The Colour Purple Chapter 33: a happiness for us…, 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?"

Note to self: Legacy chapter numbering (32- - -), does not match. [Original chapter written 2013]

The prince pointed slowly onto his chin, his index finger dug into his face and further accentuated his angry scowl that slowly built up into a slow rancor.

"If you can hit my FACE, at least once." The Prince challenged. "If you can hit it at least ONCE then I'll tell you where Mr. Big is hiding your friend."

If NOT, then I will MAIM you – and make sure you NEVER fight again.

Chapter 33: a happiness for us…

If NOT, then I will MAIM you – and make sure you never EVER fight again.

The bartender, Prince, as Robert called him, lifted his hands. But to Robert's disappointment his hands emerged only for a moment, before retreating into the shadows. Despite Robert's best efforts the bartender stretched his arm to the dark corner of the bar that was hidden from the spotlight from above.

…

The Prince replied before he threw both open hands over the bar and vaulted in gymnastic fashion, both legs thrown over the last barrier that separated the two, and soon as steps and the tempo increased, Prince was upon Robert, and their worlds – as he crossed that hazy and indiscriminate line that separated emotion - would be united as one.

Right and left again – the prince's toes ripped into the ground, rolling his feet but his heels didn't touch the sheen of the floor of that night club kingdom. Robert grinned because he could see it – he could see the balls of that man's feet touch the ground, and in their wake, was a sparkle of fairy dust that was an afterimage of what once was. Shimmering light and sparkles to remind us, that the prince ran headstrong onto him. He didn't care about what happened next – that much Robert knew.

Step by step – slow to them, but it happened suddenly. The prince ran full bore to Robert – we were fighting now. The prince hunched downwards as he dashed, his body almost parallel with the ground like a bullet. He didn't hold anything back – and he didn't care – because they were fighting now.

{So you won't even bother with tapping knuckles, or bowing low, or any other ceremonial greeting before our fight?} That was fine, Robert thought. Such intricacies were never too meaningful to him, and perhaps to his opponent, it didn't matter… Robert would end it quickly.

Robert rewarded himself with a smile because his enemy offered himself to him, wide open to a logical counter attack. Robert drove his right heel into the ground and spun around as he controlled his body seamlessly. His back faced his opponent and with a forceful thrust of his hip he ripped his left heel backwards. THIS kick. The spinning back kick. A kick that was painfully slow but heaved a devastating blow enough to crumple any opponent.

Behind that TV screen, the man made God controlled all of Robert's actions – because this life was a game. A GAME. A video game beknownst to that boy, a God pressed the C+D buttons on his control pad and commanded Robert to kick his right heel up – full force – to the prince's FACE.

Robert's heel was inches from his enemy's face. He could almost feel the blazing heat draft into his body, hear the sound of jet engines rev up loudly when he sent his attack in motion. Robert imagined it – such a thundering attack would flatten that arrogant prick's nose and send him lurching back. The engine roared louder, faster, louder faster. With this, Robert was SURE that he would win this bet. The horse kick viewed only from the corner of Robert's eyes as he twisted his entire body. I will rip into you – I will throw you back – because THIS is how this story should end. Then the deafening sound of the sonic boom as all his potential energy reached its apex.

A thirty-pound kick thrust into the Prince.

As an answer, the prince's light touch, he caressed the soft flesh behind his left ankle, pushing it just a mere inch off target. In so doing, the prince's left hand wiped away the darkness and in its wake exposed a cold and frigid face that was tempered for decades.

Softly, with great care – Prince placed his right hand on Robert's shoulder – with a love that spanned a DECADE.

A slow romance.

Before Robert's mind could comprehend what came next the world that he witnessed in front of his eyes began twirling. The picture perfect scenery in front of him began to turn like a top on its axis. HE soon realized that it wasn't the world that was spinning. Head over heel, it was not the world that was turning – it was Robert, he was spinning in mid air. "Nande ya nen?!" Robert sputtered in confusion and disbelief. You've got to be kidding!

Just moments from Robert's heel contacting the man's nose, just inches, the prince hunched down further and spun his body forcefully clockwise – spinning, turning like a wooden top strafing round Robert's frozen body until he was at the edges of Robert's vision. This is what 20 years of FIGHTING tantamounts to. The prince turned his body clockwise, while his appendages swirled round, his left palm slapped Robert's heel harmlessly to the side. In the same momentum as that hand parried Robert's sure attack aside, the prince danced around his enemy, vaulted off the hand on Robert's shoulder, and his left spinning heel embedded itself into Robert's right cheek without apologies.

In one fluid, perpetual motion - a parry – then a sword like KICK, in its wake, was a sparkle of fairy dust that was an afterimage of what once was

Twisting his body round clockwise, the PRINCE put his hand on Robert's attack and parried the spinning back kick – milliseconds later, his left spin kick embedded themselves into Robert's face. Yes. This is what 20 years of fighting tantamounts to. In one smooth motion of his body, [the Prince] parried his enemy's attack and delivered his own attack that drove Robert skidding to the ground.

The prince's left toes touched the ground as she found herself succumbing to the chain of gravity. He put both fists up to his temples as he descended. With his arms in right angles, elbow pointing forward proudly – he knew.

…

Robert on the floor, heaved himself up by his elbows while he tried valiantly to organize the swimming afterimages that was the world in front of him. "Not… bad." He said in a scoff – arrogantly. Robert stroked the bangs of his hair handsomely with his right hand while propping himself up with his left arm. He chuckled to himself. "Not bad, that really hur…"

Robert was not granted the luxury of finishing his interior monologue – he was a fool if he thought he would be allowed to compliment himself – compliment himself – arrogantly.

With his entire body the prince kicked with his left into Robert's chest. He paid no care neither to honour nor justice – instead, the prince kicked his enemy while helplessly on the ground beneath him – caught in his own arrogant world – while he lay splayed on the ground, the prince kicked him like a DOG.

His eyes taut – Robert's pupils shrank to pinholes, wanting to drive his enemy's ribs into his heart, he wasn't content until his enemy shut – his – mouth, until he destroyed him so much that he would never ever – that he would never ever fight again.

"Are you having fun?" the prince whispered to himself. "I don't understand… I don't understand… Nani ka, tanoshiindarou?" What's so FUN about all this?

What is so wonderful about fighting? For 20 long years.

…

What holds a [happiness for us]?

…

Clarity.

…

Present day – Present time.

King made her way down those flights of revolving steps into the dark bar she called her own. The clock struck 13 when she turned that knob and awakened her radio. As with her usual ritual the drip came with a familiar beat when each drop produced that dark, rancid flavor of coffee.

Present day – Present time.

As each silent drip from her coffee maker welcomed a new day, she turned the knob at that sink behind her bar. With her hands twirling amongst each other – she made about her usual 'morning' ritual. Polishing that – with great care – lovingly and yet so hatefully. Until it shone with a crystal brightness in that dark world. Even if the clock struck 13, with the door closed, her own world was dark. With great care she continued to rub that crystal finely eventhough it would never shine perfectly as she imagined it in her mind.

She giggled slowly. Because her mind remembered something that happened long – a very, very long time ago.

9 years ago – something HORRIBLE happened.

"How long has it been?" King wondered out loud under her breath. A low tone emerged from the clock just across the room; it was now 1 PM. As she always did, as reliable as the rising and setting sun, she began her day as she walked down those steps from her bedroom on the second floor of La Bijoux, shuffled over lethargically behind the bar and set about her faithful ritual…

King looked down at her hands, her hands that once upon a long time – were always dry, calloused, and cracked. The blood had permanently made stains on the edges of her fingertips and dirt had collected disgustingly under her nails.

That was quite a while ago.

Now, her hands had become smooth, and soft to the touch. She held her hands in each other, fingers tracing up and down to find some flaw, some reminder of that moment, that one moment she tried to remember valiantly.

She wanted to think fondly of the past, and forget that she was now 29 years old. Likely, she was now a haggard, old woman by any modern day prince's standards. Her father was always quick to remind her of that – that she had to get married before she turned 30, or else, once again she wouldn't be good enough – that she would be a failure to him once again.

King didn't want to think about that right now, shaking her head from side to side with eyes closed. She needed something, anything to bring her back to some other time. What were people wearing, what was playing on the radio then? Tina Turner? Van Halen? Madonna? 'You can't start a fire…'

"Tsk." King uttered in frustration. As a force of nervous habit she raised the back of hand and made the motion to bite her nails, likely the cause of all those bloody fingertips from so many years past. Her mouth opened but just as her fingertips were inches from her teeth, she stopped – and held the back of her knuckles under her nose. It was a nostalgic feeling that she couldn't quite place in her mind. It was an unconscious habit – a way for her body to communicate to her.

She held her hand there for a little longer, then, playfully, when she was quite certain no one was around her in that dark, empty bar called La Bijoux - on a whim she pulled her knuckles to her nose to smell them. But. Before she could take a whiff, her soft lips inadvertently touched the back of her hands first.

Her mind didn't quite understand at first, but when her lips accidentally kissed the back of her hand, her eyes began to well into soft warm pools. {Eh?} King asked herself. {Eh..?} Kings mouth trembled as she kissed her own hand. A tear slowly, yet peacefully streamed down her face, her thin eyebrows drooped weakly as she felt herself being transported to place far away. Even if her mind couldn't remember, her body did. She stood behind that dark bar. The dark bar called 'La Bijoux' that place that was named 'The Jewels'.

…

I'm such a horrible person... I never want to forget this memory again.

…

"Are you having fun?" the prince whispered to himself, his eyes were now frigidly bloodshot, his teeth gnashed in a seething, bubbling RAGE. "I don't understand… I DON'T UNDERSTAND! Nani ga, tanoshiindarou?!" What's so FUN about all this?!

The prince didn't even grant Robert the luxury to take a breath. With his right foot he kicked Robert's face. The impact – the shock was impressed on Robert's eyes as they darted into pinholes. He flew up and tumbled backwards twisting and turning before landing on his back. A thin splatter of blood soiled the once immaculate floor.

{He… he kicked me while I was on the ground.} Robert stammered in his mind. His mind was now in disarray and his eyes could not focus because the world around him swirled round in a haze. He could see three versions of the world overlap as they swirled out of focus. {The fucker kicked me while I was down.}

I have to stay awake – I have to keep talking to myself. Or else, Robert knew, he wouldn't be able to survive the next attack. Yes, that was the logical succession of events. Keep talking, keep rationalizing to yourself, was what he thought. Keep your mind lucid, keep your body livid, he commanded. Another attack is coming.

This son of a bitch isn't the same as the rest. He reminded himself… That haggard brute of a biker in that dive bar, even that rastaman in that alley, or even that strange aikido geezer. They fought ferociously – but still it wasn't the same. {When I fought them, when I fought them…} Robert reminded himself. They smiled as if it was just another day. Even when I didn't notice it then, they smiled.

This prince was different… he… he truly…

The world was simply white and black to Robert for a moment. Light and dark. The light slowly disappeared as a looming shadow floated ominously over Robert's eyes. He TRULY wants to KILL me. The light finally disappeared and Robert looked upwards and only saw darkness.

Robert tilted his body to the side at the last moment. With a cracking roar, the floor where his face originally was blew into explosion. The prince's foot barely missed its target as Robert evaded just the precise time before his face would have caved in – before his nose drove itself into his brain.

His eyes finally focused as his body pleaded them to. The brim of his enemy's Mafioso hat still covered their eyes. Still that venomous scowl glared down at the boy menacingly. Robert's eyes shrunk in a panic – he looked up and burned that ferocious image in his mind.

…

"Come! Come at me!" Takuma Sakazaki shouted to Robert with both palms waving inwards. "Show me what you got, kid."

Robert's demeanour didn't change at all. He grinned slyly and ran forward fearlessly at his master. Left and right, spanning distance in an instant, his left foot erupted into flames, then his right followed suit. The spurt of flame exploded to life and lingered only for an instant on the dojo floor that had been treated with chemicals for decades to withstand the torture of the ultimate fighting art. Still, before the flames died out they marked Robert's path as he rushed towards Takuma fearlessly. One step then two, three, then the fiery footsteps disappeared. Robert's arms were wide open spinning in pinwheels and he looked as if he was jumping from one rooftop to another. Freedom.

A DREAM and a FREEDOM.

The feeling of freedom he felt deep in his core. From inside his chest, the ecstasy bubbled up and erupted onto the glee that was painted on his face. He was free. No longer was he concerned about school, he was no longer concerned about his father who had laid a path for him – a life that was not his own choosing.

None of those things mattered to him. His teenage turmoil with the pressures of adulthood, of self-esteem and the unknown future that lay ahead. Oh how I wished this feeling would last forever, and keep me away from misery. This is indeed what Kyokugen offered him. Kyokugen Karate – the ultimate fighting art.

As the chains broke with a sweet crack, Robert was launched skywards. This is the reason. Robert was able to twist his body around proudly – he was able to learn this technique so quickly and he was too eager to show it to his master. He turned his body around effortlessly. He felt weightless – like a clear, lucid dream. Robert threw his right foot forward and at his mind's command he could hear the roaring jet engines ramp up in a whirr, then a roar. Then a boom as the energy reached its peak. HINSHIPUKEN!

HINSHIPUKEN!

Robert's body propelled itself forward, defying gravity, insulting the meaningless laws of physics. The launching flying kick headed right at Takuma's midsection.

"You IDIOT!" Takuma spat out. The old man hammered his left foot to the side and into the ground. In the same motion he spun his right foot in an arc backwards and tilted his upper body aside. Robert's kick only hit air. Takuma had simply sidestepped the young Robert's best attack, and the gawking look of disappointment, of defeat, of sadness only lasted an instant as Takuma attacked with a quick right cross into Robert's face. A textbook counterattack.

It was as a simple dodge and counterattack. A+B. A. To Robert it felt as if he was hit by a baseball bat and he spun uncontrollably in the air. His axis and sense of balance was shot and he simply tumbled onto the ground. His shoulder, then his face skid on the floor, twisting his head back in an unnatural position – almost as if it would snap off at his neck. He twisted and turned until finally impacting the wall as a backstop. Each hit compounded the damage and the boy lay on the floor helpless in his world of pain and suffering.

"You idiot. Why are you going all out on the first attack?!" Takuma scolded, not caring if his pupil could hear him, if he was even still conscious.

A familiar scene, the world was a series of images rolling like a kaleidoscope out of focus. Robert couldn't even think of what to do next. He merely lay there and while he could hear his master, he was unsure if he could understand.

"That may work if you face someone weaker than you, it may even be plausible if you're fighting an equal, but mark my words, if you try that against someone SUPERIOR to you – then I ASSURE you - you will DIE." Takuma warned.

In this world you will eventually make the mistake of fighting someone better than you.

"I will be very angry, you idiot." I will be very angry, Takuma said. "…if I receive that call on the telephone at 2 AM.. and have to pick up your dead body from the morgue…"

I don't care about you. I don't care if you never really learn what I have to teach you. It doesn't matter to me if in ten years you forget everything and you decide never to fight again. A businessman? A doctor? Or maybe a lawyer? We always forget. In exchange for a peaceful and complacent life – we always forgot what it was like. That childhood life when we were powerless. Where our only asset was fearlessness, arrogance, and TIME. Fighting every day, those trials seem trivial, and without meaning when we grew up.

Everyday we wanted to become better, become stronger. Fight others, fight ourselves, and fight the bleak future that was laid in front of us. I do not want to become a businessman, I do not want to become a doctor, and I don't want to become a lawyer.

"I don't really care if you die because you can't seem to understand these fundamentals I am teaching you. But, I will be very angry. When I receive that call at 2 in the morning." Takuma said. "What will anger me the MOST is if I have to face your father, and tell him…"

Takuma said…

"If I have to explain to him that Kyokugen Karate FAILED to defend his only son's life."

Why was I born? Why did I have to suffer so very much when I was young? Will [fighting] promise me happiness? Amidst all this pain that I endure every day - every single day?

…

That ferocious image. That evil scowl. Robert didn't exactly know what he feared the most – was it the Prince's evil face that lay in wait under that brimmed hat, or was it Takuma's devilish scowl. Was it the fear that he would never see Yuri's smile ever again. Or maybe he feared seeing Ryo's face from heaven, Yuri's elder brother's face contorted in tears because they were not able to save her. …and through fear, we somehow felt respect. The fear of death seemed inconsequential now. There was no room for fear in [this] place.

If Robert failed to hit Prince's face – this much he knew – he would never see Yuri again.

Robert saw the back of his hand as it covered his eyes from the dim lights. The eclipse loomed over his face, and his body moved on his own. His training seemed to take command and he swung both arms to the side.

Robert tilted his body to the side at the last moment. With a cracking roar, the floor where his face originally was blew into explosion. The prince's stomping foot barely missed its target as Robert evaded just the precise time before his face would have caved in – before his nose drove itself into his brain.

Robert tumbled to the side and in that motion put both open palms to the ground, tucked his hand inwards to roll into a stand. His hands were up to the sides, solidifying his fighting stance once again. His mind was still jumbled but slowly he made himself focus and regain his bearings.

Robert curled all ten fingers inwards into cracking fists with enough pressure so that the pain in his palms could steady his mind.

"Whatever old man." Robert grunted. "I'm still alive." Kyokugen Karate will lead me [there] – lead me to [that] place. "You're WRONG old man." Robert declared. KOKUGEN KARATE rescued me from a dark loneliness, and it's here…

Robert lowered both his fists to his sides and opened his defense confidently. The young man's aura floated from his shoulders with a haze. Then Robert stomped his right foot furiously into the ground – pushing that accelerator pedal deep, deep into the ground, they opened full bore into chimneys of fire, twisting turning on itself. The fires stopped – painted red and yellow claws in the air like a still, unmoving picture. An unmoving painting of the young man's determination stood still on his shoulders, then they reversed, the swirling fire turned the opposite way like a corkscrew back into his body. Into his shoulders the fires drove in, then round his biceps, down his forearms before collecting into his right hand.

Prince simply put his hands up in ready position above his temples with knuckles back at his face and fingers forward in that strange, yet familiar stance.

Robert turned his upper body clockwise and placed his right, clawed hand just by his eyes. He let it all out – he turned and lurched his body forward. The fire in his right hand launched to life. "Ryugeki…" Robert began.

Kyokugen.

When he drove his foot into the ground to plant himself firmly, the cams actuated, throwing red hot pistons into a rhythmic motion up and down in that machine.

Ryugeki…

The fire swirled into itself in Robert's hands. Originally a whim and a thought in his mind, it became reality. Swirling in a vortex.

Kokugen Karate will…

The steel shafts hit each other reliably, then twisting themselves, the teeth locked. Gears turning like a welcome machine. The fire imploded into itself and willed itself to create mass. A massive attack.

…

Silence as a million million voices hushed quiet…

"I assure you, old man, your Kyokugen… can never fail me."

…

"Ryugeki…" Robert invited the fireball in his hand – what was once a weak hope, an invisible plea, a wordless wish, had become a reality.

RYUGEKI KEN!

What holds a [happiness for us]?