The Colour Purple Chapter 64: a Message to You, 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]

ORIGINAL CHAPTER.

A…

"A…" the one lone syllable rolled so slowly off her mouth you could see it dribble over her lips and fall to the ground, her face calmed down now and a weak and limp look reflected in her tired, droopy eyes. "Ah… I see." Wordless and silent was the end of midday and soon the noon sun would roll the shadows across her face – but by Yamashita's wish alone she would slow the passage of time for just an instant as she already felt it touch her – strong, powerful, but gentle arms…

The dark shadows rolled over each one of their eyes – like the cloaks of youth that once blinded them – one by one, uncovered, their eyes could see, what a WONDERFUL world it was to behold.

For an instant, she cherished this moment at the fight's end, and would not complain that time seemed to pass her by. "Did…" she cried, "did you receive my message?"

This story, was always – a life about fighting. Never stop fighting, my dear boys.

…

Now.

{Captain!} 1, and all six of her boys pushed and thought out on their own without voice.

The back of ninja captain Yamashita's wrist met Eiji's broadsword attack backfist half way, and for a moment held it at bay motionless with her entire weight bolstering the defense.

The synapses in their puny brains fired all at once that made time seem to slow, and in an instant, 1 and 6 turned to each other with a blank look in their eyes. Wordless, they faced 3. Even when they did not utter a sound, 3 could hear them say 'How is this possible?' their stunned faces wanted to scream. '3, you said that his attack was IMPOSSIBLE to block?!'

The world around them soon slowed to a painful standstill, until both Eiji's attack and Yamashita's forearm block stopped in mid air for all the ninjas to admire. The grin underneath 3's mask was so large and vicious that you could easily see it print through his cloth mask.

3 turned to one side and saw Billy staring outward, frozen in time as well, unable at his present skill to even follow what was happening - the pages that were flipping like lightning to him. The boy, 3 put his right hand on the side of his head in awe and laughed.

This kind of conversation, the thoughts and ideas that transferred between each of Yamashita's boys could only happen silently, for words would only serve to slow them down. 3 laughed deep in his heart and as he tilted his head back in utter stupor mixed with undeniable, ironic admiration for his master.

"Yes… You can block Eiji's attack… Much like one can reach their hand into a meat grinder, and come out unscathed – or be able to catch a live grenade." 3 cackled.

If, for a very long time, you imagined a make believe world, repeated the motions, repeated it and repeated it again in the deep recesses of your subconscious – an unrequited wish you once decided would change the real world. But, if you practiced this technique non-stop for 20 long years, then anything… ANYTHING is POSSIBLE!

{Do you see this, my Master?} She thought, {Will you honour me, will you praise me if I accomplish your last wish?} The pain her body faded into nothing as her lips voicelessly mouthed the thoughts that rolled in her mind.

Then time began to move again.

The ear-piercing caw of a black crow broke the silence, Billy stumbled as he was released from the claws of frozen stupor, and he almost fell backwards when he shifted his vision to watch Yamashita raise her right forearm over her head. In an efficient, systematic manner – in a motion she practiced in her mind again, again and again, she placed her right fist into her left hand over her head. Both her arms now formed a triangle over her skullcap; shaped like a roof over her, Eiji's broadsword attack glided, trapped on unseen rails over its intended target. With perfect accuracy and clarity, the scene had unfolded exactly as she had imagined in her mind's eye time and time again. When her arm safely parried and trapped Eiji's swing, her stern gaze wanted to completely devour every last bit of the undeniably sweet shock and the delicious utter look of disbelief in Eiji's eyes as he stood, for only a split instant, defenseless in front of her when she could taste his infallible broadsword attack swing widely off-course.

Tell me, is 20 years of imaginary training really effective? Repeating a scene in your mind over and over until what was once fiction would turn to reality?

It can. With enough devotion, it CAN.

"Kurayare!" TAKE, and ACCEPT THIS, EIJI! My ANSWER TO YOU!

Yamashita's right arm trembled so VIOLENTLY from the built up tension, the stress to her upper body made her shoulder joints lock and the disgusting veins on her biceps and even on her temples began to wriggle as if they were alive. Typically, within tight quarters like this, where Yamashita could feel the labored breath of Eiji on her face, it would be impossible to swing ones body and build up enough energy to counter attack. There it was again – that word – impossible. Her left hand held back her right hand that wanted to launch, just like that familiar thing – like the hammer of a revolver. The fibrous coils in her pure 1.8% fat, hard muscle arm twisted tighter and tighter like a wound spring that, given enough potential energy could tear one's appendage clean off at the bicep. Then one instant, just a foot away from each other, this distance was a closeness – that would turn strangers into enemies, or mayhaps, into lovers.

…in an instant.

When she could not hold it back anymore and it seemed like her arm would simply explode, her left hand released her fist and that forged steel hammer thrust itself without mercy and embedded itself deep into Eiji's right eye – and like the instant explosion when that revolver's hammer nose ripped into the back of a bullet, ignited that primer and the gunpowder launched the bullet straight through the old man's skull. Normal people couldn't hear it but the ninjas who watched willingly wanted to cover their ears when that silent explosion thundered painfully, mercilessly, viciously through Eiji's head.

Eiji's mind immediately grew cold. His ears stopped working and he could no longer hear the voices long forgotten. It was perhaps a survival instinct, or maybe some pitiful shred of what was once pride that kept his body from collapsing. His legs valiantly tried to stay strong, but the rest of his body had already started to turn off non-vital tasks. Non-essential functions such as smell, hearing, peripheral vision and even any remnants of pain had now ceased as his body seemed to grow limp and fall by the wayside.

This story, was always – about a life of fighting. Never stop fighting, my friends.

Chapter 64: a message to you,

A S.U.M. of. 10. The 4th year of Heisei – 1992.

{Follow through, focus, do not take your eyes off of Eiji.} Yamashita kept reminding herself, but when the weakness in her opponent's knees began to show, she let out a labored sigh that relieved the tension that built up inside of her. After all this drama, and all this turmoil, it was finally over. After a pause, a knot in her stomach made her come to the realization that after exhaling she had momentarily lost the knowledge of how to breathe. Soon all the anguish that had haunted her for chapters that seemed like a decade flew away and the reassuring feeling reflected in her eyes as the world around her had suddenly become blurry and out of focus.

"Ah?" Yamashita exclaimed, she was not entirely sure what was happening with her body, but it was plain for all to see that now streams of tears began to erupt uncontrollably from her eyes and down her cheeks, peppering the ground between her toes. "Ah," she said again. However, when she lifted her left hand over her face to wipe away the salty emotion that made the once caked blood run down her cheeks like ruined crimson mascara, her face twisted and contorted. Like a mirror cracking into spider webs, the perfect picture of her face once filled with joy and relief turned into a visceral picture of terror.

…

Yamashita stopped her hand part way and gazed outwards, cursing her heart and body that had failed her at such a crucial time. From the murky depths, once again, the giant crocodile rose from the darkness with its steel trap splayed as wide open as it could go. Eiji's eyes were now blank and hollow but with his left hand tilted back twisting in a painful angle he appeared behind Yamashita, who stood unmoving and defenseless with her back facing Eiji.

3 once reminded all, about the propagating perpetual nature of Eiji's broadsword.

He was not even granted the luxury of a lingering bitter taste in his mouth. Eiji could no longer hear, smell, feel nor see anything else but the black, white and gray silhouette of Yamashita's back in front of him. The world around had completely vanished. In a moment it would be over, and her carelessness would be his reward. With one last swing Eiji launched his left foot forward and propelled his left hook into the back of her unmoving, defenseless head.

A blow of this caliber would fall all manner of wild beast instantly.

Here you are again. Again, you hold me. Four black walls fell one by one, its edges met to entrap this boy in a silent box. WHAM! CLANG! CRASH! WHAM!

In that stillness, in that dark room Eiji felt his body meet a hard, solid stop for a moment. Perplexed and confused, he tensed his bicep and commanded his upper torso to swing and complete the swinging perpetual motion. To no avail – there was an invisible wall that prevented his chest from moving forward. No, it was not a wall. He was blind and he was deaf, and even when he could not see, Eiji instinctively tilted his head downwards to where his left elbow was. A familiar feeling waited there; the sensation of dainty fingers pinching the cloth sleeve behind his triceps and then two arms wrapped lovingly around his own by his biceps made his shoulders relax and seemed to make all the anxiety slowly ebb away as it always did. Oh how he missed this feeling.

The colour slowly came back to Eiji's eyes and the grey, blank globes finally dilated black as his pupils worked again. Eiji commanded his body to respond and in a matter of moments, a chaotic miasma of shadow and light swirled like colours in a paint can and became a tangible image, and he could see his left arm again. His trembling fist was packed tight and trembled so uncontrollably it wanted to combust at the next second. Ah yes. As Eiji slowly regained control of his vision he followed his forearm up from the wrist; like a small child he tilted his head slightly and innocently wondered why the two loving arms he had imagined, those arms that were a constant companion in cool afternoon walks, back then, were not wrapped around his bicep - and why, for some reason, he had not, in a calm Sunday afternoon, magically returned to a place he had left behind so long ago. Instead of two arms wrapped lovingly, what was presented to him was a strange disembodied arm bent in an L, with its outer bony blade firmly lodged into the inside of his elbow. Slowing his left hook in the perfect spot to advantage the leverage. "Ah, yes…" Eiji droned out with his sad portrait now a sketch black, white and gray that floated, when he followed that defensive block up the forearm, bicep, shoulder then… to its owner and at the other end of his eyes' journey was that woman's face, brows twisted, hideously veined temples and teeth grit so feverishly her jaw was about to unhinge.

Medusa; the spiritual embodiment of a woman's carnal rage.

"Ah, right… it is you." Eiji said. "Omigoto… Yamashita Taichyou"

{Ah sou, omae ka?} Very well done… Ninja Captain Yamashita.

…and time began to move once again. The wind sucked back the colour into the monochrome vacuum to brush up the dust and threw Yamashita's long hair into disarray. Eiji, as stubborn as he was, continued to spin as was the modus of attack for the broadsword. However it was futile because Yamashita was already there to meet him; she rammed the blade of her right forearm into Eiji's inner elbow to slow his attacking perpetual swinging left hook, and using Eiji's momentum against him, swang her own body clockwise to both defend and attack simultaneously.

"Eiji…" Yamashita screamed. "EIIIJIIII!"

{Ah. I do not want to lose.} Eiji thought weakly.

180 degrees of rotation, 270 degrees, then 540 degrees of rotation, all the mass of 180 pounds of Eiji Kisaragi's body felt 150% of his own energy and then 50% of Yamashita's now crush his God made skull – with Newton's law quadruple the impact of a head on collision, near 800+% dual perpetual accelerating counterattack.

GENSHI BAKUDAN. With the instantaneous, destructive power a left hook of her own once again dropped an ATOMIC BOMB into Eiji's right eye, pummeling it without apologies into his skull; so dramatically that her entire upper torso heaved forward, and lifted her opposite leg backwards, upwards, to mimic a professional majour league baseball pitcher. For twenty years, how sweet it is to see a wish that lay dormant in the shadows, like a young girl who sat silent, fingers tucked shyly under her thighs and kept it all inside – the young girl who held all these sweet emotions, these bitter pangs of longing – in the end it did not matter if the result was love or if it was hatred just as long as she could let all that emotion free. Ah, be free – grow wings, my wish, release yourself with your own power, from your PRISON and fly!

The only thing that was more beautiful to watch than an ULTIMATE fighting technique, was, the counter to the ultimate attack.

The camera of the world started from her pinpoint pupils when revolved swiftly across her chest, her hips, up her spine to the back of her shoulders, only to end on her knuckles that drove themselves into Eiji's eye. Yamashita followed through and her upper body swung wide with enough force that it looked like her upper body would twist and snap at the waist.

A sharp pain momentarily jolted Yamashita's thoughts from its rails – the spasm shot through her armpit and settled at the pit of her stomach before radiating outwards in fractions of a moment. Her arm transformed into black and white just at the point of impact – x-ray film revealing multiple bones in her fist, wrist and forearm fracture simultaneously.

The compounded blow once again thundered in three-peat into a silent explosion that literally picked up and slammed Eiji's body into the ground head first; Eiji's body bounced once then twisted round twice on the ground like a fish out of water, flailing in its last moments to expel the last bit of energy from its coiled spring.

…

…a message to you,

…

a Sequence of Uneventful Mornings part 10

…A stinging sensation made Yamashita double over despite her best efforts to hide it. When she turned away from Eiji's body that lay on the ground she hobbled away and cradled her left arm in her right.

"Oh... OI! Somebody call the Palace and order for the doctor. HURRY!"

Yamashita could not even form a fist, her fingers that were bloody and disfigured did not even respond to the commands her brain repeatedly issued as she walked. Thankfully in a matter of moments, shock took control, and, all feeling left her wounded arm subsided and she was able to walk with a semblance of dignity without shivering from excruciating pain. "My mask. Somebody fetch me a mask," she said as she looked down at her lifeless left hand that spasmed to match the pulsing of her heartbeat, like a wounded baby bird cradled in her one good arm.

There was no response, except silence. She looked up again and met eyes with each one of her boys. "Are you DEAF?" she scolded. "I said... fetch my…" Yamashita stopped mid breath. "A…" the one lone syllable slowly rolled off her mouth you could see it dribble over her lips and fall to the ground, her face calmed down now and a weak and limp look reflected in her tired, droopy eyes. "A… I see."

None of the six ninjas needed to speak, she already felt it touch her – strong, powerful, but gentle arms, like a warm, reassuring embrace from behind – a familiar touch of a forehead touched the back of her head silently. Please… please, fetch my mask, I do not want [him] to see my face like this, and though she totally despised it, Yamashita tucked her paralyzed left arm close to her chest lovingly, and she bit her lower lip and began to cry again.

When the noonday sun rolled over their heads in fashion, the dark shadows rolled over each one of their eyes – like the cloaks of youth that once blinded them – one by one, uncovered, their eyes could now see, what a WONDERFUL world it was to behold.

Did it? Did it [reach] you? Did my message successfully cross the vast distance of the clear blue sky that this cruel G_O_D put in between us, and, and did it, in its journey, deliver my sad message to you.

…a message to you,.

The camera panned out from Yamashita's bittersweet smile and over her shoulder everyone yet again laid terrible witness to a sequence of ridiculously improbable moments that were quite commonplace in the ordinary lives of extraordinary people. Eiji's body, though shoulders slumped forward in a lethargic posture was standing behind their captain, near twenty feet away with a yellow mist seeping from his vacant stare and the sides of his mouth. Vacant and ghastly was a phantom remnant – the Hakai that refused to lose. Three undead voices, once again, groaned in resonance, but there was one groan that she heard clearer than the rest…

"I missed you dearly; Masao, my master." Yamashita greeted. "Welcome back."

…

I wanted to show you how much I had grown… since you left us.