Participants:
| Scene Title | Beyond Today |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Matters of honor and vengeance lie at the heart of a fight between a leader and his former disciple. |
| Date | May 21, 2009 |
Tokyo - Parkland
Now that both of his children have been dealt with one way or another, Adam has set his sights on the man who he primarily wants revenge against. Sent to Kaito's office is a note, delivered by a boy stopped by security who, we'll say, filtered it up to the old man. The note only has the name of a park, a time, and the Kensai symbol to inform the old man of who the sender was.
To see the symbol again was not the surprise it should have been. It was only a matter of time, and a surprising amount of it, since Monroe escaped the box of concrete and glass Kaito had confined him within. And so he goes, to reclaim the things taken from him, with words or otherwise. His children, his legacy. The not so small things in life. He is here as a businessman and dressed as such.
He also brought his sword, at the behest of a woman who dreams. Seated on a park bench at a punctual time to meet Adam at his chosen location, the sheathed weapon rests across Kaito's knees, hands curled around it, relaxed, and chin angled up to view what he can see of the horizon. A suit is punctuated by a sedate tie of dark steel-grey, and the lighter coat he wears over flaps its lapels in the breeze.
Along with Huruma, Adam walks through the park towards Kaito's bench. He approaches from behind, carrying a sword. His sword. He smiles winningly at Huruma and says, "Well, time for this." and calmly steps around the bench and unless Kaito jumps up and attacks, sits calmly beside him with some distance, with his sword across his lap.
Staying a length behind as Adam proceeds, Huruma wavers somewhere between obvious sight and the edge of vision, should a face be turned in that particular direction. A shadow flitting around out of the corner of your eyes, so to speak. She remains within reasonable distance, at least; her mind, meanwhile, hovers around the edges of the two men, like fingers floating over a tesla ball.
There's no sign of tension from Kaito as the presence of the man he's come to meet fills his periphery, settles down beside him. Perhaps this is the clandestine meeting of negotiation Kaito would hope for. Perhaps not. He turns to look sidelong at the immortal, and then further over his shoulder, giving Huruma a look of pure study. His emotions, free for her to sense, are streamlined into a sort of apathy, but deeper still there is anger. Regret.
Fear. He speaks in English. "New followers already, Adam Monroe?"
Adam chuckles a bit as he glances up towards the sky a moment, studying the atmosphere quietly and then says, "I learned a long time ago that you can't go things alone, Kaito Nakamura. Why, once, I remember bringing together a group of young, like minded individuals to help change the world."
From afar, Huruma examines the man they have come to see at the same time that he looks up towards her, and even from there she fixes Kaito Nakamura with a predatory gaze. A jaded old man with a sword? This is the level boss? How disappointing. But, Huruma will take what she can get, if it means a free show.
"Once," Kaito repeats, a hint of something like disgust in his voice, letting his gaze settle forward again. "And once they grew and learned the errors of their ways, you could not. I do not think you have the wisdom to prevent yourself from repeating the same mistakes. We age and we learn." A glance towards Adam. "And they will too."
Adam chuckles a bit at that, he's quiet for a moment and says, "The only thing you learned, Kaito, was how to betray your leader. Do you really think that anything changed after you imprisoned me? It's only gotten worse now. Arthur, Daniel, Bob…they still play their game of thrones and hurt everyone in their wake."
"But they are not you."
He doesn't stand, but the rigid tension now lining Kaito's back implies that he longs to. The veins at the back of his hands stand out as he holds tight to the katana balanced on his lap. There is still much to say, and he'd been cautioned to say it. "You have taken my part of the Formula from me. I have failed as a guardian and so now I ask you: what would you have in exchange for it?"
Adam lets out a sigh, sounding disappointed at the question, "What indeed, Kaito. What have you left to bargain with that Arthur couldn't give me? Not money, soon you won't even have my things." he pauses, "And Arthur offers an opportunity to destablize the whole damn thing. Pinehearst, Linderman, the Company..I can keep them at odds with each other and weaken each other."
The immortal gains a glance from the younger-in-years man, at the name Arthur. Huruma won't feel surprise form Kaito, or dread, or even a heightening of his other emotions. Simply, she can sense an emotion that can be summed up with: of course. "You will fail," Kaito says, in his usual severe way. "Whether today or tomorrow, you will be overcome. This I know." His coat whispers fabric against fabric as he stands, the sword held at its hilt.
Adam stands from his own seat, his left hand moving to the scabbard of his sword, the other moving to the hilt. He considers Kaito, "I am a patient man." he says in response, "And I have all the time in the world. I will see an end to it all, Kaito. I will take it apart, brick by brick and then I will rebuild." he slowly begins to slide the sword out of the scabbard. "I would have done so already, but you robbed me of thirty years of my life."
"What is thirty years for he who has forever?" The hiss of metal against leather is one familiar to Kaito's ears as he removes his own sword from its sheath. His hands aren't shaking. "It is time to think." Neatly, the scabbard is placed back onto the bench, in hopes he will retrieve it, later. Huruma's presence is all but ignored. "And I see you have not."
Adam watches the older gentleman, at least the one who appears older as he prepares. Adam slides the scabbard onto the bench as well, deciding to just use his sword. He pauses quietly ffor a few moments and then flips the sword about in his hands, apparently pleased to have his sword back, letting his memories rebuild as the sword becomes part of him again. He'd be extra rusty, but he's had a recent significant duel to reacquaint him and he has continued to practice. "And tell me what I should be thinking about." as he gets in a battle ready stance.
The elder Nakamura can straight talk all he pleases to- but the creeping sense of doubt that has been slowly making itself known suddenly levels itself out in the recesses of his mind. Not only that, but starting with all these words about having years of freedom shaved from Adam's extraordinarily long life… doesn't he feel guilty? Just a little bit, at first- the emotion taking place of those that are relatively similar in nature.
Visibly, Huruma has not moved an inch except to wind her arms in front of her stomach, fingers knitting against the crooks of her elbows.
The sword hangs mostly lax from his hand, other coming up to smooth his palm down his tie, to ensure it's in place. That nagging sense of doubt is something many of the Founders have come to live with, but Kaito's mouth draws in a line when he feels his own shadow at the back of his mind. That there was more he should have done.
That his decisions were unwise. His answer, however, is firm and simple. "The inevitability of your defeat." There is no going back. The blade of his sword cuts through the air, but only into a stance that almost mirrors Adam's in technique. In many ways, Kaito still stands before the former mercenary as a businessman. This is just a different kind of negotiation.
Adam shakes his head slowly with a chuckle, "Always a glass half empty sort, weren't you Kaito?" he questions as he swirls the tip of his blade in slow circles. "But I never trusted your power…I never believed you could do more than a pre-cog." he pauses now, "After all…what does it tell you now? How good are your chances? How much of my skill have I regained? How tired are your arms going to be after only a few heavy swings?"
To say that Kaito doesn't smile is a lie. It is rare, and sometimes hard to catch, but it's certainly there. Right now, the lines at his eyes deepen in implication of a smile, one without mirth. The sword is already heavy in his hands. "You have always been an unknown variable, Adam. But I know my chances."
The sword turns once in his hands, before his grip locks. "And I know where they lie beyond today." Adam will see it, the tension that goes up Kaito's arms, into his shoulders, although to the elderly businessman's credit, it comes abrupt, the tension and release of a snake as the sword curves around in an attempt of a biting blow.
Adam sweeps his swords upwards to push back the strike. Interestingly, he doesn't take the opportunity to strike forward. Instead, he makes a barely effective attempt to cut Kaito with a small strike of the tip, almost as if he were simply trying to scold Kaito.
The lazy swipe from Adam's blade hits fabric, draws a shallow cut, and it's harshly responded to, if not out of a matter of pride, but something colder. Determination. Kaito's face has tensed into concentration in his attempts to gain ground, to keep his opponent moving in flashes of silver. He's fighting an unconventional enemy, this is true, but his means are conventional, aggressive and expert despite his age, his choice of dress.
Incidentally, it's spring within the empty park. The flowers in trees, in bushes, are oblivious and immune to the clang of metal.
Adam is standing efficiently, each movement as simple as possible with almost no eye towards attack. His arms move as little as possible to fend of each strike. His only attempts at retaliation are attempts at small cuts along wherever Kaito leaves him open, along his arms or legs or even across the chest, as if trying to fill him with a thousand cuts.
A thousand cuts only do so much, and Kaito doesn't allow it to near reach that number. Two more strikes land, fended off with the simple, defensive strikes, the weapons vibrating in their wielder's hands at each strike of contact, before Kaito steps back once, sword poised. Tension brims but he takes the moment to conserve his strength, regarding Adam silently for the time. A couple of spots of blood make marks here and there on grey fabric, shallow enough to ignore.
Adam smiles at Kaito, "Getting tired, old man?" he questions gently, a soft, almost affectionate voice. He starts to slowly circle Kaito, the tip of his sword circling slowly. His steps are clear on the cobbled stone, as he is fighting in dress shoes. Suddenly, his legs turn slowly and he finally goes on an offensive burst, thrusting and striking towards the sides of Kaito's position. It's intense and aggressive, but he also finally leaves himself open to attack.
The question gets a dismissive grunt from Kaito, the point of the katana aimed for Adam but not quite as sharp as the intent focus the immortal gets from the predictions expert. He doesn't seem in favour of taunts, and when the attack comes, he's ready for it. As ready as he can be. There's a vicious scrape of metal as he fends off the first blow and is forced back to avoid the second, teeth bared and eyes wide as he matches Adam's enthusiasm with his own, fingers locked hard about the hilt of his sword as he waits for an opening.
The sounds of careful breathing, of shoes scraping and shifting on stone, and the more invasive meeting of swords punctuates the silence that otherwise enwraps the park landscape, and there's a hiss from the man that appears older as a sword finds its mark, if not as deep as intended, at the same time his own curves around to strike downwards, to cut through thigh muscle that would only heal should it land.
Adam grip is tight, but practiced. He's not back to the same form he was four hundred years ago, but he's getting damn close and each attack seems to only bring back more and more instinctual remembrance. It's almost like riding a bike. He cuts downwards and strikes Kaito, only to find Kaito's katana find purchase in his leg. It causes him to step back, the blade retreating from his flesh only bringing more blood, but once gone, so too is the wound, almost instantaneously. Suddenly, the only evidence of the strike are bloody and cut trousers. He sucks in an annoyed breath between his teeth, "I just bought those." and suddenly, he's on the attack again.
Crimson droplets now mark the cobbled stones as they do Kaito's clothing, shining wet spots amongst broken twigs and the fall of cherry blossom petals at their feet, and as he grips the katana two-handedly, he ponders, for a moment, this futility. The futility of the moment, anyway, but as of now, his sword shines brighter with blood than Adam's, and there is strength left, as there always is when there's hope.
He's ready by the time Adam brings about his blade, giving more of a vocal reaction as he moves to fend it off, out of the way of where the slender branches of the tree near the bench casts longer shadows as they continue to fight, the heel of his shoe meeting grass as Adam manages to win back enough to territory to force Kaito back— but defense is quickly turned to offense, sword arcing for Adam's throat—
Too slow. The resulting deflection has Kaito stumbling to the side, coat tails trailing as he brings out a hand to instinctively catch himself, palm stinging against stone.
Adam is like a man possessed with little care for his own body, why should he have any? His eyes are ablaze, no longer coy, no longer playful, only full of venom and rage which has nestled in his soul for thirty years in a small room with almost no contact with the outside world. This man has stolen years from him, years he could give, but stolen years nonetheless. At which point, Kaito makes the only move which appears to cause Adam to defend firmly against. When the blade comes near his neck, he suddenly takes a crouching step back and fends off the blade in a back swing and when the old man stumbles, Adam is on him again, bringing the blade down across his body. His jacket billows as the wind from both the spring day and the speed of his attack fly across his body and he attempts to put an end to the old man.
The sound that leaves Kaito's throat is dry, reedy, more anger than pain as Adam's sword slices more flesh than he can account for, a white-hot kind of pain that lashes across his back and brings him back to his knees before he can think about getting up. The sword doesn't fall from his hand, however. Too slow in comparison to the viper-strikes of before, but strong and sinister, Kaito has the sword swinging around from his awkward, low angle, towards Adam's legs as if he could cut the man down. It lacks precision. It also lacks confidence. Dark red begin to stain the light cloth of his coat.
Adam pushes down with his sword as Kaito has his back exposed. Kaito's movements require him to pull his sword out and away and then Kaito's sword swings towards his leg in an awkward angle. All the strength and focus gone from the swing. He pushes it away with his sword contemptuously, but doesn't go in for a killing strike. He only steps away from the old man, out of sword range and simply stands there, waiting to see if he gets up. In a quiet voice, he simply demands, "Yield."
There's a clatter as Kaito's sword meets the ground, but his grip is only loose, not gone, hand clasped over the hilt as he tries to shut out the pain in his back, the withdraw of Adam's blade almost having done more damage than it sliced. Eventually, his gaze wanders up from the gritty ground of cobbled stone, up towards Adam and the distance he's put between them.
The request is a simple one, and gains no response. Unless an intake of breath and an exhalation, a sound of contempt, can count. Partially injured arm kept folded to him as his back throbs pain towards his shoulder, Kaito clasps the hilt of his katana in the other hand, and struggles to get his feet underneath him. His words come muttered in Japanese, breathless. "«I have bent to the will of better men in the past. Never to you.»"
Adam shakes his head at Kaito's response, "Always arrogant…always condescending, even in death." he says and decides to grant Kaito his death as a warrior, rather than simply watching him bleed to death. He comes in striking, upward arcing strikes across Kaito's body to drag his sword along the old man's torso.
Adam's movement triggers response, a surge of last ditch adrenaline through an aged body. Kaito brings his sword back, so that it will be a matter of who is faster, pure and simple. Precognitives will show possibility, ideas, pathways. Probability is about an ultimate certainty, and there is nothing more so than steel cutting through flesh, muscle, bone.
A choking gasp draws through Kaito's throat as Adam's sword finds purchase before he can bring his down. Gravity finally drags steel from the old man's hand, sending the weapon falling heavy. Never to you, he had said. What he should have said was, never again. His eyes widen once, then hood again, and after that there's no where to go but—
Down.
Adam grits his teeth as he pushes down on the old man and once Kaito begins to fall, he pulls his sword away in triumph. But his look of triumph is short lived, the passing adrenaline of gaining revenge for his imprisonment only seems to last a moment. Is it always this way? Does the vengeance never live up to the fantasy? His eyes go blank a moment and there's a sudden and slow dawn of realization upon him. It's over, this part of the missiion at least. He has avenged himself of Hiro and Kaito and could, if he chose, even take out more of his frustration on the Nakamuras. But…there still seems to be a bit of empty to it all. As he studies the dying man, he kneels down by him and puts his hand to his cheek tenderly. He doesn't offer any empty platitudes; he'd do it again, he's not sorry and he feels no regret. That's part of the problem, he doesn't feel much of anything. But he does stroke Kaito's cheek affectionately and offers the old man one last gesture of kindness, "You were my friend once, Kaito. My disciple. And for that, I offer you this. Your daughter will be unharmed, I want you to know that."
Dying comes quick and there's no defiant flinch from Adam's hand, but the look he gets is not warm. Kaito's hand is clasped to his own bleeding chest, holding onto damp fabric there as if he could close it up himself. Losing focus, it might seem that blood loss and shock of pain will mean Adam's words go missed, but he meets his eyes sharply.
"Kensei," he hisses out, a hand going out to abruptly grip on to Adam's arm, defiance in bony knuckles that go white from the effort. "«End it»." Two-worded advice, ambiguous at best, and he doesn't mean himself - that end is quickly coming, his grip slackening as he fades into unconsciousness on the knowledge, the security, that while he failed as the sentinel, he didn't as a father. Not yet.
Adam tilts his head, he could mean many things, but he chooses to believe that he means he should end the Company and Pinehearst and the whole damned thing. He lets go of Kaito and stands. He reaches down and tears off a piece of Kaito's shirt and uses that to wipe off the blood from his sword. He looks up towards Huruma and as he slides his sword slowly back into his scabbard, he says, "Well, I suppose we're finished here."
Even as he lies there dying, that subtle anger and defiance seeping through, a wave of what might be relief floods his mind- contentment, if named anything else. A calm death, in those final few seconds. Whether or not Huruma does this for the old man's benefit or the benefit of Irony remains to be seen.
"…so it would seem." She answers, voice low and rather curt in its delivery.
Adam nods a bit and walks over to Huruma. For a brief moment he pulls her down into a kiss, his passion running a bit hot after the sword fight, "We can return to New York now, our mission is done here after I release the girl." Afterwards, he says, "Well…" looking around, "That's that. Let's get out of here." and makes his way away from the park, burying some of his past frustration and vengeance on the cobble stone of the pretty, but empty park. He glances back over his shoulder towards Kaito's dead or just about dead body, then back to Huruma, "He fought pretty well for an old guy."