Motoyoshi, Kazumi, youngest of Ketsurui-Motoyoshi Katsuko's brood with Kage, Yaichiro spoke up. "Doors and Corners," her voice, mature, a little deep, but entirely professional seemed to echo Kazue a little. A friend of hers called her overly dramatic at times, Kazumi sort of agreed with that assumption. Especially during game night. Or in general when the need or whim arose. The VR simulation of her parents, soon-to-be step-mother Eri, firey aunt Sui, the old man urging her sister on, and Auntie Kazue. It was like a spectator sport for them. Yet they also seemed intent on offering support if they could. Still, the Analyst kept to just using her simulated voice-over suddenly popping up. It was like she was stepping into the adult's conversation and trying to make a child's observation.
But her words were a warning. One that she felt was needed. This was her job. Sniff out the enemy, sift through data, hack, research, and put it all into action or pass it off to others. She was more in the technical field, yet loved to apply such skills into the more personal, visceral fields of plucking at knots and strings that were people. Unravel them, and you had the upper hand. Well, most of the time. Her palms itched in real life.
The visible need etched on her features at wanting a crack at the Akuro III's systems. Break them down, disable or, turn them on the enemy and dig through its datastores with a fervor borne of one with a mind for uncovering secrets and turning them into weapons or shields.
Emotion didn't factor into it like some of the old folks. They knew Kiyoko in a way she never would. Interacted with her. All the Kohosei had were audiovisual files and the words of people like her parents, Taro, Sui, and the other founders.
Kazumi had always been that kind of girl who liked to poke and prod at her targets in an indirect manner. Using those real-world responses versus just relying on a psyche profile on PANTHEON or the private, and secure networks she utilized daily. It was always looking for that one chink in the armor along the dragon's belly. So hidden, yet there, ready to be pierced and fell the beast. If that didn't work, she'd continue to pluck at her knots, unravel more, and try again from a different approach. The dance of information and its use. Right now Kazumi was learning. Trying to untangle Kiyoko's strings. The obviousness of her playing, luring, or baiting them sent up red flags for her.
That was her advice. Hidden enemies, turning that metaphorical corner only to find yourself face to face with something you were not prepared for. Opening that door only to find someone on the other side and expecting you, though perhaps not exactly who or what you expect or want to be there.
But for her, it meant so much more. Would the oldest, disowned sibling just be there screwing with them? Wearing them down? Distracting? The woman could've been doing this for those obvious reasons yet it didn't sit right with her.
It felt more like Kiyoko was stalling for time. Preparing something to take out the insertion team and Kaoru. On the other end of the spectrum, it could be Kiyoko was using the opportunity to make her escape. Tangle up her sister, the soldiers, and disappear. If during that time she could kill two birds with one stone, Kazumi felt she would. Save her skin, kill the heir, make her intentions known and send a message. Kiyoko would keep coming. Picking them off one at a time. Let that implication set in. Using the Akuro as the grave marker and as symbolism. Here was the Motoyoshi's pride, blood, and bone, dead, the ship forever stained if it were retaken. Forever a memory of their failure. And in the process whatever work the upper echelons of the clan had slaved over to repair their respect, honor, and presence amongst the other members of the Yamataian peerage be ground into dust once more. All if the woman wriggled through their grasp.
A means of mocking them in the process. Then on to the next. Moving up the ladder one member at a time. Sewing the seeds of discontent, paranoia, and despair. One life at a time until only those closest remained and then snip. The red thread of fate cut for each and everyone until only her mother remained. Alone, in the dark. The candle flame being snuffed out without fanfare. Her clan's death rattle come and gone.
It is what she would do if in Kiyoko's shoes. Ditch the ship, return to the shadows and come from another angle while dangling for a twofer.
Kiyoko was cruel, sadistic, but she wasn't stupid. With or without support, the youngest sister just felt something was coming. Even a cornered, rabid animal could be vicious to face. Unpredictable in its actions to those unfamiliar with how they ticked. Whether her assumptions were right, or wrong, she voiced the same opinion again.
"That's how she'll get them. If they aren't careful. One wrong turn is all it takes." a notable amount of concern laced her call with a healthy dose of wariness, just near the end. Kazumi let unseen eyes wander over to Taro, sending him her theories, possible predictions, and feelings on the matter. How she'd do things. How Kiyoko would do things. Would the two overlap in some ways? None?
He'd seemed to take an interest in their development, her eldest sibling, her middle, and herself. Even if he could be a bit insufferable, he at least listened to her at times. Offer advice in his usual ways. Point out the holes and how to patch them. Build her up, help her improve, and sharpen.
Even a slight comment, acknowledgment of the concerns she raised to him would be enough to assuage her fears just a little. Kazumi, forever thinking, even when she wasn't wearing her armor, her uniform. When vulnerable off duty. There was always a puzzle to be solved for her. A person, place, or thing to be laid bare in her mind. Kiyoko, at least for the moment had top priority. And yet she felt as if she was merely scratching the surface of this stain on her family with which she shared blood with.
But... her mind turned over. The gears of curiosity spinning. Just what had driven the woman to such extremes? With a wave of an imaginary hand, Kazumi let the question be compartmentalized in a part of her mind for further contemplating later. This was the here. The now. And damn it felt like this was all walking on eggshells, on a tightrope or the razor's edge. The scale could tip either way. And that sent a shudder through her in the real.