The Colour Purple Chapter 51: Poison, 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]

"UUUEEEEGGHHHHH!" Despite my best efforts, all I could do was trap myself in this darkness. With both hands I pleaded – I valiantly held onto that cold white porcelain in front of me – and I couldn't stop my body from expelling that rancid, awful substance out my mouth and into the bubbling and gurgling pool below. "UUEEGHHH!" Despite my best efforts, my body convulsed and moved on its own when it decided that this EVIL did not belong HERE.

It was rather confusing… because just a few hours ago – I felt so wonderful – without a care in the world. …as if – I was ABOVE it all. I was in a place where those thoughts that I wanted to push SO far away from me were nowhere to be found. But now, those wonderful emotions were replaced tenfold by the pain I wanted to forget. Ten times, a hundred times, a hundred million times more - the world was punishing me. Because, that was what it did to all of us mercilessly.

I couldn't even smell how HORRIBLE that acidic sludge was when it launched out from my throat and into what, that once white toilet that I couldn't look away from. Now. Now, the joy was replaced with PAIN, and now it was replaced by SHAME.

Now matter how many times… It just doesn't get any easier. Maybe this once, I can forget… For a while…

There is no formula for happiness.

"HUURRRGHHHHH!" I was pulled back again to the reality in front of me, when I grasped desperately, unable, and fearful, unwilling to let go. Those chunks came down violently into the pool of water in front of my face, and I wondered, if I was just to GIVE UP right now – maybe I can simply DIE and forget it all.

…and when the joy leaves you – the pain returns a hundred fold.

THIS IS REALITY.

After a little while, I was able to tame the uncontrollable convulsions in my diaphragm that shook my entire being. Slowly – I was able to steady my breathing. No, I didn't give up… I am still alive. I willed the back of my left hand to wipe my lips so soon, my saliva stopped delivering that rancid flavor to my mouth and I was content with a bland clear taste, because, because it told me that I wouldn't die tonight.

There is no formula for happiness.

…and when the ringing in my ears slowly came to a halt, I felt a firm hand curl five fingers around my left shoulder. He shook it firmly, and I couldn't help but look back over my shoulders with tears and sweat drenching my face – and rightfully so - since I had spent the last 30 minutes expelling everything I had ingested earlier.

"Hey…" he said with a calm demeanour, his glowing eyes demanded attention amidst the nothing - even when it was 2 am, in a lonely morning darkness.

Slowly… and surely… as each puzzle piece interlocked with another and formed a clear picture in my mind. Even when I could 'see it', I couldn't help but try to delude myself, and tell myself that none of this was happening. However, even when I wanted to look away, his smiling face kept mine locked in place. His short, deshelved blonde hair and ruthless, razor like sneer was as BEAUTIFUL as I had remembered it.

While it took my mind almost an eternity to catch up with my heart – a wide eyed unbelieving shock was slowly being painted on my face. If I were to tell a rational man, that ten years ago I met a boy, but left him all alone in a prison, then suddenly he appeared out of the dark recesses of my fears and was now standing in my bathroom as I threw up all the alcohol I had drank a day before - this man, he would never believe me. In fact, he might laugh and think me insane. A familiar friend joined me in this hell of a place. Despite the strain, when I turned to face the voice from behind me, the loud, throbbing pain that had bludgeoned me with that horrible poison for hours now grew silent for a moment as HIS lips parted and spoke...

"One day… I'll come to you," the monster said with a draped shadow over his face now, but even that pitch black darkness couldn't completely conceal the white glow of his slit eyes and shining, fanged shark toothed grin when he put his lips mercilessly, seductively by my helpless ear. "Hey Robbie…"

{YOU!} my mind screamed because even when I opened my mouth as wide as it would go, still, no sound came out. A high pitched, deafening noise pierced my brain from ear to ear, rising in volume, shrieking, making the world shake, louder and louder...

…and then it was gone. An empty dead silence.

"This was how I felt when I was all alone… in that ROOM up so high in heaven." He smiled viciously. He made good his promise to me – to all of us.

YOU ARE NOT ALONE. YOU WILL NEVER BE ALONE.

...

Chapter 51: Poison

In this dark place. Like a still water that was so heavy, it was so hard to breathe – the only thing I could do was force myself, remind myself that I had to fill my lungs with air, or else I would die. I couldn't think of [her], I couldn't think of [him] – but for some reason there was one memory that came to mind and began to unfold…

"Is this your Dad?" Robert turned to the side and asked Ryosuke who stood next to him, and next to him, was Ryosuke's baby sister, Yuri. They all stood in attention, in single file, shoulder to shoulder, with their chests out and arms neatly on their sides. Quite frankly this was the strangest 'sleepover' Robert had ever experienced. "Sakazaki Ojisan (uncle)…" Robert proceeded to greet Ryosuke's father to break the silence.

"Ryosuke…" Takuma turned to his son with a twisted look on his face.

"Yes, Master." Ryosuke was quick to reply! "Please call him, 'Master'." Ryosuke immediately instructed his schoolmate, all the while facing forward, never daring to break eye contact with his Master.

"Master?" Robert chuckled as he shrugged his shoulders when he turned from his jeering look at Ryosuke to Takuma Sakazaki. "You call your own Dad, 'Master'?"

Without so much as a reply, Takuma marched over to his son's classmate and hurled his forehead into Robert's, unsuspectingly. Takuma cracked the top of Robert's cranium in the same movement as his welcoming bow. A! Robert stumbled back a few steps, clutching his bruised forehead in both hands. When he was able to focus himself he looked up to Takuma Sakazaki who now seemed like he towered 10 feet above Robert, and looked down at the boy condescendingly.

Takuma's mouth parted. "Boy…" he began, "Friday nights for my family – is not for playtime." He warned.

Do you want to learn how to 'fight'?

If you want to learn how to fight.

Do you?

If you do… then you have to remember. Your ONLY enemy is YOURSELF.

If you are true to this rule of Kyokugen Karate – it will save you.

Only Kyokugen Karate will save you! I promise you, that it will set you free.

...

"A!" Robert commanded his knees to lock and valiantly tried to rise. In his drunken stupor, he fancied himself moving at lightning speed and with instinctive, pinpoint accuracy. However, in reality, he moved in that dark room as if he was trapped in a pool of sand, stumbling about with no clear direction.

"You... You're not real!" Robert shouted out – but his tone was so broken and weak that it was uncertain if he was addressing that blonde haired man who suddenly appeared unannounced, or if he was simply trying to rationalize with himself. With his right hand weakly braced on the side of the toilet, he swung his left fist backwards.

{You're too slow… Do you think you can hit anyone with that?} A familiar evil, a menace that Robert had already wiped from his mind these last 10 years was nowhere near Robert's attack. Instead, his smiling face was already standing snobbishly at the opposite side of Robert's attack. He slumped down lazily and squinted his eyes in an even more menacing glare. {Watch out, Robbie. You're gong to slip and fall if you keep on wailing blindly like that…} Robert heard the voice resonate in his mind. He couldn't even lift his body up before that evil man's hand wrapped itself around the back of Robert's head. In simple calculated fashion, his enemy sent his knuckles to the inside of Robert's right elbow. When his arm crumpled and slipped off the edge, Robert's entire body came hurtling downwards with no support. Helplessly off balance Robert's forehead connected the hard porcelain tank behind the toilet, resulting in an ugly hollow impact that was so painful to even hear. Robert took the hit full on and wasn't even able to soften the blow or recover. His body simply began to tumble backwards, and his lethargic, uncoordinated body couldn't even begin to respond.

Robert had believed that his body would move by itself because he had done it so many times before. Somehow he thought that muscle memory would take over and he would be able to strike back – but instead the young man easily swerved to the side and kicked the back of Robert's knees from behind him, easily folding them in half.

Robert wailed helplessly in the dark. Both arms moved in wild patterns, and he was not drowning in pain and fear. Caught in a rage of emotions and savage sensations he seemed like he was bring pulled down into the dark waters. However even if you and I were to come to his aid, it would have been futile because as soon as we stepped into that room, we would realize that Robert was swinging wildly by himself, at an invisible enemy, and there was just simply no one else around.

"Did you forget your old friend?!"

…and then… the darkness.

…

"Uh-hugmm." The gray haired teacher cleared his throat as he walked at a slow yet commanding pace into his classroom. At his beckon, approximately thirty children between the ages of 8 to 10 years old immediately stopped what they were doing and swerved to the side, hands attentively on their desks.

Without any grand bravado, their teacher was able to tether their attention at a moment's notice that morning. The year, if he could remember it correctly, was 1973. It would be a time recorded by film as a drab, scratchy, unclear and dreary place. But, if you lived in that time and place, you recalled that it was none of the sort. A time where unreigned culture still had 'pop', and bright colours, slim waists and flaring bellbottoms were the commonplace.

While the boy at the far back corner of the classroom had his arms crossed in each other, wrists weaved tight, his gaze couldn't help but wander off to the side. It was already the start of spring, the wind frisked his long black ponytail to the side. His numb mind trying to grab onto anything outside the window, but nothing was of interest. It was the Spring of 1973, in the middle of the school year, yet another year wasted upon the young, too young boy. There was nothing there.

"Uh-HERGHM!" His teacher coughed again out of habit. "Good morning."

The class representative took to a quick stand. "Stand." He commanded proudly. As answer, the entire classroom stood at attention behind their desks. "Bow." He followed.

In unison, thirty, somewhat organized heads bowed low. The boy at the far corner performed the ritual, out of habit, not really understanding, nor giving a damn, though he didn't yet know the word 'damn', quite yet. "GOOD MORNING!" The classroom greeted eagerly. At their representative's request, "Sit." They returned attentively to their seats.

"Good morning everyone." The older gentleman said. "Before we begin," he said…

Retreating back into his seat, the young boy was again lost in his thoughts – there was nothing there. Even if he broke free from these walls, these old concrete walls decades old, even if he was able to escape and be free from his mundane chores of everyday in the arduous trials that was SCHOOL. Even outside, he would simply wander aimlessly, lethargically and resentfully.

To be trapped in this room, going through the same routines. It didn't matter – if there was nothing OUT THERE that made him want to break free. Everyday… trapped in everyday. If it was in fact lonely out there, then I'm simply content to be enslaved in here.

"Before we begin…" his teacher repeated. "I want to introduce your new classmate." He pulled his palm towards him, inviting his guest into the classroom.

So, was it because I was lonely?

In a similar bland form of non-fanfare, a young boy, likely 8 years old too, marched into the room and stared with a wide vision at his would-be classmates. He kept his vision wide in order to assess the situation. Watching the entire room for movement, and clues of what he was about to step into. Cautiously, yet stoically, he scanned the battlefield, alternating his vision between wide and focused. He probably didn't realize it yet, but the blonde haired Japanese boy cautiously and purposely gazed upon his new world of conflict and carefully sized up each and every one of his opponents with utter care and thoroughness.

Starting from the front, his pupils darted back and forth, trying to lock gazed with each boy and girl that was in front of him. While at this moment, they had no direct relation to him, perhaps one day they would have some sort of influence on hi…

"Son…" his teacher cut his thoughts mid flight, just as he made it to the last row, to the empty seat, and before he could meet gaze with that boy in the back corner. That black haired boy, with a strange ponytail that was still acceptable for the time and age. The young, black haired boy paid him no heed and was looking weakly out the window.

"Son… Why don't you introduce yourself?" he suggested.

"Watashi wa, Sakazaki. SAKAZAKI RYOSUKE to moushimasu!" The blonde haired boy boomed, a loud voice that startled the girls at the front row and somewhat caught everyone's attention.

…except for him. Even with his finest honorific, somewhat misplaced speech, the boy who sad uncaring at the back didn't move.

Ryosuke Sakazaki kept his head low in a stiff bow and refused to move.

His teacher held the silence for a few moments, until it became uncomfortable and put his hand on Ryosuke's stiff shoulders to ease them. He patted them firmly, and clawed down to massage them, wanting them to relax. He paused for a moment when his fingers gripped down on the boy's shoulders. They were hard. Solid. Perplexed thoughts passing through his mind, he didn't feel the tense, soft uneasiness on Ryosuke's shoulders. Instead his back and shoulders were cold steel, confident and rock solid.

The teacher stood his ground and continued "Why, why don't you tell the class where you live, what your father does?"

"Yohroshiku ONEGAISHIMASU!" Ryosuke boomed. 'Pleased to meet you!' he followed through with equal firm determination, only when he was allowed to. Without skipping a beat, he put his hands to the side and stood upright proudly.

"My father is the master at Kyokugen Karate Saikyou Ougi Dojo at 308 Fifth Avenue." Ryosuke said. "We proudly teach martial arts to all eager students."

"Ooh," the old man put his hands together in respect. "What fine work, Mr. Sakazaki." He said. "If anyone wants to learn Karate, just ask Mr. Sakazaki. Good to meet you, Ryosuke. I hope you become good friends with your classmates."

The teacher surveyed his domain, sifting left and right front and back his vision finally stopped at the far corner of the classroom, and instructed his pupil to take a seat. "Why don't you sit back there, Ryosuke?"

Whether it be in here or [out there] it didn't really matter.

…

Ryosuke put both palms flat on his desk and sat firm and upright, staring forward almost like he was an Egyptian statue without a care for anyone around him. There was a time and place for everything, he thought and he…

"Hey." Ryosuke's thoughts were interrupted by the boy next to him.

Only Ryosuke's pupils shifted to his side, his vision didn't break when his classmate called out to him. "Hey. My name's Robert Garcia." The black haired ponytailed youngster introduced himself with right palm open.

Robert held his open hand up patiently. Ryo, not wanting to break from his frigid stance held it, but after a while he gave in and twisted his body to the side. Ryosuke looked down at Robert's open palm in front of him now.

"My name is, Robert Garcia. Pleased to meet you, pal."

Ryosuke could feel his veins freeze to ice. The orange and yellow, the fleshy hues of his face instantly turned to black and purple. Looking down at that open palm, he was not sure what to do next. …and so, Ryosuke slowly, cautiously broke grip from his desk and extended his right hand slowly towards the boy next to him. Slowly – again – yet cautiously he held his hand out ready to answer a firm and rough handshake.

Tired of waiting, the young boy, Robert, hunched his upper body forward and slapped his hand sideways to greet Ryo.

When Robert's fingertips hit his open palms roughly, shamelessly with a 'side-five' friendly greeting. His smooth hands making contact onto the rough callouses on his fingertips, the blonde haired boy made the world stop for a moment.

When Robert's fingers hit his own, he didn't quite know what the sensation that ran up and down his spine really meant. To you and me, Robert simply, without a near care just greeted his new classmate who was perhaps, just destined to sit next to him. The tasks of time were not that far forward in Ryosuke's mind quite yet… but this feeling on his back of his neck. "Robert." Slapping his greeting cooly, eagerly, warmly to the side. It was a strange feeling.

It was a strange feeling Ryosuke would easily forget, but remember time and time again – an emotion that could not be easily put into words – even if 15 years do pass.

Like many instances in our own childhood – oh – how we so easily forgot. Robert Garcia's hand touched Ryosuke's that cool spring day. When Ryosuke looked up, he saw those lazy, empty eyes from that boy who offered him something – something precious within those four walls. Even if 15 years do pass, which, the thought seemed like an eternity and two days to young boys and girls...

Neither of these young boys didn't understood [it] back then, but one day it would become clear, how every boy was connected. A bond that was unsaid, and would last an eternity, even if it was no longer in fashion.

…

The pain was so numbing that Robert could hardly open his eyes. Left and right he swung at a void of nothing, at an invisible assailant, but it only served to further make him lose his orientation as he continued to pendulum backwards – with each fraction of a second passed, four fair fingers, soft, careful, and peaceful they were – grasping over Robert's face… and his bewildered guilt stricken, unbelieving eyes looked through the cracks. He could do nothing else but let gravity pull him down. There was only one enemy – that much Master said was true – and this enemy pushed him backwards with no regret, remorse or any feeling of regret. This action…

…wherein there was only one inevitable outcome.

"Did you forget your old friend?!"

Robert's eyes finally peeled themselves open, and instead of a pure dark, instead, sinister, glowing shapes welcomed him in a world of pain and ecstasy.

It was as how Robert had remembered it. Two slits for eyes that looked horrible and ravaging whether they were wide open, screaming a devilish bloodlust, or if they stretched out the sides into slashes that were furrowed in a V. Those eyes that told me 'you are weak' that told me 'you are STILL no match for me', and that 'you are worthless'. Under it was an inhuman smile that grinned from ear to ear as if he had taken a knife and cut the sides of his mouth in order to unleash a sickening gleam of light that would devour everything. It was how I remembered you – and Robert felt his stomach curl into itself, because he couldn't bear to look at the beautiful, such a beautiful horror after all these years. To be reminded of it, a hundred million memories came flooding into Robert's mind now, then it all died out as it was sucked into a pinpoint flash as the TV switched off.

{PRINCE! ! ! !}

"As you LIBERATED me from my prison – now so – I will BREAK you from your dream. The luxury of death – is simply, should be reserved – ONLY for the WICKED."

The Prince wrapped his merciless hand completely around Robert's face and fell forward. The Prince put the entire weight of his own body behind it, and drove the back of Robert's head forcefully into the tile floor.

…and then… the darkness.