Obligatory Disclaimer: I STILL don't own Street Fighter or any of its characters.

Chapter Two

"Uhhh…."

Hayao struggled to open his eyes. When they finally did open, he realized he was looking straight up at the ceiling, judging by the fan blades spinning clumsily in front of his eyes. He took a while to register what was going on. He didn't know where he was. He gasped. Where am I? he thought, thoroughly worried.

"You were out a while," said a voice to Hayao's left.

Hayao looked to the source of the firm, commanding voice. It came from a tall, thin man with pale skin and neon blue hair that fell over half of his face and onto his shoulders. He was dressed in a black leather jacket with the Greek omega adorning the collar, baggy red pants, and brown shoes. Hayao looked at this man with contempt.

"What the hell is this? Where the hell am I?" He tried to sit upright, but cried out in pain and fell back down. The man rushed to his side.

"No…don't sit up. He broke two of your ribs, judging by the feel of your stomach."

Hayao settled into the bed he was in. He sighed. This man meant him no harm. He'd saved his life.

"Who was that guy?" he asked.

"He is known only as Q," his rescuer responded. "He travels the world looking for fighters in whom he sees potential, and challenges them by taking the first swing. Sometimes he wins, sometimes he doesn't."

Hayao frowned. "He was too good for me. Oh well…at least I have potential." He looked up to this mysterious man in black. "What's your name, blue?"

The man almost smiled. "Remy…my name's Remy."

"Remy…that's a beautiful name. I'm Hayao…Hayao Watanabe. Nice to meet you…and thank you." Hayao smiled at Remy in a friendly manner.

"I'm sorry about this, but you'll have to stay here until you heal," Remy said. "I can't let you back out on the street with a clean conscience."

"Well, I can heal myself. Just let me stand." Hayao sat up, cringing. Remy placed his hand lightly on Hayao's chest, pushing him gently back down.

"No…you'll hurt yourself."

"Sometimes, Remy, things have to get worse before they get better." Hayao lightly pushed Remy's hand away and struggled to his feet. He could hardly stand up straight, and tears formed in his eyes. He managed to stand completely upright, though, and raised his hands skyward.

"Aquarius! Water of Life!" he proclaimed. Remy looked at him skeptically, until a flow of blue, almost liquid light descended from above and bathed Hayao in its glow. Hayao smiled as the celestial energy mended his broken bones and healed his many bruises. As the technique was complete, Hayao breathed slowly as Remy watched in awe.

"That was amazing…" he breathed.

Hayao grinned shyly. "Great power can be drawn from the heavens, Remy. It can heal almost any wound, provided the wounded one can stand up and call upon the water bearer to do so…"

Remy looked at him blankly. "You're…an astrologer."

Hayao smiled and blushed a bit. "That's right. I have been for years…"

Remy scowled. "You must be one of them…you call yourself a 'warrior,' don't you?"

Hayao scoffed. "Of course not! I'm not a warrior. There's no point in fighting to me besides sport…I fight, but only as a pastime or in self-defense…as was the situation with Q…I don't like to fight with any malicious intent, but sometimes I must. You understand, don't you, blue?"

This time Remy did smile. "Yes…I do. I know exactly what you mean." He straightened himself up.

"I haven't seen you around here…but judging by your face, your accent, and your name, you are Japanese, right?"

Hayao nodded.

"So…where do you live? Osaka? Hiroshima?"

Hayao shook his head with a forlorn look. "No…Cambridge. I was born and raised here in Tokyo…I wanted to sing, that's what I wanted to do with my life."

"What changed?" Remy asked, interested.

"I realized that there's no money in being a singer. Most musicians are destitute for their whole lives. So I decided to go to America, and to Harvard University…I'm going to become a lawyer."

Remy chuckled. "You don't look like a lawyer, Hayao …you don't even look like someone who wants to be a lawyer."

Tears filled Hayao's eyes. "I…I don't! But it's my place in the world to be one. It's my fate. I want to bring money to my family…and support a lover someday…" He was flat-out sobbing now. "Don't you see, blue? It doesn't matter what I want to do! Dreams don't come true! Miracles…don't exist!"

Remy remained calm and indifferent. "So…what if something incredible happens? What if, for example, you find the love of your life while vacationing in France or something?"
Hayao sighed between jagged breaths. "I'd…have to move on. I guess I'd write this person, whoever they may be…but I'd eventually get over it."
"No… Hayao, that's infatuation you're talking about. What I'm speaking of is love. True, incorruptible, everlasting love. The kind of love that lasts you for life." Remy looked down at the floor, his hair falling over his face and obscuring it.

"Well, I've never experienced anything like that…" Hayao looked straight down as well, the tears falling off the edge of his small nose and onto the wooden floor.

"What about you, blue?" he asked without looking up. "You ever felt true love? For anyone?"

"Well, do the math, Hayao," Remy snapped. "If I had experienced true love, then I'd probably be with this person, wouldn't I? I'd be a lot happier, yes? Now look at me!"

Hayao looked directly into Remy's cold, sad eyes. There was a lot of pain in those eyes…loneliness…regret. Hayao found the look in Remy's eyes borderline disturbing.
"Do I look happy to you?"

Hayao was still breathing haphazardly, and emotionally exhausted from this whole experience. He looked away from Remy and started to cry softly again.

"I…I must be going...Thank you so much, Remy, for saving my life, and it was wonderful to meet you."

Hayao walked swiftly out of the small house and into the back alley to which it was connected. After he left, Remy looked closely at the floor. It was still stained with Hayao's tears.

Remy looked at those tears for a long time.