Three years…
It had been almost three years since Hatsya last seriously contemplated the thought of taking someone's life; more specifically killing a General by the name of Benitoite. There had been some unfortunate mishaps shortly after she had been conscripted into this war. However, it wasn’t until after the incident where he had summoned her into the Dark Kingdom whilst it was under attack when things changed. The White Moon senshi and their Knights had invaded the Negaverse stronghold, with the help of some hooded figure. Unfortunately, among them was a prince who had a power that seemed to go unmatched.
Nothing could have prepared her for the defining moment that, on one hand, could have saved everyone from the terrifyingly sharp hail that descended upon the agents as they sought shelter from the storm he created. But haphazard plans rarely work out the way one intends them to. Benitoite knew what her magic could do, and so, to prevent his fellow officers from sustaining further injury, he summoned Hatsya to him without second thought. His spur of the moment idea was to teleport her in front of Castor, so she could use her swords to silence his magic, but that plan was not without flaws and ultimately left them both stranded in the open.
Multiple lacerations, broken bones and a concussion. “She’s lucky” they said…
Luck… There was nothing lucky about what happened. Hatsya hadn’t even been there for the start of the fight, she had been pulled into it unwillingly. The only thing fortunate about the outcome was that she was still alive and that the hail stones didn’t crack her skull open or sever her spine.
It had been that one moment had changed her entire life.
The time she had spent in the hospital was shortened, but only slightly, because of the fact she was a senshi and thus her lacerations healed quicker than normal. However, her backside and leg remained littered with scars, constant memories of the incident that robbed her of a life spent and dreams she had held on to.
Fencing had been her passion in life. With well over a decade spent training and teaching others, it was all for naught. “I’m sorry, it’s likely she will never hold a sword again” they said. With two torn ligaments that had to be surgically repaired and a fractured scapula, the likelihood of a full recovery was slim to none.
But that was unacceptable. And so, she bit through the agonizing pain while undergoing physical therapy all the while using the hatred and anger she felt towards General Benitoite for robbing her of her future as fuel to keep pushing forward. To prove the doctors wrong and reclaiming all she had worked so hard for.
Not once did he check in on her.
At first it bothered her in a way that may have seemed unreasonable but thinking on it now it was in fact a blessing in disguise because for a time she was free. Months turned into a year which bled into the next, and as time rolled on the resentment she felt ebbed into nothing more than mild contemptment. That is, so long as she didn’t catch a glimpse of the scars that littered her back side.
Life had finally fell into what she use to consider normalcy; school, work and fencing. A comfortable routine without the need or desire to power up. But that was not meant to last it seemed.
Three months ago, just before the holiday season was set to begin, Benitoite reappeared in her life once more and with him he brought along the message that she had spent enough time on her own and that it was time to reprise her role in the Negaverse once more. There was to be a gathering of agents in an uncharted part of the Rift and she was required to attend...
The blatant disrespect she showed Benitoite in front of his superiors was enough to have got her punished for insubordination yet no consequences befell her, not yet anyway. Then again what more could they do beyond what had already been done by bringing her to a portion of the Rift where not even a General Sovereign could control the feral youma that roamed the broken city, a place that still haunted her unguarded dreams.
She had been ordered to remain close to the General ‘for her safety’ which she was reluctant to obey had it not of been for a few encouraging words from two half youma who had picked up on her ire. Had the opportunity presented itself, Hatsya was prepared to act despite the other agents that were in attendance. If one of those youma attacked, she was more than willing to use her magic on the General and offer him as a sacrificial lamb so she could get away. After-all he had summoned her to be a decoy for him did he not?
Unfortunately she was not afforded such a chance to follow through with her plan and though she made it out alive, Hatsya was not unscathed. Thankfully the severity of her injuries were not as severe as the last time she was in this forsaken place. Nonetheless, her desire to be rid of the general remained unquenched.
Revenge… for robbing her of her freedom. For pulling her into a war she never wanted to be a part of. For abandoning her, allowing her to slip through the cracks. For treating her like a puppet and force her to do as he said as if she had no thought or mind of her own.
At this point she would gladly accept death if it meant bringing him down with her. And so, Hatsya sat atop a short stack of wooden pallets, in her lap was a rapier; a gift once given to her by her grandfather after she won her first fencing tournament. With a sharpening stone in one hand, she ran it down the length of her blade while mentally playing out the fight that was to come, as soon as Benitoite arrived she would teach him the true meaning of swordplay...
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Please don't judge OOCly this is an approved plot spanning 3 years and more will be revealed as the arc continues
