The Colour Purple Chapter 38: les garçons, 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]

Then… The star that had fallen from the night sky glimmered defiantly at its last moments, and, and it was no more.

"I hear you." Little girl. I will grant your pure wish.

Chapter 38: les garçons

Shonen – noun, Japanese, (a boy - English) :

1. a male child, from birth to full grown;

2. a young man who lacks maturity, judgement, etc.;

3. a child who is unfearful and faithful to all events still unexperienced;

4. the Rival Complex.

…

The young boy, Robert thrust his left foot into the smooth, clean floor – and without grime or soot to impede his rage, he was able to twist it by the ankles as a preface to his fiery right cross.

"Hoshi-san, yo…" Mister Star, Robert reminded the deity up above, as Robert reminded himself why HE was here. "I don't care about my body…" If I must offer my body to you – if I must offer my pride to your bidding – let it be. I NO LONGER care. BUT, if you are truly the reason we are ALL still, alive, here – then, to fulfill your duty, you must see that baby girl's wish to the very end. "I BELIEVE!" Robert roared. I believe.

Understand this Mister Star, that, if you do not protect me, if you do not guide my fist true, then, then Yuri will DIE! Robert's mouth opened wide to the limits of his flesh, skin and sinews.

Can you HEAR me now? Stars in heaven? Presented with this hard fact, you CAN NO LONGER ignore my plea. Make my fist connect with his face. It's no longer about my pride as a man, it's no longer about the honour of Kyokugen Karate, and no longer about selfish survival. If you want to make her wish come true, then you HAVE to see this fight though until the very bitter end!

…

This. This is the reason we offer our simple, mortal bodies to the last strings of destruction. THIS, is the meaning of fighting.

"The art of fighting…" the old man preached incessantly, unyielding, repeatedly, so much, that his children and Robert could predict when he would utter those words merely from his subtle body language. When Takuma shifted his brows and shoulders this way and that, he would say [it]… "It is no different…"

"I WILL DO IT!" Robert answered. Watch me! I will TAKE your stars. Your face will be mine! If you challenge me, then, I will take it!

As the twisting moment climbed up his body it seemed to compound exponentially, finally reaching his right shoulder that couldn't bear any more – his right cross erupted into life – targeting Prince's face.

Arms outstretched, hands eagerly clawed wide in hunger.

I will leap so high, even God and the Devil would never dare ignore me. I will come to you even if you push me away, keep you company, [there]. I will TAKE your stars… because, I hate this dark and lonely place too. Your stars will illuminate the lonely darkness that imprisoned me by senseless adults, this darkness that I brought upon myself – even if the [adults] forgot, even if, it was my own, a world of my own choosing.

…

TEARS.

Your stars will illuminate the lonely darkness that imprisoned me by those senseless

adults, this darkness that was a world of my own choosing.

Robert Garcia.

The Prince.

…in 1984.

…

The early day's sun crept through the open windows in that rectangular room. Four concrete walls bordered straw tatami mats underneath with that unpleasant, but now familiar smell of fire retardant chemicals. On one wall was a large tapestry with wide brush strokes – the calligraphy read "SAIKYOU OUGI" – the Ultimate Art!

Today was as good as any day, he smiled. Today was as good as any day to be alive and for fighting. However, he was perplexed when his master, Takuma Sakazaki, with a metallic clink put a pair of steel bracelets on his wrists. Shackles locked each of his wrists, and binding them in between was a heavy chain about twelve inches long. It was much too long to be handcuffs, it seemed like shackles for a prisoner's legs.

Not entirely sure what the deeper meaning this display held, the child tilted his head the side in confusion, then smirked, furrowed his brows so boldly that when he poked his head towards Takuma Sakazaki mockingly those eyebrows seemed to want to jump from Robert's forehead and become a moustache on Takuma's face.

"What's this?" Robert asked grunted, on the borderline of mockery.

Takuma Sakazaki didn't say a word, his reply instead was a short leap and a quick left jab to Robert's face. Robert rolled his right shoulder back and, on his toes, in a boxer's skipping dance parried the blow easily. As was conditioned, the boy put his right fist by his jaw and countered with a left jab of his own at Takuma's face who didn't make any motion to dodge, and instead just met eyes with his pupil confidently.

"Ouss!" Robert exhaled to bolster the explosive jab, but instead of feeling the ripple of crumpling flesh, he heard the sound of steel – the chains between his cuffs pulled tight and held his fist floating mid air as the chain held back a rabid dog.

"Wha.." Robert realized too late, and it was a very painful lesson learned when Takuma's right cross turned his student's head clean around.

…

As the twisting moment climbed up his body, it seemed to compound exponentially, finally reaching his right shoulder that couldn't bear any more – his right cross exploded into a fearless, fiery life – targeting Prince's face.

But…

INSTEAD of joy, and instead of triumph, the look on Robert's eyes became weak. His brows and eyes drooped lazily. No.. No… NO NO, NO!

When Robert looked straight out, past his fist, he saw the prince. He was no longer in mid flight. He had stopped his right kick short half way and planted it right into the ground, at a mind's command he was able to switch from offense and turn to defense. Oh what manner of BEAST are you? He questioned, he pleaded. To be able to drive all your energy in one moment yet stop instantly. How unfair it was Robert sobbed. His fist continued its true and righteous path, but waiting for him, was Prince in a solid and sure cross block of his own, completely covering Robert's prize.

"Why?" Robert swung his hips anyways. Refusing to close his eyes, he dug down deep inside. {Takuma.. you old fart.} Robert cussed. What were you trying to teach me? What were you trying to tell me? Star, God, did you lie to Yuri?

FIGHTING IS A COMMUNICATION.

To further add insult to injury, Robert's opponent's left foot lunged forward, shifting the placement of his footwork, propelling his small framed body to further close the gap between the two. There it is! The Prince was going in for the kill.. he – he was [countering] all this time. The wind decomposed itself to simple, sketchy, black and white speed lines, rushing past Prince's cheeks in a motionless picture. Even when he committed his body to attack, he had so much [control] over his flesh that he could STOP and increase his damage with a counter. By lunging forward at the exact moment, he could limit Robert's range of motion if he so as long as KNEW where he was aiming at. Prince's face was protected by his cross block, left foot twisting, attacking, and his head was now tilted closer to Robert. In essence, with the distance halved, Robert's attack would not only be met with a block, but his energy would be reduced to half as well.

A mind tied ruthlessly to a body, conditioned to react so fast, the world probably felt like minutes even when it passed like seconds, and every action could be carefully calculated with a patient fashion.

Not only was the Prince protected fully, even if Robert was able to somehow connect, the distance was almost halved, and his arm would not extend fully to deliver 100% of his energy as it made impact. What a GENIUS. An absolute genius. The Prince was not content with simply blocking the right cross, he made it so it was IMPOSSIBLE for Robert to land so much as a lucky punch. Even if he was able to break the cross defense, his arm would still be bent at the elbow and rendered flaccid.

It was impossible now.

Mister Star, did you simply lie to US, so you could fall from your prison?

Robert simply let his body take control when his spirit could no longer maintain the raging flames to keep his right cross on its true path. {Takuma... Master.}

Like rain – it touched all, giants and ants both, the FEAR was as indiscriminate as the rain. And where fear once tread, what was left in its footsteps, was despair.

The eternity came to an abrupt halt with Robert feeling his four knuckles impact flesh with the last of his might, a short and abrupt impact exploding into fire then disappearing. Was it over now? Despite fighting so hard, was this his reward? In the end, his last attack would connect with nothing other than the Prince's block that shielded his face? At the very least.. {At the very least,} Robert sighed, {There won't be any regrets.} Robert was about to cry, slumping his gaze down to the floor, maybe gravity would help rob the tears from his eyes.

…

"See this fight until the end, Shining Star." You BETRAYED us, betrayed a young innocent girl who believed so loyally to you, because she didn't know any better.

If I fail, and Yuri DIES in SouthTown, then I will make it my purpose – it will be my soul purpose to find you, take you, and put you back in the prison of the sky you once came!

Laughing. The Star laughed. Echoing in Prince's and Robert's ears the booming voices from a dark heaven mocked the young Robert's threat. A slow and constant mockery to them, then fading into silence. Static white and pink noise.

"Iit'ta hazu da yo, boh-ya." Didn't I tell you once before, BOY, it said. "I heard you – and I promised you."

…

"OI, look up." Hey - Takuma said. His voice reassuring now, his large firm hands on the boy's shoulder. "Boy…"

Robert looked up at in front of him was the prince's bewildered, petrified face from behind his solid, impenetrable cross block. His eyes were still hidden under the shadows under that brimmed hat, but for some reason, to Robert's confusion, he could somehow see the whites of his eyes clearer now. Prince's eyes had exploded wide open. Once slit from a feeling teetering between hatred, indifference and disgust, was now in an unbelieving stupor of whirlpooling emotions he had never felt quite this sharply before.

Breaking away from the prince's eyes, Robert followed his right bicep, then down his arm, his fist had completely missed the young prince's cross block, and Robert's body, that had defaulted to its training when all was lost, instead, swung downwards into the side of his enemy's midsection. The body blow, while not entirely ending the story, not all that fearsome, knocked enough wind out of the prince, but moreso, had rocked the cold, uncaring clockwork that was his foundation. The instinctive high right cross, that sapped power and determination from Robert's shoulders, slowly without his knowing, without a conscious thought, tilted down. Even if the distance to his own face was halved by Prince's design, it crept downwards silently yet purposely.

A PUNCH. By design for hundreds of years to be able to deliver a fearsome power at close distance, even if the elbow was bent. The Prince, who had prepared for a counter of his own, didn't meet the punch flat head on, but swerved his body round clockwise slightly, exposing that one Achilles heel on the left side of his body. Even when Robert's mind didn't understand, every molecule in his body acted on its own, without permission. A low HOOK, the pistons in his body, just like when he called back his fireball, redirected the momentum from his shoulders and transferred it to his hips. He UNLEASHED IT. A hungry monster who didn't rely on his heart and mind, it defied fear, because his muscles, left to their own devices was IMMUNE TO FEAR! Robert's low right hook erupted to a crippling KIDNEY punch that sucked the life out of the Prince, and made his mouth open, erupt with a slight viscous goo of disbelief.

The prince kept his cross block high up to protect his face for another second or two, still not comprehending the cold fact that he had been hit squarely and cleanly in the body as his vision fluttered Earthwards.

Fantastic. Takuma said! FANTASTIC!

{…if you can hit me in the face.} That was what Robert thought over and over. {…hit me in the face.} That was the only thing he could hear. With every attack he threw, with very swing and movement of his body he screamed it loudly – said it clearly eventhough no words escaped his lips in that dark place. In that romance, he was the only one speaking, Robert was shouting. Every moment roaring so loud at how much he wanted to destroy that God in front of him. His face. Destroy your face.

Robert was too busy [talking]. He had forgotten to [listen]. It was so elementary, Takuma's words, yet at the same time, it was so… so very profound.

The ART of FIGHTING, his master always reminded him – was not so different from…

For us to have a proper relationship, let's start again.

"Let's start this story... AGAIN!" Robert pulled his right hand back, hunched down and swiveled his body quickly – left and right hook into Prince's body. Breaking away from his trance, Prince lowered his block and pushed away the follow up jab and cross from Robert. Prince's white shoes pushed Robert back with a square center push kick and jumped in to a quick high kick. However, instead of being pushed back, Robert powered through the pain, leapt through, spanning the distance between them, so their faces could meet closer, borrowing a page from Prince's textbook, halving the energy of his attack and swung his left backfist high, Prince redirected the hit over his head and put his bent arm up to stop Robert's following right hook to his head.

"The ART of FIGHTING, is no different, from the ART of ROMANCE," said Takuma.

"Let's start this story… AGAIN!" Robert pulled his right hand back, hunched down and swiveled his body quickly – left and right hook feverishly into Prince's midsection, the sound of his fists thundering and exploding again, again, again and again. "I will listen to you, this time, my Prince." Let us have a PROPER relationship once again.

The Prince's right fist embedded itself mercilessly into Robert's face – thrusting it to the side, the sweat and blood flew and kept themselves floating in midair.

As a response, Robert tucked his body in, powered through and launched an uppercut hungrily into his enemy's belly. The Prince's eyes gawked open, lips puckered sourly, his fluids cried out too as they flew outwards.

The deep hits, echoed – into the open world, as its promise to you – and ONLY you.

…

Sunrise – for me. It is NOT the violence that sets BOYS apart, but, it is the distance he is prepared to go…