320/Coffee and the Wrath of Ao-chan

Coffee and the Wrath of Ao-chan
Date of Scene:	20 August 2015
Location:	Uminari City - Midori-Ya Cafe
Synopsis:	Hannah meets Mamoru for coffee. Ao-chan is not happy about this.
Cast of Characters:	Hannah Sharpe, Mamoru Chiba

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Hannah Sharpe has posed:
It's morning time at the Midori-ya, and Hannah Sharpe is attempting to enjoy her coffee. Ostensibly she's bench-warming for her club due to health reasons. And it shows: oddly pale, her breath far too heavy for someone so physically fit, and her hands trembling. It's worrisome enough that the staff at the cafe have checked on her multiple times, only Boris' eventual growling warding them off aside from refills on coffee.

The fluffy dog puts his head in her lap, and one shakey hand reaches down to rub his ears. He whines, worry in those big blue doggie eyes.

"I'm worried about you." He speaks mentally to the girl. She tries a smile, weak and brittle.

"I can endure this much."

There's a frustrated woof from the dog as he curls up under the table.

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
Morning in the Midori-ya, and despite his usual habit of going to Crown for coffee, Mamoru's not there, he's here, pushing the door open. It's a much less dramatic entrance than it was at the bake sale, but the sun still casts his face in shadow, still gives his silhouette a corona.

He was walking in.

Hannah's presence, and the absurd pain she's in both physically and emotionally, are like a beacon: his gaze zeroes in on her and Boris, and face setting, he stalks over and pulls out a chair. There is a brief acknowledgement of Boris in the way of reaching down to scruff at his head in greeting, but the bulk of his focus is on the shaky girl herself.

"I was," he says without preamble, "going to get you some breakfast here and take it to the hospital. You weren't supposed to beat me here. What are you doing vertical, you idiot?"

Hannah Sharpe has posed:
Boris, for his part, gives a doggie ruff and little nod. He hops up onto the seat beside Mamoru, doggie-glaring at Hannah. Wince. The double-pronged attack is harsh!

Sip. She tries to recover, and not wilt amidst her own exhaustion, pain, Mamoru's words, and her own Familiar's irritation.

"Time is money, Chiba-kun. Or in my case, progress. I have a few interesting developments to follow up on, so I can hardly waste time in a hospital over a few minor pains." Comes the girl a little petulently. Boris just face-paws. The look of the long-suffering is there. He knows perhaps better than she does the condition she's in.

Hannah's face softens.

"...You really are too soft-hearted for your own good. Anyone else would probably leave me to rot right now."

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
Mamoru exchanges a look with Boris, and then leans forward and puts his elbows on the table, propping his chin on one fist and giving Hannah the single most unimpressed look since the incredibly flat one he gave Runealy last night.

"You keep saying that, but I like having friends too much to lose them to their own poor life choices," he tells the girl matter-of-factly, voice low. It gets lower still, and fierce, and he drops his hand and leans further across the table, both arms crossed in front of him.

"You yell at me for risking my life, but you're literally killing yourself, you've gotten increasingly unstable, you're taking chances you can't afford -- none of us can afford! -- and the the only thing keeping me from actively trying to stage some kind of intervention with the other people who care about you is the fact that you'll just cut us all out and step up your game." It's quick, it's quiet, it's got fear in it -- but it's fear for her. He never really has fear for himself, does he? It's not built in to him, it's not part of his configuration.

Knowing it's stupid, knowing it's throwing good energy after bad, knowing she's just going to spend the money on drugs and cigarettes and booze, Mamoru reaches across the table, hand snaking out to try to take hers.

"I don't want you in pain; it hurts. And I'm not the only one besides yourself that this is hurting. I want to see you get better. I want to see your fierce smile when you fight and mean it, when you fight with your heart and your head instead of your rage and this false and poisoned strength you're building. Let me help. Let me get you help. Please."

Hannah Sharpe has posed:
"Poor life choices? Killing me? This is what we call a 'rough spot' in research! True, I have to force that kind of magical throughput into my body to sustain it thanks to /this/!" Frustration and bitterness creeps into her low voice as she whispers to Mamoru. Her linker core appears, the emerald green core of her soul. All of her emotions, her ambition, her love for the people of the world, her hatred for the world itself, her love for Ao and her friends...it's all distorted, twisted by the horrible blackness encircling it, the taint of Grief Seeds and her own darkness shocking it through with black. The mere feeling is like standing next to a youma, or even a Witch. The little ball dissappears right back into her body.

"A sub-par mage like me has to either consign themselves to mediocrity, or rely on a good pair of partners and a lot of risk to fulfill their dreams. I am no hero, no natural-born genius with a high-quality linker core or some inborn destiny to...hah...'fight evil'. No, just a lucky little girl who has the tiniest of sparks. Mamoru. I will keep on fanning that spark until it becomes a funeral pyre for everything I hate about this world. Until I can see a bright dawn ahead of me, with you, with the Puella Magi, with Ao, with Suzuki, with all the innocent people in this world. If that means I have to bleed, to suffer, to risk burning out, fine! Anything is better than just letting things remain the way they are now! How can you stand it!? Doesn't it make you angry, how we all have to hurt and suffer in this world!?" She's leaned over, his outreaching hand grasped and squeezed hard forehead nearly touching his. She's gasping for breath, barely able to stand, but her hands are cold and like iron.

'I don't want you in pain'. Hannah trembles. A tear rolls down her cheek.

"...Stop it! I...I need to do this! If not, then I cannot fix the Puella, Mamoru! Those beautiful, fierce girls are going to burn themselves out and die! I have to understand Witches and Puella no matter the cost! So...so just stop hurting for me! Please! Someone like you deserves to shine!" She growls out, hatred, external and internal warring with friendship and love, its spark growing dimmer all the time.

She stops trembling, and ambition reasserts itself. "...Even if I end up dead, then meeting my goals is more than enough. I will see this world made /RIGHT/!"

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
Hannah spills it all, defensive and angry and still hurting, and hurting worse and worse, but this time Mamoru's prepared for the onslaught of feelings and wretched pain and hate, for the fury and ambition. He lets her hispering rage wash over him, her bitter scorn for herself, and he holds her hand tightly throughout -- through her shredded heart and through the view of the sickening wrongness that permeates her soul, choking it and cutting it.

She asks him how he stands it; she demands to know if it makes him angry; she starts to cry and he bridges that gap, touching his forehead to hers and not caring who sees, not caring who's in the bakery. His free hand comes up to wipe the tear from her cheek, warm and solid and insistently grounding.

"If you take away that which makes a person shine, Hannah-chan," he whispers very quietly, "they no longer shine. You won't see this world made right if you die. You won't know it worked if you die. You'll do the opposite of making the world better if you turn into what you started out fighting -- and you're well on your way. There are better ways to fan that spark, to make it a raging inferno. Hate and despair are neither effective nor long-term."

His own grip is iron now, his other hand still on her face, his forehead still on hers, his eyes closed. And there is a brief, intense burst of his power, a blast of fresh air into lungs choked with smoke, a flash of brilliant, burning sunshine into the remnant of a collapsed house when the cellar door is lifted from the scorched floorboards. What comes with it is quiet, distant pain, aching loneliness, the horror of being very small and very lost and never, ever being found. What comes with it is ice and darkness and locks, cold logic and methodical but meaningless ambition, striving for an unnamed and unidentified goal. What comes with it is learning not to touch because pain without context can shatter, is learning to remain uninvolved, is learning to put up the strongest of walls, wear the most impenetrable of masks.

What comes with it is hidden things, and the only thing that sustained his humanity: finally, a memory of that faceless princess, made of soft and silver light, holding his small hand in the darkness, making sure there was love, was company, even throughout the emptiness and cold desolation.

What comes with it is the breaking dawn of terrified young bravery linked to a fascinatingly loving and determined heart.

What comes with it is the faintest of whispers, a young girl's voice: 'everyone needs a friend to talk to, even if they're a jerk'.

This is in a split second, it's all in an eyeblink and then Mamoru's leaning back, voice thick as he says, "I won't stop. Stopping isn't an option."

Hannah Sharpe has posed:
All of that anger and wrath melts away at the touch to her forehead. The warmth of a friend, someone who still cares despite all she's done and doing. She tries to pull away, but can't. Her arms are too weak, barely able to hold a coffee cup.

Her mouth opens, another flash of anger in her eyes.

"No! I...I am not like /them/!" she replies, swift and sharp. She falls back, gasping for breath. Her heart aches more than her body.

A shudder runs through her, and she can't even keep her face pointed at the young man. The nightmare from last night comes back to her vividly.

Her hands clench at the touch, losing her strength as she listens. She can barely think, a raging headache assaulting her, tanned skin a shade more pale.

"What else do I have!? Anger and ambition and frustration have always been the things driving me! What other kind of strength could I possibly use without finding more Lost Logia!?" She mutters, a little bitter, though it seems increasingly aimed inwards.

And then that burst hits her. She clings to it, devours it ravenously. A little gasp, and she's breathless. Sightless eyes stare hard into Mamoru. Then those weak hands reach for his shoulders to grasp, to squeeze, and try to get at more of that delicious, wonderful power within! But she's far too weak to be able to do so right now, and her Device certainly isn't cooperating. Even as she's uplifted, the corruption in her soul has her eyes turning hungry and dark.

Mamoru's old pain assaults her, and the hunger vanishes. A Princess, so warm and graceful, a young girl's voice, and then reality. She slumps back.

"You...you endured all of that!?" She whispers, eyes bright, and her own troubles forgotten.

A small part of her wants to punch that princess in the face for the torment in this boy's dreams, and the other to hug her for being there in spirit. Either way, she's going to drag them right into this man's arms.

"Neither can I. But...you are right. I really will end up dead if I keep using this thing recklessly. I need to..." Control. She needs control, and strength.

How could she even help her friend if she can't do that much?

Slowly, she stands up.

"I need to get to work. The lady of your dreams will not wait for you, and my dreams need to be complete. I /will/ see this world shine! Thank you, Mamoru!" She adds, before walking away, slowly and painfully. Despite her weakness, it seems Mamoru's renewed her determination. It's better than the despair she was starting to fall into. But once again, his message seems to have gotten twisted up in her mind.

She gets about half way to the door before Ao Karina stomps in, scowling, and slaps her right in the face. A red handprint sits on the stunned girl's cheek. The entire cafe turns to look.

"IDIOT! Why are you out of bed!? You should be resting! You are /hurt/! Do you know how worried I was!?" Screams Ao, the ill girl gasping and then hugging her friend tight. Hannah wobbles, light headed, and passes out with a muttered 'sorry'. Ao eeps, and then she's looking to Mamoru.

"We need to get her back into the hospital!" She's barely keeping Hannah in her arms.