The Colour Purple Chapter 45: Princess and Princes, 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]

Up until the day that I am able to wrap my arms around you – and I can be confident, that you, would never let go, even if the earth beneath our feet would crumble.

I will not stop, trying to make you...

This is something, even wild beasts are not capable of. 02.14.2014

…

"I promised... that if [he] fought me – THAT if he gave me just even one CHANCE at greatness… I PROMISED that I would serve him. Proudly." Robert whimpered in a dry gasp. "But without this arm," he stared down at his now beaten and completely broken body, "He's left me like this, my body crippled, and even the last bit of my sad life that I have left to offer, is now meaningless." He cried in that brightly lit room which was now no different to Robert than had he been enveloped in total darkness.

…

The time was 3 o'clock in the morning once again. As he had always done for half a decade, before closing those doors for another night, he would step outside, stoop over to bring that haggard floor mat from outside, and into the protective borders of his kingdom, back into the safety of his peaceful domain. You've done your duty tonight, and I appreciate your love for me. I will tend to you, care for you, in repayment for your service to me, he would think silently to that dirty and abused mat who never once complained eventhough its sole duty was to be trampled underfoot, to take the dirt, soil, the pain and the fatigue from their guests – from total strangers. It was a simple task but a duty that was indispensable.

The night was cruel to all his guests – a storm had rolled in without warning and beat a torrential downpour down mercilessly to anyone it could abuse. The gutters flowed full with stormwater, dragging the dirt and garbage into waiting catch basins. All though out the night, everyone hurried home, fearful of the hard rain pelting down onto them.

When the prince looked up, yet again he saw another young boy waiting outside. Yet despite the cruel blades that cut down into all those who were not quick enough to seek refuge; there was another young boy who stood patiently, unwavering outside his house. His right arm was completely immobilized in a hard plaster cast, his face looked outwards from across the street, at him. His face was stern and solid – an emotion that was hard to describe. He stood obediently from the opposite sidewalk totally drenched through and through, his clothes had completely bonded to his skin, yet he refused to budge from the spot that where he stood.

It had been probably 6 days now. For the past 5 days, the prince mused, he would perform his closing duties and shut the door, leaving Robert outside to his own pitiful musings. When daybreak came, he would brush the curtains aside to look outside his window and found the young boy outside, asleep on the sidewalk bench. When it came time for his doors to once again open when the clock turned to 5 PM, Robert stood again at attention. From across the road, he stood faithfully, so vigilantly, he was prepared to wait no more than a simple eternity.

Just this one night perhaps the prince felt some strange feeling, when the roaring beat of the typhoon filled his ears with a low growl and a shrill, painful whistle. When he opened that door and looked outside, he was sure that Robert would have had enough, and his devotion would be finally tried and tested – but instead – he said out loud without thinking, "Didn't you hear me? GO HOME!" Prince said.

GO HOME!

Up until the prince finally understood – until he could understand what lengths Robert would go through, he would stay there, unwavering. Every day he would stand looking at those gates that perhaps one day he could pass through once again. Come daybreak Robert would sit on that old wooden bench to lay asleep, until the following day. My home, was here now.

"How long are you going to wait?" Prince spat out. "I don't want you, do you understand – how long are you going to wait?"

…there are rules. When one sees a fist come towards them, one has two options. One can retreat, or one can stand their ground, simply.

…and if you are alive and breathing, and reading this, NEVER forget this one rule, please – [if] someone asks you a question, then you are obligated to respond. In like manner, if you ask a question, you have to prepare your heart for a response.

…this was an ultimate truth.

My home, is here, now… One day even if we forgot, and became lost again.

"I will spend my entire life…" The prince wasn't sure but that seemed like what Robert said when his lips parted. I will spend my entire life, trying to make you lo…

A quick flash of white light severed the bonds that connected their eyesight. The lightning broke it apart, and quick to follow was the slower speed of light – a thunderclap muffled the sound that escaped Robert's lips at the very end.

Chapter 45: Princess and Princes

un monde uniquement destiné à deux – and a lingering story-

-NEVER FORGET– what we went through to get [here], and what we had left behind-

"What the hell are you crying for?" The :y8irl said to Robert.

Robert clutched his left fist tight and stared at it intently, because he realized – that eventhough he wanted to so fulfill his one last obligation, he had become nothing. …and what of this mysterious teenaged girl in front of him now, Robert couldn't even focus his attention to her because of the swirling chaos in his head. What was she even saying to him – it didn't even matter to Robert now, he, who was reduced to dirty swine.

"The hell do you think you are?" She said again. "I don't need a weak, useless bouncer like you to work for me."

{Me?} Robert heard the word echo in his mind. At that moment, he was able to break his thoughts from the whirlpooling chaos that was sure to suck him into a pool of despair. {Me?

Slowly – and purposely, Robert lifted his head up and once again set his gaze upon the girl who stood in front of him, and mocked him repeatedly without fail. HE looked at her, his eyebrows were shifting up and down one after the other, HE tilted his head slightly to the side to express his bewildered, frantic confusion. Finally disarming himself, he looked at that girl ever so carefully now. With great care and slow purpose he examined every bit of her body. Though it seemed rather creepy, perhaps perverted at first, Robert kept himself focused. His mind was giving him clues – trying to figure out what had just happened and what she just said to him.

She didn't move a hair length and continued to stare back harshly at Robert from high above. While other women of her age would have surely felt a bit more conscious with their manner of dress when in the presence of a strange boy – to her – she could hardly even give a GOD damn.

Robert looked her over from toe to head, cautiously, carefully now. While most boys his age would have been too busy trying to undress her purposely in their mind, in their own perverted, human nature - They couldn't help it, but Robert, strangely, did the opposite. Bit by bit, section by section as he stared and examined her body from her toes – Robert instead started, to instead dress her in familiar clothes with his mind.

To her, she realized that they were both flesh and blood, and that held some deeper meaning. Aloof and unafraid, she didn't break her gaze from Robert who was still drowning in confusion. We were beyond the petty rules of the world – of modesty – of hypocrisy – and of the standard social conventions enscriptured into bylaws by stupid humans for blind decades.

From her feet, Robert toyed with the idea of putting white shoes on that girl. Rolling his vision up to her shins and thighs, black pinstripe pants. A paper doll she became to Robert. As he continued in his task, his heart began to beat faster and faster, trying to tell himself it wasn't the case – it was impossible and what he was doing was absurd. Robert dressed her with a white shirt, then a black pinstripe suit. At the final stretch Robert's mind ran and imagined that tell tale, dark raven black Mafioso hat…

She fearlessly kept Robert looking at her eyes. Those eyes that were solid and unwavering. LOOK AT ME. AT MY BODY, she said fearlessly. There was no room for social conventions, because this weak flesh was absolutely worthless – because I had already shown to you, a part of me no one has ever seen before.

[…a part of me no one has ever seen before.]

With an invisible hand Robert made his way to the dark unknown corner of that place, once forgotten - and picked up that brimmed Mafioso hat from the ground, once lost never to be found again, he held it close to his chest and imagined himself walking slowly at the girl, in that bright, yet dark room that waited with no prejudice, and lay that hat on top of her head tenderly.

She stood unwavering, face downcast and calm. You've already [seen] a part of me more precious than this flesh and blood, so it doesn't even matter. I have already tested you, and I have already tried you. So while other women you may have met in your perverted, carnal, and chauvinist life, would have cowered in fear, this display doesn't even matter to me. Do you understand – that I don't even give a fuck!?

I was already naked to you once.

When Robert took a cautious step back, his eyes widened at the final realization when he finally gazed at the complete picture, at that young, blonde, short haired teenage girl who was now ever so splendidly clothed in the dark black pinstripe suit that Robert had forever burned, forever permanently carved into his mind.

…and one final time she lifted her head up. The brim of that black hat tilted in that final moment when her eyes peeked past that hat that valiantly made its duty to hide her heart from the rest of the world. She looked at him once again from under the protection of that ever so familiar Mafioso hat. …and their eyes met once again, forever. FOREVER.

While some will say, that when a [man] meets a [woman], this was the will of nature; there will be others who will instead say that THIS holds a deeper meaning. It is really a special moment that can be spent by two unique, breathless, people.

…

"UWAAAAGGGHHHHHHH!" Robert's piercing scream rattled the windows that tried to hold back that wish from the second story of that building, to be heard clearly from the street below. All onlookers held their tracks – for just a second they separated themselves from their own world, and their petty problems – and gazed upwards.

The girl who had just passed by that window from street level below held her tracks at the scream. "Uncle," she asked nervously. "What's that?"

"Sounds like the scream of a boy who just realized he'd just spent the night with another man." The old man chuckled heartily.

"Is that bad?" the girl asked.

"I don't know," he cooed… the old man looked to the side and lifted one eyebrow slyly. "Why don't you ask him?" he twisted his face towards their third companion. "Naa.. Eiji-san yo."

"Shiru ka, kuso jiijii!" How the hell was he supposed to know, Eiji didn't even bother to grant the old fart, Chin, the luxury of eye contact.

"Ah! Uncle, stop teasing Eiji!" she puffed her cheeks and ran towards the 31 year old ninja, hand outstretched trying to calm him. "Eiji, wait!"

…

Robert's left fist clawed itself into the leather cushion behind his body, threatening to tear a whole chunk out. {No way! This isn't right. he thought. Slowly and surely he felt his entire body shifting backwards in a fear of disbelief.

As reliably as when the moon up high would float and tease us, as faithfully as it pranced across the sky – come tomorrow, the sun would rise, and what we once thought was ours – would reset and we would be trapped here again.

Even if it was not possible – even if all signs pointed into that one factful, and logical conclusion, still, Robert wanted to deny it voice. Even as such, he could only hold back only so long. To calm his anxiety, and to find some semblance of rationale in the world, Robert forced his lips to part, "Say it…" he said, lips trembling anxiously, to that strange girl who stood nonchalantly in front of him. "Say those words – 'I've been fighting for 20 long years.'" Say it for me.

The girl in front of Robert finally broke her ice-cold gaze and hurtled her forehead into her waiting palm. She shook her head side to side, then stopped. That girl clawed all five fingers into her face and let out a gruff cuss – "Get out of my house." She said ever so flatly.

Robert eased his beating heart with his left hand, and this time tilted his upper body forward cautiously, peeking out towards her in a slow manner. He said, "come on, say it – please – say – 'I will SHOW you what 20 years of fighting can do!'" he teased.

Without another word, the girl grabbed a fistful of her shirt with her left hand and draped it purposely to the right side to cover her torso – all in the same motion pushed her bare left toes forward and cocked her right foot back in fighting stance. Her left fist flew forward in front of her nose – it screeched to a sudden stop and cracked when it broke the sonic boom, her right fist by her right cheek – in a moments notice, Robert knew she was ready to send that right foot… as the glittering pixie dust fluttered in front of her face now.

That was all the confirmation Robert's heart needed to stay alive. When that girl's left foot stabbed forward towards him – it was a stern, solid, confident – and a familiar stance he, and his heart knew intimately. Her body, with one twist of her waist suddenly disappeared with wisps of light laid in its stead and reappeared a foot forward from where she once stood. That whimsical, savage, yet [perfect] fighting pose was a declaration – of the many moments that passed between them. Robert's heart leapt up, lodging itself helplessly into his throat – and in front of his eyes was a perfect form, only HE could see.

…and in case you didn't know what the world [perfection] meant, it meant this.

"You… you're…" Robert began… "You're a… G…"

{Do not. She screamed in her mind. {Don't you dare say it… she thought.

"You…" Robert's mouth opened in awe.

If you say [it], then I will KILL you – like I [promised]. For all this time, it was all the same – I lived this way and no matter how hard I tried, in the end it was no different. Everyone who [looked] at me – everyone who [touched] me – they didn't [see] it. They didn't see the REAL me. Instead, they said something that was different; they saw something that was their own to see… DON'T SAY IT. Will you say that 'You're a gir..?"

Robert said, "You're GREAT!" Robert said. "You're unbelievable."

Robert wouldn't have had a chance to dodge to the side – if the world continued to turn as she had wanted, Robert's head would have separated itself from his neck and flew to a bloody mess to the window that was to the far side. It was enough to stop time. When Robert's lips touched again her foot stopped just centimeters from Robert's cheek. A devastating kick held its place before it could destroy all in its path.

…

Conflict has this peculiar way of enticing courage and tenacity. It fans the flames that surround our heart until we can't help but engulf all those around us in a passionate emotion. All at once we release it and we can't help but feel immortal.

But you know as much, for as the world continues to turn, round and round, it begins to ebb away at the embers that remained of that flame's once proud glory. One day we would forget, and one day too our friendship would lose its luster.

Even if you are a million billion miles away, if one of us were to reach out, then the other will be obligated to respond. Those are the rules of engagement. Even if those who fight know no other emotion rather than CONFLICT, if those emotions, love and hatred can become one and the same – then it will touch us too.

…

Don't say it… don't say 'You're a girl?'

You are my Prince. Prince, oh, my Prince.

Her kick held its place just as it was about to cleave his head from his shoulders. That girl's attack was perhaps too swift and merciless. Or maybe perhaps, Robert didn't even care. His eyes stayed their gaze at her eyes, those eyes that peeked from below that Mafioso hat he placed lovingly over her head.

She retracted her foot, of no consequence to the stunned boy that sat in that couch, paying nothing of heed other than the last words that escaped his lips.

…

"Ah! Ahhh…." Robert pulled himself back all the time waving his left hand open, frantically in meager defense. "Stop. Stop." He said.

The girl pulled her foot back and steadied her stance. She pulled herself back now and calmed her shoulders. All the while, she didn't break her gaze from his.

Robert let out a fearful breath when he finally thought he was safe. "I'm sorry," he apologized. HE slumped down now, put his left elbow on his thighs. Slowly calculating what he would say next – what was the use, he only uttered what came naturally. He remembered because he had heard her say, that this was a realm beyond normal social conventions, untouched by decades.

He breathed out sincerely, this one time, over and over again, "Did you…" he asked. "Did you fight [all by yourself] for 20 long years?"

From her fighting stance, she pulled her hands, and they were now by her hips calmly. Yes. Halting her train of thought, she finally set all her facilities to answer that boy who sat in front of her. "Yes." She answered. "…for 20 long years." She said now, absentmindedly, the same way she said 24 hours prior to now. There was no longer a place for her to hide.

Was this it?

Were you, boy, were you going to tilt your head down now, and say – say to yourself, of what shame that presented itself to you. Yes, it is true, and I can't deny it – 'I was beat, by a GIRL?' Will those words you utter h(a)unt you – follow you, claw unto you and tear you inside out.

HUNT you. Ravage you?

FINE.

SAY it. JUST say it. I DARE YOU. Berate yourself, insult yourself. Tell yourself that you are worthless because you were defeated in [fighting] by a woman.

…by a :y8IRL.

No. Robert swerved his head up – because, yet once again THIS MOMENT overcame any other matter of consequence that laid light from the past. "No."

"You are perfect." She didn't even realize that Robert held his left hand up and cupped her fist in his own. "You're the greatest thing that ever happened to me."

We can fight this. This feeling that was slowly fleeting. I don't want to lose this. The last time we felt this way – we were trapped in four plain walls, in a cold room – but now, instead of that realm, we were in a place far so different. Now, we were in a vast cosmos with stars, where we waited, we waited alone, looking to the side, waited for someone else to say something that would make everything alright.

Without a doubt, as a fire that burns for two. "You… the (my) Prince…?"

…

"My Prince, I will spend my life trying to make you…"

[Every story starts – WITH a HOOK, and – a lazy Sunday afternoon.]

Every story we knew from our fucking childhood – there was a prince, and a princess who waited patiently in the wings. Only this time, the characters were the other way around.

So we smiled. When – when the young boy, Robert Garcia, held his one hand out and cupped her fist, cupping it tenderly in his own, prying those fingers from its tense, angry curled fist, he cracked it open, and those five fingers that, at one time drove itself into a bloody mess from her palms roared outwards, the princess held the Prince's now open hand – over the cosmos – over the pain.

"Prince."

…and when the harsh silence became totally unbearable to withstand, she said…

"Stop calling me that." She said. "My name is..."

My name is, King.

…

The King of Fighters x& The Colour Purple. [since 1996-2014]

02.14.2014