2022-12-16: Broken Hearts
- Log: 2022-12-16: Broken Hearts
- Cast: Sayla Mass, Domon Kasshu
- Where: Kamesan Park, Tsutsujidai
- OOC - IC Date: 15 December 0096
- Summary: The King of Hearts and the Two of Hearts speak face to face and heart to heart.
<Pose Tracker> Sayla Mass has posed.
Kamesan Park is one of the more intact areas Tustsujidai after the collapse. Sometimes people come here for a taste of normalcy, or distance from others or a place to sleep under the covered picnic areas.
Sayla is after none of these things, but is looking for someone who might be after the last two. In her bag is a recently reheated yakisoba pan- and a melon pan for good measure- that she salvaged from a crumbled convenience that someone else had found. It's harder to seek out familiar presences now, but she has a hunch.
She walks toward a covered structure with benches lining the inside, stops just outside in the rain and doesn't knock. "I got reports of a vagrant wandering around taking care of the occasional BioNet shaped problem. That said I got mixed reports of poncho and headband or cowboy hat but what are the odds of two people doing that crap?"
She sighs. She still hasn't developed a lot of patience for the new King of Hearts. The old one left a deep scar- even if the one on Domon is deeper. It's why she has more patience for him than the rest. "Anyway, I'm coming in. You haven't picked up a ration pack all week and I don't care what training you went through, I'm techncally your 2IC and Rain would tear me a new one if I didn't at least check in." She follows through, reasonably certain Domon IS actually in here. And if he's not... well, she'll work it out.
<Pose Tracker> Domon Kasshu has posed.
Domon grunted at the sound of Sayla's voice hammering through the park air. Why now, of all times, right after he'd found a good napping spot? As her voice continued to ring out towards him like the world's most persistent alarm clock, Domon hunkered down, hoisting his tattered cloak over his head like the world's most apocaylyptic safety blanket. Still, the sounds of her disapproval traveled through the ragged fabric, and the King of Heart had no choice but to make a decidedly unroyal reply.
"Alright, alright! I'm here, you win! Just stop the preaching! You're even worse than Rain when she gets like this..." Rain. Domon sighed. There would be enough time for regrets later. Begrudgingly getting up from his impovised cot under the pagoda tent, the fumbling martial artist almost tripped over the edge of his cloak as it fell back into its usual role. Smooth, Domon. Real smooth. Imagine what Schwarz would say if he could see you now. If...he'd been able to see him now. Would Kyoji and his doppleganger approve of the path he's taken? The choices he's made? A swift slap to the cheek from his hand. A red mark to wake him up from his stupor. Not yet. These were not conversations he was ready to have, and he knew Sayla all too well. No sense in giving her cracks to pry open, not just yet.
As he continues walking to the edge of the overhand, Domon finally spots her. Sayla Mass, leader, pilot, and all around charismatic individual. Also 3-time winner of the Nag Fight tournament. Okay, that was a bit harsh, but still, he wasn't a child to be looked after. He called out to her. "Yep, you found me Sayla, here I am. Domon Kasshu, master of living of the land and criminal vending machines. Honestly, it's just one ration pack, you didn't have to come all this way to deliver it to me. I also went to train that kid you told me about, Yuta. Good head on his shoulders, but he's too damn young to be fighting like us."
<Pose Tracker> Sayla Mass has posed.
"Unsurprising. She keeps you in line out of love. I'm doing it out of the fact that that I don't intend to let this alliance fall apart on my watch." She tosses him the wrapped Yakisoba. "Best I could get, no one's doing fresh right now." Three time winner doesn't count the no holds barred street matches she has with Leina.
"Six ration packs, Domon. They're handed out daily. And this isn't one of them, just didn't want it to go to waste." Still, when Domon brings up Yuta, Sayla pauses."...He's a year younger than I was. Older than half the White Base crew," She says, as if to argue before stopping. "But you're right. It is way too early. But we don't always get a choice."
Sayla sits on one of the bences, then sags. "I should have asked you sooner." She taps on the bench with her right hand, a sign of nervousness. "...Yuta was stabbed on Friday Night. They succesfully treated the injury, but he's been in a coma since. The doctors at the hospital don't know what's wrong with him." Leader, pilot, charismatic person... and far too slow to act.
<Pose Tracker> Domon Kasshu has posed.
Domon blearily catches the yakisoba pan absentmindedly with one hand, almost taking a bite out of it before remembering to tear the wrapping off. Yay, still being half-asleep from an interrupted nap. "Yeah, well. Worse things have happened to the Shuffle Alliance. I'm sure the second King of Heart is going to go mad with power because he's not very interested in eating some Meals Rejected by Everyone." Despite his obvious distaste, Domon still begrudgingly accepts the rations, if only to have Sayla drop the topic for a moment.
Drop it she does, as they soberly muse over Yuta. Choice. Always a lack of choice. Is this the cycle of karma and fate humanity was now trapped in? Youth being forced into wars with every generation, the same mistakes and cruelties being repeated by power-mad despots and twisted ideologists wearing different skins and faces? He'd sworn not to lose hope, to keep the faith that his mentor had so tragically discarded...yet even so, a darkened droplet of Domon's thoughts wondered if Master Asia had been so mad after all, if children as young as Yuta were being forced into battle and tragedy because they didn't get the choice they were suppsoed to.
% Domon is snapped out of his internal turmoil upon hearing the next words from Sayla's mouth. Yuta...stabbed?! While his face remained blank, the King of Heart's eyes underwent rapid changes, a flurry of sadness, regret, worry, and rage flickering through the windows to his soul as if an indecisive youth was trying to decide what spectrum of emotion he wished to experience today on the brain radio. Not that he had anything to hide, Sayla would know regardless. Domon slumps down next to Sayla on the spot offered, his hunched frame still towering over her, rippling with lean muscle, scar tissue, and a lips being chewed raw from the inside, barely keeping his anger in check. "Who was it, Sayla. Who hurt my student? Who am I introducing to a Heat End?" His fists curled inwards in shaking rage, as his eyes and hair momentarily flashed reddish-gold, an enraged state he had last entered from within the Shining Gundam. The King of Heart looks at Sayla Mass.
"Tell me. Now."
<Pose Tracker> Domon Kasshu has posed.
Domon blearily catches the yakisoba pan absentmindedly with one hand, almost taking a bite out of it before remembering to tear the wrapping off. Yay, still being half-asleep from an interrupted nap. "Yeah, well. Worse things have happened to the Shuffle Alliance. I'm sure the second King of Heart is going to go mad with power because he's not very interested in eating some Meals Rejected by Everyone." Despite his obvious distaste, Domon still begrudgingly accepts the rations, if only to have Sayla drop the topic for a moment.
Drop it she does, as they soberly muse over Yuta. Choice. Always a lack of choice. Is this the cycle of karma and fate humanity was now trapped in? Youth being forced into wars with every generation, the same mistakes and cruelties being repeated by power-mad despots and twisted ideologists wearing different skins and faces? He'd sworn not to lose hope, to keep the faith that his mentor had so tragically discarded...yet even so, a darkened droplet of Domon's thoughts wondered if Master Asia had been so mad after all, if children as young as Yuta were being forced into battle and tragedy because they didn't get the choice they were supposed to.
Domon is snapped out of his internal turmoil upon hearing the next words from Sayla's mouth. Yuta...stabbed?! While his face remained blank, the King of Heart's eyes underwent rapid changes, a flurry of sadness, regret, worry, and rage flickering through the windows to his soul as if an indecisive youth was trying to decide what spectrum of emotion he wished to experience today on the brain radio. Not that he had anything to hide, Sayla would know regardless. Domon slumps down next to Sayla on the spot offered, his hunched frame still towering over her, rippling with lean muscle, scar tissue, and a lips being chewed raw from the inside, barely keeping his anger in check. "Who was it, Sayla. Who hurt my student? Who am I introducing to a Heat End?" His fists curled inwards in shaking rage, as his eyes and hair momentarily flashed reddish-gold, an enraged state he had last entered from within the Shining Gundam. The King of Heart looks at Sayla Mass.
"Tell me. Now."
<Pose Tracker> Sayla Mass has posed.
"...You're probably the 80th or 90th," Sayla says, a little venom in her voice. "The alliance has been around for more than 4000 years, but the records don't go back that far to give an exact number. At least that's what Tris told me." Sayla rubs her temples. "Domon, what the fuck do you think I do in my day job. It's ingredients for those who have the means and ability, a mix of frozen meals and cooked meals using hospital facilities, and emergency non-perishables." Not that Sayla... shared as much. She keeps the two separate.
Sayla feels the rush of emotions coming off Domon and in return she hardens, and her voice is just as steeled as Domon. "Not a chance. Not while you're like this." Her own pressure rises in response to Domon, the hardened heart of Sayla Mass rises to face the King of Hearts.
"I know it won't be hard for you to work out on your own, but if the King of Hearts wants to cripple or kill a scared, traumatized, abused teenager pushed to the edge by her abuser and play right into her abuser's hands... Then I'll run every interference I fucking have to. I promised Rikka I'd support her, and Rikka, Yuta and Utsumi all decided they wanted to save her." Sayla's blue eyes, the years of hurt and betrayal behind them. The sheer anger in her voice- and the despair. "I keep my promises, Domon. And I know you do too. So I'll tell you who it was- if you promise to honor your students wishes."
It shouldn't be hard, she thinks. Domon forgave the man who killed so many of Sayla's friends and comrades. Even if Sayla didn't.
<Pose Tracker> Domon Kasshu has posed.
Breathe, Domon. Breathe deep. Heat. Flame. Incandescent anger. It all threatened to consume him in a way he hadn't felt since his battle against Ulube.
Breathe, Domon. Breathe deep. Tears for the fallen, a horrid scream at his powerlessness once again, both threatening to escape his frame.
Breathe, Domon. Breathe deep. The mantra finally found purchase in the shattered cliff of his emotions, a worn grip that threatened to crumble under his weight if he lost composure. The King of Heart's rage reduced from a raging boil to a simmer, but it took him all he had to let himself not be blinded by fury once more. Some practitioner of Meikyo-Shisui you are, Domon. Still, aside from the rage, the horror and disgust were still very real and very present. "Fine...Sayla. Then do not tell me of the girl's name, but tell me of her puppeteer. The one who drove her to such twisted lengths. Someone 'will' pay for what has happened to Yuta. No one touches a member of The Undefeated of The East and gets to live unscathed."
A harsh, frustrated sigh whistles through Domon's pursed lips as he gets up and wordlessly smashes his hand into a debased lamp post, the tall, steel hulk groaning under the force of his blow. No worries about property damage for something left to fester in its decrepit ruin. A sharp complaint of pain echoed up his arm. No breaks or fractures, but most certainly a bone bruise. It was sorely needed. The pain would focus him, remind him of who the true enemy was. Turning around swfitly, his cloak whirls around him like a shroud, the fluid cloth making the King of Heart seem larger and more menacing in the fading sun. He had forgiven too easily in the past. Certainly, he would be in another hell of his own making if he had refused to reconcile with Master Asia despite his crimes.
But perhaps, that's what he deserved.
<Pose Tracker> Sayla Mass has posed.
Sayla can live with that request... even if Domon doesn't promise. "Alexis Kerib. He's an alien of some form. He can seemingly be wherever he wants whenever he wants. And he has the power to cut through an empowered Mazin all on his own. I've yet to see anything that can hurt him. The closest entity we hve in our records is something called 'Digifer Khan', from when Gridman fought with the last Shuffle Alliance, but that was before either of our times. And even then, I don't have a lot of details."
Domon's desire for vengeance is one she understands well. She'd be much worse if someone did this to Leina. She flinches as Domon damages the street light, with so much force. "...In all honesty, we don't know how to fight him, but if he sees a weakness in you he'll abuse it. I know you tend to go off on your own, but if you want to put an end to this son of a bitch, there's someone you should meet. Several someone's in fact."
She doesn't actually expect Domon to say yes, but... the more things that can help her ensure Akane makes it out alive... The more things that can ensure her promises to Rikka and Akane... She'll take the shot for those.
<Pose Tracker> Domon Kasshu has posed.
Domon commits the name to memory. Alexis Kerib. He would pay dearly for this transgression. Preferably with his own blood, or whatever passed for blood flowing in that fiend's body. Still, an entity capable of harming even a Mazin...Domon began to empty his mind again, hollowing out his rage and scooping it from his body, like one winnows infested crops to purge the taint from the fields. He needed to regain control, Sayla was right. Rage was a powerful tool, but not when it threatened to consume him like it did in the earlier half of the Devil Gundam War.
"So, a bastard from the outer reaches of space, and one that the old Alliance fought back in the day. They sure did a hell of a job making sure he stayed down, huh?" Domon spat to the side as his fist pulsed with dull, aching pain. Sayla's next comments piqued his interest and he faced her once more, his cloak covering his body in a silhouette almost reminiscent of a cowled Master Gundam. "I'm listening, Sayla. Who are they? More kids punching out of their leagues? Cause if they are..." Grit teeth. Not that he had any room to speak of distaste, having taken on Yuta as a disciple. Was it the curse of generations? That he and Sayla were doomed to repeat the past and indoctrinate a new generation of youths into bloody, vile conflict?
The King of Heart pauses, waiting for Sayla's response, as a long silence passes between them.
<Pose Tracker> Sayla Mass has posed.
"Different entities. Different victims. Similar MO." Sayla is quick to assert again- quick to assert that the last Shuffle Alliance did their job. She can feel domon fighting that rage- but rage is contagious and Sayla has to establish her walls time and time again. They're so beaten down right now.
"First off, Yuta's friends. It might be best if I'm there too, though. "They're still just kids who were pushed into war." She pauses. "The other person, though... With him I think you can probably work things out without me. He can even keep up if you talk with your fists." Sayla's voice is dry, and a little sardonic. But if anyone can tangle with the King of Hearts on equal footing...
"You've heard of the King of Braves, right?"
<Pose Tracker> Domon Kasshu has posed.
Domon ponders briefly. The King of Braves...Domon had fought one of their comrades, infected by the power of Triple Zero, in Tsutsujidai. It'd taken the combined power of the God Gundam, multiple EVA units, a wanzer, and others to finally take that unit down, and Goldymarg had still made an escape despite the catastrophic amount of power that'd been unleashed against him. "Yeah, I've heard of them. Eternally battling against the Zonderians and their Zonders. What, do you have a direct line to Guy Shishiou or something?" A pause that was immediately followed by, "No, wait, that was a dumb question. Of course you do, you're Sayla Mass, you know everyone." The sardonic remark was nonetheless laced with curiosity. Someone who could keep up with me? Interesting, Domon thought, very interesting.
"Connect us, then. I don't want to drag Yuta's friends into any more of this than absolutely necessary. We don't need another generation of war youths growing into damaged grown-ups stuck in the past, like me." Domon looked skyward towards Neo-Japan's approximate location as he said these words. Would things have been different if his nation hadn't tried to abandon Mother Earth in such of a manufactured paradise? Perhaps. Perhaps not. The only thing that mattered right not was making sure more children didn't end up like Yuta. One was already far too many.
<Pose Tracker> Sayla Mass has posed.
"Their enemies is Triple Zero right now. The Zonders haven't made a reappearance, The unit Alexis took down was powered by Triple Zero's energy." As Domon asks if Sayla had a direct line, she pulls out an old GGG Pager. "Birthday gift." She slides it back into her jacket. "...Also his cousin just moved in with Leina and me. Though Renais is on this side of the dimensional distortion." It's clear Sayla's worried, just from bringing up Leina. "...given the overlap with Triple Zero and Tsutsujidai, we've been unofficially working together."
"...We're a bit late for that, Domon. As much as we tried to stop it." She sighs. "And the Gridman Alliance have been fighting Alexis even before Tsutsujidai opened up to our world. It's their fight, not ours. We can support them as best as we can, but we can't fight it for them or make the deicisions. As much as I desperately wish we could." There's that pain that Sayla is carring with her, always. Now Domon's calming down, there's room for melancholy.
"There's... another reason Guy and I are working together. It's personal, but it could... and will affect my judgment. You're the guiding light of the alliance, so you should know." Sayla pauses, and breathes out. "...Triple Zero brought back Amuro Ray, and like the rest of them all he's thinking about is ending the world. Even if it's been a long time...I won't leave him like that. I might need you to stop me from doing something stupid." Sayla recognizes the irony in the ask... but it's better to say it. She's the two of hearts, after all. And he's the king.
<Pose Tracker> Domon Kasshu has posed.
Domon mulls over the information poured over him like a flood with as much tact as a washed out martial artist was capable of. That is, to say, with a lot of visible emotion. 'Especially' in regards to the return of Amuro Ray.
'The' Amuro Ray. The White Devil. The counterpart to one of the greatest space terrorists to have lived, and the poster child of the fading Federation for so many a year. Now he's back, possessed by a malignant extra-universal force, and is hellbent on ending everything like the rest of them. Lovely. It's almost like the universe 'does' want to give him a drinking problem.
"This...this is a lot to take in, Sayla. I'll concede the point on the kids, since even if I tried to stop the Gridman fan club, they'd just go ahead behind my back or yours to accomplish what they think has to be done in their fight. But Amuro Ray...Sayla, I may be one of the stronger regular humans around...err, Naturals, or whatever them labcoats like to call us plain non-Newtypes, but really...me? Don't you know of any other, more psychicaly tuned metahumans that might be more useful to connecting to your nihilistic friend from beyond? All I have to offer are my fists...and the pain I've caused with them."
The King of Heart turns away and sighs raggedly. "Guiding light? Don't kid me like that, Sayla. I'm a mess. Years of wandering just for me to come back and stick my nose into places where it doesn't belong again. I have more questions than answers from my time away, and plenty of regrets. I'm not a gleaming pillar of shining strength anymore. Just a relic, tarnished and faded, that can barely break free of the rust and woe to burn for longer than a second." Domon's hand absent-mindedly traces the scars on his face. A hollowed out sound escapes from his lips as he wearily turns to Sayla for what seems like the umpteenth time in this conversation.
"If you're asking me to hold you back from him, you know what that means, right? Even if it means he might have to disappear again, or die for good. Think long and hard, Sayla. Second chances like these are rare, and all too precious."
<Pose Tracker> Sayla Mass has posed.
"It's not your fists, I'm after. It's the hands that make them and what's attached to them." She looks up at Domon seriously. "You were there, when the last Shuffle Alliance killed themselves to save the current batch." A hard choice of words. "There is one person alive who was there, has the experience and wasn't corrupted by DG Cells. You saw how the crests purified them, and if you know how..." She grips the side of the bench tightly. "If we can weaken a 'Ruin Apostle', we can purify them and bring them back to who they were. We can save them. But it takes two purifiers to heal them, or they'll fail. Guy can do it. Mamoru and Mr Kaidou can do it. But if we're spread too far apart and they attack, three isn't enough. And we need to be able to weaken him in the first place."
And then Sayla finally, finally boils over. "The five of you are fucking supposed to be!" She yells, years of anger finally rising up past the wall in her heart. Her stabilizing influences aren't her. Destabilizing influences are all around. "Tris, Alan, Nassius, Max... Even Shuuji- even Master Asia!" She stands up, rage filling her raised voice. It's lucky the park is quiet. "They were the ones who gave direction to the Alliance! I was just there to support them, to help coordinate them! Jamil would give input but they were the heart, just like you're supposed to be! They shouldn't be in the hands of someone like me! A woman who gave a kid back to terrorists knowing he'd die and kill countless others in the process to save an agent and a civilian! Someone who was prepared to pull the trigger on her friend's loved ones because 'what if' we couldn't save them!"
Sayla doesn't hit anything, but she moves to pull the hipflask full of cheap scotch from her bag, and take a hit. "You're supposed to be the people who never give up and find the right path- the kind, just path! Not an ex-soldier making cruel decisions!" If not stopped, Sayla will all but slam the flask, downing half of it in one go.
"What I want you to do Domon-" The bitterness in Sayla's voice is rolling over now, her limit finally reached. The years of Chibodee insisting on playing bodyguard rather than taking a lead. George's chivalry and insisting on honoring madam's wishes. Sai Saici used to have the excuse of being a child, but he still hadn't changed. Argo and Nastasha, taking a Neo-French noble with them on their piracy tour of the colonies. Jamil wanting to rescue every endangered newtype or cyber newtype one at a time. And her left holding the bag.
"What I want you to do is to stop me making the stupid decision of giving up, and making sure I come home to Leina instact at the same time. Is that within the skill of the King of Hearts?"
<Pose Tracker> Domon Kasshu has posed.
Domon watches silently with great intensity, before darting his arm forward and holding the flask away from her mouth. "Enough, Sayla. I hear you. Yes. I was there. And still, sometimes I wonder, if they made the right decision, choosing us as their successors. We managed to defeat the Devil Gundam, sure, but you've seen how we've splintered since. How we've dulled with rust. How all of us have lost our paths again." Summoning his crest with willpower that was becoming harder to come by everyday, a feeling that was slipping away as sure as the rain eventually erodes mountains, Domon peered on the King of Heart 4711. The sigil glowed and pulsed faintly in the shade, nowhere near as vibrant now as it was back then, except in the throes of combat.
Clarity of purpose.
Perhaps Sayla was right. Perhaps it was time to start the clock once more. If nothing else, he wanted to help her. Even with the distance he'd grown from Rain, he truly loved her. For as much of an idiot he was, hot-headed and enslaved to his emotions, Domon didn't want to give up on love again. Sayla might never admit to it, but she didn't have to. The King of Heart could see how much Amuro meant to her. "...Fine. I'll help you, Sayla. After all...no one should have to see someone they care for in this kind of state."
A long pause passes before Domon decides to lighten the mood the only way he knows how to: by being an idiot. Still holding Sayla's wrist, he lifts her up and tips the rest of her flask into his mouth. The acrid tang of conbini scotch assaults his tastebuds and throat, making the Suntory on the higher shelves look like the nectar of the gods in comparison. Finishing it off, Domon looks down at Sayla in mock disappointment. "I know you had some stress built up, Sayla, but sweet Christmas, you need to see someone if you're resorting to lighter fluid. Like come on! Where did you get this stuff? From one of the vending machines I broke? Did you ambush the repair person and take their tool kit's can or something???" A snarky, sardonic grin lights up his face, even as Domon tries his best to disguise his lack of confidence in the endeavors to come. Even so, the course was charted. He couldn't fail.
He wouldn't.
<Pose Tracker> Sayla Mass has posed.
Domon grabbing her wrist makes Sayla stop, the jolt pulling her back to looking at Domon. He says he hears her but... "...I guess that makes two of us." She says, a little sourly. This was just supposed to have been a short update, not her spilling her heart in public.
"...Thank you." Sayla says, her eyes looking away. Domon would have some idea, wouldn't he? It's not the same but-
She feels the tilt of her wrist, and she turns back to Domon to see him. Drinking her flask. "You." The audaciousness of it. The absurdity of it. Sayla just stares at a second, before he tears into her taste.
"I am making do with what I can get! It's not like I can go to a liquor store and leave with a fifteen year old single malt and a six pack of Britannian cider." The response is a little forced, but she can appreciate what Domon's trying. If not the method. She relaxes a little, nonetheless. "Besides, there's a chance that any booze here tastes like this, regardless of the label. This place is a little weird like that." She pulls her hand away from Domon, and slips the flask back in the bag. "You can find me at the school, or there's an office block a little ways away. Next to the McDaniels, third floor. Try not to scare the volunteers when you visit."
Sayla turns to walk away. She really needs to wind down still. That was way, way more open than she had planned to be.