Description: In the immediate wake of one shinobi comes another, this one bearing the blade of cold truth; rather than hunting for it. Hyo Imawano extends a offer to his former enemy, the scarlet-haired Zaki, who is forced to challenge her own convictions and strive to overcome the bitter tang of vitriol in considering the implications of an alliance she would never have considered...
Andy Bogard is an interesting sort of ninja. Well trained, talented, and focused, he makes it work even with a decidedly less than subtle wardrobe, and overall attitude. While many portions of that may frequently apply to the Bogard Brother's tailing also-ninja, it is hard to say that Hyo does not have a fine grasp of the long game, of the ways of the shadows themselves. It's not something most think upon first meeting the Justice swordsman - particularly when he happens to be resplendent in school formalwear - nor is it something many men who claim to be /half/ as forthright as Imawano are very comfortable with.
The deceptively young shinobi knows the truth; he knows that war never changes. He knows that intelligence and counterintelligence operations are the backbone, the central conduit of any sweeping campaign; the most prized implement in the master general's arsenal. So it is that like Zaki, Hyo's men have been swiftly deployed. Unlike the Seijyun warleader, Justice's premiere shinobi's people are scattered scarcely throughout Sunshine City, researching and shadowing targets deemed to be of strategic value by the silver-haired ninja himself.
For his part, Imawano has been living within the city for some time now, mostly under everyone's radar. He came out to fight his bout; a bout decidedly destined for Dudley. He came out to take a final measure of Johann Gallo, the man he stalked personally for some time beforehand. He came out to confront the White Dragon, but the confused girl bearing that blade scarcely knows what it's meant to cut; that, Hyo, will simply take time. Where Zaki has confronted the flow of the gangbangers, engaged everything she has in an ongoing, desperate struggle of territory.. demanded that they stop here, Hyo has held his own forces back. Kept his presence in Sunshine City quiet, his plans a secret, even his top lieutenants and allies operate only just out of sight.
This isn't to say that the Justice scion does not respect or understand Aoi Himezaki's efforts, however - no, it is largely Zaki's proactive, stubborn solidarity that allows Hyo the openings he has sought in addressing the many shrouded layers of the conflict before them both. He alluded to it before, back in Southtown; spooking Sakura and souring Zaki on their morning treks. While neither of them might want him to, it behooves Hyo to make good on his own intentions, leveraging a structure and joint organization built carefully over the last several years as he turns his attention from Southtown, to the global stage; THAT's sure to relieve Zaki to no end.
At any rate, present time, the best thing for Hyo about Andy Bogard's infiltration is it makes a secondary infiltration even easier for the expert ninja. Had he not come here to speak with Zaki (as well as suss out Andy's true motives and nature), it's entirely probable that the Seijyun slum citadel as a whole would never have known he was there. Were Hyo from Gedo, this might be a hell of an opportunity for a panty raid. "You shouldn't lie to the man." Hyo notes softly. "Or at least, enjoy it so much."
The ninja is a dark reflection of Zaki herself, clad in black assassin's garb outfitted with strategic, modern armor. His features are masked, his hood covering bound silver hair entirely. Only a strip of skin, enough to expose intent, intense dark eyes, is spared; those eyes fix on Zaki herself. "Or have you suddenly decided that the /tournament/ is what will save the soul of Sunshine City? Has this taste of guerilla war, the permanent marks on the schoolgirls-turned-soldiers who followed you here, truly soured you on rash action?" Is Imawano Hyo /mocking/ her?
Disbelieving, might be the better word; perhaps even baiting. The ninja, for god knows how long, is perched all but entirely concealed in the room's upper north corner. The ragged hole in the upper wall, well above eye level in the massive central room, used to be ductwork for a similarly impressive heating and cooling system. Now, it's a corner stacked with haphazard pallets and crates, and also one ninja. Hyo rolls smoothly off his perch, making no sound as he drops into the room, save the scattering of dust across the precipice. He drops soundlessly, rises gracefully, and turns right side facing Zaki, eyes once more intent upon her.
The infamous shinobi's left hand rests loosely on that deadly sword at his hip. "/Do/ you know where Abobo is?" Curious. A curiousity that's not telling her something. Does /he/ know where Abobo is?
Hyo, and men like him, are wrong about one thing: war does change. It may never fundamentally shift from being what it is - a violent means of exerting control and gaining power, for alternately defending or expanding one's territories, but the machinations that drive it and the tactics that form the backbone for the endless shifting of momentum leading to a victory? Those change by necessity. History may repeat, in the fullness of time, but moves in loops rather than circles. Yesterday's stratagem is rendered weak and predictable, but those of the week before? They may be the future. Change is perpetual. It has to be.
Without change, how is men ever to better himself?
Aoi Himezaki is a bitter, violent girl-- despite her wealth and privilege, the things she has witnessed upon the streets of her hometown, and the reports she hears incessantly pouring from the tangled wires of the modern media, have driven her to be a rageful dervish, a storm sweeping the arid desert. What results may seem destructive, catastrophic for some who venture too close or are simply ill-prepared, but her ultimate aim is to cleanse rather than destroy. A force of nature acts because of, and for, the greater good. Why else would such a thing exist under natural law? Zaki considers herself a necessary evil, for a given value of the term.
There are creatures far worse than she, after all, and Hyo Imawano is one of them.
His voice is unexpected as she remains motionless in the immediate departure of Bogard, closing her eyes for just a moment to drown out the background babbling of her subordinates, steeling herself to leave the room and clean up after the shinobi's incursion to her ramshackle lair. He's left some bruises and damaged egos, no doubt; and she cares about that, and not just because she requires the loyalty and fitness of her girls. Recent events are beginning to make her doubt if she even needs that of them. The more this battle persists, the further they spin their wheels to no immediate avail... yes, she has doubts. But this insidious phantom of her past - a past she cannot escape, perhaps never will - is not one by whom she wishes to be reminded of it.
She stiffens at the surprise, but does not jump. Aoi never does. She's never visibly afraid or concerned, the leather mask the least part of the mummer's farce she has adopted for so long that it's become natural and normal. Identifying the interloper is simple even without looking, and his portrait meets her gaze in the eye of her mind even before she opens her very real, blue vulpine eyes to meet his own. Their intensity is an apt mirror of each other's; the coldness, even, the chill so deep it could burn. She hates that. It has occurred to the sukeban before that she may share a great deal with Imawano, and she hates this too.
"There's no saving what cannot be saved." Her immediate response is booming beneath choking leather, though her voice is pitched softly enough by her standards, almost musing in its nature - more coolly philosophical than touched by the slump of defeatism. "If people want to believe in an immortal soul, that's their business; I believe that when it's dead, it /stays/ dead. This isn't about the past, it's not even about making the present better. It's about the future. If stamping a hole through the middle of this sleazy city rids the world of a menace, that's one less to bother those who come next, it's one more step toward..."
Suddenly she gives a toss of her head, the scarlet length of her iconic ponytail lashing through the air, jagged bangs moving in sympathy before settling once more about her forehead and eyes. For one ludicrous, pointless moment Zaki reflects how long it's been since she had a good night's sleep, ate... or showered. This whole building reeks of the absence of proper life. But that's war, isn't it? That's life on the battlefield.
Before she can resume, finish saying what she's said a thousand times in a thousand ways, he asks her the most important question he possibly could, right now. Needling, incisive intellect that the silver-haired boy has, he strikes not just a nerve but through to the very crux. Zaki almost laughs.
"No," is her bluntly honest response, coldly blazing stare settling sidelong now upon the stealthy figure. A shoulder rolls back in a lazy shrug, setting to faintest jangling the chain concealed within that sleeve. "I don't. That's the truth of it. You want to tear through my brains and try to get a better look, you'll get nothing more than this..." Her words tail off as she draws a breath, then takes a step toward him, but not to be so confrontational as she was with Andy. Aoi is tired, and she's past hiding it from everyone. Her gloved hands come down upon the back of a battered wooden chair, her posture sinking over it as she leans.
"My best guess is he's somewhere past this point, in that maze of factories, warehouses and broken dreams. I pushed in hard and fast, confronted a man in a cloak who wanted to arrange a meeting. He gave me the name, and I've been waiting-- hell, no, /fighting/ ever since. Holding this position. Trying to keep my girls from pillaging the whole outer city while they wait. I've waited too fucking long, and if you're here to tell me that just... leave, Imawano." Suddenly her eyes glint, a dangerous edge seeping in-- more then her usual, she actually looks frayed and vulnerable in spite of the obvious aggression. "Just leave. I've got enough people breathing down my neck, framing /me/ as the criminal, but doing jack shit to help. It's a role I'm willing to play, if it makes a difference, but that doesn't mean I'll dance on your puppet strings. You got that?"
She heaves a sigh, breath hissing hard against leather and buckles. It calms her, but the energy leaves her voice.
"Why are you here, Imawano? Really?"
Ah, but it remains the very changes necessitated by that fundamental struggle that define war: for resources, for control, for power. The need to advance technology and tactics, to acquire secret, sometimes sacred lore. Were there not always a new force willing to prey on the weak or the predictable, to exploit the patterns for their own ascension, to try to take that which others value enough to defend by force, be it a shackling treasure personal or material that pushes them to that life or death precipice. That point where /everyone/ with their lot drawn behind that particular arbitrary line, with that particular birth-given or self-seized monicker decides the entire affair /demands/ blood, souls, livelihoods.. perhaps for generations to come.
War never changes because man demands a certain standard of betterment, bereft of enlightenment, projecting only the pretense of compassion. It's the predictable patterns of eager kings, executives, capos that ensures that men like Imawano Hyo will never be devalued; the true generals. "Let's not waste each other's time by dissecting metaphor for pedantry." Hyo coldly suggests. Despite the brusque nature of the words, there's no disrespect or distaste present in them; it's simple retort, rebuttal. Zaki's attitude clashing icily with the shinobi's own.
No, he doesn't care what people want to think of the energy fields and entities of the universe - debating belief has never been a high priority for the deadly son of Mugen Imawano. He doesn't even offer his personal feelings on the subject, and as we said, there's no disrespect in the shinobi's silken speech. After all, "I assure you, Zaki..." It's entirely crisp, frank, polite. He even uses the name she prefers. "We do agree." He doesn't bother illustrating the circumstances of his 'rehabilitation'. He does, however, leave it out there - between the lines.
"My mind here is my own, and I have no intention of restricting yours. As I told you before, I trust you to do the right thing here; however painful." Most men would be sad at the turn of events, the nature of things in the city, the memory of battle that will linger on in flesh and mind and spirit for as long as this band is tied to Seijyun, to Zaki, to one another.. and beyond. The ninja, however, remains stoic. Cold and crisp as the surface of a winter lake on a windless morning, Hyo nonetheless looks away from Zaki of his own volition after those words, not so much as a tremor on the edge of her mind from the Imawano clan's nefarious, legendary techniques.
"I'm here because I'm keenly aware of the position you've put yourself in." It's not condescension, to Hyo's mind: simply fact. "Your people are run ragged, you yourself are going to be no use to anyone in about another thirty-six hours, and the only reason you're holding this ramshackle fortress is whoever's decided you're the perfect scapegoat doesn't want to flush you out and stop the violence, yet." What was she saying about incisive? Hyo remains too calm, too confident, too focused about the entire affair, despite the doom-and-gloomsaying.
"Martyring yourself to an American prison isn't going to keep the world from devouring itself, Zaki." Imawano notes darkly, "Any more than staying there or sacrificing yourself to one of these wandering idiots would be anything but a cheap excuse to stay out of it.. instead of lamenting that at best you are simply sating its hunger at individual meals." It's a feeling the shinobi knows well. Always a new threat, a new darkness, eight other sides moving when one decides on a course. "I'm here because I can help you, and you can help me." That part is foward, no pretense or poetry. "Because you need more manpower, and a new plan you can't execute with fatigued troops pinned in on all sides."
Hyo turns back to face Zaki, once more eyeing her over his right shoulder, "Because I /do/ know where Abobo's men are operating from, the core of their swarming patrols; where we can find him, or at least, some answers... if we move quickly." Anyone but Hyo would be smiling.
Resentment and bitterness are the easy response to Hyo Imawano; even tired and relatively unguarded as he's found her in the wake of his departing fellow hunter, Zaki has to continually bite the urge to respond with sarcasm and vitriol. His mind is his own, indeed, and in no small part thanks to those who suffered when it purportedly wasn't-- or when he needed help, she forgets which at this stage, losing sight of the real man within a storm of recollected suffering. How many were injured in /that/ battle? Southtown's youth were almost consumed wholesale, and it took all that she had - all that they all had - to bring it to a close.
Their reward was a return to eternal stalemate, to squabblesome in-fighting and a resumption of the posturing that brought them into such awkward conflict to begin with. Aoi is one of the foremost detractors from the general peace between schools, infamous in her ruthless pursuit of those she considers to infringe upon her ideals and territory both. But to most of those she wars with, against, there is ultimately respect. Daigo Kazama is one of the very few men she'd trust with her life, and even his subordinates - unruly as she, or worse - maintain a certain level within the mind behind the mask. She'd fight with them again, if she had to.
The man before her is quite another story. It's all she can stand not to just punch him in the damn mouth.
It makes his uttered truths all the more cutting, like withstanding forty lashes from a blind cripple.
"They'll not keep me in a cell, Imawano," she utters wearily, voice still booming as it naturally must; but somewhere she's lost the anger she feels, drifting in translation from embittered gut to usually-sharp tongue. 'Grow'. The word moves through her thoughts again, and she utters a curse. "Kuso..." A tight little spitting thing that's gone as quickly as it comes, no more than a tic. She pushes against the chair, forcing herself to right even as her aching back protests, as every muscle in her body begs for further respite. "I don't want your help," she continues with a sigh, the pitch of her voice actually rising slightly as all that fine-tuned control begins to slip-- the change is so subtle, but a man like Hyo would notice. This is the real Zaki, unrefined, the act dropped. It's alarmingly similar to one who's not observed her closely. "You know that."
Her eyes find his again, narrowing, the flesh of her brow furrowing into habitual lines. Few people spend the time frowning or glaring that Aoi does, and it's started to affect what may once have been a very beautiful face, away from the callous and cruel image she projects. Beneath the mask, her mouth is a grim line, and as she pauses she's fighting off a wave of nauseous realization. She doesn't want it, no, of course not...
"I hate everything you are. I hate your stupid, smug face. I hate the pseudo-fascist policies you represent."
But even so?
"I hate your pretension and your conceit. I hate that you remain so fucking /calm/ through everything."
But even so...
"And I hate that when I look into your eyes, I see myself staring back. It makes me sick."
Zaki draws a deep breath, releasing it in a shudder that wracks her lithe frame, breast sinking beneath the dark, stained cloth of her uniform. It ripples down through the tightly-wound muscles of her abdomen - too tight, of late, strained almost to breaking point - and through those long legs that remain the same way. It's an attempt to release tension that simple cannot be undone, to loose knots so tautly pulled as to be nigh-permanent; if Hyo's been watching, he'll know she has support. Could have accepted even more, if her former visitor is any indication of that. But she's a stubborn, wilful girl. Her greatest strength is her weakness.
"But even so," she states with quiet bordering on gentle, for Aoi, "You're right. You piece of shit." That rage is still there, because it's genuine, as is her intense dislike for the shadow warrior standing before her. But beneath the mask, she's actually smiling, the expression reaching her eyes along with the welling of frustrated tears... just for the smallest possible instant, before the emotion conjuring them is brutally repressed. Zaki shifts position with a swish of skirts and chains, her heel shrieking momentarily across the industrial stone underfoot. Her chin lifts, and she considers Justice's foremost student for a long moment before nodding.
"I'm not bending the knee, but tell me your plan, Imawano. It took more than just me to stop /you/, and I've already accepted I can't do this alone... if the enemy of my enemy is my friend, I suppose that applies even to those I'd gladly kill for the greater good. War makes strange bedfriends of us all." She pauses again, as if chewing over her own words, casting her gaze down toward the floor, vulpine slits blazing with the depth of thought. This is a huge step for her-- it hurts just as much as she makes out, flaying her pride. It's as close to a bended knee as she's ever come, and perhaps ever will. "But I'm doing this for them. Not for me."
Her gaze lifts, meets his, and for the first time she /really looks/ at Hyo Imawano.
"I believe... maybe you understand that, after all. Do you?"
There's no mistaking the loathing in the Seijyun gangboss' demeanour; in he words, both spoken and not. Imawano Hyo knows it, he knew it before he came here, confirmed it for certain only weeks before. It's likely a large part of why he speaks so precisely and certainly, cutting through all the barbs and debates to the heart of the issue facing them. Hyo knows that Zaki tries to hate him, as hard as she can.. he even has his own theories as to why, perhaps part and parcel or alien to the one she offers up, in the midst of her bitter diatribe.
Imawano makes no apologies for the brutal tragedy that played out as his command and personal hand in Southtown. No excuses for the kidnapped, brainwashed warriors who would forge a new order from the ashes of the decadent old one. While his father had foreseen just that opportunity before his death, in his undoing at the hands of the united schools, the shinobi saw a strength that, according to his lessons and outlook, should not exist. It was not solely Zaki's, but her acidic tenacity is certainly a vital core of the coalition that countered Hyo's master plan. Then, he had scarcely started high school, but as now... Imawano's eyes, his bearing are those of a warrior, a killer many times his senior. Perhaps sometimes blind, but scarcely crippled.
The ninja weathers the bitter concessions and insults with nary a flinch or snicker or clench of jaw, walking the circuit of the room slowly, considering not Zaki but the structure around her. Only once she's finished, several moments after, does the carefully spoken shinobi offer the beginnings of a response, "I understand.. that if you would have me killed for the good of the world, you are often troubled and soured by a terrifying and unshakably dark view of your own impact here." Hyo pauses, before appending smoothly, "That you likely have a very narrow grasp of proceeding events and frequently confused correlation with causation in punishing your mistakes and analyzing your strategies."
It's not really Imawano's place to hypothesize on how this may all go back to her father or mother's particular eccentricities, and how very fervently she keeps her deviance alive. Anyway, that -was- what she was asking, wasn't it? Oh, right. Without missing a beat, "Of /course/ it's for them. However much you want to pretend it /isn't/ true, we're all in this together." It's just terrifying, because almost no one wants to admit it. She did, however, ask a far more pressing question.
A query borne of logistics, and monsters. "A side effect of the strengthening patrols is that the large groups are easier to track and pinpoint to patterns. Since I arrived in Sunshine City I've been camped inside the Industrial district..." the impenetrable maze Zaki spoke of, bordering the compound they now occupy, for those just tuning in. "Scouting the movements and actions of patrols, I've concluded the - or at least /a/ - major operational headquarters is a massive warehouse complex in the heart of the district. I believe Abobo is there, along with the bodies of recent murder victims or abductees /someone/ wishes to keep very hidden, as of a very short time ago." If even one of these things is true, he doesn't need to explain the importance to the sukeban.
"What we need to do is devise a plan to more subtly and sustainably patrol the borderlands between Outer and Inner Sunshine, let them fall back and fortify, leave it at a stalemate while we strike /behind/ their lines, directly into the warehouse, and find out what this is actually about. I have the means, but I'm afraid the actual operational details will have to wait until I know you're actually onboard." After all, she seems just as likely to spit in his face at any moment, as far as Imawano can tell. "Once we're sure we're not leaving the populated sectors of the city vulnerable to sudden incursion and annexation, I can extract any of your people who need attention. Together, there should be enough manpower to maintain a defensive choke on Abobo's thugs." Particularly once a heavily armed strike force hammers into their very heart and hardened core.
Again his summation bites, spreading an infectious poison through the admittedly shallow wound it leaves. Truly enraging Aoi Himezaki, really digging into her psyche and gaining a rise that isn't precisely construed and controlled by the layer directly beneath - and tied to - her persona, is difficult. As hard as befriending her, even; though just as few know this fact as can call themselves her friend. She has a reputation for unleashing her rage, for berserk tendencies that stop most from daring to cross her. It benefits her, that, and Hyo likely knows this. That's the worst part. He says what he says /because/ it's true.
Because it needs to be said. Not to get a rise. Not to sling barbs.
Which is why Zaki does not respond, at first, merely continuing to stare at him as he in his turn continues speaking. What ensues is worth weathering the bitter storm, though her brow immediately darts upward as he claims to have camped behind the enemy line-- a fact she can at least consolidate as a fortunate side effect of being alone, of travelling through shadow as he does. That's not her way and has never been. She leads from the front of a band, not for her own safety but because she cannot set an example otherwise. The Ladies' Team is an endeavour designed to benefit those who pledge their loyalty. She can't claim to be entirely selfless, really; there's an element of self-glorification in it, as there always is with an ordained 'leader'. But her best intentions are well-intended - to mount the first, spreading wave of a stormy sea of change.
"You found it?" Murmurs Zaki when the warehouse is mentioned, brow lowering into that self-same frown as she considers the implications of this. Hyo's tactics are more than reasonable, and she appreciates the personal risk that has gone into such an endeavour; he downplays it, but she knows how thick and furious the fighting is past this guardian fortress. She survived herself, walked out with head held high even as she defended her lesser subordinates, but she couldn't have penetrated further even alone. Not without a great deal of luck.
But there's a catch to his plan. As always.
"But you want my girls to remain the diversion. You want them to spread out, attempt to maintain control?" She's honestly not sure they can - their unruliness is why she had to return, pledging that control to gain the support of Kasugano and Kurosaki. Of the detective who seems to have been lost in the shuffle of Sunshine's dangrous streets. So she infers as much. This is the time for honesty. "You've been watching them. Perhaps always have. Do you believe they're capable of that? Together, they're strong in numbers. Even separated into small groups..." She shakes her head, "I've trained them as best I can, but they're just girls. A coordinated patrol route isn't going to work. Not without leadership. I can't be everywhere."
It's a conundrum, but he's touched on something else. Her own loyalty. She broods a moment before addressing it, glancing toward a shaded corner of the ugly, devastated chamber. Pipes clank and shudder as though compelled by her piercing glare. And then she barks a laugh. Her words come with renewed spite, freshened by his verbal stabbing, "But you don't think I can even stand at your side, do you?"
It's tempered, though, her raised self-awareness, her willingness to grow... it's showing, bit by bit.
"You act so high and mighty, Imawano, with your precise words and your act that's..." She tails off with a chuckle, not so dark and resonant as those she tends toward, a more honest expression of mirth not tailored for the audience she, too, always performs for. "Your act that's just like mine. And yet you so completely fail to read me. Am I that impenetrable?" There's mirth lacing her words as she moves toward the nearby wall and leans back against it, rocking her head back. Outside her garb, she appears now very much like the frustrated teenage girl she is, until she shifts her gaze back to him and spreads her hands, "Am I everything I try to be? Have I become the monster I strive to create? I can't--" No. She scolds herself, head shaking abruptly.
"I /won't/ make it any clearer. I know my failings, and I accept them. You wouldn't be here if you didn't need my help just as much as I need yours; so let's concede together, to tolerate and trust, to put up with each other's incessant bullshit for a better fucking tomorrow. I won't ever tell you I'm yours, I won't ever 'follow' you or praise your name to those that ask. But," she draws and releases breath, her eyes closing a moment and a hand lifting to her temple, rubbing against the throbbing vein. Why does he have to draw this out? Does he, even? Or is something she's compelling herself toward, this frustration and anger?
She resumes speaking in that position, as though it takes everything to steel herself through it.
"I'm with you, Imawano. I won't stab you in the back, I won't try to usurp any leadership you require."
Her eyes open, no more blazing than she cannot stop them being.
"There. I've betrayed my own convictions. Do you think I'd do that if I didn't mean it?"
If Hyo is intimidated by his counterpart's legendary rage, he doesn't show it.. even when confronting her seemingly alone in her own lair. As much as Zaki may be stuck in a rut enviable for any career student, as much as Hyo may speak the truth as he sees it, she's right about one thing completely. The shinobi needs her help to make this work; or at least, to make it work to any kind of acceptable specifications. Without someone undertaking the action that Zaki put in the hands of the all-female goonsquad that normally guards the much more peaceful neighbourhoods around Seijyun, the danger and crime wave would likely be all the more abundant. It's not hard for Imawano to see where the hidden chessmaster might have been going with this war, before Zaki's people drew a line.
"You misunderstand me, Zaki." Hyo clears that part up, right away. "I don't distrust you because I find you nefarious." As he mentioned, he knows she isn't the problem here. "I mistrust you because you've stated my death advances a peaceful future. If I did not feel otherwise, I would cut you down in an instant, I would have simply come here to leave your head for the rest of your girls." Emphasis, perhaps, for dramatic force. "If you do not think you would do the same should you be sure of me beyond your bravado, then you do not know yourself as well as you profess." Of that angle, Imawano seems fully assured. Zaki is an idealist, in anarchist's clothing; it's got to be a hard life.
"You'll stand wherever you believe you must, but no. I am not asking you to spread your forces thin, I'm asking you to seperate out the ones that should no longer fight. We'll use the rest to present an illusion of presence, while our people deploy in secret. Should gang forces swell, we'll have a defensive perimeter to fall back and hold, without tipping anyone off that the dynamic has changed for as long as possible." Hyo expounds, "Most of my elite operatives are already deployed throughout the city gathering intelligence from other sources, but I can deploy several teams and provide more standard fire support to fall back on."
There is a small glint of a smile in Hyo's eyes, invisible even without the mask upon his lips, as the childlike general appends, "And we can provide several officers capable of organizing and engaging this fray on the front lines, and maintaining the aegis at least as long as it takes us to strike. I'm not asking you to abandon them, Zaki - but we need to reorganize, to free up the forces to end this attrition. Don't tell me you don't feel just as certain as I do that you're being cornered; that someone wants to play us all for fools."
He shouldn't be intimidated, not this time; even if Aoi truly believed herself capable of turning the Imawano heir into an uncertain, lumbering idiot, babbling and scared, she wouldn't be trying it now. The posturing she still mounts is only there because it can't not be. She's shown a small handful of people the true her lately, and this is it-- warts and all, conviction and hypocrisy, boldness and even the faintly lingering uncertainty that her path may require adjustment. Even the fact that sometimes, she wakes up at night wanting to cry; because nobody is as strong as she pretends to be. It can't ever be so. The race of man is a whimpering one on individual terms, only ever as powerful as those it calls ally.
Which isn't to preclude the strength of one. It's a valuable, potent tool. It's just based on a lie, always.
Fortunately, in the now, Hyo does not string a deception. He's not making nice in the least. His admission of the reasoning for his distruct elicits a hard, genuinely amused snort from the self-appointed guardian of Seijyun, the sound at once as bluntly lacking in propriety as every ounce of her persona... and yet so disarming because it comes from her heart, the natural laughter of a peer rather than the enemy's masquerade. She did say that, and he has the right of it. And he even has the stones to admit it would be mutual.
"Everything you've shown me to this point, Imawano, has proven you're out for your own gain. Don't get me wrong, I'm not so naive to believe what happened in Southtown didn't have some 'higher purpose'... but I'd never go about anything that way. People can be stepping stones, sometimes they need to be used - even if it lessens the user - but they deserve to keep their own minds, however misguided or fucking stupid they might be. That's why I'd see no harm in removing you, if I could; if I had the resolve." Is that an admission that she doesn't? Her eyes blazing with that cold fire, it's hard to tell. It sounds almost mocking, besides.
"Maybe you understand what you did, now, maybe you've repented. But I don't have the reputation I do because I forgive easily. I've never forgiven anyone in my entire goddamn life. Including /myself/, Imawano. If that makes me the bad girl, so be it. Judge me. But don't ever believe for one second I'd tell a lie. If I throw my hands up alongside yours, then I'll stand by that for good or ill. And if I betray that trust, well..."
Beneath the mask, she smiles, an oddly warm gesture that regrettably evades her vulpine glare.
"Rest assured, it would be mutual."
From this confrontational mini-game she needs to move, and she knows it likely only a little less than Hyo does. She lowers her gaze again, letting the detail of his scheme wash over her. Her own intentions have been shifting during the past twenty four hours, and in the moments before Bogard arrived she was mulling something almost similar herself-- almost, but for the very deceptive nature it suggests. In battle she may connive and control, waging a psychological war as much as she lashes out with boot and chain, but on wider terms Aoi has generally been very straightforward. She attacks what she doesn't like, and keeps attacking it. Her principles feel safe that way; in failure she keeps the moral high ground, and in success... well, what more is needed?
This is risky. It's cunning, and it could pay off hugely. For all her hatred, she can't help but respect that.
"Someone wants to play us, yes," she responds with a musing air, glancing toward the broken window recently used to exeunt the departing Human Weapon. "I've wondered how deep it could go, but I believe I've chosen my allies well... so far. There's a time for caution and a time to simply take up the fight, though. I told you already that I know I've waited too long; I overplayed my hand, Imawano, that's fair to say. I accept it." She glances back to him, and this time the smile - the grin, indeed - does catch the light of her eyes. "But with a fresh draw, I can outplay this bastard and whoever stands behind him. You do your part, I'll do mine. I assume we hardly need to swap phone numbers?" Another mirthful snort at that, and she pushes off the wall, taking one step and then another toward the Justice ninja, watching him through every stride until she stands close.
Close enough to strike or cut. But she merely extends a gloved hand; firm, steady, curled to a warrior's grip.
"I'll organize my girls, and I'll tell them to take your men's orders. Don't fuck it up, Imawano."
Her eyes narrow, practically dancing with black laughter now as she echoes earlier, overheard words.
"I won't if you won't."
"Order by means of subjugation is a weak man's lie." Hyo offers up, simply. His stance is actually the inverse of Zaki's; each of them is a fortress, an army, a tidal wave. The means by which a world is shaped and expanded year after year, century after century. It is the lack of discipline, of insight into one's disparate species and their myriad of motivations, strengths, and weaknesses that lends itself to endless fighting and foolishness. "A shortcut disguising chaos through force of will, a facade that never lasts. The conditioning jutsus of Imawano-ryu are not sufficient to replace.. communal wisdom." It takes him a moment to find the words, or perhaps re-admit it to himself. Hyo does not reject the brainwashing techniques out of hand, however; even if he has scarcely touched them in years, save to keep them sharp and fresh as ever.
Whether it is the lesson Zaki wishes for the silver-haired shinobi to learn seems to worry him not; as the leader of girls settles on how she feels about their antagonistic past, the ninja seems glad enough not to dwell. After all, they do have a great deal else to do. Hyo simply offers Zaki a nod, and accepts the offered hand firmly. Close enough to split her in two, but contrary to what the television tells him, Hyo knew what Zaki came here to do before she started doing it. No doubt dragging her in would be lauded as heroism, at least for a time; he can't really blame her for being frustrated with mankind, though as mentioned, Hyo's perspective is inverted.
It's in large groups that people get stupid, helpless, backwards; to cultivate and perfect one's mind, body, and spirit requires objective distance from that mob rule. From how sweeping it all becomes, for all the wrong reasons. Don't fuck it up? How crass. Zaki's condition warrants no response from the shinobi, releasing her hand after a moment and turning back towards the window that Bogard had utilized not long before, the breeze ruffling the edges of the black cloth that conceals him.
"Be on the roof tonight, 0100. We have to move on this now." It's only a few hours to familiarize her people with their plan to mobilize and bolster their defensive lines, as well as meet with whoever Imawano may be sending. The shinobi doesn't pause to hear her reply, however, simply expectant as he leaps into a graceful freefall, twisting and firing a grapnel line upwards as he descends. Dropping into a sharply arcing, accelerating descent, Hyo /launches/ himself into the city skyline, vanishing as the sun drifts ever lower on the horizon...
Log created on 12:52:14 06/23/2012 by Zaki, and last modified on 23:12:21 06/24/2012.