Act 1: Act in accordance with time and change.

Defiance

"Koryu kata Sanchin... Hajime!"

At his teacher's command, Ryo Sakazaki began the demonstration, his fists clenched at his sides. A protracted exhale purged the bad air from his lungs, along with all distraction and doubt from his mind. The toes of his feet pointed inward, and his pelvis tilted forward, allowing his legs to sink into a triangular-shaped stance. All the power in his torso bore down to form an 'iron shirt' of muscle threaded together by sinew and imbued with a veneer of Qi.

Ryo's peer and training partner, Robert Garcia, circled, regarding Ryo's form as their master watched. Ryo took a circular step forward, inhaled, and Robert kicked him, full force, in the stomach. Ryo absorbed the kick, allowing its destructive energy to dissipate around him—as a river flowing around an immovable rock—and he exhaled the bad air with a loud ibuki breath.

Ryo continued with the demonstration, turning to face the dojo's entrance. The door to the training hall opened. Usually, such an event would hardly register in Ryo's consciousness; however, the bob of blonde hair and the familiar face of the entrant caused him to lose focus briefly. It's the girl from the tournament...

"Kiai!" Robert's spirit yell punctuated his kick to Ryo's thigh, and Ryo's leg buckled. Ryo recovered, exhaled and re-centered his Qi. Robert's smirk persisted for the remainder of the demonstration.

After class was dismissed, Ryo made his way to the entrance of the dojo, massaging his thigh. King was long gone, but his younger sister, Yuri, was still seated in the viewing area by the door. He eyed an unmarked paper bag sitting atop the sign-in counter.

"Hey, Yuri," Ryo greeted. "That lady that walked in during my shimé demonstration... What did she want?"

"To return something of yours," she answered. As Ryo reached for the bag, Yuri got to it first and pulled out something orange. She smiled when she recognized it. "What was she doing with your lucky uniform, brother?"

"None of your business." Ryo reached for it, but Yuri was too fast for him.

"Smells like she washed it," she said, putting the uwagi to her nose. "She's a keeper, brother."

Ryo snatched his uwagi from her. "Hey! I wash my gi."

"Really?" She glanced at the calendar on the wall and teased, "Is it October already?"

"What's going on out here?" When their father, Takuma, spoke, the siblings quieted.

Yuri's grin broadened, and she elbowed her brother playfully in the ribs. "Ryo left his clothes at a pretty gaijin's house, father."

"Yuri! Nani o hanashiteimaska?" Ryo said, exasperated.

Unperturbed, Takuma merely grunted, "Ryo." And, with a sideways nod, he beckoned his son over, and they retired to his office, closing the door behind them. Though they were alone, Takuma maintained an air of formality when he addressed his son—his top student. "Yuri told me that thirty prospective disciples signed up for lessons this morning. It is an odd thing given that we are lucky to receive thirty students in an entire year."

Ryo, quite used to his father's indirectness, lowered his head and admitted, "It is because I signed up for the King of Fighters tournament—against your wishes."

Takuma's expression remained measured. "You have your mother's defiance, it seems."

"Aren't you going to ask how I fared?"

"It doesn't matter. I turned the applicants away."

"Why, father? It's not like the school couldn't use the money."

For the first time, Takuma's features betrayed his emotions. "Is that why you did this? For the prize money?"

"No. We are taught to help the needy, so I gave the prize money to charity," Ryo was quick to explain. "I only entered the tournament to test my limits. There is no evil in Kyokugenryu benefiting from the prestige."

"The problem with this kind of 'prestige' is that it brings about the wrong kind of attention, Ryo!" The volume of Takuma's voice, though reserved by Western standards, had grown uncharacteristically loud for a man such as he, a man steeped in ancient, noble tradition. He regained his composure so his words would not be misconstrued. "You will go to the Hombu in Japan and train for one year—without the distractions of your newfound celebrity."

The son averted his eyes. "You're sending me away?"

"This is not a punishment." The father placed an encouraging hand on his son's shoulder. Ryo's blond hair and defiant streak were his mother's gifts to him, which is why it pained Takuma every time he had to discipline him. "You must be prepared when they ask you back next year."

Ryo acknowledged his master's directive. "Hai, Kyoshi!" And he left the office.