Description: In this rare peek at one Howard Rust's current living arrangements, taking advantage of a certain man's kindness (and a certain section of Southtown with very low property values) in an apartment home originally meant for three. One... is no longer around. The other makes an unexpected reappearance after a few months' worth of absence. How's life? It's discussed over drinks.
Gedo Street. That quiet little part of the heart of Southtown near the roughest (if not the educationally strenuous, definitely roughest) high school in all of Japan. Everyone knows Gedo's reputation. Tough, scary kids. The sort of place you want to take the long way around from, even if Downtown Southtown is not exactly what one would consider the safest place to take a stroll.
The people who live around here, they say, don't live here by choice. Property values are an all-time low - probably among the very cheapest housing you can find in Southtown. The colorful graffiti marks this place as a place of gang activity to the casual observer. It's not even all that run down in so far as urban sprawl goes, even as tough guy delinquents all squat down around a nearby convenience store talking in slang attributed to legitimately dangerous organizations.
Some children in a nearby parking lot - no doubt younger siblings of those supposed Gedo ruffians - make good with what space they have available in a completely vacant lot's parking lot to play a game of baseball at a time of evening most kids should probably be back inside their homes. Opposite of a chain-link fence from where they play, a relatively run-down truck covered in dirt, grime, and bits of crabgrass comes to a stop. Its owner, a certain middle-aged man with that dark purple... thing on his head, steps on out as one kid hits a ball with surprising force to send it hurtling low and fast with just enough clearance to go over the fence.
Without looking, Howard throws his left hand up to catch the ball just as it comes within a split second of bouncing off his head.
"Batting's getting better," he remarks as one of the young outfielders stands in front of the chain-link fence, casually tossing it back over to their side with a muffled thanks from said child as he approaches the apartment building with a brown paper bag held under his right arm, digging around his pockets with his left hand for the key... yeah, here it is.
"Mr. Rust," greets an older woman, "how was your day?"
"Don't... don't really wanna talk about it," he mumbles out, stretching out one of his knees to get out a kink, "yours?"
"My good for nothing son's finally getting married! How old is he, thirty four? He should have settled down years ago!"
Howard grumbles as he heads to the steps. "Well... good for him, I guess, I mean..."
"That's right, you're not married either, are you? Is it different for men over in America?"
"Some things, they just... they just, just... just don't pan... out," he tiredly dismisses the thought as he goes up the steps, "tell your son that, that I said congra... uh, congratulations," he clears his throat as he heads along to the second floor.
Room 217. One stubborn fight with key and lock later, he's inside to what should be by all accounts a really decent apartment. Fairly spacious, three(!) spare rooms, a kitchen, one bathroom... not a terribly big living room. A run-down, sort of smelly couch faces a wide-screen TV, an older wooden table is home to a few as-of-yet unremoved open bottles and, curiously, one unopened bottle of mouthwash facing a chair that is covered in dust.
Placing the paper bag on the table, Rust exhales loudly as he takes off his gi top and stretches out his back and shoulders to the expected cacophony of joint pops. "Well," he narrates to himself, "today feels like, ah, l-like a... four beer night."
The apartment could have been anywhere. The money given to purchase one was pretty high given the situation at the time. The only request from the man providing the money was a single room left empty. One that remained so for several months before one day it randomly had a bedroll in it and nothing else. Amazing how Sagat can be such a large individual but travel through a place without anyone noticing. The idea was for two people to have a place to settle in and not worry about bills and being evicted. It turned into a single man getting a rather large place to himself.
The sightings of Sagat for Rust have been rare and several months in between. Many words are not exchanged and when it comes to Quon he rarely had much to say about it. While he acts that it wasn't affecting him his actions often spoke otherwise. He rarely did talk about what he was doing and usually just mentioned he was off training somewhere. The bonus is at least Rust isn't being included in said training. Given the shape he is in at his age it cannot be the easiest of regimes.
When Rust does return for the evening he finds the place unlocked. A rare occurance that might make him think someone broke in until he opens the door to find a light on in the usually unoccupied room that Sagat stays in the rare times he is in town. In fact that room is right where he is with his single eye closed and him sitting on the mat he uses for a bed with legs crossed and looking to possibly be in meditation. The rather fiery big man has done his best to become more calm in recent times, but it isn't the easiest of tasks. It is hard to teach an old dog new tricks afterall.
The door already being unlocked probably contributes a lot more to the difficulty of getting it open than it actually being locked. The eternal assumption of it being locked, twisting and turning the doorknob with the key until he figures out it /is/ open to begin with, well, that contributes to the thought of it being a four beer night indeed.
As is the thought that he may or may not have been robbed. As is the crabgrass. Lots of contributing factors to the declaration of how many beers this evening would be worth, really, as he heads down the hallway to his room to be sure and catches the sight of someone inside that often unoccupied room.
The door inexplicably scratches against its track obnoxiously loudly as Rust slides it open gently. That large visage. The sight of someone he hasn't seen in months, in that meditative position. He has no doubt learned long ago that it's not quite the best of ideas to disturb FREAKING SAGAT when he's meditating.
"Oh, Sagat, uh... sorry, gonna just... close," he mumbles as he tries to gently close the door. There's the same odd tense screeching from the door.
Five beer night.
There isn't anything said when the apology is made. The single eye of the large fighter opens and he glances towards Rust. As intimidating as the man can be he has always treated Rust with respect and in a kind demeanor that somehow just seems wrong coming from someone like Sagat. "I am sorry. I was passing through and thought I would spend the night." Does he really have to be the one apologizing? Even if he is rarely in the apartment he is technically one of the residents afterall.
Treetrunk sized legs untangle and Sagat slowly rises to his feet. "Do you like plum sake? I was given a fine bottle of it in payment for some work." As if he really needs to do any sort of work with the money he probably has. He is rather quiet about just how much he has when it comes to funds, but being he is paying for the apartment and its bills without asking anything from Rust must mean he is doing well enough still. It seems he does the manual labor these days to keep in shape if anything.
It also seems like no might not be a answer Rust can give since Sagat is already moving to produce the bottle as well as two glasses. "Are you well?" He has little else to ask. Sagat never has been and will never be a personable type even if he is trying to walk a more amiable path these days. "I don't keep in touch as much as I should I believe."
"N-No, no no, don't... don't feel sorry, just, uh... been a while," Rust stammers a bit out of the sheer awkwardness of the surprise itself to see Sagat again after so long as he pushes the door back open (still strangely noisy). Kindness and care from Sagat or not, Howard has seen Sagat angry, he has seen Sagat stand against (to Rust) unfathomable odds. Sagat is, in many ways, one of the single most terrifying men in the world with a checkered history painted in anger and blood. Rust himself might be one of the few men with the honor of seeing how a tapestry decorated in such is being lettered in redemption.
And as, in what would be one of the most unbelievable twists one's life might take a turn for, occasional roommate. It's the sort of thing you'd see on television sitcoms, unlikely (and kind of dumpy) world hero and former terrorist turned virtuous man living under the same roof.
"Plum sake? Ah... well, I was, ah, I was gonna drink tonight anyway," and that's no lie, his voice is tinged with the tiredness of a man who - despite everything - still seems to struggle to make ends meet as he exhales loudly while Sagat brings out the goods and the glasses as he palms the side of the entry to Sagat's occasional living space.
"'s been... well, rough. Trouble getting good fighting gigs," Sagat might have seen or heard of the infamous 3 AM live bout in Metro City against Carlos in which Rust ultimately lost, "Kyokugen lawn's just, just gone straight to hell," he uselessly gesticulates, "to the point that, uh, that we got some people from the Diet really bearing down... to, to say nothing 'bout the usual, well, usual student dropout rates. Hell. Three students just, just quit today alone." His elbow leans up against the doorway, hand against his head where his gloved fingers dig against that... well, horrible parody of hair on his head.
The older man looks downwards towards the floor. "'m not havin' a, a great time gettin' things... well, going."
The two glasses are filled with the cool liquid of the bottle he produced. One is pushed towards Rust while he manages to sit down in a seat at the table without the chair giving too much protest to the sheer weight of the large fighter. He listens intently to the troubles Rust has gone through and just nods. He hardly seems bored or disinterested in such matters. He actually looks genuinely interested in what the man has to say.
He remains silent until it seems Rust is finished before finally finishes talking. "I see. I suppose it isn't anything I can really help with." Sagat is far from being a practitioner of Kyokugen karate and his presence would probably just scare even more students away. He does have fame and a reputation, but it is hardly the type that would be good to drawing in new students for any sort of martial art. "Were you in need of more money?"
He doesn't often offer much beyond what he already provides. He understands the pride of men and even someone like Rust probably doesn't enjoy asking for money he doesn't earn himself. Even so Sagat doesn't seem to want there to be monetary issues that might impede his room mate. "Or if there is something I can do.....though I don't know much about lawns."
The number of students that stick with it (for a while) tend to be pretty brave - but pretty much no one, bar perhaps Takuma Sakazaki himself, could stand as an equal to a man who is already stands far physically taller than most men just from stature alone. In terms of ability...
Well, that's already been covered.
"More money? Ah, no, no," yes, "no," Rut shakes his head, "you've... you've really done a lot for me, and..." he doesn't finish the name, knowing full well how touchy that subject is, "it's... it's, it's just a, a bad time for pro fighting right now, one of those," he snaps his fingers, what's the word, "recessions," he finishes as he heads over to the chair to have himself a drink of that plum sake once poured. It probably was a bad idea for Ken to offer so much money in NDP fights to the point he had to scale back payouts so severely in matches sanctioned and promoted by his corporation - may as well have had a domino effect on the rest of the fighting world.
"I mean... yeah, it's hard enough for, for everyone," he says as he takes his seat, "but... well, least I'm better off than, than Adon." He winces at the mention personally. "He landscapes now, and... and, he... he didn't do a, a good job of it. Fifty bucks to get rid of all that... that crabgrass, next thing I know, whole lawn just... just crawls with it."
If only he put two and two together, but, it is hard for him to want to imagine that someone with so few work opportunities left to them would actually pull something like that.
A large hand lifts the much smaller glass of sake to the lips of Sagat. A recession in fighting is nothing he really had to deal with in his prime. Even in his time where he no lost his title of Emporer of Muay Thai he still had decent enough money. The years with Vega also saw him paid very well. As meager as he lives he has the funds if need be. To keep the bills paid on a place like this are not too problematic at all. He is also very quiet when it comes to just how much money he truely has at the moment.
The almost mention of Quon doesn't seem to make him flinch or even react at all. It is a touchy subject that Sagat does well at hiding his real emotions, though perhaps out of anyone Rust can tell that even after all this time he still doesn't seem over how things unfolded. Another attempt at redemption by finding a new student taking a dark path that he did not expect. It is perhaps best that Rust mentions Adon because it allows Sagat to distract himself from thoughts of Quon and the like.
He actually gets a bit of a wry grin. "A landscaper?" he asks and actually seems a bit amused. "I have not seen him for some time. He did mention walking a new path. I did not expect that to be the path he walked." he admits and then hmms lightly and drums his fingers on the table. "He hasn't caused you any trouble overall, yes?"
"Y-Yeah," Rust coughs once before nearly getting the glass to his lips. It's kind of a wonder he doesn't spill any of it as he pats his chest with his free hand, "'scuse me. Well, he's... y'know, screeching. Always talking down, that, that sort of thing, I mean, still him. That's Adon." It may well be that the recent years has just made Howard increasingly accustomed to loud, extremely boisterous and derisive commentary. That, or being surrounded by so many explosions and gunfire from two land wars might have done nasty things to his hearing at this point. Either is likely.
"Can't say that, that I'm happy with his, uh, his work, but... don't think I'd call that... trouble." He will once he learns the truth, as he finally has himself some of that plum sake. This probably won't stop him from hammering down a couple beers later as he sets the glass down.
"'m getting more trouble from, from that rival dojo Daniel's from than, than anything." Why does he forget the name all of a sudden? It's a name that gets screamed like a curse word a lot around the grounds, especially when Takuma's around.
Daniel isn't a name that Sagat is familiar with, but the mention of a rival dojo to Kyokugen? That is something Sagat knows somewhat. In fact he had a personal meeting with the head of said dojo inadvertantly when he was still working for Shadaloo. "The Todoh family." he simply responds to and shakes his head. He isn't too familiar with the group, but the man known as Ryuhaku makes him have to question just how sane any of the followers of that style really are. "They seem....interesting." That is probably the nicest thing he can say about them.
He sips his own glass before setting it down and moving to refill both. He lets his mind wander back to Adon and he does get an amused smirk once more and he lets out a bit of a chuckle. "It sounds as if he really is trying to better himself at least. He has a long path to travel. Perhaps not as long as my own, but still it will not be easy. I believe he can find redemption as well." he chuckles again and takes a slow sip from his glass again.
"Rust, be honest. You will be fine?" He asks and that single eye narrows some. He is not angry by far, but he certainly seems to be aiming to hear the truth. Not like Rust is a good liar anyways. Sagat can tell there is some problems, but he rather hear it directly from the mouth of Rust instead of drawing his own conclusions or finding things out through other means.
"Yeah! Those guys." How could he forget their name? Their sudden upswing in prosperity following Daniel's (and Benkei's) successful forays into the Neo Development Project back when the payouts were off the charts, how plenty of it went back into their school and now it's... well, it's doing a whole lot better than Kyokugen is.
There's the thought that Adon might find redemption, eliciting a silent, slow nod from Rust. He's not sure landscaping is what he's really good for given how all that turned out, but maybe finding just some honest work to do would be good for him in the long run. That's how he felt when he slipped him fifty US dollars, as completely unhappy with the results as he is.
It's a comforting thought that hits an abrupt stop when Sagat narrows that one eye and asks that question. It's telling alone when he takes a second to even speak up, head jerking upwards slightly as his posture slumps in his seat. This alone probably says a lot.
"I... I hope so." He tries to let those words hang as he has himself another glass. As in, the whole contents of it. It's not quite the best way to leave an impression of quiet optimism or strength.
"Look, it's... it's, I don't regret where things went, it's... I can, I can fight full time now, train, every, every day," always a life long dream he got to fulfill, "'m holding my own when, when it counts," the two wars that threatened to engulf the entire planet instigated by Vega, among other incidents... he waves a pointing finger from the glass he holds.
He gently sets the glass down. "Look, I, I know better than, than to think it's all gonna be all... happily ever after, after all that, but... it's, it's not just money, Sagat, it feels like... it feels like I just can't... get anything going. I lost a, a friend to a shooting lately, too," a seeming one-off incident of gang violence that may or may not be related to something bigger. The younger man of the two shakes his head slowly, "it's all just... frustrating, I, I don't think there's a better word for it."
The elder fighter listens intently and even goes to refill the glass after Rust quickly finishes off the contents. The beers might follow, but it looks like a good dent in the booze that Sagat had brought will be made as well. "Frustration is a part of life. I think you know that as well as I." he admits after a few moments once it seems like Rust is done speaking. He lets out a slight grunt as he sits up and takes another sip from his own drink.
He puts the glass back down and starts to refill it once again and he looks a bit on the thoughtful side. "We don't live a glamorous life. Money doesn't make for it obviously." If that was the case Sagat would probably be sitting pretty given the money he has made over the years. Even now he lives more like a vagrant and pauper, preferring to live life on the road and in the wilderness instead of in a cozy apartment like the one he is in now.
He leans back in his seat again and he reaches up to lightly rub at the top of his head. He hasn't shaved in a few days so it has a light dusting of red and gray hair that has started to grow in. Nothing like the purple 'thing' on Rust's head. "I would give advice if I could, but we are too different, Rust. I think that is why I find comfort talking to and being around you. I feel....at peace." he admits and his lips twist into a bit of a grin.
Do they ever know!
Rust looks almost ready to protest the glamorous life. Ken Masters sure makes it look easy (but then again, he is considered one of the very, very best there is today)! It seems almost every other established fighter he runs into, on the surface, seems to be somehow doing better than he is - well, that often seems the case. The reality is nowadays it is very difficult for many fighters to make a consistent buck doing just fighting.
This might be where the limitations of his work visa could be doing him in, all things considered, as he is not a naturalized citizen.
His eyes wander upwards as Sagat rubs at the beginnings of that hair again. Of all the sights and things to see and have burned into one's psyche through those wars, it is strange to take the mental picture of Sagat showing he could still grow hair considering his own, uh, well-displayed and not at all hidden personal anxieties about his own hair as Sagat mentions feeling at peace with them despite their differences.
"I... well, uh, you're... you're welcome, I, I guess," he clears his throat again. God damn pollen. So much pollen. There isn't a matching smile. "I, I dunno, it's... it's you've done a, a lot for me. It's... sometimes, you know, it's sometimes, I'd wish I could, uh, well, do more for you back."
He doesn't recall the last time Sagat's really specifically needed his old work talents, slightly diminished as they are due to the injury to his right hand. You never appreciate the days you could easily put your fingernails to the tip of a screw and get it out in record time without any damage to the mechanisms it's buried in until you lose the ability to do that.
Still pretty easy to hold a glass and drink up another whole glass of that plum sake, though.
There is a faint shake of the head from the large fighter. "Your company often is enough payment. If we met when you were younger I would almost consider making you a student." Saying that does make him frown a bit. His track record with students hasn't exactly been stellar. When he finally thought he found someone that he could properly mold due to their young age and his own new outlook on life things went south. There is a moment where he looks to regret his choice of words, but it is fleeting and almost easy to miss if one is not used to dealing with Sagat.
"We are kindred spirits. Men that should perhaps not follow the path we choose, but we are too stubborn to realize that. I spent too many years being a man that only cared about himself and being the best fighter in the world. I just want to spent my future enjoying myself and fight for my own reasons. It seems that is the same reason why you still fight despite the pain you are in." He would be a fool not to notice the way limbs don't want to move correctly for Rust. The way each joint seems to pop even with the slightest movement. "I hope you don't consider my help sympathy. It is weird to say it, but consider it a friend helping out a friend."
The Howard Rust of his young adulthood probably would have made an all right pupil - probably not with the ideal physical build for Muay Thai, but given how far along he's come since he really put his nose to the grindstone to pick up where he left off when he had a dream, he clearly did have some sort of potential.
Imagine it now. Puma Kick? Puma Smash? Puma... Combov-- no, let's stop there.
Rust's mind isn't on the could've-beens. Sagat's drive to be the best fighter in the world... in many ways, Rust himself is still trying to push himself on that path, to reach out to that dream he thought was out of reach, pulled further away, and yet still tantalizingly remains in view.
Even if he seem to have occasionally stacked an unstable tower of platforms to try and climb up to reach out to it again.
A friend helping a friend out, in the end, Sagat reasons it all as Rust mulls over Sagat's own thoughts on the matter. "Well, I, I definitely appreciate the help," loathe as he is to try and ask for more of it depending on how the next two months financially pan out - maybe he can get another gig or two, if things start picking up...!
The aging man sinks in his seat a little lower. "It's just... something's, something's gotta give, at some point, right?" His left elbow immediately disagrees as it locks up. He won't notice this until he thinks to try and maybe lift up his posture a bit a minute or two later. "Something's gotta get better, I mean, got to show for... for everything. I know, I know, I, I don't look it, but I'm a brown belt in Kyokugen, 'm almost out of the, the initiate ranks." Some think he's already better than /Marco/, one of the instructors, even if his grasp of the fundamentals of Kyokugen are not yet as solid as Marco's.
"It's... well, never was easy," the Kyokugen regimen is absolutely harsh and there is a reason they have serious trouble keeping any of their students, "but man, there's... there's gotta be a break somewhere, I mean... not just for me, but, but you too, well... for a lot of, a lot of people," he slowly stretches his right arm out, broadly sweeping his arm across the table to nothing in particular. "Just... sure taking its sweet time with me."
The large fighter looks thoughtful as he mulls things over. Just when does something give out and get better for people. Is it something special for each person and they only reach it after a certain amount of time? "For me? I don't think it can give much more for me." he admits and looks a bit amused once more as a grin creeps across his face. "Rust, I fell from grace and worked for perhaps the most evil force that has walked this earth. I still live and have managed to break free and remember the teachings I for so long ignored when I was at my best. I would be asking too much if I asked for more."
That glass of his is emptied and he moves to slide the bottle towards Rust before Sagat stands up. He towers over the other old man and he never loses that grin as he regards his friend. "It takes many years for some of us. I don't know when you will feel content. It could be two months. It could be two decades. Goals change and desires do as well. You feel uncertain and in a rut perhaps now, but events may occur that views will change and you will find that something has given." A large hand reaches out and pats Rust lightly on the shoulder and Sagat nods lightly once more.
"I am going to be in Southtown for a few days. I know you have training with the Sakazaki clan, but if you want.....well I can give you another form of training if you wish." His hand pulls away and he starts to stalk towards the door to the mostly empty room he claims as his own. "I think I had a bit much to drink and need some rest. Don't worry about keeping me up. I can sleep through almost anything." he says and lets out a light chuckle before ducking into the room. Soon Rust is left to himself and a still half full bottle of sake to go along with his thoughts.
When Sagat puts it that way, it's kind of a wonder that Interpol doesn't come knocking at his door asking about Sagat's whereabouts - the most he seems to get these days is policemen asking if they have seen Takuma after his latest misadventure in Cosco. Well, that and various representatives of the Japanese Diet being really unpleased with the crabgrass, feeling it a threat to the local environment of Southtown - but no particularly inquisitive Interpol officers.
Maybe they're too afraid to approach after everyone saw first hand the effect of powerful fighters against even numbers of competent soldiers after a handful of Asian land wars? The sight of Sagat uppercutting that giant truck - and how he endured and fought through so many at once - is probably enough to give almost anyone second thoughts.
Silently acknowledging the grinning man as he takes the bottle in his right hand, he silently pours himself another glass as Sagat pats his shoulder that would elicit a start were it not for the aforementioned elbow locking up and, perhaps, the effects of alcohol creeping up on him.
"Maybe, uh, when we're... not drunk," a not terribly committed suggestion as to when he might be up for a bit of training, "good night." His eyes wander away as Sagat goes to have himself a rest with the insistence that he can sleep through almost anything.
His eyes fall upon the empty chair with the mouthwash facing it. Standing up from his chair and rolling one of his shoulders, he goes to get a small glass to put down next to the mouthwash and pour. He gives the smaller a glass a toast with his own, and drinks down... what, cup number four? Five? Is he still feeling like having a couple beers after that?
That one glass near the mouthwash is left alone.
Log created on 19:06:08 05/17/2013 by Rust, and last modified on 07:41:42 05/18/2013.