Born down in a dead man's town
The first kick I took was when I hit the ground
End up like a dog that's been beat too much
'Til you spend half your life just to cover it up

- Bruce Springsteen, "Born in the U.S.A."

The Pride

After the morning breaks, we go back to what we were, strangers with similar shadows, a parallel fire, shared history. And rage.

There are things that I could tell you.

You never knew your father the way I did, the way our teacher did. You were a child. Men don't reveal themselves to their sons. Never to their sons.

You don't take after him at all. Your brother does, a little.

Adoptive families are often stronger than bloodlines, aren't they? I've watched you work harder at avenging his death than finding your real parents.

Maybe it doesn't matter to you. Who gave birth to you. Where you come from. Maybe it's better not to know.

Don't give me those eyes.

Anger looks good on you though.

I know what you're thinking.

The first time I saw you fight, I knew you were not Jeff's son, not the way your brother was. Your brother followed the creed of Sensei Shiranui down to the letter. He went into a cage match with his traditional gi on, hair long, bowing to his opponent and all that. Got grabbed and tossed around the mat. Remember that? The gi was his downfall. He got caught by the sleeves and trapped. Got his pants pulled down and practically spanked in front of everyone. He got worked.

Must have been humiliating. His first match. His moment to prove himself. And he went down like an amateur.

But I'll tell you the truth. We've all been there. Anyone worth anything has been brought down more than once, broken apart, torn to pieces, and remade. That's the secret. You can't win without losing.

If you ever meet someone who's never had their face knocked down into the dirt - that's someone who's never fought. Not a day in their lives. Those people don't know what it means to step up. Instead, they just got stepped on, and they stay on the sidelines along with the rest of the sheep. All because they're scared of getting hit in the face. So they just fall in line.

But I guess that's something you know all too well, don't you?

What were you thinking when you watched your brother lose? People say that you're both mirror images of each other. But I disagree. You're both drastically different. Night and day.

That's why I stepped out of the dark. That's why I made myself known to you. That's why I told you things that I'd never tell him.

I told you: "Lose the gi."

And you listened. You had such vehement hatred in your eyes. But you heard me. You obeyed.

We all watched you strip down. You hesitated before taking off the pants. But you finally did it. And you stepped into the cage with nothing on but your shorts and gloves. You even twisted your hair into a knot.

And you did what your brother couldn't. You won.

It's not easy to stand like that, is it? Open. Exposed in your own skin. I know the scars you hide. The things you try to deny, even to yourself. I know, you didn't like having your body bared in front of an audience. It must have been hard for you.

But I'm sure they all enjoyed the show.

I know I did.

Terry opened up the fight. Because he knew that Ryu wouldn't. So he made the first move.

Threw his hardest kick at the man's head. And felt it connect as if he'd kicked a stone statue.

Ryu, head ducked, arm raised in guard to take the hit, barely faltered. And he didn't hesitate to strike back with the counter.

The fist caught Terry with his leg still in the air. Staggered him. Didn't feel good. But it didn't take him down. He caught himself, took a step back, made some space.

But Ryu was already there, somehow, with hands that glowed white-blue, hot like electricity. And Terry went for the grab. Missed. And took the full blast of ki heat, all of it, straight to the chest. Felt the floor roll away from him. It was the track, and he was the train. Or roadkill caught under the wheels. Didn't hit ground until he was near the edge. Landed the roll. Rose up, face-first into the Hurricane Kick. It spun him out like a tire. And he fell over the edge, over the gap.

The pit spread its arms wide open to receive him.

This was not where he wanted to be. Not how he wanted to go out. Roy and Doc had said some things about the guy. Terry couldn't recall any of that now. He had done his own research beforehand. Out of everyone on the roster, Ryu had been the one fighter that Terry had hoped for the most as an opponent.

Ryu may not have remembered him, but Terry remembered Ryu.

That stoic traveler, both ridiculously naive and yet somehow fearless enough to wander the world alone. That had been a memorable contradiction.

And in the back of Terry's mind, in the chaos of bad choices he'd made that year, Ryu had stood out as one of the better souls he'd come into contact with, however briefly.

In Terry's world, then as it was now, all bonds were momentary, subject to breaking. He had no reason to hold on. Only for his brother, and a few others, although, now, even those ties seemed to be slipping.

Leaving Southtown had been a mistake.

A part of him had always wondered what would have happened if he'd chosen differently back then. He'd been too restless. Couldn't stay in a place too long, or else the ghosts from his past would catch him with his guard down. Always had to be moving. Even if he didn't know where he was going.

And now? First match in the Smash Bros. pro league, and he was on his way into the pit. One way ticket to the loser's bracket.

He made a desperate aerial jump, took hold of the ledge, pulled himself back on. Slid past Ryu as Ryu fought for his own landing.

Terry, now, back on his feet, hands up, staring down his opponent, shaking stars from his eyes.

They were about twenty seconds into the match.

Only two hundred and eighty left to go.

Don't be a sixty second KO, he told himself. At least outlast the first minute. Give everyone back home a reason to cheer your name at least once.

Terry pushed himself forward. Ryu met him halfway.

Burning Knuckle crashed head-on into the Dragon Punch.

The impact knocked Terry into another dimension. He fell. Blacked out for a second. Came to. Fumbled around. Got up.

Ears ringing. Blood in his mouth. Not good. The lights overhead were hazy. Not good.

He could only hope that Ryu got hit just as bad.

But when he looked up, Ryu was up and standing. His face, a picture of immovable calm. Fists raised. He shifted his feet into a stance.

"There is an aesthetic," Terry's last teacher had said, "that you'll only find in traditional fighting styles. Modern sports fighting could never match their elegance."

"But you agreed to train me in the modern form."

"Yes. I happen to know both. And the modern form suits you better."

"Why."

"Do you trust me, Terry?"

"Should I?"

"You left Master Tung's school so you could train under me."

"Yes."

"Your brother has promised me that he will avenge your father."

"I'm not him."

"You were both raised by the same man."

"Don't bring up my father."

That damn smile. He'd see it in his nightmares, years later.

Ryu came at him again, taking to the air.

Terry moved like a puppet on strings. He was in kill mode now. This was it. Go time.

He clashed with Ryu up high, far above the platform. They traded hits. Point for point. Though Ryu landed more punches than Terry.

One hit got Terry in the face, reduced his vision to blurry static, and threw him to the ground. He left streaks of blood on Ryu's knuckles.

And then, something darkened in Ryu's eyes. His aura changed. The air went cold. The energy around him sharpened, amplified, and his shadow grew until it encompassed him completely.

The look on his face hardened. Something demonic was taking over, and its power was building, making the entire stage tremble.

Terry lurched upright, still dizzy, but not ready to go down, not yet.

A voice hissed in his ear, from the depths of his mind, of his heart.

Now...

Ryu charged in. Palms open, pulled back, like he was readying another fireball.

Now die.

Terry grabbed him by the gi and launched him up, like a rocket, threw him into the upper tiers. Watched him sail up. Then start to come down.

Eyes closed, Terry called up the internal power that his last teacher had given him. Drew a circle in the air with his hands. The intensity pulsated through every muscle, carried through every artery. Like dark magic. A forbidden skill. Rage Art.

Rasho...

Ryu fell into the line of fire.

Eyes now open, Terry pulled the trigger.

Rashomon!

The blast knocked Ryu off his feet. He flew backwards, tumbling across the platform.

Terry watched this with a cold detachment. He felt the walls closing in and realized then that he was blacking out.

The stadium lights lengthened, twisted, took the shape of a familiar smile that still haunted him.

The descent that came next was long and painfully slow.

A blinding explosion lit up the entire stage.

Roy stared into the epicenter. It burned imprints into his retinas, but he didn't look away.

It was a hell of a finishing move.

No one was supposed to get up after a hit like that.

But Ryu...

Fucking Ryu...somehow, lifted a twitching arm, and pressed a hand to the mat. The stunned audience gasped as he started to push himself up.

"No way!" Mac blurted out.

"Impressive," Lucina muttered under her breath.

Doc and Roy both held their peace.

They watched as Ryu rose to full height. He wiped blood and sweat off his chin with the back of his fist. He was shaky, but he was still standing.

Terry was on his feet but not doing good. The power that had propped him up was spent. He listed, body suddenly limp.

Ryu dashed forward. Roy braced for the knock out hit.

But instead, Ryu dropped to a knee and caught Terry as he fell. Terry's red hat rolled off, onto the floor.

The crowd, again, was shocked into hushed whispers.

For a Smash Bros. match, showmanship was rare. It was also extremely anti-climatic. But a win was a win.

The scoreboard flashed the name of the victor in bright lights. The spectators responded with cheers and applause.

The Eternal Wanderer had just taken one over the Legendary Wolf.

Roy thought, with knowing bitterness, that Terry was bound to be disappointed when he woke up.

I went looking for your grave, you know.

Couldn't find anything. Not even under your legal name.

So I tracked down your crew. You made sure they were taken care of. They had money. And you even made sure they had work. Places to stay. Alibis for that night.

That's how I know you front like a motherfucker.

All that gangsta shit.

But your crew was your family. You actually gave a shit. You just couldn't admit it to anyone. But you cared about them more than your own brother.

Billy fought me. But I had to push him into it. Yamazaki didn't take the bait. He pulled me off of Billy. Said they had final orders not to avenge you. Said they wouldn't go against your orders.

They didn't tell me anything else. What happened to your body. Nothing.

But Yamazaki did say one thing. He said that gangsters don't get buried in cemeteries. Said I should stop looking. 'Cuz I won't find anything if the cops can't.

That's the part that bothers me. You're not dead on paper. You're not dead until they find a body.

So you're not dead until I find you.

And I haven't found you.

But I've got this feeling...

I feel your presence everywhere. And you were kind of a menacing asshole. So it's not like it's a good feeling.

I've been all around the world. It's expensive, but I put it on your card. It never gets declined. Someone's been paying it off.

I've been picking fights with different martial artists. Big names and unknowns. I've been going up against all the traditional schools. I've made a lot of enemies. Been doing a lot of things that I probably shouldn't. No one really likes me out here. Every circuit except the underground has me banned. My reputation is shot. They want me out of the scene.

But I can't stop. I don't have anything else. Just this. I'm only good at one thing. The same thing that brought us together. And fucked us up.

Can't go home. Your ghost lingers there the most.

So I've been out on the road. If I keep moving, I guess I still feel alive. If I stop, things start to get to me.

Everything inside of me is at war with itself.

Why did you let go? I had you. I had both hands on you. We could've walked out of there. Together. But you...

You didn't want that. Us. You didn't want us. Am I right?

I never figured you out.

You were always chasing paper. But besides money and power, what else did you want?

You liked playing with fire. So did I. Did we get too close?

We could have gone down together.

If I could replay that round, I would.

You said, "Ride or die," remember? Whatever happened to that?

Ken came by the infirmary with a gift bag. Its contents included beer, energy drinks, bagged pretzels, fried chicken, and a small bottle of whiskey.

Terry was getting checked out behind closed doors. The rest of the crew loitered in the staging area.

"No hard feelings," Ken said, handing the bag over to Mac.

"Cool! I love pretzels!"

"They're not for you, Mac."

"Dude, they got your favorite drink, Luci."

"Seriously?" She peeked into the bag. "Well, hey, Terry shouldn't be drinking this stuff anyway. Not if he's got a concussion."

"We'd be doing him a favor," Mac said, and proceeded to dig through the snacks.

Ken looked at Roy. "How's he doing?"

"Both Docs are with him. I don't think it's too bad."

"Yeah, that's good. Knowing Ryu like I do, I can say that he didn't want it to go down like this."

"A win is a win."

"Your boy just ran out of stamina."

"Endurance is a part of training. Ryu had it better than him. It's a valid win."

"I gotta say, I've never seen anything like that."

"Yeah. Welcome to Smash. There's gonna be a lot of that."

"No, I mean..." Ken paused. "Towards the very end. You may have noticed. Ryu has a special power. It's incredibly strong, but also, incredibly dangerous. Our late sensei made me promise to look out for him. It takes a lot for him to control it. And if he loses control, then it takes him over completely. It's, like, he has this dark side. And when it comes out, there's no reaching him. He just destroys everything in his path. And he'll regret it later. So he does everything he can to prevent that from happening. But when he slips up, then it's my job to keep him in line."

Roy replayed the fight in his head. Remembered the sudden change in energy. The long shadows.

"I see," he said. "That's a big responsibility on your part."

"He's my friend. We're like brothers."

"I know. I can tell."

"Yeah? Well, we trained together. I've known him for years. He's kind of reserved. People think he's got no personality. But it's a cultural thing. He's from the mother land. Same as my parents. But I was born here. So, it's different between the two of us."

"Ah. Yeah. I understand that."

"So, when I saw his dark side come out during the fight, I popped off my chair, ready to get in it. I was about to pull what you pulled on opening night. Fire extinguisher through the window and everything. But... That's not how it went down. I don't know what technique Terry used. But I've never seen anything shake him out of it like that. It usually takes more. A lot more."

Roy sighed. "I don't know the history between y'all. But if you wanna talk to him about it, I'll let him know. He doesn't take losses personally. That much I know about him."

"Well, you need to know something else. Over on our side, the Legendary Wolf isn't exactly popular. He's been causing some problems for us in the traditional schools."

"That I can't answer for. That's something he's gonna have to own up to. I've seen some of that attitude you're talking about. On the way over here, we got into a bit of trouble. He's a good guy, but he feels things a little too much. He carries things too close to his heart. And I don't think he knows what to do with his emotions. He's got a past, I can already tell. He's opening up slowly. I'm not gonna push it. Not yet. But I'll remember what you said. He's gonna hafta face the music eventually."

"I don't want to ask too much of you," Ken said. "Because I have to be honest. The guys over on my side can be bad too. When he first came on the scene, no one wanted anything to do with him. No one liked mixed martial arts. It was...kind of a threat to the sanctity of traditional schools, honestly. But he came up, he started winning fights, and he made it look good. So, some of the hate that came his way was just jealousy and insecurity. They were taunting him, trying to get him to fight. We've had skirmishes. One thing I can say about it is, traditional schools stick together. The mixed martial arts side - not so much. The modern gyms were not united that way we were. And my guys don't like losing. It's a matter of pride. If I hadn't come on scene last minute and set things straight, then there'd be a lot of blood loss over this."

"You're a trainer, right?"

"Yeah. Well, for us, we're called teachers. Or masters. I inherited my teacher's school after his passing."

"Condolences."

"Thank you. It was like a rite of passage. We all have to go through it. Losing him really affected Ryu."

"That's understandable."

"Like I said, don't want to put too much on you, but I feel like you're close to what's going on. Ryu's doing better these days. But he's on the warpath. Our teacher had a brother, a martial artist named Akuma. They were rivals throughout their lives. During their last fight, Akuma prevailed. And it cost my teacher his life. Everything Ryu does is a part of his training to defeat that man."

Roy took a breath. "Well. Based on what we all saw tonight, he's doin' real well on that front."

"I don't want it to happen. I don't want Ryu to ever find Akuma. Because that fight is probably going to destroy them both. But I also know that it's going to happen no matter what. Ryu won't forgive. And he won't be right with himself until he avenges our teacher."

"Hm. How do you feel about it?"

"Me?"

"I mean, do you want revenge too?"

"Hah..." Ken's eyes seemed to look into some hidden place no one else could see. When he focused on Roy again, the corner of his mouth turned upward a little, but it wasn't a happy smile. "My teacher's last words were to look after Ryu. That's what I intend to do."

Roy nodded. "That sounds like the right thing."

"Yeah..." Ken held out his fist. "I appreciate you talking to me."

Roy bumped knuckles with him. "No problem. I'll talk to Terry. Come by anytime you need something."

"I left a pen in the bag. It's got my contact info on it. I'm sure I'll see you guys later. Tournament's still young." Ken offered a friendly grin. "You've got a good team here."

Roy shrugged. "Eh, they alright."

"I take that personally," Mac said around a mouthful of fried chicken.

"We're only as good as our team captain," Lucina added, an open can of energy drink at her lips.

"Chu!" Pichu bounced in agreement over a bag of pretzels.

Roy nodded at Ken. "Their mouths are bigger than their brains. But I guess we'll try to keep it interesting for ya."

Now Ken smiled for real. "I wanna see more of your guys out there."

"You will."

This is how I remember it:

The three of you came into my gym one night. It's late. Mac had said he'd be bringing some friends over who were looking for a place to train. So he brought in the two of you. It was like...fire, ice, and lightning, the three of you kids put together.

Mac's bouncing up and down. He can't wait to get this work out started. He's bumping fists with everybody. He's sayin' hi to people, askin' how they doin'. And from his tone of voice, you can tell that he means it. He's genuine.

Thing about Mac is that he's real easy to like. He gets on well with just about everyone. Even the guys that he's taken down in the ring. He'll always be the first to go in for the handshake. And then, before you know it, they all get to be buddies. He wins 'em over, and half a the time he ain't even tryin' to.

The young lady was a bit different. Spoke proper. Had a good strong handshake. Like she's tryin' to break a man's fingers. A hardness like steel in her eyes. You young cats probably never noticed. All you care about is whether a girl is pretty or not. But take a good look at that one. Even when she smiled, it was like she was lookin' straight through you. A legit thousand yard stare. I've only ever seen that look in someone that young a few times in my life.

And then, there was you. You had both hands in your pockets. I could see that you were lookin' around wit' your eyes. You were watchin' the entrances and exits. You always had your back to the wall if you could help it. You sized up the room in the first second of you walkin' into the place.

I've seen that type of thing before. I know where it comes from.

You were calm. You were unfazed by everything. But you were also incredibly angry.

How did I know? Listen, I come from a generation of kids whose daddies were all in prison. We were raised by our mamas. We grew up angry. I know all about that.

I had to enlist as a soldier to get away from it. To break the cycle.

I know all about your parents' war.

The problem is, no one ever wrote stories about your family and what they went through. No one ever made a movie about it. And so you never understood your parents' world. You wanted to. But you were just a kid.

The thing about stories is, they help you understand where you came from. It's hard to grow up without that connection to your past. It's hard to know that your family's sacrifice went unnoticed. It's hard to live with the consequences without being told the why. And it's hard to live in a place where no one understands.

You were a proxy, Roy. And I know something about that.

No one's gonna put the pieces together for you. The missing pieces of your life, your past, your bloodline. That means, you're gonna hafta do it yourself. Learn your own history. Teach yourself what they never taught you in school. The things your parents had trouble talking about. The things that they saw but never wanted to tell you. Learn it. And take it with you into the future. All the bad, all the good. All the pain and anger. Take it, and turn it into something.

I know you can. I know you will.

You ain't gonna run from this. No matter how broken it is. I'll be your coach if you want me to. I'll be the name on this organization. I'll mentor everybody here. But while every army has a general, each squad still needs a captain.

Any minute now, that nice little lady with the pretty hair is gonna come in here. And she's gonna ask for the person in charge.

And I guarantee you, all eyes are on you right now.

You are the son of Lady Lyndis, after all.

It had been Lucina's idea to mess around with face paint that night.

They had all agreed to walk out with Terry.

For Lucina, rituals were sacred. When a daughter of Ylisse went to war, she always brought a unified army with her. Banners, colors, flags - these things held value.

They weren't a team, not yet. In order to move like a unit, they had to become one through ceremony. They had to at least wear the same colors.

The red came from her makeup compact. She pressed her thumb to the powder and told them all to gather round. She started with Roy. He understood the process, its meaning, and held still for her as she dragged her thumb over the bridge of his nose, under his eye, and again on the other side.

"Mac."

"You know how I feel about makeup..."

"Shush now. Just hold still."

He did as he was told. She drew a solid line across his face, the pattern the same as Roy's. When using paint on someone for the first time, it was best to keep it simple.

"Terry."

She had him duck down so she could mark him the same way.

"And Doc." She turned to the man. "You're the elder here."

"Well, you ain't gotta phrase it like that."

She laughed. "No, for us, it's a good thing. Trust me. Here..." For him, she drew the line across his forehead. "Respect. For Coach Louis."

"Why, thank you. I'll take that."

"You're welcome."

"Pichu?"

"You want some too?"

"Pichu!"

"Of course, you're one of us."

The mouse squealed, obviously delighted. Though the streak of color failed to make it look any more intimidating.

Roy took the makeup case from Lucina. He touched his thumb to the powder. She kept still while he painted the lines on her face, just as she had done for the rest of them.

"Is there some kind of special meaning to this?" Mac asked.

"What do you want it to mean?" Lucina answered.

"I think it means we should do a group selfie!"

Roy groaned and tried to dodge out of the frame. But Lucina hooked his arm and trapped him in place while Mac took the shot.

"Awesome!"

"Tag me!"

"Don't tag me," Roy said.

"Want me to tag Marth instead?"

"Hell no."

"Guys..."

"What's his account? Imma tag him."

"Fuck you so much."

"Guys!"

Just then, the sound of a heavy drum beat shook the walls. Battle music.

"Must be Ryu's walk out song," Roy said.

"It is!" Mac streamed the footage on his phone. The camera followed Ryu through the halls, flanked by Ken and Sheik. Behind him, DK marched with a giant fist raised in the air. Samus walked beside him, Pikachu riding high on her shoulder.

"Is there a delay on the stream?"

"Maybe."

"He looks damn serious."

"Everything that comes out of Samus' camp tends to be."

"Mr. Muscles brought the fire, huh?"

"Are you ready, Terry?"

"Yeah."

"You can take him."

"Chu!"

"Thanks."

"He hits hard," Roy said. "But you can match him. Watch the distance. He has that projectile."

Doc added, "His endurance is on point. Don't try to outlast him. You're gonna wanna end this fast."

"Got it."

There was a knock at the door. Twintelle came through, her heels clicking on the floor. She glanced around the room, fingers hovering over the screen of a tablet. "How are we all doing over here?"

"We were hoping you'd grace us with your lovely presence," Doc said with a wide smile.

Mac exchanged mortified looks with Roy.

Twintelle's eyebrows rose up in amusement, but she seemed willing to humor him. "It's my job to take care of all of you. And I take my job very seriously." Her attention fell on Terry. "You're up."

He took a deep breath. "Okay."

Twintelle look over the rest of the group. "You are all competing as a team, am I right?"

"We..." Mac turned around to the others. "I mean, yeah. That's what we are, right? We're in this together."

"Very good." Twintelle swiped across the tablet screen. "Then I'll need a team name for the announcers."

Silence fell over the room.

Gears seemed to be turning in Mac's head. "I'm no good that this sorta thing," he admitted.

"Low Tier Hackjobs," Roy suggested.

Mac busted up with a laugh. "Come on, man! That's too many words."

"That's three, Mac. Exactly three."

"Might as well call ourselves the Losers, if you're gonna go with that one."

"You got a better idea?"

Lucina cut them both off, shaking her head. "No." She locked eyes with Roy for a moment before turning to face Twintelle.

She took a breath.

"We are Young Lions."

Got in a little hometown jam
So they put a rifle in my hand
Sent me off to a foreign land
To go and kill the y####w man