Description: Hope is returning to Southtown. A city turned desolate battlefield, where the homeless outnumber the housed, begins to suggest the possibility of home once more. Alma Towazu, returning from a successful minor mission to the Futaba Estate, has helped to shift the tides-- but he has not yet found the revelation he has been seeking, and it comes to him now in the form of the one man he could not have dared to hope to see again. K', vagrant assassin turned erstwhile vigilante, reveals both what he knows and the incredible strength he has gained with a finally growing sense of self-worth-- and Alma is given what he never needed, let alone hoped for: proof that his inexplicable yet unconditional faith in K' was justified all along.
Change is in the air.
Air that has for weeks been stale with the choking haze of battle, an invisible but palpable pressure that seems to compress the sky into a caricature of itself, as though the residents of Southtown were so cut off from the world that even the heavens they gaze upon are not what others see. A desperate fight no longer seems so, the gains of the defenders no longer so tenuous and marginal. At first those who sought to protect their home had no equal to the war machine of the invaders; now the efforts of the invaders appear unsustainable, that machine creaking in want of repairs that cannot be made, surely soon to screech to a halt. The context has shifted; the circumstances have changed. Where only the brave or foolish could dare to hope, hope is stirring anew.
Alma Towazu breathes deeply of this new air, tasting acutely what even the least sensitive can feel, and no longer feels as tired as he is, trudging with the steady determination of an officer through the half-reconstructed gates to the Futaba Estate. Though his tailored outfit loses some of its elegance with dust and dispair, the poised young man wears it like a statement, one that his clear and mild eyes reinforce. Unbroken in the face of numerous losses, he and Kentou had led a precision strike that returned Frei to their care and spurred on a number of small successes that pry finger by finger the callous grip of their enemies from Southtown's streets. Though he has not heard from his sworn brother since their last encounter and though he knows not the fate of the sister he failed to protect, the beautiful young man has nevertheless given himself no time to rest, constantly arranging and then completing missions to further the goals of the ex-YFCC unit. Even after wearying weeks have passed, still the gentle psychic continues to employ his passion in the name of war, his formidable conviction enduring in his assumed role of vigilante soldier. All of them have shown infinite virtue in their struggles, but as the director of their fallen center, it is his courage, Alma knows, that will set the example for them all. He can see no possible excuse for forsaking that responsibility.
But if it is his sense of responsibility that has brought him unflinching through profound loss and near-death experiences, then he must pay the price for that strength as well. The demands of integrity are more than just taking on the role of a living symbol; he cannot harness the power of his heart only to deny it the fuel it needs. More concretely, as Alma himself is reflecting as he seats himself on the edge of the stone fountain that still survives in the courtyard, there is much he has not yet done when it comes to his own personal goals. Chaos provides opportunity, and he will fail not only if he allows the defenders to fail but if he does not confront the dilemma that plagued him before his conflict even began. K' cast out of Southtown by Geese Howard; the YFCC indebted to Howard Enterprises. Who is this Geese Howard? Now that Alma, once all too private despite his sincerity, has stepped fully into the political realm as nominal head of the YFCC, he must confront a truly morally ambiguous situation. Yet the intuition that he can never deny has for weeks been itching at a resolution. He is convinced that Geese Howard is closely tied up in these affairs, in a manner that, should he learn the truth, would absolve the YFCC of responsibility to that man and allow Alma to act so as to protect his friends, to raise the YFCC into a force all its own that could oppose the more selfish interests in this city. This is his chance; this is his test. Can it be done? Perhaps the center should remain in a marginal role; Alma is not himself an ambitious man. But-- if it is to achieve its goals, and if Alma is to function as its head, that no longer seems tenable.
Whatever happens, he won't run away. He needs to not only fight for justice; he needs to forge towards the truth. To protect his friends. To be himself, and accept the yearnings of his heart.
Exhaling heavily, the androgynous model tilts his gaze up toward a sky that seems, somehow, clearer than the day before, and allows the ghost of a smile to rise to his lips.
It's hard, but...
Things seem about to change.
Hours have passed since Marise executed her exceedingly reluctant healing of Hotaru. The girl subsequently having slipped into a deep and regenerative sleep, K' swiftly grew restless with lingering around and took his leave of her room. Some time was spent in cleaning his injuries, binding his wounds, and changing his bloody clothes. Some time was spent in dozing for the first time in two days. But all too soon, K' realized that he had run out of procrastinatory measures to keep him in this sanctuary.
In searching the city for Hotaru, K' had also seen indications of Ikari presence. The young man was unsurprised; he would have been -more- surprised if Heidern had failed to act upon the information K' had given him with regards to the Syndicate. However, knowledge that Ikari was operating within the city brought with it one obvious realization: his sister was likely deployed here as well.
There were a number of things he wanted to ask about... though, he supposed, it wasn't really important to discuss what Big had said. The man, as far as K' was concerned, was dead for saying such a thing in the first place, true or untrue. He wanted, at the least, to find her-- to see her and know that she was all right-- but he expected that she would be as infuriatingly difficult to find as she always has been. Ultimately, he finds himself forced to soothe himself with the mantra 'no news must be good news.' Certainly Heidern would have informed him if something had happened to her. He was her -blood-.
His mind turns to other things as he paces down the largely-empty hallways. With all of this behind him-- with his sister reluctantly trusted to the Ikari-- he could think about the vengeance he had intended to take over the course of this entire fiasco. Against Howard, against NESTS. Which one he pursued first, he ruminated, would depend on how the 'war' went in the next short while. It would depend on which seemed weaker. K' is nothing if not an efficient predator, after all, and hunters are opportunists.
Still musing over what he's seen of the respective sides in the past few days, K' lets himself out onto the small porch just outside the front door. The young man might not immediately be recognized, his usual intimidating style of dress absent-- changed for an altogether ordinary white t-shirt and battered dark jeans-- but then again, the shock of white hair is hard to miss. At first, it seems he just wants a breath of fresh air... and then, he rather derails the idea of 'fresh air' by pulling out a cigarette and quietly lighting up.
Moment by moment, the world is seeming less constricted, the sky more open, broadening into possibilities once taken for granted. Alma listens to the faint trickling of the water behind him, closing his eyes against the sun to allow the sound to wash through him, and feels restored in a way impossible mere days before. The water calls up memories, familiar and comforting, that in a city where homelessness has become the norm reminds one that the ideal called home still survives. This wartorn place is no longer so foreign, so alienating, so desolate. Moments like these, where Alma can afford to recall that he is not only a warrior but a human, are becoming more frequent, and in every encounter with tranquility he becomes more confident that he will someday soon be allowed to be a human again.
The psychic is, perhaps strangely, not usually given to hope, if only because he is ever more interested in the present than the future. The world as it is right now is vibrant and meaningful enough, he believes, that one can focus on engaging with and improving it without pinning one's fulfillment on successful results. But sometimes, just as memories of the past make the present what it is, so does hope for the future empower the moment. Thus a young man more given to bringing salvation to others feel his spirit swell with the sense that he himself will be saved, that the future he desires can be achieved with no ideal undermined and no heartfelt obligation abandoned.
Alma feels ready to fight again.
And so, exhibiting the resolve that has put his subordinates in awe before, after mere moments of rest the once-fatigued angel of the YFCC rises smoothly to his feet, as though having remembering something he had planned to do, refreshed and beginning to consider already what their next mission to be. But a familiar consciousness is beginning to intrude on his perception, and he is soon derailed, blinking in surprise as his subconscious churns with recognition. There are only so many with that kind of aura, what he has described before as that of the 'hollow man', and fewer still that burn so brightly in defiance, but this presence is a far cry from Jiro Kasagi's. But this--
Could it be?
Slowly he turns, the gorgeous half-Japanese's eyes slightly widened, gazing over his shoulder through a stray red-tinged bang.
"...K'?"
He breathes the name more than speaks it.
"How...?"
And then all at once a smile blooms, as he turns fully and begins to approach his long-lost erstwhile ally, his usual poised gait buoyed by an innocent joy that sparkles in his hazel eyes. "K'! You're... here!" He cannot begin to imagine anyone he would rather meet here. To think that he had been in Southtown already-- "I was so worried about you." A confession that might be gushing or awkward from any other lips (particularly male lips) is spoken with his usual gentle forthrightness, honest feelings for the white-haired man unabashedly revealed in words and expression. "After Shurui told me that Howard had expelled you from Southtown, I... well..."
Felt powerless. But no longer.
"We've been fighting hard. If you're here, I imagine you know all about it," he continues, returning to his usual sedate tone, slipping one hand into the pocket of his now-battered designer jeans as he comes to a stop at the base of the porch, looking up at the elusive assassin he considers friend. "There's still little we understand about the conflict as a whole, but it seems clear that the invading forces can't sustain their grip much longer. A few more successful missions and I believe we'll be able to bring about a decisive battle on our own terms..."
He shrugs slightly, warmly glittering eyes and small smile revealing his awareness of the unusual position he has found himself in. Clearly, Alma has been playing general while K' has been away.
"I'm glad you're safe," he continues after a moment, voice softer. "I knew you'd be alright. Still, I'm sorry I couldn't have come to find you. It's only recently we've gotten a handle on things here, and the abduction of our fellows hasn't made the fight any easier." Pausing, lips tightening, Alma averts his eyes in a rare display of what seems, at the very least, frustration. "...Hotaru may still be missing."
When he speaks again, his gaze does not return immediately to K''s own, looking away instead to the horizon off to his side. "K', I am certain you have your own reasons for being here. But-- I think you may also have a better idea of what is going on here than I. I have my suspicions. Assuming we can win here--" Though he appears more distant, there is no lack of confidence in those words. "--I have realized that only if I know the truth will I be able to protect the YFCC..."
Only here do his eyes return to K''s own.
"...and those dear to me."
Those eyes, though soft and mild, show clearly the shining core within.
"K', what do you know?"
A yellow eye turns towards Alma the instant the other begins to move towards K'. The glance is at first harsh and guarded, but once recognition sets in, suspicion fades to neutrality. With a thin sort of tolerance, K' weathers Alma's greetings, expressions of worry, and gladness. Most might have been offended by such undemonstrativeness; but Alma would have the perception to be aware that K''s silence is not necessarily one of anger, but merely one that waits patiently for a point to which the unemotional creature feels comfortable to respond.
Alma expresses surprise that K' is here, despite Geese's mandates. K' smiles humorlessly around his cigarette, the expression-- as most of his looks are-- very brief. "I'm not that good at following rules. His mistake leaving me alive." A long breath gusts a stream of smoke. "But it's not like I'm gonna die the minute I get thrown out of this city. Not like you were obligated to find me. Had someplace to go."
A shoulder lifts in an amused shrug. "Turned out in the end that this city was actually the least safe place to be. Did me a favor throwing me out."
Alma launches into an appraisal of the situation. K' watches him out of the corner of one eye, his gaze direct and impassive. "I know enough. Maybe more than most people." Letting a long sigh go, K' shifts to lean against the railing of the porch. "Would you understand the conflict more if I told you Geese Howard ran the Syndicate? If I told you all the other criminal cartels-- Shadaloo, NESTS, R-- were here to take him down?" K''s gaze flicks away. He's quiet a moment, a frown weighing his brows, before he admits, "...But I don't know what brought them all here. What made them all choose to do this, other than the appeal of getting Geese out of the picture. Assumed each of them were promised a cut of Southtown-- test subjects, money, whatever-- but I don't know who did the promising."
No. Nobody ever does suspect Kain R. Heinlein.
There's a long pause. K''s eyes turn away, flicking to one side to avoid looking at Alma's frustrations. There's one last thing Alma's wondering that K' can elucidate, but the young man is slow to bring it up; as if his involvement could somehow paint him 'weak.' But finally, eventually, K' relieves Alma's concern. He says slowly, "Hotaru is upstairs. I brought her here last night."
Alma takes a shallow, ragged breath.
"Geese Howard... runs the Syndicate..."
He can't but repeat the words, neither with disbelief or wonderment but the simple effort of recognizing such a staggering truth. Even as K' continues, the beautiful youth's mind is reeling with the revelation. Of course; now everything makes sense. That was the last piece of the puzzle he needed. Now all he needs is--
"Evidence."
He lowers his head but not his gaze, looking up at K' through thick blond lashes. "Before this war is over," he continues quietly, almost solemnly, "I will gather all the evidence I am able of Howard's relation to these criminal enterprises, even if I must plunge into the Tower myself to do so. I intend on safeguarding the Center and its potential." It doesn't necessarily matter to Alma who brought these dark forces together; what matters, besides the dispersal of said forces, is that he finds proof of this motivation for their amassing. "When we remake Southtown after the flames of battle have been extinguished, the city will be a better place for it. This... I swear."
That alone would be enough to steel Alma's resolve beyond imagining, igniting a righteous spirit that now surely will never die. The simple fact that K' has offered, so obvious yet so well-guarded, has been the game-changing knowledge that Alma has craved. Now he is ready for certain-- ready for the final showdown. Yet K' has even more to offer him, a beam of new light piercing through a soul already alive with a noble fire.
"Hotaru--"
Alma's chin jerks up, his eyes widening again. Now disbelief really does seem evident in his gaze, at least in the brief moment before he regards K' with an obvious new respect, swallowing quietly as he spends several long moments in silent recognition of what this man has done for him: made up for his own failure, rescued a young woman as close to him as a sister.
"...K'..."
Alma's eyes are so soft as to seem pained.
"...thank you."
He almost reaches out, so moved is he, and slows to a stop only out of respect for the unemotional man's carefully cultivated private space. He stands there, hand half-outstretched, not so close as to threaten actual contact, but his instinctive attempt to close that gap unabashedly obvious. It was not an effort to reach out; it was a simple automatic recognition of a truth already extant.
for Alma, in this moment, there is no real gap between them.
A warm silence follows, reigning alongside its tranquil queen, the faint murmur of that sparkling fountain, in a sweet kingdom of trust that might serve as home for the homeless.
"...K'."
The bronze-skinned blond grins as his hand slowly lowers back to his side, eyes clearer and brighter than they have been in weeks.
"Spar with me."
A bizarre request for any other man. But for these past weeks, combat, a spiritual experience for this young man, has truly been a matter of life and death. Never has he lost his value for that 'clash of souls', despite the painful reality he has been forced to confront; after all, for him this intimate ideal is not a luxury but a kind of existential necessity, and one useful in these dire straits, not to be abandoned when inconvenient. Even when he faced Foxy for the fate of the YFCC itself he did not lose his love of the fight, of the glory of human striving. But he has not had time for his own innocent. Here, feeling such love and respect for this man, he feels that strange urge to express his feelings through violence that comes more naturally to those versed in the language of battle.
"Before this war enters its decisive stage..."
His smile is broad, but his eyes are gentle.
"...let me feel those flames of yours once more."
K'...
~ I am so happy to have believed in you. ~
K' casts Alma a sharp look at his resolution to remake Southtown as a better place. He expected this idealism from Alma, of course. And he finds himself compelled to caution, "You will probably find yourself fighting whoever wanted to take Howard's place." K' highly doubts that these criminal syndicates are ousting Geese for the purpose of improving Southtown as a whole, after all; there is probably some supplanter behind it all.
As for Hotaru... K' looks rather less like he feels it should be a big deal than Alma does. His eyes still averted, he doesn't quite see the way Alma looks at him with that newfound respect: and perhaps, that's for the best. The young man is not comfortable with positive attention, not knowing how to take it.
"You don't have to thank me," he says instead, his voice a little sharper than necessary. Minutely, he pulls back even as Alma arrests his attempt to reach out; uncomfortable with the gesture even though it is aborted. "I did what I wanted to do." To see Hotaru in that state... it had troubled K'. The young man had always expected Hotaru to be exemplary in all the ways he was not.
Not like she was fighting back in any productive way, anyway. The implication is amusing... that there could be a right and wrong way in which to take revenge.
But when Alma asks him to spar, K''s gaze finally turns to the other young man in faint surprise. In contrast to Alma, K' has never found any particular -joy- in fighting: especially not play fighting done in front of cameras. He does not understand a fight as a sort of discourse, not in the way Alma does. But he does understand Alma to be a good fighter, and to be someone he could work back up into a proper fighting alertness against. An exercise to shake off the stiffness of his healing injuries.
K' straightens up, pushing away from the railing. He brushes past Alma, walking out towards the front grounds proper, and his reply drifts over his shoulder with an attendant wisp of smoke: "Bring it, then."
"Heh!"
Shoulders bobbing slightly with a short chuckle, Alma smiles after the white-haired man as he brushes past, a sound too sincere with mirth and affection to be mistaken as patronizing. It's not as though Alma needed his faith reaffirmed. K' never needed to go out of his way to help his friends in order to retroactively justify the trust that Alma has always placed in him. And, of course, psychic though Alma may be, he has no way of knowing what really motivated K''s rescue of Hotaru, not because he cannot guess at the man's motivations but because he is too respectful to seriously attempt to do so. Either way, he does not doubt that consciously K' has probably explained his own actions to himself as being somehow self-serving; that's fine too. He is simply reveling in the shock of intimacy he feels, the sense that the person he believes in, with whom he feels himself tightly intertwined by their subtly similar natures -- or so he would assert -- does indeed exist, evidence he never demanded thrust upon him as though the heavens themselves had showered down this as a gift.
Within that glorious context, everything K' says and does, every little mannerism, seems bright with significance, a testament to the beauty of the person with him now, a man striving to grasp his own humanity.
Such is the power of love.
"Of course."
Stepping back onto the grass, slipping his hand from the pocket of his designer jeans as he relaxes his limbs and straightens into an elegant posture, swaying ever so faintly in his veritable impressionist interpretation of Fei Long's Hiten-Ryu style. His smile is subdued, but his eyes shine as warmly as ever, a young man who could not be more at peace with his current circumstances, for all their potent challenges.
"Please..."
His right hand ignites with that ethereal pale flame, illusory yet compelling, mystical yet palpable, the might and nuance of Soul Power, a fire born of faith to match one of blood.
"...Do your best."
For Alma will not relent, lunging first at the vagrant assassin, unwilling to constrain the honest urge to fight that swells within his breast, the incandescent passion that demands his heart's greatest efforts clash against K''s own, proof of this moment's closeness. Thrusting forth that flame, he will aim to pierce through K''s defenses as the plume flares up into a fierce lance to cut through mind and body alike, daring his opponent's will to fight to resist this test.
Thus does it manifest, love blossomed on the battlefield.
COMBATSYS: Alma has started a fight here.
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Alma 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: K' has joined the fight here.
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Alma 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 K'
COMBATSYS: K' dodges Alma's Self Expression.
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Alma 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 K'
Who knows what motivated K''s rescue of her? K' himself barely knows what drove him to seek her... or, for that matter, what drove him to kiss her, that night long ago. A kiss that, incidentally, since Alma considers himself a brother to Hotaru... probably should not be mentioned here. All K' really knows, on a conscious level, is that Hotaru seems more familiar with the things that trouble him. Despite her gentle appearance, beneath it all she is more similar to him than most people he ever meets.
He can try to justify it to himself as punishment for what she did to Shurui. But even he is aware, on some level, that it wasn't quite just about that.
K' doesn't think too hard about it. The thought of his sister briefly crosses his mind, and K' stiffens momentarily before blanking his mind against the bleak realization that he now has too many people for whom he cares. Eyes narrowing, his pace slowing to a standstill, K' focuses instead on the presence preparing itself to fight behind him. Eventually, once his expression is totally blank, K' turns his head to stare narrowly at Alma over his shoulder. The loose, careless attitude seems to pass for a fighting stance.
K' remembers quite well how it feels to be hit by Alma's psi. It's not a sensation the private young man likes. And so, when the other comes for him with that lance of psychic energy, K' elects not to be there when it strikes. His figure tenses with a sudden flux of chi, shadow seeming to crawl up to consume him; in the midst of his turn to face Alma, the young man seems to step straight into nothing, a breath of wind the only indication of the direction of his movement before he reappears, skidding to a halt, off to one side.
K' only gives it a second or two before he comes straight back at Alma. Closing the distance, he draws to a halt only long enough to brace for the swift sidekick he throws at the psion's center of mass.
COMBATSYS: Alma blocks K''s Aggressive Strike.
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Alma 0/-------/------=|-------\-------\0 K'
As ever, a formidable opponent.
Yet Alma experiences none of the faint hollowness he sometimes encounters when his inner fire, so soulfully conjured, fails to strike its target and impact against the other self it yearns for. His urge to fight K' arises not from a need to grow closer but rather to testify to the closeness he already feels. There is nothing lost in being evaded; if anything, his opponent's incredible agility only contributes to the already rising pitch of the confrontation. This is a celebration, a violent festival.
"Hhnn!"
Let's party.
Thus unfazed by any psychic feedback he might have otherwise felt, Alma is just able to react in time, his intuition-fueled reflexes only barely a match for K''s surreal blurring speed, managing to track a movement that seems to verge on the teleportation Alma himself has yet to truly master. His right arm is still retracting from the blow, but his stance is such that he is able to raise his knee instead, parrying the sidekick with his own leg. Styled hair shifting fetchingly with the sharp motion, the fighting model's lips seem to relax naturally into a slight smile, parting with the intensity of his focus, quite possibly unaware of his own mildly pleased expression.
Immediately he counterattacks, using the motion of his own block as an advantage: he thrusts out with a kick of his own, aiming to take out the leg K' did not attack with using the leg with which Alma defended. If he can succeed enough to at least unbalance his opponent, he'll attempt to seize advantage of the opportunity by snapping out with a high jab and a powerful straight punch to K''s torso, carefully maintaining the poised stance that allowed him to block in the first place.
COMBATSYS: K' blocks Alma's Combo Attack.
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Alma 0/-------/-----==|-------\-------\0 K'
K' feels his strike go wide more than he strictly sees it, Alma's parry throwing his balance slightly off. K' is forced to turn to one side even as Alma counters, trying to unbalance him by attacking his support; the experiment accordingly forms his defense around the momentum of that turn. Snapping his attacking leg back down, K' twists to glance that kick off his ankle and keep him from being too staggered; he faces Alma again in time to catch the subsequent two attacks, taking them on his right forearm.
Highly technical and agile maneuvers have been asked of him thus far. In a way, K' appreciates the quick thinking required of him; it keeps his mind off other things.
In the interest of keeping up that pressure, K' waits only an instant before his guarding arm turns to the offensive. Heat bleeds to life in the air around them, as K' rips fire out of his blood with a newfound control. A rising diagonal swipe of his arm discharges the gathered flames at close range, pressing them forwards in a blasting assault that spins vaguely into the shape of a ring.
COMBATSYS: Alma fails to slow Eins Trigger from K' with Divine Intervention.
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Alma 0/-------/-======|==-----\-------\0 K'
Their fight has been a dance of subtle shifts, powerful assaults couched in nuanced motions. Alma too awaits the moment when he can unleash fully the might of his energy, but he is not the first to act. His assault blocked by his too-alert adversary, he is still smoothly recoiling when K''s blocking arm swipes out, abruptly erupting in hungry flame.
The psychic was waiting for this, a predator's sudden strike, and had prepared his stance accordingly. But he could not have anticipated both the speed and the power of this ferocious assault; if anything, K' has become only more focused since their last encounter. Perhaps if Alma's arms had been in position, his reaction would have produced a different result, but his opponent catches him in the midst of his imbalance. Instinctively, he lashes out with a burst of light meant to counter the attack, but he himself is not prepared to deliver, the blast of fire actually catching Alma's arm as he attempts to pierce through the assault and sending that intervention shooting uselessly into the sky as K''s own explosion rips into the model's body.
Grunting as he sprawls to the ground, Alma rolls quickly to his feet, not letting a moment pass in which the opportunistic fighter could seize further advantage; nevertheless, the eruption seems to have stunned him, rendering him unable to react immediately. This exchange assuredly goes to his partner.
"...Hm..."
Yet still that slight smile, as he reassumes his stance. This is only one of many such exchanges. He will not relent, not until his body makes it the only option.
Flames still clinging about his slightly-upraised wrist, K' narrows his eyes at Alma in the wake of his attack's impact. He doesn't say anything, simply holding his stance as he lets his arm drop back to his side. The implication in his eyes is that he has been practicing a great deal since the last time he and Alma fought. Such was an utter necessity, considering recent events and the demands they placed upon the grim former assassin.
Most would consider the silence that settles in this brief lull awkward. Most would seek to at least say something to fill in the quiet. K' isn't one of those people, and it's perhaps why most find him so difficult to be around.
The experiment doesn't speak unless spoken to. Instead, in lieu of words, he merely sustains the lingering fire bangling around his wrist, coaxing the licks of flame slowly into a steady blaze. Control seems to come a lot more easily to him these days... but still, he'll be a lot faster to react if the flames are out and ready than if he lets them die out now.
COMBATSYS: K' gathers his will.
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Alma 0/-------/-======|======-\-------\0 K'
Alma can't but be impressed.
He knows how painful the summoning of that blood-red flame can be for K', can feel it viscerally now in the growing psychic attunement he feels evolving in the heat of battle. Yet the experiment's control has progressed in leaps and bounds, surely also a result of the practice that has produced here a fighter in peak condition. For all his own practice and perils, and though righteous zeal has brought him victory against K' before, Alma has never doubted that K''s bestial fighting style is on a higher level than his own. But never has K' been in such a formidable psychological state, seemingly come to terms with his own abilities, at least for the moment.
His smile widens.
Yes-- this is the K' he believed in all along.
The tremendous challenge he faces here is a symbol of the heights to which he feels K' has risen, the depths that he has emerged from so valiantly. The struggle continues, in this moment and into the future, but here--
Swiftly, he moves.
--here is the proof that they struggle together.
Weaving in, Alma does not dare to directly assault that powerful guard and tempt that unrelenting blaze, instead feinting smoothly in several directions to throw off K''s defenses just enough to sneak his attack through: a dart of spiraling soulfire gently proffered as the beautiful youth fades to the side, unfurling like a dove from the brush to lift up and possibly sneak through that guard to impact against the assassin's chest, disrupting that focus.
A bead of sweat traces its way down Alma's dusky temple, but the clarity of his eyes does not diminish as he pushes his body as far as it will go, testing his will as K' tests his own.
COMBATSYS: K' blocks Alma's Sacred Wave.
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Alma 0/-------/-======|=======\-------\0 K'
The pain involved in controlling the fire may never go away. It's how the flames express their displeasure at being grafted onto this boy who is not of Kusanagi blood. The glove NESTS made for K' could dim the pain down to nothing, of course... but K' long ago chose freedom from that shackle, rather than painless existence with a manacle around his hand.
But K''s control is not merely a result of practice. It is also the result of emotional progress: the result of K''s strengthening confidence. Before, he had never even thought of himself as anything but an utter failure, completely unworthy of the fire, and the sacred flames defied his control accordingly. But with the aid of others-- with the aid of proof of his own humanity-- he was able to mostly quell those thoughts.
Hotaru was one of the people instrumental in that. Perhaps it's part of why the austere K' seems to have a bit of a soft spot for her.
The K' that watches Alma's incoming attack is far more composed and measured than he once was. But some things never do change... among them, a fondness for force. Seemingly decided the time for subtlety has passed, K' reacts in a sweeping fashion to Alma's feints. The flames spread rapidly with the sweep of K''s arm, propagating and unfurling into a wide blaze that soaks much of the incoming energy... leaving only a brief shock to be felt in the mind as its remnants bleed through.
Immediately after, the flames contract and focus: swapped instantly from a defensive to an offensive use, that efficient conservation of summoned energy a knack of K''s that Kula had earlier observed. The experiment lunges forwards, closing the distance, and tries to cut a sharp uppercut of a kick at Alma: a burst of fire sheathing the attack.
COMBATSYS: K' successfully hits Alma with Second Shell.
-* CRITICAL HIT! *-
[ \\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////////////////// ]
Alma 1/-======/=======|=======\-------\1 K'
It's just too much.
Being unable to match his opponent for raw power, Alma needs to be able to match him for timing. Timing allows him to face opponents otherwise more formidable than he; rhythm allows him to master momentum that would otherwise turn against him. But again he finds himself caught between split-second motions, the distance between them closed too soon, and the distance in advantage all too great. Movements that should have contributed to his evasive abilities only compromise him. Simply bad luck in part, or whatever constitutes such a thing as fortune-- but the fact remains that Alma, in a phrase, should have been careful what he wished for. This is the K' he dreamed of.
This K' is stronger than he.
The kick catches Alma directly under the chin in mid-movement, a perfect connection that would at the very /least/ render unconscious even a trained fighter and outright slaughter anyone else, snapping their spine in an instant. Alma, more resilient for all his unearthly appearance, is thrown outright into the air, devastated by the fire-imbued strike, and by the way his limbs flail akimbo it seems quite possible even he may not rise from a strike this potent.
"--gggahh--"
But a functional body is a footnote to Soul Power.
"--uuuURRRAAHHH!"
Propelled by sheer passion, a shattered consciousness unable to inflict its will on a paralyzed body but unnecessary, the sheer subconscious need to reciprocate -- not out of vengeance, far from it, but from the profound existential urge to recognize K''s strength, to respond with something equivalent -- the brutalized Hiten-Ryu fighter flips in mid-air, his arms crossing loosely before him in what seems an accidental gesture, but which is revealed to be anything but when a bright glow suffuses them completely.
Before he even hits the ground -- which he will in a haphazard sprawl -- Alma Towazu will unleash a geyser of that energy that demands to be released, a broad torrent of raw willpower just large enough to potentially seem to swallow K' whole, a writhing scintillating mass of shining white, pale cherry-blossom pink and rich indigo that glitters with the promise of rapturous pain.
COMBATSYS: K' endures Alma's Full Confession.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////////// ]
Alma 0/-------/--=====|=======\==-----\1 K'
The thing about K' is, he's not just about raw power... though his strength, always a formidable thing, has become more so in the past few months. Perhaps in part because of the very teachings of Geese Howard, which advocated seizing one's own emotions-- particularly hate-- as fuel for one's attacks. K' is also, as his odd ability to almost teleport attests, about speed. Speed, precision, and relentless attack that never lets up.
The strike connects harder than perhaps even K' had intended. A cold calcuation spools off idly and instinctively in his mind, ruminating over the force that must have been involved-- certainly enough to murder a non-fighter, and perhaps even enough to end a fighter as well. That Alma continues to fight even afterwards is testament to that same resilience that had-- against pretty much everyone's expectations-- earned Alma K''s slow cold respect a long time ago.
Having K''s respect, however, tends to mean losing any chance of him ever going easy again.
The experiment holds his ground even as Alma retaliates, utterly refusing to move even as the torrent of psychic energy rips at him. Perhaps it's determination to defy his own hatred of Psycho Power that brings him to weather that foreign energy, painful as it is; or perhaps, it's just because his cold combat-tuned mind knows it's the best way to set up for what he intends next. Even in the midst of that rending force, his arm is already sparking and lighting with fire, his control now far more haphazard and stilted due to the effects of that psionic energy on his mental focus.
But much of the time, erratic control breeds greater power. And when K' lunges in a straight line out of that obfuscating burst of psionic light, tearing a line of fire in his wake and aiming to slam those gathered flames full-force into Alma, that principle becomes clear in the fact that the half-controlled fire seems rather more intense than it usually is in this particular application.
COMBATSYS: K' successfully hits Alma with Heat Drive EX.
~ Cruel hit! ~
[ \\\ < > /////////////////// ]
Alma 1/--=====/=======|===----\-------\0 K'
Unstoppable.
There's just no chance-- literally none. An untrained observer could perceive clearly the inevitability of the impact: Alma's flip unfurls into a mere semblance of a landing, questionably conscious, as K' drives relentlessly through the surge of psychic energy that threatened to consume him. Facing that ecstatic pain with pride and courage, the experiment plunges head-long through that ultimate challenge, and upon breaking free, his will intact, there is nothing to stand in his way.
Foom! Those hungry flames cannot be denied, not by arms that only twitched, by a body already half-folded. Alma slumps around that vicious blow as the last of his strength is decisively stolen from him, unable to reverse the momentum of his expert opponent. Consciousness fading utterly into the void, the last thought that the beautiful youth can muster is the realization that K', who had always been on another level, has done more than approach him in peak psychological form: he has risen yet farther. This mastery is no fleeting thing. K' has transcended his weaknesses and, in at least some important respects, he has done so irrevocably.
Alma cannot imagine what could make him happier.
"...K'..."
A breath, not a word, emerging like a sigh, forced by a flaming fist from battered lungs. But Alma's arms, which seem to drift upward loosely, moving simply with the impact of the blow quaking through his frame, sail silently with hands reaching toward K''s temples, drawn to the mind of his opponent by a force stronger even than will, beyond intention, emerging directly from the very core of his being, from that sea of flame ever burning within him.
As he falls, those fingertips might brush K', ever so slightly...
COMBATSYS: Alma can no longer fight.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
K' 0/-------/----===|
COMBATSYS: Alma successfully hits K' with Absolution EX.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
K' 0/-------/--=====|
...and when they do, the fullness of that affection will come crashing through Alma's mighty friend, tearing a path to K''s heart as irresistible as a force of nature.
Yes, it will wrench and burn, as it always must when the boundaries of consciousness are challenged, when infinity looms over the structure of the self. But even K', who is not inclined to see battle as discourse, must see this strike as a form of communication, for no man desperate to land one last strike would be filled with such compassion and gratitude. Wonder at and pride in K''s progress, the passion and humanity of one who truly believes himself to be much like K'-- and the boundless, unconditional love of someone who sincere Alma trusts implicitly, in whom Alma has faith down to the smallest fiber of his being.
Certainly, these feelings can be explained. Alma can no more abandon his love of Jiro and K' as he can abandon his own sense of self-worth; that is what it means to recognize the two of them as equals, as similar in profound respects, as fellow 'hollow men'. But there is no explanation accompanying these emotions that rush into K', no context provided in which they become further intelligible. They stand alone-- and perhaps that is for the best. For there are no qualifiers; there seems no obvious origin for these joyful emotions, a touch of heaven, a miracle beyond understanding.
Yes, a miracle.
For here, evidenced as clearly as conceivably possible, is someone to whom K' will never have anything to prove, who will believe in K' no matter how weak he is, no matter at what he fails, no matter to whom he is inferior.
Forever.
Alma falls with a final gasp to lie motionless in the grass.
~ Fight, K'. ~
This is a rest he can afford to take.
~ You shine... so brightly. ~
Is this progress really irrevocable? It may seem so-- may seem that this kind of strength and assurance are not things that can be reversed-- but that is only because there are very few things which -could- reverse him. Which could yet set him back. Those things still exist, however, even if they are few. There are certainties which could yet be undone in his mind... and their unraveling could certainly break this newfound sense of assurance.
Nonetheless, the sudden feeling of emotions not one's own flooding one's mind is a daunting one. K' recoils sharply, assailed as surely as if he had been struck, though the ultimate message is composed entirely of positive emotions. That unconditional belief in particular unnerves him as a sentiment entirely foreign. At times, K' has feared even Whip's love of him to be conditional; to so resoundingly be shown one that is not... is not within K''s emotional ability to easily grasp.
K' could reject it. To dismissive such shows has historically been a defense mechanism of his, employed against the scourge of hope. But, in the end, he doesn't entirely discount it quite yet.
COMBATSYS: K' has ended the fight here.
Log created on 22:21:37 05/01/2009 by Alma, and last modified on 23:29:14 05/02/2009.