Description: During a secret operation pursuant to the Black Noah's appearance at Southtown Harbor, Ryouhara Seishirou infiltrated the ship to gather intelligence. But his primary goal was to locate a former guest aboard a ship the Blacknoah has met in the past; the Suiryuu. Alan discovers, much to his ire, that Ryouhara knows much more about the brawler's past than he was ever aware of..
You know what's cool? Smoking! Smoking is super cool, kids, and you should always do it. Look at how cool it makes Alan R.B. look!
Alan R.B., in a rare moment, is caught without anyone to harass for the moment, since people are busy enough that it would probably piss off Rugal if he went and was himself. So, for now, he is maxing and relaxing on the deck of the Black Noah, near the fore or stern or whatever the front is, leaning on the railing with one hand, looking out at Southtown. The wind rustles his nice clothes, but fails to budge his gelled hair, only causing the lightning bolt on the left side of his face to wave back and forth. His other hand is busy with a black and gold cigarette, taking a drag, smoke wafting from the tip and from the corner of his mouth, gliding gently away on the wind. A flash of light glints off his sunglasses.
See? Look at how cool he looks. Man, Alan is a great dude.
Blacknoah is great too.
While the initial efforts to repel it, masterminded by the young Adelheid Bernstein merely proved a distraction, it did allow Seishirou the necessary time to prepare his own methods. A little bit of research into "R" has found that Rugal has been short handed lately in the war scenario. The security detail here seems to have been winnowed to one particular guard. Who is currently on the deck, watching over things and looking cool.
Ryouhara took particular interest in the name.
Things will only get worse from there.
A shadow slides out of the water below. There is no greeting, no clever words, no formal declaration of water. Just a faint light. Then a winding snake made of black fire slides out of the water, boiling steam and baring fangs, extending all the way up the side of the Blacknoah's scarred belly in an eyeblink. Like a vision from a nightmare, it could--and will--wrap around Alan twice without so much as a mild burn on the man if he doesn't think quickly. More silent than death, it would simply make him disappear over the railing in the next moment, a man overboard instantly.
If there's anything Alan has, it's reaction time. One moment, he's there, leaning on the railing, and the next, he's several yards away, one hand down against the deck of the ship, boots still sliding. His cigarette spins abandoned down to the water, and a trail of electricity crackles on the deck.
The boxer's hands dip to his belt as he stands, putting on his iron rings. Still, surprise is on his face, mouth hanging open just slightly as he looks out at the railing. He instinctively relaxes, getting ready for a fight, chi starting to crackle across his clothes. Against his better judgement, he cups one hand to his mouth.
"Hey, jackass! How about you do this like a real man, unless that's all you can bring to the table? It's alright if you're just a punk, but I'll sure enjoy beating your face in less!"
The fire snake is massive. A man-eater in its own right, with a mouth at least one and a half times the size of your head now. A long trailing beard hangs from its lower jaw, passing vaguely for a chin. Looping around air, it whips back over the edge, only getting so far as out in the void before uncoiling and rising angrily in the air, presenting fangs forged of pure heat, radiating in suppressed smoke trails as it hisses.
The sound of steam from a vent, angry and long.
"It's been some time..." a darkened, youthful voice figures, echoing from every direction in a central Japanese dialect; a linguist would recognize it as a particularly urban Nanshin.
The initial move failed. Not that it mattered, save for privacy and discretion. It didn't really matter to someone like him where the battle was staged--be it in the waters or in Rugal's own parlor. They'd need more troops than they had to take him down. Alan was the only threat; but for someone like him, trapping him in the water might have been decisive from there. Lucky for him then his eyes are as fast as his mouth, nn?
"That time long ago where even you were fighting for that legendary recompense.."
The mystic snake lowers beyond the edge of the railing for a moment, to sink fangs into the boards. Though Alan would not have felt a burn for an instant, those fangs carve steel, peculiar lines trailing across the panelling as the sinuous body of fire curves, winding muscular lengths over the edge of the railing.
Finally... the nin arrives.
Seishirou Ryouhara stands as if needing no landhold on a length of black fire that coils in the air, the body of that snake now laboring to lift his body into the sky. The fire slides from his right sleeve, presumably at some point beyond that holy white haori he wears, but truthfully neverending. Arms limp at his sides, he looks upon Alan.
"...But even then operating as a plant for the organization that would have thought to take everything from my cherished proleteriat. Na?"
The body coils, moving Seishirou without any apparent direction from the shinobi. That body lowers over the railing, offering him the deck. A single step accepts the offer, footing made with only the faint sound of padding upon steel. The boy's eyes shoot dead forward, truthfully through Alan, as if nothing existed to him at all. The snake.. coils once around him in a loose circle, seeming shorter now than it was a moment ago, eyes seeming to see nothing but throats as it raises, hissing that unearthly sound again just behind Ryouhara.
"Lay down your heart as you know it, and surrender."
He only asks once.
COMBATSYS: Seishirou has started a fight here.
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Seishirou 0/-------/------=|
COMBATSYS: Alan has joined the fight here.
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Alan 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Seishirou
About halfway through, Alan R. B. shows his disrespect, lifting up his right hand and opening and closing in the classic 'blah blah blah' gesture. He won't deny the impressiveness of the entrance, but Alan has seen his fair share.
Once, Akuma walked out of the ocean and broke his legs. He's a little jaded.
"What's the name again... Ryaharo? Something like that? Whatever, Paul, listen. I don't care about your nonsense. What is this, you connected with the Boss's kid or are you just figuring to work out an old grudge against me?" Alan cracks his knuckles, rolls his neck, and lifts his right hand.
"'course, I don't care either way, man, no matter what fancy words you're gonna use to talk about it. The point HERE is that you just rolled up on this boat, and by rolling up on this boat, you're rolling up on my bank account. That's a bad idea." Electric chi spirals up Alan's right arm, crackling into a ball between his forefinger and thumb. With a rapid movement, he swings down, snapping his fingers and sending a bolt of lightning sizzling through the air at the mysterious ninja, immediately stepping forward and whipping that same hand across, snapping again. "Strike! Twice! Bring it all to the table, come on!"
5r
COMBATSYS: Seishirou blocks Alan's Lightning Strikes Twice.
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Alan 0/-------/------=|==-----\-------\0 Seishirou
Display?
Ryouhara steps forward, the snake's coils worming against eachother. Scales would grind together, except there are no scales; its skin is made of seared wind and its heart of fire. Truthfully, he evinces no displeasure from Alan's disrespect. For the longest time, his lip doesn't even twitch. He looks at Alan as if his eyes were daggers since he were born.
You see, while Alan has been fortunate to have seen some things and survived, Seishirou has seen hundreds of Alan's exact type, and been harried in the exact same fashions. Seishirou would need two hands to recount that exact gesture made to him before. He recalls only a half of their names... and Alan will be hard pressed to hurt him more than those men have.
...Finally, he smiles, faintly.
"My name.. isn't important now. After we're done... ask me again, with earnestness."
He looks up slightly as Alan moves, electric force crackling down his arm. The smile fades in time enough to be considered a vagary of perception, transcending to a dire shadowed gaze, not perceivable at that distance. The blast flickers bright against the deck as it chases through the air at impossible speeds for the ninja sheathed in white. He twitches slightly.
And the snake's coils raise, whirling around in a flash of light as that electric force splashes against it. Not once, but twice, the blurred speed of the snake's skin almost making it difficult to see the bolts tear away its skin, sending electric impulses crackling up and down the monster creature's length. The attack is undone in that work of dual whirling coils. But a twinge of that electric impulse dances off of Seishirou's fingers as he stares ahead evenly.
"....Come now. For someone who talks so boldly, you should face me with your full strength. Do you have the ideal necessary to fight me? Or are you afraid?" His challenge goads as easily as it points out the obvious; attacking Seishirou directly with that snake wrapped around him would have been plainly dangerous. Alan cannot be expected to be an idiot.
As if to oblige, the snake falls from the ninja's sleeve, burning into a smouldering ash at his feet as it's unsealed.
"Show me more than that," Seishirou asks plainly.
"Show me what your bank account even means to you.."
COMBATSYS: Seishirou calculates his next move.
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Alan 0/-------/------=|==-----\-------\0 Seishirou
Alan has a kind of directed apathy about life that makes it hard for him to care enough about what's going to happen for him to even manage to feel fear. Just about the only thing that really evokes a reaction is doing what Seishirou is doing now, threatening the livelihood he's thrust himself into - that only makes him mad. He challenges Alan to show him something, and the boxer responds by not moving at all.
...no, really not moving. He's completely motionless.
All at once, the Alan that Seishirou sees standing there on the deck of the Black Noah collapses into a mass of sparks, the afterimage of the chi crackling around his skin giving way, electricity dancing in a zig-zag pattern across the ground. Seishirou can probably follow the pattern and see the blurry, incredibly fast form of Alan R.B. racing at him in a wide, circular path, suddenly dirverting and darting right for him. He hops up onto the railing, racing across it with perfect balance before dropping down, trying to rake his fist across Seishirou's face when he passes by. "Enough of this psychological shit!" He pivots on his heel, twitching his head to fling his shades off his face, and gives Seishirou a hard look. The crackling electricity has intensified. "Lookin' down your goddamn nose at me like I'm just your average punk. Some of us gotta live in the real world, we can't afford to get all fucking fancy!"
COMBATSYS: Alan successfully hits Seishirou with Light Punch.
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Alan 0/-------/------=|===----\-------\0 Seishirou
Across the way, Ryouhara might be a grandiose mirror of Alan, as the boxer stands shock still, so does he, his hands going unseen beneath his sleeves. Silence reigns there for a moment that seems to stretch off into infinity, the boy watches Alan impassively, his eyes half-lidded not with laziness, but with a reticence that seemingly cannot consider the person in front of him as particularly impressive in any vein or factor. Then again, why would he go out of his way at all, if there was truly nothing to see?
Then, it all explodes into motion.
"You competed in that tournament the same as everyone else. You should know.. everyone in this world is born as nothing. With no name, no value. Men may ascribe to them value based on breeding, but that value is illusory."
He speaks those words while idly spitting blood from his mouth. True that Alan simply left little opportunity to defend, Ryouhara saw it, but oddly simply did not move. Frowning at the blood left on his hand, he whips it to the side, scattering the crimson on the deck, sheathing his arm once again. "..In the end," he mutters, his voice dropping the pretense of pristine judgment, "we're all average punks until we prove that we're something more."
While Alan moved like lightning, Seishirou doesn't even move at all.
He is simply there, matching Alan's position until his shadow eclipses him, drifting in the air for one sickening moment, his haori drifting behind him as if engulfed in a massive gale. He tries to just knock Alan down with sheer force and momentum, slamming a knee roughly into his neck with the landing impact to hold him still for just a moment.
"I think it's just the opposite. Making excuses...dismissing idealism."
He frowns darkly.
"I don't think you live in the real world at all!!"
COMBATSYS: Alan blocks Seishirou's Random Combo.
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Alan 0/-------/--=====|==-----\-------\0 Seishirou
The force blasts against Alan, who crosses his arms up in front of him, boots sliding back as he stands his ground. The hard look turns into a scowl, and he develops a tic at the corner of one eye. "Whatever. I guess when it gets right down to it..." Seishirou's knee hits him, and he stumbles a step back - but already starts moving again, jumping up, leg swinging out around him. "The real world's whatever we decide it is, huh?"
More electricity builds up around his left leg, pooling in his heel. He comes around once, a spin-kick instead of the usual flip, bearing right down at the side of his face. "Ring!" He continues swinging up, the second kick chopping down: "Of!" The final kick is more standard, a forward somersault driving his heel at the top of Seishirou's head. "THUNDER!"
His foot slams into the ground hard after this, spreading a shockwave around the ground, and he throws himself back, doing a flip to get a little distance. This is a different Alan than the one anyone can see by renting a Saturday Night Fight DVD or scanning Youtube. His eyes are narrowed, showing his teeth in a snarl instead of a sneer, hands clenched with white knuckles behind his iron rings. Whatever Seishirou said to set him off, it really flicked a switch. He rolls one shoulder.
COMBATSYS: Seishirou dodges Alan's Ring of Thunder.
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Alan 0/-------/--=====|==-----\-------\0 Seishirou
Ryouhara bounces off of Alan's guard. Truthfully, most of the ninja's weight was accounted for in the bevy of devices he carried with him at all times, a value of weight that had become lighter lately. The boxer was heavier than he'd accounted for, his knee not entirely making it on to crush the man's windpipe.
The shinobi lands on the deck hard.
It matters for little.
Alan's leg cuts through Ryouhara like mist. Slipping to the side, the shinobi's silhouette becomes indistinct, the only thing absorbing damage from the boxer being the draperies of that white haori Seishirou wears, arcs of electricity crackling in the air after Alan's devastating kicks, but never quite making it to Ryouhara's body. Of more important, he senses the fervor with which the boxer was fighting him. He could sense something there.. Sublimated by that alone, he stands up straight as Alan leaps back. Though his mannerisms are often grandiose, the look he gives Alan is without succor, without a clever hidden meaning to hide behind. Eyes sharp but there is no passion as there was a moment ago. It is the baleful glare of a man who has ceased to exist.
His voice is frozen in ice.
"...Is that something you learned from Tricia?"
Distance? The last scion of Ryouhara steps the distance between them trivially; in an eyeblink, Seishirou is gone. He whips his leg straight up, aiming at the back (!) of the boxer's skull.
COMBATSYS: Alan fails to interrupt Medium Strike from Seishirou with Voltaic Barrage.
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Alan 1/-----==/=======|===----\-------\0 Seishirou
He says that name, and Alan's already moving. He charges forward before Seishirou's attack even comes, trailing chi as his hands start to stab out, moving fast enough to create afterimages exponentially - it's like he has fifty fists, all charging for the Ryouhara's face. "GET OUT OF MY PAST!" he shrieks, voice cracking. Unfortunately, the moment of windup before he can do this is all Seishirou needed to slip right behind him.
The ninja's foot cracks against the back of his head, and the fists collapse into sparks as he staggers forward, almost falling to the deck, stopping himself with a hand. Electricity keeps crackling across his skin - the power he didn't have until he let go of his life. His other hand lifts up, and slams into the deck of the Black Noah, driving a dent into it with a crash of thunder. He does it again, and again, leaving a bloody smear and a ringing in the ears.
A delicate-looking silver bracelet falls from his sleeve, hanging loosely around his wrist. Alan lifts his arm as he stands, letting it settle snugly around his forearm. Blood drips from the boxer's knuckles and down the back of his neck, staining his blonde hair. He turns around, power crackling down his arms, his legs, his entire body.
"Back off that road."
His eyes linger on that silver bracelet.
The shinobi watches Alan as if witnessing an execution, his haori drifting in the stale wind that curls past the desk of the ship. He seems almost cruel, as he continues. "You gave me your past when you decided to stand against me meaninglessly." After all. Anyone who competed in that tournament was looked into closely. In truth, "R"s invasion may or may not have been foreseen.
He steps forward.
"You can't lay down, but are you really your own man? Do you honestly believe the pretense of a real world somehow explains your simpering for your loss?"
He frowns, distastefully.
"It doesn't work that way."
He draws the sword Senchakiri from a holster at his back, an odd geometric weapon with one of the sharpest blades known to man forged as its edge. "All that is," Ryouhara murmurs, whirling the length of steel into a false-handed grip as if he intended to stab with it overhand as a knife. And then he moves, flying forward and cutting--not fully into Alan, he's taken off the arms of men twice Alan's strength with this sword before--but merely with the tip of the blade, the sword settling at his hip in the whipping motion, as if Ryouhara intended to sheathe it.
A perfect arc of flayed steel appears in the deck before Seishirou.
If he misses, he will hit nothing but that deck. If he hits, he will open Alan perfectly.
If he hits exactly as he intends, he'll have sliced the bracelet right off Alan's wrist.
".. Is an excuse for your own weakness."
COMBATSYS: Seishirou successfully hits Alan with Senchakiri.
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Alan 2/<<<<<<</<<<<<<<|====---\-------\0 Seishirou
The bracelet parts, and before anything else can happen, Alan's left hand twitches, catching the bracelet before it can slip down, holding it in a tight, white-knuckled grip.
Then, of course, skin parts along the line of the cut, red blood - even his blood is crackling with chi - spurting out. He cries out and falls to a knee, but he keeps that chain in a deadman's grip, even as his arm bleeds. He pushes back to his feet. "Money..."
He gives Seishirou a bitter look, right arm relaxing, electricity whirling down into it. "Money's everything in this world." He takes a step forward. "Can you believe it? Heh... all you need is money. They say money can't buy so much, but that's bullshit. Money brings you friends and happiness - it ain't fake if it's happening. Money lets you do whatever you want." His fists tighten. "Money lets you decide who lives and who dies. You've had a weirder life than me, but have you ever had to do that? Ever had to watch someone wither away just because your wallet wasn't full to bursting?"
Roughly, Alan R. B. shoves the bracelet into his pocket, and takes one step back. "You think I'm doin' all of this for myself?! These clothes, the lifestyle, it's just to fit in! Where the hell do you think all my money goes?!"
He keeps it quiet. Most fighters make a lot of noise about throwing money at hospitals and charities.
Alan charges, leaping into the air, going into a rapid spiral. The deck of the Black Noah lights up like day as he comes crushing in, all of the electricity swirling into his fists. "DON'T YOU GIVE ME THIS SHIT ABOUT WEAKNESS! WHAT THE FUCK ELSE IS THERE FOR ME WHEN MONEY'S ALL THERE IS?!"
"MJOLNIR!!"
His hands crack down at Seishirou's head, preceded by a massive wave of thunder and lightning. Lights shatter on the deck, and the steel melts and flows. The power hurls Alan back, dripping blood with him, and he still manages to land perfectly straight, boots clicking together - but then he wavers, hunching over. The lightning starts trickling back in in fits and starts.
COMBATSYS: Seishirou endures Alan's Mjolnir.
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Alan 0/-------/---====|=======\-------\0 Seishirou
The blade of the tea cutting sword surpasses all limits in edge. Even the faintest brush with its tip opens the guts of whales. It is an edge that does not truly need to 'touch' to slice. It is why that shinobi pauses mid-cut, lifting the blade in his hand like some obscene wing, the toll of the iron chain hanging from its fitting cap ringing dull in the dead air. It is truly the first distinctive noise that blade made at all--suggesting some kind of silencing technique being used on the part of the shinobi.
Crouched low to the ground, Ryouhara's dark hair falls in waves, his eyes hidden beneath the fringe of black stranding. He breathes evenly, but isn't jostled by Alan's revelation, taking it in. He is silent for some time in that still winged pose, and when he speaks, he does so in low tonal that barely moves him.
"....So the one important to you died a pointless death."
Ryouhara glances up as Alan rips through the sky to crash into him. THe white sleeve of his haori raises at the last instant before the deckplates give beneath the overhead smash, stirring up a flush of glowing hot steel with Ryouhara's snarl of pain clearly audible even in the thunderblast that rips the plates open around him, to say nothing of his body. But it is even before the dust clears that Ryouhara responds, black cords whipping through the air to encircle Alan, crossing the boundary of angry red his blast stirred. They'll anchor in the ground if nothing is to happen. If they encircle him, they'll hold fast, twisting around limbs and body until Alan is no good to move in any direction at all.
"Nonsense."
His lips move slowly, forming each word thoughtfully. "So you understand the nature of loss." In only a moment, Ryouhara's noticeably injured, his body bleeding from a thousand and one places, his nerves numb and his haori scorched black in the searing energy exhange. "You know your nature and your curse." The cables slip out from his left sleeve, allowing him to stand with applied tension. "Knowing the things closest to you are doomed is a fate in itself harsher than death," he admits. "But then what will you do? Entrust that vaunted money of yours to the same misbegotten system that consigned your spirit to die?"
Somehow, he seems unimpressed.
"Did you imagine you were the only one who has tasted loss?" he asks simply, but seems not to want to elaborate further. "People like you and I don't exist. Not anymore. We know it is the nature of things to die. But the meaning of their existence is more important than any other thing. What is the meaning you've chosen for that woman?" he asks simply, as if not wishing to repeat her name again. As if revering that memory.
"If it is your intention to pay tribute to cause, pay tribute to me. I am the thing that will change the world for the ghosts of the past." He leaps, as if flying. As if to take Alan into the air with him on the ends of those cables. His movement is blinding fast, whipping back and attempting to just launch Alan like a rock loosed from a sling at the crater beneath him. A crater that is now emblazoned with the massive family seal of Ryouhara, three swirling leaves bordered by that angry circle of what is now understood to be Seishirou's own chi, gathering force.
Ryouhara would slam him into the deck without another thought.
And engulf the boxer in a tactical sealed chi explosion.
"Pay tribute--by laying down to defeat!"
COMBATSYS: Seishirou successfully hits Alan with Ryuuouin.
- Power hit! -
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Alan 2/<<<<<<</<<<<<<<|=======\=------\1 Seishirou
Alan immediately starts to move with the cords coming for him, twisting along with them, hands and feet launching out to brush against them, push off, and start to rise above them. It almost works... but the chi is gone. With electricity only crackling through Alan in fits and starts, he can't pull out his ridiculous reflexes and speed. Blood pounding in the back of his head, he fights against impossible odds to whirl above the cords - until one lashes out, tapping against his ankle, and immediately snaring from there. Alan's vest flies open as he's yanked down, the cables quickly accepting him into their embrace like lost love. The electricity finally returns too late - and every time Alan relaxes, trying to overload everything, the cables slip tighter.
With a jerk, the boxer tears his chin free, letting him say one last thing, as Ryouhara lifts him up. "I do what I can do, y'know... and I'm gettin' a headache, kid." The sneer returns, but a weak one. His chest is heaving, and something glistens near his eyes which is probably sweat, let's go with that. He looks drained from his outburst more than from the Mjolnir.
Just before he impacts the sealed crater (what) he slips one more thing out.
"Do a dumb thug a favor and say what you /really/ mean."
He immediately thinks his spine has cracked as he slams back-first into the damaged deck of the Black Noah, only to be immediately consumed by the chi explosion. No lightning bolts come jumping up out of the blast, no final spiteful punch. When everything clears, he's barely concious, trying to roll over, left hand stuffed into his pocket again.
COMBATSYS: Alan takes no action.
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Seishirou 1/------=/=======|
COMBATSYS: Alan can no longer fight.
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Seishirou 1/------=/=======|
And with that one thunderous explosion, one of Rugal's is down. Part of the plan from the beginning in truth; deal with "R" one at a time, so that that plan of Adelheid's would be successful. Seishirou had no illusion of failure in his own mission here; deal with the secondary threats as they presented themselves before the main attack came. His skill is enough to settle that nigh bloodlessly. But that's not why he elected to show himself to Alan. Adelheid doesn't ever make the mistake of assuming he commands Ryouhara Seishirou.
This was to satisfy his need to know.
The fire sealing jutsu Ryuuouin was the assassination seal invented by Ryouhara when he was only slightly above Alan's skill level; since then, he's improved on the technique. Still, most people who saw it even then didn't get to see it a second time. It's a testament to Alan's strength that he's even still breathing. The shinobi lands on deck as if floating, his haori drifting as he less makes impact and more alights gently on the wrecked plate, as if no more than the draping silk he wears. No more than a ghost.
He advances silently, silks dancing in the wind.
He steps slowly to the edge of that crater, likely deepened from the consequtive blasts to the point where the forward deck has been punctured. His body at the top of that gaping chasm is only a black silhouette against the light. But his gaze; chillingly without judgment, can be felt.
It is a simple request.
But not from a simple man.
"Is it your desire to live underneath the heel of the black king forever...?"
A moment passes.
"...Or do you still desire something more?"
Initially, Alan smoulders for a bit. His nice clothes are ruined, and maybe he'll undergo a costume change after this. Maybe he won't. These things happen mysteriously.
Then, he starts to lift his head, cracking one eye open, too weak to make it a glare or a blank stare or anything other real expression. His mouth starts to open.
Indecision promptly seizes him. Alan is not the kind of man who can really make a decision at this point, at least not readily. He's settled himself into a rut, constantly running forward, never looking back... because when he looks back he remembers that he would have had a nice, happy life, without worrying about any of the things we worry about. For a moment, he remembers lying on his back on the sparse vegetation of Nevada, hands behind his head, looking up at clouds scudding across the sky. Alan tilts his head to the side.
Nothing greets him but ruined deck, the silhouette of Seishirou, and a sky that threatens to storm. He tries to say something again, but only manages to cough as his head sinks back down, mouth twisting into into a bitter, resigned smirk.
"Hnf."
The sound is fast, and decisive. Not without its tinge of icy bitter, but as always with Seishirou, his mannerisms always mean more than one thing. He turns away, his eyes settling on the far horizon. The wind, stirred from the repeated blasts and the burgeoning storm, chill his wounded cheek, catch his bangs and hair. The entire conflict only took minutes. It would not be long until some sort of response became inevitable. He wasn't concerned before. But now.. timing was crucial.
"There will be no rest for you, you know. There is no honor in escapism."
Seishirou takes a single step.
"Such a cruel world we ghosts live in..."
He begins to walk away.
"When you make that decision... come stand before me."
"Stand before me in the forgotten city of Taizhou.."
Log created on 20:24:28 04/19/2009 by Seishirou, and last modified on 23:55:46 06/23/2009.