Disclaimer: Hokuto no Ken, and all within, belong to Buronson and Hara Tetsuo. All dialogue in this fic is taken from HnK manga chapters 9 and 10.

Regicide
by Chou

"Die KENSHIROU!" I thrust with my hand as I shout. He doesn't flinch, doesn't move other than raising his hand directly in my path.

I make him realize the error of that when I put my fingers through his palm.

He still doesn't flinch.

Then his eyes narrow with a look straight from the hell I sent him to, he makes a fist around my hand through his, and I see the blow coming almost too late. Now, it's my turn to raise a hand for defense.

Nanto Lone Eagle Fist allows me to make my hands as sharp as blades, allows them to pass through flesh as easy as paper. I've killed men in some very horrible ways, and laughed as their blood splashed my face.

Watching Kenshirou's fist rip through my hand still made me flinch. And then the blow came. High on my chest. The bastard probably just hit one of those stupid tsubo his style does its work through. Then, just to be mean, he grinds the fist into my chest. He's changed, Kenshirou has. It's the grinding that drives that point home even more than anything else in this fight has.

Then the rest of the blows come. They hurt, of course. I feel ribs give, and blood well up inside. My collarbone fractures, and on the last hit, so does my breastbone.

I hit the pillar behind me too hard to be good, but not hard enough to care, and then I know its over. Only one question remains.

"Wh…why?" I choke out through blood as I slide to the pillar's base.

The why of it means a great many things, actually. Why was he able to win? Why was I defeated so easily by a man I beat like a crippled child in our last encounter?

Why did Yuria love him more than me?

He turns and speaks "It was anger that overcame your style. My anger was beyond your ambition!"

"…Anger…" Well, one question answered. He keeps talking.

"I hit vital points in the shape of the Bloody Cross. Die with your emblem carved into you!" He always was one for poetic justice. I'd laugh if I didn't think it would only kill me sooner.

Suddenly, time is important to me though. How long I have left to live is another question I would very much like to have the answer to. I ask him. He holds up one finger.

"You have one minute!"

A minute. He was merciful. I'm simultaneously grateful and disgusted.

He turns away from me, because dead men pose no threats, and he looks on the face of his beloved whom he saw me kill with my bare hands. Or thought he saw. The second he touches her cheek, he knows. And I manage to laugh at his expression. He should know I could never kill Yuria. If he knew nothing about me anymore, he should've known that.

"Ha…that's right…our battle's not over yet."  I say, half to myself.

"A…doll! What is the meaning of this!?" He turns, and I choke out a small chuckle at his expression. Then I remember why there's a doll there…why it's not actually her on that throne. I lean back, and suddenly, I'm tired, so very damn tired. Tired of being King, tired of Southern Cross, of Kenshirou, and of the fact that everything I did in this life was for nothing.

Against my will, the tears come. I fight them but give up. This close to the end, it's not worth the effort. And besides…in this entire world, she is the only thing that can bring tears to my eyes. It feels like sacrilege not to let her have them.

"Sh…Shin." Kenshirou's voice cracks a bit, and I wonder if its confusion or compassion at the source. He always was too caring of others at the wrong times…

"She's gone…" I manage through my tears, not looking at him. "Yuria's gone…there will never be a victor in our battle." Just saying it makes it the truth, realizes the fact that my life, my conquests, my city…were all for nothing. It's amazing, really. In another world, with the wealth and power I had, I could've ruled a country.

He demands an exclamation, and I almost tell him to go to hell out of sheer spite. But…I've never hated Kenshirou. Envied him, at first, yes…and after I beat him, I held him in contempt for his weakness. But there was no hatred. In another world, he was my friend. We had trained together, sometimes. We laughed at times, despite Kenshirou's natural inclination not to.

Soon after, Kenshirou became the master of Hokuto, and Jagi came to me, like the serpent in Eden. I knew he was jus jealous of Kenshirou…but he had a point. Kenshirou was weak back then. Too weak to protect her. So I took her by force.

And now…none of it seems to matter.

So I tell him about my conquests in her name. I miss those days, especially since I'll never be able to feel that battle rush, or much of anything, ever again. I tell him about the creation of Southern Cross, and how it was fit for a queen…for a goddess…but not for her. And I tell him how the tears came into her eyes, and how she leapt to her death taking my heart and dreams with her to a messy end on the sidewalk…and again, I asked why, before the ears came, and my world went dark and cold.

"I cried…for the first time in my life, I cried. Until the end…even until the very end, I couldn't win her heart..." And I look at him, and I see that the holes in my heart are the same, made by the same woman. "…because YOU were always in her heart."

You win, Kenshirou. You always had her heart, you bastard. I won't die by your hand. I owe myself that. And I pull myself to my feet.

"This city…this city I made for Yuria, Southern Cross…has become a memorial…" I walk to the ledge, pain with every step.

"Look!" I wave my hand over her memorial. "A memorial to Yuria!"

Kenshirou is silent behind me, so I keep talking. I don't have time to do anything else.

"But this city…the wealth, the fame, and even the power…was in vain…all I ever wanted…was Yuria!" It's a dead man's shout, but it sounds strong, because it's from the bottom of my cold, dead, heart. He still doesn't say a word.

Then I see her face, and I feel the blinding pain, and my wounds burst open. My eyes widen in pain, then narrow in determination.

"Ha…my time has come." I was a King. I won't die a sad, worthless wreck on the outside like I am on the inside.

"But I will not die by your hand!" I turn and jab a shaking finger at Kenshirou. I'll die a King, defiant to the last. "Not I…"

Our eyes me. Desperate passion meets cold determination, then I jump.

"Saraba da…KENSHIROUUUU!" I yell with all my strength as I jump. He yells after me, to my surprise.

More wounds burst, and my guts hit the ground before me. But he doesn't kill me. He had her heart, but I retain my pride.

Then I hit with her face in my mind, and it all goes away.

The King is dead, long live the King.

Author's Notes:

Well, I'm on an HnK kick, thanks to Raijin's full color manga of HnK…beautiful, beautiful stuff. I wrote this fic in one sitting after watching Shin's death in the HnK anime, and thinking "This would make a great internal monologue fic." And hopefully, it did.

Shin is my favorite villain of the series, because like Ken said "We loved the same woman." Shin's story is a sad one to me, and in another world, he could've been a great man like Ken, or Rei, or any of the good guys. Wasn't meant to be, I suppose. He

Also, I started this fic towards the end of the fight, because I really just wanted to do his death scene. Its one of my favorite scenes in the anime and manga, because its just so damn dramatic and tragic…Shin goes from insane violence to defeat to defiance before his death, and it really made an impression on me when I saw it. HnK is more than just wacky martial arts and bad hair; it's a dramatic story of men in a post apocalyptic world where only strength rules, and weakness is death. The anime is rather goofy, but the manga really shows this off.

Finally, I kept "Saraba da, Kenshirou!" as is, because it sounds better to me…whenever I think of Shin dying, I hear that line. It was a great piece of acting.