The Colour Purple Chapter 19: Asian Wonder, a king of fighters fanfic

The Colour Purple... The King of Fighters '95

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This (chapter) fanfiction was originally written circa: [XX.96] (Thank you)

"Which Character are you?"

It is perfectly alright to question [G_O_D],

Ask him how he can stand idle,

And simply watch, as a noble man suffers…

…and the answer you hear in your head –

will determine your destiny…

…for all eternity

-03.28.06

Chapter 19: Asian Wonder

"Hello, this is Jouta, I am not here right now, but if you leave your name , number and a brief message after the beep, I will try to get to you. Bye Bye."

-BEEP-

...

When it's too silent you can't help but beg for something, for anything to happen. It was this way throughout the coliseum; Blinded by the darkness, the crowd isolated themselves with their individual murmurs which was eaten by the evening air. In an instant, a monotonous humming sound could be heard. Live speakers. The crowd fell silent and gradually, the humming drowned out the whistle of the wind. There was a shrill whistle of the microphone, and soft breathing resonated throughout the complex... Random piano keys chimed and then a voice came.

"Do you feel the night?..." Cooed the voice. "I'm crazy for you..."

As if on cue, the crowd exploded with life, cheering and screaming in a fueled frenzy. The bodies jumped and screeched in glee. Robe clad fans tied their headbands, started beating on their drums and throwing confetti in the air. Teenage girls swooned as their banners and flags darted up in the air. Like marshmallows in a bowl of cereal, floating over their heads. On them were flashy words like [Bennimaru Forever!], [We LOVE Bennimaru.], and the like. A mantra spread through the crowd, the chorus to the coming song... "SO LOVE ME, TAKE ME AWAY WITH YOU..." The piano continued playing, now, less random, a beat started to form, a rhythm, and with the piano, the crowd sang, pleading for their idol to come. The piano stopped abruptly and at the same instant, a lightning bolt came down; A man on stage caught it in his like as if he were a lightning rod, and with the flickering electricity on his hand, you could see his head as he put it close to the light. Reminiscent of the blues brothers, he had the legendary hat and shades.

...

-BEEP-

"Oi Nikkaido, this is Zachary... Guess what, Tom just had a baby, we're all going to his house to celebrate, hope you can come okay?"

-BEEP-

"Hey Bennimaru, What's with you? You still on tour or something? You selfish bastard! HAHA ^_^. Just kidding, come on, the boys and I are going to get a beer, you wanna come? Call me okay... 862-3305."

-BEEP-

...

He stretched his arm up in the air and the electricity slithered down his arm around his black sport coat and slithered right down to his dark slacks. The spark of lightning disappeared into the floor. As it hit the grount, it was immidiately absorbed by the stage – hungering for its life, its electricity, it ate it all - the floodlights and multi-coloured spotlights illuminated the performer. The man stood with his legs in an upside-down V, his arms behind him. Five other men, similarly dressed marched onto stage and stood as their lead stood in front of them. The lead took off his hat and shades with his left hand, threw them to the crowd and in the same motion, used his right hand to shred his coat and slacks into rippled tatters. With all attention focused on him now, Bennimaru Nikkaido stroked his hair up until it was stiff and standing. Bennimaru covered his face with his hand and seductively, slowly slid his palm down, revealing his androgynous face. Continuing his slow ooze, his hand ran down his sleeveless, shoulderless black leather shirt, all held up by a single leather strap. Bennimaru had his white, skin tight leather pants that probably squeezed his balls up his ass. Bennimaru snapped his hands up to his trademark hair one last time and arched his back, putting his crotch forward. With the speakers put up to their limits, the synthesizers, organs and electric guitars started dishing out hip, fast paced idol pop beats that fused with the girls' screaming. The five dark costumed men behind Bennimaru danced spastically in unison. In one harmonized choreography, they sent their hands up, looked to the left, jumped up and spun around, did splits and started another routine.

...

-BEEP-

"Nikkaido, this is Mickey. Man you work so much, you don't answer any of our calls anymore. Are you still alive? Catch you later okay..."

-BEEP-

...

Bennimaru ran to the michrophone and as if he was going to swallow it, began singing, and in between gasps looked sweetly at the hypnotized audience, occasionally catching a glimpse of a fainting fan.

Not only was Bennimaru a cute idol face, body good enough to eat, or was it his singing that captivated the audience; it was the light show that was the crowd pleaser. During the chorus and the more upbeat runs, he would wiggle his fingers, and lightning would run though in between his digits, slithering around his arm and jumped up and over like juggling balls. Bennimaru put his legs together, hung his arms up in a makeshift cross and let the lightning envelope him in a chain of light.

The adolescents love his music...

"...LOVE ME NOW..."

Tunes of easy love, young love...

"...DANCING INTO THE NIGHT..."

Where, at that time, was simply wrapped in candycane and tinfoil, the kind of love, the only kind the youth can understand.

"...I WANT YOU... I'M IN LOVE WITH YOU..."

A fairytale... The music is as falsified as snow white, but sometimes...

"...I'M CRAZY FOR YOU..."

If the ignorance makes you happy...

"...I'M CRAZY..."

It's a simple preaching...

"...CRAZY..."

...

-BEEP-

"Jouta. Hello... Uhm... I just wanted to say hi. I haven't talked to you in such a long time. You're never home and I can never reach you at your work number... call back okay...

I love you... click..."

-Beeeeeeep-

...

It's crazy. It's so easy to fool these mindless youth. Lost and confused, they hunger for a hero, a hero with all the answers. He isn't a leader, not a God; unfortunately, he wasn't a hero as well. He was nothing but an entertainer. He gives his fans what they want, reassurance in a youth that can be lived like a pop song, easy and care free. No, he's no hero, none of the songs are his own, none of the dance steps or the fancy lighting. He is nothing but a medium for the zombied masses; and at the end of the concert, he picks up his red and white electric guitar and slings it over his shoulders. He runs his fingers over it slowly, gliding his hand up it's shaft. Remembering... He plucks a note and with a light smile, he ends the show like he always does...

Bennimaru puts the guitar onto the side and speaks coolly, solemnly to the mike...

"Thank you." Bennimaru says as the lights dim and leaves him alone . All this is the fame, glory, all for his followers.

...

"Good luck, Jouta." A young red haired girl said behind her boyfriend as she tugged lightly onto his black leather jacket.

Jouta Nikkaido was a simple boy who lived out in a farm somewhere in the outskirts of Hokkaido, Japan, but the simple life wasn't for him, he thought. With only his guitar and his ambition, he decided that he would make a name for himself. Maybe in NHK he mused, in little Tokyo, maybe he could make his dreams come true.

"Even if you don't make it, I'll still be waiting, don't be afraid to come back okay?" She said sweetly. She couldn't bear to see her beloved Jouta off, but she didn't want to get in the way of his dream. Jouta only lived for one thing, to be free of such a simple life, and be a musician. She had fond memories of them sneaking out in the middle of the night , and up on green hill, Jouta would bring his guitar. It came naturally for him, as if his fingers were dancing, plucking lightly on the guitar strings, and he sang like the evening wind. Soothing and calm. His songs were about a simple life, about things you take for granted, but she enjoyed Jouta's ballads about love the most. Love... It was harsh and painful, but you knew it was real...

There was a long hiss as the shuttle arrived.

"Saa… Well, I'll be seeing you." Jouta said as he waved when he got up the steps.

"I love you." She replied, her wide happy smile covering her teary eyes.

Jouta jumped down, kissed his girlfriend one last time and returned to the annoyed yet chuckling bus driver. Jouta sat down at the very back of the bus and sank his hand deep into his pockets. A crumpled white piece of paper had three names... Hide, Toshi, Yoshiki and a phone number. These guys needed a singer, hopefully someone who could do rhythm guitar, and Jouta wanted to try his luck.

...

At night these streets come alive. People bickering down the sidewalks, the bike gangs roaring across the asphalt, the occasional squirming and misunderstandings here and there. Although there were one of two discos, this is LIVE HOUSE TERRITORY, a crammed basement stuffed with enthusiasts who want something fresh and new. Hopeful garage bands longing to make it big. Strut and fret their time to be judged by cretins. There is a neon sign above the descending staircase. Live House GUN. A place where you humble yourself like trash and but in the end, make your dreams come true. AND YOU CAN DESTROY EVERYONE deep down inside.

There are no commercials, no billboards, no cocky radio deejays bloating your ego. All they have is faith and that small black felt board with those cheap white plastic letters. Toshi, Yoshiki, Hide and Jouta. In a bad haircut band called GUY. Screaming, hungering to be noticed for their worth.

...

"Hide, get your bass, let's tune." Toshi said as he dragged his guitar across the studio.

"Jouta," Yoshiki called from the other side of the room. "Master (the title for the guy who owns the live house), said that a talent agent is gonna be in the crowd tonight; you'd better do good. Got it?"

"No problem!" Nikkaido replied with a reassuring smile, his red and white electric guitar in hand. Jouta ran his fingers through the strings like anyone would make one's fingertips dance on a pool of water. "We're gonna make it big, I promise you..."

...

"Nikkaido-kun," Master smiled. Master is probably in his mid thirties, his white silvery hair is tied back in a ponytail. It's not his black goatee that makes him look quite strange, it's his curly mustache that twirls in a spiral... Yes, like curly fries.

This was it.

"Lucky break. Ms. Takahashi wants to speak to you alone in the office." Master brushed up next to Nikkaido and patted his butt with both hands.

Jouta Nikkaido's heart skipped beats when he stood face to face at the office door. What was behind door number one wasn't merely a car or a new Tupperware set, it was his band's future, his future and his dreams. A million thoughts ran through his mind that made the gibberish of the New York stock exchange seem tame. Should he have changed, was his pony tail neat enough, what should he say, should he be formal or easy going. Jouta stretched out his hand, and the doorknob gyrated with his tension. Before he could even take the ritual deep breath, the door swung open, and Ms. Takahashi bade Nikkaido in. Jouta's eyes widened and his heart fell a thousand miles. Something in the back of his neck snapped but Jouta tried to force himself to regain his composure.

"So, you're… Jouta… Nikkaido..." Ms. Takahashi cooed seductively as she looked Jouta over, head to toe like a hunk of meat.

Takahashi was only a head shorter than Jouta, but this didn't hide the aura that was radiating from her. Takahashi's hair was in a ball, all pulled up to resemble a plum with tiny streams of hair occasionally running down the sides. Her lips were blood red, and her thin triangular sunglasses made her look more sinister. With her manicured, 2 inch long fingernails, Takahashi invited Nikkaido to sit and went straight to the point.

"I was impressed." Ms. Takahashi smiled. "I want you. I can start your concerts and make you famous."

At that moment, Jouta's heart raced with joy, and he couldn't hold his smile back.

"You liked us? Really?!" Jouta exclaimed with his hand behind his neck in embarrassment. "You're going to give GUY a deal?"

"No... You don't understand..." Takahashi said grimly between puffs of her cigarette. "Who I want... Is YOU..."

"I... I don't get it.." Jouta said confused.

"I don't care about your band, all I want is just YOU. With your looks, I can make you an idol star in no time." Takahashi smiled. "You don't even need to worry about songwriting, all you need is some dance lessons and you're all set. With that [face], you'll make it in no time."

Each heartbeat was as loud as thunder and felt like an eternity to Jouta.

...

"You son of a bitch!" Hide cursed as he swung his fist into Jouta's belly, making Jouta wince and crumble against the wall.

"What the fuck.." Toshi cut in, shocked at the sudden turn of events.

"Tell him, Yoshiki." Hide growled, lighting a cigarette and crushing it between his lips.

"The concert... It's canceled." Yoshiki said in a monotone, without even looking up from his slouch. "They say Takahashi was behind it."

"Neeh, Jouta... You've been skipping band jams lately, and you've been seeing that Takahashi bitch a lot. Just what the fuck are you up to?"

"Look, don't get angry..." Jouta tried to calm hide down as best as he could.

Hide slammed his palm to the wall and eyed Jouta menacingly.

"You sold us out... Didn't you?" Hide growled.

"Look, let's not jump to conclusions, right Yoshiki?" Toshi tried to plead to everyone.

With his expressionless face, Yoshiki hid behind his dark circular shades... "I don't know anymore."

"Answer me, damn it!" Hide yelled at the top of his lungs. "What've you been doing behind our backs all this time?"

There was no answer and Jouta merely looked to the side, not wanting to meet eyes. Hide cocked his fist back, but through frustration just gave up and picked up his bass.

"The things you hear in a bar aren't entirely bullshit you know, Jouta." Hide scowled as he opened the door. "You wanna be a pussy licking idol singer? FINE!" Hide slammed the door and Toshi followed to try and calm the bassist, who knows what Hide might do with a temper like this.

"If there's a jam, WE'LL call you." Yoshiki mumbled as he slung his duffel bag over his shoulders. It was his way of saying that it was all over if Jouta wanted out. Jouta knew, and with that, Jouta was left alone in the studio. It happened so fast, and the empty room seemed to sneer and taunt him, like a million freckle faced tattle-tails snickering "GOOD FOR YOU!" while wagging a million index fingers left and right. Jouta bit hard and grimaced uncontrollably, making the veins on his temples pump. With all the strength he had left, he slammed his fist on the wall, and to his surprise, waves of electricity appeared from the walls and ran through his fingers. In a delirious state, Nikkaido tensed all over, unknowingly drawing all the current from around him. Nikkaido's eyes started to whiten, and his head felt like it was about to split. In an uncontrollable haze, he sent his fist through the wall, in an effort to expel the power within him.

"I don't care about your band, all I want is just YOU."

EPILOGUE:

"The concert... It's canceled." Yoshiki said in a monotone.

The lights dimmed and slowly, the speakers died out. As the crowds murmurs fade away, the peace and stillness return to the stage. Without a word, the roadies come from the shadows and do their jobs, pulling wires and lifting speakers. There are no more cheering crowds, or flashing lights. Bennimaru's time is up.

-BEEP-

...