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
pointblankassassin . com
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]
THIS CHAPTER was originally Chapter 35.
January 10, 1984 – the United States of America and the Vatican restored full diplomatic relations.
January 24, 1984 – Apple places on sale the Macintosh personal computer.
April 23, 1984 – The United States of America announces their discovery of the AIDS virus.
In 1984… This was a story lost in time and at this time, despite the world revolving slowly, time was much too slow for these lonely, petty people.
How we wished that we could be 16 years old forever.
…AS SHE… looked up into the clear blue sky.
"Your wife who passed away… Uncle Eiji, Kaori Kusanagi… was she beautiful?" the young girl, who walked faithfully with those two men asked, her hands were tucked into the pockets of her puffy goose down jacket. Her face lay hidden under the brim of her weathered, abused cap.
A piece taken separate from the flow of time, a horrible man, an old tired man, and a young girl, three souls walked down the cold streets of New Hong Kong together.
"Yes... Yes, she was." The 31-year-old Eiji replied in a downcast sigh, never turning back as he continued to walk tirelessly in that dismal street. "She was the most beautiful woman in the world." He never ceased to tire of answering that question to anyone who took the time to ask.
"I wish," she unconsciously uttered out loud, envying Kaori – even at the clutches of death, "I wonder if [he] thinks I'm beautiful too?" This, of 3 people who were once lost, and now were found, would be and was [another story], lost in such a colourful purple world.
…and if I one day died, would [he] walk endlessly, to avenge me, with such unbridled [passion]?
In this cold and lonely country, New Hong Kong, and in this year, of 1984.
Another story it was said, and words were exchanged and committed to memory – between two old men and a girl, who were lost, and were simply, waiting to be found.
To keep the cold chill out. The colour of such a blue, clear blue sky wherein the cold snow would not dare touch. The young 13 year old girl pulled her collar in and rushed towards Eiji. "Ojisan. Uncle… OJISAN!" she smiled even though she told herself she did not deserve it.
…
Oh my girl I want to set you free. Together we will stay together for all eternity – now set me free.
…
1991. One year before 'now'.
"My my, you ARE an Asian wonder." Pierre, Benimaru's dance instructor cooed to his pupil.
"Uh, yes, thank you, Mr. LeGrand." Jouta answered politely.
"Now now, Beni." Pierre cooed in his most seductive voice. "We've known each other for such a long time already, call me Pierre. Or if you want, MADAME."
Jouta's eyes widened, and a sweat drop ran down the side of his temple. Pierre, let out a "Hoo hoo hoo" S&M queen laugh and before Jouta could react, firmly placed it on Jouta's ass. Jouta's backside petrified, he had to use all his control to stop himself from jumping up and frying his dance instructor on the spot.
"Nee, Benimaru. They say that you have a 'real' name. Come on... what is it? I'll be the envy of all my friends even more if you tell me."
"Uh, I dunno what you mean. Benimaru's my real name." Jouta tried to answer as pokerfaced as he could.
"Ohh, you're no fun. Anyway, let's go back to the routine. And swing that butt of yours more. Your fans love that. Okay from the top."
Nikkaido started with his arms to the side and slowly flashes of lightning sprouted from the ground and slithered up his legs like vipers. They ran up his crotch, then around his waist, finally down his shoulders and settling in his hands.
"I have to find out how your techies do that effect." Pierre smiled as he carefully and lovingly examined every inch of Benimaru's skin tight body suit to find any wires and such.
"Professional secret. I hire my own 'technicians'." Jouta said quickly with a grin as not to break his concentration. At the same time, Jouta split his legs in a reverse V and put his right hand on his ass and his left hand up to cover his face. He oozed them slowly to expose his eyes.
Pierre mouthed out something… reminding Jouta to say his line.
"...*... " Jouta tried to remember. "I love. you." Jouta wooed out to his invisible legion of fans. '…and only you.' the silent words formed on his lips and rolled out slowly.
Pierre gave a petite golf clap and gave a flying kiss of approval.
Jouta started moving up and down, arching his back slowly, swiveled his hips and threw his crotch forward...
"YOU WANNA BE A PUSSY LICKIN' IDOL SINGER..? FINE! SEE IF WE CARE!"
Jouta stopped and looked around as if he heard a voice.
"Well?" Pierre asked what was the matter. "Three cocks, turn around, a wave and routine 2 remember?"
"Uh… no, I didn't forget. I was just thinking of something."
"Eh?" Pierre pulled up his right eyebrow. "What..." He nudged Jouta in the ribs. "A girlfriend... Or a FRIEND?!" He sneered.
"Well, not really..." Benimaru grabbed a glass of water and with his other hand ran a small towel on his forehead. "Look I just remembered I have to do something. Can we do this next week?"
"No no no, I can't! Takahashi-san will KIIIILL me." He called out with both palms on his cheeks as if he played the lead role in Juliet and Romeo.
Jouta gulped in and smiled. He put his hand on Pierre's butt.
"Come on, give me a break. I gotta go. Please?" Nikkaido said sweetly.
"Oh." Pierre sighed. "Since you asked so NICELY. See you next week, but don't tell Takahashi okay?"
"Maa! Tsank yu! (thank you)" Jouta said as he turned around to put on his white trenchcoat over his full black bodysuit. The chains and buckles were really getting in the way, but it DID look cool in a kinky way.
"Hi-de!"
"Eh?!" Jouta said as he turned around.
"AHA! Hi-de! That's you're real name isn't it?" Pierre sneered.
"Brremmp!" Jouta mimicked a buzzer. "You still don't get it do you."
The only people who have the right to call me by my real name are my friends. The rest of the world can know me by the mask 'Benimaru'.
Set me free.
...
Chapter 67: Who Do You Love?
I can just feel Rhythm EMOTION...
...
Get out NOW! Came a bellow inside Iori. All the breath was knocked out of his lungs. "Damn, you.. You're resisting me?! How?! How.. can you have so much.. hate..."
Then...
Iori snapped. The purple flames died out in a flash. It was gone. Blood seeped from Iori's nose. Iori's eyes were white, and his face was pale. Like a sack of wet potatoes Iori collapsed on the floor.
...
Seirimi suddenly stopped her singing as a tingle ran up her spine. She looked to the side, then behind her, she thought that she heard someone scream, more than the screeches of hypnotized fans. Seirimi ran her fingers through her dark brown hair and clipped it behind her ears. There was no one special around but the hoard of Benimaru's fans. Putting the thought behind her, she continued shouting and singing the lyrics to Benimaru's song.
Benimaru's concerts were always so intoxicating, it was in a dimension of its own. There was only one focus, HIM singing, and you forgot about everything else for all of 3 hours. Once her ears got used to the volume she succumbed to the sweet limbo.
The song now was really upbeat, no one would be caught standing still or keeping quiet. Seirimi jumped up and down to the beat, and accidentally bumped into someone next to her. Seirimi stood her ground and turned to see if she had caused any damage, just in case.
"Excuse me!" Seirimi shouted while she cupped her hands.
"Teme! (bitch) Watch it!" The person Seirimi bumped into said sharply.
Seirimi was taken by surprise and stood to assess the rude individual who she ran into by accident. It was a ponytailed guy, just about Seirimi's height, with a purple jean jacket, torn up jean shorts and black cutoff pants under them. Seirimi also noticed the dark hat with metal plates that covered the guy's eyes. Embarrassed, Seirimi quickly tipped her head slightly. The guy ignored her, and continued to stand in place just staring at the stage.
What is it with this guy? Seirimi thought to herself. What an asshole. He's just standing there, what the hell is he doing in one of Benimaru's concerts if he's just gonna act like that.
It was the last song, so as always, the lightshow began. Seirimi marveled at the slithering lightning wrapping itself around Benimaru's body as if it were a symbionite, as if the light was alive and part of Benimaru. This was Seirimi's favourite song and she couldn't help but shout out the lyrics and jump around frantically.
...
Benimaru knew the dance steps by heart, thanks to Pierre's constant tutelage; it became second nature, his cocks, his tips, and swaying maneuvers. Benimaru took pride in the fact that no fan magazine or dance club could copy the choreography; it was so smooth and intricate. Only he and his dancers could pull it off. It was his only pride now. No matter how many otaku fanboys... No matter how many of them sat around a VCR, watch his moves in slow motion, even frame by frame, they could never emulate the movements. The dance executed 4, 5 or more steps at once, the human body had to be pushed to the limits, to the extent that each part of your body must have a mind of its own for you to even dream of pulling the dance off.
Everyone had to have something to live for, something only he could do. This was the only thing Benimaru could be proud of. He couldn't write any more songs, all he could do was make his body move to someone else's beat. The beat of the fans, the beat of the idol songwriters, the beat of his manager, Takahashi, dance to the puppeteer's strings, everyone else's desires.
The sweat drenched Benimaru all over so he improvised his moves. His dancers were trained and continued their maneuvers as Benimaru broke out of sync and ripped out his shirt, making it appear as if it were part of the routine. The girls screamed unanimously, screeching uncontrollably. Benimaru's dancers grinned to themselves. Benimaru pulled it off after all. Make new moves and blended back into the routine. That is why they respected him. Because they knew he knew what he was doing. In a sense they wished they had such courage, but they knew deep inside that, as mere back up dancers, and they were expendable. They weren't immortal like Benimaru...
Takahashi flipped through her Vogue magazine cross-legged and occasionally glanced at the video monitor in front of her, watching her prodigy.
How long could Benimaru stay immortal?
IMMORTAL. To exist apart from the rules of time?
...
Seirimi's eyes strayed to the side, and she saw that the guy next to her was still unmoving. This just turned her off, Seirimi just couldn't dance to her favourite song with a guy standing next to her idly like a lump on a log.
"Hey, don't you like this song?" Seirimi shouted at the top of her voice, which anyone else in the crowd could hardly hear.
The jean-jacketed guy smugly turned his head her way, and mumbled something hardly distinguishable. "Mind your own business." Seirimi thought she heard him say; The guy just put his hands in his pockets and slouched as if he were waiting for the bus.
By the time Seirimi decided that she would just ignore him, the song was over, and so was the concert. Benimaru approached the mike as he always did when he ended his concerts.
"I love you." Benimaru cooed, as he looked skyward. As if he were ignoring his fans' hysterical screams.
Deep inside, Seirimi knew she didn't want to do it, but she felt something, so she looked to her side once again. The arrogant guy next to her had surprisingly tilted his head up to look at Benimaru. Benimaru, picked up his red electric guitar, and kissed the mike.
Then Benimaru did something no one could ever foresee. He wrapped his hand over the guitar by the side, put his fingers on its strings and started playing. Playing a song on the guitar. Benimaru's dancers didn't know what to make of it and just stood unmoving behind Benimaru, trusting him. Two minutes passed and the crowd slowly quieted down. It was nothing they ever expected from Benimaru. None of his fans knew he REALLY played that red guitar he always had on stage. It wasn't an idol song. It was a heavy fast paced tune which slowed into a ballad then picked up again. It was nothing sweet and sentimental, the words were harsh and...
"HEY! What the fuck is that?!" Came a loud curse from the front line.
Then murmurs and stunned silence developed from various patches of the crowd.
"OI! What are you doing? Stop playing that stuff! Turn the techno back on, man!" A smirking voice called out almost jokingly.
To Seirimi's surprise, the guy next to her took off his hat, and to her surprise, it was in fact, a girl. Seirimi was about to say something but she couldn't find the words somehow. The girl next to her was just staring at Benimaru, and mouthing something that she couldn't hear.
I… I… NO matter how much I search, I never find the words to come back. The girl Seirimi stared at curled her fists and put it on her chest.
Benimaru slammed his hands on the guitar strings, cutting the music almost abruptly. He then set the guitar on the floor and leapt off the stage, heading right at the group of guys who were flinging the remarks his way.
Benimaru beat them mercilessly.
...
Benimaru's dancers immediately followed in close pursuit. They too jumped off the stage and tried to tear Benimaru away from the mob he was attacking. It took all of his dancers to calm him down. They lead Benimaru away but Benimaru insisted that he wanted to back on stage one last time.
Benimaru's hair was a mess, it looked like an old toothbrush, his once, one-spike hair now had strands falling over this way and that. "Sorry... Thanks you." Benimaru whispered to the mike, grabbed it from the stand and threw it across the stage, leaving it echoing a static shriek for all to hear. Benimaru limply walked off stage, his fans who was stupefied at first were now screaming and saying farewell.
" A!" The girl shouted, but it was drowned in the sea of noise.
Seirimi saw tears scream a name she never heard of before. Dismissed them as tears an overjoyed fan would make, but deep inside she wanted to believe it was more than that.
...
"Benimaru!" The pack of reporters swarmed around him like flies.
"What are your plans for the next season?"
"Do you have any comments about the allegations of you plagiarizing your music..."
"There have been reports about the uncanny similarities of your songs with those of TRF and TWO MIX, back home in Japan..."
"Are your fans backing you up on this?"
Benimaru covered his face with the back of his hand and let his bodyguards do the dirty work of keeping the bloodthirsty reporters away from his person.
"No comment." Benimaru said bluntly.
"Benimaru-san!" The wad of groupies shouted in unison. "Take me home with you! I love you, Benimaru! EEEEEEEE!"
One of Benimaru's dancers, dressed in a blues brothers type outfit pulled his shades down and winked at Benimaru.
"The one with green hair's a cutie, eh?" He said.
"Uh..." Benimaru mumbled.
Seirimi walked past the crowd, she knew she no longer had any chance of getting into the fray to get a glimpse of the idol singer as there were more bodyguards approaching to keep the already massive crowd from getting bigger. Seirimi just sighed and was glad it was the weekend tomorrow because she was pooped.
"DO NOT TOUCH ME. LET GO OF ME, DAMN IT!" Seirimi heard a girl's voice.
Seirimi turned around and saw the jean-jacketed girl she bumped into earlier. Two bouncers were trying to restrain her, and another in front of her was clutching his abdomen, who obviously took a (more than passing) hit. The girl was definitely a feisty character. Must be a die-hard fan Seirimi thought.
"I HAVE TO SEE HIM! I'm his friend." She called out again.
"Yeah right, kid. We're just doing our job, so just calm down."
"GET OFFA MEEE!" She shouted. The girl slipped out of one of the bouncers' grip and elbowed him in the gut, making the other loosen his grip.
What the hell is this moron think she's doing? She'll get arrested or something. Seirimi thought.
...
How can I steal someone else's song if I don't even make my own anymore? Benimaru mused, and rolled his fingers in the air to motion for his dancers to round up some groupies from the far corner to bring back.
...
"KONOYARO! (sons of bitches!)" Was the last muffled cry she could make before 4 other security people came in to try to pin her down. "Please, let me go.. I have to see him.. please!" PLEASE.
Amidst the cursing goons, she heard a faint wail from one of them.
A punch, a kick, and a tackle. She could faintly see some light within the pack of goons. Then she recognized a familiar face. Seirimi unconsciously pushing the guy holding the girl's jean jacket. Seirimi quickly clutched onto her wrist and ran off. The girl couldn't do anything but follow in tow.
Seirimi dragged the girl on, but was forced to stop a few meters away when the girl stood her ground.
"Are you okay?" Seirimi asked.
The girl looked back and could vaguely see Benimaru stepping into a black van with a troupe of girls screaming in single file. "Damn it, let go of me!" that girl screamed.
Seirimi held her grip. "What's wrong with you, you?! Do you wanna make out with him THAT badly? Those guys could've beat you up bad you know?"
Seirimi couldn't stop the slap that raced across her face.
"You bitch." Seirimi said flatly.
The girl wasn't even looking at Seirimi, she was looking at the van. Benimaru had stepped out one more time. Looking into the crowd, searching for something. A groupie from the van came out and wrapped her hands around Benimaru's shoulders.
Seirimi could see the tears streak down her face. The girl covered her mouth, and clenched a fist with the other.
Benimaru eloquently slipped his fingers under the girl's embrace, pulled her arms over his head like a weak sling and prodded her to step back into the van. He then followed.
Seirimi watched the jean-jacketed girl collapse on her bottom, her knees together and her face in her hands. Seirimi looked the other way, and amidst all this just walked away. There was nothing else she could do.
...
Who do you love? Dare mo wakaranai... (I don't understand anyone...)
...
EPILOGUE:
It was well past midnight and Benimaru and his dance troupe were still chilling at the studio with their groupies. As usual, Benimaru sat brooding with his mug of bitter beer. The noises around were deafening, his roadies, techies, and basically the whole cast celebrating another splendid show.
"Excuse me, I have to go to the bathroom." Benimaru said to the table.
"Come back soon 'kay, Benimaru?" The girl sitting next to him cooed.
Noone noticed that he brought his white trenchcoat with him to the bathroom. Everyone was too out of it to notice that he never came back.
...
"Benimaru, your concert starts in about 1 hour, 30 minutes okay? It's 7:30 now!" A techie shouted through Benimaru's door.
"Thanks!" Benimaru shouted back, then turned his attention to his manager, Takahashi once more.
"Well, do you want to come or not?" Takahashi said to Benimaru.
"Where?"
"This club I want you to make an appearance."
"Eh? What if I don't feel like it?"
-cut-
There comes a time in someone's life when they must make a decision. When this time comes there will be no more excuses, no more delays. No matter which path you choose, one thing is for certain, you will either triumph on your decision or wallow in regret. Every body hurts, everybody changes. Changes in you, changes in me...
...
The epilogue to [the steps of Buddah]. 1984 –to- 1991.