Courtroom Drama

[mix_it_up]

It wouldn't have been a lie to say that Asami was too busy to follow the coverage of the Equalist trials. All things considered, the fate of its former corporate head was the least of Future Industries' worries. If it weren't for the market power of the SatoMobile, any chance of the company's survival would have been crushed. As it is, the words she's hearing are "dim" and "uncertain." It probably doesn't help things that the brilliant captain of industry's successor is his "rebellious" teenage daughter.

("Rebellious" was their word. As if she'd done things like turned up her music too loud. Or run away from home.)

Still, she'd been told what was coming. So even as she worked to repair her father's broken industry, Asami did listen to the radio. Read the United Daily News. Made notes to herself and counted off the days and tried to remember to breathe while she did it. She tried to ignore the sudden strikes of terror, reminding herself that all she had to do was walk into a room and tell the truth. That it was all she was supposed to do. It should be simple, but after the last few months, she knew there wasn't much chance of that.

When the day comes, it's not really a surprise the hall is more packed with press than usual. Everyone in the city would want to hear Hiroshi Sato's daughter accuse him of trying to murder her. She'd put on a dark red skirt and black tunic, tall black boots, and her jacket with Future Industries' logo stitched into the shoulders. Maybe as a message to the press, or to her father – it's the first time she'd see him since that day.

Or maybe it would just be enough to disguise how close she was to shaking as she walked through the room, eyes looking straight ahead, at a point above the specially-appointed commissioners who had taken the places of the Council for these trials. She's too nervous to look to her friends, and feels sick as she passes the table where she knew her father was sitting, even if she doesn't spare him even the smallest bit of her gaze. Asami takes a seat behind the prosecutor's table, but it seems like no time had passed at all before her name is being called out, and she's asked to a seat up near the front.

And then –

If anything, she couldn't have expected the monotony of it. Despite that she somehow felt more terrified in this moment than she had any time in the last few months, and that by all accounts the events she was testifying to weren't exactly boring, for most of the day, they were things everyone had already heard. She manages to think about everything but the questions she was actually answering – did she sound bored? Was she sitting up straight? Did she not sound convincing if she sounded bored? Is that the same person coughing in the back every time?

Yet she manages to get through most of it without stammering or misunderstanding or needing to repeat herself. The prosecutor gives her a pat on the back during the break, which she supposes was a good sign. But if she'd thought the weight of everyone's eyes on her was intense in the morning, it's nothing compared to the afternoon, when the prosecutor finally reached her questions concerning the final day of the revolution.

Now, Asami doesn't worry about sounding bored. Maybe it's because she hadn't really talked it out much with anyone aside from the police before this moment (she knew Bolin had told the others the gist of it, and in the aftermath, there had never been any point when she really wanted to relive this), but each question draws a vivid image in her mind, making it simple to answer:

Where were you?
In the mountains northeast of the city

Why were you there?
To try to disable the Equalist planes.

She recounts being captured, her father shouting at her that he intended to avenge her mother's death, Naga breaking them out and her climbing into the mecha tank. Guessing how it worked from a lifetime of climbing onto factory machines. Using the tank to smash the remaining planes. Though she keeps her eyes on the prosecutor, the rest of the courtroom seemed to melt away, so that the only thing she hears outside her mind, the only thing she pays attention to, is each new question.

It's not until she's describing the glass in the windows of her mecha tank shattering and falling in pieces around her, forcing her to shield her face with her arms and leaving her unable to fight back as her father smashed in her tank using his own, that her awareness of the courtroom abruptly returns. But no one is speaking, or coughing, or so much as murmuring. She can dimly make out the sound of rustling paper in the back, but otherwise, the room is absolutely silent. Asami finally lowers her eyes, just for a moment, before the prosecutor asks –

"Did he say anything to you during this?"

"Yes."

She looks up, but not to the prosecutor – for the first time, she looks across the room to her father. His attorney is sitting beside him, scribbling something down, but he's looking right at her, face impassive. He's wearing a black suit, the Future Industries logo stitched in red over the left side of the jacket.

Asami has to make herself breathe first.

"He said, 'I now see there is no chance to save you.'"

The commotion this causes in the gallery isn't that loud, but still enough to startle Asami. She looks away from her father at once, first to the crowd, and then uncertainly back to the prosecutor, who's watching her with slightly widened eyes. Asami knows it's not surprise, but concern, and though she can now so acutely feel her father's eyes on her, she makes herself straighten and look ahead, as it's the only way she knows to appear unshaken.

The breakout of muttering diminishes when the prosecutor speaks again. There are no more particularly dramatic notes; she takes Asami through Bolin attacking her father long enough to allow Asami to recover and destroy his tank, and even through the moment when she wasn't sure what she'd do when she'd cornered her father. With a few final questions about when she'd seen and spoke to him last, the prosecutor finishes, meeting Asami's eyes briefly again before returning to her table.

She keeps her back straight, but allowed herself to fold her hands in her lap, as the Head Commissioner Liang called her father's attorney forward. They said it should be the same. Sit there and tell the truth. That it probably wouldn't even last very long, given that she was such a damaging witness. And so despite having no idea what to expect, Asami curls her fingers together in her lap, but meets the lawyer's gaze straight on.

He starts out with questions that return to what she'd just covered, but that more specifically asks about her father. How he'd looked, what his reactions to her were like, if he'd acted that way before. It's not until he asks her right out what she imagined her father was thinking, that she realizes he's pushing her father's insanity defense. That he was some consumed by the death of his wife that he couldn't think of anything else.

Asami answers that she couldn't know what he was thinking. His attorney nods, and then –

"During the Equalist Revolution, you aligned with the Avatar, didn't you?"

It seems simple enough. "Yes."

"And if I've counted correctly, during the conflict you assaulted at least twelve opposition members yourself?"

Her hands relax, but her eyes narrow very slightly. "I didn't keep count."

"But you did assault multiple Equalists, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"So it would be in your interest to see those actions considered legally justified?"

Inhale, exhale. Asami makes herself answer with certainty. "Yes, it would."

"And a conviction for your father would likely help secure that, wouldn't it?"

"Yes."

She can tell at once it's not the sort of response he was hoping for. Equivocation, uncertainty – anything that would make her appear afraid. Like she was saying what she had to in order to protect herself. But as she's just acknowledged his point – that the only reason her actions aren't crimes are because she's not on the losing side – there isn't much hope that she'll come off like someone who would make up anything out of fear. It means, at least, she's not surprised when he seems to change his track.

"And I believe now you've taken your father's place at Future Industries?"

The prosecutor stands at once. "What's the relevance of this?"

"Commissioners, if my client is convicted, Ms. Sato stands to inherit her father's company immediately, and that goes to bias –"

"I'll answer."

In the midst of their argument, both sides and the judges are caught off-guard when Asami speaks. As though in that moment they'd forgotten she was there. Commissioner Liang looks between them, but then simply waves his hand, to gesture for her to continue.

"Yes, I've been trying to – take his place."

She immediately wishes she hadn't said it like that, and the attorney's eyes flash like a cat watching a mouse.

"Meaning that if he's convicted here, you'll likely take his fortune and his company, isn't that correct?"

When she answers, she does so without even a pause for thought –

"I don't know how much of a fortune it'll be. Between our investors leaving and the Yuans we'll have to pay out to help fix this city, Future Industries might not survive the next year."

It's the second time her words have caused a commotion in the back, though this time, she's not startled. She doesn't look away from the questioning attorney, who manages to hide his surprise at her directness and snap at her, "Answer the question, Ms. Sato."

"Yes."

He takes a step back, folding his arms, apparently considering what to say next. Asami looks down as well, wondering if there's any chance this is nearly over, as even her nerves have been overwhelmed by exhaustion, and she's longing to be in any place that doesn't involve a room full of people staring at her. Or at least fewer people staring at her.

It means she's still looking down when her father's attorney asks, "You were involved with one your bender allies during this as well, weren't you?"

Something clenches over her heart. She doesn't gasp, but it's only because for the moment, she also doesn't breathe. How is it – how can this be used like a weapon against her?

By the time she's looked up, the prosecutor's voice has rung through the hall once more.

"Commissioners, what possible relevance does this have?"

"I'm inclined to agree with the prosecution," Commissioner Liang, leaning slightly over his table to look over to the witness chair. "How is this relevant?"

"If she's interested in covering for her boyfriend –"

He's not my boyfriend -

"Commissioners, that doesn't make sense. The boy in question doesn't face any charges here, defense counsel is just bringing up Ms. Sato's personal life to harass her–"

Liang holds up his hand. "Both of you, come forward now."

It can't have lasted more than thirty seconds – she can make out the edges of the whispered argument between the defense and prosecution, but nothing else. Her gaze has dropped to her lap once more – the room is otherwise silent, and for the first time she truly wished she had a way to hide her face. There was nothing fair about it – she hadn't done anything wrong. There was nothing in what he'd said that suggested she'd really done something wrong. But telling herself that, and knowing it – it didn't keep the heat from rising to her face, or the sense of terror at having that dragged out here, too. Having to answer one pointed question after another about – just – hadn't she already done this enough?

A moment later, however, it doesn't matter. She hears Liang say, "I've made my decision, counselor," and both attorneys retreat, the prosecution returning to her table, and the defense attorney, after stating he had no further questions, does the same. It takes Asami a minute to realize this means that it's over, as the Commissioners adjourn for the day, and the prosecutor is waving at her, beckoning her to step out of the chair.

Asami does stand, and steps forward – but though the crowd is moving, most of the faces are still turned toward her. Along with a number of camera lenses and microphones.

And now, all she has to do is make it to the other side of the room.