I have no parents; I make the Heavens and the Earth my parents.
I have no home; I make the Tan T'ien my home.
I have no divine power; I make honesty my Divine Power.
I have no means; I make Docility my means.
I have no magic power; I make personality my Magic Power.
I have neither life nor death; I make Om my Life and Death.

-Anonymous Samurai 14th Century

He didn't have much time left. After several unnecessary meetings that failed to accomplish anything, a productive lunch conversation, and a short deadline extension the program was still not fully uploaded. He massaged his eyes for a moment, struggling to figure out why the data function was not retrieving data like it was supposed to. He checked to make sure the pathways and files were in the correct place and format. Again, the same idiotic error message flashed at him like a gray, rectangular stop sign.

He shook his head and glanced at the small clock in the corner of the screen. It was nearing midnight and he still hadn't managed to finish uploading the new program. He still didn't understand why it was so incompatible with the current network program. It was just a basic management system really, just a flashy SNMP system with some bells and whistles.

At one o clock in the morning he managed to finish the last of a group of tasks that were given to him based off of requests from upper management, which was based off recommendations given by an overseas consulting group that offered ways to improve the company's performance.

He thought that today, like any other day he would find himself up again at six o clock, back to the office at seven to finish preparing the presentation to the upper management at 8 o clock. For this man, the past two years of his life had become like this. His muscles ached from sitting for so many hours. He stretched his limbs and lurched to the elevator. His eyes were red and his ears were ringing

At one fifteen, in Tokyo's Marunouchi district, his life changed once again. Perhaps it was not a change, but more a return. It happened so quickly, but the scenario was so common. He saw a woman, one he recognized named Naoko who worked at the same company as he did. He saw another man grabbing her and smelling like alcohol. He saw her face in pain, her arms trying to push him away and the next thing he knew he had dug his fingers into the other man's shoulder. His fingers calloused from a past that no one would recognize him from were like iron. With a slight movement he shoved the man hurting Naoko away.

Naoko thanked him, and they walked awkwardly to a late taxi and parted.

That would have been the end, but this incident ended up coming back to haunt him. One week later he received notice that he was no longer needed by the company. That due to financial constraints the company had to cut down its IT team. But Naoko ended telling him the truth as he cleared out his desk and was rushed out of the twelve story building like a man quickly growing still and decaying. The man that he had met that night, the man that he had fought off, was one of the upper management. In fact, this man had recognized him during his presentation of the new system and had slipped in a few wrong words to the right people.

Ryusuke Hoshi wondered how he had become so small. It was like he was a drone of some inconceivable machine that he was attached to. How did it come to this? When did he suddenly retire his gi for a suit and tie? A few words from a man that he had met only briefly had destroyed his career. Yet even worse, he was so powerless. He could never reach those men with his fists sitting in their glass and steel towers on leather seats. They had eaten him and he found himself like a skeleton clumsily trying to reconnect his jaw to his skull.

Ryusuke still maintained an astonishing appetite, finishing off three bowls of miso ramen. He lumbered out, his massive body feeling hollow and strangely uncomfortable. He loosened his tie, but he felt like his whole body was trying to break out…break out of something. He unbuttoned his shirt a little more. Losing a job was not the end of the world. Ken had helped him land the job at the company in the first place. But that wasn't what was bothering him. What bothered him was he was punished for doing the right thing.

"Ryusuke Hoshi?"

Ryusuke looked to see the man that had him fired looking directly at him. Under traditional circumstances he would have bowed and offered him a seat. But there was a quality in Ryusuke that refused to do this and he simply nodded to the other man coldly.

"Ryusuke…"The man smiled at him as if he were greeting an old friend. "I wanted to talk to you, to clear up some misunderstandings." He sat down although he was clearly displeased at Ryusuke's lack of manners. "I understand that you traveled abroad for quite some time so you may not be used to some of our customs." The man continued leaning over to Ryusuke. "Nowadays people are getting more and more upset about "sekuhara" but you have to understand that I wasn't hurting Naoko last night. We were just having a good time."

Ryusuke shook his head quietly and slowly. "No, you were hurting her." He replied.

"Ryusuke, listen to me. You can't be so firm and "hard". You have to understand how to be more fluid and soft. You'll never survive in the corporate world if you don't know how to bend a little. Naoko may have told you one thing …but in reality she enjoyed it."

"No." Ryusuke shook his head again and his hair wavered. Impossibly, if was as if he had never taken off that red bandana, the same red bandana that Alex Talle, the current UFC champ, now proudly wore on his forehead. "While we were together she told me about how you made her always sit next to you, how you always would use your vibrator pen to poke at her."

"Ryusuke, calm down, don't look so angry. My goodness, you look like you can kill someone. Those are just games, Ryusuke, games for fun. No one takes them seriously. Ask around, you'll find that people play these games all the time in Japan. You may be a grown man on the outside, but inside you're still a child." The man laughed. "So how about you just admit that you were wrong. If you do, I'll see if I can put in a good word for you. We're hiring in a division and you have experience with our company. I think you'd be a good candidate." The man smiled at him.

Ryusuke stood up and the man suddenly felt something, some sort of impossible presence. His pores felt like they were being opened and something hideous was forcing into them. He wiped the sweat from his forehead.

"You're a fool, a naive little man." He shouted. "I will make sure that you'll be starving and forced to move. This is the real world boy…the world doesn't reward heroes."

Ryusuke walked past him coldly. Suddenly he felt something else, a power that he never imagined before, not since Akuma had he encountered such a…

Ryusuke turned around to see a larger man looking at him. Launching himself forward, Ryusuke intercepted a single attack and the blow made his entire body tremble violently. The man who had him fired watched in horror as the other larger man casually exchanged blows with Ryusuke. Ryusuke's footwork was still agile, and there was a blue glow forming in his hands.

"Ansatsuken is a tiger without fangs. Only when it returns to its source can it rival the Hokuto no Ken." The larger man slapped the bluish globe of light away.

"Who are you?" Ryusuke asked, already panting.

"I am Kenshiro, the 64th successor of Hokuto Shin Ken. I am here to take him to hell."

Ryusuke went on the offensive again with a swift combination of strikes. All of them failed to connect and as he side kicked open space he suddenly saw an eruption of killing intent that he had only seen when he encountered Akuma's Shun Goku Satsu.

北斗百裂拳 (North Star Hundred Attacking Fists)

Based off of the Shaolin 1000 Buddha Palm technique, the arms grow into four shadows, four fists become eight, eight becomes sixty four, sixty four become over a thousand. Phoenix eyes pierce the center line and elephant fists rupture the limbs.

Ryusuke felt his whole body burn as if on fire. He felt like an anvil repeatedly being beaten over and over by floating hammers. The movement was so fast he couldn't see anything but a hurricane of hand strikes. He fell to the floor and felt blood swell up from his mouth.

"You are not an evil man. I have merely struck muscle tissue instead of the energy points." Kenshiro spoke to him. "Return to the source and complete your style. Then we will meet again."

"…' Ryusuke struggled to speak. "Why do you want to kill him?"

"This man used his power to destroy a family. He is trash that does not value human life." Kenshiro pointed at Ryusuke's former superior.

"Please!" The man dropped to his knees. "Don't kill me!"

"I don't need to." Kenshiro began leaving the restaurant. "Because you're already dead"

Ryusuke felt something hot and sticky splatter all over his face. It reminded him of pigs for some reason. His former manager's body, now headless and spraying blood recklessly, dropped to the floor.

"Aren't we the same really?" She asked him. "You are just like me, playing a role. And when you play that role others made for you, you become what they want. You never felt you ever defeated Sagat fairly, and yet because of people's belief in you, you ended up surpassing him. You were unable to match Akuma's power, and yet you still ended up the victor.

You are just something to satisfy the need of the masses just like I do. But you lived off it, didn't you? The fight…the role…so why are you complaining now?"

Some time ago, someone had decided to write a book about Ryusuke. It ended up doing very well, especially since the magic phrase "based off a true story" were added. Soon he began to see his name next to titles like "Street Fighter" and "the World Warrior." Comparisons to Mas Oyama and Miyamoto Musashi were made along with movies, comic books, merchandise and even his own line of sparring gear. Ken did his best to help him, told him when to sign the papers, who to call and who to ignore.

At first he tried to use his new found popularity for some good, participating in charity bouts and trying to adapt to his new status. He even costarred with Fei Long in a Street Fighter sequel. His hands, calloused and heavy from decades of dedicated training weren't in control of the reins of his life anymore. He had a schedule, talk shows to attend, and promotions to give.

He didn't even know her name, that actress/singer/model, besides the name that the talent agency had given her. She told him once her real name but he didn't remember it. It wasn't as pleasant sounding as her new name. They always ended up together somehow at the same dinners, the same awards, the same events. They would both pose for pictures with the same plastic smiles. Sometimes he would try and give Chun Li a call. Sometimes she would answer and they would exchange pleasantries but she was so far away now.

Did his life really belong to himself anymore? He couldn't walk outside the street without wearing a hat, sunglasses and shoes. He had become a prisoner somehow, a prisoner of expectations and camera flashes. People began pressuring him to start a series of dojos and instructional videos.

"Aren't we just creations for the public? And the public in return lets us live such rich lives…" She asked him.

One day this singer/actress/model was found dead from an overdose of depression medication. The talent agency that birthed her often complained that she thought too much and asked too many questions. The following evening Ryusuke signed some papers, licensed everything to Ken and donated his personal wealth to charity. He fired all his agents and walked away. Ryu, the legend, disappeared forever. Instead a Ryusuke Hoshi appeared and paid his respects to the grave of an actress/singer/model whose real name didn't even appear on her tombstone.

It wasn't hard to start over, as soon as he gave Ken control Ken pulled the plug on the merchandising, books and product line. The public had a very short memory ever hungry it had left to feed on another scandal and another beautiful person. They were replaceable commodities, after all. .

"Hokuto Shin Ken?" Ken repeated as Ryusuke watched him practice in his personal gym. "I never heard of that style." He gave the large body bag a few quick kicks.

"I know I haven't practiced as much as in the past, but I don't know if I could have stood a chance even in my prime." Ryusuke admitted, his body covered in sweat from a few light sparring sessions with Ken.

"Your prime?" Ken snorted. "You're acting like we're already old geezers. No way! I still have a long way to go before I retire." He glanced at Ryu.

"Okay, nap time is over. Come on get up and show me if you still have any fight left in you." Ken's leg vaulted over and Ryusuke dodged. The two of them became locked in another short fight. Ryusuke's hands glowed blue and Ken peppered back at him in rapid combinations. Both fists collided and Ryusuke and Ken both fell back and on their behinds.

"See? You still got it. You're just rusty from slaving at a keyboard all day. When you told me you wanted to go into programming I almost went into cardiac arrest. I mean your finger could probably fry a mother board"

"Ken…I need to ask a favor of you."

"What is it?" Ken asked his face serious.

"I need money I'm going to start traveling again."

"Here" Ken pulled out a platinum card. "I have a 500,000 dollar credit line. Use as much of it as you need"

Ryusuke held the card in his fingers, still dripping with sweat.