screwthegods | 009 | [Voice/Action]

009 | [Voice/Action]

What would you be willing to give for a second chance?

[Take the question as you will, Luceti. Homura's purposely vague, wanting not only to see what answers he receives, but how people interpret the question itself. After he poses the question, he'll be making a trip out to House 50--unannounced, of course. Ayumu has yet to contact him after the experiment, so Homura will take it upon himself to go see her. Better that than leaving the issue unresolved.]

[Afterward, he'll head to the Battle Dome to practice. It's been some time since the last draft, and he refuses to let his swordsmanship suffer during the lull. So he'll be going at it while completely limited, fighting the targets offered by the program. Unlike others he's seen, Homura moves with cool efficiency, and aims to kill with almost every blow.]

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[It's a hit, certainly; ever since that moment with Tetsunosuke, when she faced the near-certain knowledge that she wouldn't return and her walls had crumbled, Ayumu hadn't been entirely certain of just where she stood. It shouldn't have been a problem, though— or at least she shouldn't have lived long enough for it to become one. And then there had been the sudden and unexpected reprieve of Luceti, Susumu's presence, and the ensuing struggle to define just how she wanted to be. The latest experiment had only thrown her even farther off balance, and now that Homura not only wouldn't leave her alone, but insisted on prying into the weak points that had been revealed....

There's certainly a visible flicker at that, though whether it's anger or something else is difficult to say before it vanishes, hidden behind that stubbornly-held mask. And though Ayumu doesn't move from where she stands, there's a certain amount of tension present in the set of her shoulders.]

A spy must wear any number of masks, Homura-san, but cannot become caught up in any one of them. All that matters is the mission that has been assigned.

[Homura knows he's getting closer. The look may vanish quickly, but that it is present at all tells him that much. And as a warrior, one who fought countless battles over the course of centuries, he can read that shift in her posture easily. Perhaps Ayumu herself isn't so aware of it, but her body knows--she's getting ready to somehow move.]

Yet what mission could you possibly have here? Your role in your home world was coming to an end--you had resigned yourself to death, only to be brought here instead. How can you have a mission, a purpose in this place when you were ready for the grave? Mere masks can't provide that answer, nor can they take away the emptiness of life without it. Without that purpose, perhaps you aren't even real.

[For years her control had been so perfect, so unbreakable, that she'd almost never showed anything of what she truly thought when she didn't wish to. For years she'd been exactly as she'd been trained to be, the near-perfect kunoichi— and now what?

Ayumu inwardly curses her lack of control even as she feels her eyes narrow slightly, her stance shift just a fraction toward readiness, as she becomes even more aware of the subtle press of concealed weapons. Words are not an enemy she can fight, however, not even words such as the ones the man uses with the precision of a sharp blade.]

I still have a task to perform and duties to attend to, as long as the Shinsengumi are present in this place. Though it's hardly your place to question such.

Perhaps not.

[Homura pushes off the door now, shifting his weight so he's not leaning against the surface. It's a slight move, one Ayumu will no doubt see just as he sees her. If she chooses to come at him, then so be it. A physical attack will be nothing more than a confession to her loss of verbal retort--the last, desperate attempt of a woman with no other escape.]

But I am hardly the only questioning it, am I? You don't dare to admit it, but those questions are nothing you haven't asked yourself, day to day, perhaps the whole time you've been here. I'm sure you're quite good at ignoring the whispers, but then things like this happen. This, and the experiment, detailing the life you could have led if only you had made a few different choices along the way.

You can't run from it forever, Ayumu. That indecision is nothing more than living as if you were already dead.

[When he moves Ayumu does shift just a little, an abortive reaction to a potential threat that didn't materialize, but she manages to rein herself in before actually reaching for a weapon. Just barely, though. Just enough, even if she can almost feel each word as a physical blow.]

You seem so convinced that you're right.

[He is. She knows that he is, but there's no reason to admit it to him. She still can stay herself as long as she maintains her careful control.]

Because I am right.

[Ayumu doesn't need to admit it. Homura knows, from how defensive she's become, from how she reacts to even a slight movement on his part that he's struck to her very core. She's already confessed through those motions, even without her words.

Yet even if she remains perfectly still, Homura would speak without doubt. There is a foundation to his words, to the confidence that marks every phrase. It isn't arrogance that has him pulling away the layers of this woman, but he won't reveal that yet. Not until she's broken down enough to hear it.]

You know that I'm right.

[Ayumu shakes her head once, an unconscious, almost convulsive denial; for a fraction of a second she has the impulse to cover her ears entirely, like a child hearing something they don't wish to. Which she doesn't, she doesn't want to hear the fears and doubts of her own heart spoken aloud, much less by a man who barely knows her but knows her entirely too well at the same time.

But she cannot break down, can not, will not, even as she realizes she isn't certain why. To maintain her pride, if nothing else, for what else is left to her now?

She turns away abruptly, as though hiding her face will hide any of her other reactions, as some of her tension bleeds even into her voice when she speaks again.]

I have nothing else to say to you.

Are you so certain of that? [Homura makes no move to depart, though it's clear that Ayumu wishes him to, along with the words that have chipped away her defenses. It's good that she doesn't shatter completely--Homura has no desire to break her will entirely. He simply needs her exposed and raw, in a state where his words can't be easily swept aside and forgotten.]

I told you when we first truly spoke that I was dead in my world--to be accurate, I was killed, fighting my greatest opponent to achieve my dreams. For someone who lives his life on the battlefield, there can be no better death.

But instead of the death I had resolved myself to, I woke up here--with no purpose. It's the second time in my life I've been forced to watch meaningless days pass cruelly by.

[Exposed and raw indeed, her control held in place only by sheer stubborn will: the right word could shatter it entirely, and yet he doesn't make the fatal blow. Nothing in Ayumu's outward stance changes, and she remains just as aware of him as she would any other threat, but she is listening. There is little else to do, for the moment.

The question she ignores, but as she speaks her hands flex slightly, open and closed and open again, then come to rest flat against the front of her obi. When he pauses in his narrative, almost against her will, she finds herself prompting him to continue.]

...and?

And I'm still unsure in several ways. [No, there are no easy answers to this question.] But I know who my enemies are, and that is a start. The Malnosso are responsible for toying with us, and should the chance come, I will strike out against them. I've no desire to be in this cage a moment more than is necessary.

In the meantime, however, I'm discovering that there are people around me who I am glad to know. In whatever way possible, I'd like them to find at least some happiness here. And for myself, of course. [Homura grins faintly.] I never asked for this life, but I will be the only one to truly decide what is done with it. That is something I refuse to have taken from me.

[And again anger flares, allowing Ayumu to turn back to face him again with her expression once more carefully neutral, even and hiding the turmoil within.]

And that's your point, Homura-san? That we're alike?

No. And regardless of the similar circumstances, my answer can't be yours. I just hope you'll address the problem before it overwhelms you.

[Which is a deadline he's likely pushed all the closer--but better that than watch her continue to put it off in denial.]

I remember how painful it was existing that way, after all.

[She and denial are quite well acquainted, unfortunately; they've been good friends for all the years she insisted to Susumu that she didn't care about him at all. At the moment, though, she's moved on to anger, and that directed entirely at him, the one who'd left her feeling almost as open and exposed as the Malnosso had.]

I have no need of your concern, nor your sympathy.

So you say. Your anger would indicate that you do need something, however. And until you resolve this issue, it will remain an excellent striking point for the Malnosso.

Or yours, since you seem quite willing to use information that only came to you through their interference.

So it would seem. You're free to do the same, if you think it will be to your benefit.

Either way, the point remains.

[Perhaps it does. But only if she cares to acknowledge it, which — for the moment, at least — she does not. What she'd told him she'd hoped would remain unacknowledged, but clearly she'd hoped in vain.]

I have no need to taunt you, Homura-san. But I should return to my work.

[And she'll step forward again, approaching the door with her careful mask only slightly marred by the tension remaining in her posture and movements.]

[Ah, but Homura can't risk leaving her with that lingering opportunity for an excuse. Otherwise his efforts will have been for naught, all brushed aside by a new form of denial.]

No, I suppose you wouldn't. After all, of the two of us, I'm not the one so dangerously close to breaking because of that weakness.

[Yes, it's cruel. But so often that cold mockery is necessary for someone to grow stronger, or so it's been in Homura's experience.]

[It's certainly enough to make her halt again, standing unconsciously poised to move even though the look she gives him is nothing but cool.]

Am I, indeed.

Oh yes. How else could it have festered for so long? This event didn't start these issues for you, Yamazaki Ayumu. Just when did your brother arrive in Luceti? Or perhaps he found you on your first day.

[Her coolness is met with the same untouchable arrogance as Homura is acustomed to showing when he plays these sorts of games.]

You knew from the moment you saw him that your mission was done--otherwise, there'd be no question of your resolve. And it's left you helplessly stuck in limbo since, moving from persona to persona, hoping no one would notice the cracks breaking through to the surface that you are unable to fix.

[By itself his latest taunt might have been something she could have dealt with— she would have been angry, certainly, but no more so than before. The addition of her brother, however, the brother she'd cared for more than her own life and yet denied for so long, the brother she'd only managed to make tentative overtures to once they'd been reunited again, that was more than enough to crack what fragile resolve was left to her and send her from carefully controlled and simmering anger to unthinking fury.

And without thought Ayumu simply acts, hand flashing to the small blade concealed in her obi and drawing it out even as she lunges forward. She cannot fight against words, this she knows logically, but when she was left stripped bare of all defenses logic gave way in the face of a blind need to somehow fight back, to stop the flow of words before they could hurt all the more.]

[So the facade finally shatters, and Ayumu reveals herself as an impressive opponent. Even blinded by rage, her movements are swift and efficient--potentially lethal if Homura doesn't take care. But he has told her already of his origin, and speed far beyond a human's allows him to reach out, gripping her wrist to cease her assault.

But given the hidden nature of that weapon, Homura has no doubt she will pull another if given the opportunity. So he turns, forcing Ayumu hard against the door by way of that captured hand. He pushes it up over her head, and in the same moment seeks to grip her other arm to incapacitate her fully.]

Could you even bring yourself to tell him the truth?

[Homura had mentioned before what he was, certainly, but it was difficult for her to entirely grasp the concept: Ayumu was never comfortable around supernatural phenomena to begin with, no matter how common it might be in Luceti, and she hadn't quite realized just how fast he was until she found herself caught and restrained. For an instant she flashes back in memory to another day, another time, minutes before she found herself in this place, and that adds another degree of urgency to her struggle to free herself from the bruisingly tight grip on her wrists.

As his words sink in, though, she freezes with a brief flash of almost anguished regret in her eyes, certainly answer enough for one perceptive as he. And then the fury once more blanks her expression and she lashes out with one foot for his knee, trying to force him to let go.]

Edited 2011-05-24 08:54 (UTC)

[Homura sees it, that flash of emotion rising to answer, unbidden by the woman struggling so furiously against him now. Yet for all her efforts, Ayumu would have greater success striking a wall; even when her kick connects, Homura doesn't falter, as if he feels no pain from the blow.]

Lash out all you wish. I am not the one responsible for your choices, or your regrets.

[She continues to fight a moment longer still, as though it takes time for the words to sink in, but finally her struggles weaken and then halt entirely. All the anger has drained away now, leaving her with nothing left but the shattered remnants of her pride, and though she stands as straight as she can in his hold her head bows, eyes closing as her lips silently form three syllables.]

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screwthegods - 2011-05-24 21:42 (UTC) - Expand

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