Hana straightens up, pushes herself to her feet in sullen silence. As if chewing on his words, she finally answers.

"You're right. I intend to die with blade in hand."

A blade. She won't go flailing with teeth, nails, or fists.

A blade is what makes her human.

She picks up her pickaxe, beginning to hammer away at the ore vein with renewed vigor. Her efforts are more intense now than when they quit. Renewed resolve. Perhaps their rest had helped.

"Y'know, Inoue... some say that there are as many types of pokemon as there are pokemon in the world-- which means we'll need a hell of a lot of ore, eh?"

She gives him a wry smirk.

"Oh, you want my Truth? Why didn't ya say so?"

She laughs at her own joke, pretending she hadn't known this whole time, hadn't led him along like she was a cat on the prowl playing with her newfound prey. She'd been having fun, jovial as she was evasive, but very suddenly she grew serious.

Stonefaced, she leaned in and looked him unblinking in the eyes.

"I know what it's like to have everything taken from you. Reduced to something less than human. An animal, fightin' for your life. Powerless to do anything but scratch, and bite, and fight for your very life with everything you have. You're stronger then, stronger than you even know.

"And that's my Truth, that's why I fight. Strength. Because the strong survive. The weak die. And, I..."

She looks distant suddenly, as if remembering something in a wistful haze. Her eyes fall to the distant wall, unable to meet his eyes any longer.

"I won't ever let that happen again."

She smiles at his intensity. There is something sagely about it, almost innocent, though she knows he is anything but. She sets the waterskin aside and gives him her full attention.

"Recency."

The word doesn't mean anything on its own, so she waits, then adds a little to it.

"The higher-ups gave us a lotta quizzes when they were ushering us through training. Guess I'm still thinkin' of those questions. Every one you'd bubble in the answer: True, or False?"

She lets out a sigh, leaning back and resting on the rock.

"If only life was that simple, eh?"

She flashes him a grin as he answers by-the-book. Something in her eyes tells him he doesn't quite agree with that point, but she chooses not to argue with him.

Instead, she answers in the form of a riddle.

"Well, I'd say it's impossible to define something without its opposite. You want Truth in contrast to what? Falsehood? Fiction? Ideals?

She takes another sip of her waterskin to punctuate her response, proud of her non-answer.

"Sure, sure. I've got the make in mind, actually. Been thinkin' about this sword for a while, just never had enough cash to make the pursuit worthwhile. Certain swords need a certain hand, don't they?"

She looks the woman up and down.

She had heard things, on the smolive vine.

Certain things about the forgemaster, and her persuasions. You always found the sweetest gossip at the bottom of a bottle of sake, she considered. And the man she'd overheard had downed two completely, and had been well on his way to the bottom of his third when she heard this juicy bit.

"Not just deft, or adept, but... well, not to spill the sinistea, but I've heard the kinds of things you get up to in your spare time."

She winks, and offers a breathless whisper, forming the words on her lips:

'Me too'.

She strikes the ore vein in front of her over and over. Little nuggets pile up at her feet, but she still keeps at it. Her answer doesn't come for a while, til long after he probably though she'd ignored him. As she sets down her pickaxe, takes a long swig from the waterskin at her hip, and catches her breath...

"... Well, two's a good number. Yin, yang, you know. And three is pretty sacred, I hear. There's five elements. Seven days in a week. And what about pokemon types, you know how many of those there are?"

She grins, breathlessly. The workout is more intense than swordplay. She's unused to this, but all the same, it isn't enough to dim her spirits. She's as evasive as ever.

Swords arc out in front of her, leaving her grasp and slicing through the winds of their own volition.

One finds its way to the breloom in her way. The other, the pokemon's master. Montgomery James, deputy of Dewford. Hana grins as he falters, and even wider when his pokemon is felled by her blade.

Amid the storm, his words come like a whisper. Nearly drowned out by the wind and rain, she latches onto every word eagerly, oblivious to the wreckage of the city around them. Her eyes focus only on his lips, the bitter sentiment that lingers there.

"Hah! Love it when a man gets rough!"

She roars back in defiance.

The man reminds her of the sheriff. Fitting, for Navidson's deputy. The man's just as willful as he is. Just as stupid. But is he blind enough to sense like Navy is, to lose himself in the midst of battle and overpower her? She meets his eyes, searching for the steel that would cut clean through her--

A rising cough tears her mind away, suddenly made aware of an irritating numbness in her chest. Familiar, cloying, bitter as it rises up her throat and makes it hard to swallow. Likely the breloom's lingering powder. Her breath shudders, and she suddenly feels something hot and sticky rolling down her arm. She's pulled away from the heat of battle just enough to recognize the chain embedded in her shoulder, though she does not feel it.

The paralyzing powder is merciful, she thinks.

She reaches out with her good hand to catch her sword just in time for the man to pull the trigger again. Her doublade knocks the second chain aside, and she laughs. She readies herself to respond before he can reload again, but a light catches her eyes.

She looks up to the clouds, where the Origin Pulse breaks through to bright blue skies above. A break in the storm. Nature in conflict with itself. The power of gods unleashed against one another for the fate of this wretched city, a ruined city hardly worth all the bloodshed.

League, Rocket, they are just playthings, she thinks suddenly. Neglected toys, that the gods will deign to capsize and torment when they get bored. Dozens, perhaps hundreds have been washed out to sea by now. Cillian Quinn will never save them all. Neither will Navy.

Her shadow is cast across the deck like a long spear behind her, across the deck of a boat that should, by all rights, have been smashed across a jutting rock in the middle of this storm and sunk along with the rest. It will in time, given the chance. But not yet. Both of them are simply too small, too unimportant, for the gods to pay them any mind. They quibble amongst themselves, giving her this moment of self-indulgence.

She looks back down to the man, exchanging with him an expression of feigned pity. Then she sinks into the deck, into the shadow cast by Rayquaza's growing light.

A sword appears behind the deputy moments later, pressed to his neck. The tossing and turning of the deck threatens to slit his throat, but she holds her blade steady, does not cut deep, but just enough that he can feel a drop of blood trickle downward even amidst the rain. A hand grasps firmly on his shoulder, and she presses his wounded leg into the deck to keep him there.

Then Hana whispers in his ear, slow and deliberate so that even amid the storm he can hang on to every last word.

"Threats comes easy, deputy. Following through on those, less so. But, no. I don't think you'll kill me. Not today. And, well. As for the other part..."

She gazes out, at shattered white walls, a near-sunken cityscape, crowds amid the rising waters. Even as they watch, heads are washed under the waves and don't resurface. Others, still not yet washed out to sea, are drowned in the bombs of an Origin Pulse. All of that is rendered a backdrop to the chaos of battle, set aside as an inevitability as factions squabble over the city, or whatever is left of it.

Most pay it no heed at all.

"How many civilians do you think you could've saved if you hadn't been distracted here by our little duel? One? Two? Ten?"

She laughs, her voice ringing cold and cruel in his ear.

"Do you think, just cause you didn't pull the trigger yourself, their blood is any less on your hands? Kyogre, it's rabid. Out of control. It ain't on your side, just like it ain't on ours. But your superiors, they sure knew it was headed this way. Sure as hell didn't come with search and rescue in mind, either. Went in guns blazing, right behind it. All it was was pretext: invade, and conquer."

She pauses, indulgent, savoring the irony. Just the way he talks and carries himself, she knows he thinks he's made the right choice. He's doing the right thing here, coming to this battlefield under this banner. But that look in his eye, it ain't the battle-forged steel of the sheriff. It wavers, if only just. He's still trying to prove to himself that this was the right decision.

She seizes on that.

"Maybe you've got a thing against killing civilians, but what about the League, hm? D'you think they care?"

A brief flash of light, and her doublade clashes against steel instead of Montgomery James's flesh. Hungry for blood, the screech of metal on metal sounds like a despairing scream, shunting Lydia Magnusson's robotic paradox into the line of fire from Shred's solar beam.

It falls summarily.

The woman herself hardly notices.

All her attention is focused on the sheriff, Navy.

The man had bested her twice over. Humiliated her-- spared her, when she should have been cut down. Added to that the way Melody Miro spoke of him, and her blood had been brought to a boil.

A life for a life.

I'll drag you to hell myself and make that fucking cunt pay.

For Hideyoshi!

She rounds on the sheriff in front of her, still on the edge of the boat, looking up at the Boundless. Lost in thought about something, though it was anyone's guess what.

One swift strike, and--

The world seems to upend itself (courtesy illeana reyes's Palkia), and Hana feels a sudden sense of vertigo. She does her best to swallow it down, though her sword lashes out in the wrong direction, knocking a misplaced chain-shot away. Immediately, eyes lock on the culprit. For some reason the surprise in his eyes pisses her off, though she doesn't have the lucidity to say why.

She turns back to face the sheriff, but in that split second he was lost. Swept out to sea, more than like, lost to the chaos of the sea and battle alike. She turns back to the deputy and narrows her eyes, footing even with the deck of the ship even though it tilts wildly from side to side. Kyogre could cause the sea to thrash and rage all it liked, but til this ship was sunk, she would maintain her footing.

She was still more at home at sea than not, even after all these years.

And so she rounds on the deputy as he readies another shot, readying her blade...

"Dogs... I fucking hate dogs..."

She glowers at the deputy.

A dog, who'd accept a chain around his neck so long as he was fed. He made his living off hunting people like her, a breed alike with Navy, and Hana despised it. Loyalty at all costs, no matter the cause for which they were fighting... and that meant they all had their friends -- their pack -- to aid them.

"Doin' whatever the hands that feed ya say, even killing civilians. Tell me, 'deputy', what part of this is justice? What part of this is upholdin' the law?

In truth, she doesn't care about any of that. But this man does. Should, if he's one of Navy's boys. It would sow doubt, which is all she cared about.

Even so, it wouldn't change the outcome of this fight. There was no chance at diplomacy now. That was surrendered the moment he pulled the trigger the first time. Perhaps ever since he passed through those broken white walls. Or, maybe, the moment he picked up the badge.

Cillian Quinn's pleas for League and Rocket alike to save the people are long forgotten.

"Worst part is? You ain't even the alpha!"

She attempts to crack a wry grin. In the midst of the storm amid a crack of lightning, she looks nearly a wild animal herself, fanged smile flashing in the dark.

"C'mon then, shoot me!"

As soon as she says the word 'shoot', Montgomery's finger clicks the trigger.

She leaps forward, second blade returned to her hand just in time to raise her into the air, striking down in the shape of an 'X' with an aerial ace centered on the man's neck.

The cloud of spores won't save him. Neither will the chain. Even if he hits her, she could not feel it in this state. Adrenaline pumping, her heartbeat pumping molten blood through her brain, she focuses solely on her objective--

The deputy, soon departed, and the look of anguish and shame in Navy's eyes as he learned the news.

The reputation of the blacksmith who tended the Iron Lady Forge preceded herself. Hana had had the honor to hold one of her works once, and she had envied it ever since. Nothing a meager sellsword could afford, of course. Not back then. She had thrown out the possibility almost immediately the moment she had thought it, but now...

"You offer any, uh... discounts?"

She gives the woman her cutest smile, in an attempt to charm her.

It was a trick that tended to only work on men, but you'd be surprised. She'd managed to sail halfway across the sea on nothing but a gorgeous smile and sheer determination before. Jumping between different ships, using all the charm she had in her, no coin to her name. And there weren't all men on those crews. She'd bummed some great meals that way, too. Her favorite was drunken older men at ramen bars, too impaired for their own good. And once, even, in a brothel...

"I'm good for it, if you'll indulge me. Just... you offer a payment plan, don't'cha?"

Hana sizes him up again, surprised. The man's reputation as a brutal, ruthless killer who never asked questions is put into stark relief just then. She looks at him as if considering him for the first time. She may have given him a real answer herself in that moment, had she not been on camera for all to see.

She's thankful for whatever higher-up insisted upon them.

"S'pose the gods may care. Been a lot more active as late."

Hana gives him a grin and bums a smoke, taking a long drag before she responds with a cloud of smoke.

"Hey, thanks. Need all the support I can get. Next time, gimme a good spar, eh?"

She nods to the legendary pokemon, who shifts from its giant sword shape to its regular lumbering humanoid one. An innocent eye darts between them both, back to its meek and unassuming personality.

"You gonna use that sword?"

No way, she thinks. It's taller than he is.

Exhaustion does not become her. She feels a zombie, a dead woman walking. Though, no matter how tired she may be, she dare not let it show on her face.

She returns to the Underboss's office, bruises and cuts all over her body all she has to show from her efforts -- two duels, and a daring escape from a member of the Elite Four's prison cell.

She'd been sent to assassinate him, however.

"Yo, Harbie. Long time no see."

She greets Cillian Quinn with a wide smile.

She was not a defector. There was sick sense of pride in that. The man had likely thought she was. That, or dead, considering the length of her absence. But Navy had refused to kill her. Instead, he had locked her up, til an assault on Dewford had led to a jailbreak.

And so she had returned.

"Brought ya somethin' nice. Found it on the way-- you'll have to excuse me if there's some missing."

She places a bottle on the table, so large it obscures her face from where he's sitting. A gigantic, oversized bottle of sake -- 8 lbs give or take, to make up for the weight of the head she was sent to claim.

That was what he'd have to settle for. An Elite Four member's head was loath to part from its body.

The legendary pokemon pools lazily beneath the nut on the ground. Hana touches the tip of her sword to it, offering it the metal to remake its body. It congeals, and the metal is taken into it. The pokemon rises from the mercury puddle on the ground, remembering the shape of the sword as it remakes its body. A sword as tall as she is, feather-light.

The hilt blinks, surprised, as it glances up at her gratefully.

"Now you look a real weapon, eh?"

She winks, and only then does she finally turn to Hitoshi. His question seems to amuse her, smile growing wider all the while.

"I breathe so I can live, of course! And I live and breathe Rocket, rest assured!"

She side-eyes the cameras, intrigued at the prospect that this was all being recorded. For some reason, she never thought it would be, but it doesn't bother her one bit.

Let them watch.

Anything she had to hide was swept out to sea a long time ago...

"You value your reasons, Inoue? When your master tells you to kill, do you ask him 'why?' before you deliver their heads?"

EXCHANGING MP

THANK YOU FOR YOUR CONTRIBUTIONS!

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EXCHANGING: 250 MP FOR SHADOW SLUDGE
250 MP FOR CRYSTABLOOM[break]

CURRENT TOTAL MP: 80/580