Description: Howard Rust and Hakuya Suigetsu have been forcibly recruited into Rolento's war efforts after the standoff at Pacific. It's something that doesn't settle well with either of them, having gotten a small primer of the way he operates personally. Given but a few days to recover before they are to deploy, the two take advantage of the temporary peace (among some dead guys) to touch on a few things. Though the war's events see them in Rolento's lockdown, perhaps the two of them can find way to revelations that have long since eluded their grasp.
Three days. Three days until one Rolento says he will show the both of them how a war is won. Yet, through the tinted windows, the passage of time is nearly impossible to measure... lest one have any handy electronics on hand to tell them the time. The water heater and boiler are the only company the two of them have other than themselves, unless any one of them are interested in talking to two bodies who can no longer talk back.
This basement, where they lay recovering - Howard Rust of Pacific and Hakuya Suigetsu of Gedo - may very well be the extent of their world now, until Rolento pops by and yanks them out. The same colors, scents, and sounds are all there is in this makeshift base for the war effort.
Mr. Rust, still in his cot, squeezes at the little foam ball with his right hand. He feels every inch of burnt, cut muscle scream at every flexing. It is difficult for him to tighten his fist for long, let alone as hard as he was able to before that day. Every so often he grunts, like a lunkhead at a gym who goes full bore with their weight training regime. Of every little injury he has accumulated in his years, this is the worst one. Ol' Rusty lays on the dusty ground by the side of the cot, as if cheering on from below. Except that inanimate objects don't really do any cheering, but... that aside.
There is hardly much else to do. Rest when he feels weary, work his hand in order to prevent further loss of use, drink what nourishment is provided... this could be the longest 72 hours of his life, next to the time he was wondering if his job application to Pacific was to be accepted.
The time spent in this room has been passed in relative silence. After being told in no uncertain terms they were going to be drafted into Rolento's military and then shown how to 'win the war', Hakuya hasn't precisely been the most talkative sort. Normally, the young Gedo student isn't much for words period, and instead lets others do the talking for him, or more likely, lets actions do it. When he does talk, normally he enjoys being cheerful and pleasant. Now, however, there isn't much of that. Every hour he's awake, the Guardian King has a serious expression on his face as if he's caught in thinking.
Every so often, Hakuya does a form of his own 'foam ball' exercise. But rather than just squeezing a little object, the Suigetsu youth shadow boxes, after a fashion. Simply moving through several training kata without thinking about it, he strikes the air with his fists several times over in some kind of indecipherable order, often punctuating it with a dual palm strike that is accompanied with some kind of flash of blue light. It's only during this time of 'training' to get himself moving again that Hakuya doesn't look serious. After he's done, he drinks water and rests. Then, some time later, he repeats it.
After about the fourth or so repetition, Hakuya finally speaks up. "That man... that mercenary. He isn't a good person. He may be seeking to defend this place... but he doesn't understand people. Just numbers." The young student quiets for a moment. Though he doesn't look around furitively, it's almost as if he's afraid of what'll happen if he says the next phrase. But eventually, he does. "We need to escape."
The teacher really does envy the youth in a lot of ways. He's never been much of a morning person, let alone someone who can easily drag themselves to their feet after a hard day. Where the Guardian King is up and practicing his katas, the teacher remains bedridden. Exhausted. Filled with that sense of depressive dread that's plagued him for the span of the entire war.
Can't let pain and sloth overcome him, it was said. But damned if it isn't easier said than done! His elbow makes an unpleasant creaking noise as he lets it go limp for the moment, exhaling loudly as knuckles tap noisily against the rusty length of pipe, a scratching sort of noise as it grinds briefly against the ground.
"Yeah... yeah... scary son of a bitch." He utters tiredly as he bends his left knee upward, another loud pop of his aging, overworked joints. This was part of a plan to sit up. Note the past tense. It is abandoned three seconds later as his back decides for him that it is too stiff for him to sit up with. He doesn't seem to hold much of an opinion about escaping one way or the other, preoccupied with the terrible aches in one hand and the somewhat less terrible aches in the rest of him.
It is to be expected, the difference in activity. Hakuya is not yet out of his teens, and thus has more energy, and more importantly, better recuperative ability than older people. But more to the point, Hakuya didn't get as badly beaten as Howard Rust did. He had time to recover between blistering attacks, to deal with the pain and damage, unlike his companion, who simply kept getting hammered with insanely powerful blows.
And, well, if nothing else, Hakuya's training consisted of him getting beat black and blue every day until he learned to block. He was made of pretty stern stuff. Tonka Tuff, even.
At Rust's comment, however, Hakuya smiles a little. It was a comment that Tenma might've made, though perhaps a little more admitting that anyone or anything scared him. Given that Rust says nothing more, though - or perhaps lets the fact he's groaning in pain speak for him - Hakuya's smile is short-lived. After a moment, he sits up on the bed, and turns to look at the fellow captive. "I mean it. Didn't he... didn't he kill people while we were trying to protect Pacific High? I know they were our enemies, but..." The King pauses here, and squeezes his hands together, frowning. "I don't think that man really knows how to defend this city... or, I should say, I don't think he knows how to defend the /people/ of this city," Hakuya says. Despite his relative quiet, he's unusually perceptive for a kid, he just doesn't know it... and doesn't think he is.
The teacher grunts again as he tries to prop himself up with his other elbow, another disruptive joint pop or two as Hakuya narrates his feelings about Rolento, and killing... and speaking of killing you know what's killing him? Everything!! The teacher makes a sour face as he wins this next, hard battle to sit all the way up, air escaping him in a prolonged sigh as he starts to rub his lower back. Ugh. Back. Ugh. Ugh. I'm not even forty yet, why does my back want to pretend it's like seventy?
"That's... that's not what gets me." What? His fellow man, albeit aggressive and ill-intentioned, falling under precise strikes by the insidious Rolento Schugerg? He coughs once, lowering his head and grimacing as another surge of pain runs through his lower back. Is three days even going to be enough?
"I mean, uh... what gets me..." The teacher has a hard time narrowing it down. What gets him? Oh, a lot. Why his job continued to treat him like shit even in the worst of times, why didn't he run, why did he even sign up to teach over here in the first place, why he even thought he stood a chance... he clears his throat once more, as if to pre-empt interruption. "What gets me... I got a, a visit. Day before. Small girl... local? Didn't wear much, just... black. With, with this... blonde hair, remembered her from when she was, was causing trouble at the school, and... excuse me."
He turns his legs onto the floor. It has been a good long while since his feet managed to touch a solid floor. Oddly, he finds the floor through his boots more comfy than the cot, somehow, regardless of the number of pops that come with trying to forcefully swing stiff legs onto the ground. "She said... she said that, and I remember, powerful people didn't want to, want to see the school fall." His left hand rubs at the part of his neck where Rolento nearly ended his life. "Gave me a number... and, and that was him. Uh... not that I knew who it'd be."
True to form, Hakuya listens fairly well. He simply looks at Rust as the man tries to get up with a series of pops, crackles, and even an occassional snap or two, which earns a little wince of sympathy from the Guardian King. He doesn't interrupt all through the man's talking, stuttered as it may be, simply waiting for it all to come out. He nods a few times through it to show he's following along... but finally the comment about the 'small local blonde girl' giving him the number gives him a moment's pause, and he frowns. Does he... know anyone like that? He did just recently meet that girl, Ayame, who had blonde hair... but he remembered her wearing more than just black, and more than just 'a little'.
"...It seems to me like she was wrong. That man clearly didn't care about the school. Or the people in it." Hakuya shakes his head a little, and lets himself drop off into silence. That was certainly something to be 'gotten' by, because it implied there was some kind of defensive force beyond merely just the schools. Not that Hakuya would know. He knew the name 'NESTS' and 'Shadaloo' now, but had no idea about anything else. He just figured that the schools were being targeted for some reason, and they had to do their best to defend themselves.
Was there some reason behind the attacks? Them seeking to fight someone else, bigger than the schools? A 'reason' had to exist, but Hakuya didn't really know.
So, he turns and lies back down on the bed, with merely a wince or two as his bruised ribs protest at moving again. "...Hopefully someone from Gedo will come look for me soon, and we can break out." He offers, hopefully.
The older man's face twists into a frustrated smirk. Yeah, some help. Though, if he didn't come, the soldiers would have probably killed the both of them by now... or, well, at least himself. Hakuya, there, looks like he could probably take a small platoon. He starts looking ceiling-ward as Hakuya talks about someone from Gedo coming to look for him soon.
"I'm not going nowhere." He states this with a clarity that belies the earlier, tired stuttering phrases from just moments before, lowering his head and then letting his upper body slouch forward, his left elbow on his knee the only thing keeping him propped up.
"I don't know... I don't know why the hell anyone... anyone, would... would attack the kids." Dejectedly, he shakes his head as the tone of his voice segues back to the tiredness where he tries to pick out what he really has to say with all that swims in his head. "Why anyone would, would... would do that sort of shit. For what? For who? Or why they got, they got a serial killer just... with them." The insults and jeers of Ojike no Oni still run deep through his subconscious even now. Twice, already, he's avoided near death in the war. He's surprised he could've gotten up and walked after the Gedo parking lot brawl. He's not surprised it took significant (if basic) medical work to make sure he could still draw breath after Igniz had his way with him (again).
"I'm done. I'm... I'm done. With all the, all the... crazy ass kids, and, and these soldiers, and... hnnnnnngh." He growls, sitting back up again and, at long last, making eye contact. His eyes are tired. Even with all those hours in that cot, he isn't rested. He's pushed to the brink.
"I don't have... I don't have a car, or, or a cell. I got nothing to get around... got nobody to contact. Got, got no way of figuring out what the fuck any more. Except for, except for one."
Huh?
It's not a vocalized question, but rather an expression. Hakuya turns to look at Rust with surprise evidenced on his face, and again, lets the older man talk as he would. Oddly, the words Rust uses to express doubt... they sound familiar. Not exactly the words he's used to describe his own feelings, on the confusion surrounding why people hurt others, but close enough. Granted, Hakuya never said 'he was done'... but there was a very good, important reason as to why he never gave up. Which was, his introduction to Marise. To a true 'demon' like his grandfather used to talk about.
So, he was going to tell Rust why he didn't give up, himself.
"I don't know why people hurt others. I only know, that they do. And that I have to... I /have/ to protect people from them. Because if I don't protect people from those who would hurt them, then who will? And if no one does... then all we have, are people who hurt others for no reason, and people who get hurt. And I don't want to live in that kind of a world."
Hakuya has turned his head away from Rust as he speaks, but now he looks back to the other man, a serious gaze in his eyes. A moment passes, however, and then he blinks, looking quizzically at the Pacific High teacher. "Huh? 'Except for one'? What do you mean?"
The will to stand and protect people... that stuff is easy to recite, isn't it. It's what the teacher's always told himself. He's the only one on Pacific's faculty with any fighting talent whatsoever - the job fell largely in his hands to ensure the kids aren't hurt, even with the notable children that surpass his ability. He has no idea what it's looking like at Pacific now. If it's still under siege, or if it's already fallen, or what have you. So much he doesn't know, so little he can do.
At least the kid is optimistic, he resigns himself before letting his emotions get the better of him, grunting as he stretches a leg out. He should get up. Walk around. He doesn't know how long it's been since he's done that, either. At least have something to show that he's not out of his own damn mind from worry and that feeling of helplessness that so many around the town may have felt during these times.
%After all, at last...
"The asshole beyond the door." He helpfully points with his left hand towards the way out without following it with his eyes. "Him... none of it makes, makes any sense. Don't know... don't know how to fight back. Can't just... can't just stay put. I want to know. I want to know... why, where... what, what they want to... do with all this."
The arm slumps as he pumps his right arm upward again, squeezing at the little foam ball about as hard as he can. When a part of you feels really weak, it's easy to confuse the loss of sensation for some sort of toughening up. That's his dominant hand, all torn up and more or less promising he won't get a 100% recovery out of it for the extent of injury inflicted upon it. He squeezes it as hard as he can, as though this gesture would help him get his point across.
"He's as close as, as I'm going to get. I don't... I don't think he's just gonna, gonna cough it up. But. But I think he's as close as I... as anyone, can get, to the truth." Teeth clench. "Why they're doing all this, why they're... attacking schools, and... and who would hire a, a terrorist to protect them. That son of a bitch, he's, he's got the answers."
He snarls as his right arm lowers again from the tension, hissing as the pain courses through his forearm and up to the elbow. "...Maybe... not all of them. But... I'm not going to, to keep fighting blind."
Hakuya does more than recite the words. He actually does his best to try and protect people. Not that, you know, he's always successful. If he had been, maybe Stasya and Shurui wouldn't have had to have undergone such pain from Marise. Or maybe he could've saved more people in the attack on Gedo. It was very... distressing. And something he was dealing with on his own end. The strength to protect people was a very different kind of strength compared to that needed to hurt people. You didn't even need superhuman ability to hurt someone. You needed all the strength you could get to protect people, however. Particularly if you seek to protect more than just one person.
But what Rust says, it's interesting. And something Hakuya hadn't even thought about. Hakuya also didn't know why people were attacking the schools and hurting people. But rather than just resign himself to protecting people as he could, Rust had determination in another way. He wanted to know /why/ they were being attacked. And more than that, he'd already thought of a way to get the answers he needed. Rolento, the man who had "saved" them... yeah. He had to know, didn't he?
The Guardian King hadn't even thought of it.
"That's incredible!" Hakuya pipes up, suddenly dumping his serious expression for his more usual guileless smile and cheerful look. "I hadn't even... I couldn't even turn around and see what we should do in this situation. I just thought we needed to escape." Sure, Hakuya was optimistic, but that was his default mindset. Silver lining, every cloud. But now it wasn't so much as seeing the silver lining, as having the break in the clouds pointed out to him. The place where the sun was shining through. "We need to find out from him... don't we? Yeah..."
Now Hakuya was on the right track. In a way, he was still playing the part of the scout for Daigo. It was just... going to take him a little longer than originally planned, but he was going to get better info.
The truth. Beyond muscles, weapons, and a mastery over the underlying forces of the universe at one's fingertips, that is exactly what they need. The teacher nods his head a couple of times as Hakuya comes to his line of thinking. Believe it or not, this is probably the first time any of these crazy super-powered kid fighters have actually started to see things his way instead of yelling at him, or throwing their fists at him, or throwing their chi at him, or throwing their chi fists at him, or...
Yeah, now's not the time for that. With yet another labored grunt, Pacific's one grown-up fighter gets himself out of the cot to stretch those legs out. Those legs that know when to quit, even if their owner does not seem to know that they want to quit and honestly that's how they got so bad to begin with!!
"Soon as we have that... soon as we have that, maybe we can... we can turn it all around." he points his left index finger at the ground and spins it a couple of times. "I don't know what he's got planned, but... but somewhere... somewhere along the line, we'll find out. That's... that's what I think, if we stick with him. But... uh..."
Back to scratching the back of his head! He tilts said head forward, giving Hakuya a good look at how terrible that combover is. Even at his lowest and weakest, it is as though nature nor malice could find a way to make it even worse. It is the combover that will pierce into the darkness of doubt and reach for the truth... or not, it's just really bad hair. But damned if Mr. Rust hasn't put to use what's inside of the skull that houses such an utter abomination of good taste.
"He said... something about, gathering up people... I don't got shit to, to call anyone with." A deep frown. Rolento wants him some soldiers, or at least some bodies. He must not have a whole lot of faith with just the two of them, but on one Mr. Rust's end, he has no easy way to contact people.
Though he wouldn't say it, Hakuya's acceptance of Rust's line of thought and not rejection of it with fists or chi-fists, is because he's a great deal calmer than Marisol or Luc, and more understanding than Preston, and actually pays attention to things, unlike Pas. So it might come as a surprise when he does think this plan is a good one. It's particularly surprising when a student from /Gedo/ is like this. But Rust's comments just make the young boy smile. "We just need to see what 'the truth' is... then we can see what to do from there. Right?"
"As for finding anyone else... well..." Hakuya frowns a little, and hmms, looking away. "...I could ask the other Kings, or someone from Gedo, but... I think everyone else would be busy with other parts of this 'war'. And... I don't want my friends to be involved with this person," he says. Meaning Rolento. Leaning back on the cot, he links his hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. "I think you and I will be fine... after all, that man is very strong, and he has a large group of people with him. Even if he doesn't use... "good" tactics, he can still help defend." There's a silent uncertainty in the teen's tone of voice there at the end, like he's adding an unspoken 'I guess?'.
"We just have to do our best."
Nobody on his end either... with a kid as good-mannered as that he has to have some strong grown-up friends on his end, like, he doesn't know, his dad, or something, if he's from one of those martial arts families or whatever that Southtown is full of. (Clearly, Mr. Rust hasn't done his homework there.)
Both arms are stretched out, leading into the next couple disturbing joint cracks or what have you as the teacher tries to loosen up his shoulders and back best he can while he's on his feet, which may disrupt Hakuya's dialogue maybe a little. But he's listening. Thinking for alternatives. Regardless of whatever Rolento asks them to do, on the whole, they both look like they're going to be playing this one entirely by ear. Wherever they're deployed, maybe they'll learn something. Maybe Rolento will let something slip. But either way... he's as close as the two of them are going to get to the truth that might help them - and everyone else still fighting the good fight - save Southtown from war.
"I wouldn't... wouldn't ask for any kids to, to end up in any of this." True, it's his job to help prepare children for the real world. This is pretty real. Even among those who have carved incredible paths through the fighting world at a tender young age, the teacher would rather prefer they not have to fight. Leave it to the grown ups. But as it stands, for now, it's just him and the Gedo kid.
At this point, the teacher turns around and kneels down to the ground. The foam ball gets to lie on the cot as his right hand, the poor thing, has to expose itself to a thriving hive of tetanus and maybe some jagged edges and other such unsanitary things... Ol' Rusty.
"If it's, if it's gonna be just the two of us, well... soon as you're ready. Maybe had some of that good soup." He taps the container of water gently, of which he has been confusing for the soup the entire time (truth of the matter is, the water is really nasty tap and unfiltered and so has that really strange taste while the soup is entirely tasteless, how the hell can this guy even think that water is tasty?!). "It's been... been too long. Already feel like, like it's been... uh... months, since Ol' Rusty and I fought together."
He takes a step back, gently resting the current business end of the length of rusted pipe on his right shoulder. "I, uh... I dunno what I can teach you. You look like you know a lot already, but... I've always been good at... at, taking... punches. Knives. Working against... holds. How you should fall so you don't, don't break something... stuff like that, ah... while we got the time. The peace." For a given value of peace, anyway. "I don't mean outright beating the shit out of one another, and... you know. Just... going over what we know, while we're... uh, here."
He can't predict the future, after all. Could be a week. Could be a month. Could be a whole goddamn year. He coughs once, patting his chest gently with his left hand closed into a fist. "Yeah, I'm... I'm pretty messed up, but. We only got three days, and, uh... maybe less?" He doesn't have a watch or any way to even tell the time, and the windows aren't helping any!!
Hakuya simply nods to the return comment given. Most of the people he knows at Gedo are, in fact, just that: kids. Even Daigo, even though it was difficult to think of him as such, particularly how big he was, was only nineteen years of age. One year older than Hakuya himself, only. The rest of his friends were just as old as he was or younger. And so, it would seem, even if it were for different reasons, they both don't think they should do any recruiting. Rolento might not like that... but, well, tough for him!
But then Rust is standing up and... is he offering to fight? Frowning, Hakuya listens to the request fully, so that he can be polite, but as soon as Rust stops talking, the Guardian King is shaking his head. "I don't think you're one hundred percent just yet, sir. Um..." There's a slight trail, as if expecting a name. He doesn't remember Rust's name, if it were ever given! But, even after tht, Hakuya hops off the bed, wincing again as his ribs protest motion, but just powers through it and walks over towards his fellow unwitting conscript.
"My grandpa says the best thing to do when you're wounded is to keep moving. Um... that is, after you're sure you aren't going to bleed out or anything," he says, a touch sheepishly on the last part. "We don't want to reopen your wounds, but if it's just soreness, then when you remain still, your muscles remain stiff, when they yearn to move. Why don't we do something else before then, and instead just do some practice? You know, just doing what I have been?"
He stands next to Rust, and adopts his typical fighting stance. Legs spread, body turned to the side to offer less of a striking area, hands held up, one at his waist, the other extended, both hands open, palms out, almost as if he's seeking to 'draw' someone into him. It's not a striking pose, like karate. It's a thrower's pose. Clearly Hakuya is a grappler.
"Let's try this. Really slow, at first, just to stretch you out. Then we'll move into something faster." Another student like Hakuya would seem almost mocking as he says these things. An older man, taking lessons from a kid? But Hakuya has no such things; if anything, he seems interested in nothing more than helping Rust get better.
Howard may not be a hundred percent, but, he's more used to running well under that than a lot of people may realize - even if the gut he developed from his early 30s onward may paint a somewhat different picture in comparison to how he spent his young adult years. The way he did it is probably not something anyone else should repeat in regards to long term health!
"Yeah... yeah, that's what I mean," the teacher nods his head. His grandpa's a smart one! Hell, when all's said and done maybe he should stop by and say hi. He's fluent enough in Japanese to hang with the old folks without a problem - one of the big reasons he got the teaching job over here. His ability to do so has surprised the locales (and also started a giant internet flame war between MotM fans over how Rust's Japanese VA is so much better than his English one, but that is neither here nor there).
He starts falling into his stance while Hakuya shows his. Mr. Rust's is far more open for sudden movements to his side, though he keeps his sword arm - or pipe arm, to be specific - pointed down and away, knees bent down a little, left side facing the opponent. He grunts yet again as his knee gives him guff. Screw you, knee, you're still his knee, he's not the knee's pet on a leash. (For now.)
"Yeah... sounds, sounds good." He coughs again and, once more, clears his throat. "Ahhh... sorry. Throat gets... gets really dry. I need coffee to... to really get my, my voice and train of thought in, in synch, and... and that sort of thing." He could really go for a whole pot of that. When he gets back to Pacific, if it's still standing, they'd better have one ready for him. Regardless, adopting little pieces of Hakuya's posture, including the little stretches, he begins to work those tired muscles that are in reality communicating the opposite of desiring action, a well-ingrained fear of another long break-less work day of heavy labor along the lot of them. Mr. Rust often swears that his entire body is conspiring against him at any given point of the day. He may be right.
Between the two of them, there's certainly no shortage of notes and wisdom they could trade with one another with the time they have left before Rolento's campaign begins anew, and perhaps with it, the truth. A truth the both of them will reach out towards.
Log created on 22:09:19 04/06/2009 by Rust, and last modified on 04:30:31 04/07/2009.