Allow the sea and sky to give me strength
To break the heavens and split the earth
And to fight for my ambitions
-George Lam, "Man of Determination"
Love, Violence, and the Ghost of Geese Howard, part 2
Master Gouken spent the last years of his life in a small, neatly organized apartment overlooking a park, within sight of the temple where he sometimes attended services. He had two personal assistants, a young woman who came in the mornings, and a man who came in the evenings. Both were long time students of his.
Ken would stop by sporadically, depending on what he was doing that month. Ryu was there three times a week, after classes and work.
Books on culture, spirituality, and combat theory filled the shelves, alongside accupunture manuals and publications on traditional medicine practices. In the corner opposite the windows, which always caught the morning light, Ryu's teacher kept a shrine made of rosewood. An idol to the god of war perched at the top. Beneath it was a framed picture of the Master's wife, in her later years.
The incense holder in front of her picture was never empty. The whole apartment smelled of jasmine.
In another corner, closest to the bedroom, at least one or two oxygen tanks stood upright in portable metal racks.
Master Gouken kept a daily exercise regiment following his morning meditation which involved stretches and light cardio. Even at his age, he still practiced his katas.
"One is always a student," he said to Ryu once.
When they held conference in the afternoons, they sat across from each on the rug at the center of his living room, at the plain wooden coffee table. The incense burned at the shrine to Ryu's left.
The shrine at his master's apartment was more elaborate than the one at his master's dojo. The dojo's shrine was mounted on a shelf on the wall, up high, near the ceiling. It was made of uncolored, polished wood with gold trim.
When Ryu had been young and brand new, Gouken had explained to him that the shrine itself was empty.
"Traditionally, there is usually an idol kept inside. But here, I have chosen to keep it empty. It's because I have a lot of students from different backgrounds, different cultures, different religious beliefs. Not everyone is comfortable bowing to an idol. So, what I always say to new students is this: the shrine is empty so that you can place whatever is in your heart inside. Bow to what you personally believe in. Worship what is in your heart to worship. Fill it with your commitment to strive, if nothing else. The choice is yours."
Ryu had nodded, eager to train, eager to begin, eager to make something of himself, even if he didn't know what.
Sometimes he wondered what others placed inside the shrine. He wondered what his master placed inside of it. But it had seemed too personal to ask.
The only person he ever asked was Ken. And the answer had surprised him.
"It changes every time. I think of something good that I came across recently. I mean, like, acts of goodness, people doing good things for others. And I put it in there. I used to, when we were kids, think only of where I was going in life, the type of person I wanted to be, the things I wanted to have or achieve. But these days, I don't know, it seems a little selfish, you know?"
"It's not wrong to try and improve yourself," Ryu had said. "It's not wrong to think about the person you want to be and work towards it, to be the better version of yourself."
"I know. But I mean, I was thinking about stuff like getting good at fighting so my parents would overlook my bad grades in school. Because if I got a scholarship or got signed on to the pros, I wouldn't have to worry about school."
"Ah. Well, that's one way to do it. Not everyone is good with books."
"Yeah. I used to cheat. Haha! But...you may not remember, some years ago, my friends were really into professional racing. There was this one driver who was the reigning champion. He was a legend. No one could beat him. We used to get together at the sports bars and watch him race. He was a beast on the track. But then, one day, during a race, he somehow lost control of his car and crashed. He died on the spot. And I remember watching it all live, and afterwards I started thinking. There has to be more to life than just winning. Getting rich, getting trophies. Being the best. I want people to remember me for something more than that."
Ryu had been thrown off by his friend's honesty. "You're right, Ken. I never knew you thought about these things."
"Well, hey, I wanna be the best too! I can be champion and a stand-up kind of guy, right?"
"Yes!" Master Gouken declared from the dojo's side entrance. "And you can start by cleaning the floor like you were supposed to be doing."
A pair of brooms came flying at the both of them. Ryu managed to catch one, but Ken fumbled and got smacked in the face with the handle.
"You've got a strong arm, Sensei," Ken remarked, rubbing his cheek.
"Yes. When I was young, I was trained to kill a man with my bare hands."
"Was that...during the war?"
"No," Master Gouken said with wilting sarcasm. "It was during my time in the circus."
"Sensei, for real? You were in the circus?!"
The sincerity in Ken's voice made their teacher's palm connect with his own forehead at lightning speed. "Well, Mr. Masters, if I wasn't in one back then, it's starting to feel like I'm in one now."
Ken rolled with it. "Did you ever train any elephants?"
"No, just a jackass and a baboon."
Ken gestured between himself and Ryu. "Which one of us is which?"
"I feel like they are interchangeable."
"Please go easy on us, Sensei."
"If I did, I'd never have any fun."
Ken was Master Gouken's wayward son. When Ryu would show up at his sensei's apartment, he always came prepared to answer questions about school and how his studies were going. But the conversation was often interrupted by Ken's social media updates from whatever part of the world he was in that week.
"Why does that brat keep tagging me in all his pictures?"
"Well, I suppose it's so you'll see it, Sensei."
Master Gouken adjusted his reading glasses and peered at his phone.
"That young lady is not his fiancee!"
"Oh... No, no she's not."
"And neither are the other two!"
Ken was never without company or style when he traveled. By contrast, Ryu walked alone. Whenever school went on break, Ryu would take to the road again. He hitchhiked or took the bus. He trained at small gyms along the way. He fought in paid matches in front of an audience. The fight organizers kept him on standby. He was their substitution fighter. If one half of the main act pulled out at the last minute or simply failed to show up on the day of a scheduled fight, he'd step into the ring to take their place so that the event wouldn't get canceled.
The odds were against him in most of these bouts, as he'd never had time to prepare. But he'd learned the most from those losses. Occasionally, he'd take home a surprise win.
And when they asked for his name, he'd simply give it as "Ryu." But one night, the announcer, who had heard about his travels, would take to the mic and introduce him as "The Eternal Wanderer!" and so his ring name was born.
Somehow, it suited him. The roads had been another teacher to him. It was an education like no other. At times, he struggled to articulate the things he'd seen to others, even his master or his best friend. He wrote them down in a small paper journal that he carried with him, something that Master Gouken had advised him to do. Originally, it was meant to help him calm down his darker emotions. (If not for his self-control, the shadows would win.) But it also served as a private record of his life during his travels.
Over the years, Ryu had amassed a collection of stories that he didn't know how to tell. For the most part, he kept them to himself.
That winter, at the end of the semester, he'd found his way to Alaska, where he had caught a ride with a trucker through a snowstorm. The man had brought two children with him. They were twins, a boy and a girl, in matching parkas of different colors, one blue, the other pink. The children, excited to meet a stranger, had forced Ryu to play videogames with them while their father navigated the dangerous road conditions. Ryu could see from the man's face that the storm was getting worse. But each time the man glanced over at his children, his eyes became determined, and he would focus back on the road.
After a while, the children fell asleep. And eventually, the snowfall grew lighter and lighter, until the sky finally cleared.
"Are we in the eye of the storm?" Ryu asked.
"No, the eye was where we picked you up," the driver said. "This is the edge of it." He breathed a sigh of relief. Then he pointed at the horizon. "Take a look over there. That's the mountain where we came from. The kids here, their family has lived there for generations. They have a community up there. The other day, before I set out on the road, I climbed to the lower summit to leave an offering at the shrine. Good thing I did. Maybe their ancestors are watching over us. You too. I know we live in a modern era. But there are things in this world greater than all of us. It doesn't hurt to pay your respects once in a while."
The sun was out when they let him off at the next transit station. He remembered the sleepy faces of the children as they waved at him through the window.
It was just a simple moment in an ever-changing landscape, too mundane to call it a story. But it was a passing connection, one among many, that Ryu would transcribe by pen and ink into his journal.
A few days after riding with the trucker and his kids, Ryu's flight touched down in unfamiliar territory, and he'd ended up at a bus station, late at night. The neighborhood surrounding it didn't seem too bad, but he was in a foreign land. He took a seat on the bench and waited for his ride to arrive.
A figure emerged from the exit gates of the station and passed the bench. Ryu had been dozing off, but the presence of the stranger shook him awake. It was another young man, in jeans and a white t-shirt under a jacket, and carrying a duffle bag over his shoulder, hat pulled down over his eyes. He walked past the bench and stood leaning against the metal railing further out on the street, closer to the curb where the taxis did their loading and unloading. Because it was late at night, and they were the only two people waiting outside.
Ryu watched him set his things on the ground. Then he took the lower hem of his shirt by the front, twisted it, and held it slightly out in his fist.
It was a cold night. Ryu had bought a heavy jacket at a gift shop on the way over. But the other guy kept his jacket open. He even pushed the sides back with his elbows, leaving his abdomen partly exposed.
Ryu couldn't fathom it. It was as if he were trying to cool off. Maybe he was a local and used to the climate. Ryu had no way of knowing. His face was hidden under the brim of the hat. He had long blond hair, tied in a ponytail, draped over one shoulder. He looked strong, but muscles were more susceptible to cold.
Ryu's ride was late. So he had nothing else to do but watch the stranger keep that pose for nearly an hour. The chill in the air cut through even Ryu's thick jacket, making him shake and rub his hands together.
Eventually, a car pulled up. It looked nice and well kept. Ryu had no knowledge of foreign models. The passenger side window rolled down. And the blond stranger stepped forward and leaned inside.
There was a discussion. Then he turned around, picked up his things, and went back to the car. He opened the door and disappeared inside. The car continued on down the street.
When Zangief finally showed up, Ryu climbed into the heated interior of the vehicle, eager to be out of the cold. The bearded wrestler took up most of the space inside the car and nearly crushed Ryu's fingers during the handshake. The speakers were blaring loud party music.
"Tomorrow, we fight! But tonight, we drink! Yes? Hahaha!"
"Well, yes, I suppose we could do that."
"Good! How was your trip?"
"Ah, it was alright. But, before you pulled up..."
Ryu explained the short scene that had played out beforehand.
Zangief listened with a small knowing smirk. "You know what that was, yes?"
"No," Ryu admitted. "I really don't."
"No? It is, like, ah...what happens on the street. Or in prisons."
"Huh?"
"Like, he has no place to go. But the night is cold. So, he was, how do you say...advertising. Somebody see it, somebody like it, then they take him home."
"Oh." Ryu didn't know what else to say.
"You travel a lot, yes? You must see it a lot."
"No. I really haven't."
"What? There are no bath houses in your country?"
"Well, yes, there are. But they're for, uh, bathing."
"Ha! Very interesting." Zangief rubbed his chin before adding, "That's too bad."
"You seem to know a lot about this."
"My friend, I know everything that goes on here. I will take you to the best bars tonight. Don't worry, for you, there will be women! I promise!"
Before Ryu could protest, his friend hit the accelerator and shot through the intersection and the next several city blocks.
Zangief made good on that promise. Most of the night was a blur. Ryu, uncharacteristically sluggish through a vodka haze, remembered only snippets of it. There'd been music and a dance floor. Some stumbling around in a dark bathroom. Red neon lights, a warm body pressed against him, a hand on his shoulder. Then, at least one explosive fight in a back alley. Ryu vaguely recalled punching someone into a wall. A dangerous, all-consuming power was flooding straight through him. Teeth gnashed. Heart pounding. The smell of blood. And then Zangief wrapping him in a bear hug to keep him from making a terrible mistake.
Then: total blackout.
"The surface of a pond looks calm," Master Gouken had once said to him, "but that can be misleading. Serenity at the surface can conceal greater turmoil at the depths."
Ryu came to on a couch in Zangief's apartment with a massive headache. His stomach felt like it was tilting sideways. So was the room.
On the table next to him was a collection of miscellaneous items. One was a can with foreign script on the side, but a sticky note attached to it read, "Recovery tonic."
Ryu downed about half of it all at once. Then he lay back down and checked his phone.
Zangief had sent a few texts. "Sorry, friend. Have to handle some personal business. But make yourself at home. Go out and see the sights. I will be back by evening."
The next text read, "Also, please do not let the Jigglypuff out on her own. That would be very bad."
In the bathroom, Ryu splashed cold water on his face. There was a bruise on his cheek. Not too surprising. He'd been through worse. At least the urge to throw up was gone now. Maybe the tonic was working.
Out in the kitchen, he found a round pink Pokemon helping herself to a bowl of sugary cereal with marshmallows and milk.
"Puff puff!" She held out the box with her stubby limbs.
"No thanks," he said, politely. He pushed aside the curtain above the sink. The city outside was covered in white.
'Go out and see the sights.' Sure. The temperature was probably in the negatives. But he wasn't one to waste the day. He'd come all the way out here for an experience. There had to be more to this place than drunken bar fights.
He put on all the warm clothing he had. When he had a hand on the door, the Pokemon bounded up to him excitedly.
"Puff?"
"No, no. Your trainer wants you to stay inside."
"Puff puff!"
"No, sorry. Stay here, okay?" He pushed open the door and tried to slide out, but she was too fast for him. In a flash, she rolled behind his legs and down the hallway.
"Shit!"
Ryu slammed the door shut and gave chase. She rolled on down the stairwell and through one of the steel doors. He jumped out into the cold parking lot and immediately lost her in the white snow.
"Damn it." He looked around. Should he call her? Would it look strange for a weird foreigner to be shouting for a Pokemon in broad daylight?
He wandered the lot, checking under cars and behind dumpsters. Zangief was not going to be happy with him. What if she'd gotten into the street somehow?
He turned the corner, the fear of finding a pink blob flattened on the pavement prominent on his mind. It was then that he almost collided with another body.
Blue eyes. Blond hair. Red cap. A jacket that was too thin for the weather.
A jubilant pink ball in his arms.
"Puff puff!"
"Is this your Pokemon?" The chill in the air turned his breath into fog. He hadn't spoken in the local dialect. So, he must have been a traveler as well.
"No," Ryu said, "it's my friend's."
"Okay. You might want to bring her back inside. It's freezing out here."
"Sure." Ryu held his arms out. But Jigglypuff, once she realized she was about to be deposited into Ryu's grasp, leapt out of the stranger's arms and kicked Ryu in the face with one tiny leg. She hopped off the top of his head and landed in the snow, where she flopped down and proceeded to make snow angels in the ground. Because of her physical dimensions, the end result looked nothing like a snow angel, but she seemed proud of it just the same.
"I don't think she likes you very much," the stranger said.
"Pokemon generally don't," Ryu admitted. Ken had a charmander. That thing didn't like Ryu either.
"You want me to try and get her again?"
"Please."
Jigglypuff rolled in the snow as if the cold didn't bother her. When she saw the stranger approach, she jumped off the hood of a car and landed in his arms without hesitation.
"Puff!"
"I guess we're friends now."
"I guess." Ryu didn't know what a Pokemon considered a friend. "If it's not too much trouble, do you mind helping me get her back to the apartment?"
"Alright."
But Jigglypuff had other ideas. She poked the stranger in the chest and pointed excitedly to something across the street.
"I think she wants us to take her over there."
"Over where?" Zangief lived in kind of a rough neighborhood. There wasn't much on the street besides garages, liquor stores, and a random pastry shop.
"I think she wants to go to that shop over there."
"Puff!"
"You just had breakfast," Ryu protested.
"Puff!"
"Does Zangief spoil you like this all the time?"
The answer was a cheerful nod. "Puff!"
"Okay. But then we are coming right back."
At the pastry shop, they recognized the Pokemon immediately. She must have been a regular. The staff behind the counter patiently helped her gather up each item she pointed at through the glass and packaged it all neatly in a pink box. They added in two cups of hot coffee on a tray without needing to be asked.
When Ryu fished out some local currency, the server refused to accept it. Apparently, Zangief was more than a local celebrity. He was a local hero. Both he and his Pokemon ate for free over here. And that generosity extended to his friends.
Ryu wanted to take the food and go, but Jigglypuff wanted to take a table by the back window. So naturally, they stayed.
The two men drank their coffee and watched the Pokemon consume one treat after another.
"Okay, okay, try not to overdo it," Ryu said, concerned. If she got sick, Zangief was going to kill him.
"Puff!" She picked up a pastry and offered it to Ryu.
"No, thanks."
"Puff?"
"I don't like sweets."
The Pokemon looked appalled.
The stranger laughed. "I'll take it if you don't want it."
"Please, go ahead."
Jigglypuff handed off the piece in her hand but immediately selected another one and held it to Ryu, more insistently this time. "Puff puff!"
This one was plain and unfrosted. He sighed. "All right. Just this once."
"They're pretty good," the other man said. He seemed to smile easily. Not unlike Ken. But less guarded than Ken. It was a contradiction because he had the knuckles of a brawler. His lip looked like it had been recently busted up in a fight. His long hair was something Master Gouken would not have approved of, even if it was tied back in a neat ponytail. Nor the gold chain necklace that lay over his collarbone, as it was another thing that posed a risk during a fight. Sensei had cautioned against needless ornamentation.
But these artifacts stood out to Ryu for another reason.
Ryu was not good at remembering faces, and every time his other personality rose up, his dark side, it stole certain details from his memory. As such, Ryu only had hazy recollections of yesterday. And now he suddenly felt the urge to ask this stranger if they had met before.
But perhaps that would be too odd of a question.
"I try to stay away from unhealthy foods," he said instead.
"Are you an athlete?"
"I'm a martial arts student."
"Oh, okay. Have you been doing it long?"
"Since I was a kid. So, not very long."
"You seem to take your training very seriously."
That was a statement that Ryu had often found thrown his way. He never knew how to respond to it. In his mind, he was an adequate student, but there was always room for improvement.
"I do my best."
"Have you fought in any competitions?"
"Yes."
"You mentioned Zangief. You mean the wrestler? Is he your friend?"
"Yes. I came all this way from abroad so we could train together."
"I've heard a lot about him. He's a legend."
"If you want to meet him, I could introduce you."
"Really?!"
"Well, he said he'd show me around today, but he got called away on some business. He suggested that I go out on my own. There are some historical sites I wanted to see."
"Historical sites?"
"There is a temple around here. My sensei used to visit it when he was younger. I am on a...pilgrimage."
"Oh."
"Unfortunately, I don't really know my way around."
The other man grinned. "I do know someone who can help."
"You do?"
"Yeah." He pointed at the pink Pokemon munching away on cookies, oblivious to the conversation.
"Uh, yes. But she doesn't like me very much. So that may not work out so well."
"You could try to smile a bit more."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Nevermind. If you need a middleman, I can tag along. She seems okay with me."
He had an openness to him that Ryu was unaccustomed to. "I don't want to bother you."
"It's fine. I'm a tourist too. Might as well take a look around while I'm here."
"Well then, my name is Ryu."
"Terry."
"Nice to meet you."
"Puff!"
The temple was open. Small, tucked away at the end of a badly paved road. Half-covered in snow. But it's gates formed a dignified shape against the sky.
Terry kept to the back and watched the midday ritual of the monks. He tried his best to keep Jigglypuff from destroying anything while Ryu left an offering at the altar.
But as soon as Ryu came out, he was pelted in the face with a snowball.
"Puff puff!"
"You..."
He gave chase, but she was too fast. She rolled down the street and turned into an alleyway.
By the time they caught up to her, she was in a snow filled lot behind a block of crumbling buildings, bouncing from one wall to the next.
Ryu got to her first, with Terry just a step behind. Ryu was out of breath. Terry's face was flushed from the cold.
"What's that?"
The question took Ryu's attention from the rampaging Pokemon for a moment.
In the middle of the lot, there was a military tank. Partly rusted, partly restored. Its cannon aimed at the street.
Terry walked up for a closer look. "It's real," he said.
Ryu swept off the snow from a plaque mounted on the ground. "It's a monument," he said. "During the last war, an important battle was fought here. This machine was a part of it. They've chosen to leave it here to honor the fallen."
Terry was silent. The place seemed as sacred as the temple they had just left.
Ryu was, for once, grateful to the forces of universal chaos that had brought them here. He wouldn't have found it otherwise.
"You should take a picture," Terry suggested.
But Ryu shook his head. "I keep a journal. I'll write about it later."
"A journal?"
"Yes."
"On paper?"
"Yes."
"You should write it down now. Before you forget."
It was a good point.
"Do you mind? It'll take me a minute."
"Go ahead."
Terry distracted Jigglypuff by helping her build a snowman.
Ryu made an entry in his notebook. He wrote about the temple (old bells, prayer wheels), the tank (rust, gun-metal), the snow (white, cold), the erratic Pokemon (likes sugar, hates Ryu), her love for sweets (what did Zangief normally feed her?), and his new acquaintance (blue eyes, long hair, likes hats, probably can fight but keeps his guard down).
When he was finished, he found that Jigglypuff's idea of a snowman consisted of one big snowball with a face on it, sticks for arms, two pointed cat ears on top. She seemed incredibly proud of her creation.
Terry asked him, as they were leaving, "You don't like taking pictures?"
Ryu shrugged. "My teacher suggested that I write things down. It's a mental exercise."
To combat the dark side. Every time it caught him, he blacked out after fits of rage and violence. He lost days of memories at a time. Writing things down before he lost them helped in case he needed to put the pieces back together.
"So it's another part of your training," Terry said.
"Yes. You should take a picture if you want to."
"No. It's alright. I actually only have a burner phone right now."
"I see."
They caught the train to downtown, where they were supposed to meet with Zangief. Crowds were light around this time of day. Ryu was on his phone when Terry unexpectedly fell asleep on his shoulder. Jigglypuff, bunched up in Terry's lap, was also fast asleep.
Ryu decided to leave them be. It must have been the sugar crash. At least for the Pokemon. Terry could have just been exhausted from being on the road.
Zangief met them at a restaurant bar that was less restaurant, more bar. Ryu wasn't sure if he was good to be around more alcohol yet. But Zangief had brought along a bunch of his old wrestling buddies, and they seemed prepared for another night of hard drinking.
"I see you have brought the Jigglypuff."
The Pokemon jumped off of Terry's shoulders landed on Zangief's head. He seemed fully accustomed to her antics.
"Puff puff puff!"
"I see. That's interesting. Did you have fun?"
"Puff!"
"Ryu can't help it, sweetie. His face just looks like that."
"Puff? Puff puff!"
"Looks like you made a new friend too."
Ryu made some quick introductions. As it turned out, Terry was a pretty big wrestling fan. Which was a good thing because Zangief's friends had stories. And the drunker they got, the more they had to say.
Most of their stories seemed to go like:
"...and so I hit the guy in the face with a folding chair! Haha!"
"What happened to the hamster?"
"I'll tell you what happened to the hamster...!"
They ended up barhopping after dinner, and Ryu was already at his limit. The second or third place they went to was a small dingy hole dug out of the remains of what might have once been a jailhouse. Ryu couldn't remember how they got there or how long they'd been there. He didn't usually drink. And after tonight, he was prepared to go sober for the rest of his life.
He sought out the bathroom, found it, pushed open the door. Walked into some alternate dimension. Three-headed monsters writhing against the tiled walls. Plants with teeth growing out of the sink. Their vines hung down from the ceiling. Someone had left the tap running.
And pressed between the monster and the wall was a stranger with a familiar face.
Ryu had no interest in staying long enough to unravel the place or its mysteries. He turned around and sped out as fast as he could. Eventually, he found a side exit and a dark alleyway where he could handle his business quietly behind some trash bins.
He stumbled back inside afterward and made it back to the table where he had left Zangief.
"You are okay, my friend?"
"Ah. Yes. I am...okay."
"Good. Drink this."
Ryu did as he was told. Couldn't taste it. "What was that?"
"Water."
"What?"
"Haha. You already had your adventure last night. We will keep it gentle tonight."
The room was already spinning, he was already seeing things that most likely didn't exist, but well, when Zangief said they should tone it down, maybe they should tone it down. If Ken were here, he'd probably be laughing.
Out of nowhere, Terry appeared next to him. "Hey, Ryu..."
"Hey..."
Terry looked very normal. As if he weren't affected by the tilt of space and time. By the loud music and the other drunks spilling their drinks next to them. He must have managed to stay out of the bathroom and its parallel universe.
Ryu thought that he should probably warn Terry about going in there.
"I like your friends."
Ryu looked away from the empty glass in his hand. "I'm sorry?"
"I said, I like your friends."
"They're Zangief's friends. But thank you."
"They're good people."
"I know."
Then, a hand from the crowd latched onto Terry's hair and yanked him backwards. He spun around, threw a fist, and shoved someone away from him.
Ryu was standing then, one arm in front of Terry. Trying to stop what was about to happen.
Monsters grew out of the shadows in front of him.
Somewhere in the distance, Zangief said, "Here we go again, boys."
But the other men sized up Ryu and the rest of the group. Finding themselves a little short, they fell back through the crowd and slipped out the door.
Ryu turned to Terry. "Do you know them?"
Terry didn't answer.
Woke up in the back of a taxi. Not sure how that happened. Or how he got there. Terry looking down and asking if he was okay. Which meant his head was in Terry's lap. Strange music playing from the speakers. Zangief's voice from the front passenger seat.
Blood in his palm. Was it his own?
"This is not unusual for him," said Zangief. To Terry, not to Ryu.
"Is he going to be okay?"
"He always comes back as himself."
Zangief's friends carried him up the stairs and into the apartment.
He heard their voices, felt them laying him down. In the kitchen, they were still talking, still drinking, though the conversation was quieter.
In his mind, he slipped off back to Sensei's dojo. To the shrine and the incense.
"Control the dark side before it controls you."
Yes, he tried to say. I should have done better. It won't happen again.
He came to on the floor, on his side, under a blanket. His head hurt.
Terry was on the floor next to him, curled up under his jacket, turned away.
Ryu watched him breathe in sleep, calm and even.
The chaos settled. Ryu listened to the sound of traffic outside, water flowing through the building's pipes, the heater clicking on and off, Terry's breathing, until all that remained was emptiness. It was the closest thing to peace he'd known in a while.
He reached across the divide between them and pulled the jacket over Terry's shoulder.
He fell into a dream where they were speaking, but he couldn't remember the conversation. Maybe they had shared too much. Maybe they had crossed a line. They needed their secrets in order to be friends. Only strangers ever bared their souls to each other.
In the morning, Terry was gone. Ryu didn't know what to make of it. As he cleaned himself up in the bathroom, he looked out the window by the sink and saw a figure, head bowed under a cap, travel bag slung over one shoulder, slowly making his way to the street.
Ryu dressed quickly and hurried out the door.
By the time he got out to the parking lot, an unmarked van had pulled up. Two men inside. Terry stood by the window. There was an exchange.
The conversation stopped when Ryu approached.
Terry seemed surprised.
"Are you leaving?" Ryu asked.
"Yeah." He sounded guilty. As if he'd meant to sneak off without another word. "Sorry, you were asleep."
"It's okay. I'm awake now. Are these guys your friends?"
"Uh, no, we just met."
"Do you want some food before you go?"
"Sure..."
Terry said something to the men in the van. One just shrugged. The other stared back.
Terry followed Ryu across the street to the cafe.
"Get whatever you want."
Afterwards, they sat down at the bus stop, Terry with a box of pastries in his lap, tied off with string.
The van was still there, in the parking lot, waiting.
"Were you getting a ride from those guys?" Ryu asked.
Terry looked off to the side. His reply was a re-direct. "You said you were on a pilgrimage. What did you mean by that?"
"I'm touring the old fight circuit that my sensei used to travel. I'm visiting every place he used to go as a fighter when he was younger. Wherever I find a temple, I go inside, leave an offering, and ask for a blessing in his name."
"Is your sensei still alive?"
"Yes."
"Sounds like you two are really close."
"He's like a father to me."
Terry nodded. "You're lucky."
"I suppose I am."
Snow began to fall. The van across the street turned its headlights on.
Terry stood up. "Thanks for letting me tag along yesterday. I like your friends. Maybe we'll meet again someday."
"Which way are you headed?"
"East."
"You're going with those guys?"
Terry smiled. He shouldered his bag again. His fingers hooked the string that bound the pastry box. "Good luck on your training, Ryu." With that, he waved off and started crossing the street.
Ryu got off the bench. A truck horn sounded.
"Howdy."
Leaning out the driver's window was a familiar face, an unlit cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. From the passenger side, the two kids in matching parkas bounced up and down excitedly.
Ryu waved back. "What are you guys doing here?" he called out over the diesel engine.
"Making another run. We're headed back over the ice."
"Which way?"
"Headed east. Do you need another ride?"
"Hold on a minute."
Ryu sprinted across the street. Dodged a couple cars in the process. Caught Terry just as he reached the van.
"Hey, wait a second."
"What - "
"Found you another ride."
"It's okay."
"They're friends of mine." Ryu gestured at the truck. The driver and the kids waved back.
Terry hesitated. "Look, it's..."
"I know them. I came in with them. You can trust them. Okay?"
Terry looked back and forth between the two vehicles. Finally, he relented. He turned to the men in the van. "It's alright. I'll just go with them. Thanks anyway."
The guys glared at Ryu. And Ryu glared back.
Terry nudged him as they walked away. "Guess I owe you one."
"It's nothing."
"I'll see you around, Ryu."
"I hope so."
Terry jogged across the street and climbed into the passenger side of the truck. The kids waved one last time. Then Ryu watched as their father took the wheel and guided the big rig down the wet road.
Ryu watched until they disappeared.
Then he started back inside. The apartment was quiet, blinds still closed over the windows. The others were still asleep.
Normally, Ryu would start his training around this time. But he was in someone else's place, and it was cold outside. He slid back under the blanket on the floor and let his head hit the pillow.
It was warm. The surface of the pond was calm again.
Later on that year, other things would happen, and an encounter with Akuma would see Ryu's dark side dragged out into the open again. With it, he'd lose much of his memory of the previous winter and the time he'd spent in foreign lands.
All he could remember was that the sight of falling snow, through a misted window, always made him feel light, alive.
Be a real man!
Use this small warmth
And bring forth the brightest of lights!