Description: A mysterious presence called forth various fighters into the abandoned school of Gedo High and among them was Jiro Kasagi. As those close to Jiro were called forth, all of them find the source of the person who called them. It is a tale of happiness and wounds re-opening.
Gedo High.
This is the school where the more rowdy students generally go for classes. It is an outdated set of buildings that decorate the campus. Their colors have a muted, dusty look. Despite of the dusty look, it normally houses such a fierce fighting spirit through murals and other ways of expression.
...Not today.
Today, there is a strange anomaly that exists. This presence is what makes the school desolate. There is not one single life here. No stray animal have treaded, no student lingered.
It is empty.
What is the most foreboding is the fact that many of the people who will arrive at the school... They may have received the feeling that they have been specifically called for.
One of those who has that feeling is the Stray Dog, who is walking at the entrance of the school. He comes to a stop, lowering his head while a hand rests on his chest. "...Why am I called here?" He grits his teeth.
In the wake of a harrowing nuclear scare, someone's off-screen noble sacrifice, and a heart-to-heart with a dead friend... Howard Rust, in the lead-up to taking that eventual plunge into the vortex, is at the verge of collapse from exhaustion and sleep deprivation that he can't allow himself to succumb to when time is at a premium and every waking hour is important to experience.
To this end, he is now walking the ash-strewn streets of Southtown with a large, very fancy-looking coffee pot with the logo of Pacific High plastered upon it, the container three-quarters full of liquid bean goodness at an unpleasant room temperature and a taste that has been diluted from being left in the pot for several days.
He sips it every so often as though it were a rationed delicacy as he makes one final set of rounds around Southtown, and casts yet another odd figure of someone who appears almost aimless and clueless the way he always does... and now he's carrying a pot of coffee no doubt being polluted further by whatever flitting ash ends up getting in there.
Something compels him to swing by home - living a street away from Gedo - and that something sees him drawn ever closer to that school for reasons that aren't entirely clear. (Maybe he is hoping to loot, er... find! Find more coffee.) He coughs every so often as he waves his hand among the little ash clouds that kick up as he walks, looking over his shoulder as though wondering if there really is much point now to wandering aimlessly when it's going to come time to have everyone who's able and willing to make that final stand... stand up.
He eyes the coffee pot he holds. He's not sure if this much will hold him, and he's already feeling bad enough about effectively breaking and entering at his old workplace in a state of absolute emergency to stay awake, alert... ready.
Taking a breath, he heads along into the foreboding air of Gedo High which, for all its stillness and emptiness, somehow feels more foul than all the volcanic ash clouds he has undoubtedly inhaled.
It's not long before he comes across...
"...Jiro?" Howard Rust speaks up, walking ever closer with the coffee pot still in his left hand. "You, uh... you don't, you don't strike me as the, ah, coffee type."
Why would he assume anyone else is there for the coffee?
On the battlefield at the end of the world, Alma has been nowhere to be seen.
Since returning from Paris with Tran in the wake of Southtown's nuclear threat, the psychic has not sought out the Time Gate or pursued those seeking to use the Time Spheres for their own ends. Even as the whole world crumbles, he has busied himself with comparatively small tasks. He has run martial arts training sessions in the YFCC. He has heard the requests of the young fighters taking shelter there and marched all thoroughout Southtown and Sunshine City in efforts to fulfill them. He has laughed and played and listened.
He has shown no sign that he knows it will all end soon.
And from time to time, he will simply walk, roaming through the city he loves. He will sit at his favorite cafe and sip his favorite tea. He will stand in the park and sketch, which he so rarely has found time to do in recent years. He will go wherever his heart takes him, whatever or whoever he wants to see one more time, though soon any sense of its value he possesses will vanish.
And so he is here.
Alma approaches the entrance to Gedo High with the slow and steady pace of a sightseer, at ease in dress shirt and tailored slacks. A truly savage scar now peeks up from his unbuttoned collar, contrasting with his gentle, even serene expression. Soon the corners of his lips rise. He recognizes the boy before him immediately. Even that expression of torment is familiar, though unseen for so many years.
"You felt it too?"
Knowing as he does now his fate, the nostalgia of seeing this Jiro does not sweep him away this time. Instead, Alma turns to the redoubtable Rust, who is there inexplicably wielding a coffee pot. The psychic elects to spend several precious seconds of his remaining time on Earth contemplating this.
"Ah," he suddenly says. "I could've brought my tea set."
No, it's not a tea party.
It had been ages since Mimiru returned to South Town. Something drew her there a few weeks ago, to the place she had sworn never to return, and now something brings her here once more. It's a feeling that cannot be described, a calling she has to answer, much like the first time she came back...
It took her a long time to accept this calling the first time, but the second time, she just follows her heart and wanders around South Town aimlessly, letting the nostalgia and all sort of memories fill her.
Her stroll eventually brings her to Gedo High, the source that has drawn Mimiru here, along with many others.
Hands in her jacket pockets, Mimiru slowly walks toward the school, her gaze lost in the building's details for a moment. Mimiru lowers her gaze as she approaches and hears familiar voices. Could it be...?
A faint blush spreads on her cheeks when she notices Alma and her brother, "What are you two doing here?" She asks, genuinely surprised.
She glances up at Rust and lowers her gaze at the coffee pot, a smile spreading on her lips, "If you're offering some coffee, I certainly wouldn't mind some, if you have a cup..."
Relentlessly working has been the only way to get by. Everyday spent in volunteer efforts left her exhausted enough to sleep at night. No task was too hard, no distance too far - what any of the different organized or barely organized aid endeavors required of her, she would help eagerly. Her home, oft times in the past vacant, has slowly filled with refuges - those invited in off the streets as the city becomes more and more noxious to life. It reminds her of the Southtown War. Except back then, they knew who to fight, who to resist. This time, it seems as if the Earth itself was the enemy and the only option available is to survive.
Still, Hotaru has kept her spirits up, lost in the service to those in need, spending time with her students and their families, and moving throughout the city to render assistence wherever she can. Every action she takes is with a sense of urgency - that never ending sense that if she doesn't do or say the things she desires to now, there will not be a chance to do so.
She finds herself near Gedo High - a great many things began there, though she was not a student within its walls. So many friends were made there. So many of her early challenges were fought there. But she wouldn't have stopped as she passes by, her mind focused on the message she was asked to deliver.
But all it takes is an idle glance at its outer walls as she moves at a brisk pace past the block to evoke an unexpected pause, a cant of the head, a faint frown. It wouldn't hurt to look inside for a moment... no, in fact, she should do that, she muses.
Perhaps there is someone in need there as well.
It is hard to tell what color her blouse and pants once were, given their present ashen grey hue. Her hair rests against her shoulders, tied into two pigtails out of habit more than intent.
Thus it is that she finds that the school is not empty, that others have found their way here. A quick glance over the faces of them and the focused, quietly stressed expression she had born melts into a warm smile of recognition.
"I think we're all a bit too old to be hanging around here again, aren't we?"
A glance is given towards Rust upon his arrival. For a few moments, Jiro looks at the older man with a very perplexed expression. "W-..what?" He squints towards the coffee pot in his hand, then he closes his eyes briefly. This situation becomes even more complicated(read: headache-inducing) when Alma arrives soon afterwards. It isn't quite of Alma's appearance that makes it headachey.
When Jiro turns his attention to see the aged friend of his, the Stray Dog can only return the look with a smile.
...It is the statement of a tea party that forms a scowl on his face.
"God damnit, Alma."
Interjecting the boy from verballing ripping apart Alma is Mimiru, who makes her appearance known. The expression of the young man becomes more demure and his head bows. "...Hi, big sis.." However, his eyes draw over towards another figure who has made herself known with her heartfelt joke.
His eyes widen at the sight of Hotaru. His gaze turns the other way, looking a bit sheepish. "...H-hey." It still feels rather awkward to see her. It is amusing that she is now older than him. ... Well, everyone is older than him.
A sigh exhales before he decides to bring everything together.
"Well, I am getting the feeling that all of us have been called here..." He lowers his head, "...I had something pulling me here."
It takes Howard to ask the obvious question as everyone gathers.
"Why're, uh, why're we all here? I mean... we're, uh, we're not all that, that hard up for coffee, are we," he thinks to ask as Alma jokes about bringing a tea set, as Mimiru hopes he's sharing that coffee (given how he holds the pot a little closer to himself when she asks, he's clearly hesitant).
Given that nobody questions the latest in the incredibly weird and discordant set of colors his clothing consists of despite being the exact same outfit he usually wears otherwise, maybe he hasn't much of a right to ask.
He grunts incoherently and appears to relent in possessiveness of the lukewarm days-old coffee, no doubt in acknolwedgement of how much she has to have gone through with Jiro himself. That's... probably worthy of an entire pot of coffee, he inwardly concedes.
"If, uh, if we can... find some to borrow," he looks off to the side as he coughs again once. "'scuse me."
Off to the side, where Hotaru has appeared. It's a true statement - just about everyone here really don't look like they belong in these parts, and yet, here they are.
"Called?" Howard looks back over to Jiro, rolling his right shoulder as though making sure to get in his mandated quota of disconcerting joint pops. He casts another glance among all the gathered, scratching the side of his head as those fingers dig into that atrocity.
"Called, you mean, like... someone... someone asked you guys to be here, or?" He looks entirely confused and out of the loop, which is pretty much par for the course for the man, let's be real here. "I mean, I... I guess, I, I kinda... did come here just... for... no reason..."
He has every reason to hurry back out and leave, to work his way back to the city of Ise and prepare for the final plunge - chances to really sit down and spend the last hours this world has with loved ones, but he still clings tenuously to being able to do /something/. (Something... other than be entranced by coffee.)
Quite the crowd has formed.
At Jiro's scowl, Alma grins, the same warm mirthful expression he would always display when needling the Stray Dog with excessively innocent or deadpan remarks. In that look, it is as though no time has passed at all. He carries that feeling with him as his gaze turns to the friends gathered here.
It is Rust and Hotaru who have been the most familiar sights in recent years, what with Rust being called on for maintanence work despite being a hero in his own right, and Hotaru now having numerous devoted students. Alma and Rust never grew close, perhaps, the psychic reflects, simply due to their exceedingly different manners, having never been thrown into the kind of do-or-die situation that would compel them to surmount that divide. But Hotaru-- since years ago, he has thought of her as like a little sister, and though she is older and accomplished now--
"Some things never change," he replies to her, still smiling wide.
Then again, some things do. Alma's smile doesn't fade and he does not avert his eyes, but he does look at Mimiru somewhat askance, not so much unsettled as seemingly distracted. He can't help but see her in a different light. It's a new experience for him, so, as he always does, he reflects on it silently. For his sake, let's not examine his internal monologue. Eventually, though, he does catch up with the conversation. "Big sis?" Mimiru and this Jiro seem to have come to terms. It's a great relief. "If we're changing relations, why not call me 'big bro', Jiro?"
Alma then hesitates, adopting a serious expression.
"Ah, wait," he murmurs. "That wouldn't be appropriate now."
Alma!!
When Jiro and Rust speak of being 'called', Alma nods calmly. He's used to this sort of thing, anyway. "If we've been summoned collectively," he adds, "I would surmise this one is the reason." He gestures toward Jiro, smiling again. "Perhaps we'll come to learn why you've been called to this time in the first place."
If there is a reason-- if there needs to be.
Hot coffee would have felt good. So good, but things aren't looking good for that. Mimiru simply offers Howard a shrug of her shoulders, "Oh, don't worry about it if it's too much trouble," Mimiru replies casually.
Then she hears Jiro calls her big sis. Mimiru's lips curl into a wide, pleased smile. She approaches closer and lifts one hand up to ruffle his hair, a greeting gesture. One Jiro used a lot on Mimiru when she was younger and shorter, "Yeah, why not? I think that's a great idea," She concurrs with Alma, mostly to tease Jiro.
When Alma becomes more serious, so does Mimiru though. She's about to ask him a question, but it seems everyone's reactions more or less answer her questions. She glances over to Hotaru and she smiles, "Long time no see, Hotaru.." Mimiru says with a slow nod. It had been years.
Mimiru glances up at the school and says, "I was just taking a stroll. I felt like seeing around Southtown one last time..."
At mention of being called to this reunion of sorts, Hotaru can't help but glance up at the campus itself. It's quiet - a state it was rarely in before. Ash blows through courtyards and off of the roofs. The same, lovingly worn down but maintained look persists beneath it all. Was she called here? Perhaps as much as anyone might be, she ponders.
Jiro's reaction at seeing her is caught, a distant look in her eyes lasting for a fleeting moment, a short lifetime's worth of memories called to mind. When did she first see him this way - how did he look the last time she saw him before word of his death echoed out of the war torn disaster overseas?
She lets everyone else speak, seeming to prefer to simply listen to the voices of the others, each chiming in, one after another, each a reminder of the past experiences that had come to define who she was as a person. Such priceless memories...
"I'm not sure," she finally murmurs in response to Rust's visible uncertainty about what they were doing here. "I-" She glances to the side. Is there any need to excuse being here, among friends? There is something familiar about this atmosphere, and for a moment, it becomes easy to forget the stray cinders that drift past, carried by forboding drafts of air. "Maybe that's what happened," she allows, completing her thought. Maybe it doesn't matter.
Her attention is on Alma then. Time has changed him as it has her. Of his fights, his suffering, his trials, she knows little to nothing but what is engraved on his face, spoken by his eyes. He knows something. Her attention on him lingers before he too speaks about their presence here and the boy displaced by time - a visitor from their past, untouched by the years of hardship but also not forged by the triumphs she knows he went on to obtain after this point in his life.
"Even if there is no reason for it, I am glad that it happened, Jiro."
Rust is studied for a moment. Of those gathered, he seems to be in the worst condition. What has he seen? What knowledge weighs him down? That he has taken to coffee instead of something to help him forget like so many others she has come across in this city's last days, is imrpessive, but it doesn't mitigate the exhaustion trying to crush him beneath its thumb.
Finally, she looks at Mimiru, her words catching her attention, right after the greeting afforded her. "Too long, I feel," she answers softly, hands clasping together in front of her as she ponders quietly upon the young woman's words.
'One last time.'
Hearing it said out loud makes it hard to put out of mind. Reverently, she glances up at the tall buildings lining the age-worn High School. "Shall we, then?" she nods further into the campus.
Jiro Towazu says, "Yeah... It was a like a tug pulling me here," Jiro notes towards Rust.
One can see the face of the Stray Dog turn as Alma makes a recommendation to call Alma 'Big bro'. He gives a very thin smile and he turns his attention to fully give Alma his undivided attention. It is a smile.
It is a very angry smile.
"I will end you."
Of course, the ferocity behind his threat is likely underminded as Mimiru moves over to ruffle his hair. Ah, the times have changed.
However, the situation becomes more serious. His head lowers over towards the ground. The feeling of that inner darkness in him grows. Has he given up to that darkness that day?
Tsch.
Jiro shakes his head, "Let's go in. I want to get this over with.." He decides to brave the depths of the school. However, he takes one last look at Hotaru before pressing his hands against the door. It is a time that the boy finally smiles her way.
"Thank you."
The Stray Dog makes his way at the very edge of the facility, opening the doors.
As the doors bust open... a brief light glimmer from the entrance.
It is at the very entrance of the school that vague images of various students are passing by.
At the very end of the halls are shrouded with a mist. Along the very way of the hallway is covered with the mist to obscure the view.
However... a voice speaks out, as muffled as it can be. The voice sounds rather distorted, but at the same time, clear.
>> "... This place bring back memories. Some wonderful, some not so much. However, these are memories that I cherish." <<
"
Everyone here felt 'compelled' to arrive. For them, it might be an unusual feeling. At this point, Frei has stopped questioning it. For lack of a better word, he just sort of... appears, after Hotaru says her 'shall we?', with relatively little fanfare. It's like he just sort of... fades into existence, off to the side, carefully positioned to not be in anyone's way and to be perfectly visible to everyone.
For a moment, he blinks, closing his hands into fists and then splaying his fingers out again, briefly confused. It doesn't last long, though. Instead he looks around and takes stock of who's actually here with him right now.
The time-lost Stray Dog, his now quite older sister, Alma, Hotaru, Rust... all of them chance encounters in their own way, in Frei's life. He met Jiro in Angkor Wat, of all places, while the former was training to make himself stronger. He met Mimiru when he'd first come to Southtown and the young girl was determined to find and defeat the 'heads of Orochi,' a bizarrely prophetic fantasy. Alma and Hotaru were initially fascinating foes in the world of pro fighting that turned into life-long relationships. And Rust? Well... there was probably something about a bench involved, there, which just proves that great things can come from humble beginnings indeed.
"I, uh..." the redhead says, briefly at a loss for words, bringing a hand up to rub the back of his neck for a second before shaking his head and smiling. No matter what, it does his heart good to see all these people in one place. Maybe for a second it's a good excuse to forget about the rest of things on his mind, on the horizon.
"It's nice to s--"
He's cut off by the voice from the mist. HAUNTED SCHOOL.
It's sort of amazing to stop and think about what sorts of things you could have gotten to know about people had they had more time to speak with one another - like Rust and Alma, who no doubt have seen one another countless times and yet never had been able to sit down and really talk.
Now isn't quite the time to reminisce over what could have been, as Howard largely drags himself in with the rest as he casts odd glances at all of them. Hotaru's observation of him is spot-on - he does appear like he's barely even together after all he's gone through, and yet, he trudges along anyway rather than curling up in a corner, waiting for... whatever comes next.
He seems a spectator in all of this, as though along for the ride. When the distorted voice comes, he looks behind himself as though expecting someone else to have shown up.
"Uhh, hello? Wh-who's there?" Howard asks, coughing once again as he waves dust away from his face with his free hand.
Alma too, like Hotaru, slowly adopts a solemn visage at Mimiru's portentious words. This may indeed be the last time they gather like this. For whatever reason they were called, there is no turning back now.
Not after coming this far.
He follows after Jiro, offering the faintest of smiles at the young Stray Dog's voiced desire, walking alongside Mimiru and glancing out of the corner of his eye at her, when Frei materializes. Alma pauses momentarily, unfazed by anything at this point, not that he would be to begin with. Almost immediately, his smile widen again, if only briefly. "I feared I wouldn't see you again, Frei," he says softly. By some miracle, they can still all be together for a little while longer. "Thank you for--"
He too is interrupted, turning his head sharply to regard the haunted halls of the abandoned school. He cannot sense any malicious intent, though he hardly knows to what degree his psychic senses detect the wills of vengeful spirits. But he does sense something which furrows his brow. A familiar presence, but an impossible one, just as impossible as the one standing before him. No--
"That voice--"
Exactly as impossible.
"Jiro?"
The sound is muffled and distorted, but, perhaps assisted by his second sight, Alma speaks what sounds like a question to the boy before him, in fact a statement of uncertain recognition.
Mimiru folds her arms in front of her chest and smiles at Hotaru and then back at Jiro. She offers her brother a nod and turns on her heels to follow after him. Since they were all there, why not?
"You know," Mimiru comments to Alma, "I didn't quite expect to me you again so soon... Guess fate's been reuniting all of us, eh?" Her eyes wander off toward Frei as he approaches. Much like Hotaru, it had been ages since she had seen him. All of the ones she had left behind when she left South Town years ago.
As they walk in, Mimiru turns her attention to the mist. She is wary and the voice they hear makes her body tense up a bit nervously. She turns her eyes to Alma, and then back to Jiro as he indirectly questions him.
Called or not, the lot of them are here. The finality of it isn't lost on Hotaru, as much as she has avoided dwelling too much on the fact that none of the calamities plaguing the world are relenting in the slightest... The intensity of every threat only seems to increase and hope dwindles when considered for too long. It shouldn't have taken some metaphysical calling to bring them here, she ponders to herself, seeing and hearing the ties that link them all together in one form or another. But now they're here.
And everyone seems willing to let the moment last a little longer by moving inward in pursuit of whatever thought brought them here. That sentiment is more than fine by her.
She is about to take a step when the newest arrival is suddenly there. Eyes are on Frei in an instant, even as he is still in the process of manifesting, widening at first in alarm then calming almost as quickly as his identity becomes clear. The open question lingers however as she looks at the man who she has long considered a friend, a fellow mentor to her first of what became many students. The way he arrived - the rest walked here, like anyone would. But he showed up just like a... well... a ghost?
"Frei..." his name is whispered with a soft mixture of wonder and worry, a hand extending without hesitation to reach for his when another voice is heard. She glances to the side, brow furrowed, breath held then. Who is... is that... Alma speaks the words already surging to the forefront of her thoughts. A glance is cast toward, well, the Jiro that shouldn't even be here.
Hearing his own name being called has Jiro turning back briefly to see Alma. However, in the midst of his turning, he spots Frei. His eyes widen at the sight of his old friend, "Frei!" His smile grows, but it soon fades away to turn towards the growing mist that collects around the school.
He looks over towards Rust for a moment, "I... I honestly don't even know. Maybe it's the cause of this whole deal..." ... Maybe this person is the answer as to why he is here. "...Maybe he is my answer."
Within the facilities, the shadows of the students who once attended the abandoned school walk around. The facility feels rather lively for a place that is abandoned. However, that liveliness is rather empty.
In the midst of it all was a scared looking boy who was holding onto his books. He wore a red gakuran, the traditional school outfit for males. This blond-haired boy looked rather new and a bit timid. However, he tries to maintain a very brave looking face. Soon, that scared teenager fades away into the crowd.
Jiro can only stare at the boy with a look of recognition.
"...That was once me." At first, Jiro wants to look away, but he knows deep down that it'll do no good. Even moreso, Jiro has that awkward feeling when Mimiru and Hotaru focus on him. This place makes Jiro very uncomfortable.
Alma's Second Sight does earn him something. More and more, the mist slowly subsides, clearing a way fo the students to pass the hall.
>> "It has been some time. This is where my new life began. Through it, I faced hell and back. I lost myself once. However, I managed to rebuild." <<
At the very end of the hall, they will come across a figure. This figure is wearing a black uniform. It is almost futuristic, in a way. A lot of technology has been involved with the design of the uniform. This particular figure has on his helmet as he scans along the surroundings.
Slowly, the figure turns around to face the arriving group.
>> "You finally arrived. I am glad to see that you all responded to my call." <<
This figure would be the most familiar to both Alma and Frei.
All this talk of being all brought together, by some ties... when truth be told, Howard Rust himself is probably in the fringes of familiarity for most of the gathered. There isn't any great sense of alienation for this fact. In many ways, there are few people that can't call him a friend on some level, for all the work and help he's given to others over the years. Some way, one way or another, he has no doubt been an influence on all their lives here... perhaps sometimes as little as being talked about as part of a passing joke with the way life just seems to shove him around and make his daily routines rife with inconvenience.
He is surprisingly stoic to it all once he comes to accept the inner bewilderment as to the hows and whys of it. He nods along to Jiro's speculation about the answer, for absolute lack of anything he could suggest otherwise.
Setting eyes upon Frei's appearance, he does wave a hand as if to say 'hey, come check this out' when he's already pretty much doing that, as though maybe some lingering fear - or hope? - that they might have yet stumbled on a new development for how one may find some way to get a handle on all this, if not exactly a solution.
When his attention goes back to the sights before him - the scared-looking young man disappearing into the crowd...
"J-Just like with, her," he mumbles aloud to himself, possibly accidentally setting a target on his back as someone that may actually have some familiarity with what's going on, as the tour continues to the figure in black.
"Y-You called us?" Rust asks of the one who shows gratitude for showing up, eyeing his coffee again and wondering if maybe this was all some elaborate, weird way to get a coffee delivery. He hides the coffee pot behind his back to be safe.
"Well, uh, you're... you're... welcome," he tries to speak with some sincerity although it fights the aging American's mental, physical, and emotional weariness about all that has come to pass. A certain someone present was right that there'd be no chance for rest.
Well. At least during all this, he can keep his sense of humor. "It's a long story," the redhead stagewhispers to Hotaru at that question, after giving Alma a small smile as well. "Have, uh... have you ever seen 'The Empire Strikes Back'?"
Probably not. You undead weirdo.
Thankfully, the realization that the voice they're hearing is Jiro's -- the 'real' Jiro, for lack of a better word, and not his time-lost younger self -- provides sufficient distraction from trying to explain his current state to anyone. Of course, it's not much of a surprise that this happens. The longer Frei stays 'outside' what might be called mortal existence, the more he's beginning to understand how this stuff can happen. This could be a lot of things: it could be Jiro's 'soul', it could be this place's memory of Jiro. It could be a lot of things.
The clothes, though... they briefly take Frei's breath away because they are a sad reminder of loss. The uniform belonged to the short-lived and well-intended 'Einherjar Initiative', a plan to forge fighters into an Avengers-like force for good in the world in the wake of the Southtown invasion however many years ago. It was the outfit Jiro was likely wearing when he met his end underneath Taizhou, China, during the second Jinchuu tournament. He and Alma had shared their memories of Jiro together a scant day later, fighting as they were against the forces that -- inadvertently or not -- brought Jiro's end.
And now at the end of all things, the forces that made Jiro into what he was, including his younger self, gather here.
Why would he call them all together, though? And how did that call reach Frei?
"It's, uh... it's good to see you," is all the redhead can manage.
Who's the undead weirdo here!?
Wait, there are like three at this point.
Alma looks alive enough as his eyes settle on Mimiru for a moment more, despite their phantasmal surroundings. "I'm grateful it has," he replies quietly, pausing for a moment, features inscrutible but gaze intent. "You look well," he adds at last.
Familiar sights call his eyes toward the fading ghostly forms, a glimpse of Jiro before Alma even knew him -- and then the Jiro who last he knew. After the defeat of Frei's clone and Kula's redemption, the Jiro who Adelheid more or less resurrected in the process of founding the Einherjar Initiative was never the same as the friend Alma knew. But at the limit of life and death, in the wake of Taizhou's chaos, Alma had met 'Ullr' again and at last been able to speak with him with memories intact.
"I never thought I'd see you again," he says, voice barely above a whisper, "while I yet lived."
After his final clash with Seishirou, he came to terms with the passing of this world without relinquishing his convictions, but his grace is not invincible. He swallows once, expression flickering. How many regrets he has, when he alows himself to acknowledge them. How many times he has failed in the pursuit of his impossible task, in the vain hope that someday he might make of this world a place where none like Jiro need sacrifice themselves again. He wants to apologize, endlessly, to beg forgiveness until the world ends.
But--
"Jiro," he says, this time to the boy lost in time, "that man is who you became in this world. That is the man we lost."
Alma's sins are besides the point.
"He looks cool, huh?"
Looking at the older Jiro now, Alma smiles broadly, moist-eyed.
This experience was rather stunning. Mimiru was wary of the voice, if not a bit frightened by it. It was definately not natural and she was not used to such phenomena. She glances around nervously, staying near the others, her skin a few shades paler than before.
She recognizes the young boy. Some parts of Jiro's past she knew, some others she couldn't even fathom. Mimiru listens to both Jiro, a glitter of hope that she might learn to understand her brother some more in all of this.
Mimiru glances up at the older Jiro, her hands slowly sliding into the pockets of her jacket. She's speechless for now and just watches the events unfold.
Frei's answer - less the vagueness of it but more the tone in which it is offered, brings some ease to the uncertain worry she feels about the nature of his arrival. She won't press for further explanation, with what they are now all witness to. Frei might have closer guesses as to what is going on than she can manage.
She never saw Jiro in the uniform the figure appears before them in now. The end of the war on Southtown was a branching point for many of them. While some became part of a larger effort to save the world from figthers gone wrong, she had turned inward, focusing on her school, her dojo, her slowly growing class of students, rarely appearing in fighting events after that time.
But even behind the mask, she knows who they're seeing now, but not from /when/. Does he know what happened to him? Of his death? Is this a visitation from before then or after? How is all this happening? It's beyond her ability to reason through it, so she stops trying.
He looks official, to say the least. Memories of the times his path in life took him to the police academy in Metro, the pride he felt at advancing through the courses to become an officer. Was that just a precursor for what he was to become?
Alma speaks before she finds words to utter herself, glancing between the younger and older personages of the same individual from two entirely different points in his existence. Here she can see where he started, how he grow, and what he became.
"Jiro, I-" she shakes her head slowly, "When I learned what had happened..." She frowns a little, glancing toward the youngest figure of the man she knows in the courtyard of the past. "The most painful thought was that you were all alone when it-" She cuts herself off, swallowing the rest of her words to look him square on then.
"I'm glad to see you now... I do wish it didn't take an apocalypse for it to happen though." she manages with a soft smile, her determination to not be crushed by the worst calamity of them all - despair - remains strong.
The idea that Jiro had died alone makes Frei grimace. Despite all the time that's passed, the memory of that moment is still fresh. That uniform included a radio communicator, one that mysteriously worked when much of such tech carried into Taizhou did not. Frei remembers hearing Jiro's final words, echoing Alma's sentiment that the person Jiro became in Einherjar -- the codename 'Ullr' after the Norse god of hunting -- wasn't precisely the person anyone gathered here would have remembered.
'This is Ullr -- no, Jiro Kasagi -- signing off.'
It was those words that both haunted and reassured Frei at the same time. They were proof that Jiro had 'come back to his senses,' and that the action he had taken, he had chosen of his own free will. The sad part, of course, is that just as he re-awakened to his self, that life was snuffed out. And perhaps it bothered Frei that in the end he was unable to protect his friend.
'He looks cool, huh?'
That brings a smile to his face. He says nothing, beyond that, though it's clear that he's biting down on something. Those gathered may be able to guess: he's trying not to apologize. What good would that do?
The Stray Dog stares right at the figure before him. The young boy is rather speechless. His muscles slacken and his hands shiver. He is trying to figure out how to respond to the presence before him. His attention turns towards Rust briefly, and then he surveys the reactions from Alma to Hotaru.
... This is him? This is who he becomes?
Meanwhile, the figure is finally starting to glance over towards the group. It is then that he finally starts to undo the helmet, then he hangs it underneath his arm.
It reveals to be a blond-haired young man within his early twenties. A bright smile forms on his face as he looks over everyone. His spirit looks vibrant and he feels lively. His demeanor soon takes a more gentle look upon everyone. With the helmet removed, he no longer has the need to hide his voice.
"It's been a long time, everyone."
The figure makes his way to get a good look at everyone. The strange man, Rust, who he never met before. However, there is a great debt that is owed to the man for a few reasons that he is aware of. "We have not met, but... I owe you my gratitude."
A glance is given towards Frei, who too seems to have manifested in a weird way. "... I am glad to see that you were able to show up, Frei. It would not have been the same without you."
After a moment, a glance is given towards the helmet before he tosses it aside.
There is no more of a need for it.
His attention soon focuses on Alma, giving a faint smile. "Alma..." There is a mirthful twinkle in his eye. To finally see his friend age, "You've aged well." A smile grows, then he turns towards Mimiru. Those precious moments of seeing his little sister all grown up. It soon becomes a sad smile.
"I am sorry to have left you the way that I did, Mimiru."
His eyes drift towards Hotaru, the smile cannot help but grow. To see the woman that he lived yet could not be close to in those moments whne he was framed. It would have made him happy to actually marry her and... -- but that is something that would not be. Instead, he tilts his head over and he smiles.
"I wasn't alone... not at the time. I had all of you with me. ... In my fight protecting one of the fighters, I drew upon each of you to give me the strength to continue fighting. ... Fighting until I bought the kid enough time." A smile grows, "All of you were with me in spirit until the very end. All of my memories, good and bad, have shaped me."
"... I am here. I called you all... because I wanted to see you one last time in the midst of this chaos. ...Never got to say goodbye, leaving everyone with a rift inside of them."
Howard appears as dumbstruck as Jiro does when he looks at him, other than at least the acknowledgement that he is looking at someone's life again, just like back with that mysterious young woman who'd keep showing up at some very interesting times in his life. Even so, he tries to maintain a semblance of composure over matters of gratitude - he's right that they haven't met, otherwise - even with the shock that he's looking at the same man, who should be dead, at the age of his passing.
Having all of them here, in the young man's heart, when he fought to his bloody end, from what he had been told and pieced together when he had the rare opportunity to sit back and do so. His posture slumps slightly at mention about seeing someone one last time... you know, that is something most people never really get to do. They can never get to choose when they die, when they pass, or what things will forever go unanswered or unfinished because of it.
The coffee-bearing man respectfully holds his silence for those who got to know this young man to express themselves, knowing that this moment may not last for as long as anyone would like, as he instead steps closer to the younger Jiro he is more familiar with, and tries to rest a hand on his shoulder in something approaching an attempt to keep him reassured.
Alma, like Frei, is visibly troubled by the painful truth Hotaru speaks. Ullr died alone, and even his existence was one cut off from the person he had been. He instinctively looks toward the red-haired sage and witnesses the same struggle. At that, Alma smiles again a little himself. Both of them are determined not to apologize today.
Surely their Jiro didn't return to hear that.
"You know me," Alma replies to his old friend, tone lighter than it has been in some time. "I never change." This is false, of course, if only evidenced by his scars. After Jiro's death and in the intervening years, Alma has changed quite a bit, and he has struggled with his transforming role in this world. But he speaks from the heart. In this moment, standing amongst his close friends (and a good man with a pot of lukewarm coffee), it feels as though nothing has changed.
That lightness of spirit is what allows him to maintain his composure as Jiro speaks of his final moments, telling them at last what they could have never known. It is good that Rust moves to care for the younger Jiro. Alma cannot help but have his thoughts filled of the memories of this one, of the suffering and tragedy that they all fought so hard to make meaning from, and which had nevertheless in some ways torn them apart.
Unthinkingly, mirroring Rust's movements, Alma lifts his hand and places it gently on Mimiru's shoulder.
"Jiro--"
What can he say now? Will they meet again? When this world ends, will they die and join Jiro in some heavenly realm? Does he deserve such a fate after all his failures? Or will this be the last they see of each other, a final goodbye?
"You are my best friend. I could have dreamed of none better."
What words can carry these feelings?
"I love you. I always have, and I always will."
And he smiles beautifically, then, and says without a trace of irony:
"Until the end of time."
Mimiru closes her eyes and she turns on her heels so she doesn. Ghosts from the past constantly coming back to haunt her, to reopen old wounds that had never been able to heal completly. Her brother's reincarnation in his younger self had been a curse at first, and then a blessing... A second chance to be with him more, after so many years with a gapping hole in her heart.
Though deep thought, Mimiru had a feeling it was ephemeral. It was not meant to last, and this felt like it was the end. "... I'm the only one to blame for the decisions I've made, Jiro," She tries to sound convincing, but she knows a part of her, deep down, had always felt resentment and anger toward her brother.
Alma's touch on her shoulder makes her jerk up a bit. She spares a quick glance to Alma, then back to Jiro. His confessions and words were touching and heart felt, but to Mimiru, it made her feel a pang. Mimiru lowers her gaze as this tingling feeling courses through her. It was bitter jealousy, not only toward Alma, but also Hotaru and Frei.
A simple quick glance over the others force Mimiru to repress her those feelings. She manages a half-hearted smile on her lips, her shoulders hanging a bit low.
She lifts her gaze up toward Jiro. The realization that she sees him probably for the last time, that he's here to say a final goodbye to them fills her with regrets. All sort of 'should have' crossing her mind. His time was numbered, and it was too late to change anything.
Just a cruel reminder for her of how things were, and how they've never been. She lifts her hand up to wipe tears from her eyes, but she smiles at her brother. After Alma's words, there was nothing else to say other than, "We've all always loved you, Jiro..."
Hotaru waits quietly. The oldest Jiro's response to her spoken worry does bring a smile to her lips, soothing an ache long harbored concerning the circumstances of his demise. So this is Jiro from beyond that time then. His spirit? Soul? It doesn't matter. He provides more context - of course he died saving another. That would very much be his nature. She can't be angry that that is how he fell...
A hand lifts up to her right eye, finger sliding there, before she lowers it, clasping her hands together again. "I'm glad to know that now." she answers.
She hangs back by Frei as Alma moves forward, his words strong and powerful - just like always, she thinks to herself, reminded of how her connection to both of them carried her through a difficult time in her life, trying to find her way in a world that had only shown her constant abandonment.
The young man's sister moves up, the gesture between her and Alma not missed by the observant Futaba. "Nn," she nods as Mimiru speaks. What to say in a situation like this? What to do? Visits from the beyond aren't something anyone gets to develop life skills to handle, so there isn't exactly experience to fall back on.
"You helped me grow into the person I became and -" a pause for a heartbeat. She struggled to come so far from where she started, orphaned, only a few had any faith in her ability to overcome the magnitude of her challenges.
A confident smile grows then, none of the reservation of moments before. "And I think I turned out all right." A nod of her head then, the girl clasping her hands. She has no regrets. She had found peace in her teaching, pride in her accomplishments in the world of combative sports, and strength in the friendships forged past and present. But it all started with a few who gave her that chance, she considers, glancing at Frei, Alma, and Jiro. "So thank you." She glances away for a moment in thought.
"I don't really know what is going to happen, but..." She focuses at Alma more directly then, "I have no regrets." She doesn't see that to be true in him, however. She wishes she could find that same peace in his visage. Another look to Frei - there is a mysterious strength in the red-head's demeanor in spite all that has happened. Where does he find it?
'What useless thing could come of love?' Seishirou had asked Frei, shortly before he died. 'You cannot love something that doesn't exist.'
The sage's response had been: 'Love creates miracles. Love is a bond that cannot be broken. You can't be erased as long as someone loved you. Real love is unconditional and eternal.'
They were a fitting epitaph and, more to the point, the scene that unfolds before him now is proof -- embodied in Jiro -- that he was right. It seems as if the world had it out for Jiro. No, that's not true... it seems as if the world has had it out for EVERYONE in this room. The orphan abandoned by her family and left to her own devices. The man with the unusual power who felt the burden of so many hearts. The brother and sister trying to find their way in the world. The man struggling against his own doubts and fears to find the strength of a hero within. The drifter without a purpose who found it in protecting and teaching others. Those are bonds that cannot be broken, cannot be shattered. No matter what happened to *individual people*, they always had each other in some way.
When Alma says 'until the end of time', he probably means it.
"You're... proof, Jiro, to me," Frei says, finally, trying to find the words and failing for the most part. The usually articulate, occasionally too-verbose redhead seems bizarrely stuck for how to express himself, but there is still an expression of hope in those green eyes. "I mean, proof that... well. I don't..." He pauses, then shakes his head.
"This isn't the end. Something like what we have here, it endures. We'll find a way."
Young Jiro, who has not reached adulthood, is staring in complete shock over seeing his older form. This is the older man who would find himself killed in the end. Seeing the look on everyone's faces as they finally see his future form...
It is a painful reminder that he does not belong in this time. There is the small comfort of Rust appearing by his side. He felt the man's hand on his shoulder. There is a faint smile given towards the older man. Through his time, he got to know Rust well. In the end, it makes Jiro wish that he got to know the older man a lot more. In that regards, Rust is given a smile.
However... the more he looks at the Older Jiro....
... Why does he feel that rage seeping through? His teeth grits and his fists tighten.
The Jiro That Once Was stares over towards Alma with a curious look on his face. His expression becomes more mirthful as the older man tries to figure out his own words. His eyes soon close and he looks more... at peace.
"I love you too, Alma."
The Remains of Einherjar approaches the older man and he leans against the figure in a hug. With the closeness of Alma nearby, this allows him to look at Mimiru, who is now an older girl. "I wanted to see you grow up. I knew that deep down, you would likely surpass me." He grins a bit, "I was always afraid of that, being the older one. However, I welcome that now."
A hand moves towards the older girl's head.
"You've made me happy. I know I was never the best big brother, but... I am glad, in the end, that you have started to rebuild." The older young man reaches over to pull Mimiru in a hug. As he seeks to hold her so close to him, he tightens the embrace around his sister. It is one that he never got a chance to do. "By the way..."
He does, however, take a moment to whisper in Alma's ear.
'... I know what you did to my little sister. Punkass.'
A smile remains. This time, it's a bit of a crossed look at Alma.
His gaze falls towards Hotaru, tilting his head over with a smile, pulling away from his little sister.
"Hotaru." A smile grows, "I am glad..." He offers her a faint smile, "... In truth, I had dreamed that eventually, we could have gotten married and raised a family of our own." A brighter smile forms with eyes-closed. "...Would had been a better father than... my own." A laugh is faint and there is a sadden look.
In that moment, Jiro turns to face Frei. The one who was once known as Ullr moves towards Frei.
And then he leans in to give the wandering monk that warm embrace. "...We've been through a lot, Frei. I have faith that you guys will endure it all." A smile grows, "..We all have perserverence."
Jiro's smile is met with the enduring patience of a man who barely seems to be able to keep much of anything together, always seeming to be teetering on the very edge of a complete physical and emotional collapse in spite of his accomplishments.
He is probably among the first to notice when something's wrong, when Jiro starts appearing to grow more... upset?
"What's wrong?" He mouths quietly to the younger Jiro as a question as he stretches out one of his legs to work out a kink developing in his knee for having stood still so long. His body just wants to lock up, rest, fall asleep, and maybe not get back up for a good three or four months.
"What's, what's goin' on," he finally contributes to the proper conversation... he just shakes his head, which suggests the precursor to something defeatist and pessimistic. He looks the part. He takes the coffee pot away from behind his back, now reassured that it's not about to be part of some otherworldly last request to help someone or something pass on.
"Things're... things're never gonna be the same," which is sort of a trite saying in the wake of every world-shaking event, but this time there really isn't any going back on the widescale ecological, economic, political devastation that these disasters have wrought. The world is changing, and maybe not for the better. These are scars that will last a long, long time, of things that will never quite be able to be fully rebuilt...
The aging man, something of the odd man out in a lot of ways, stands up a bit straighter once he's done stretching out his legs. "If, if it's in anyone's... power, though, this... this ain't gonna be how it ends."
Beat.
"By, uh, which I mean, the... the whole, uh... hurricanes... and volcanoes... and... y-you get what I mean," he coughs twice, "'scuse me."
Alma listens quietly as his friends voice their thoughts and feelings. It is different for each of them, and easy for none. Some of them are truly at peace with themselves; some still struggle with dark emotions yet unresolved. But in this moment, in the presence of their dear friend, they can come together in common gratitude.
His eyes softens as he regards Mimiru as she falls into silence, squeezing her shoulder faintly and leaving his hand where it is before shifting his gaze to Hotaru. When he sees her sincerity, the haunting sentiments that have surfaced in the presence of the brother he's lost disperse, no longer compelling him to repress his anguish. As the load of the past is lifted from him, Alma smiles spontaneously, touched by the peace in Hotaru's eyes. However imperfect, they created something beautiful together, striving for a noble ideal.
It wouldn't do to belittle it, even in silence.
Just as he draws on Hotaru's faith in herself, so does he find himself inspired by Frei's faith in the future. That the eloquent monk stumbles in his words makes him all the more persuasive. Alma was not sure whether this would be their last gathering, but when Frei speaks, he somehow feels his doubts fade. When Rust speaks in the same vein, Alma, all shame banished, nods to him. "Yes," he adds quietly. "We'll find a way. After all--"
'I won't forget.'
"I promised," he finishes, voice low but eyes clear.
In the presence of his friends, Alma's conviction, famously considerable, becomes complete. He breathes deep of otherworldly mist, and smiles once more, his composure unflinching and--
"Geh!"
Wide-eyed, Alma abruptly appears as though someone has stabbed him in the back, but he remains silent despite his odd grunt. He stares at nothing for several long moments, seemingly oblivious to all else around him, with the distinctive expression of someone completely unable to process what he's just heard.
"Saying what /I/ did," he mumbles, "probably gives me too much credit..."
Ah, he's blushing.
Hotaru becomes lost in thought as Frei speaks about proof. The look on her face shifts through emotions, first uncertainty about what the monk is saying and then a flash of realization. Of course - that this is happening. That Frei is here, that Jiro is here, not just once, but multiple times. It has to mean something. She's looking at Frei intently as he speaks, starting to nod along slowly. Yes, that's right.
"You're right." She had never thought about it that way - the eternal nature of their ties. They have to mean something. They have to have power. "Thank you," she murmurs. Alma picks up on his word and continues the sentiment, and the blue eyed girl gives him the same nod of certainty. Yes, Frei has to be right. There is more that binds them together than can be defined by science or medicine. That Frei stands here and Jiro can speak to them from beyond the veil is proof that there is so much more she doesn't understand. And right now, she doesn't really /want/ to understand - her heart is content to take it on faith and this brief glimpse at the impossible.
Jiro moves closer to Alma and Mimiru, the trio sharing a heartfelt exchange - not of friends, but of family, and Hotaru closes her eyes, bowing her head, respecting a moment of privacy for them, but also realizing that were she to watch with her own eyes, her composure may very well be overcome.
But when her name is spoken, she glances up, eyes wide open, meeting his faint smile with a quiet, warm one of her own - a smile that only grows more defined as he voices the future he once hoped for to the point that it becomes just shy of a grin.
"I know."
She was not oblivious to his hopes. Their time together, their shared discussions, shared trials, and shared competition, challenging each other to do better in their pursuits as fighters. The sparkle in her eye and the verbal rejoinder is the answer he'll get for now. Though when he speaks about the father he would have been, her expression becomes more sober, her head nodding once slowly in tacit agreement. But he speaks of a future that never was, a path closed off.
But then there is Alma's reaction to Jiro's declaration and Hotaru can't help but giggle lightly in spite the solemnity of the circumstances, hand lifting to cover her mouth. A soft shake of the head and then a glance cast toward Frei. She doesn't know how long this impossible visit can last, so she makes sure to not leave thoughts unspoken. "Thank you..." she voices to Frei before glancing back toward Alma and Jiro, "In my darkest times, you pulled me out - helped me when I could not save myself."
She closes her eyes and bows her head, hands clasped together in front of her, "Whatever gave us this chance - " Fate? Love? " - let me use it to say, my debt to you is eternal, as is my love for you, my family."
Only then does she stand up straight and open her eyes, glancing at each of her family in turn, noticing Rust has moved over to take closer care of the younger manifestation of their dear friend, head canting to the side slightly. Is something wrong...?
The former agent smiles at Alma, Mimiru, and Hotaru. Once the members of his friends have once gather together again, Jiro tilts his head over. The older man gives off a grin at Hotaru.
Overall, Jiro said his peace. He wanted to wish everyone a farewell. Those who he had never gotten a chance to give his closure.
"...I want to thank you all for giving me the chance to say goodbye. The only regret that I had was never having the closure." His eyes drift towards Rust, who reminds them of the current situation. A faint smile is growing, "...Thank you, for taking care of the past me since his time here."
That boiling rage has reached its point.
Young Jiro has had enough.
"...It's nice... to feel wanted." The Stray Dog finally starts to speak. However, his voice is not quite speaking out to Rust, per se. However, the voice is low enough for Rust can hear him. The Stray Dog is now taking several steps forward.
The younger boy finally loses it.
"It's nice... to be in a time that is yours... where everything is familiar to you." His eyes narrow straight towards his older form, no longer focused on Rust or anyone. "This reunion is nice and all, but..."
"I want answers from /you/." He extends an index finger at the older form. The stance becomes more aggressive. In fact, those black flames are threatening to manifest before him.
"Why was I brought here?! What exactly was I supposed to do here?! Why did /I/ have to be taken out of a place where everything was familiar to me?!" This time, the wretched black flames roar to life as his hatred is now manifesting.
Weary as he is, stretched to the absolute limit of what he might be able to take, the aging man effectively off to the sidelines for the reunion as something of an unofficial chaperone to the younger, displaced Jiro who is largely inoffensive to the goings-on aside from this particularly strange situation with him carrying a coffee pot and being lured into Gedo High initially under his self-defined pretense or idea of there being more coffee runs involved.
Everyone's getting to say goodbye where it wasn't possible before - something that could only have been done the way the world has turned. Perhaps in this respect, Saiki - whatever that name represents, or whoever it belongs to - might be owed some very tiny measure of grudging respect, buried in the horror of what the machinations of his mysterious coalition of barely human (if at all) supermen of unimaginable power. He does feel that he might even be an intruder in this moment, not wanting to overstep his boundaries as confidence and peace are professed...
"I, I couldn't hear that, could you," Howard blubbers out as Jiro mutters something and walks away from him. The pipe-wielding Kyokugen black-belt (and now, as of like an hour ago, official perpetrator of breaking and entering and, uh, probably a charge of larceny higher than petty given how expensive this coffee is) follows in seeming confusion as the younger Jiro steps forth to...
Vent.
"Jiro, wait, Jiro-- no," it's hard to say his gravelly, tired voice is forceful by any means, but there's no mistaking the gesture as his free hand comes down upon Jiro's fist as the black flames erupt. It's not rare to see more advanced martial artists occasionally snuff out chi manifestations just by applying the right pressure on a given striking body part - they have often worked so meticulously with chi itself that even if they aren't quite skilled manipulators themselves in external terms, they have that built up... resistance. That aura, it is sometimes called.
Immediately, those black flames consume the glove on Howard's hand - it's a garishly colored glove of neon green and frankly something like that deserves to be burnt - and his hand leaps upward with a cringing expression as he nearly spills the coffee putting it down to smother that burning hand with his back turned to the rest of the crowd, a foul black smoke rising from underneath the other, currently-gloved hand.
This should probably put into perspective the magnitude of Jiro's fury, right then and there, to make some guy like him recoil and flinch, as he utters a series of largely forgettable exclamations of surprise and pain.
Well this went wrong in a hurry.
Before the younger Jiro breaks away from Rust, Frei is giving Hotaru a sort of wan smile, genuinely flattered/pleased by what she said, even to the pointof embarassment. "There's never a debt for something freely given," he says, before rubbing the back of his head and adding, "Besides... even if there was, you've repaid it to us tenfold any... way..."
Oh, something is up. He can feel it in the room, and then young!Jiro makes those feelings manifest (kind of literally) in the form of black flame. Considering his proximity to Hotaru, that sight brings a memory into sharp, SHARP relief: facing off with Hotaru and Jiro against an enraged Kain Heinlein, a fight that none of the three escaped unscathed. Those were... let's say they're not happy times.
But what he demands of his older self? That's... actually a legitimate question. And so while the effort not to intervene shows in his expression, the sage decides not to. Maybe this needs to play itself out. When else could it possibly happen?
Alma, still flummoxed, glances over helplessly at Hotaru's laughter, utterly at a loss. But his gaze remains upon her as she speaks, and soon the moment passes, moved again by her sincerity, her words weighted by the trials she has overcome. Indeed, they are family; the years have made them so.
Surely, without question, their bonds will endure.
Alma simply lowers his head in heartfelt recognition. Hotaru has spoken the whole of the truth. It is only when Rust cries out, an assuredly rare sound, that Alma looks up sharply and senses at last the nature of the power emanating from Jiro. For a moment his eyes narrow, instinctively reacting to an aura he has not felt in a very long time, the flame of unbridled rage that consumes others as it consumes oneself.
"Jiro..."
But in mere moments, his eyes have softened, seeming to come to a similar conclusion as Frei. What would he do, protect the older Jiro from his younger self? Defend the dead against the forsaken living? There have been answers here for all of them but one. The tremendous struggles that the older Jiro endured to master those flames cannot be bound into a single lesson. There are no words Alma can speak that will solve the boy's dilemma. Only as a consistent presence throughout Jiro's life did Alma offer support, and in the end it was Jiro's own will that triumphed. He cannot play the savior here.
"Perhaps you have come to learn what your older self can teach you."
Alma's gentle words emerge from behind Jiro, unaffected by his fury.
"Perhaps, as we face a perilous future--"
Offering no final answer, but faith.
"You will obtain the power to change the past."
As the flames erupt and Rust finds himself in the lashing from the boy's rage, Jiro no longer shows concern for the older friend. If anything, the others that are now within his vicinity are no longer regarded.
His entire focus is directed towards the future form of himself.
"Hahaa.... Ahahahahahahahahahahahhahaa!"
He places a hand over towards his forehead as he directs his gaze at Alma. An eyebrow is raised as the expression becomes embittered. As if swallowing a very bitter pill, his face forms into a scowl.
"...Learn from my older self?! I will learn alright. I will learn why I am here and how to get back to my time! However, I do not need my future's help in controlling my powers!"
It looks to be that the younger Jiro is starting to become consumed with his despair. The expression becomes more lost. His expression becomes more wild-like. Those usual blue eyes become green slits and his fangs show.
"Hahahaha... What a joke!"
The Stray Dog looks at his older self, who does not offer too much of a response. In fact, the older Jiro is about to say something until...
The younger Jiro immediately rushes towards the older Jiro. His entire body set ablaze with the black flames, the Stray Dog is driving himself forward....
Becoming the Beast of the Wild Flames.
As the younger boy rushes towards the older form..
That anomaly, a broken rift appears right behind the older form. And the two...
Disappear into that gate.
"Ghdlgdshlkf," quoth the Rust, ghdlgdshlkfmore, violently shaking out the put-out hand. The glove burnt away, it reveals some nasty burn scars (older ones) along with a nasty laceration that goes across the palm and down a ways into the wrist - a highly grievous injury from five years ago, looking back over his shoulder just in time to watch the madness of the younger Jiro go haywire.
"Ah, shit," Rust curses as he dares to reach out with that same hand again, just missing the grab as the young Stray Dog all but hurls himself into the older shadow of a Jiro whose life was cut far too soon, he moves with a speed and urgency that absolutely belies the slow, sluggish gait he's put on. (And also that knee that's popping and protesting at being flexed so quickly.)
"Jiro!" He makes another grab for him, as the broken rift swallows both Jiros (Jiroes? Jiroii?) whole, casting panicked and possibly dirty, unhappy glances at Frei and Alma whom both seemed to profess at first the idea of letting this play out. Both his hands clench the horrible toupee on his head (now that one of them is bare it's even more horrifying to think about why he's willingly touching it) as he hisses, exhales loudly, posture slumping...
"He, he confided in me that, that he had trouble with, uh... that," he sums it up as 'that' to save on the valuable and scarce Rust Saying Things With Lots Of Syllables Clearly Budget, looking back over to the rest of them once more with a look that doesn't quite match that of a responsible adult that has a clear hold on things, because...
Who does?
His dialogue from that point mostly consists of further nonsensical mumbling as though grasping for ideas on what the hell they're going to do next.
It was perhaps nearly an hour. It was difficult to say.
There is only an empty void that exists within the world. What exists in this place is neither life or death. There is neither dark nor light. It is the essence of emptiness. It is a void that feels like the very end of the world. It feels like a presence where all things come to a halt.
This... is the End of Time.
It was supposed to be a joyous reunion. Gedo High was visited with a wandering memory, taking one last look of the school while calling everyone. Everyone was called from their respective positions to meet with that individual.
Who they met was a man in his twenties in a black futuristic suit. Former Einherjar member Ullr, or Jiro Kasagi. He was a man that was once the boy who suffered many problems but grew past them and became a better person. In the end, he died a hero.
This hero gathered everyone before him to say things that he never got to say. The Memories of Jiro Kasagi wanted to put everyone's hearts at ease despite of the world ending. It was a ghost who wanted closure.
... And he got that closure.
However, one figure was left unsatisfied. Why was he called? Why did he not get the answers that he wanted? How did this Jiro Kasagi find a way to make himself better and overcome the darkness? Why was it that the Memories got to have a reunion while the younger form was displaced to never see anyone who he knew? Why was his heart left so unfulfilled? What is there for him? Is there a place for him? Is he even relevant anymore? What is the point?
Despairdespairdespairdespairdespairdespairdespairdespairdespairdespairdespairdespair.
A guttal growl erupts from the End of Time.
The Stray Dog... no. He is no longer called that. This young man was no longer the young man that he was. He stood at the very center of it all, clutching against his face while a wreath of black flames erupted along his body. The guttal growl stirs from the boy as the hatred consumed him like a furnace.
He has given into his despair.
As the black flames dances around his body, he is hunched over while gazing at the ground.
"Hahahaa..." Jiro places a hand across his forehead, feeling that nauseating feeling overtake him. All of it. His entire placement. All a joke.
"Aahahahhahahahahahahahahahahahha! ... What a fucking joke! What a joke what a joke what a joke what a joke WHAT A JOKE!"
Flames erupt around him before he grits his teeth, his eyes lifting up. "...I'll rip you apart."
An older, wiser, and stronger Jiro looks back at the younger one falling to his rage, letting the despair take over. He recognizes himself, of course -- it is looking into a mirror of a past long buried. He recognizes the tendencies. And he also knows... there is only one way to put an end to the despair. To quell the suffering.
An older, wiser Jiro sees himself... and chuckles softly, tightening his gloves. It's an action that would only serve to enrage his younger counterpart more -- and he knows this. "Give into your rage, then, and rip me apart. It serves no more purpose now than it did then... and I'll show you just how meaningless the rage can be." Confident. Controlled. Better.
All the things that should make the younger aspect hit him even harder.
COMBATSYS: Vuong has started a fight here.
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Vuong 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Jiro has joined the fight here.
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////////////]
Jiro 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Vuong
COMBATSYS: Vuong focuses on his next action.
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////////////]
Jiro 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Vuong
Flames erupting around the young man, he gives out that guttal growl that soon becomes a roar of anguish. As the despair finally consumes him, he finally takes a more aggressive stance. One leg takes a lean forward and the body leans forward. His hand grips forward while another hand hangs back. His hair become like a mane as he gives that maniacal grin. The blue eyes taken the look of the green slits, the feral, beastly nature taking over.
This is the Beast of the Wild Flames.
With that ferocity backing him up, the younger Jiro is rushing towards his older form, sprinting as fast as he can to get up close and personal.
He lunges forward, extending his right hand out to release a swing of his arm. That arm is releasing a trail of energy that is similar to a monstrous claw as he swipes at the older form.
"Looking at you makes me sick!"
Those words that Kain left behind.
~ "Oh? Well, maybe you're not completely hopeless after all. That'll be for your friends to find out though, I suppose. And probably to their dismay." ~
COMBATSYS: Vuong counters Medium Punch from Jiro with Helldrive.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///////////////////////////// ]
Jiro 0/-------/----===|=------\-------\0 Vuong
Contrary to the Beast of the Wild Flames... this is the man once known as Ullr. It's easier for him to look back at his older self, and even chuckle -- and he does. "Still falling prey to the same old traps..." he chides, stepping inside the blow, and confidently raising his armored gauntlet up to catch the arm from the inside, as the energy trail continues on past him, unperturbed.
"Don't you see?" asks the older Jiro, as he suddenly surges forward, slamming his head into the younger Jiro's sternum. Still maintaining that grip on his younger self's arm, he continues leaning forward as he launches himself up into the air -- and then slams his body down in a powerbomb. If that were it, the wrestling maneuver itself would hurt quite a bit -- but to add injury to insult, the powerbomb is accompanied by a gout of crimson flames.
Leaping back, he cracks his knuckles. "I know your playbook. I =wrote= your playbook -- and it died off with those sickly black flames." He clenches his fist into a blossom of those same crimson flames, as if to remove any further doubt of what replaced them.
The Beast of the Wild Flames lunges towards the older Jiro, seeking to sweep that claw out to rend against the older form. The intention was to draw the first blood and to mark the beginning of the end.
... It was not meant to be.
The arm was caught with ease. The older form before him not only catches his arm with that gauntlet, but chides him. The sneer forms on the younger form's face. However... as the face closes in, the impact is enough to send his head ringing. The sternum is struck as the older form knocks him back with the headbutt. It disorients him enough to get him lifted into the air.
And slammed down towards the ground. The force sends the void shuddering violently and the scarlet flames consume him. His eyes widen dumbfoundedly before he sees those scarlet flames before him.
...A growl forms.
"...Shut up, shut up, shut up!" He lunges straight up, then he lunges forward towards Jiro. This time, as the hand sweeps across the ground, his clawed hand creates a rumble within the void to where a force of nature erupts with black flames.
Those black flames seek to tear against the older Jiro as a sparking shockwave.
COMBATSYS: Jiro successfully hits Vuong with Ruptured Earth.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////////////// ]
Jiro 0/-------/----===|=====--\-------\0 Vuong
Jiro's older counterpart just shrugs faintly. The growl... only forces the elder Jiro to calm down even more. It's so much easier to step outside oneself when oneself is literally a step outside of... you know what, let's just move on.
"Suit yourself, then!" he laughs, raising his gauntlets once more as he hurls his arms forward into the attack, with every intention of asserting his finesse over the unpolished gem of his yesteryear.
However, it seems that one of the Stray Dog's strengths is, in fact, his unrefined nature -- and it's not something that can easily be blocked by a single upraised arm. Smacked sideways from the hand, the elder Jiro is consumed in black flame... which, mind you, is -really- hard to see in the midst of an inky black void when wearing black. If it weren't for the silver lining...
Staggering to one knee, the elder Jiro smirks back in response. "Fine, I'll grant you that one. I may be smarter, but you're still pretty fucking fast when you put your mind to it."
But far from being deterred -- the elder Jiro launches himself into the air. With a quick adjustment in mid-air, he twists about, and then rockets his fist downwards, aiming a crimson-wreathed hook right for his younger alter-ego's face! "EAT THIS!"
COMBATSYS: Jiro Toughs Out Vuong's Burning Hell!
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///////////////////// ]
Jiro 1/-------/=======|=======\-------\0 Vuong
Rage. Destruction. Ruin.
All of those desires linger in the Beast of the Wild Flames. The boy who was once known as the Stray Dog has become something monsterous. One that cannot be looked at. One that is suffering. One that cannot come out of his own rage.
As the eruption of the beast releases those black flames, it hits home as much as the Beast wanted it to. Jiro is knocked on a knee, acknowledging his strength. His eyes remain lost, gazing out into the darkness.
When the older Jiro launches into the air, the feral boy springs off of the ground to join his older form in the air. The fist is rocketed straight downward, the flames scorch against the face. Those crimson flames strike against his form and nearly forces his head to twist over.
...Until his head twists to face the older form. That feral eye widens and flicks as the slit focuses on the older form.
Kain's words ring in his mind once more...
~ "You know what they say about gazing too long into the abyss. I'm sure you wouldn't want to become a horrible person like me." ~
A growl forms as the Beast forces his body to descend straight towards the ground. With a heavy landing within the abyss, the black flames wreath against his form like a coiling serpent.
"Raaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagggggggghhhhhhh!!!"
The flames erupt around him like an inferno as a hand winds back. And then, when he finishes casting back, he brings his arm forth like a wrecking ball. This triggers a thunderous explosion to erupt as he brings the chi outward.
The black flames form into a massive maw of a beast, threatening to envelop the Memory.
"YOU WILL BE NOTHING MORE THAN A MEMORY!"
"HEY!" A voice calls from... somewhere. Above? Below? In front? Somewhere, is all that matters, here at the very End of Time itself.
It's a tired, gravelly male voice. There's only one man from the group in which this descriptor is apt.
Back in Gedo, one Howard Rust is screaming into the portal the two disappeared into, hands on the edges as though tears in reality were safe handles to place hands against.
"Jiro!" He calls out. "Jiro! Can you.. can you both, ah, hear us? Jiro? Can't, can't see shit from up here--"
Annoying coughs echo through the End of Time, coughs that halt anything else he might have to say here... but that was definitely one Howard Rust's voice. Is it too late to reach any of them, wherever they might have went?
COMBATSYS: Vuong blocks Jiro's Beast of the Wild Flames.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///////////////// ]
Jiro 0/-------/-----==|=======\=------\1 Vuong
When the older Jiro took flight, he had anticipated some retaliation from the younger. But leaping into the air was not exactly what he had in mind. Years of experience has given him the means to deal with such things on the fly, however, and as it was a waste to discard an attack so fully committed, it only made sense to follow through with the punch. But to see his younger self snap back with all the ferocity of a stray dog...
It was frightening, to say the least. For a moment. The cooler head prevails: as crimson flames wash along the lengths of his gauntlets, the elder Jiro raises his arms in defense. The outpouring of crimson chi is enough to take the teeth off the black maw, without completely neutralizing the attack -- but it is enough such that the elder Jiro can meaningfully brace for impact.
Though it might be heard, even as the jaws close, that the elder Jiro utters through clenched teeth, "... Nnrgh. Be -right- with you..."
Nothing more than a memory, the younger had said. Curious words, from a memory given a second chance at life.
As the pair falls back to the ground, the inky jet-black mass of chi is suddenly and violently dispelled -- with a shout of "THAT'S /MY/ LINE, BITCH!" The suggestion being, that clearly, two can play that game.
It becomes a bit easier to see the two Jiros at this point, as the crimson flames overpower the black, a whirling maelstrom of red and orange.
COMBATSYS: Jiro blocks Vuong's Indignation.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///////////////// ]
Jiro 0/-------/---====|=------\-------\0 Vuong
Black flames sought to devour the older version of himself. It sought to rend him, tear him apart, and devour him. However, it is that cooler head that manages to prevail against the onslaught of the Beast's devasating blow.
The Beast of the Wild Flames clutches his head, growling in his rage as the older form manages to survive. There is only anger. Hatred. Disappointment.
However, a blink is given.
A familiar voice?
In that moment, the younger form turns his head towards the gate.
At least, until he turns around to see the older form release the maelstrom of red and orange. The Beast of the Black Flames extends both hands out, expelling the black flames around him as the darkness erupts to life. Swirling around his body, he reaches to grasp the flames and then he squeezes them.
Tossing the flames aside, it is not without consequence. His body looks worn, leaving the pain to linger. He grits his teeth, growling in his rage before he rushes straight towards the older Jiro. Seeking to close the distance once more...
Both hands reach over to grab the older form by the throat.
Should he get the older form, he'll engulf his future in the black flames before seeking to throw him across the ground.
COMBATSYS: Jiro successfully hits Vuong with Extinction Embrace.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////// ]
Jiro 0/-------/-======|====---\-------\0 Vuong
"HEY!" There he is again. That voice. "You guys... c'mon back up here," it's almost pleading, but given the sleepiness and exhaustion in the man's voice, and his professed inability to truly see well past the portal itself - he's not sure he wants to throw himself all the way in - Howard keeps yelling.
"Your friends're worried... I, I don't got a minute, you guys don't... don't have a minute! You got... you got everyone worried suck here! Hotaru... Frei... Mimiru... Alma..."
Much more quietly, as he pulls his head back out in the real world. "Missin' anyone...?"
He turns his head back in. "D-Do we got to find a rope, or, or something?"
The elder Jiro grits his teeth as Jiro manages to snuff his flames through extended effort. Say what he will, the fact remains that his chi is still HIS CHI, the signature being the same regardless of whether it's colored red, black, or a green-black tartan.
But still -- to let such things bother him is really not the point here. The point is to let the younger Jiro realize exactly how =futile= this gesture is. "I see /I'm/ wearing thin. Maybe /I/ should stop trying to fight myself!" taunts the elder Jiro, knowing full well that such pacifying words, at face value, would only serve to infuriate the younger Jiro even more.
So what's the harm in -that-, anyway? So he gets the fight he always wanted and still loses... or maybe he wins. Again, the harm in that?
He throws up his hands as he sees the younger Jiro charging forward. "Bring it on, then!" And he finds himself grappled by the throat, immolated in those black flames of yesteryear, and raked across the ground. Bumped, bruised, scorched, and battered, he crawls back to his feet. Clearly, the harm isn't really an issue to the elder Jiro... and it probably isn't even a concern to the younger. The elder Jiro didn't summon everyone here to not-witness an epic battle between his two selves. He summoned everyone here as a farewell... one he might not get if this battle keeps waging on. Much though he might like to pound his younger self further and further into oblivion...
Rubbing his throat, he doesn't draw back to his full height, but rather stays hunched over, glaring at his younger self. "Look, that's enough, okay? You can end me... and what does that prove? /Nothing/, because you don't exist. Or you can let me end you... which proves /nothing/, because you weren't -meant- to exist. Now quit your goddamn bitching and get down there and do something right for a change!"
And just in case the boy still won't listen to reason... well, there's an app for that.
COMBATSYS: Vuong focuses on his next action.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////// ]
Jiro 0/-------/-======|====---\-------\0 Vuong
There is nothing but satisfaction of watching the elder Kasagi burn. Die. Burn. Rend. Ruin. Burn. Burnburnburnburnburn!
With the older Jiro goading him... the Beast of the Wild Flames gives off a sneer.
Don't exist? Not meant to exist?
Suddenly, flames erupt around the Beast of the Wild Flames as he screams.
Rust's words. ... Those times that Jiro had spent with Rust. The old man was the first person who Jiro met when he appeared in this strange world. He was the man that Jiro got to know. He was just a lost boy, displaced from knowing anyone. His world was turned upside down, but the old man was there to guide him.
Here he is, speaking out to him. He is trying to get him to awaken.
Everyone is worried.
The younger Jiro lowers his head, clutching against his head while he starts to find himself trapped in his own despair. He grits his teeth, clutching onto his head as he gives off a scream.
The black flames erupt around his form, scorching him.
"...Arggggghhhhh!"
He drops towards his knees, slamming his fist against the ground. Once. Twice. Over and over. He is trapped in his own anguish, only able to lash out at the ground instead of his original target: Himself.
COMBATSYS: Jiro takes no action.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////// ]
Jiro 0/-------/=======|====---\-------\0 Vuong
A minute ago both Jiro's were beating each other up. Now only one is beating himself up, while the other is contemplating beating him down because he's beating himself up over not fully being able to beat himself. Confusing!
"Goddammit, was I always this much of a fucking self-absorbed prick?" Spitting invective and cursing inappropriately seems to be the only way to really break through to himself, after all.
The elder Jiro just shakes his head. "Eh... hm." He glances over towards the sound of Rust's voice. "Hey, uh... where are you? Keep shouting at us so we can find you!" Elder Jiro begins walking towards the sound of the voice, but looks down to the younger Jiro, who seems to be injuring himself now, completely unassisted. "Asshole. You got the body, and we /both/ need it, so cut that shit out!"
He plants his hand on the shoulder of the younger Jiro, grimacing faintly -- squeezing sharply to keep him from dealing further injury to himself. "Is that really how you want folks to remember you?" He didn't die for his -own- sake, after all...
The elder flickers out first -- just for an instant before returning. Then the younger vanishes, again, just for an instant -- and the process continues, accelerating. The two are never in the same phase at the same time -- they were never -meant- to be. And then...
COMBATSYS: Vuong has left the fight here.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Jiro 0/-------/=======|
"'m right here, uh. Shouting. From, from the portal," Rust corrects himself as he clears his throat, from wherever he is in relation to them. He can't see - he can only hear, and from the tone of his voice he's pretty desperate to grasp at any straw to get the two of them back.
"The, the others're lookin' for... a rope, some, some other stuff like that," he kind of babbles on, but the ex-Shop teacher raises his voice in hopes that maybe all his calling will see them all come back.
"Jiro? Jiro? E-Either of you?" He repeats again. "You there...? Hey...?"
Slowly, the darkness is starting to ebb away. There are lingering doubts in his rage. With the voice of Rust behind him, those memories have started forming. His teeth grits and he keeps slamming his fist into the ground.
A growl forms and he just tries not to burst into tears.
However, as the older Jiro starts to approach him, the black flames around the young boy slowly fades at least... Until the older Jiro just speaks to him.
"..."
Once the hand rests on his shoulder, the eyes widen and he lowers his head. "...Folks will not remember me.." It is then, that the elder joins with him. The two enter an acceleration phase as the fusion occurs.
....
And yet, while the portal starts to close and Rust tries to find a rope...
A flicker of light manifests from the side of Rust.
The Stray Dog looks the same, however, he feels... whole? There is a more somber look to him, but for the brief moment, he feels at peace.
"...We're here."
Behind the younger Jiro, there is seen the older looking Jiro who has a grin on his face.
COMBATSYS: Jiro has ended the fight here.
Log created on 19:20:32 10/18/2014 by Jiro, and last modified on 21:03:45 10/20/2014.