The Colour Purple

by y8irl.SniperBoy

Back in 1996 a boy was put in a small box; trapped alone in that tiny place, he could not but think of a meaning that drives the world. So there would be no excuses when he died. The Ultimate High, The Root of Evil, The Berserker Phenomenon, The Rival Complex, and, The [RIOT] of the blood. Which character are [you]? ...I can't let you go. Up until 20 years do pass.

43. un monde uniquement destiné à deux

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

Based on the Characters of The King of Fighters '95 Copyright 1995(C) SNK

Original Fan Fiction Copyright (C) 1995 [ENGEL] Design Room 1995

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

---

For fucking human beings to have children is only just a goddamn display of that human's arrogance, their IGNORANCE and is just a testament to their vanity. That is your gift to them – their original sin. Everyone thereafter would pay the same price to receive a luxury of living, and bear the same burden.

…and GOD propagated this mistake, as he laughed at the people he ruled over.

Why, did I have to be born this way?

…

{WHO ARE YOU!?} The prince demanded without voice. {…and what do you WANT FROM ME?!}

"So THEREFORE," Robert simply reasoned irrationally. "I simply have to come at you from an IMPOSSIBLE angle of attack." Robert wheezed, trying to stay with them for just a little bit longer. Trying to stay to the very end of their affair. "…and present to you a MASSIVE attack."

"HAAGH!?" Prince's eyebrows twisted and contorted, his lips puckered at the preposterous notion. The look on his face was disjointed, frantic, and drowning in confusion.

The prince's thoughts were abruptly cut short when a large mass came crashing down two feet in front of his face. His entire vision was now completely blocked by the mahogany table that, while harmlessly landing in front of him, had effectively…

Wide eyed in shock as the plain truth became stark and clear to him – the table that he had ignored earlier, had now completely blocked his vision, and this time…

NOW, it was ROBERT'S turn, and now he was who had disappeared! Prince's bewildered seed of disbelief, his constant denial that nurtured it, had now come to full beautiful bloom.

…

Chapter 43: un monde uniquement destiné à deux

-a simple side story of the thin line that separated them-

The outside of that cruel world was unassuming and plain, and while surrounded by small businesses, quaint shops and drably set offices, it remained silent and dark for our waking hours. With no windows to let the world see what was inside until one was to walk through those holy gates, that nightclub was lifeless for as long as there was sunlight. Only when the shops, the small business and the plain offices that surrounded it would close, and cower in fear at sunset, would [this place] suddenly come alive.

As a refuge to all the weary souls who have had enough, when everything else closed their doors and turned you away. Only then would this nightclub instead welcome lost souls – and it would say to them – come here, to a kingdom without prejudice, without judgment, and without pain. It had only one promise, that if you came with sorrow, if your heart was willing, and a body ready, it would set you FREE.

This place, with the brick walls that was its façade painted black with hues of red – and in the front was a simple bronze sign that said "L'Amor". In SouthTown. 1984.

…

"ATAI WO… BAKA NI SURUNNA, TEME!" Prince uncurled the bleeding, tightly wound coils from deep inside his body and lashed out viciously. Don't you insult me! With your petty dago tricks, and your loud mouth filled with fucking GARBAGE! "Are you insulting fighting?!" Are you!?

He twisted his forward facing left ankle, anchored his entire bodyweight, then, Prince instinctively leaned rearward unsprang and took a wide defense leap back from that table, with his hands at the ready. "A!" Prince stammered again, his dirty yellow hair whistling forward as his body fell back, when he realized he had leapt back on an emotional, reflex action without sufficiently considering each and every possible tactical outcome. "A!" Pupils dilated wide open, when he finally realized, through roundabout deduction and reverse tactical engineering, perhaps an instant too late - what he had done, or perhaps, from his sudden emotional outburst, what Robert had 'made' him do.

Time had effectively stopped – because Prince made it so. Now, he had pulled himself back up to that throne, in heaven that we constantly talked about. The world was held in place, frozen in a silent stupor. No… he slowly made himself understand, made himself accept. The prince's eyelids floated down lethargically, peacefully as he felt a sensation so familiar to all of us, because, before each of us, here, truly became [adults], every child, for at least one time in their small lives experienced this memory…

"No," she said at very long last – [you] were not the one insulting FIGHTING, Robert Garcia. "It wasn't you, this time…" he whispered to himself and to anyone else who would care to listen. This kingdom will set you free. This was its promise.

…

Now, it was YOUR turn to be trapped here, finally. A loud boom thundered in the prince's ears as four walls fell down one after the other from the sky and trapped him in a lonely box. He too, the prince, found himself in that small place, with a small piece of HEAVEN [that] existed there too. The small dark world, without warning exploded into a vast empty space. The furniture that was a reminder of everyday, the sounds that deafened her, the memories that tied her down, was no longer to be found, [here].

NOW it's YOUR turn… to be trapped - 'in the [room]'.

Trapped within the prison of time, the scream was so loud it turned the world inside out from black to now, white. This time, it was the prince, of 7 years old – and he was now instead, the one trapped in 'the room'. The shrill sound of a baby crying was the only sound we could hear. Shrieking ever so loudly, continuously.

Unconsciously clenching his fist, the blonde haired boy looked down at his hands and found himself gripping onto a brilliant, sparkling wine glass, one that was painstakingly, with great, purposeful, and painful care, polished clean.

He heaved it up over his head and with his entire body threw his crystal heart into the ground, making it shatter into a million sparkling pieces. "WHY!?" Prince screeched. "Even if I destroy your body! Even if you KNOW you are going to lose?!" he said. Do you even know, he pointed to that door of that room that imprisoned him. Do you KNOW, NO ONE in SouthTown even dares think of fighting me.

"HE WAS WRONG! I PROVED HIM WRONG!" Prince yelled so violently his voice began to crack at its core. EVENTHOUGH [he] said I couldn't do it.

The baby's crying, the wailing, helpless sound filled with fear and dread didn't stop.

"EVENTHOUGH [HE] said I was weak."

"EVENTHOUGH [HE] SAID I was a MISTAKE!"

No one is a match for me! "HE was wrong! I'm RIGHT!" he gnashed his teeth, stabbing his index finger violently into his own chest, and the tears that slowly pooled and raced down his cheeks had now become a thick and viscous crimson, burning his skin. To fight, and to become great, one need NOT even enjoy fighting, that, I believed. THE WORLD AROUND BEGAN TO TWIRL AS IT COLLAPSED ONTO ITSELF WITH AN UNBEARABLE PRESSURE. "Not even MISTER BIG!" Prince proclaimed. "Not even Mister Big dares walk through that door… because he KNOWS…" He knows that if he dared enter my kingdom… that I would destroy him. THE ROOM SPUN ON ITS AXIS – spinning around that boy who yelled outwards. I will CRUSH all his men… I will break his legs, snap his arms, and even if he screams… even if he begs for mercy… I… I – will – just – not – STOP!

The scared baby's crying didn't stop.

I am not [wrong]. My reason for fighting is [right].

THEN, the room suddenly stopped spinning. All the sound was sucked into a dark star at its center into a swirling pinpoint, and then disappeared.

Silence…

"Hey…" another soft boy's voice invited from the corner of Prince's eyes. "Why don't you just shut up for a minute," a small boy, likely only a year younger than Prince, with long dark hair in a ponytail, and a fine gold necklace adorned over his collarbones stood calmly. He smiled and put his open hand up invitingly to his friend. With the other hand, he turned the doorknob and opened the door… "Hey… the door's open, let's get out of here." He smiled warmly.

Only this time, let's do it together.

…

Colour came back to the prince's eyes, and he was back in his body that floated in the still purgatory. He could faintly feel a warm stream erupt from his eyes, and when he tried to clear his stuffy nose, those tears, now replaced with a peaceful, soft sensation ran down his cheeks, washing away the grime, and loosening that hard knot in his chest. Slowly it began to melt away, and the colour began to return to his heart.

The cold, concrete walls were now replaced with something else, something unlike anything he had felt before. Or perhaps, it was there all along, and he simply didn't notice.

"I'm sorry," Prince leisurely, calmly apologized to the dark void. His body processed a hundred commands, a hundred scenarios and a hundred tactical possibilities as he fell backwards in systematic retreat.

I am sorry, but I realize now, that [i] was the one who had been insulting 'fighting'. Perhaps, this fool, Robert, who was able to mimic the windmill recovery despite seeing it only once, and he too was able to 'disappear' and forced the prince's hand to retreat rashly – perhaps he was a fool no longer. His answer, was that his brand of fighting was borne from his love of it, the pure love of fighting that kept him moving, kept his heart beating, eventhough his body was about to come apart.

I'm sorry.

"I'm sorry, I will fight you seriously now." Prince challenged the world. I will fight you with ALL my strength. Letting the tears run free reigned down his face. A HUNDRED PERCENT of my power. I will give you a HUNDRED PERCENT of my body. I will offer you a HUNDRED PERCENT OF MY HEART! He proclaimed.

…and I offer it, only to you, to you the only one who reached out to me, fearlessly, lovingly, to save me from this pitiful, lonely throne. If your fists deliver a sincere communication, then I will return it in kind.

…

The dark space around the prince began to tear, disintegrate, and unravel. From in between the pieces of black tattered cloth that trapped him, a slight reflection of the polished, immaculate nightclub now welcomed him – as time began to move once again.

While still in mid flight, his seasoned mind moved in a feverish pace, racing easily against the ticking seconds. His eyes spring back to life, frantically running back and forth within its sockets. Yes... where am I? Yes, after that table hit the ground in front of me, it completely blocked my vision, while I was too busy focusing on Robert. He had disappeared, and returned my challenge. While not as magnificent a maneuver, he was still able to completely, tactically, vanish, and tricked me to panic and retreat backwards.

So tell me, what is your next tactical thought? The prince broke it down to sections, and most likely denominators. You said that you would have to come from an impossible angle of attack. But really, coming from the left and right would be the most practical choice. His mind crunched numbers, permutations and combinations of likely probable options. Robert was now too weak to be able to move that fast… the only reason he blocked my vision, was so he would bide a few more seconds to deliver his attack. Disjointed and taken out of context, that was the way to disappear. If I can't see what he would do from point A to point C, then if he removed the B section that connected both realities… I won't be able to predict if he'll come from the left or right of that table.

"So it's only a 50/50 possibility." There was only two options after all, and NEITHER are 'impossible' angles, he grit his teeth in frustration. The prince reached the end of his flight path when he felt the balls of his right foot hit the ground softly, landing flawlessly, the ballerina from her graceful flight.

"But…" The prince, made true his promise, and was done with insulting and underestimating Robert, only to be taken by surprise again. Robert had proven to him now, what his pure, unchained heart was capable of, and Prince had more than enough of his fill. Robert didn't deserve it anymore. At long last, the PRINCE OF FIGHTING took a step back and acknowledged Robert's power as an equal; with open arms he welcomed him up those polished, white granite steps and challenged him – can you really topple these pillars and bring me down humbly to the world that waits below? If so, then COME… COME TAKE IT FROM ME! ROBERT GARCIA!

{Even if the most practical angle of attack is to hide then launch from the left or right, it's so very, painfully obvious… the PERFECT angle of attack is…}

"BEHIND ME!" Prince declared! He shifted his weight from his right foot to his left, the lightning footwork transitioned from a switch kick, to a jumping spinning reverse kick aimed at the dark space behind his shoulders.

…

This world will set you free from all regrets, so please don't take your own life tonight.

"It's 1 PM, sir. You are in a nightclub." The woman responded flatly to Robert – in a dry, raspy voice that was fearfully taxed a long night before. The woman continued to shuffle her shoulders in simple rhythmic fashion; she moved her hands, making that constant, annoying squeaking sound. That fucking ANNOYING sound.

Polishing that wine glass – with great care – lovingly and yet so HATEFULLY. Until it shone with a diamond like brilliance that eagerly wanted to illuminate 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 glass finely, endlessly with that cloth eventhough it would never shine perfectly as she imagined it in her mind.

…and that was all the woman could do, to keep her mind from succumbing to the insanity. She polished that wine glass in her hands tenderly everyday. Alone.

…

The perfect angle of attack is behind me just before I land, you idiot! When he released the tension from his twisted midsection, the prince's foot spun backwards, heel leading the way, hooking back, hands tight to balance himself, and exploded with a resounding crack. The surgical counter would decapitate Robert with no regrets.

The prince furrowed his brow and gazed over his shoulder. Unbeknownst to him, he unconsciously smiled a sly, beaming grin. Perhaps not so much laced with venom or malice, but it was just a small token to the boy, as a sign that he had come to accept his enemy's fighting ability. As a testament to him, as an offering, he gave it all he had. If Robert was ready to sacrifice it all for him, then the prince could do nothing else but respond in kind. This was a boy, who came to his kingdom, kicked open his doors with an arrogant gleam, arms wide, and though wanted to set the prince free – but it would not be today. It was a smile none the less. A smile had finally broken his cold, stoic face. As that kick swung in a finality, orchestrated and matched with a sweet piano melody, that warm feeling he never really felt before kept the prince company.

Thank you. I thank you… from the bottom of my heart. Even if for just a moment, you unveiled to me, a different view of the world I had never seen before. Even if it was just for a moment, but when you understand that I unleashed my entire power, when this kick severs your neck where you stand, when I SLAY you, this soft, comforting feeling will all simply disappear. …and leave me all alone, [here], again.

This is something… a violent, preposterous notion, and a deep feeling that only those who FIGHT, can really, truly understand.

If GOD is willing. A God, who blessed me with this great power - a cruel, vengeful God – yet one who was fair but merciless. If he were to allow it, perhaps, one day in another life, he would allow us – If we were able to break our gaze from the sad concrete below us at that precise moment together, as we turned our heads up and to the side, our eyes would connect when we walked down that cold street, never expecting anything from day to day – he would allow us to meet serendipitously and become true friends, if you lived another day.

'DONYA DE?!' that country hick had said coyly, that stupid brat – when he came barging into my kingdom where he didn't belong. I won't forget that picture, ever...

I will keep it close to my heart, to keep me company when all would become all but lost.

If you lived another day. However, I would never dream to insult you, Robert, by sparing your life, and leaving you with a life of regret. No, I will give you my ALL.

"My reason for fighting is [right]." Prince said as his last goodbye the instant his final attack was about to connect.

"Iiya, omee chau de," was the answer that came from a southern tongue.

…

No, you're wrong.

…

A! Prince's flying spinning roundhouse counter erupted with a crack, but it hit nothing but empty darkness. In that darkness, Robert wasn't there. {What?!} What was going on - the prince didn't understand. Surely an attack from the rear, perhaps while he was distracted… yes, even before the table hit the ground, Robert had surely begun to move. While the prince's vision was blocked, Robert SURELY had already hidden behind the Prince and was ready to attack as he leapt up and floated backwards.

{Where?!} Prince turned around and looked to the left, to the right, he even looked down between his legs as a last ditch effort, but Robert was nowhere to be found. Prince put both fists wide in an open defensive stance, while not as compact, it was able to cover more area in case Robert was to attack from the side, using the darkness to his advantage. {Where?!}

"Here!"

Prince's eyes widened and looked ahead towards the front door, his back faced the wooden table that stood motionless and ominous, one step, he heard in the stillness, two, three and then four quick steps – he heard a familiar clatter of wood, then the sound was gone. He was sure Robert was running a quick but purposeful tempo, then his footsteps vanished.

Prince looked at the world in front of him, and in return, the world looked back. His face was in a bewildered panic, his wide armed defensive stance that surveyed a wide area, then the world saw a blonde haired man standing in the middle of the large room, in a large stage where a story unfolded that was spacious and grand, but was made only for two.

The prince stared outwards blankly, waiting, completely turned on the defensive in their game of cat and mouse - trying to feel for any clues. While he was totally oblivious, you and I could see as spectators that from just the top of the prince's hat, a dark silhouette slowly emerged, floating up with arms similarly wide open. Floating up like a ghost, Robert Garcia rose from behind that toppled wooden table that the prince had completely ignored.

Prince had not realized until the last moment that he had over calculated the course of attack. How ironic that in the prince's grand knowledge and uncontested perception, he had unwittingly, by his own actions, he had COUNTERED HIMSELF and his demise would be brought about by a stupid monkey who simply waited behind that table and flown up into the air with the simple assistance from an ordinary wooden chair.

…

The story was finally coming to an end, and so fitting, Robert could hear the soft whimsical tune that seemed to come from a small music box that was enough to be noticed because their world was empty and silent save for that box. A relaxing keynote that seemed tinny, artificial and plain. BUT, ten feet in the air now, Robert slapped both his hands together and unleashed a booming wave that propelled him a few feet higher and now, the music was replaced with a low thundering orchestra and clear grand piano keys. The tempo racing faster and faster, the shockwave lifted Robert up a little bit more, but more awe striking was that he had slowed in his rise. He was now suspended in the air, and floated up like a leaf that drifted aimlessly in space despite his weight.

Hien Ryuujin. Robert became weightless, like a small, beautiful swallow that flew amongst clouds and free from the mockery of gravity.

"An impossible angle…" Prince murmured, trying his best to swerve around, but his feet were bound and he moved slowly now as if he was underwater.

Robert's hands were together in prayer, and when he pulled them apart, he did so slowly, his biceps flexing and bulging for the energy trapped in between his palms pulled each hand towards the other with a tremendous gravity. Robert grit his teeth and pulled them apart; only barely coaxing the hungry attraction a foot side to side took all his concentration and strength. It was as if the gravity that disappeared and bade Robert flight was now transferred into his hands in entirety, and in between his hands was a swirling wave, a vortex that was once a thought had finally been given form.

Robert pulled the chains that bound his hands into fragments and immediately put his left hand just over and in front of his right elbow in an 'L' brace to structurally reinforce his right arm. The mass of energy in front of his right hand that he commanded made him shake wildly and had he not had his left to support, his arm would have surely collapsed, even folded the wrong way from the unbelievable strain that felt like he was supporting his entire body weight with just his one appendage.

"…and a MASSIVE ATTACK," one you can NEVER counter!

…

"I know you well enough, kid." Takuma said flatly to his student pacing back and forth. "Even if I tell you not to, I am sure I can't stop you from attempting the final attack on your own. Even if you're not ready."

The Kyokugen Saikyou Ougi. The masterpiece of my family.

"But if you must, let me warn you…" Takuma said. "If you must, then prepare your body and your mind. Because if not, then it will surely break your body apart!"

Takuma turned and walked away from Robert to the far side of the dojo. When he reached a far enough distance he turned around to face his pupil once again. "If you must, THEN, at least declare it loudly, PROUDLY. That is the least you can do before it tears your pitiful body and DESTROYS it, inside out…"

Without so much as a warning, Takuma Sakazaki stomped his foot wide and forcefully into the ground in a horse stance with his fists both cocked by his side. SCREAM IT.

"HAaaa-OHhhh!" The emperor.

Robert's eyes widened at the inevitable onslaught.

"HAOH! HAOH! SO - KOH – KEN!" Takuma roared. His master's hands didn't move but Robert felt an unbearable invisible pressure overwhelm his body. His diaphragm immediately tensed, teeth clenched, and his thighs wailed in fear. Takuma didn't move, there was no attack, Robert didn't know what had just happened, but just those words alone sent out a suffocating pressure that forced Robert on his ass with nothing but a blank stare on his stunned visage.

…

"HAOH! HAOH-SO-KOH-KENNN!" Robert declared as loud as his putrid body could muster, releasing the 3-foot tall wave of energy directly at the prince.

His gut imploded as it sucked the energy from all around. {This is it.} Robert convinced himself that he could reverse this tragedy. He braced his right arm with his left hand. There was no way Robert could keep up the pace with the Prince's insanity and this was the last he could do. This was it…

"I WILL DESTROY YOU!" The Prince said.

"If I don't win, Yuri will die." Robert answered.

IF OUR LOVE IS INSANITY -

…then let it be so.

…

"Are you running?! Are you AFRAID!?" Robert shouted from high above. The prince had turned to face Robert only to be greeted by his last final, valiant attack. Prince instead dug his heels and turned round, sprinting 180 degrees the other direction. "PRINCE!?" Robert called, confused with a heavy heart at Prince who had now turned to retreat. Forcing his breath repeatedly, exhaling constantly to keep pace with his feverish running, the prince turned round and ran with all the might he could muster.

It won't do you any good. Haoh-so-koh-ken quickly closed the gap between itself and Robert's enemy. It shot down from the sky diagonally, but as it reached a few feet from Prince's head, as if it had a mind of its own, it changed it trajectory and flew horizontally, leaving in its wake a soiled trail on the once polished floor below.

Are you afraid, Prince? Have you finally given up, and do you now understand a different feeling? ARE YOU AFRAID? IS THIS ALL YOU CAN DO, NOW!?

Have you finally given in to the [fear]? Are you now afraid?

The Prince looked over his shoulder as he ran, but he couldn't get very far. Only, in moments the fiery, powerful, vengeful energy would impact, destroy him, and consume him. Just as the killing wave was about to find it's mark, Prince once again dug his heels and his body screeched to a halt.

…

If a father must suffer to beat his own child. To condition that body, lovingly yet mercilessly. If a child must suffer for the future, then the prince knew what he had to do. Those tears bound him to this world, a world that he stayed of his own choosing.

That baseball bat floated up one last time. You can do it.

"One day, when you leave my house, my son." He said with tears and a smile. "I swear to you… you will fear no one! You will be free to do as you wish because you are strong. You will be a PRINCE among men." Turning his body, the man swung the bat sidewards, head high. "No… you..."

All ten toes curled inwards and dug deep into the floor, if he retreated now, the child would die. He wanted to turn around, to run away, if he did that bat would hit his head and split it in two.

"You…"

The boy was small bodied, and seemed frail. Truly he seemed weaker than other children, he was silent, shy and recluse. Unable to be free from that small room where he locked himself in. That short blonde hair on his head was clean and proper, in military cut fashion. A beautiful soft face that was drenched in tears. That baseball bat would surely kill him if he did nothing. It was not regret, not destiny, nor pain - what was most real was the fear, and that was what he had to overcome.

The sounds of voices, tender yet menacingly. They said – sucked into that vortex where no one would return from unscathed. There were no more voices.

"No… You will be a KING among men!"

Silence.

The bat swung straight at its target… The world that surrounded a father and a son, of Knight and King, had turned a plain, pale white.

{I tried my best to keep you from this place, my son, but if you inevitably end up here, in this room, then, you have to open the door yourself…}

The boy's mouth roared open, eyes stretched wide to the limits, and tears trailed behind. The world was still in silence, and he would not run away no longer. He floated up effortlessly, as he did many times before, in mid air he swung his left leg in a small circle, the momentum making his hips twist, the torque running up his waist, compounding the energy exponentially. Floating up free from the world, his entire body's weight was behind that right footed - flying roundhouse kick.

…

"I'm sorry." That isn't good enough… "I told you, that I would show you what 20 YEARS of fighting can do."

Just as the killing Kyokugen wave was about to find its mark, Prince once again dug his heels and his body screeched to a halt. With his other leg cocked, he pulled his knee into his chest, then forcefully kicked into the wooden table he desperately ran to reach and used the reactive, equal energy to instead, propel his body the opposite direction, to send it flying directly into the Haoh-so-koh-ken.

The deadly killing wave was no longer flying downwards from the sky, instead it had now shifted its direction to a more horizontal course of flight. A predictable, easily reached angle of attack. Robert, wide eyed, held his words when he saw his enemy face his last plea, the Kyokugen sure-kill technique, fearlessly head-on.

It was no longer an impossible angle, and now I will show you what true power is.

I am no longer… "I am NOT AFRAID of ANYONE!"

The Prince's foot immediately stopped time, kicking off from that heavy table gave him enough instantaneous, explosive energy to spin two, three times in the air gracefully before unleashing an axe of a flying, spinning roundhouse kick. With minutes replacing seconds, the opposite foot was now up to meet Robert's ultimate attack fearlessly. The Prince's white shoes embedded themselves into Robert's Haoh-so-koh-ken. Leather mashing into fire, curling the wave into an oblique twisted shape – the Haoh so koh ken ripped into his shoes voraciously, emolliating it in a blue fire. The pressure swirled, ripped, clawed, ran up the prince's leg threatening to end it once and for all.

But the prince of fighting would allow none of the sort!

…

A KING. …among men.

"…"

Head on, the top of his right foot met that wooden bat with great determination and with fearless resolve. Splintering the wood slowly, cracking down the length of the shaft, before making it explode into petrified shards and splinters.

…

As the 3-foot wave began to wrap itself around his shoe, the prince's mercilessly scorched shoe immediately cleaved into Robert's ultimate attack in due turn… and… and diffused the fireball into nothing. The kick severed it in two, popping it like a soap bubble and reduced the once proud wave it into a flutter of helpless glitters of fairy dust as Prince descended once again to the ground, unscathed.

His foot cleaved into Robert's ultimate attack and diffused the fireball into nothing – the remnants disappearing listlessly into a blank air.

Robert's vision erupted into the unbelieving prison of panic.

The frail glitters of dust and glass - Kyokugen's completed masterpiece margined the Price's own eyes when he flew in flight. The Price had countered Robert's last plea, his Kyokugen in an instant. …and all that was left, was heartache.

…

---

DOUBLE-STRIKE

---

As the prince's toes made contact once again onto the ground - time… his slave, began to move once again. Robert felt a shock penetrate his body when invisible arms jolted him back to the will of the world's rules, when it clawed into his shoulders. Gravity, the laws again had returned to his body and Robert felt himself accelerating back down to the world below when his final attack disappeared.

The law of mass balance – the 'exchange of services' of Kyokugen Karate was complete and Robert's once weightless body now began to fall from flight as it gradually became heavier.

{No.. NO.. nonono… NO!} Robert pleaded. {Not yet. Not now, not yet!}

Defying the cards that the cruelty decided to deal him, Robert could think only of Yuri, his friend. So afraid, so helpless – she wished, no, she believed that Robert would come save her. For all of them – for all those women who couldn't fight for themselves. He WOULD SAVE Yuri. So his friend, Ryosuke would never feel sadness. HE WOULD SAVE the Prince, so he would never be alone again. He knew that finally, his body was spent and there was nothing else he could do. Even a HERO with a burning heart had his limits. There was only so far the fiery belt on his waist could take him.

[This] feeling is what would separates 'shonen' from drama, comedy or documentary…

"Please! Make our dreams come true!"

So he did only the last thing a weak, fucking loser could do. His left hand released its hold from his right arm. As he fell downwards like a meteorite into the arms, the merciless jaws of his waiting enemy, he kept his eyes focused onto the prince's waiting face. Robert pleaded to his body to twist, his right hand to reach out… just one last time. One… last… time. His hand pushing against the pressure now white lines that zoomed through the cracks between his fingertips when he fell earthwards. Robert. The young boy, all of 19 years old, with three years of fighting, and a heart that burned so brightly that it didn't want to accept defeat… he reached out one last time as he fell into hell. To the prince's face. NEVER to give up, even if a monster's fanged maw was already in the process of crushing his entire body and swallowing him whole. {If I can only reach out… just this once.} The boy drowned in defeat, but even as the quagmire sucked him into the jaws of darkness, he still valiantly reached to the sky, if only in one moment, if he could muster enough courage for one moment…

"No," he said to the star.

Is it true? That no matter HOW hard you tried, if you had no skill, then you would lose? Is it true? That even if you had courage, it would mean nothing?

Robert's shivering fingertips reached out, only fractions of an inch from the prince's cheeks, he stretched them out… Just a little more… please.

When the prince's toes touched the ground, he immediately jumped back up in response, to greet Robert's pitiful body in mid flight. Those, Robert's fingers in one last, defiant, crying, screaming, clawed hand reaching out in the possibility, the 1 in 100 possibility… that his heart could somehow defy the godly scorn of fate. THAT HIS HANDS COULD somehow REACH THE SKY one last time. Factually, even if it's just 1%, the [laws] said it was still more powerful than 0%! 1% is NOT 0%!

The thundering eruption now came from Prince's body. A kick cracked Robert's open, pleading hand – his toes transferred an energy violently up Robert's arm and hurtled it weakly to the side with merciless declaration before it could even hope to reach the prince's face.

…

Robert was still falling down, and eventhough he wanted to feel something, some sort of mercy in his right hand, but instead – he felt nothing of such.

The boy felt a slight sensation when a mass of four cold knuckles of his RIGHT hand impacted the back of his LEFT shoulder blade with a light tap. Robert's right hand was now flailing behind his body like a spineless paper steamer that was a slave to the rushing wind. Robert Garcia could no longer feel his right arm.

"I promised you, that I would MAIM you, and you would never fight again."

Robert could no longer feel his right arm despite him issuing commands from his brain desperately, repeatedly, again and again to no avail. Pleading, crying, screaming. Robert's arm was now twisted in a horrid, impossible flaccid angle behind his body and was now broken in 3 or 4 places, the prince's kick ripped his tendons to shreds and completely disconnected his last dream from his heart.

…

The end of the story was now finally coming to its point. This story only meant for two. Robert's right hand was now gone, paralyzed and flailing weakly behind his falling body. The boy's body was now lifeless, the prince's ultimate surgical counter attack didn't even give him the luxury of feeling a scorching immobilizing pain.

{Let me sleep now.} When Robert's eyes crossed that horizontal line of light. That horizontal line, thin and somewhat blurry, at eye level for both of them, that short story separated two strong feelings between Robert and Prince. If you walked through these doors, and if, you abided by their rules. In L'Amor. Lifting his gaze from the cold floor. The Floor – and God was willing. He allowed them, just this one time, to lift up their gaze as they walked sadly on the earth, each on their own. As we made our way in life, not caring for anyone else, because no one cared for us. We walked, but at that one fateful moment, our eyes would separate from the ground, and our hearts would meet even if the gravity underfoot tried to pull us away. We were once strangers – but if God was willing, our eyes would meet – and we would no longer be strangers no longer, and instead…

Robert could no longer feel his crushed right arm that no longer responded to his commands. He didn't know if he would ever fight again. BUT… as Robert fell to the ground, the prince's eyes looked up and in return Robert refused to look away.

…

"Did you lie to us?" Robert asked.

"No, I didn't… and in exchange for your body, I will make your dreams reality."

The star replied ever so matter of factly.

…

Even with his right hand immobile and helpless, somehow, just this once, the boy was able to twist his body the opposite direction before the end of the story. Even with his right arm paralyzed, he twisted his body the other direction and swung his left hand…

…up.

{We were once strangers – but if God was willing, our eyes would meet this once – and we would be strangers no longer, but instead… we would be lovers, instead.}

…

Robert's body crumpled onto the floor with a loud thud and lay there lifeless forever. His right hand – his last pitiful plea was now splayed and twisted in contorted directions draped on his back. He was dead.

His enemy, at long last, the prince stared down at that unmoving body. He didn't even have to make any sort of movement. He understood, and the world understood that Robert's lifeless body was never to move again.

You made me feel this emotion… my friend. But now, it was gone. Despite you thrusting all you could, you couldn't save your friend, Yuri. You couldn't save me. …and I am just left with sadness. One day, this sadness will one day disappear too.

Prince couldn't help but run his right hand over his head, scratching the skin under his dirty blonde bangs…

He stopped on instinct. He expected his black Mafioso hat over his head. Wait, it was nowhere to be felt, and the prince only ran his fingers into open hair.

A slight tap, it was the sound of the prince's Mafioso hat as it hit the ground onto the ground at the far side of that nightclub, and perhaps nowhere to be found again until the sunlight invited himself here once again.

"In exchange for your body…"

With his hair now deshelved from the prince's head, his hair was exposed to the dank air. Without his knowing, the prince's hand made its way down his right cheek, trying to remember that feeling.

…When four fingers brushed tenderly against her cheeks, wiping away her tears softly, propelling her hat skyward, and leaving a faint mark before they succumbed to the peaceful darkness.

…

un monde uniquement destiné à deux

a side story…

-a simple side story of the thin line that separated them-

Here, in a world meant only for two – fin -