Description: Following the interruption of the training fight between Zangief and Drake, young math whiz Kurenai encounters him again, training during a stormy afternoon...
Much earlier today, Drake had a preview against Zangief. From the looks of things, the Russian titan is every bit as monstrous as the rumors suggest. So he walked away from that, reaffirmed in his decision to amp up his training. So even while his body is still aching and sore from the beating it took earlier, Drake is out again in the afternoon to continue.
And what a bleary afternoon it is. No clear skies to be had over Barcelona. In fact, it looks a bit like the morning, only a touch darker. Chilly winds whip through the streets, made worse with a light, but steady rainfall of icy rain, ushering most people indoors.
Not Drake, however. The cold air and rain has ensured he's positively frozen, but the young model is determined to tough it out, along with the pain from the previous fight. Working out while in pain is a sure-fire way to work up the stamina and tolerance, he figures. So he's found a nice, high signpost jutting out of the wall of a building, from which he now suspends himself. His arms pump slowly, drawing his chest up to the pole, then lowering himself slowly in rythm, hissing with strain. His heavy breaths come out in the form of smoky wisps, hoodie darkened from the rain, and the hood, naturally, drawn up over his head.
It's a gray, drizzly afternoon--Kurenai is still wearing her school uniform but she's got a heavy raincoat over it, because she's not crazy. The yardstick is not in evidence though she undoubtedly has it... and she's moving like someone who took a fair amount of damage from a certain Red Cyclone earlier--which she did. But she waited 'til everyone left to get up... but not too long. Drake is... interesting, at least. She doesn't think he is directly useful to her employer, but she is allowed to pursue her own agendas...
So, she's been tracking him. Quietly, of course, and subtly, she's remained between a block and a half-block away, mittened hands in her pockets, watching as he does pullups. Kind of crazy--why not work out somewhere warm and comfortable? Well, people have their reasons for doing these things.
After watching Drake work out for a while, Kurenai kind of shrugs to herself... and walks up, hands still in her pockets, waiting quietly in front of Drake, eyes tracking his up and down movements.
Up. Down. Up. Down.
But on that second descend, he picks out a shape observing him. In the shadowy, not-quite-illuminated street, he can't really make out who it is. But whoever it is in the raincoat, they seem to be watching him. Someone that recognizes him, perhaps? His first inclination is to give a cheeky while dangling with one arm, but as soon as he considers it, he realizes that he'd likely fall right off. Tough as he's trying to train himself, his arms are extremely worn at this point. So he opts to just drop from the perch, landing in a brief crouch on the sidewalk.
As Drake raises to his full height, his head tilts a little inside the hood. Whether she can make out his face or not, she gets a pleasant smile. "Heya."
The smile is returned with one of her own, though she does seem to regard him curiously. He probably -doesn't- recognize her--he only got a few glimpses really, before the whole thing went down, but he might. Kurenai, however, only recognizes him from that fight. "Hiya," she replies, her voice, if not her figure, marking her as a young girl, likely in her teenage years.
"I, uh, I saw you fighting earlier today." There's a pause as she thinks about her next words, rocking back on her heels.
"Didn't know he was going to be so, uh... so angry." There isn't any sort of censure in her voice, at least not now, though she just shrugs. That's how some people are, aren't they?
"Sorry I was spying. I just heard something and I wanted to see what it was."
The voice, mostly. Raincoats aren't very conducive to checking a person out. But be that as it may, the female is identified with what she says. "Oh," says Drake, smile fading a little. "You were the one that decided to fight Zangief. And the one that hit me." His left hand sets to his hip while the right hand busies itself with pushing back his hood. The young model's face is brought out into the weak light, but he maintains a good-natured smile. "Wouldn'a been my choice of first impressions, but what'cha gonna do?," he muses.
His head inclines slightly, the raindrops sliding over his bangs to drip over the sidewalk. "Just promise me you'll keep the fight to yourself? Can't take the suspense away from the fans, you know?"
Kurenai gives a wry smile. "I... he didn't really give me much of a choice, did he? Throwing you at me... blaming me for batting you back..." She shrugs a little.
"He didn't seem inclined to just let me go, though I don't know -why- he got so violent... he was calling you friend yet he just threw you at someone else? Doesn't seem very friendly to me..."
The young girl posts her hands on her hips, and regards the model-wrestler. "Keep it to myself? I don't know who I'd tell, anyways... y'know?"
"He's Russian," Drake excuses with a half-shrug.
Makes perfect sense.
"Anyway, I'd appreciate it all the same if you kept it on the down-low." But he feels he's ground that in enough. She seems amiable enough, stick-thwacking aside. No, he's never going to live that down. "Are -you- okay, though? Tried to keep him from really hurting you, but I couldn't be sure. Called that ambulance for you...," he trails.
"Like I said... who would I tell? Don't worry, I'm not the kind of girl to blab like that." She smiles, faintly.
"It was an interesting experience, at least... I don't usually fight big guys like that." Russians must be crazy, then, if that makes perfect sense.
Kurenai waves the concern away. "I'm fine. Well, I'll -be- fine. Bruising, mostly, and I heal pretty well. What about you? Sorry I hit you--it was kind of, you know, reflex..."
"Hugs are out of style," bemoans Drake jokingly. "Alas. But it's all one jumble of 'ouch' anyway, so eh. Don't worry about it, I guess. Just as long as he didn't break you or anything."
As for himself? Drake pats himself down, over the shoulder, ribs, abdomen. Everything seems to be in place. "I've lived through worse. But it was good training for me. It was what I was looking for. Guy's gotta toughen up for the big matches, you know?"
"Well, I'm not much of a hugger, but I wouldn't've hit you if he hadn't, you know... kind of tossed you at me." The girl gives a wry grin. "And like I said, I heal pretty well. I'm not broken, not by a long shot. Don't worry 'bout me, really."
"I guess so. It's not how I'd choose to do it, but... if it works for you, right?" She doesn't, of course, mention that she was actually awake to hear their discussion about their upcoming fight. But like she said.. she isn't a blabber.
Well, not usually. There are a couple people whom she tells everything, but they aren't likely to break the news to the world.
"It's a heck of a way to get results," Drake says. "Gotta push yourself to get better. Fundamental of all workout programs." And he recites it as though it were a law written somewhere, complete with his right fist pounding into his left palm.
But then eh right hand extends out to her suddenly. "The name's Vyril, by the way. Drake Vyril. Or Domino, if you know that name better." The fighter gives a light, pleasant smile again as his hand remains outturned. "What's your name, Miss Gutsy Enough to Fight Zangief?"
"Ah, yeah. I just don't know if I'd want to push myself -that- hard. I mean... Zangief is pretty well known. I think I'd prefer to start somewhere a little closer..." That's just her, though--but Drake's point is well taken, in turn. The pink-haired girl regards the hand for a moment, then reaches out to take it.
"Takayanagi Kurenai. Nice to meet you, Mr. Vyril," she replies, as pleasant as can be, and why not? "I don't know that I would call it gutsy... like I said, he didn't really give me much choice..."
"Holy cow," Drake says, pausing a moment before giving her hand the gentlest of shakes. "I.. uh.. I'll have a heck of a time remembering that name. Do you have any nicknames? Can I maybe give you one?" The mirth comes back to his face at that question, and his left hand joins the handshake briefly before both release her mitten.
"And you could've begged and pleaded to be let go. Most people would've done that, I think. So it seems safe to say you're a gutsy little thing." Drake's hands stuff into the pockets of his pants. Not that it's doing much against the weather, what with his clothes being soaked through at this point.
"I, uh... I don't really go in for nicknames." She shrugs, eloquently, thinking for a moment. "You can just call me Kurenai, though," she decides. Hopefully that isn't too hard.
"Begged...? I guess I could have. But why would I do that? Just because he is big and scary doesn't mean I'm going to be afraid of him, you know?" And she clicks her tongue. "You should go change... you're going to catch ill in those soaked clothes and then where will you be?"
Aww, such concern. But Kurenai smiles, regardless. Her grip is firm, if not -especially- strong; she doesn't hold the handshake for too long, either.
"Kurenai's a lot easier," Drake agrees with a smile. But her reluctance to beg melds that away, leaving to an odder look. "He.. could've seriously hurt you, actually. In a really bad way." Heck, if Drake didn't urge Zangief not to hurt her any further, who knows what condition she'd be in! He really seemed to be going ape-crap on her.
The concern is a little endearing, though. It merits a softer little smile from Drake, and he bobs his shoulders. "If the body has to go through more, it'll toughen up better. Learn to focus out everything else but the task at hand." Given a moment's pause, his hands lift again to whisk through his now rather slick hair. "What are -you- doing out here, anyway? It's pretty cold'n wet out here for a raincoat, too!"
"Sure. But that's the risk, isn't it? I mean... he could've hurt -you- seriously, too. Not only when he was fighting you, but when he threw you at me... what if I'd've just chosen to dodge? You might've hit the door face-first or something..." Another shrug from the young Kurenai.
"I mean, if I went through life being afraid of being hurt I'd never get _anything_ done, you know?" Ah, the question... what -is- she doing out here? "Well, I'm on a school field trip, see... and we're uh, we're in 'free time' right now, so I was just out wandering around and I found you again."
"Believe me. I've faced things a lot more dangerous than that situation," Drake says, momentarily humorless and grave.
But he's content enough to shake his head and let the issue drop. She's one of those zealous schoolgirl-types, it seems. They seem to be marked with an unfathomable desire to plunge into huge situations. Like a couple old teammates of his, come to think of it. "Anyway, what's the field trip supposed to be centered around? Seeing bullfights? The architecture? My toouur?," Drake drawls, humor and playful smile back on his face.
"Ah, it's a general study of Spanish culture... architecture, art, even food. The school likes to send us out like this every once in a while. To 'broaden our horizons'. Personally," she smiles, "I think it's just a way for the teachers to get an occasional vacation. But, they can be enlightening, in more ways than one."
"You're here on a tour, you said? What kind of tour?" Kurenai sounds genuinely interested, and she probably is, honestly. After all, it's not something people do every day, take world tours. She cocks her head, her gaze fixed on Mr. Vyril intently.
"A world tour," Drake explains cheerful with a small semi-hop. "Traveling from one country to the next, fighting their best fighter to showcase that country's talent and test my own skill against'em. It's great!" His fists set to his hips, and he smiles brightly. "Not a ton of publicity -yet-, but I get the feeling come Russia, it'll really explode in popularity."
She nods repeatedly, as she listens, making sounds like "mmhmm..." It's a Japanese thing, something that others call 'active listening'. It's to show you're paying attention to the speaker, an indication of interest.
"I take it that your 'world tour' has been going well, then? You're going to Russia next?" she asks, offhandedly--useful information to know, should she need to track this man down.
"Where did you start out, anyways? The world is a big place, after all... I wouldn't know where to begin."
"Yep." Drake turns to the side, as if naturally knowing the direction of Russia. Of note: he doesn't. So he's just turning aside for dramatic effect, anxious smile on his face. "Russia's the next spot. And it's gonna be huge. Just have to get through Spain first."
Promptly, Drake turns to face the girl again. "Israel. It depends on who applies for the country. Israel turned out to be the first one to get on the ball and send in their representative."
"... Israel? Who was their representative?" Kurenai looks up, obviously thinking. "Probably someone practicing... ooh, what -is- it called... Krav Maga, right? That's supposed to be a pretty vicious martial art." Kurenai tosses off the tidbit as if it's something anyone should know, which might be odd to some. But Krav Maga is starting to be known as a serious martial art. Deadly serious, in fact, for most practitioners.
"I saw something about it on TV once. Looks really brutal."
"It was a guy they called Spider," Drake replies. "And I think that was his style, yeah. He was a war hero, or somesuch. It was a great fight to kick off the tour, and yeah. Some of the things were pretty painful. No doubt about that." His enthusiasm drains slightly at that. "Didn't get to hang out with him afterwards like I intended, though. See, I'd like to learn what I can from each guy after the fight."
"War hero, huh." Kurenai shrugs at that, and manuevers about, leaning against a nearby wall--she's been just standing for a while, movement helps keep the blood circulating! She nods slowly. "Guess that makes sense. I'd think some of 'em would want to keep their secrets, though..."
Definitely something to think about, though. Could make for a very useful information-gathering technique; Kurenai files it away, even as she pushes away from the wall to give herself a quick shake, tossing accumulated rain from her raincoat.
"Phew.. they didn't say Barcelona was going to be like this..."
"I know!," agrees Drake enthusiastically. "You say Spain, and you immediately think bright suns, clear skies, and warm breezes!" Drake's gaze turns distant, daydreamy despite the falling rain and ever-increasingly cold wind. "With seagulls cawwing.. or whatever noise they make.. and waves rolling, and the people bustling around the sidewalk, lots'a vendors running arund..."
He had a pretty vivid preset image of what Barcelona would be like. Alas, no luck in the winter season.
His eyes turn dull and listless. "Instead, we get this. Cold rain and wind. Blech." And now that he mentions it, his attention is drawn more to it. It starts to get a shiver from him, arms looping around his torso to close his body off a bit more.
"Well... you know. I guess the rain in Spain -does- fall mainly on the plain." Hah. She never thought she'd be able to make that joke! Still... Kurenai clucks again. "I've kept you out here too long. You're soaked to the bone! You really are going to catch ill if you keep standing here." A shiver. The cold's getting to her, too.
"Heck, *I* might catch a cold like this.. Mister, I should be getting back to my hotel. I'd offer to let you come along but... well, you know. It's a school trip, it wouldn't really be... uh... appropriate."
The limmerick earns her the strangest, most lost look ever. "Wha-.."
He trails off. Big amethyst eyes blink at her.
The subject change is a welcome one, however! "I guess so." At her comment on propriety, he smiles a little ruefully. "True enough. So how's about I just suggest you come find me later when it's not raining? We can talk more." His expression softens a little. "I meant what I said about gutsiness. Kind'a curious why you'd try to fight someone in the first place. So come find me before you guys take off, eh?"
A smile. "I'll try, but I can't promise anything! So... yeah. I'll try an' come find you sometime soon, if my teacher lets me." With that, Kurenai pushes off the wall, and starts walking--about a quarter-block away she turns and waves, then shrugs her coat on deeper, and starts walking faster. She wants to get out of the rain, for sure. The rain and the cold. She wants some nice hot chocolate...
Log created on 21:15:50 01/03/2009 by Kurenai, and last modified on 21:57:07 01/15/2009.