The Slaughter

Long before Akuma entered Castle de la Paz, he knew it was empty. He still entered it, searching, for he had found that some fighters were able to hide their ki, and thereby escape from him. A fortunate few, however, had evaded him by simple luck. 29,000 feet above the Atlantic Ocean, a fortunate Vega sat contemplating. He was thinking about possible language barriers, Edmund Honda's optimism and cheer, and Why was Honda in the southwestern United States? Absorbed with these thoughts, he failed to note Akuma's ki concentrating on him. Akuma changed his plans. With his challenge having avoided him once already, and growing more distant with every moment, Akuma searched out a new target. It wasn't very large, but it was intense, and might provide a challenge.

It didn't. Rose's attacks had been different from every other fighter he had faced, her Soul Sparks burning and eating away at his insides like acid. Worse, her Aura Soul Throw somehow stunned his ki, rendering him unable to launch even the weakest Gou Shoryuken for the last half of the fight. He had even given up his fireball attacks all together when a Messatsu Gou Hado had been reflected back into him from point-blank range. In spite of all this, Akuma had outclassed Rose. His vicious power overwhelmed her defenses, crushed her, killed her. Shattered glass from display cases and broken shelving lay about the floor, almost in mourning for Rose. Akuma watched as her blood covered some of the debris.

Finally, he was able to use his ki again, finally recovered from Rose's attacks. Akuma meditated on the blood, searching again for a challenge. Two possibilities were found in opposite directions from each other. One was pulsing, strong and steady, rhythmic. The other was much larger, but there was something twisted about it, something not right and strange. The sense of an abnormal ki made Akuma hesitate, but the sheer size of the contest available was too great to ignore, and so Akuma headed northeast.

Akuma back flipped over the bludgeon, hearing it pass underneath him. The fight had been fierce, but now he was winning, breaking the brutal stalemate. Zangief had realized who was winning as well, and was resorting to keeping Akuma away with a 12 foot long steel beam, swinging it like a huge bat. The area surrounding Akuma was covered in blood, not all of it his opponent's. Blood pooled in dents on the floor of the steel factory's smelter. Some of the dents were created by the beam, some created by Akuma's body being driven into the floor. The start of the fight had seen Akuma hurling hadokens from range, only to see them defeated by Banishing Flats or dissipated by Double Lariats. Every time he had closed in to unleash devastating combinations, he had found himself in the unforgiving clutches of a brutal grappler. Akuma's ki reserve had rarely been tested this deeply, huge amounts going to absorb the impact from slams and drivers and bombs just to survive.

Zangief had even tried to hurl Akuma into a pit of molten steel. A grim smile of satisfaction spread across Akuma's face at the memory. His duel with Dudley had taught him to take heed of his surroundings. As before, he had flipped upright, but instead of trying to land, Akuma had flown into his Hurricane Kick, flying over the liquefied metal. Then Zangief had picked up the beam, and Akuma knew what to do. He prepared his ki for two last bursts, ready to end the fight. Hopping back, the wind from the latest swing disturbing his gi, Akuma sprang his trap. Dashing forward, Akuma watched as Zangief brought the I-beam whipping back at him. Zangief knew there was no way Akuma could make it to him in time and put extra effort into crushing the Ansatsuken fighter. Exactly as Akuma had planned. Just before he was decapitated by the monstrous bat, Akuma went into a short teleport. The beam whistled through the images, and Akuma reformed right in front of a defenseless Zangief, his dangerous hands preoccupied. He had tried an Instant Hell Murder/Raging Demon earlier in the fight, only to be taken out of it by a Final Atomic Buster that had deeply hurt Akuma in spite of his outpouring of ki. But this time it was not countered.

The kanji burned into Akuma's back as it always did after he completed the Shun Goku Satsu. Literally translated, the kanji meant '10'. More accurately, it meant 'more than human'. It still burned, but it felt different this time than in times past. Now it felt like proof of an accomplishment, a compliment on rising to a new rank of fighting prowess. Before, it always felt like an indictment against him, the pain accusing Akuma of an unfair fight, using that which others could neither use nor defend against. After he had defeated his master Goutetsu, the weight of the accusation had kept him from using the technique against his brother Gouken. But their defeat had shown him their weakness for locking the technique away. Now, Akuma basked in the warmth of the kanji and in the glory of his victory. Soon, Akuma would start his long journey to the southeast, not possessing enough ki to get him to India, much less enough to get there and then fight. But first, his fallen opponent was worthy of a death poem, unlike so many others.

           A flood of darkness

                      One more body lies lifeless.

                                 The fighter stands tall.

Days later, in India, the pain of yet another burn dragged a hard grunt out of Akuma. He was now hypersensitive to heat. The kanji added its fierce heat to Akuma's scorched body, the pain overcoming the satisfaction of victory. But it wasn't just heat that he felt more. Every sensation on his skin was amplified to painful extremes, so that even the remains of his tattered uniform touching him hurt. Even now, just standing over the body of Dhalsim caused his feet to shoot messages of pure agony to his brain, telling the tale of the Yoga Stream that had severely hampered his speed. Dhalsim had known his best course of action and followed it to perfection: set Akuma on fire again and again, then mercilessly punish the sensitive nerves with stretching limbs. Dhalsim had demonstrated his mastery of keeping his opponent out at his arms' reach and his ability to punish when they closed. Even the trick against Zangief, the teleport to Shun Goku Satsu, had been countered. Dhalsim had allowed him to teleport in close, then blasted Akuma with a Yoga Tempest. Then Akuma had found a pattern in Dhalsim's maddening Warps, and exploited his knowledge with his ultimate technique.

Akuma looked down at the remains of his gi. He frowned, splitting his swollen and blistered lips. He would have to find material for a new gi, the upper half of his present one was almost nonexistent. Where his gi was gone, he could see charred and blistering flesh, some of the burns torn open and bleeding by Dhalsim's attacks. Goutetsu had taught him and Gouken to make and care for their uniforms, but Akuma had always been a better fighter than tailor. Even when he had been a weak fighter known as Gouki, he had never been good at much besides fighting. He had changed his name when he unlocked the Shun Goku Satsu, it seemed to fit his new abilities and powers better.

In some ways, the fight with Zangief had been easier. But whether harder or easier, the end result was the same. Now, he needed a place to rest and heal. Turning east, Akuma left the body of Dhalsim to his widow and now fatherless children. He may have warranted it, but a death poem seemed too bothersome, not worth the trouble. Not even the victory won could take the edge off the torture that his feet felt at each and every step. The kanji burned into his back still, longer and more painfully then ever before, the pain robbing Akuma any satisfaction that he may have had from the fight. Akuma's sole comfort as he left the village was the fact that Dhalsim was dead.

The weak have no right to live…