Description: Months ago, she warned him. Months ago, she made her point clear in blood. Since then, much has changed and much has transpired. Now she needs to know if her warning was heeded, and he proves that it has, though maybe not in the way she'd have liked. A woman looking to fulfill her wish, and a man who treads the line between protection and destruction. They meet in a dance of blades on the eve of the new revolution...
Shanghai, China. One of the busiest, most populous cities in the known world. Yet at this hour, most of the city is still sleeping... or would be, if Shanghai ever slept. There are some parts of it, though, that are at the very least have quiet hours. Five a.m. is one such time, and Longhua Temple is one such place. In a little while, tourists will start to come here, among the ancient pagodas, gardens, and buildings, drinking in the culture of the Buddhist temple landmark. Right now only a scant few people are around, mostly security and groundskeeping staff. A coastal city's mornings are when the light pollution of white and orange streetlamps can't overcome the hazy purple sky at pre-dawn, and the air is slightly chill with the mist of morning dew.
One of the prominent landmarks in the complex is the central pagoda, a massive tiered tower rising over what is an otherwise empty, circular courtyard, now paved for pedestrian traffic. Right now, the only person here is Frei, who stands alone on the wide paved walkway, looking up at the pagoda and trying to center his thoughts. On a nearby bench rests all he brought with him from Japan: a backpack with spare clothes and other necessities, and the wooden sword he's taken to carrying of late, strapped to the side. The sounds of the city seem far away at this spot, and the only reason he's able to be here at all is that he's been to this place more than once, when he lived in China in the past. An old friend on the security staff let him in for a moment of reflection before he begins the trek that he came to China to make.
To Taizhou.
The name of the city, as it passes through his thoughts, makes Frei shut his eyes and raise his head toward the sky, as if looking up the height of the pagoda up toward the sky. The sealed city of Taizhou, removed from the world like Shangri-la by a dead-but-not Seishirou Ryouhara. The place where Alma, however long ago, returned from a changed person, even if he didn't see it. The place where Frei feels himself drawn, inevitably, carried along by the tide of current events.
He breathes out, putting a hand palm-down against his stomach and pressing in a bit. How many years has he been a part of these two worlds that seem to collide, professional fighting and being something just shy of a... a vigilante? Being in China reminds him of his past, of his obsessive need to flee his upbringing and discover a better way. A way that brought him back to Japan, into the world of fighting... then into many broader conflicts, which brought him back to his past, and then back to China. Full circle. At the start of that circle, he might not have made an effort. He wouldn't have traveled, wouldn't have taken the initiative. He'd only have acted once the fight came to his door.
Now, though?
His eyes open, his hand moves, and Frei turns back to go pick up his backpack and get things moving. "Now might be different," he says to himself, muttered. He could have gotten involved through the Einherjar angle, could have talked to Adel, or Ichiro, or Kula. Could have made it a team effort. But he didn't. This, for now, he does alone.
The world buzzes with it - gossip, rumors, stories, reports - of a single place everyone around the globe has recently become pointedly aware of. Something is happening there, a new storm brewing with the ripples of it felt throughout all populations. In the news, on the streets, in the relatively safety of walled in homes, so many opinions, so many theories, so many ideas on something they all know so little about: What is happening in the eye of the storm surrounding Taizhou?
Whatever the truth of Taizhou may be, it draws pilgrims from around the world toward it. Curious minds? Well meaning individuals flocking to where they may be needed? Or some desiring the chance to profit in the confusion that surely reigns in that city cut off from the rest of civilization? Their reasons are numerous and their means of making the journey just as varied.
One such individual has chosen to pass through Shanghai on his way there. And in so passing, lingers on the tranquil grounds of the Longhua Temple, witnessing its beauty at an hour few in the world will ever have the opportunity to see. An island of peace in a tumultuous, naive world that has had war declared upon it by the ghost of Ryouhara.
But such peaceful reflection cannot last when one's intended destination is best described as a ninja warzone on crack. And unfortunately, the tendrils of chaos wrought by such upheavel are far reaching. To the point that they stretch even into sanctuaries such as these.
The first warning of the impending rush toward entropy comes in the form of a soft, feminine humming heard through the mist. The tune is unrecognizeable, likely of her own making, though it carries a certain cheery edge to it. Into the open space around the tall pagoda steps a figure shrouded in a black, hooded cloak. A longish bundle wrapped up in a blue cloth is tucked under her right arm. Her left arm hangs heavily at her side as she carries a metal canister that seems designed for the transporting of some liquid that can be heard sloshing around within it. With a lazy but directed pace, the new arrival walks directly for the massive landmark, paying Frei no heed at all. Head bowed, the shrouding hood covers all but her chin, but she seems to know exactly where she's going in spite having her eyes mostly covered.
If approached or addressed, the strange figure ignores any attempts at engagement, walking directly up to the wooden fence that encloses the base of the tower. Her humming persists as she settles the cloth bundle on the ground next to the man-made perimeter and drops the can on the ground next to her feet. Crouching, she unfolds the bundle to reveal her load consists of a pile of sticks, sawdust, torn up strips of cloth, and other perfectly viable kindling. If there were any questions as to her intents, they can be cleared up quickly as she reaches for the canister and pours a fair quantity of likely flammable fuel over the bundle. The humming never stops.
While this figure approaches, Frei is walking back toward the bench where his things were sitting, ducking to retrieve them and slinging the pack up and onto his back, adjusting the straps. Better that they be comfortable; the trip isn't going to be easy. Rail or bus might get him as far as Shaoxing or Ningbo is he's lucky, Hangzhou if he's not... from there, it's likely going to be a good old-fashioned hike, taking whatever non-walking transportation he can and ducking the blockade. Frei's no super spy, no ninja, no ranger... he's just a guy. But he used to live in these hills, or hills very much like them; navigating the rural paths between China's various population centers shouldn't be too much trouble.
He hopes.
A bottle of water is pulled from a mesh side pocket, and Frei uncaps it, taking a quick swig and tipping his head back before recapping the bottle and replacing it, turning as he does so. This might be the last time he sees Longhua Temple, after all... might be the last time he sees ANY of this. Who knows what's going to happen in Taizhou? It's now that he sees someone in a black cloak looking to... start a campfire? Yeah, no, not even Frei's that naive. For a moment he watches this person setting up shop, calmly humming, and doesn't even think to address. But at the same time, he can't just sit and not do anything. Never mind losing a landmark; a fire spreading in a city as densely packed as Shanghai is bad news all around. So he walks over. Casually, calmly. No reason to make anything too big out of it, yet.
Eventually, unless suddenly stopped for some reason, he comes to a halt nearby and looks up at the pagoda rather than at the person. "This temple's dedicated to Bodhisattva Maitreya, did you know that? The bringer of mercy."
The humming doesn't stop for a while even after Frei speaks. Instead the girl goes about her preparations, fluffing up kindling and folding some of it over the fuel-dampened portions.
But finally the tune ends. "Of course I know that." Ayame answers as her humming cuts short. For that is who Frei has addressed. Her right and lifts to push the hood back off her head, letting long, strawberry blond hair spill out along her back as she glances back up at Frei, giving him a very direct stare. "It was originally constructed roughly eighteen hundred years ago... But that's not what we have here now." she continues, glancing up at the pagoda. "No... the original was destroyed - just another casualty of war as so many historical landmarks tend to end up."
She breaths in then exhales as if deeply appreciating the crisp early morning air. "This replacement has stood, albeit with some reconstructive efforts, for over a thousand years now. But war has come again and this time, the field of battle is every inch of dust across the globe. Only fitting that this site be retired once again." She rests the cannister back on the ground and looks up again at the towering structure as if giving it a moment of quiet appreciation.
The pause ends shortly, however, as she extends her right hand, palm up. The flare of orange chi is visible as it flickers along her forearm and concentrates in her palm like flames eager to consume.
"Today it will burn. Tomorrow... well, let's not get ahead of ourselves, hm?"
If he were the type who thought it'd impress her, Frei might suppress his surprise at seeing that the would-be arsonist is Ayame. Instead, he decides not to, and indeed, his being taken aback at this knowledge is pretty evident, the green eyes widening, lips parting just a bit. Considering what she said to him the last time they saw each other, that she would be present just as events connected in some way to the 'ghost' of Seishirou Ryouhara *shouldn't* surprise him, and in that respect it doesn't. The fact that she wants to burn down a thousand-year-old pagoda simply because... why? There isn't much reason, is there? A moment of reflection, and Frei suddenly chuckles unexpectedly, putting a hand over his mouth before shaking his head.
"You're probably not a classical Marxist," he says at last, looking at Ayame sidelong, eyes focused on that spark of chi flame. All that would be required to bring this towering structure to its knees. "So I don't think it's because religion is the opiate of the masses. Not a symbolic fire."
A moment passes, and then Frei takes a step. It's an obvious one, intended to put his back to the wooden fence and himself between Ayame and the pagoda, if there's room. Entirely symbolic; given this courtyard it's not as if he could stop her if she wanted to charge the thing and get the fires underway. In truth considering the structure's age and composition, she probably doesn't even need the accelerant; a simple spark would be enough, in time. But as Frei is aware, symbolic gestures still have meaning even if they're impractical. "I think this is from around 200ish AD, right? The three kingdoms era. The guy who commissioned it -- Sun Quan, the king of Wu -- won his most decisive battle of the time with fire. A naval engagement at Chi Bi against Cao Cao, the Prime Minister who represented the state. All of Cao Cao's ships burned thanks to clever strategy. They said you could see the wall of fire all along the river for hundreds of miles. So maybe you think it's ironic? I don't know."
He turns back to Ayame, and tilts his head a little. "Why burn it down? I mean, in a simple, transactional sort of way, what's it get you? Proof that war is on the way? I think the world already knows that. I mean... is it like the first time we met, at that church? Are you doing it just to make yourself feel better?"
"Hm!" Ayame replies as Frei supposes that she isn't following this course of action as a war against religion. The tone suggests a mixture of amusement and concession, as if allowing him a point for being accurate in that regard. Her brown eyes sparkle a little, reflecting, perhaps, a touch of that hungering flame in her palm.
As he interposes himself between her and the ancient wooden structure, Ayame stands up straight facing him, her right hand still extended, palm facing skyward. "Indeed." she replies as he summarizes the brief account for such a significant historical event. "Do I?" she asks as he tosses out that perhaps she sees her act as a curious moment of irony, serving no more than to entertain herself with no concern for a cost that can never be replaced.
"Why, why, why. So many questions." she continues, her tone taking on a certain bemused nature. "So... noisy." she adds, echoing words spoken to her by another, a flicker of a memory distant and painful in its recollection mirrored in her eyes for only the briefest of moments.
"Hmph." Closing her right fist, the flicker of chi flames are extinguished, before she extends her arms out to her sides. "Do the answers even matter? Why not burn it down? Do I need to get anything from it? Do I need to prove something? Maybe it makes me feel better? Or maybe I'm dying inside at the thought of such loss. You're asking questions for which the answers don't matter. No... questions alone will not change the course of what is to come."
She never loses that tiny edge of a smile as she twirls once on her right foot before ending facing Frei again. "This dance goes both ways. Why are you asking me? Why do you care what happens to this construction of wood and paper that can be so easily robbed of the world by a single angry spark? Why stand between me and it now, the proverbial defender for something as unimportant as a lifeless building? Will you stand there and be consumed by the inferno to come? What do you get from it?"
The would-be arson cants her head to the side slightly, her hands drawn back in, her left hand flicking a lock of her hair back over her ear in the process. And then she whips the cloak from off her shoulders, casting it aside to the ground. At her side is sheathed a familiar sword - Frei would recognize it as the one that she cut on him with once before the last time she intended to make a point.
"Saaa... but what does it matter now. You should know that you can't talk your way through what is coming." She pauses, shifting her stance, right shoulder a bit forward. "Unlike the ruthless dogs that will soon be set upon you, I will give you the freedom to make a choice. One move. A single action." Her right hand reaches across in front of her, her fingers dancing lightly on the handle of her katana. Her eyes narrow, her expression darkening. "Do not squandor this opportunity. It is more than you will get where you thought you were going."
Her hand closes over the pommel of her blade. "Act now, Frei Tsukitomi-Renard, or go home. I don't think you have what it takes to make a difference."
Why indeed. Why should it matter? It IS just a building. Is it worth more than a human life? Or will it just be rebuilt in a couple years, having died nothing more than a symbolic death? And do Ayame's reasons really matter, either? Maybe not. Whatever the *reason* is she still intends to burn the temple down either way. The literal reality transcends the world of the ideal, doesn't it? The reality is that this girl wants to burn it down. Anything else deals mostly with consequences. I want to stop her because the fire might spread. Because people care about this place and I don't want to see them hurt. Because I don't think it should be done. None of this gets articulated, but it is something Frei lets play through his mind.
With a sigh, he shrugs the backpack off his shoulders, letting it drop to the ground. Ducking down, he takes the wooden sword from the loops and straps holding it onto the pack and grabs hold, bringing it up and slipping it horizontally through his back belt loops. Other than the make, which seemed surprisingly sturdy, all things considered, there's nothing exceptional about it... a carved bit of wood. Yes, he remembers that blade well. But the weapon he was wielding last time is nowhere to be seen. Now, it's just this piece of wood and his bare fists.
"Because the world is without purpose," he says quietly, looking intently at Ayame's face, reading her reaction rather than her stance. Certainly, it's an easy opportunity for her to take the first shot with her opponent at a disadvantage... but in his heart of hearts, Frei doesn't think she'll take it. Not until he's answered. "Because natural law doesn't give a damn about human concepts of justice or love or war... it just is. But because we're human, we live by these things that we've created, you know? Because if we give up and do things 'just because' we're giving up what it means to be human. Because something that seems terrible might be the best way to do it, if there's a good reason."
He takes a step back, right hand resting on the carved 'hilt' of the bokken, his knees bending a little. It's a battoujutsu stance, alright, though not a traditional one, per se. "That's why I came here. I might want to stop what's going to happen. I might want to help. I won't know until I see with my own eyes. But destroying things just for the sake of destruction... that's wrong. And I've discovered you can't wait until something's been destroyed to act, or... or you can lose something very precious in the process. Sometimes, you have to take the first step."
It's expected, but he does it anyway; a step forward, then a second, and the wooden blade is swung out in a drawing motion for Ayame's side, the air around it exploding into a nimbus of blue-white frost in the process. It's belt loops, not a saya; it's wood, not a blade. But as far as Frei is concerned, the sword he wields is in his mind. It's perception, clarity, understanding. The ability to cut through confusion to find a new path.
The *idea* of a sword.
COMBATSYS: Ayame has started a fight here.
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Ayame 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Frei has joined the fight here.
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Frei 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Ayame
COMBATSYS: Ayame blocks Frei's Fierce Punch.
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Frei 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Ayame
He judges correctly. She doesn't attack him as he speaks. She promised him the 'luxury' of a single choice before she would make her own move and the dark eyed rogue that stands before him seems inclined to give him that choice even if he takes a while to arrive at it. Instead she stands ready. "It has been for a long time," she murmurs as Frei speaks of how the world lacks purpose. "That was one of the things he sought to change."
Her stands stiffens slightly. "There was a lot he was going to change." She watches Frei intently, eyes on his for a while before wandering down to the wooden 'blade' he takes hold of. Last time she held his reversed sword with contempt. This time her eyes pass over his weapon of choice so quickly that it may as well not even exist.
He decides. He already decided or else he wouldn't be here. His wooden sword is swung, its momentum augmented by the chill of frost-touched air in the process, and Ayame replies. Her own action is a blur, her body twisting, her sword drawn to intersect his. The crack of wood smacking against metal echoes across the courtyard as the lithe fighter slides back a foot from the impact. "Good." she muses, gripping her sword with both hands to brace back against the force. "I wasn't sure."
She steps back, spinning around to Frei's side in one smooth motion, ending with her blade still in a defensive angle, "That you would come..." There's a certain meloncholy to her tone. "Not so selfish after all, I suppose. But then you were unarmed, playing with a child's sword as if it was a weapon. This time you come with your real strength. You got it back I see."
Ayame exhales, eyes focusing on Frei's wooden blade again. "Che." Backing up a step, she twirls the katana gracefully twice around her hand before sliding it back into the sheath at her side. "I already tried to get you to stop using such a dumb weapon last time. I won't do it again." she admits begrudgingly. He sure is a stubborn one, that Frei.
Her left hand dips to the leather pouch dangling over her left thigh from one of her many belts and from it she draws the collapsed form of her familiar staff. "Doesn't mean you're getting off easy though." she finishes with a trace of a smile. Twirling the collapsed tube once, it expands with a hiss of hydraulics and a spark of energy less 'conventional' to its full six foot length of solid, polished titanium. A distant look passes over her expression for a moment as she stops focusing on Frei for a moment but rather /through/ him.
Bowing her head, she closes her eyes for a fleeting moment. By the time she opens them, the distant look has passed and she focuses once again on Frei - though there is touch of anger he'll find as he scrutinzes her features - something she's keeping suppressed, but only just so. "I wonder where people like you even come from." she snorts before sliding in and stabbing low with one end of her staff, aiming to knock it first against Frei's inner left ankle then immediately sweep the weapon to the right to smack against his inner right ankle, before snapping the weapon back, spinning on her left foot and driving her heel toward his stomach in a bid to knock him backward off balance, releasing an uncharacteristic 'HAH!' to accompany the kick.
COMBATSYS: Frei interrupts Power Strike from Ayame with Charged Combo.
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Frei 0/-------/-----==|====---\-------\0 Ayame
You can't really argue with Ayame on one point: a wooden sword is a damnded stupid weapon. There are a few people who can get away with it, or something like it; for example, Hayato Nekketsu makes up for the silliness of his shinai -- a weapon even less durable and practical than a bokken -- through sheer, dogged determination and grit. Tenma Kiryuu's inherited spirital powers turn the bokken into... something else... in his hands, transcending the weapon. Frei's facility with elemental chi is similar, but not the same. Yet he seems unconcerned with Ayame's disdain for the moment, as he hops backwards from Ayame's practiced block, slipping it back into his belt loops.
"I had a lot of time to think, after you left," he says evenly, looking at the young woman. Of all the people he's met, she is the most impenetrable, the least knowable. Perhaps because she keeps her motives on the move, a shfiting target; Alma, Jiro, Adelheid... for all their depths and nuances, they're easy to understand. They wear their ideals on their sleeve. But in the same breath Ayame has flickered between destruction and protection, between admiration and condemnation. When she attacked him, he reacted in a very basic way: by trying to ferret out why she would do it. By assuming she had something to prove, something to say, by forcing him to look at why he was trying to learn something he might not have any place learning. Maybe it wasn't that, though. And when the news about Taizhou struck, her words came back to haunt him. For months -- MONTHS -- Frei knew. She outright TOLD him. Could he have stopped something? Could he have acted differently, made a step, changed the outcome? He didn't, and while recriminating himself for it isn't practical, it does fall to him to say...
"I should have thanked you," he says quietly, watching Ayame as she prepares her staff. The switch to it from the blade surprises him, but only slightly; it's clear what she sees as Frei's primary weapon, and so only natural that she might choose hers. "Finding reasons is one thing, but not if it blinds you to what's right in front of you. You need a balance of principle and action. I should have listened more to the warning you gave. That needed saying."
And then she's striking. But perhaps because he has spent so much time fighting with something he *wasn't* terribly good at, it's sharpened his senses when it comes to reaction time. Gritting his teeth, Frei steels himself for the double strike against his ankles, and indeed, the clanging ring of Ayame's preferred weapon cracking against tender joints is the outward sign of the pain such a strike could inflict... but as her heel comes in toward his stomach, Frei is ready for it. His hand closes around *her* ankle, stopping the kick short, before he shoves backward, ideally sending Ayame off-balance long enough for him to make a *second* drawing strike, coming from the opposite side, blade still rimed with frost as Frei attempts to avoid setting off the fire accidentally himself.
stepping backwards from the strike, slowly sliding his 'blade' back in place, he gives Ayame an embarrassed smile. "I come from a long line of people with deep-seated emotional issues," he says with disarming honesty. "They're amazingly helpful in producing people with personalities the rest of the world sees as just a little... off."
As the kick was only the finishing touch to a three step strike, her heel doesn't drive forward with enough force to push through Frei's sudden grip. Caught balancing on one leg, she slams her staff down quickly to compensate - and is in fact just about to kick up to drive her other leg into the side of his head for his trouble when he shoves her back a split second too early.
Already using her staff for balance, she can't bring it up in time to ward off the blunt strike of his chi-infused sword. The impact drives the air from her lungs as she slides back, dust kicked up in her wake before she comes to a stop. She glares at the young man then as he speaks of his lineage, the girl seemingly increasingly agitated as she shifts through her myriad of conflicting reactions.
"Yeah?" she retorts with a bit of a snort as he expresses his thanks, seemingly throwing it back at him unappreciated. "It's too late to make a difference. It doesn't really matter now anyway." She turns her side toward Frei, breathing in then exhaling as she shifts her grip tightly on the middle parts of her staff. "None of it really does anymore."
She closes her eyes and bows her head again for a fleeting moment. "There's really no reason to even go to Taizhou now... the whole catastrophe will collapse in on itself before long now that..." She grits her teeth as the she leans forward, glaring back at Frei with broiling hostility as the first hints of the rising distant sun reflect against the girl's strawberry-blonde hair. "He's dead, you know." She sprints forward again, her staff held lengthwise at her side. She'll still be out of retaliation range when she jams the weapon forward, aiming for the center of Frei's chest with staggering force.
But it's merely the opening strike before Ayame spins into a second swing just over ground level as if meaning to trip Frei off his feet to leave him open to further attacks, moving with more vicious force than the more calculated precision she tends to strike with. "Seishirou Ryouhara is dead!"
COMBATSYS: Frei blocks Ayame's The Sunrise Of Broken Dreams.
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Frei 0/-------/----===|====---\-------\0 Ayame
Of course he's dead. The world saw him die, didn't they? Rugal kicked him clean in *half*. You don't come back from that.
But the vehemence of that response hits Frei harder than any strike from that staff could, his green eyes unfocusing for a moment as he keeps them trained on Ayame, watching her reaction. What had she said so many months ago? 'He intends to change the world. This second Jinchuu of his is just the first step.' Ayame was going to attend, have her wish granted. But she knew it was a wish that would have to be won with blood. 'I understand the prize money for the first tournament was significant, but this is something else altogether and I fully intend to throw my lot in with anyone else who hopes to achieve such a boon.' If he'd been thinking clearly at the time, Frei might have wondered what Ayame might want more than money. Now, regrettably, he has the time to reflect on it.
What he thinks he can hear is the grief and regret in her tone. What was it that Seishirou promised Ayame? What was her wish that now goes ungranted?
It's fortunate for Frei that he decides to block the initial strike with his palm, letting the end of Ayame's staff slam into his outstretched left hand. Painful, but less so than taking it to the sternum. It also gives him the split second he needs to realize that there's more to this strike, and moving with as much speed as he can muster, his right hand draws the bokken in one smooth motion, swinging it downward to intercept the trip. It's ragged, a little messy; the blow instead spins awkwardly into his shin, but it saves him the problem of being tripped up. Taking a couple deep breaths, Frei backs up and scrutinizes his foe one more time, trying to puzzle something out.
'Seishirou Ryouhara is dead!' And Alma Towazu got blown to hell, as did the YFCC for perhaps the ten millionth time. Frei has faith that Alma will pull through, as will the Center. But for now, the Soul Phoenix will have to live on in the hearts of those who care for him. Perhaps the reason that Frei set out alone. "His body, maybe," Frei says at last, eyes heavy-lidded. "You once said I wouldn't like his methods. The one time I saw them myself... you're right, I didn't. He just... DOES things, he doesn't care what happens along the way. But I didn't know him well enough to judge him. And whatever it is he WANTED, something is keeping it alive in Taizhou." He looks up at Ayame, giving her an intense stare. "It's never too late. It's only too late when you're dead. There's always a chance."
And then he's rushing, driving at her. Somehow these things always come down to fighting, but occasionally it's the only way to express yourself. Somethings the kinaesthetic language of punches and kicks is the only way to show your sincerity, your drive, your ambition. If it's the language Ayame wants to hear, then Frei knows ways to speak it.
"I don't know what your wish was," he says, coming to a stop in front of Ayame just long enough to plant his foot, pivot, and attempt to crash his foot into the bottom of her chin in an upper snap kick, glowing with a hazy gold sparkle like the sun rising in the east. "But are you just going to give up on it *now*?"
COMBATSYS: Ayame fails to counter Light Kick from Frei with The Lament of Chronos; To Forget.
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Frei 0/-------/---====|=======\-------\0 Ayame
"So he did." Ayame replies when Frei describes what seems to be the Ryouhara scion's approach to doing things, her tone suggesting that she finds that to be one of the deceased ninja's admireable traits rather than something to deride. As to something of what he wanted being kept alive in the entrenched ninja warzone, she is less quiet, though a certain haunted expression flashes in her eyes for an instant then is gone.
Her breathing is more labored, her brow furrowed, her eyes glaring back at Frei with a certain burning intensity - anger, frustration, regret mingle, each having a brief turn at prominence in a bewildering cycle that seems disinclined to calm any time soon.
She remains silent as he continues to speak, as if uncertain as to what to say next; or perhaps having decided she's said all she cares to utter on the matter. It's when the man gets within striking range that she acts at all, hands tightening their grip on the length of her staff. She focuses - not on Frei but rather within, her eyes peering past the traveler. A foot shy of each end of her staff, crimson sigils previously hidden from view flare to life and Ayame's mouth twitches in the faintest hint of satisfaction.
Finally, progress, she thinks to herself. For months she had struggled to re-ignite the intricate chi formula left in her crafted weapon by the enigmatic Seishirou's touch. But she had been missing a component - a variable to the equation that she hadn't managed to solve for. Now to put it to-
Frei's kick is swift and precise but whatever the strawberry-blonde had in mind to retaliate with had already fizzled out by the time his foot slips past her staff, the glimmering runes flickering away a split second prior much to Ayame's brief, visible surprise. Though the impact is hardly bone shattering, the teen fighter staggers backward all the same before finally stumbling and landing hard in a seated position on the courtyard ground, dark eyes blinking as if she was in a state of profound confusion.
As her right hand lifts to rub at the newly provided ache in her jaw, she glares at the metal staff in her hand as if the weapon was in need of a well overdue scolding. Why couldn't she master the chi augmentation left by the murdered genius? What was she missing? Never before had chi manipulation flummoxed her so. The complexity of the chi-etched runes was craftmanship beyond anything she had yet witnessed. "Che." Ayame utters a frustrated grunt before spitting to the side. She keeps her face turned, her hair framing and mostly concealing her eyes from Frei in the process.
She breaths in then exhales as she briefly lifts her hand from her chin to execute a flicking gesture over her right eye as if wiping something away before finally looking back at Frei with a decidedly neutral stare. A second deep breath is taken followed by a long exhale. "You're crazy for going in there willingly. Even moreso for going in alone. You're right, Frei, there are elements keeping the work Seishirou began alive in there. On the other hand, there are forces at work to fill in the vacuum of leadership left behind... Dangerous forces. They don't care who gets hurt or dies in their attempt to seize power either."
Ayame half closes her eyes, glancing off to the side again. "I have no idea why you would go in there now. I'm not sure you have what it takes to survive in there. But..." She closes her eyes then for a moment. By the time she opens them again, there's the faintest sense of amusement in her expression. "But after seeing you now, I'll give you a fifty-seven point forty three percent increased chance of at least making it through your first three days alive."
Glancing south, Ayame stares off into the direction of Taizhou. "I guess I'll have to check on you then. If you make it that far, maybe you'll be ready to know more."
She's not the only one looking surprised. Even as Frei is retracting his leg from the kick, hopping backwards into a ready stance. His eyes are trained on Ayame, and not the staff... why? The sudden spike in her aura, the fiery red sigils... he'd have to be blind not to see them, and if there is one thing Frei no longer is, it's chi-blind. He has a good idea, just from the special effects alone, that whatever Ayame was planning, it probably would not have been pleasant to experience had it worked. Her reaction, though... while he can't clearly see her face, the fact that she seems more confused than troubled isn't lost on the young sage. He didn't expect her to reel -- it's not as if he went at her with crushing force, just enough to get her attention -- but the new development is something else entirely.
But there's little time to think about it, in the end. Frei had been bracing himself for a counterassault that never comes, and realizes a bit too late that he had somehow snatched the momentum away from his opponent. A more vicious person might press the attack, looking to make sure there's no chance for her to recover. As it is, the redhead merely stands there, watching her, listening to what she says. Crazy for going in 'willingly'?
"Maybe," he admits, looking off to the side for a moment before training his eyes back on the staff-wielding fighter. "Wouldn't be the first time I've been accused of doing something other people see as a little insane. But if these 'forces' are as awful as you say they are, then that's all the more reason for me to go," he finishes, smiling faintly, almost tiredly. He brings a hand up, pressing it palm-down against his stomach, as he continues to talk. "It's a matter of..."
A pause, for a moment. Memories. A cold, moonlit night in Kyoto. The five voices he'd heard -- the five manifestations of something -- finally had a name, a face, drawn out by Alma's apology and Frei's first chance to vent his true feelings. That face, that name... were his own. Frei heard the decrees of divine beings but in his own tone, and their message was that he had forgotten himself by focusing on events. That much was true, without question. The things that had happened to him were terrible, even scarring and earthshattering. But that doesn't mean that they're an excuse to become someone he's not. His powers came back when he accepted things as they are.
Frei's eyes open, and he trains them on Ayame with a smile. "Natural law is terrible. Fire doesn't care where the oxygen comes from; it just exists to burn. The flood doesn't recognize the countless homes it washes away. But to say 'that's just how it is' and shy away from doing what you can to bring a human face to that sort of event is wrong. I'm going to Taizhou because the individual people those... successors... might see as expendable statistics, I see as people with dreams and futures. Children and families. They're not objects. They're *people*. Being weak doesn't mean one abrogates the right to live."
A pause after that, and Frei is quiet before shaking his head and turning his focus back to Ayame with a faint smile. "I'll take 57.43% where I can get it. I'll warn you, though, I'm hard to kill. I've... got the gods on my side."
COMBATSYS: Frei takes no action.
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Frei 0/-------/---====|=======\-------\0 Ayame
Ayame shows no inclination to stand for a while. It'd be safe to say that by now she is pretty able to guess whether or not she needs to fend off strikes from the young man. It can take threatening to burn down a historical landmark just to get him to attack, after all! As he speaks, she stretches one arm out to her side, then, using her staff as leverage, pries herself back up to standing.
Pointing the the end of the weapon in the monk's general direction, the girl hmphs, "Are those the qualities that make you a proverbial good guy? Willing to sacrifice so much for those you don't even know? Curious how much everyone is ready to sacrifice so much... you might find you have more in common with that dead ninja than you realize." Twirling the polearm once, the staff has collapsed back to down to its normal size by the time it finishes the spin. Tucking it back into the pouch at her belt, Ayame shrugs, "Heh. Gods is it now. Hm... We'll see, we'll see..."
Stalking over to the cloak she had casually discarded earlier, Ayame sweeps it up off the ground and swings it back over her shoulders idly. "Well. I have a busy schedule and with the flood of people pouring in, it isn't about to get any lighter." She gives Frei a snappy salute and faint grin before drawing the hood up over her head and meticiously tucking her hair back into its folds. She glances toward the fuel soaked bundle left near the wooden fence of the pagoda.
"Better keep an eye out. You have a lot more fire fighting in your future." she muses just loud enough to be heard.
Turning away from Frei, Ayame waves absently over her shoulder as she walks away. "Welcome to Jinchuu. Please don't mind the bomb."
That gets a definitive headshake in the negative from Frei, that question. Does it make him a good guy? "No," he says simply, watching Ayame as she goes to retrieve her things. His voice usually has the calm, airy tone of someone without a care in the world, but there are times -- now being one of them -- when a thread of iron winds its way into his words. He doesn't seem angry; in fact, if anything, there's a certain brightness to his response, an energy. "I'm not a 'good guy'. That's the difference between me and the others. I'm not good, I'm not bad... I'm not on the side of light, or on the side of dark. Because of that, I can become whatever is needed."
A hand comes up, and Frei puts the tip of his index finger to the tip of his nose, as if he's telling Ayame the secret ingredient in a recipe. "What I do is advocate for life itself. Destruction is part of the natural cycle, after all... winter brings summer. Forest fires bring new growth. But *something* always steps in before it gets out of hand. I'm the... something. That's why I can't judge Seishirou's... legacy... just yet. I have to go and see with my own eyes, decide for myself, without being... a member of Einherjar, or a friend of Alma, or whatever. And because I'm neither one thing nor the other, I can become whatever is needed in the end. If I need to be a defender, then I'll do my best to protect people."
The girl retrieves her cloak, and leaves the potential for destruction behind. In the end, Frei will take his victories where he can get them. Ayame gives him a farewell, and a gift, and a warning. This isn't the last tough decision he'll have to make. This isn't the final time he may need to take the initiative and step in. "Well,' he thinks to himself, 'that's fine too.' "I wouldn't want to keep you. Maybe I'll see you again. 50% isn't so bad on odds of survival."
The comment about the bomb makes him laugh, shaking his head. "I'll clean up here, don't worry."
Then she's gone. The sun is now up, and once Ayame's made her exit, the security people realize there MIGHT have been a potential arson in progress here. Getting them to calm down and understand... that's going to take some doing.
But even as he's engaged in explaining, the green-eyed sage lets his gaze drift toward the direction Ayame left in, and the thought he didn't put into words ends up being whispered, just quietly enough for he himself to hear:
"But if I need to become a destroyer... I can do that too."
Onward to Taizhou...
Log created on 20:10:23 03/28/2010 by Frei, and last modified on 00:49:24 04/03/2010.