into the backpack that rests over her shoulders along with her hefty books, the girl's head is slightly bowed, her pace rather quick, thoughts of needing to get her assignments done so that she can make her fight schedule of the week pressing in on the back of her mind.
The nearly-set sun hardly troubles her. Though a teenaged female, her fighting talents put her safely out of being threatened by any street level trash that might seek to do her harm. And those with the prowess of actually taking her on in a fight care not whether they attack her in the dark or during the day, the pragmatic side of her mind had long since come to realize.
She doesn't even consciously realize that her pace has slowed, however, as she draws nearer to a site that marks an encounter she would never forget. Glancing up from her slowing stride, the girl glances to the side, her hand coming up tighten around her backpack strap. A soft exhale escapes her lips before she tears her gaze away in order to focus on the darkening street ahead; street lamps filcker on as the shadows grow longer and the young fighter shakes her head in an attempt to forget the past.
"Meow."
A feline call vies for Hotaru's attention in the cooling urban evening. Followed by a second from a fellow tom cat deeper within the shadowy alleyway. Once upon a time, the girl had religiously fed these particular strays. Leaving food for them in ritual charity. She was a different person then.. or was she?
How different has Hotaru become since she returned from her sojourn abroad? How different from the uncertain little girl who had much in common with these lost runaways? Has it been only a year since then?
It was a lifetime ago. Through wars, kidnappings, torture and brutality uncounted. Her soul has been torn apart and reconstituted so many times, any other 'average' girl would be in an institution. Through it all, through everything and then some.. Hotaru has endured. Endured through hardships uncounted. She's found new friends, new loves. And, for perhaps the first time in memory--happiness.
Intent, feline eyes behold the transformed girl. Since her schedule became far too hectic to regularly tend to these wastrels needs, thankfully a nice local woman had taken care of them in her stead. Even still, the emotion is clear behind the small animal's eyes. Hotaru has been much missed.
Animals have always been kin to her. Only once have they struck out at her.. But it was not that creature's fault. They've given her counsel and succor when all of humanity seemed to abandon her. They have always been there for her.
And they never fail to give her warning.
A sharp hiss escapes the cat's lips unbidden. Back arching with fur bristling in instant panic. A half-second later and the creature takes off into the shadows, racing as fast as its little feet can take it. The only sound in its wake that of a clattering garbage pail.. And..
"Alms.." A decrepit, old voice carries across the stagnant village air.
A figure so silent, the girl would not have noticed. In her defense, its hard to distinguish this creature from a person and a pile of trash. Regrettably, Southtown is a town of hard luck with its share of vagrants. Even in nice streets such as these.
"...Alms.." The harridan's voice croaks from beneath rags. Her face hidden beneath an old wide-brimmed bonnet, long-since fallen into decay. Her skeletal fingers half-curled, palm upwards. Seated in a heap weakly against the cool brick wall.
The young marital artist comes to a stop at the pitious cry of the stray animal. It's enough to make her forget the more harrowing experience she had at this very location a year or more ago. "Hey," she speaks up into the darkness, her tone sheepish, apologetic. In a year's time she had become a celebrity, a teacher, a busy student, a champion, a league leader. Care free jaunts through the quiet neighborhood were few and far between.
She draws one hand up, slipping free from her backpack strap to nudge one of her pig-tails back over her shoulder. "You been all right?" She had only made one other pass through the alley after that encounter long ago, and it was during the day at that. One trip to see that the alleyway's residence yet lived. The devilish woman had said she had let them be, but she had to know for certain. She releases a quiet sigh, glancing up along the empty street. Blue eyes gaze into the distance, lacking focus, her mind recalling so many of the infinite number of events that had gotten her to where she was now. The people she met, the friends made, the challenges faced and defeated.
The distressed noise from the cat snaps her out of her reverie, however, Hotaru glancing towrad the cat as it vanishes into the darkness of the alley. Her brow furrowed, her hand goes back to her backpack strap as she readies to move on. No sense in lingering-
A voice carries easily on the night air, in spite its low, tired nature. How did she not notice? Hotaru wonders at first, where she came from. The old begger woman doesn't seem a menace. Perhaps she and that cat have exchanged unpleasant words at some point. Maybe it's personal between them. The girl shakes her head, naively brushing aside the warning offered, hand reaching behind her back to snap open a small side pocket on her backpack. A number of coins and a bill are drawn forth between nimble fingers as she prepared to continue on her way.
"Here you go," the well meaning child speaks up, extending her hand to deposit the money in the outstretched palm. At least it's not a cold night, she muses to herself, only to wonder at the chill that passes over her in the same instant she considers it.
The crone would seem inoffensive enough, if visibly unclean. A slight waiver in her upheld hand suggests what little strength the old woman has left to her. Her head still bowed meekly, ancient floral bonnet hiding all as her ragged, grey tresses spill over her shawl-covered shoulders. Perhaps not expecting any genuine kindness to be offered here, as so many have passed by before.
The clink of cold coin comes as something of a surprise, rousing the harridan from her stupor. Spider-like fingers seem interested in more than the offering as they immediately enclose around the child's warm hand.
Such cold fingers.. Perhaps it comes with age?
"..Aaahh.. Sssuch a kind.. young thing.. kyeh heh.." The wizened voice speaks up, "..Ssssoo few would help ssuuch an old.. oooold miserable thing.. Kyeh heh.." Rueful laughter sounding more like a weak cough than genuine delight.
Ignoring the coins within her gasp, the bone-white hand turns Hotaru's hand over.. palm upwards. Perhaps for hidden eyes to inspect the girl's smooth, youthful palm in order to foretell her future.
"My my... Sssuch ssstrong handsss.." The harridan lisps, "Oooh!" The bonnet tilts, "You mussst be.. Futaba Ho..Hotaruu.. Kyeh heh.. Yess.." Moth-eaten shawl quivering in delight. The crone's opposite hand rises above the first, hovering over the young girl's own. The tip of her translucent gray nail tracing over the lines at the junction of thumb and palm, "My my.. Yesss.. A cha.m.p.ion... Yess.. Sooo beautiful.. Sssoooo powerful.. Yess.. We know the truth.. Yess we do.. Yess we do.." The ancient titters in borderline madness.
There is something.. Unclean about the old creature. Something beyond being filthy or covered in rags. Her tone.. Like an old poison that hasn't lost its toxicity.
"Fooled they are.. Yess. Fooled they all are.. But not me.. Noooot meee.. No noo... Kyeh heh.."
The grip on her hand catches her by surprise. So swift, those bony fingers are to take hold of her. Instinct suggests to recoil, her aversion to dirt or uncleanliness kicking in within an instant. There may even be a gentle tug after a moment, testing the hold the crone has on her forearm, but she doesn't go so far as to use her strength to pull away. "Think nothing of it," she urges gently at the initial compliment paid to her apparent kindness.
As the seconds tick, however, she begins to feel more uneasy at the proximity, wishing to part ways with the vagrant and be on her way. Her hand is turned over, the young, strong fighter doing nothing to prevent her, struggling against her desire to gain distance quickly. The hat tips slightly, and for a moment she wonders if she might see a face, only to realize that she would rather not.
Swallowing, she gasps suddenly as her name is uttered by those aged, dry lips. "How did-" she starts to ask, only to fall quiet as her palm is traced upon by that filthy nail. "Please," she speaks up, "I really must get going. I'm sorry that I cannot do any more for you." She tugs on her hand again, careful not to pull with all her strength, lest she injure the poor woman. Unpleasant as her company may be, she doesn't deserve /that/.
She becomes increasingly worried as the prattled words make no sense to her. A glance up and down the street, as if seeking the company of another resident for comfort's sake leaves her disappointed to find no one. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about," the young fighter continues, her tone urgent as she brings her own hand up to rest atop the woman's, intending to carefully pry her captured wrist free.
The harridan releases the captured hand with some reluctance but her chittering voice pauses not at all, "Yess.. Yess.. The truth.. Mine eyesss seee it true.. yess."
Withered hand recoiling within the rags as the crumbly voice urges, "... They've all forgotten now.. All forgiven.. Aaaaall worriess sssilenced." Her voice picking up, perhaps expecting the girl to hurry on her way now. Shadow-cloaked head tilting towards her no matter where she goes, "... No one ssssuspectss.. No one knowsss. No one realizesss..."
The voice drops several degrees and the temperature of the night drops right along with it. The lisp gone, replaced now by a smooth, deeply feminine tone.
"You have touched the abyss with that hand." The seated figure shifts in the shadows, the silhouette warping into unnatural contours as it fills out. "I know.. Oooooh I know. Once you hold such power.. You can -never- go back."
The darkness rises. Rags growing upwards smoothly like something organic. Shrouding the harrowing figure that becomes far taller than the tiny, ruinous symmetry of an ancient crone would suggest. The voice carries oddly across the distance between them now. A cadence that seems to corrupt the very atmosphere it trespasses, warping into a strangely hollow tone. A familiar tone that only one creature that walks this Earth could ever make.
"You may have fooled those children and your countless admirers.." The bonnet tilts back. The darkness betrays a glint of pearlescent fang.. And a pair of golden eyes. Slitted black as something inhuman. "..But you can never fool me." The configuration of teeth arrange in a fashion that suggests a grin. A knowing one.
Moments after, the rags rolls from her frame. Filth shucked from her ebon-clad body like freshly turned Earth from a newly risen corpse. Stepping from the old woman's body like a fatal cancer, blossoming into her full twisted glory. Coldly beautiful as ever.. One would never suspect she was dead.
Assuming this monster was ever truly alive.
Her hand freed, Hotaru doesn't immediately bolt, as much as instinct suggests to her that it would be wise. Her left hand comes up to rub at the wrist that was gripped, as if trying to assuage some lingering discomfort in the prolonged contact with the old woman. Her heart begins to beat faster as she speaks of things forgotten, things burried that she knows while no one else does. "What do you mean," the young marital artist ask back, surprised at herself that she's even taking such insane mutterings seriously enough to try and make sense of them. She should be friendly but curt, and slip away rather than indulge this any further. This is insane.
But she lingers still, waiting... until it is too late. Too late to disappear into the evening, curious as to the nature of the encounter, but never knowing anything more of it. Too late to be spared the knowledge that comes as that voice dips lower, taking the temperature with it, on a journey toward that abyss of which she speaks. The girl glances toward her right hand. The hand that wielded that unholy power, drew strength from the gates of hell, and with each use, scarred the world forever. What does she know of it?
And then it shatters, the illusion crumbling like the hard packed dust of a disturbed tomb. The girl takes a step back, hands drawn up, a defense reflex. But the attack to come isn't physical. If she didn't think the fiend dead, it would have come to her quicker. The thought that it might be is dismissed at first. K' told her she was dead. But as that familiar, haunting, unforgettable voice speaks up again, she is forced to acknowledge that undeniable truth. If she truly did die, then she cannot be killed, for here she stands.
Her complexion pales visibly even in the dim light. Those eyes, the fangs, the image from the past returned. Another step backward is taken, the smaller fighter looking up into the face of that which she should not be seeing. "You... you were dead. They told me." she stammers, sapphire blue eyes widened. A sickening sensation fills her gut, a vile mixture of fear and dread paralyzing her in place.
The last encounter comes back to her mind. The words spoken in the secrecy of that locker room. The agreements... the plea for help in controlling it; the Satsujinken. Does she not know, then? That the forbidden technique has been sworn off? A search of the Devil's face as Hotaru glances furtively back toward her suggests that no... no she does not yet know.
"I didn't expect to see you again," she murmurs, her voice a little less shakey as she struggles to pull herself together.
The bonnet is cast asside in a casual motion. The ragged thing left to half-settle on an adjacent trash can, its disguising shade no longer required for this little ruse.
A smirk briefly plays over Marise's violet-painted lips. A short-lived amusement at her most recent circumstances. The shock in Hotaru's eyes is unmistakable.
While Marise had not known for certain the girl was told of her demise, she had figured it would be a fair bet she'd find out sooner or later. Who told her? She wonders. Perhaps one of those insipid children? Rugal's traitorous spawn? The Jinzoningen or the Russian animal? Word would get out, Marise knew. That was, indeed, the point of it. But she finds herself wondering who it could have been that had the pleasure of giving the girl such 'glad' news.
"Death and I are old friends." The devil muses as she saunters from the cast-off disguise's heap, "You should know better than anyone, child. Greater warriors than those Gedo children have tried to end me." Approaching the shorter girl with a calm menace, "It serves my purpose to allow them the smug satisfaction of thinking I am gone. Their smiles will be erased soon enough."
It takes a considerable amount of willpower to keep her tone even. What loathing she possesses for the spawn of the Demon Hunters will have to wait. A far more important matter is at hand.
Once Marise closes to a more conversationally friendly distance, does she effect a proud smile. Fingers lacing together as she leans forth to eye level. Her eyes never reflecting the mirth those lips suggest, "Regardless of that unpleasant affair.. We still have business, you and I. I must admit.. I am proud of you. Yes.." Reaching forth a hand as she attempts to touch the younger girl's cheek.
"You've done a wonderful performance. Making them think you've given up on Kogaryu's teachings. It was a wise decision.. As many were beginning to realize the truth about you. I can only imagine how much.." Golden eyes sliding down to Hotaru's fist, "..How very much you crave to use that power again. Yesss.. It is time girl. I have fully recovered and we can begin anew!" Her smile widening, expression eager, "You've taken the first step. But there are many more lessons for you.. True power is almost at your beck and call.."
Of course, she should have known better than to hope the creature dead. That wouldn't have been the first time the world tried to be rid of her presence. And it almost definitely wouldn't be the last. The girl takes in those words, the Devil smug in her rouse. Everyone has relaxed, released a sigh of relief. The monster is dead, the world can be at ease. Yet here she stands before the young fighter, as horrifying as ever. "Of course," she murmurs back as Marise softly admonishes her lack of faith in the undying creature's tenacity.
But then she speaks of /that/ business. Hotaru knew it would come up the moment she saw the woman. As she leans forward, the girl holds her ground, frozen in place, not by courage but rather fright. Trying to remember everything that transpired in secret when last they met... while simultanously trying to forget it ever happened, her face is a mixture of emotions. That hand rests at her cheek and still the girl doesn't move.
"It isn't a performance," she protests quietly as she shakes her head ever so slightly. "I-..." Her left hand reaches over, clutching at her right hand. Memories of those dark months. The doubt, the way she couldn't look others in the eye, or even look in a mirror, the image looking back at her too foreign to comprehend. But even as she speaks of craving to use it again, there is that temptation.
She hasn't forgotten the power it gave her. In fights she was a horror, landing comeback victories from impossible odds once she drew upon it. Felling incredible fighters, sometimes with two savage, decisive blows. It /was/ power. And it was hers to master. And it worked.
She closes her eyes, turning her face away from that caressing touch, left hand clamped tightly over her right arm as she recalls the burning, the searing, the savage pain that technique had left in her arm. It was killing her back then. But Marise was going to teach her how to control it. To wield it without ruining herself... at least, not ruining herself in /that/ way.
"I..." The string of easy victories flash through her mind, the emptiness that followed forgotten now. But then there is another image that stops her short. The face of a boy, caught in a mask of horror at what she was doing. "... I can't-.... I won't use it again." the girl declares, tensing up, hand coming up to brush Marise's hand aside. "I don't want what you wish to teach me. Those days are behind me now."
So certain.
Not even the slightest hint of doubt is in the Devil's knowing face. As terror holds the girl steady, the creature watches Hotaru's eyes faulter. Yes, of course. She'll try to deny it, Marise knows. Even with the truth so blatantly revealed to her, Hotaru clings to her old ways. Her old life. The life where smaller people forced her to be small. The Devil allows for that hesitation. She can afford to be understanding now, whatever makes the transition easier for the girl. The hand on the Kenpo Sensei's cheek a gentle gesture of benediction. Marise's wordless croon letting her know that it will be alright.
"There there.." Marise offers as Hotaru hesitates about admitting to the 'performance', "Really now.. Just let go. Just let it all go.." Her words, voice ever shrouded in an ominously echoing cadence, "..You know how truly powerful you have become. You've seen it. You've -felt- it. You can be even more.. Just let me show you the rest. Let me show you how to become great enough so none will ever question you again.. Just-"
Hotaru's declared words slap Marise in the face. The Devil recoils, sincerely startled by the vehemence behind that denial. Her hand brushed asside and held aloft, fingers outstretched with uncertainty.
For long, uncomfortable moments.. Silence reigns. Usually, silence is the Devil's ally. It follows in her wake and is often all that remains in the aftermath of her fel deeds. For once, this silence is something Marise did not intend. Monstrous eyes reflecting a very human expression of disbelief. Shock. Lips hanging open, parted yet wordless.
The girl -meant- it. Marise prides herself so often in seeing truth where others do not.. And for once that boon proves to be a curse. The Devil cannot mistake the look in Hotaru's eyes, the conviction she finds within her words.
"..T..Thats not.." Her aloft hand slowly curling into a weak fist, ".. That is not possible." The creature sternly asserts. It is her turn to compose herself, as she tries this again, "Think about this girl. Think.. About what I am offering you.."
Taking another step closer, once again bowing forth to look the girl dead in the eye. Her hands reaching forth to settle upon her shoulders, so there can be no turning away from this, "Everything you've ever wanted. Your whole life all you've wanted is -respect-. Admiration. From your family. From your friends. You -had- that. I GAVE it to you. I am STILL giving it to you. Don't be a fool, Hotaru. Don't let the words of worthless, trivial people blind you from what you TRULY want."
Hands tightening, "This is your only chance, Hotaru. Without this, you will fade away and be forgotten. -Again-. Is that what you want?"
The memories of her time spent using that power are clouded as the woman continues to speak. She remembers the horrifying pain, the look of dread in the faces of her opponents unfortunate enough to fall prey to the attack. She remembers too the victories, the easy wins, the triumphs from behind unexpected odds. All those really did happen, but her thoughts on them are as murky as her very conscience was during those darker months. Her rejection invites silence into reign over the two, the girl avoiding Marise's eyes, staring to the side at the ground after brushing away her hand.
How can it even be there, she wonders, that temptation to listen to what she has to say. How can she not be revulsed into fleeing immediately? Can it still be that she wishes to take her up on her offer? Her heart says know, but that lingering voice in her mind speaks otherwise. Maybe she can just go with her, see what she has to offer... maybe she can learn a little bit. She's always been open to instruction from others. It's how she's grown. Taking bits and pieces from those with more experience than her and incorporating them into her style, into her life. Surely she's strong enough to walk the path just a short while. Staying close to Marise means being in a position to stop her if something comes up. This, and other rationalizations fill the confused girl's mind as those hands come down to rest on her shoulders.
Her face is lifted, eyes focusing on those dreadful, unnatural yellow irises. She did want respect. She wanted her father to bless her efforts, her brother merely to regard her existence. Marise could help her with that. That power... surely Gato would have been impressed if she demonstrated that technique- No, no. "You gave me a weapon... a tool. But its purpose was not my own. I had never rendered such harm to anyone before. Not like that." the girl replies, her words steady, slow, deliberate.
Those hands tighten on her shoulder as Marise reminds her that this is HER chance, her moment, but that the opportunity is fleeting. "I-I... almost killed someone. That isn't what I wanted. That isn't me." Her mouth trembles, her mind trying to weigh her rationalizations, the reasons why she shouldn't avoid an opportunity like this. But there's another thought that slips in as well. Hayato praising her on her victory in claiming the belt, without touching that technique. The fights she's had since, the successes, the close matches, the way she feels after them - renewed, invigorated, inspired. The anger is gone, the young fighter having found an inner peace many adults struggle to find all their lives. A purpose, a place in the world.
"Someday, everyone is forgotten," she whispers, eyes still fixed on Marise's. "In the end... how many do you think spoke your name when they thought you dead? Who mourned your passing? Who cared at all but for simple, quiet rejoicing? What kind of legacy is that?!" comes the raised voice. "To be remembered a monster and left for dead by the entire world hoping for your demise? If my life is to be a trivial one, then at least I can live so that those I helped may speak fondly of me when I am gone!" Her voice has become a hiss as her courage seems to build, her resolution strengthening.
"You promise me a life of being reviled... hated... I would rather fade away at peace with myself than die like you did... like you /should/ have..."
"Don't be naive!"
Marise's sharp shriek cuts into the girl's growing defiance. For long moments the Devil stared through Hotaru's eyes with utmost intent. There was conflict there, she could see. A surprising amount of resistance, but Marise could see Hotaru beginning to come around. Certainly, all manner of rationalizations must be pouring through her thoughts. Its how everyone works. The mind has a way of coating the truth in sweet lies to make it palatable. Any and all rationalizations that Hotaru would use, Marise would accept happily.
All the girl needs is more power, that's all she needs to be fully convinced and convicted towards this path.
Until.. Its laid out plainly. The moment that jarred the girl from the path. The refusal to take a life.
Memories poured into Marise's mind unbidden. Memories of being in that dark room. The knife in her hand. Her young kin dead around her. She killed them all so that she could live and grow in power. She was only seven. She didn't cry then.. She didn't cry then.. She didn't..
The hands on Hotaru's shoulders began to tremble. The Devil's look hardened then, for once glib words did not come so easily to her lips. And then, Hotaru continues.
The cutting remarks drove home. Marise's eyes widened as while hands slowly released the girl's shoulders. Had the Devil color left in her pallid corpus, it would be flushed to her skin. Those words unimaginably painful to the Devil in ways she cannot even admit.
The creature trembles now, her composure fracturing and splintering little by little. Like a spider-web of cracks spreading over glass, the Devil's resolve weakens little by little. A gesture that borders upon the desperate, Marise's hands reach forth again. This time attempting to -grab- the girl by the lapels of her fighting uniform. Hoisting her up a fraction as her words rush forth like a dam of rage breaking, "EVERYONE IS A MONSTER. Don't you get it?! Don't you see it by now?! We are ALL the same! I SHOWED YOU. What they DID to me! MY FAMILY. What they do to each-other EVERY DAY. All of HUMANITY only deserves revulsion and hatred! Do NOT think yourself -better-! NO ONE IS! EVERYONE is damned, ONE AND ALL! We can show them. We can show them ALL! They'll remember me.. THEY WILL REMEMBER ME. For a THOUSAND years they will all remember me as the only monster who would ADMIT IT. I will BRING THIS WORLD TO THE GROUND and they will have NO CHOICE but to ADMIT they were WRONG! You'll see! YOU'LL SEE! When the world burns to ASH and they fall upon each other as wolves YOU WILL SEE!!"
Spittle flying from her lips, eyes glaring with crazed mania. If she was not roaring with outrage and anger.. she would be sobbing hysterically.
Doesn't she see? The one person in all the world.. Marise was so certain Hotaru would see the truth as she saw it. Just like she did when she as young. So very young. All she had to do was kill and see. Why couldn't she do that one thing? That one little thing? Marise did.. Why couldn't she?
Those words, unusually vicious for the normally even tempered girl, echo in the darkness. She stated them without reservation, nothing held back. Forcing her way through those doubts, those rationalizations by the sheer power of her hatred for that woman. The things she had done to her and her friends, the way she had manipulated her, the way she had tormented so many others, the way she had murdered and would do so again. The woman existed as the antithesis to everything the girl believed about the world and the people that inhabited it. It was if all the wrongs of humanity, all those things she wished weren't true about the world's inhabitants, were concentrated, condensed into this creature in front of her. It's okay to hate her. It's all she deserves, reaping what she has sown. It's the sum total result of the life she has lived. She needn't hold back, needn't practice that practiced tact or calm composure struggling against righteous indignation. She lashes out, each of her words meant to sting, to hurt.
And it seems they had their intended effects as Marise draws back, her hands trembling then slipping free at last. The girl stares back at her, her expression cold, defiant. She's not scared now. She has found a different power over the woman. Not one of force, chi, hellish techniques. One of words, ideals, cold, brutal truth. She holds her ground then, not even flinching as Marise's hands, capable of rending so much pain upon the flesh of her victims, take hold of her vestment and hoist her up slightly, her toes still touching the ground but her weight held by her grasped top.
But when that rage breaks past whatever final restraints kept it at bay, her eyes widen, mouth opening, her right hand coming up to grip against Marise's clutching arm, tightening a hold as if ready to pry her way free. But she doesn't budge, not at first. She reminds her of the horrific things she's shown her. The murdered village in the heart of the mountain, the slaughter of all her kin, with her left for dead. Everyone is a monster, she declares for fact and Hotaru is silent.
Frantic, rapidly spewed words, the woman is coming apart before her eyes, and all she can do is stare back, mouth closed, lips thin as she maintains a neutral expression. At last the girl pulls herself free, applying whatever strength her arms can bring to bear to wrest herself away from the woman. Stumbling to the side a few steps, she turns to face her, her brow furrowed, her mouth curled into a frown. Slowly she exhales, her hand coming up to rest at her forehead as she bows her face toward the ground. The vehemenance is giving her a headache, but there also is her own hatred toward the creature, the girl starting to regret having said what she said.
It may be a rare soul that could possibly pity the Devil of Koga, but in that moment, Hotaru Futaba regrets what she said. Painfully, brutally true, but she regrets it all the same. Slowly, she looks up, blue eyes falling to rest on her foe, the woman that tried to lead her, ever so carefully, down the path to oblivion. "No. I won't see." she states firmly. "Where you see monsters, I see my friends, the people that matter to me, the people that believe me, trust me. Where you see humanity deserving to be reviled, I see people making mistakes, falling, then picking themselves up, and trying again."
She glances to the side as her voice begins to tremble, "There are people that are every bit the monsters you accuse them of being. I have seen them... I have been hurt by them... But not everyone," she continues, snapping back toward Marise, her tone becoming stronger, "Not everyone is like that. At one time I was lulled into seeing only the one side and not the other. But not anymore." The girl frowns, realizing that in this moment, she pities the creature. To live yet not really live, to exist in a continuous state of reviling all of life around her. How miserable the craven thing must be. If only the rumors had been true. If only she had died.
In the end, it's all Marise has left. This hatred. She has nothing left to live for.
As enraged as the Devil has become, she does not strike out at Hotaru. Even as the girl frees herself in a strong motion, the ghoul only throws her arms to her sides in burning frustration. Her scheming, everything she had tried to accomplish with this young girl has fallen apart. Undone just when Marise had thought her victory was all but certain.
What had she hoped to accomplish? Its obvious now. This young girl .. She looked so much like her, when she was young. So alike. Incredible talent. Great beauty. So much like..
...After everything she put the girl through. After forcing her to make all the same decisions she had made.. She thought Hotaru would come to her way of thinking. At the Court of Judgement she hit a setback, yes. The girl had resisted then.. True. But then.. She used the Murderous Fist technique she had been given. If she would not listen to words.. She acknowledged the power in her hands. No one can throw away such power once it is theirs. Marise did not.. could not.
But now.. The girl is resolved. Committed to her path. One that spurns the teachings of the Koga. While Marise would not admit it.. That is the reason for the desperation in her voice. The need in her raging words and barked philosophies.
She wants someone to understand. Kinship. If Hotaru could become the monster that Marise is.. Then Marise would not be alone any more.
As incredulous as she is, as outraged as she is.. The Devil now knows she miscalculated. Hotaru is not the person she thought the girl could be. Instead.. Hotaru is now everything Marise could have been.. If she had been as strong when put to those same choices long ago. As the girl stands tall, it reveals Marise for what she really is. The aura of menace and fear she uses to shroud herself peeling away layer by layer.
Marise is just a pathetic woman who's completely lost to anger and grief, who exists now only to inflict them upon others.
At Hotaru's words of finality, Marise tries to scream several retorts all at once.. Effecting instead a warbling cry of utter betrayal. Half her wants to wring that girl's little throat and crush her neck with her bare hands. The other half wants to grab the hem of her vestment and -beg- her to reconsider. Caught amid a dozen conflicting emotions, the Devil is transfixed in wordless, impotent rage.
After long moments of raving and snarling half-choked meaningless words, Marise whirls about. Stalking off in random directions as her mad tantrum plays itself out, only barely clinging to what could generously be considered 'composure'. Terminating the tirade with a hard -crack-, slamming her forehead to the wooden corner of a nearby building at the junction of the alleyway.. She manages to silence her outrage. Instead, breathing audibly and hard with her clawed fingers pressed to the wall, digging into the painted frame.
"FINE THEN." Marise manages to rasp, "So be it.. So be it.." Repeating to herself. Not bothering to turn and look back to the girl anymore, "..You'll be just like the rest of them.. Just another one of THEM.." The last word spoken with such venom.. such absolute contempt.
She can only wonder at the dark thing's interest in her. She can only wonder why, of all the people in the world, the Devil of Koga singled her out to pass along her murderous techniques, her legacy of misery? Even as she stares at the frustrate woman, her mind races, trying to explain the unexplainable: why her? Of all the people on Earth? Had she come across /that/ susceptible last year? That malleable? That open to the temptations of power even if it risks her eternal soul?
Pushed to the edge, she had turned back the instant she saw what lay on the other side. She wouldn't take that last step. She couldn't. That she came so close to taking that boy's life was just the shock she needed to break free. To recoil in horror at what she almost did, what she /had/ done. That revulsion keeps her resolve strong, her will, while shaken, not broken.
The sound that comes from her throat, a cacophany of screeching, mangled retorts, causes Hotaru to cringe, almost to the point of covering her ears. But she can't. She has to hear it all. Witness the effect her refusal is having and marvel at its potency. Blue eyes, perceptive, observant, can see so many emotions written in the visage of that horrid monster of Japan's past. A left over relic of a darker time. Out of place, alone, feared and reviled in this modern day. She seeks vengeance though those who doomed her clan may very well be dead by now. She seeks to create a legend that will never be forgotten - but all alone in the world, how can she possibly accomplish such a feat?
Hotaru watches her pace, her mouth opens in silent gasp as the woman smacks her head against the building. The contempt... the rejection in her voice has a greater effect on Hotaru than the young martial artist would have expected. Is being considered the same as everyne else that painful? To not be special. To not be regarded as different from the rest of the world that the woman despises? Hotaru's hand comes to rest over her heart as she takes a step forward, her other hand extended, fingers outstretched as she comes so close to asking for forgiveness from that which should not even be given the dignity t /offer/ the chance to forgive. The girl stops herself, her hand lowering, fingers clenching into a small fist, as at last the questions that burn in her confused mind force their way to the surface.
"Why me?!" she snaps, a hint of ire in her tone. "Why did you single me out? The world is full of people who would crave the horrible things you promise them. The real monsters, the ones you accuse us all of being... why did you pick me?!" Her breaths come harder now, the girl panting slightly after her outburst, biting back so many more words that wish to be uttered. "... I /am/ just like them... like everyone else... that's who and what I am... and I am not ashamed..." she states, her voice dropping to a soft whisper compared to her stronger words.
That.. This creature cannot even begin to understand. Why anyone would want to be just like others.. When one could be so much more.
It is all the Devil can do to keep from tearing into the girl in berserk outrage. Somehow managing to hold back her wrath as her brow remains pressed to the cold wall. Clutching fingernails sliding downwards to the tune of sheering stone, leaving small marks in their wake. Her bare shoulders rising and falling, containing herself only by a fraction as she greets the girl's demand with silence.
For long, uncomfortable moments it would seem the Devil is ignoring the girl now. Or, perhaps, desperately trying to. The girl's betrayal is complete, after all. She need not waste another word upon her, at the very least. Usually, this level of insubordination would be met with immediate destruction. One does not casually refuse the Koga once they have brought one into the fold.
There is the small detail that Marise, for all her cruelty and bluster, cannot defeat the girl in combat. The girl is in her prime. The Devil is a mere fragment of her former power. This requires a measure of rationality that the creature does not quite possess at the moment, however.
No, in truth, her inner conflict is too strong. Her emotions a riot of conflicting urges. As much as the Court of Judgement had changed Hotaru.. It too left its mark on Marise. One the Devil tries so very hard to keep suppressed. Pain, such as this, feels far more keen than the creature is easily capable of coping. The source of it, even she cannot comprehend. Why SHOULD it mean so much to her? Just another traitor.. One of the countless..
Abruptly, the creature whirls about. Pressing her back to the wall now, the back of her head thumping soundly against the unyielding stone as her inhuman eyes stare down the length of her nose towards the girl. Palms flat against the wall behind her. Lips contorted in an anguished frown, trembling.
"I was ashamed.." The Devil manages out. No tears stream from those evil eyes. They ran dry long, long ago, "..I was ashamed.." She repeats softly, nodding in slow confirmation.
Why does she continue to talk? No breath need to wasted for this girl anymore, now beyond her reach. Perhaps something about the young woman's desperate confusion dredges forth kindness from her black-heart. Or, perhaps more likely, Marise lashes out with the most painful weapon she has left in her arsenal. The truth.
"Why you.." The creature breathes. Chest heaving as she pushes from the wall. Rising again to her full height, only composed by a fraction, "Why you? .. You have not understood it by now? After all this time.. After a whole year? After it all... You don't know? You must.."
The woman stalks closer. A shambling pace befitting a corpse, "I picked you.. I picked you because you ARE special. You're something more.. You must remember.. Don't you recall what I said to you.. all those months ago?"
The creature walks right to the girl's face. Leaning down abruptly to get eye to eye. A hand lifting to pull aside Marise's locks, so often obscuring her features behind their shadowy veil. "Look at me. I SAID LOOK." Repeating the command, letting the girl get a perfect view of the creature's face.
Without the distance under the moonlight or those ghostly bangs, once again a long-remembered detail returns to light. Marise has always, and still does, look so much like Hotaru's mother. The features are hard to mistake so close. The connotations of this have always been.. Disturbing.
"..You could have been mine. We are alike. I WAS YOU." She barks, shouting at point blank, "You are my mirror. My reincarnation I somehow lived long enough to see. You have all the power and grace that I had. I was as weak as you. I wished I was STRONGER.. As you did."
Her hand falls away, allowing that darkness to cascade over her face once again, "..I was given the choices that I gave to you. Do you know the difference.. Between us? The -one- difference?"
Inching a fraction closer. So close her chillin
chilling breath touches the girl's cheek, "..I sacrificed what I loved most. As you -failed- to."
The two of them left the Court of Judgement together. Neither left it unchanged. Hotaru left with a greater self awarness and the knowledge that she needed in order to stablize the imbalance in chi flowing through her when she drew upon it in combat. Marise left with a part of that soul she hungered for all those months. One was strengthed, the other, weakened from her cause, even if in one sense she was likewise strengthed... just not in the way she would have liked.
Standing here now though, there is perhaps no comparison. Shedding her use of the Satsujinken, the girl went on place well in fight after fight. Climbing charts, securing the belt for her bracket in the SNF, and garnering the attention of some of the greatest fighters around the world, including Chun-Li, a woman the girl respects greatly. Marise, on the other hand, has stayed in the shadows - out of sight, out of mind. Plotting, scheming, but not growing. Not like the young fighter behind her. To attack the girl directly may very well be a foolish move by now, as if in shedding one shortcut to power she found her own truth path to gaining that capability she wanted so bad.
Marise whirls to face her and Hotaru stares silently, her question already posed with clearly no need to repeat it. She speaks of shame and the girl blinks, mouth curling faintly into a frown of surprise. To hear such an admission wasn't the response she had anticipated. Though, truthfully, she doesn't know what to expect. Marise stands, rising, standing tall for a native of the island nation on which they now stand, and Hotaru continues to regard her silently as she approaches, speaking about how she /is/ special... not just like the common other.
Eye to eye they stare, blue irises facing those yellow, unnatural irises. The girl begins to recoil then at such proximity. Gazing into that face as she pulls aside the ebony locks. She doesn't want to see. She already remembers that visage from months ago... she needn't see it again. That similarity that shouldn't be. Directed to look, she hesitates then looks directly once more, into the face she knows so well from her childhood memories.
That voice, raised to shouting directly into the girl's face, provokes a flinch as the twin-tailed Kenposita takes a step back. Her right hand comes up to rest at the back of her head, running through her hair before her fingers clench into her hair. "No," she snaps back at first. "It's just an illusion. A trick," she insists, even though she finds it hard to convince herself of that. "We're not alike, not at all," she continues, taking a step back, her hand dropping down to be in front of her, raised, palm forward, as if warding off the evil idea.
She whirls to the side, twisting her view from the woman with a frown, eyes staring, unseeing, moving rapidly as she sorts through all the evidence in her mind. It makes sense... she was able to learn... no, /master/ the Satsujinken before shedding use of it forever. The woman's facination with her far more than just eager curiosity. Her complexion pales in the evening's dim, the girl whispering softly, "...no."
She shakes her head, closing her eyes for a moment. "I don't understand it. How can it be... I was never going to be a killer." she states, convincing herself, trying to forget JUST how close she came... "I-... I never could have been what you were." She snaps back, facing Marise directly, "I never could have been you. I never had the monsters to raise me, to force me into a room to kill my siblings, my classmates." She waves her hand out to the side, "A society of murder, of secrecy that you were raised in..." She frowns slowly, lowering her hand.
"Maybe the reverse is the real truth. You could have been me. Could have enjoyed friendships, associations with others, students that respect you rather than fear you... You could have been me, but you're not... That is the real tragedy."
And there it is.
The truth that Marise could not bring herself to see. Did not want to acknowledge. Desperately tried not to hear.
The Devil tried to convince Hotaru for so long that her way was the only way. That to embrace the evil path was the only option for either of them. That if it was true for Hotaru.. Then it was true for Marise as well. That Marise had no option. No other path. What she did then was right and just.
The sliver of Hotaru's spirit she received.. At first a triumphant trophy for her.. Turned out to be a terrible burden. It gave her a glimpse of the first human sensation she's felt since long ago. The sensation of doubt. The feeling that what she's doing... May be wrong. That she was wrong then, and she may be wrong now.
For a murderer, there can be no greater torture than to begin to feel remorse for the first time.
It took her weeks. Weeks of meditation. Of self-imposed exile to quiet those feelings. To regain control of herself and return to a semblance of the wicked clarity she possessed before. To remind herself of the rightness of her cause. The justification for her vengeance upon all those who yet walk the Earth while her family rots in Hell. She thought she had put Hotaru behind her then..
..Until Hotaru fell anyway. Or Marise -thought- she did. The girl was not supposed to do this. She was supposed to crave power above all. Not.. This.
And now, the scheme is laid bare. Marise tried so very hard to make Hotaru fall... Because if the girl did, as Marise did so very long ago, it would have given the Devil peace of mind. It would show that she has no reason to envy the girl. That her own life would not have turned out for the 'better' if only she made different choices. That she could never have been as Hotaru is now. That darkness was truly inevitable.
It is now Marise's turn for revulsion. At that final accusation she re-straightens. Stepping back and away from the girl just as she did mere moments ago. Her face a tempest of a hundred emotions, barely strung together in tenuous composure. Lower lip quivering as her jaw sets to the tune of grinding teeth. Eyes glimmering with anguish and rage in equal measure.
She can't.. say anything to that. A vehement denial does not fly off from her trembling lips nor a whispered acknowledgement. She doesn't want to be here any more with this girl. She's done with her. She wants to be as far from her as possible. Looking upon her now has become agony. The Devil could conspire to kill her.. But then that would only confirm this agonizing truth forever.
Marise turns to the girl one more time. Her monster eyes glaring through her with a desperate emotion between a threat and a plea. Words fight behind her teeth but she swallows them all back, no longer trusting anything she has to say. And with that glare, she then simply walks away. Turning away and marching off with brisk determination. She'd run if the final threads of dignity she has left could survive it.
She figured it out slowly, first convincing herself out of what Marise had to say. That she could have... SHOULD have turned out just like the Devil of Koga. From there came the realization as to what the true horror was: to be invalidated. To have your life perspective shattered by undeniable proof. But the heart of the matter was that that horror was not hers to bear but the dark fiend that she stares back at now. That's what it is, she realizes. The shame she admitted to. The fury at having failed to get the girl to kill. To come so close to validating it all, every detail of her path in life, only to fail right at the cusp of victory.
Marise backs up, her face a storm of emotions. So different from that frightful ghost in the shadows she met a year ago. Then she was inhuman, a monster, so far beyond the lives she preyed upon as to be a myth, a ghost story. But the creature in front of the girl is very much alive in her deadened state, awakened to knowledge she had tried to bury away beneath atrocicties unnumbered.
She can see the anger. But it isn't just that. The hurt. The betrayal. The horror. The pain. The young fighter, the rising star who seems to have nothing but the brightest future ahead of her, stares back at the rotted beauty that shared her strengths and her fears, and when the time came, took the different path that would make all the difference.
The Devil turns her back on Hotaru and strides away, her path perhaps uncertain except that it take her far away from the Futaba heiress. There are to be no more words spoken between them. What could be said spoken, what could be known discovered; from here they go their seperate ways. Slowly Hotaru brings her arms up, hugging herself as if to stave off an unlikely chill on the warm summer's eve. She watches the blackness retreat but as it does so, she also feels a certain vacuum left in its departure. That connection she had with the woman was quite real and while her conscious mind would reject the thought, her heart can't help but feel the weight of having the creature bearing her mother's visage turning on her, parting ways for what would seem the final time. "I know I was right," she whispers to herself, arms held in that hugging position. "But why do I feel as if I have lost something?"
She turns. Her destination for the immediate future is more certain - to return to the comforts of her estate. Her destinations beyond that are far less certain. But she is confident of her path, of the choices she had made to get this far. And that alone shall be her solace on this bitter night.
Log created on 23:39:18 08/20/2008 by Marise, and last modified on 02:05:18 09/02/2008.