Description: Alma and Mimiru arrive in Japan, their bittersweet reunion at an end as the YFCC's private plane from Metro City touches down. Having found their own ways of facing their fates, they prepare to part ways, hanging on to the meaning they've made for themselves, hoping for a brighter future. But fickle fate ever interferes. The world they've resigned themselves to is no longer what it was. There, by cousin Jira's side, walks one who shall upend their lives: The Boy Who Defies Time.
The Narita airport remains a safe distance away from the area of Japan afflicted by Mt. Fuji's eruption, and officials are doing their utmost to ensure that the evacuation efforts do not devolve into panic here. Although the halls are crowded, displaced people massing with travelers and commuters and those fleeing Japan for safer climes, supplies and assistance still arrive here and are transported in an orderly fashion. For all that the nation has been thrown into chaos, its people do their utmost to maintain a sense of normalcy, even if it comes to seem farcical as the ash storm spreads.
Alma emerges from the gate at which the YFCC plane has landed, his instantly recognizable features looking refreshed and renewed in a way that few of his volunteers and assistants have seen before. One member of his retinue, a bespectacled woman with a clipboard, gives him a look that's difficult to identify. "Was it nice to be reunited with your friend, Mr. Towazu?"
The Scarred Angel glances her way, and his smile is broad and honest, even as the warmth of his eyes seems a little more mirthful than usual.
"Things have changed," he replies, "but for the better, I think."
His hopefulness shines bright as they step into the main hall of the terminal, standing out in a space filled by the uncertain and dispossessed.
The last person to come out of the gate is Mimiru -- both hands into the frontal pocket of her coat, her shoulder bag well in place with that bright pink star on it. It had been a long time since she came to Japan, and she changed a lot since then... Pink and short hair, much taller now... She even has the goggles over her head even though they were in a plane. Part of her new style.
She waits behind Alma, until he's done talking with his assistant. She has a gentle smile on her lip. It had been good to talk with Alma... But much like the rest of the friends she's made the past seven years, it's already time for them both to part ways. She doesn't seem sad about it, there's that glitter in her eyes, that gentle sparkles, as if both of them already knew this path wasn't going to take them any farther than here.
She bites on her lower lip, then lowers her gaze idly, "Well... I guess this is good bye..." Mimiru says in a soft voice, "I enjoyed seeing you again, Alma... Maybe our path will meet again. Please, if you see Yoko, tell her I love her and I'm sorry..." She lifts her gaze up at him, her eyes glowing a bit with tears at the thought.
She lifts her right hand up to wipe them away, "Sorry, I'm generally better at good byes..." It wasn't saying good bye the problem, more the thought of her mother that seemed to cause her such saddness, or anything related to her past life, it would seem.
One last time, Mimiru takes a step foward and she leans over, closing her eyes a moment to steal a peck. Maybe it's just for the show, as it has been before in America, or maybe it's something else, it's hard to say... Her hand goes up to briefly graze his cheek before she pulls her head away. Her lips curl into a smile, and her hand goes down to pat Alma's breast, "Good bye, Alma." She simply says, before she turns on her heels and walks away.
Step. Step.
The airport has normally been filled with people coming in and out, but it is somewhat tense with the impending storm brewing from the incident at Mt. Fuji. While it is true that the people have attempted to maintain some sort of normalcy within the airport, outside the walls of the facility breeds chaos and trouble that has started brewing.
One person to make his way of departing from the madness is none other than a young seventeen-year-old blond male. Dressed for the journey, Jiro is passing through the entrance and he takes note of the presence.
"Huh. You would have thought that the place would have been deserted." There is a slight smile that has formed, "At least people are trying to continue on despite that." Unlike the city itself. It has gotten bad and Jiro is a bit fearful of how worse it could become.
For the most part, Jiro would appear the same as he did those many years ago for those who would find him familiar.
Looking back briefly, Jiro notes, "We got our tickets. We should make our flight on time. I want to know more about this godforsaken tournament."
In the midst of the travel, Jiro stumbles across over a vaguely familiar face through the crowd of people. It's a man talking to a lady. A bronze-skined man with that eerie familiarity. However, much has changed.A professional looking short-cut, a burn scar over his face... and he looks older.
"...Eh?"
And a girl who kisses him. The girl is a bit unfamiliar.
However, the older man is enough to warrant his attention to run over towards him, "HEY!" Jiro shouts, rushing over towards the older man as quickly as he can. He'll bowl over anyone in his way.
Airport crowds, or rather, crowds of any kind keep the young woman weary. Despite walking near Jiro, her eyes are searching for someone in particular. She only half hears him over the incessant crowding and chitter, and at the mention of tickets she's already flagging down a curious man in white. Cabby cap, and a fully concealing white suit and slacks, even down to loafers and holding a notably pink backpack, packed to the brim with living supplies, enough to make a nice shelter with.
Said man walks dutifuly to Jira, and tails as she motions him to follow behind her- now chasing after Jiro and his path of wanton people bowling with a sigh. "Jiro-kun, who is it?" she shouts after him, with her skirt fluttering in her wake carelessly. And that cabby chasing her nonchalantly.
Alma meets Mimiru's gaze, stopping as well, his entourage fanning out somewhat awkwardly in an attempt to give him privacy despite the public location of their farewell, some of the volunteers still peeking in curiosity after the previous display of affection in Metro City.
He knew they were going to part here, but somehow, he can't be sad.
"Me too," he says quietly in response to her first words. "Yoko will be glad to hear you're well."
Seeing her wipe the traces of tears away, Alma feels only a swelling of absolute conviction in his chest. He hasn't felt such intensity of belief outside of battle in a long time. The tranquil devotion of the past few years gives way to an undeniable passion which burns within him still.
"We'll meet again."
There may be too much each of them has to do now. They have their own paths to walk, and more growing to do on their own. But Alma believes now, more than ever before, and that belief manifests as unshakable faith in his eyes.
"I know it."
He doesn't know. He doesn't need to know. But he will declare that he knows. Because he will create the reality required to make his knowledge true. And he will wait for her there, in that future place.
"Mimiru, I--"
Her kiss, light as a feather, cuts him off, and he is silenced. Whatever more he might have wanted to say, now is not the time. The presence of his assistants, many now looking at him askance, remind him that he has work to do. Just as he couldn't sacrifice that to spend time with Mimiru in Metro, so she can't give up her life as it is now. So for now, he is silent, and watches her go, accepting his life as it is for now.
That's how it was supposed to happen.
"What?"
The world slows to a crawl.
That voice. That aura. That build.
That face.
"Ji..."
The color drains from Alma's scarred features. His body begins to tremble, his cohort beginning to look at one another in total confusion, having never seen their fearless leader like this before. His lips part and stay there, his eyes quivering, unable to focus on what's before him.
"Ji..."
It must be a lie.
"Ji... ro...?"
But if it isn't--
"How...?"
Everything has changed.
Once those things are said, Mimiru walks away -- she doesn't look back, it's been her motto those past years, and she probably never will. No regrets, it was just her way of living now, and just as she said to Alma, she never stays in place for too long.
Her hands reach out for the hood of her jacket and she puts it back up over her head. She's leaving the gate, going the opposite direction from where the shouting is coming. She doesn't make a big case of it, it must be someone calling out another person, after all, or Alma.
It comes to a huge surprise for the wayward Stray Dog when the older man, now scarred, is able to recognize him. Truth be told, Jiro was hoping the man was not Alma. He was hoping that it was some older man that looked like him. It would re-affirm that he is still within his own time, but people are being crazy.
This dashes his senses.
The expression falters from the younger man, who looks over towards Alma. The form of the young man twitches and his frown grows. He is uncertain as to what to say. He doesn't even know how to even approach the matter.
As he stares over the man, Jiro's eyes lock at the older, scarred man before him.
"...You've grown so old."
Jiro wanders closer towards Alma now. He lifts his hand up to touch his older friend's cheek. His eyes squint, looking more at ill-ease at the current situation.
"...I guess Daniel was right when he said my presence was an omen."
Jira stops at some point behind Jiro, giving a polite wave to Alma and turning to accept her bag from the cabby. And a small burger and bag of chips before waving him off, then spinning back to her cousin and Alma meeting.... again. A gnomming bite of burger while her pack is slung onto her back with a snug fit. She daren't talk with a full mouth, and quietly wonders to herself why her appointed escorts always took up that weird outfit while out on her business errands. It takes up a significant bit of her concentration to stay on that question while she eats and deals with the other one sharing her thoughtspace.
It is him.
Alma looks deep into Jiro's eyes, and the reality is unmistakable. However it happened, the Jiro he knew from his younger days is here before him, alive and intact. The psychic has endured much shock and trauma over his life, and even in the face of this revelation, he finds himself automatically evening out his breathing, his resilient mind processing this new information, feeling out the aura before him: that of Jiro before he mastered his fury, familiar but long forgotten.
It's may be the first time Alma, sworn to value this life and this world, has ever truly wanted to deny the truth before him.
"No," he says, in a ghost of a voice. "It's too unfair."
From his hazel eyes fall one tear, then two.
"We've all tried so hard to move on." The volunteers back away, whispering to each other in disbelief, some of them simply dumbstruck. "Everything I've done was in your memory. Everything I've become was for you."
Alma remains unmoving as Jiro's hand raises to touch his cheek, his gaze unblinking, even as he silently sheds tears.
"What am I supposed to do now?" he continues, voice cracking for the first time, only the trappings of his characteristic commposure remaining, the thinnest shell of dignity. "What does all this mean now that you're here?"
Slowly, still trembling, his own hand rises unbidden, touching Jiro's cheek.
"Ji... ro..."
It's warm.
"Jiro!"
Shouting, choking with emotion, Alma embraces his younger friend, pulling him close as he begins to sob without shame, the grown man like a child before the boy he once knew. Jira's wave goes unnoticed, the psychic blind even to her presence right now, focused entirely on the one before him. But after several seoncds he suddenly pulls back, eyes widening to reveal his racing thoughts. "Jiro... Mimiru... your sister... she..." He can't get the words out. He has to do or say something now, before it's too late.
Or should he?
Mimiru is walking away -- heading off to get her luggages. She's walking steadily away in the crowd. It's a long way through the customs.. And getting her cases back.
There is so much that speaks of a story about Alma. Jiro had focused on examining Alma, a relic of the future. Jiro, the Boy Who Has Defied Time, is here before Alma. While Jiro himself is unchanged, the young teenager can definitely tell that Alma has changed.
"...You've grown old. Your hair is short. ... You have a scar." In a way, Jiro is in awe to see what time has done to Alma. "...It's surreal." It is hard to explain why it feels so. Jiro feels distant from the world around him. It further sinks in the fact that he does not belong. It is a feeling that Jiro has tried to push out of his mind.
Then, those tears...
Jiro grits his teeth, "No tearing up!" He furrows his eyebrows. The Stray Dog does not want to do the same that Alma is doing before him. "...My memory..."
~ "And memories from the past, walking right here in Chinatown." ~
Those words from Daniel ring back into his mind. He grits his teeth. However, the young man finally tenses when Alma wraps his arms around him and shouts his name with the emotion behind the embrace. What does it mean if he is here now?
"...'An omen', if Daniel's words are led to be believed."
However, when Alma mentions about Mimiru, Jiro furrows his eyebrows, "...Eh?"
Then, the young man sees that girl once more as she is heading towards the customs.
..Wait a second.
No!
"Jira! Get to that girl! Do not let her leave!"
A teary reunnion, and facetouching... atleast Jira wasn't the only one who recognized Jiro as cheating the universe. She nibbles more burger and is about to bite into a chip when- %r "Jira! Get to that girl!" passing her food off to Jiro and glowing a bright pink. She doesn't say anything as she lowers down into a launch position and stares at Mimiru- taking a rocket kick and bursting forward.. a dreary, whispering scream of psionic energy ripples in her wake. Any sensitives or empaths would feel the sadness, the bottomless pain, the compellation of violence. And finally, the relief of release as it fades. A neat, Jira-sized streak of pink ribbons out behind her as she dashes forward and carves past people in her task.
If Mimi isn't particularly aware, or near an exit, Jira makes a straight path to her and an attempt to lightly grab her shoulder before politely asking if she'll come back with her to Alma for a moment... but, ofcourse if Mimi's about to exit, she loads up Akabara to make a distraction.
Alma takes another deep breath. That's right. Even in a situation like this, he has to pull himself together. Meeting Mimiru made him think of himself and his own desires for the first time in a long while. But he's been a leader all this time, and being relied on by others has become second-nature. His volunteers are looking at him in shock and concern. He blinks away the tears which stain his cheeks and manages to regain his composure. What Jiro is telling him is important now.
"An omen..."
Now that the shock has begun to wear off, Alma's expression becomes thoughtful again, an all-too familiar expression that hasn't changed in the seven years this Jiro has skipped.
"Inexplicable disasters are occurring all over the world. Mass disappearances are being reported. And now--" He pauses. "Those from the past return." He closes his eyes for a moment, and his assistant with the clipboard, normally tight-lipped but now solicitous and unsure, steps in.
"Mr. Towazu?" she says softly. "What should we do?"
When his eyes open, he has come to decision. "I must go to Paris," he says, turning to his assistant. "Of any of the phenomena we know to be occurring now, that is the one I am best equipped to investigate. I must delegate the improvements and repairs of the YFCC, and the safeguarding of its inhabitants as the ash falls, to you. Whatever is occurring, it is greater than we know. Jiro--"
The boy is looking after the tall young woman with whom Alma was with only a moment ago. He does not know what Jiro's plans are in this world, if he has any. But this comes before. He cannot be the one to decide whether Jiro and Mimiru meet. He cannot bear to make that choice himself. But it seems that Jiro has made it for him.
Standing near Jiro, tearstreaks still visible upon his scarred cheeks, Alma looks over toward Mimiru and Jira, expression nigh unfathomable in its war of emotions, and watches, and waits.
It's not hard to actually catch up with Mimiru since she wasn't hasting herself out of the airport -- the true challenge was not losing her in the crowd. When Jira's hand finally sets on her shoulder, Mimiru blinks and she turns on her heels to glance up at the woman.
"What..?" She asks, assessing her for a moment. The look on her face obviously shows she's wondering who the hell she is... She's not one of Alma's assistance, she would have recognized her with those pink ribbons, "No, thank you," She replies politely, feeling she doesn't have to justify her refusal. She lifts her hand up to gently push Jira's hand aside. She thought she was pretty clear with Alma on this, and even so, she doubts this woman actually works for him. It just made this situation all the more suspicious.
Grunt. There is the same Alma that Jiro remembers. The one Alma who is always cool demeanored about everything. The calm and collected Alma. "...Heh. That's more like it." Jiro was uneasy with the mushy stuff. However, Jiro considers Alma's words and he grunts, "Yeah, the tournament organizer is shady in that department."
Gritting his teeth, Jiro looks back at Alma, "You go to Paris. I'll catch up. First..." Jiro is noticing that there is a bit of a struggle off of the corner of hs eye. He is turning around and he races off. The air is sniffed briefly and then he chasers after her and Jira.
...What was that Psycho Power that Jira had used? It is difficult to discern her nature, even with his experiences with Alma. However, by the time that Jiro is weaving through the crowd...
He rushes over between Mimiru and Jira.
"You're not going anywhere until we have a talk."
The expression of the younger man is facing Mimiru. He is staring up at her. "... There is no way that this is her..." He mutters, "...She was a pipsqueak." Jiro is looking uneasy now.
Jira pants quietly, the pink energy fades away from around her, but she doesn't let her grip up. She then looks up at Mimi incredulously to catch her balance.
"Jiro-kun wants to talk to you.. I think he knows you and he told mme to make sure you don't leave, he's not lik-" she pauses and sighs with deep huff at the end. "You'll know when you see" she doesn't finish the sentence as the star of it, Jiro, is already there. She releases Mimi then and lets them.. mingle.
Alma watches as Jiro approaches where Jira has stopped Mimiru, standing where he is for now, visible to them in the distance, unmoving and inscrutible. His assistant looks up at him over the rims of her glasses as the silence continues. "Shouldn't you go to them?" she finally says, in a tone half gentle and half chiding.
"They're my best friends in the world," Alma replies quietly, looking after them, "but we're not family." Whatever happens now, he cannot bring himself to intervene so soon, not before Mimiru has had the opportunity to process this in her own way.
"Yes, clearly," she replies in a bit of a huff, glancing away.
Alma gives her a puzzled look.
Mimiru frowns as Jira's grip tightens a bit on her shoulder to prevent her from pulling her hand away. She stares at her in the eye, wondering just who the heck she was, obviously caught flat-footed by her reaction. When Jira finally speaks again, Mimiru just shakes her head slowly. "You've got the wrong person, sorry..." She simply replies to her, "Now let go of me, please," She asks politely.
She doesn't have to insist though since Jira lets go once another person intervenes in this encounter. Mimiru's eyes widen for a moment, staring up at the teenager, "Look.." She says with a soft sigh, as if she's had enough of all this, "I don't know who you are, I don't know anyone around here, you've got the wrong person..." She says, trying to ignore the teenager's weird antics.
She then turns on her heels, "We don't have anything to say..." She says a bit irritated.
"Thanks, Jira."
Jiro is grateful for his cousin intervening to prevent Mimiru's escape. The more that the younger teenager looks up at the adult before him, Jiro is starting to realize something. It is, at first, bemused. The Stray Dog cannot help but to awe at how much his own little sister has changed and became an adult.
Of course, she is denying the situation. She is denying knowing who he is. She is denying his existence.
Finally, Jiro snaps at the girl, now stepping up towards the taller girl's face.
"BULLSHIT!" His once cool blue eyes changes to a green color with the slit forming in places of his irises. "Do you really think that I will believe you for one moment as you try to deny who the hell I am? Do you think I am that stupid to let you pass by? I didn't recognize you at first."
"Mimiru."
"However, I am here in whereever I am, I will make sure everyone who I have memories of fucking know who I am!"
Jira huffs at Mimiru, about to give words but doesn't. There is a tinge of regret, and an unusual glean in her eye as she pulls the loaded round out of Akabara and returns it to the space under her vest neatly. It's a wonder she can fit anything in there at all, let along a bullet the size of a small energy drink. (think 2 of those 5hr energy shots)
Then Jiro barks out unpresidently and has Jira retreating and looking ready to act, but she does ease up, then gasp in confusion. "Wait.... you mean, that's little cousin Mimiru-chan(to her atleast)? But, she's even taller than I am!" she fusses and puffs up. "Our family.."
"No," Alma is saying, "what's the matter?"
"Nothing is the matter, Mr. Towazu," replies his assistant in a voice like an icicle. "I'll deal with the rumors sure to spread of your displays of public affection and intimate overseas voyage with a delivery girl, never fear."
"Hm," he says contemplatively, cupping his chin with his hand. "Do you think it will be bad?"
The assistant's eyebrow twitches.
But before the conversation can continue, Alma turns, his expression turning serious as he hears Jiro shout, causing heads other than his to turn. If it's come to a confrontation, then he can't stand idly by any longer. Nodding to excuse himself, he begins to walk over to the group of three, his features firm but his eyes soft. If it wasn't easy for him--
"Mimiru," he says quietly as he approaches.
He can't imagine what this will be like for her.
"It's him. From the past."
But even so--
"We don't know how or why, but it's true."
They can't look away. Neither of them.
"The situation," he says in almost a whisper, "has changed."
Mimiru's facial expression turns into an icy one. She glares at Jiro, an intense anger building up and glowing in her iris. Her fingers curl into fist, tightening and relaxing as she listens to his shouts. Her lips twitch a bit, not out of hatred, but saddness at what this look-like is forcing her to endure.
Her hands lift up to grasp the collar of Jiro's clothes. He got close enough to her to at least allow her to try to do it with relative ease. She tries to control herself, but the rage and anger she felt is still obvious in her voice as she whispers to him, "Look, I don't know who you are but," She then takes a slow pause between each word, "you are not Jiro,"
When Alma comes closer to her and calls her name, Mimiru lets go of Jiro and she turns her attention to him, taking a step back. His words cause her cold expression to switch rather dramatically. Her mouth opens a bit, out of surprise... But the pained look on her face, for a moment, feels more like one of betrayal, which slowly turns into disappointment as she closes her mouth, recovering from the shock, as if Alma just stabbed her.
"Jiro's dead," She simply replies to Alma, clearing her throat, her voice full of conviction. She glares at him, and then back at Jiro, one last time. She had nothing else to say. She turns on her heels.
And then... Mimiru lifts him up. As she finally keeps her eyes at him and the young man grits his teeth.
Yet, Alma interjects and vouches for him. However, Mimiru denies once more and he finally twitches. This has been the common thing he has heard.
He is tired of it.
"...Do you realize..."
The hand extend out right in front of Mimiru to block her off. This time, the hand forms what appears to be a flicker of the white blaze. However, that bitterness... That hatred. That gutwrenching wrath.
The flames become as black as the night. And those flames explode, as if warning Mimiru not to take another step past him. This is likely to cause a panic in the crowd that is likely already volatile from the impending end of the world.
"---how /tired/ I am of hearing that?!"
The glares right at Mimuru, and then his eyes shift towards Alma, and then Jira. Realizing the black flames had ignited, Jiro extinguishes the flames and he catches himself.
"I found myself racing against this bozo's--" He jabs a thumb at Alma, "--fiancee, Miss Forehead, in a race. Blinded by a light, wake up here in what looks like to be the fucking apocalypse."
He grits his teeth, "I've heard it all. A ghost. Memories of a past. An omen. I barely know where I am! I am in a place where I am seeing the people that I know older than I am. I am in a place where I don't belong because everything is so unfamiliar! However, the matter of the fact is this! I am here! I don't know why! But I am here!"
Jira is put off by Alma's interference, and Mimiru's continuing denial. Her left hand twitches itchily, and she's obviously fighting to keep it still with all the aggression in the air. That's all fine, she can digest this input and work on her hand- until that accursed natural energy rises up and her hand claps over her mouth followed by a brief backpedaling.
"Please, Mimiru-san.. there -has- to be a reason all of our generation are here, at this time. None of us would normally be here in the airport, everything led up to the current Kasagi generation all gathering here. And Jiro-kun's ... reappearance, there cannot be lack of purpose behind it." she blurts out after Jiro's questioning of his presence.
"Even if you leave and never come again into our lives, I can forgive you. But if you refuse him as your brother, I will have to show you the strength of my conviction here and now." following this is a click from her gun as the cylinder rotates.
It's all Alma can do not to cringe at Mimiru's look.
He was going to let her walk away. They would cherish what they had, and someday, they would return to one another, so he would resolutely believe. And their lives would go on, allowing them to continue to grow and heal, one step at a time, fumbling their way forward with hope in their hearts. That's how it was supposed to happen, how their world was supposed to go. It was good that way. But the situation has changed. Rather--
"This world," he says quietly, "is no longer our own."
Behind him, past the arrayed onlookers and retinue, it has begun to snow on the other side of the vast terminal windows, a sooty grey snow that sends the crowds to buzzing. The ash cloud has finally begun its approach, and spread by the winds, the ashes are beginning to scatter down. There is not much for now, but it s a foreboding sign of what is to come, quicker than anticipated. Within several days, it may not be possible for normal passenger planes to fly from here.
And then there are shouts as Jiro's flames erupt. Quickly, without his composure breaking, Alma rests a hand on Jiro's shoulder, calm and reassuring. Within moments, Jiro is able to extinguish his flames, but the damage has been done to thw crowd, already further unsettled by the coming of the ash. Alma scans the surroundings and then nods back toward the YFCC volunteers still awaiting orders, who set about doing what they do best, fanning out and attempting to restore calm among the people.
His gaze shifts to Jira, who has begun to speak at length now. The girl appears to have met Jiro first, most likely after Alma had taken her to the YFCC. He is no stranger to violence as proof of one's conviction, and a trained fighter need not fear instant death from a gun, though he knows what that weapon truly is. But a fight here could cause mass panic. "Mimiru, this is Jira Kasagi," he interjects, tone soft and mollifying, "your distant cousin. I met her several days ago, and thought it a strange coincidence. But now, with all these events occurring at once, as though by some grand design--"
It hurts even to look at Mimiru, and even if he doesn't look at her, the pain radiating from her is nearly enough to drive the psychic to his knees. Mimiru's mental fortitude is truly phenomenal, but if it is contingent on denying Jiro's existence here, it must be overcome.
"We must face this reality if we are to make any sense of it," he concludes, "and take our fates into our own hands, together."
Nothing of this made any sense -- Jiro's jibberish or his presence here. Mimiru's eyes widen at Jiro's reaction, or rather, the way his hand burns with this flame. It is hard to deny that this teenager in front of her shares a lot of similarity with her brother... Too much to be a coincidence, much likely.
The anger slowly fades away, leaving its place to saddness.. A bit of loss and despair, "I..." She glances over to Alma, then back at Jiro. She had no idea what to believe or what to think.
Her lips curl into a faint, the expression on her face alike to a mother smiling at her child's ignorance. Her voice is soft, a bit trembling when she speaks, "I don't expect you to understand," She says, "Just... Leave me alone and let me go..." She adds with a soft sigh, her eyes almost pleading him to acknowledge her request.
She spares a glance at Alma, seeking support, as if knowing he, unlike Jiro, might understand her reasons. When he speaks about Jira, Mimiru glances back at her... The name seemed familiar somewhat, could it really be it? It was just too many things to assimiliate in one evening.
She stares at Jira for a moment -- obviously, her request was meant to her as well. She doesn't react to the sound of the cylinder, nor the idle threat that came from her.
The old Mimiru might have responded this as a challenge and charged head on...
But this Mimiru was different.
And Jira is prepared to jump in at this. The initial thought is to glare at her, but he is reminded that she is also a relative as well. Jiro /really/ has to get used to the fact that he has another relative outside of Mimiru and their mother. He also has to get used to the fact that the world's situation has caused the general public to become volatile. It does not help that he has already created a mess with the exposure of the dark flames within his arm.
...Those flames that he had not learned to control. The flames, as the tournament organizer told him, may consume him.
However, Alma manages to calm Jiro down with the hand over his shoulder. It is a calm, reassuring hand. His head lowers, shaking his head. "...Ugh." He looks over towards Mimiru, a girl pleading for him to acknowledge her request to leave her alone.
"...What a waste of my time."
Jiro finally brings his arms down. There is a bitter edge to it, "...This is what became of the person who once put a shock collar on me and sold me for a chicken sandwich." Ahh, the memories of good times. "Heh."
"If that's what you want. Fine." He lifts his shoulders with a shrug. "I'm through wasting my time hoping to get through to someone who is running away."
"Alma, I'm assuming you have entered the Gaia Tournament as well." His eyes shift straight towards his old friend with a grin forming. "...so have I. I'll give you a small warning. The organizer. He is not right. He's not human. That's all that I know."
"Anyway, Jira, let's go. We have a plane to catch soon." Jiro's eyes narrow at the ground. There is that bitter taste in his mouth. Part of Jiro hoped to see the old Mimiru linger forth. He wanted to see what became of her.
... This was disappointing. Just like this world.
Bitterly as he starts to walk off, he muses. "...Heh. A ghost. I'm sure I'll figure out why I am here."
Jira's twitchy hand is over her gun, ready to make her point. A great amount of disappointment radiates from her with such a passive reply from Mimiru, Alma is about forgotten with her single focus. She hears about a shock collar and sold for a sandwich after the flames die down, resisting an urge to laugh. Her aggressive stance and itchy hand immediately drop at Jiro's instruction.
Jira turns to face Jiro and walks quietly behind him, to his left and resting her right hand on his left shoulder. She pulls her earpiece from her vest and quietly murmurs into it, ordering for whoever was on the other line to look after the woman with goggles on her head for awhile, as security. She mentions the flight she's to be on and to report to her Sensei. Then thanks them and puts the earpiece into her vest and continues quietly.
Alma stands quietly, meeting Mimiru's sad gaze until she looks away, unmoving even as Jiro and Jira turn to leave. Some of the crowd around them remains restless, but he ignores them, focusing on her.
It wasn't supposed to be this way. A pointless thought, echoing.
"Mimiru, I have to go."
Madness has descended upon this world. The crystalline future that shined so bright mere moments ago has shattered, a dream fragmented by a senseless reality. But Alma, man of purpose, already has a mission. And Mimiru, grown woman, will and must make her own choices. He could not make her stay with him here in their world. And he cannot make her come with Jiro in whatever world this is.
"No matter what happens," he adds, "I'll wait for you."
She need never come, never accept this reality, never surrender the person she's fought so hard to become. That's her decision. And this is Alma's decision: to hope that she will come to them of her own volition, to join forces one last time. Until then--
"Do what you must."
Alma turns away, and follows Jiro.
Within moments, his long stride has caught up to Jiro and Jira, one hand slipping into the pocket of his slim slacks in a characteristic pose. "I intended to fight in a charity match in response to the disasters," he says calmly, as though none of the previous confrontation had occurred, "but it appears we must concern ourselves with deeper matters. I've decided heading to Paris is my best bet, if you care to join me there." At the comment about the organizer, Alma smiles ever so slightly. "Somehow, I'm unsurprised. Fear not, Jiro," he continues. "If you commit yourself unerringly to your task, your resolve will be rewarded, no matter in what world you dwell."
The renewal that Mimiru granted him has not faded, for all the upsets that have occurred in the last few minutes. Though scarred and older, Alma's smile retains its radiance.
"True passion cannot be denied."
When Jiro manages to control himself and calms down, after her words have managed to convince him not to push it further, not to impose himself on her right this moment, Mimiru nods slowly to him. This gesture was filled with her gratitude and it was easy to feel it.
Before Mimiru parts ways with Jiro though, her lips part and she says, "I've moved along..." Her voice is soft, but her intonation seemed cold and stern. It's hard to tell whether or not she said this reply to Jiro's accusations or as an explanation for her behaviour.
She turns on her heels and walks away, without giving a glance to Alma or Jira... Nor to this teenager who pretends to be Jiro, her dead brother. Once she no longer looks at then, the rest of their conversation seems to fall on deaf ears on Mimiru's part...
She keeps on walking away, not looking back.
Never staying at the same place for too long, Mimiru had become a stray : no family, no ties, no regrets...
Never looking back, no regrets...
Mimiru speeds up her pace, closing her eyes as she feels that repressed saddness overfilling her as she loses herself in the crowd.
Never looking back, no regrets...
The tears swell up in her eyes, flowing freely. She keeps on moving, but she's not all there, her brain has taken over her motions so she can keep on moving... She had to keep on moving, and not look back. It was, after all, the only way to stay alive. To keep on moving.
Though for the first time in those seven years, Mimiru stops and she looks back... Lost in the middle of the crowd...
Log created on 20:46:56 08/21/2014 by Alma, and last modified on 01:05:17 08/22/2014.