Disclaimer: I don't own Street Fighter in any way, shape or form. It and all associated characters, trademarks, etc. are owned by Capcom. I'm just telling some stories about them.
Chapter Twenty-Five: Aftermath
Japan, March 26
The large room had not been built with the intention of serving as a medical area, but as far as Chun-li could see, it had been repurposed quite effectively. It stretched out before her, complete with all manner of equipment, most of it grouped in clusters around the twelve beds that the room contained.
"Originally we had them all in separate operating rooms," remarked the doctor who was acting as her guide. "But as they started to recover and regain consciousness, we started to have problems with... emotional instabilities. Putting them together like this ended up doing more to keep them calm than anything else we tried."
Chun-li's gaze traveled across the beds dwelling on the slender forms of the girls lying on them. Frowning, she tried to reconcile the vulnerable-looking children wrapped in hospital gowns with the ruthless killing machines in Shadowlaw combat fatigues that she had faced off against on more than one occasion. She shook her head, sickened once more by the depths that Bison's depravity had reached. "How are they doing?"
"Physically?" the doctor asked. "I've never in my life seen such fast healing. It's... actually quite unnerving, to be honest. In any case, I'm predicting full recoveries for all of them."
"And mentally?"
The doctor shrugged uncomfortably. "That seems like more of a mixed bag. They've been released from Bison's control, but their reactions to their freedom have been wildly different. Some of them have taken to it fairly well, but some of them... well, some of them have had a more traumatic time adjusting."
Chun-li nodded. "What's the prognosis there?"
"Not really my field. I'm only qualified to patch up their bodies." Then the doctor glanced out across the room. "But... if you want my gut feeling? I'd give anyone decent odds if they had someone like her pulling for them as hard as she is." He pointed as he spoke.
The policewoman looked in that direction as well, to where Cammy was standing vigil at the bedside of one of the former Dolls, holding the girl's hand in her own. "I agree..." Chun-li murmured, then moved out into the room toward them.
Cammy looked up as she drew near. "Chun-li!" she said. "You're back!"
"The presentation to the General Secretariat in France took less time than I expected," explained the Interpol agent, as she came over to stand next to Cammy. "I was able to grab a red-eye flight and get back here a day early. How is she doing?"
They both looked down at the girl on the bed. Chun-li recognized her as the one called Enero, with long, curly pink hair. "She's still having the nightmares," Cammy said with a look of shame, as though she held herself in some way responsible for that. "And the fits when she's awake. But... I think they're not as bad now, just a little."
"That's good." Chun-li laid a hand on Cammy's shoulder. "It's very noble, what you're doing for them."
Cammy looked away for a few moments, then looked back at the policewoman. "I... don't really think so..." she said falteringly. "It's just... they're my..."
Her voice trailed off into silence. Chun-li nodded sympathetically, wondering which word came closest to expressing the connection that the girl was unable to describe. Her team? Her friends? Her sisters?
But in the end, Chun-li knew that whatever bond it was that linked the girls together, it was something an outsider would never truly understand. The best she could do was to offer her support—which she did, standing next to Cammy in silent hope for her comrades.
It was some time before Chun-li left, but eventually she was forced to excuse herself. Exiting the room, she walked out into the hallway beyond.
She strode onward, passing by numerous guards as she went—Interpol agents, charged with protecting the patients from attempts on their lives. Patients like the Dolls... and one other.
Chun-li paused, halting in front of one of the other doors, glancing through its window into the much smaller operating room on the other side. There were five men in there—four wearing suits, clustered around the bed that the fifth man was laying in. Even in his prone position, though, Sagat still seemed to dwarf the agents questioning him.
Here, as well, there were guards stationed outside the door. These, however, were looking just a bit... awkward. Chun-li guessed that it was a result of the "incident" that had taken place earlier in the week while she had been giving her report in France.
From what she had been told, after several rushed, ineffectual attempts at assassinating Sagat and the Dolls, the bickering, divided remnants of Shadowlaw had finally brought in one of their few remaining heavy hitters—a muscle-bound, chain-wielding fighter named Birdie. The attack, when it came, was timed well, when Cammy had been called out of the building for a debriefing session. And, through a combination of skill and a fair bit of luck, Birdie had managed to break through the remaining defense setup, making it all the way to the secure area.
At that point, Interpol had nothing left with a chance of stopping him. The guards had been reduced to a hopeless defensive action as he smashed through them left and right.
It was then that Sagat—with one arm and both legs broken—had launched himself out of his room in a surprise attack, brutally incapacitating the Shadowlaw agent before Birdie even realized what had hit him.
The Interpol agents had been grateful for the rescue, of course. Even so, there was still something a little terrifying about being around someone who could do something like that. At the very least, it raised uncomfortable questions about just who was guarding who.
Chun-li looked into the room, watching as the Muay Thai master indicated various points on a map. She had been surprised when—on her return from the Shadowlaw base—she had been informed that it was Sagat who had provided Ryu with its location. She had been very surprised when she heard that he had freely offered everything else he knew about the remaining Shadowlaw operations. There had been no demand for a deal, no mention of a plea bargain. Just the straightforward disclosure of everything he knew about the organization.
And apparently, since most of his active duties had been to accompany Bison himself as a sort of honor guard, he actually knew quite a bit. Working off his information, they had already pinpointed over a dozen operations that they had been trying to crack for years, and exposed almost twice that many traitors in various governments and organizations. Killing Bison had cut off Shadowlaw's head, and now with Sagat's help, they were poised to grind the body under their feet.
Inside the room, Sagat suddenly glanced away from the map, looking out at Chun-li. Their gazes locked for a moment, measuring each other, each warrior trying to peer into the other's soul.
Chun-li didn't really know what Sagat was looking for in her eyes... but apparently he found it. The Muay Thai master's mouth quirked upward in a tiny, satisfied smile, and he nodded once at her, before returning his attention to the map.
The policewoman watched him for just a few seconds longer. Then, turning, she continued on her way.
Exiting the building, Chun-li stepped out into the afternoon sunlight and took a deep breath, allowing all her thoughts and worries and regrets to simply slip away for a few seconds. It was rejuvenating, something she always needed in her line of work.
"Ah, Inspector. Just in time."
The policewoman turned to see Rose standing off a ways, watching her. "I do try to keep my appointments," the policewoman replied mildly. "Even when I haven't been told what the appointment is about."
"Indeed..." The colorfully dressed woman smiled, then gestured with her hand. "Would you mind walking with me? There is a question I would like to ask you before we reach our destination."
Chun-li nodded, and fell into step beside Rose, walking through the city streets. For several minutes they walked in silence, before the older woman finally spoke. "My... history with Bison is... was... a very long and complicated one..." she told Chun-li. "My struggle against him has taken many forms over many, many years. And now, at its end, I find myself... lost. Utterly so."
A soft half-chuckle escaped her lips, as her gaze drifted across the city before them. "In all honesty, I never expected to find myself in this position. I was always certain that this battle would result in my destruction, in the end. The best destiny I ever hoped for was to take Bison down with me." She shook her head sadly. "Destiny, it seems, is capable of strange tricks."
The policewoman said nothing, and they walked on for a while longer without speaking. Then Rose sighed. "And so, thanks to the intervention of others, I have emerged from this struggle with... a life, one that I never dared plan for. The question then becomes... what should I do with it?"
Chun-li shrugged. "I don't know Rose. I mean, for someone like you, the possibilities are immense. You can do things that even I had never realized were possible."
"I can..." agreed Rose. "But not, I am beginning to suspect, for much longer. Bison and I were... linked, Inspector. Since his destruction, I have found it becoming harder and harder to draw on my full abilities. In time, I believe they may fade away completely."
"I'm sorry to hear that..."
Rose gave a gentle smile. "I am not. There are extremes of power that are unfitting to be under any one human's control, and I will be more than content not to bear that burden any longer." Then she hesitated. "But before that happens... there is one last thing I need to do. Hence today's excursion."
"I see..." Chun-li said. "So just where are you taking us, anyway?"
Rose looked ahead. "To make a payment on a debt."
Blackness.
There was blackness everywhere, a consuming, empty void of noiseless sound, of fear and unreason. And she was in the center of it—wrapped, chained on all sides. No time seemed to pass in that place, everything caught in that one frozen eternity of pain and cold.
Poor child. Your wound must have been grievous indeed for you to have retreated this far into yourself.
The voice startled her, breaking into the chaos without any warning, and carrying with it warmth. It frightened her; she could barely remember what warmth was, and it seemed as though it might consume her.
You must not shrink back. The transition will be painful... but less so than remaining here. It is time that you found the way back. Let my voice guide you. Fear not the darkness.
She didn't fully understand everything the voice was saying, but enough of it carried through. Her fear was still there, but rising up alongside it was a stubbornness, a desire to fight back.
Yes. Determination. Very good.
She tried, instinctively, to reach out for the voice, clawing toward it, kicking toward it, with hands and legs she couldn't feel. The closer she got, the more frantic her efforts became, like a swimmer trying to reach the surface for a gasp of precious air.
You are almost there. Just a little bit more...
And she knew she was almost there, even without the voice telling her. She could feel something other than the cold. A light, a sound, a touch, a taste, clearer every second, but still maddeningly out of reach.
If she could just get a little closer!
There was a rumbling sound in her ears now, a feeling of vertigo. She was rocketing upward, hurtling toward something.
Something bright...
With a gasp and a thrashing of her arms, she flung herself up from the bed into a sitting position. Everything spun in crazy circles around her, a kaleidoscope of light and sound. Immediately she flopped back down onto the bed, trying not to be violently ill.
"Sakura!" Before she had even begun to adjust to what had happened, she felt arms wrapping around her in a crushing embrace.
She blinked, her eyes heavy and gritty. "M- mom...?" she asked, still trying to pull things together into some kind of coherent picture.
She... was in some kind of hospital bed, her mother's arms wrapped around her while the woman sobbed hysterically. Hovering just behind her was Sakura's father, the normally-taciturn man looking as though he would join his wife's display in a heartbeat if there had been enough space.
Mystified, the young girl eventually realized that there were two other people in the room, further back. One was a Chinese-looking woman, dressed in a flowing blue quipao. The other was even more obviously foreign, an exotic-looking woman with purple hair and an outlandish, multi-colored outfit.
"Wh- what's going on?" asked Sakura, beginning to get worried. "Why are you acting like this, mom? And what am I doing here?
Her parents didn't seem quite able to answer the question yet, but the Chinese woman stepped in closer, a troubled frown on her face. "Sakura..." she said. "What's the last thing that you remember?"
Sakura opened her mouth to reply... and then froze, eyes losing focus as she struggled to find the answer to the question. "I'm... not sure," she said at last. "It's all just so... jumbled. Some little, normal things I remember here and there... but they're all... out of place. And I don't remember anything about how I got here..."
The two strange women exchanged glances, and the one with the purple hair nodded. "With psychic trauma such as she sustained, memory loss is not at all uncommon. Particularly with respect to things connected to the trauma. However, with my abilities, restoring those memories should be quite—"
"—quite unnecessary." The interjection from Sakura's father was firm and without hesitation. "If her experiences were anything like what you described to me, then she has absolutely no need to remember any of that."
Sakura cocked her head, puzzled. Meanwhile, the Chinese woman's frown had deepened a little. "Mr. Kasugano..." she said slowly. "I certainly understand your desire not to cause your daughter unnecessary pain." She hesitated. "But please, consider... there are some things that ought to be remembered. There are some things that... deserve to be remembered. Even painful things, sometimes."
"I don't care!" Now Sakura's mother had raised her head, tear trails still staining her face. "Hasn't she been through enough already? I won't have her suffering any more because of this... and I don't want to hear another word about it!"
Sakura could see that the Chinese woman was not altogether happy about the choice, her eyes showing a strange, frustrated sadness. But she nodded. "If that is your decision, Mrs. Kasugano," she replied, "then we will, of course, abide by it."
A strained, awkward silence descended on the room, until at last the Chinese woman gave a short bow. "If you'll excuse me..." she said. And with that, she turned to head toward the door, the foreign woman following.
Frowning in concentration, Sakura tried once again to search her fractured recollections for some clue as to what all this was about. As before, she came up with nothing—just senseless gaps filled with chaos and static.
Except...
"Um, actually..." she began, causing both women to pause in their exit, all eyes focusing on her. "Actually... I do remember something, just a little bit. There was a..." she hesitated. "A... man. He wasn't very old, and he was dressed in a... a karate uniform, I think. And he was also wearing a... red headband?" She paused, looking around for confirmation. "Am I remembering right?"
She met the Chinese woman's eyes, noticing that the frustration had drained out of them now, leaving only the sadness. "Yes," the woman answered quietly. "You're remembering right."
"Who... was he?"
The Chinese woman hesitated, her gaze flickering involuntarily over to Sakura's parents for a moment, before finally replying. "His name was Ryu," she said. "He saved your life, once. It cost him... everything."
With that, they left the room. Sakura watched them go, wondering even more just what exactly had happened in all the time that she had now lost.
Still, she knew enough to take one action, at least. Focusing on the single, blurry image of this... Ryu... that she still possessed, she tried her hardest to lock it into her memory.
Hours later, the sun was at last beginning to dip down below the horizon, the day almost at its end. Chun-li and Rose were seated on a bench near the shore, looking out over the sea, watching the sky burn with its blaze of reds and oranges.
They didn't talk much. Each of them had their own thoughts to mull over, and neither of them felt the need to fill the tranquil air with words. They simply sat there, together, wrapped in the newfound peace that had entered their lives... a peace that neither knew quite how to deal with yet.
Eventually, as the light continued to dim, Rose got to her feet. "Well..." she said quietly. "I suppose I should be off. I hope to meet you again someday, Inspector. I have been more grateful than I can express for your assistance... and for your companionship."
She began to walk off, only to be halted by Chun-li's voice. "Rose."
The woman turned back, as Chun-li got to her feet as well. "The question you asked me earlier... About what you should do with your life now." The policewoman paused, then went on. "I can't answer that for you. Not really. That's something you'll have to work out for yourself, out of who you are, or who you want to become. But there is one thing I can say."
Chun-li took a deep breath. "I don't know what it is, but there is something out there for you, Rose. Whatever happens to your powers, or whatever your tie with Bison was in the past, there is a way forward for you. It's just a matter of finding it."
Rose's eyes widened a little, and then she nodded. "Thank you," she said. "I think... I'm beginning to believe that myself."
Then Rose gave Chun-li a short bow, which the policewoman returned. And with that, the colorfully dressed woman walked away, eventually disappearing around a corner.
Chun-li was left alone, looking out across the shore, and it occurred to her to wonder what the way forward for her was. Where did she go from here, now that Bison was gone, accomplishing the goal that she had built her whole life around?
She didn't know, exactly, but found that she had little anxiety over that fact. Those answers, she was confident, would come in time. For now, she simply listened to the mournful cries of the seagulls, watched as the last fleeting glimmers of the old day sank into the ocean, offering in their end the promise of a new dawn.