Description: So, what happens when you go before the entire world at long last and put up a fight worthy of a debut? The world starts to recognize you, that's what! Kaida Inoue, a young up and coming swordswoman, recognizes him out on a cold afternoon and strikes up a conversation. Is she a fan? Or, does she have some other purpose in mind...?
Late January is not beach weather. Especially not in the breezy late afternoon, an hour after most schools let out. It's looking to be a very chilly Thursday evening. The cold mist from the crashing waves of Sound Beach reinforce the reality of how narrow a range temperature must be for life to be sustained, or even comfortable for any length of time. A light, misty rain is about to fall upon the area just to further drive the fact most people should be heading home right about now.
Not one Howard Rust, whose life is full of hard days in rough weather. This chill and threat of rain means precious little. He once again neglects to wear anything with long sleeves to keep his body temperature up, in the same ratty outfit he wears pretty much anywhere and everywhere when not teaching (and sometimes even when he is). It's him versus the elements. After his first ever Neo League, his first ever fight in the public eye, he's about ready to get the good fight going again. Who? When? Where? Who knows...
Ol' Rusty, that beat up length of pipe he keeps carting around through a toolbelt pocket torn out at the bottom, points seaward under the guidance of his right arm as the wielder stands tall, a neutral expression before the crashing oceans that touch for his boots. Slowly and deliberately, he moves his arm about in obscure patterns he may be making up on the spot.
His combover of horror holds strong against the breeze.
It really is a horrible time to be going to the beach if you expect to have a good time. Sand is bad enough in summer when you can walk down to the water to rinse it off, but here in winter where immersion in the water could quickly induce hypothermia that's not such a good idea. But there are upsides to it. That wind, Kaida reflects as she walks along the shore for the second time in a week, would be just about perfect for flying a kite. Light down below, but from the look of the clouds quite fast up higher. She'll have to test that theory some time.
But for now the beach holds little of value to the Taiyo student- just wind, sand, the ocean and rain, judging by the appearance of the mist. It'd be easy to fall into the familiar trap of asking herself what she was doing out here, but she already knows the reason. A slight hope that she might run into someone she had met here the other day, but it seems that will not be the case.
No, that person is not here, though she isn't entirely alone. There is one other person on the beach, but he's not the type Kaida would walk up to and start a conversation under any ordinary circumstance. A middle aged white man with a white t-shirt, one could almost call it sloppy with how it attempts and fails to hide his gut, some kind of tool belt with a rusty pipe of all things, and the most hideous comb over ever to grace the planet earth.
He's just not the sort of man that sixteen year old girls should be walking up to and making conversation. So at first, she simply gives him his space and walks around him as she passes. But glancing back on a whim there's something she recognizes that she can't quite figure out. It's the nose- a very distinctive nose. She can't help but think she's seen it somewhere before. But where? Sixteen year old girls really shouldn't stare at middle aged men, but sometimes they can't help it,
"Hnn." The man grunts as he starts to tenderly rub his shoulder. His joints like to be his enemy no matter how much stretching he does beforehand. He can't help it, really, with how much he worked himself to exhaustion so long ago. Changing weather does it in. But he resists it, all the same. Rain or shine, he works. That's his old mantra from his youth. Even snow, the most unfamiliar weather phenomenon to him, doesn't stop him. The roads, though. The /roads/. Different story entirely.
A story going off track. He doesn't appear to notice the young girl passing by him, perhaps her footsteps are masked by the crashing waves. Drawing his hand off his shoulder, he rubs underneath his nose once with a loud sniff, draws back his right arm... and thrusts the pipe forward with a grunt, then lowering it gently down and off to the side. The motion repeats once more with a louder, more forceful grunt punctuated by his right elbow making a very loud 'crack' noise.
"Aaaaah," he exhales as he shakes his arm out. Maybe it's a little too soon for him to resume, he wonders.
There's something not right about this picture. The man standing there waving his pipe around at the sea, as if her were a conductor of fish. But despite the pipe and the getup being the recognizable part, it's that nose and that face that give Kaida a feeling of gnawing resemblance. But to what? She hasn't seen this man before, has she? The odds of it are rather slim, especially since she should remember someone as different from herself as Rust.
The pipe stabs forward, and an instinctive reaction comes from Kaida- block it, swing the bokken upward and knock it away. She recognizes the reaction in herself easily but why, from a pipe? Then the reason hits her as a simply memory washes over her like the waves attempting to soak Rusts boots. A memory of her flipping channels and running onto a Neo League match, the tail end of one where this very man in front of her nearly crushed Zach Glenn in a single blow immediately after receiving such a blow himself.
And just like that, everything's changed. Rust is no longer just some man standing on the beach. He is recognized. Recognized for his skill and talent as a fighter by someone who had otherwise never met him before. Kaida puts on a smile and turns the rest of the way around, now walking directly toward him. Not pausing for a moment despite some inherent rudeness in disturbing another in their solitude, she does not stop until she's only a few feet away. "Excuse me, sir? You are Howard Rust, right? I saw your fight on television, and I wanted to ask you some questions."
He rolls his right shoulder around a few times to try and loosen it up as the young woman first begins to recognize who he is, and coughs twice in succession. What am I going to do, he wonders. Go back, rest up, finish grading some projects and finalize his lesson plans for the next month... or keep at it? Even now, the life of a full time schoolteacher and a modern gladiator are exceptionally tricky to balance with little cooldown time for each. He'll never know how so many his age - and in the same profession - seem to balance it effortlessly, even after Hayato's energy-building exercise suggestions.
"Huh?" His head rises some as he turns it behind his left shoulder to the sight of something with... green hair? He turns all the way around, one of his knees making a distinctive though somewhat muted cracking noise. "Yeah... yeah. I'm him." He rubs underneath his nose with his free hand again, resting Ol' Rusty on his right shoulder with the other. He clears his throat and pats his chest twice before continuing. "Saw me on TV, huh?"
It's strange what washes through him at that moment as he sizes the girl up. She's a fan, is she? Saw his fight on TV and... even with that bizarre event of one of his friends at home managing to call him across the Pacific while he was in the middle of a fight just by randomly keying in numbers, it hasn't really sunk in all the way yet. He lost his first fight, but he's already famous just for the finish. It's really something.
He doesn't let that kind of giddy enthusiasm show on his face. He's had a long enough day that it'd be hard to show much enthusiasm for anything on the surface. "I, uh... sure! What can I help you with?"
"I did. I have to admit; I was impressed. I'd never seen you compete before, and from out of nowhere you nearly defeated a powerhouse like Zach." Who has been around the league quite a bit by now and whose power is unmistakable. Kaida's admiration is fairly obvious, but it's not the squealing fangirl type where you can find girls trying to kiss their TVs. That he takes this encounter with nonchalance is impressive as well, and gives him another notch of respect in her book.
"A few things, actually. I was curious at how you learned a fighting style like that. Especially with your chosen weapon. A pipe is not something I would ever have imagined being used in a disciplined martial art- not an ordinary, and rusted pipe. I would only see that as something you'd only use out of desperation, or if you couldn't afford anything better." Is she a fan after all? Her steady tone of voice can make her words sound demeaning- insulting even. "But that isn't how you used it at all. You knew exactly what you were doing; it showed."
Her last question is a selfish one, and with brutal honesty the primary reason of her walking over to Rust and engaging him in any kind of meaningful conversation, even if she would have anyway if this question wasn't on her mind. "And finally, I am curious as to how you joined the Neo League itself." She pauses for a moment, "The specifics, that is, I don't doubt your qualification. I'm interested in joining myself."
One of his knees start to sting at the mention of Zach. That knee will never forget that blasting that happened on this here beach many months ago, although the rest of him is rather composed. Sober, even. He stretches the pained leg out a little off to the side. Little stretches and such gestures are common, because when the man stops moving, his body just likes to lock up on him.
"Yeah," his voice trails off as Zach is mentioned as being a powerhouse. The guy is small. He's pretty sure he's not even taller than the young lady in front of him right now, but yet how hard he /hits/. It's really unlike anything else. Not even Marisol, whom packs more punch in her fist than a girl her age and size has any right to, measured up. Maybe even comparable to that... no, he doesn't want to think about /him/ right now, that guy who attacked Pacific a good long while back. He scratches the back of his head.
He's quiet through most of her evaluation of the eccentric bits of his fighting style. It's true, not a lot of people go around with a pipe. Usually it's swords, like... like the ones she has on her hips, come to think of it. He doesn't take much offense from her observations, though a low hum escapes his throat before he speaks. "It's... it's the first time I've ever been on TV." He nods his head. "But, I've practiced for years." All these years straight? His physical shape does not appear to fully indicate this! "I didn't, didn't really learn it from anyone. Just ah... honestly, can't say I remember too clearly now. Been so long. Just... one day, there was some trouble back home. Looked in a gutter somewhere, picked up the first thing I saw, and... rest is history, there about."
He's pretty sure he might've said something about this to a Neo League-hired profile maker or something in the recent past. Maybe they haven't aired that yet? He's only been in that one battle with Zach. Who knows, maybe they'll talk more about him once he's more firmly established. "Join the Neo League? Ah... I'm not a recruiter, or, or nothin', but... it's not too hard to get in. They got numbers you can call. Websites to visit, uh... y'need a number or something?"
Kaida has some experience with standing up to massive pummeling power, having to face down her sister and her father, but never the kind of stopping power that comes from energy. Especially Zachs special brand of it, which she knows next to nothing about. But it's not hard to recognize what's happening when he summons purple and everyone around him begins writhing in pain- even people who could take a wrecking ball without flinching too much.
"Was it? Then I'm glad I caught your first televised fight. From the looks of it you should do fairly well." Definitely not something she'd have considered when she first saw him there on the beach. If you would have stopped her and asked her she would have probably guessed he'd crumple under the first blow. Looks are deceiving, though- many might say the same about her. "Hm, I guess I wasn't too far off in that case. Got into some trouble and picked it up and it worked. Sounds like it's the same one too, then. Sentimental value for your weapon- I can respect that. And you've taught yourself how to make it into something more useful than you'd initially expect, I like that."
She then nods her head, "You have there number? I'm sure I could figure it out from there if you could give it to me, sure." Reaching into a pocket she pulls out her cell phone, a pink flip phone that in all honesty is a bit of a piece of junk compared to the hot gadgets most of the other kids at school are carrying around these days. She flicks it open with her wrist and scrolls through the menus with a few taps of her thumb. No words are spoken, but she looks up at Rust in an expectant manner.
"Same one? Uh... kind of, sort of," he scratches the side of his chin thoughtfully. He finds it kind of hard to explain. It's easy to believe if it /is/, looking at how beat up that thing is. And the tetanus shots! Just laying eyes upon it might be enough to make one consider getting them. In the eyes. To say nothing of other particular eyesores about this middle aged man by the many differing standards of various societies!
"Yeah, I can get you their number, set up some appointment time, or..." He starts to dig into his pocket for his cellphone. He frowns for a moment. That's right, he had to switch numbers and get a new cell, he's yet to put their hotline on the new one. He grumbles. When is he going to have a moment in his life to remember that he needs to get all the people he's in contact with his new phone number? Oh, well.
He doesn't think much of the model of cellphone Kaida has on her. He's just jealous that manufacturers make things that fit in hands like hers, not his. "I don't got their number on mine. Had to get a new one," he says as he opens his up. Might as well key it in while he's here. It's a catchy number, hard to forget... if you're an English speaker.
"I remember it, so... you re--" her nod is timed perfectly. He nods back as he tries to guide his large thumb across a bunch of tiny keys stuck together on his model. How the hell can he precisely press a key and not hit a bunch of them together at once? "They got a local office. So, same area code as all around here... after that?" He clears his throat as his voice begins to trail off. Stupid dry throat, despite being so humid out here!
"Sorry. Okay. After the area code... 's Two. Three. Zero... Seven." The pause comes from him making a mistake because of his fat ol' thumb hitting a bunch of keys, punctuated by him narrowing his eyes. "Three. Four. Six. Three."
"Hm." Well maybe it isn't the same one and maybe is, with a comment like that it's hard for her to tell. Either way he stuck with fighting with a pipe, which is quirky enough for someone who isn't a thug walking down the street only to meet their inevitable doom at the hands of a group of unlikely heroes walking the other way.
"That'd be great," Kaida comments when he says he can get her the number. She doesn't expect him to recite it from memory though, but when he starts entering the numbers into his own phone it's rather hard not to recognize that's what's going on. The trouble dealing with the small numbers isn't lost on her either. It's funny that someone who can wield a pipe with such dexterity has trouble with something as common as the pad of a cell phone, but sometimes that's just how life is.
"Two, three, zero, seven, three four, six, three." She repeats back at a quick pace "Got it." A quick little bow is given, "Thanks, I appreciate this. It makes sense that they'd have an office in Southtown. Maybe I should have just tried looking them up in the phone book..." Hm. That would have been a rather quick solution, wouldn't it? "So Mister Rust," she starts to ask now that that little bit of personal business is taken care of, "I'm curious. After picking up your pipe I can see why you'd want to learn to fight to protect yourself, but why enter the professional circuit?" And the far more interesting question, "And why... now?" He did say it was a long enough ago he could hardly remember! Well, this is what you get when your 'fan' wasn't there to see the introductory bio before the fight.
It is easy for him to remember those eight numbers for what they kinda-sorta spell, but it's a very much an English language thing. Mr. Rust isn't completely unaware of the little messages some people in these parts make out of phone numbers and is still surprised they didn't come up with something like that over here, but, English does seem to be universal in the fighting world.
He keys in the number on his cellphone silently due to continuing difficulties with thumb vs. teeny tiny leetle keys, enough that after he fails to get the last one in he grunts, shuts the cellphone, and pockets it again with another nod at her polite bow. It's still a little worrying even now, though. So many kids are really into fighting, traveling all over... makes him wonder how this generation's been doing academically across the board, even if the actual fighting population among the youth remains a very small percentage.
She asks the question. Why enter, why now? He has to hold back a laugh, because so many people keep asking him the /exact opposite/ after catching him trying to train or otherwise see him in action as he tries to head off trouble.
He exhales. "Uh... truthfully?" He gingerly rubs the top of his head. Maybe the reason why he wears gloves is that he's truly ashamed to have to touch the atrocious thing he passes off for hair from time to time? He looks down and off to the side a bit as a few somewhat bitter thoughts from so long ago refresh themselves upon his psyche. "Been looking forward to it for... ah, a long time. No doubt I'm gettin' old." He remembers hearing pieces of commentary stating surprise at his age since they're used to seeing entrants at so much younger an age than he. "It's now or never. Pretty much, now or never." Proof? He starts to roll his right shoulder around as it gets stiff, another unpleasant, painful-sounding creaky noise coming from it.
It'd have to be shocking at how many teenagers around this city know how to fight and intend to enter the fighting world, but that comes with Southtown being the fighting capitol of the world. Those sorts of people just naturally gravitate to a place like this. Being a teacher in one of the four schools around here that have huge numbers of students doing just that has to put a slant on the statistics as well.
Kaida hums to herself a little and nods when he, to her, appears to be considering the question. "Good reason. If you've been looking forward to it for this long, then it's a good thing you haven't given up on your dream. Giving up something like that could haunt you for the rest of your life." It sounds really odd coming from the mouth of a sixteen year old, who at that age could barely even contemplate just how long a time someone's life is- a monumental length of time to someone as young as her.
"If you keep it up I'm sure you'll be proud of yourself, judging on how you fought against Zach. Hopefully I'll do just as well, if I ever get the chance." A reminder that she intends to fight as well? A discreet challenge that if he keeps it up they too might have to fight one day? Nah, just a passing comment. "Oh. I haven't properly introduced myself yet. I'm Kaida, Kaida Inoue." Those formalities can be really hard to remember, sometimes.
'Giving up something like that could haunt you for the rest of your life.' The way she phrases it, to him it sounds like she's repeating it from someone else she heard it from... maybe her dad? Another older relative? He doesn't dwell on it too much. After all, he's back from the brink of giving up. His one Neo League battle and the explosive finish proves it, even when he seemed ready to give up towards the end of the fight after suffering a number of Zach's overpowering techniques.
"Yeah," he finally replies after he stops rolling his shoulder. No doubt he'd regret it even if he told Nataya he was going to hang it up on that fateful afternoon. Or if he blew off Marisol's constant attempts to encourage him into trying again. Among all those other people... hell of a year that was.
"Kaida, huh... pleased to meet you," he resplies. "I'm Howard R-- oh, wait... you already know." He scratches the side of his head sheepishly. "Ah. 'Bout the League. Make sure... make sure you read /everything/ closely. There's things they cover, things they don't... hell, actually, they make you pay for all of it. Medical... travel... collateral damage..." He almost winces through the last one, considering Pacific High wanted /him/ to pay for the damages to that lobby area simply because he works there, even if not all the damages were really his fault. "Come to think of it... only compensation they give you is for fighting. But you wanna run it through your parents. It's hell on medical insurance premiums."
"Really? I'll have to be careful about that. The last thing I can afford to do is go into a fight expecting to make money and end up having to spend more than I make fixing any damage I caused." And then there are travel expenses and medical issues. Kaida shakes her head a little seeming to look through Rust rather than at him as she considers his words, "I'll just have to make some stipulations of my own. I'm sure there wouldn't be any property damage if I fought in a forest, or on a beach like that, and there's plenty of spots like that near Southtown." Which is rather odd, considering this is one of the most tightly packed countries in the world... but every rule has it's exception.
Her far away expression disappears after a moment, "My parents have already okayed it. In fact, that's why I'm looking to join up now. They said I wasn't allowed to enter professional competitions when we moved to Southtown and I first became interested in them. Now that I'm older they've rescinded that order. They think I'm ready, and I'm confident that I am as well. I can't think of a reason not to join, if it will help to make some money."
Howard's very first Neo League paycheck looks very good. Until he subtracts medical fees and the costs of restoring some of the things that were broken (of which he doesn't include the bench, because, well, screw that bench, screw all benches, the sooner people on campus stop asking him to fix benches supposedly expertly crafted and durable against the stresses of weather and weight for 'a lifetime,' the sooner he can do more productive things). Travel costs were not even a factor, and how much did he end up with? Just enough for a month's payment on the TV, and a decently sized sandwich from the change.
"Only been in one fight, so... can't give you much more than what I read off the contract," the teacher says. A lot of parents around here make a huge, huge deal about ensuring their children can make it into the college entrance exams to the point that their young lives barely have any free time, so hearing about some parents being A-OK with their child entering organized competition and potentially being dragged across the globe all the while... sign of the times, isn't it?
"Well, uh... dunno what else to tell you. I could, uh, wish you luck. Maybe I'll see you on TV... they film live, so, if you're camera shy... well."
"One fight is a lot more than no fights. I'm sure you know that better than anyone, since you've just started yourself. I don't expect it'll make me or break me, but my first professional fight is going to be important. If nothing else I'm positive I'll learn a lot about how my fighting style holds up against others." Kaida sounds fairly sure of herself at that. As for the money, how much can a teenager like her need? A months payment on a TV is some good clothing for a girl like her, right?
The camera shy comment gets a smile out of her. "Right, I know about that. I've actually practiced some in front of home cameras to make sure I'm not. I don't think I'll have a problem with it. My sister, though, she's pretty worried about cameras and the audiences. She's worried she'll be a mockery if she cracks from the pressure of it all, so we spar in front of cameras." There really is a lot about Kaida that doesn't add up, isn't there? Her parents apparently don't seem to mind that she's interested in professional fighting and she hasn't said a word about how it might be a problem for school, which getting involved too much in fighting could certainly disturb.
A second bow is given, "I hope you do, and I hope I see some new fights from you as well, the last one was entertaining." With a hum she quickly adds, "Who knows, maybe we'll even fight each other some day. Have a good evening, Mister Rust."
There kind of is an appeal in matching up technique versus technique, inch for inch, pound for pound. So many people seem to have styles modeled after their ancestors' ingenuity. For a guy like him who learns as he goes though much is set from years of fighting and practice, the mystique can be somewhat intimidating. Before long he's going to be going through the League listings again to pick out his next opponent, if someone doesn't pick him first. The teacher more or less nods through the sage-like self-evaluation of the virtues of growth and learning. She's young, she's got plenty of time for that, she seems to realize it. That's good.
He clears his throat again before he speaks, another short cough after the fact. "Agh. Sorry about that, I just get fits, here 'n there." He exhales again. "Dunno when I'll be on next. I'm a teacher, over at Pacific." He motions his head vaguely in the direction of where one would travel to reach it. "Most my week's spoken for." It's a full time job that demands consistency, dedication, patience... and not getting to do a lot of what you want to on the weekends, sometimes. Especially if you're the best handyman on campus and have to do almost every little menial task that the usual custodial staff deem out of their expertise. Which seems to keep increasing in number, these days.
"Yeah, uh... won't keep you any more." He's actually starting to feel the chill, as evidenced by the shiver that just runs up him. Maybe now's a good time to go in (and maybe next time WEAR A COAT). "Good luck with that and your studies, Miss Inoue."
There's also an appeal to seeing how those ancestral techniques do against the newer more modern creations, of which there have been quite a few cropping up lately. Older might mean more refined, but it doesn't necessarily mean better. Kaida gives him a small nod when he explains his coughing, and then seems a bit surprised when he says he's a teacher. "Is that so? I'm a student at Taiyo. Not a surprise that I haven't met you, but still interesting to know." It doesn't cross her mind that teaching might create more paperwork than being a student. But then for every assignment they hand out they have quite a few to grade, don't they?
A small nod is given then, and even a little wave, and she begins heading off. Two for two now she's met someone interesting at the beach. In January. Maybe there's something special about this beach. Then again, maybe it's just it's proximity to Pacific.
Log created on 18:51:45 01/29/2009 by Rust, and last modified on 14:22:49 01/30/2009.