Description: Three very differently-trodden paths converge in the centre of Southtown. Rival schools manage to put aside their differences, at least for now, to discuss troubles looming upon the distant horizon...
Commuting is nobody's idea of fun; not ever, unless they're clinically insane. A lot of things have been said about Aoi Himezaki - and more than a few of them are true - but for all her faults both broad and subtle, she's not actually mad. Which accounts for the world-weary distance of her gaze and the bags beneath her eyes as she strides through the quiet streets of Southtown in the early morning. Her stride lacks its usual confident, predatory sway, reduced to a desperately determined lunge, her bootheels clacking with less than perfect rhythm with the squeak-squeak of wheels beside her. Luggage. She's got a flight to catch, after all.
Of course, being the domineering leader of some five thousand eager and idolatrous young women does grant certain luxuries - and one of these is not having to pull one's own luggage around. The black-and-purple (very dark purple) rolling suitcase is beind yanked along by a dimunitive Seijyun pupil wearing a colourful bandanna and large hoop earrings, chatting animatedly as she remains carefully just a half-step behind Zaki.
"So that's when I said, 'dude, if you set one foot past these gates I'll make sure your eyes bug out so far you'll have to pick them up and aim them if you ever wanna look up another skirt!' That's the last time THAT Gedo punk messes with the Welcoming Committee, dude!" The girl - whose name, established in a previous issue, is Hamada - flashes Zaki a sidelong grin that's returned with the barest snort of a breath. It's received as the highest praise, and she grins all the wider, almost quickening her step before trundling to a sudden halt. Aoi gets two steps ahead, and she quickly darts back into rhythm, shifting gears from elation to caution.
"Shut up, Hamada," booms the sukeban belatedly, once the urge to actually speak occurs. Beneath the mask, she does register a small smile as she returns the sideward glance with a narrowing of vulpine eyes. "You got anything else to actually report, or can I assume everything's under control? Sunshine's a fucking mess right now, and it's only getting worse. I'm /not/ coming back until it's sorted. Understand?"
"It-It's under control, dude. You can leave it to me! You know that!"
"Hmph." Swinging her stare back to the road ahead, Zaki lets a hard, uncertain silence fall, only her clack-clack and the case's squeak-squeak keeping the pair company as they continue on toward the airport. Jet-lag and boredom aside, the sukeban doesn't look in the least uncomfortable about this, a stark contrast to the smaller girl who's wishing anything would happen-- a fight, a squirrel, maybe just a loud noise...
Early morning is a time when few are supposed to be out and about. The dawn is breaking like a young woman's heart, spreading across the sky orange then yellow, chasing the blue away as the boiling circle of the Sun rises. Few would even -want- to be out--mostly it's salarimen walking home, teenagers sneaking home... people going -home-. Only the crazy want to be out at this time of day. People who take red-eye flights home. That kind of thing.
... and Sakura Kasugano. The hellfire, self-taught prodigy of Ansatsuken is out and about.. but she is also arguably crazy. Brown hair doesn't have far to go, but it's tied back anyways with the usual white headband, and the warmup jacket is black and white this time, matching the bike shorts she wears--black lycra with white stripes down the sides. _Why_ is she out? At a time like this? She's out because... she's jogging. Working out. She is a prodigy, sure, but she knows the value of fitness, and, more to the point, she's restless. She hasn't had a good fight in a while and when she can't fight... she exercises.
The first that the two Seijyun girls might know of her is the crunch of hightop sneakers on gravel and detritus. The second, the sound of paws on the pavement--admittedly quite a bit softer. The third, the 'ruff' and bark of the dog whose paws are hitting the pavement alongside his mistress. (That would be Sakura).
She's rounding the corner, her breath slightly accelerated, the ends of that headband bobbing behind her, the dog's breathing also audible now. She's still a good quarter-block from the two, but closing velocities are doubled when it's a head-on collision... if her head were down and she were focusing on her stride, it might be a problem.
Southtown is a strange and unusual place. At times it seems almost dangerously small, the fighting world condensed into a handful of streets such that the odds of running into just about /anyone/ are moderate to unavoidably likely. Then weeks, months, even years pass where two local celebrities don't manage to cross paths at all, as though fate were keeping their threads apart for some higher purpose. From person to person, Zaki's particular feelings on this phenomenon vary, and it's not like she really shares her emotions. It's also not like the vast majority of them aren't negative enough that she doesn't need to.
Ladies' Team aside, she can count the number of people she'll wilfully tolerate on her fingers and/or toes.
Hamada is more disposed to company, and indeed is the only one of the pair currently awake and un-tunnel-visiony enough to actually pick out the approaching sounds. Twitching her head to one side, she pauses briefly in her step and lifts a hand as Sakura rounds the nearest corner, one finger pointing briefly toward her before shifting easily into a wave. "'sup, dude!" She yells out, none-too-unpleasantly, because it's Sakura frickin' Kasugano - no budding female fighter doesn't have SOME respect for her, even and perhaps even /especially/ a super-feminist gangbanger who takes orders directly from Zaki. Sakura's one of the few...
"Hamada, what the hell are you doing?"
...who Zaki wouldn't try to choke into unconsciousness for daring to SLAM into her headlong.
Caught up staring irately heavenward as she calls back to her waving subordinate, Aoi's height and relative lack of damn-giving for the outside world right now sees Sakura all but steamroll over her. In a rattle of chains and a swish of skirts she eats all one hundred pounds of the girl-- and actually almost goes down, the breath rushing against the leather of her mask as she's sent screeching backward on those crazy heels. Only an instinctive outward lashing of one arm and a sinking of her posture keeps her upright, vulpine eyes ablaze.
"You piece of shit!" She hisses before she gets a look at her assailant, a snap of her wrist sending the afore-heard chain from her sleeve to her gloved grip, looping around in a tight arc as she takes a step forward, ready to tower over the subject of her wrath and dish out the lashings when her travel-weary brain ticks over, and several thoughts all catch up at once. Most usefully, she states, "...oh. It's... you."
And your little doggie too.
"I tried to tell you, dude..."
Sakura's head snaps around--a fraction of a second too late, as Hamada's warning shout-cum-greeting echoes in her ears. Hell, she's lifting a hand to wave--one of her fans? She doesn't know for sure, but it never hurts to be friendly right? And Sakura's one of the friendliest fighters around, no lie. It's one of the things that's made her so popular--she never shows arrogance or disdain for her opponents... well... almost never.
"Hey-wha--!!"
*THUD*
Sakura recoils as her dog comes to a halt, head tilted inquisitively as if to just out and out -say- 'Didn't you smell them coming? *I* did.' Sensing, perhaps, that this might be the end of the morning run, the pup sits on his haunches, panting softly, and... turning a big ol' doggy grin on Hamada. Hi you, he seems to be saying, with his bright black eyes and his doggy grin, why don't you come -pet me-. Since my mistress is busy.
While all that is happening, well, Sakura is flailing, her voice rising in a warbling 'whoa-oa-oa' and then she kicks a foot back and stabilizes. "Hey, why don't -you- wa--... oh, hey, uh... Zaki."
Whoa. She almost slipped and said Himezaki. _That_ would've earned a punch for sure. Sakura doesn't mind a fight, even a surprise one, but she respects Zaki and besides, the mask girl is scary. Even _Hinata_ thinks so. Gamely, Sakura tries on a smile. "I uh, didn't expect to see you this morning...!" ... God, Sakura, you sound -so lame- right now, she chides herself, gotta keep it together. You've fought alongside -Ryu-. Make him proud!
Sakura shakes herself a little, briefly and almost violently, then finally notices Hamada (who gets a wave) and the bag. "Huh. Just getting in from somewhere, Zaki?" she asks, in a more normal tone of voice. It's a reasonable question, isn't it?
As a streetfighting tomboy herself, Hamada does count as a bit of a fan. She'd never admit in front of Zaki that she has a poster on her wall depicting the 2005 'Rising Dragons', but she she certainly does-- even if there's a big pink heart drawn around the brawny American wrestler instead of the waiflike and deceptively powerful teenager. Not all the rumours about the Ladies' Team are true! Narrowly dodging a sukeban-shaped bullet as her 'told you so' is summarily ignored the bandanna'd girl-gangster slips ditches her burden for a few moments to throw a big grin from Sakura to her canine, bounding forward to accept the unspoken invitation.
Aoi disregards the animal entirely, her attention fixed on Kasugano as she makes with the embarassing small talk, a glint of dark humour - really, she doesn't know any other kind - sparking her gaze as she settles from her initial spurt of aggression, arms shifting to fold about her chest. The chain flaps against her front, jangling a sharp melody before it comes to a rest, no longer a direct threat.
"Just leaving," she replies in that deep, steel-edged voice to the question, darting her stare downward to take in the other girl's attire. She doesn't ask such obvious things herself-- it's obvious why Sakura is here, and the soft grunt she admits is nothing short of condescending in its attempt to communicate precisely HOW much she doesn't NEED to ask. "Haven't seen you around lately at all. Maybe I don't get up early enough?" Her head cants to one side with that, brow lifting on one side as the other eye narrows. She's smirking, behind the choking leather, and this is about as plain as her expressions get - outside of genuine anger.
"Not been causing any trouble lately, Kasugano. Almost disappointed. Figured you'd be on your way, too, though. Not like you to miss out on a tournament, least of all when it's for a humanitarian cause." A snort at that, saying exactly what she thinks of such causes. Like people don't spend enough time not caring about problems closer to a home - as far as Aoi's concerned, it's just a way of ignoring what matters. Like gangs invading Southtown and forcing her to bust them up on their own turf. "Out of practice, are you?"
Sakura would blush if she knew about that poster. Well, maybe. She's gotten kind of used to the whole celebrity aspect, and unlike Ryu, she doesn't shy away from it. But, unlike Ken, she doesn't seek it out either. It's just a thing... in many ways, a distraction from the real business. In that aspect she takes more after Ryu, for sure. Shiro (the dog) happily occupies Hamada's time and interest, ruffing and licking at her face and hands as she scruffs and pets the canine, and Sakura pays that only the briefest of minds. There's something about the way Zaki is acting...
Now that she's not off-balance, Sakura relaxes a little more, at least in demeanor, but Zaki's intensity is undeniable, and her senses are too attuned to not pick up on it. "Been busy," she says, flippantly, though really, she -does- get up pretty early, usually. "And we don't go to the same schools," she adds, -not- adding that she doubts how much Zaki actually goes to school... at least on a regular basis.
Oh, yeah. The tournament. She did hear about that. Even signed up for it. "That deal in Sunshine City? I was gonna leave in a couple of days," she says, offhandedly, confirming that she is in fact gonna be there. There are some things she can miss, like calculus, and some she can't, like challenging Karin Kanzuki to a hot dog eating contest. And tournaments.
"Out of practice... hah, you wish. I probably practice more than you've got girls in your -gang-, Zaki," she replies, a smirk settling on her lips as she crosses her arms. Dismissing that, she continues on. "Never been to Sunshine City but from what I've heard..."
"It's a warzone."
Zaki finishes the sentence without missing a beat, shifting her footing to shift her vulpine stare to one side; through no coincidence whatsoever fixating upon the horizon in the direction of the United States. Both eyes narrow now, her forehead pinching as she considers the ramifications of her own statement. For Aoi, life is a constant battleground - whatever she's doing, it's just another part of the fight, another reason to stand tall and endure. Another reason to lash out. Even walking down the street takes on a whole new meaning when your public perception is so important that you can't lower the metaphorical mask, let alone the physical one.
"The tournament's not my thing, I don't do that shit," Devil's Tournament not withstanding. Though that can probably account for the thicker-than-usual bitterness creeping through her tone. She took a severe - if hardly shameful - beating there. "But if you're up to scratch..." Slowly her gaze rolls baco to Kasugano, a rebalancing of the hip setting her idle chain to a brief rattle. "Could do with having you around, Sakura." It's unusual to use the other girl's first name, and even more that she says it with something approaching actual /warmth/, admitting at once a possible weakness and an echo of respect. Hamada looks up briefly, her mouth hanging open a moment before she remembers herself an turns back to Shiro with a giggle.
It's gone as quick as it comes, anyway, tone once more brusque and hard.
"There's bad things going down. Got half my girls in the city-- making trouble, until I stop them. Serious business. Gang leader called Abobo, some kind of weirdass cult following." It's rolled off in a manner that would lead to anybody else spitting to one side; fortunately, the mask prevents that kind of behaviour. "Tch. Tournaments are usually bad news too. Maybe you'll find something fighting. If you do--"
Her shoulders lift in a shrug. She doesn't want to actually ask the question. Maybe it's 'beneath' her.
"This is bigger than a trophy or some deluded charity. Whatever's blighting Sunshine already made it over here, to the /streets/, not to Seijyo. Got people screaming at me left and right to pull out, but this is bigger than my pride. Could be bad news for all of us. You should watch your back, too."
'Not that you generally have much trouble', says the playful edge of sarcasm in her booming voice.
Well, that was blunt, wasn't it? Didn't they just -have- a war? Isn't there a cooldown period? A refractory period, or something like that? Sakura frowns. "A warzone. When you say that, do you mean like, a -warzone-, or... is it like Metro City only worse?" Because there's a difference between out and out war and the kind of situation that was found in the gritty action flicks of the mid-to-late 80s and early 90s that Sakura used to illicitly devour.
She doesn't miss that brief tone of respect, or the use of her first name, but out of deference to Zaki's 'cool guy' image, and the fact that she doesn't want to get punched in the mouth with a fistful of steel chain, she lets it pass. "Cults, gangs... huh. Sounds like a King of Fighters thing," she quips, lightly, though the brown eyes show a good measure of concern. Gone are the days when she was a simple, wide-eyed, 'bring it on' type--she goes in with both eyes open now--but if Zaki's actually getting involved, well, that's definitely noteworthy. She comes to a quick decision and pulls her phone out of the pocket of her warmup jacket and flips it open. "Here's my phone number," she says, bringing the number up and facing the screen towards Zaki, long enough for her to get the number memorized. "Anything comes up, you call me," she says.
Hey, they got through that weirdass conspiracy plot a few years ago, right? Tucking the phone away, she gives Zaki another look, speculative.
"What else can you tell me 'bout the place?" As some like to say, forewarned is forearmed.
"One flashfire on a planet strewn with kindling, I'm afraid." The war that purportedly spreads through Sunshine's streets. The rise of dark cultists and violent criminals. Inevitable with the vacuums of power found nearly literally around the entire globe, with weakened nations and festering wounds. The voice surprises even Shiro, likely inspiring a bark. When Hyo first speaks, he's somewhere overhead. Eyes would naturally be drawn to the nearest streetlight, recently flickered out in the gathering light of dawn. By the time anyone can look, the ninja is already at street level, at the very edge of the sidewalk, just beyond the three girls and their canine companion.
By all appearances, Imawano lands already in a statuesque stance, one hand held evenly behind his back, bent at the elbow, while the fingertips of his other hand rest lightly upon the burnished brass capping the pommel of the katana at his hip. A familiar weapon, and a familiar face, for both girls. "I believe events have been set into motion that go beyond Sunshine City. Our world is in peril." Hyo's calm, professional tones are deep, ever so slightly melodic. Coached to icy politesse, even-handed even with, or perhaps due to that dispassionate clarity. "The war may go far deeper than any of us know." Ominous, and troubling - even to Imawano Hyo. That much is clear even within the Justice High President's stoic features, as one white gloved hand rises to stroke his chin in consternation. "Within Sunshine City, and without. If you plan to delve into this, be careful."
He may have picked up a few of the things they were talking about. Even if he weren't in his more standard Justice uniform, dark hues scarcely offset by the spreading light, Hyo is reportedly perfectly capable of getting around being highly visible in his ninja comings, and ninja goings. Is Hyo concerned for their personal well-being? For the safety of those who live in Sunshine City? "It could prove quite easy to make the entire thing worse, I suspect." He's not really condescending to them. It's just Hyo; after all, how was it Zaki put it? Life is a constant battleground. It's been like that for the master swordsman since /before/ he could walk. This is just the next step in that endless war, and war... war never changes.
Zaki actually lets out a dry chuckle at the spunky tomboy's probing, the kind that for any normal person would likely be accompanied by a scratching of the chin or a furtive neckrub. Aoi doesn't otherwise change tone or stance, simply admitting with the tiniest of shrugs, "The second one." A couple of thoughts trickle through, and an amused gleam alights in her tired eyes before she adds, "It's like a Fei Long movie."
Or that other guy. But she doesn't like to talk about him. The point's well made-- two-bit thugs lining every street corner, in an array of cutely matching costumes, just waiting for a reliable protagonist to come up and beat them into tar. Reality's not like the movies when the action starts, but the analogy works until then. Sakura knows. She's protagonist material; and Aoi might just be relying on that fact somewhere down the line.
A perfunctory nod graces the comment about King of Fighters. Zaki's history in the tournament - hell, in any tournament - hasn't been so storied as the Ansatsuken prodigy's, and her concerns tend to be more local. She's got a lot of people to watch out for at home. But she keeps her ear well to the ground. Creepy hoodoo hasn't come up, yet, but when men are running around with snake tattoos and sending cloaked figures to whisper in the ears of fighting schoolgirls, it's only a matter of time before the mystical shit hits the fan.
The phone number is indeed memorized, at no more than a briefly lingering glance. She might not spend much time at school, but there's a reason Aoi still manages to ace most of her exams. There's a good head on those shoulders, for numbers... for information in general.
Her reply to the second question goes unsaid, her senses flaring an alarm in the precise instant that Hyo opens his mouth to speak-- she's too slow to get the jump on him, but at least in microscopic terms she does manage to pre-empt him. A shame she'll still seem to lash her glare upward /after/ he makes himself known. Another point to the Justice swordsman. If she's begun to show her warmth to Sakura, well...
As Hyo appears, Zaki is an ice queen. Her very aura seems to harden as it freezes over.
Darting her pupils back toward her he is /now/, the sukeban lowers both arms from her chest. The right remains just above hip level, palm turned down but clearly assuming something very close to a defensive position - she trusts Imawano as far as he'd be inclined to let her throw him, accounting also for the sharp, jangling swoosh as the left hand spins that chain around at her opposite flank. Those stunning blue eyes are blazing slits as she hears the much-resented shinobi out, emitting a harsh scoff as soon as he appears to be done.
"Nobody asked for your opinion, Imawano. Don't remember asking you to crawl out from your elitist rock, either. Time to shake the peasants down for your annual brainwashing tax, is it?" It's a wildly inaccurate allegation, but Zaki doesn't care in the slightest. She's more than aware, like she's aware of the hypocrisy in a Himezaki accusing anyone of wealth-born elitism. But it's just one little needle from the thousands she's willing to sling to keep her face in front of the ivory-haired youth. "There's no plan /to/ delve. I'm delved. Half my girls, a couple of outsiders who know their stuff..." And maybe Kasugano, she says with a sideward twitch of her vulpine gaze. "However deep this goes, we'll handle it. One way or another. Or did you want to join us?"
As if were a dumb boy asking to join the tea party; she doesn't attempt to render that any less mocking.
"Gosh, it's just like the opening to one of my favorite anime shows!" Sakura's voice is cheerful and dryly sardonic--and a well-timed effort to hide the bit of shock she gets when Hyo just... shows up. Goddamn ninjas. They're' so... -ninjay-. Sakura gives the white-haired Imawano scion a look--not reproachful or dismissive, but very much a 'when did YOU get here'. At that moment, Shiro whines a little, and -that- clearly conveys, 'what, you didn't smell -him- either? What kind of dog -are- you?' Sakura shoots her dog a Look(tm), then turns to the gang leader and the... samurai... ninja...? Whatever.
"Then I guess it's a good thing we're going, because if there's anything years and years and years of watching anime has taught me, it's that plucky schoolkids can -always- save the day." She sounds joking, but only halfway so, thinking back to that 'incident'. And they did save the day, at least in some respects.
"Looking at the news the past few months, I guess I have to agree with you, Imawano. We can't fight all the fires, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't fight the ones we can. And if there are problems in Sunshine City, calling down a bunch of fighters for a tournament seems like a bad idea, to me at least," she finishes. Yeah, her run's over. She was already on the seventh mile, though, so it's alright. She'll make it up later.
Zaki's hostility to Hyo is... not unexpected... but man, she hopes the chaingirl can keep it under control. The last thing they need is a swords vs. chains fight out here in the street at dawn. The world's starting to wake up, slowly but surely, the distant sounds of a city in the process of waking up growing closer by the moment. "Zaki," she says, quietly, almost but not quite reaching out to touch the sukeban on the forearm. The intent is there, if not the gesture. It isn't the time to dredge up the old problems, not with new ones on the horizon.
If Zaki's more poisonous chill has any impact on Hyo, it doesn't show in the young shinobi's features. He's just as placid, professional, intently focused as a moment before. There's even a slight sidelong dart of an eye with accompanying, arching platinum brow. If Imawano were anyone else, it would likely have been joined by /some/ sort of smile. The vaguest sort of amusement at the Seijyun rebel's outright ire; it probably doesn't do a lot to ease Zaki's mind. "I was not aware my comings and goings were part and parcel to your purview." He doesn't even /sound/ snarky. Just dismissive; but he /has/ to be messing with her, right?
Intense brown eyes level on Zaki, first. As Hyo turns, his gaze seems to arrive instants before; infamous eyes, eyes that bend minds to the Justice President's own will. Eyes that dissect styles far, far older than the young swordsmaster. There's a flicker of arctic white, high topknot arriving instants later, and Hyo just shakes his head. Again, it's not derogatory - he simply answers in the negatory. "For now, our assets and paths are different. I do hope you are correct." About her girls, handling it. About it already /being/ handled. The side of angels could use a win, of late. There's a degree of uncoaxed regret in the shinobi's dark eyes, at that. "I could use some good news."
Hyo treats Zaki's invitation like honest camaraderie. Passes over the insults and bad blood to cooperate further. All reports are that Imawano Hyo is /not/ an idiot, so it's safe to say he's not interested in the bait the Seijyun vigilante is using. Sakura's more measured response draws Hyo's attention smoothly, Justice High's most famous (and infamous) figure at first simply considering Kasugano evenly for his own part, and then nodding. It's a singular gesture, and not overly warm as such things go, but it's positively glowing next to how well Zaki's approach landed.
"Age and gender are irrelevant." the shinobi offers Sakura simply, modifying her joke to be decisively accurate, in his book. Yes, it's good they're going. Yes, they may even safe the day. Hyo manages to agree with that while noting that it has /nothing/ to do with being schoolgirls, which in turn means he doesn't really need to say /either/ of those other things.
"Be cautious - whatever forces move in Sunshine, I sense ancient power from within its borders. Hidden power." Something the ninja knows a great deal about, from numerous sources. Imawano Hyo is, sadly, unsure to what ends these forces move. Seldom are things so easily decided by prophecy, and Hyo leaves his conclusions, as yet, undrawn.
The admiration that Sakura's won throughout the world - for fighting and other actions - isn't due solely to her talent or her tendency to favour audiences with upskirts. Her enthusiasm is infectious, her sense of humour playful and cheeky without being obvious posturing; she's just naturally likable, at least to anyone not on the receiving end of a beatdown. Looking deeper than the facade, behind the mask that /everyone/ wears to some extent, it still rings true even for the judgemental and unforgiving likes to Aoi Himezaki.
Which is why she doesn't snap or snarl when a hand shifts toward her, the gentle uttering of her moniker taken not as further challenge but actually in the spirit it's intended. Ironically bitter that of the three people and a dog present, the one she's got most in common with probably is the ivory-haired ninja. But whatever the scarlet-haired sukeban's reasons, the only one capable of holding her at bay is the one who tries to.
Sakura's actions are, whether by clear judgement or luck, pitched perfectly to counteract Hyo's baiting.
"Kuso," mutters the delinquent darkly, a shake of her head dispelling her raised ire as best she can, one last swoop and rattle sounding from the readied chain before it slaps to a halt against one toned thigh. "He's playing like he's on our damn side, Kasugano." It's pitched low but quite audible, her gaze not shifting from the foremost Justice student even though she speaks as if he's not there. The games they play. "Oi," she raises her voice suddenly, a cold bark seeking to divert Hyo's attention back to her.
"Everything that happens on these streets matters to me, Imawano. Don't act like we're not the same in that. You draw that sword and I hear about it sooner or later; just like you've got your little informants even amongst my girls." Oh yes, she's aware of how far his influence extends, and it's not as though Justice High is an island as concerns the membership of the Ladies' Team. Five thousand covers a lot of bases. "But since we're at ceasefire," A quiet but pronounced snort at that, "I'll take your advice in that spirit. Not hanging around to banter about eldritch power and secret fucking ninja scrolls, though." Her gaze slips to Sakura, lips quirking beneath the mask. "Got a plane to catch, places to be, faces to break."
Or more accurately, errant schoolgirls to bring to heel. But that sounded better.
"Come on, Hamada."
Still squatted on the floor beside Shiro, the hoop-bedecked girl flicks widened eyes between all the bigger players. She hasn't said anything - because really, you don't go greeting someone like Hyo in the same manner you do Sakura Kasugano, no matter what you think of him. He holds the same level of fear and respect among the young populace as Zaki herself, and arguably deserves it more. Still, it's Zaki who commands her loyalty, and she rises to follow the sukeban, flipping a cheery salute to Sakura and a surreptitious bow of the head to Imawano. She's the chief of the Seijyun Welcoming Committee; she has to observe some etiquette.
True to her word, Aoi isn't intending to hang about, but she does stop just before leaving the conversation, shifting vulpine eyes back over her shoulder to alight one last time upon Kasugano. In truth, she trusts the fighting prodigy to relay anything important Hyo says - but she doesn't communicate that. Rather there's that gleam of humour in her gaze once more as she addresses something that's been nagging at her. It's important.
"Just how much practice /is/ five thousand, anyway? Guess you'll have to show me sometime soon."
Or not important. But for Zaki, it's the equivalent of asking her to go to the mall and drink milkshakes.
"Later. Let's do lunch sometime, Imawano."
Without looking at him, she starts to walk away. There's no need to illustrate the true spirit of her parting comment.
It is somewhat amazing that there hasn't been an explosion yet. Sakura is pretty much resigned to the thought that she's gonna have to step between Zaki and Hyo to keep the two from tearing each other apart, and she -really- doesn't want to do that. That's the kind of position in a fight where you get to get hit by two people at the same damn time.
Fortunately, Zaki backs down, and Sakura, (who doesn't trust Hyo -at all-), gives the white-haired ninja a short nod. She doesn't hate him, not the way Zaki does, but she understands why Zaki would. Hyo has no small measure of cojones just to show up like this. Still. Other problems.
"We'll be careful," she tells the Imawano, as graciously as she can. After all, he -is- playing like he's on their side, and even though she may not believe it, there's no point in antagonizing him. As Zaki walks off, and Hamada follows, Shiro returns to Sakura's side; she reaches down, absently, and rubs the top of the dog's head.
"It's a lot," she tells Zaki, with a little laugh, and then she turns as well. "See ya 'round, Imawano," she tosses, over her shoulder, as she starts jogging away, Shiro trotting along next to her as if the tension level in the room hadn't stretched to the high-wire point, relaxed only in the slightest by Zaki's leaving. It's a good thing Hyo isn't coming along... because Sakura doesn't know if her heart could take the tension. Geez.
"C'mon, Shiro, I think mom's got breakfast on the table already and I'm hungry." The dog responds with a woof as the Ansatsuken prodigy turns the corner, her footsteps fading away into the dawn as a garbage truck starts rumbling up the street.
It's not a response that Hyo is unfamiliar with. It's a sentiment that has been echoed dozens, perhaps hundreds of times since the incident a few years back where he had the best and brightest of -all- the schools rounded up, and brainwashed them himself. Even without Sakura Kasugano playing peacemaker, it would be difficult to bring Imawano to blows over that, here and now. After all, Hyo himself was a brainwashed pawn in his own plot, a fact that has not escaped his notice. Still, it's clear that the shinobi does not resent the ill will, not really.
It took him some time to realize they /were/ coming at the same thing, in their own very different ways. Even without the efforts of diplomacy to defuse the tension, the Justice blademaster has no intention of coming to blows with either Zaki or Sakura. It would constitute a rather profound failure of his mission. The sigh is all but inaudible as Zaki and Sakura give him versions of the same story varied by politeness and attitude, and remains silent as both the other students move off.
Silent, or simply gone - once eyes leave the cursed prodigy of the Imawano line, there is no sign he was ever there, no ivory-haired warrior on either side of the street, nor as far as the eye can see.
Log created on 19:45:52 06/06/2012 by Zaki, and last modified on 23:51:06 06/06/2012.