The Colour Purple Chapter 87: Old Man Story, 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 2016]

[IT] is called a 'near death experience'. Survivors who experience events wherein the mind and body truly believe that death is imminent – like when falling from great heights, when coming face to face with a wild beast or just before an automotive collision, victims often report the same phenomenon. As if "my entire life flashed before my eyes". Often these memories, still frames are not seen in sequential order, they are short images that span a lifetime but appear as a collected collage sewn together in a chaotic quilt seen in an instant.

Ad Mortis Experientiam.

Psychologists theorize that in moments of extreme stress, the mind quickly sifts through its collected memory as a whole, even the times our conscious memory has forgotten, conscious and subconscious in order to find a solution to the crisis it currently faces. Hand in hand with the 'fight or flight' instinct, wherein an animal turns off non essential bodily functions in order to escape a predator, perhaps this is a similar carnal ability all living creatures posses. While that could be entirely possible, and discounting divine and supernatural quotients, perhaps…

…the LAST scene we all see, just as we are about to die - has a deeper meaning.

…

"Eiji." The old man Miura almost forgot how to breathe as he was about to double over from the unending rush of ecstasy. Like a girl falling in love – the rushing sensation overcame his body over and over as he felt his extremities grow numb from the invisible attack of unbelievable joy. A. "Eiji Kisaragi. You have set us FREE." The rapture. He smiled so brightly under his mask, more than he had ever done for 60 years.

From a hundred yards away, the ninja Eiji's arm pulled itself up into the dimly lit sky, cleaving the darkness in half, and in his hand was a small burlap sack; on its bottom was a wet, dripping red blood that ran in viscous streaks around Eiji's wrists and down his raised upper arm.

[With your vanity.] You have set me, and all who came and gone before us… free.

A Sequence of Uneventful Mornings.

…You, my dear sword.

…

Eiji has come home tonight. All hail. He has brought Iori Yagami's head as he promised.

Chapter 87: Old Man Story.

Repeating lies you, now, can no longer remember.

…

1978, two years ago. It was a peculiarly warm afternoon that had a slight cool breeze.

Like an existence of misery dotted by small spurts of joy that – even if so short, made those instances glow brighter and lodge themselves firmly in between the course of our bitter memories.

"Eiji. Hey, EIJI!" Miura shouted, his arms crossed on his chest. "Not again Eiji…"

Shuffling back and forth uncomfortably from his seated lean on the tree trunk behind him, the young Eiji Kisaragi grumbled to himself, slowly clearing the mucus that had collected in his throat. The boy did not even feign ignorance nor even attempt to flash a contrived look of surprise. He simply remained silent in his groggy half conscious state, shuffling his back left and right crawling up the tree trunk to find a good spot. His own arms were crossed mimicking his captain that looked down at him disappointed. At their stalemate, the boy cut through the sludge in his lungs, eyes still closed, "Miura... Old man, I was in the middle of a good dream…"

"Boy, are you sleeping again, did I not tell you over and ove…" The wonderful picture faded back into a drab gray shade before turning into the wistless quagmire of forgotten memory.

It was a peculiar picture, but now that I look back at it from this dark and horrid place – I realize now, that those simple memories were indeed precious. Oh how I missed these treasures.

…

"Me-yu… Mi… 'Mueller'? Miura?" He repeated over and over until he got it right. "Ha. A peculiar name," The Captain chuckled. The chess piece clicked with his final move – a single set of palms clapped in the audience before it erupted into a rolling cheer of glee.

…

But. If, and only IF, I could look over my shoulder and up to a KING and defy him, then perhaps all this would worthwhile. For these treasures would transcend all the darkness that I and everyone that came and went before all of us had to endure. What say you now, my King?

…

"I. DO. NOT. CARE." His Kusanagi master roared.

1980. "Master?" Miura stammered,

"Kusanagi commands that Eiji DIES!"

"What. MASTER!" Miura begged, "Kisaragi fulfilled his part of the bargain!"

…

Eiji took one step forward, still holding that bloody sack raised in his hand, but just as his right foot touched the ground, he stopped. His knees, those tendons, bones and muscles that, for hours on end had earlier carried the heavy bodies of two fully grown men, each at least 150 pounds or more, and carried them through decades of miles, Eiji's knees finally failed him, slamming to the ground – yellow blood seeping at the joints and down his shins. Just like a weathered and drained robot, the glowing yellow wisps in his eyes slowly faded to black as HAKAI – the Ultimate Will of Destruction fizzled. The sack, still gripped in his deathly fingers dropped onto the ground when Eiji was forced to his knees. Eiji's head tilted back drawing a frail, long, last gasp, before his upper body hunched forward – the golden glow that enveloped his body dissipated and he had come to a halt when his now godly body wheezed like an old clunky computer from the 1980s powering down. The glow disappeared and Eiji's silhouette was absorbed into the quagmire of darkness.

Eiji had stopped moving – the goddess of fortune - her judgment, firm and fair, tried and true, had turned her beautiful gaze away from the boy this night.

…

"Well," Kaori stopped herself, blushing, "Maybe, you can go with me to see the ocean."

Just the two of us. Take me away, so far away. Just the two of us.

What say you? My love?

…

"NOW!" The master commanded. "HURRY! Now. KILL EIJI NOW BEFORE HE REVIVES!"

Miura turned away from his master, finally fed up with all his nonsense. "No." He said flatly looking shamefully to the ground between his toes. "NO. NO!" Miura drove his gaze into the earth under him. KOTOWARU!

"YOU… YOU CANNOT… YOU CANNOT REFUSE!" The master waved his arms wildly, his composure absolutely broken he screeched with clawed hands, wanting to jump down and dismember his subordinate who was simply old and broken. "Kusanagi DEMANDS IT!" His cracking rabid voice wailed so much the sour saliva drenched his mask.

"I will NOT send my men to die in vain." Captain Miura replied flatly. "Moreover, I will not have them kill each other for your vanity."

YOUR LIVES.

"Your lives…" The master said. "Kusanagi is GOD. YOUR LIVES belong to Kusanagi. You all offered your lives to HIM, and it is HIS to SQUANDER as he WISHES!"

"Then." Miura curled his arms tight in a knot, "Just. What kind of God… What kind of God, would watch? Simply watch…?! …as his children suffered. He be not a God, I say, not one that I would allow to simply rule over me."

"Miiiiiuraaaaa…" The master snarled, curling his fist violently from his high perch.

The spectacled ninja boy was a calm and cool thing, without a care in the world for the years he had lived in those walls, yet this one time he did not even notice himself gouge a deep cut into his lower lip under his mask with his teeth. "Miura…" He snarled. "Miura…"

"I refuse, Master." Miura said.

"Miura…" The master repeated, "You are a COWARD and you are a FOOL old man."

"YOU are the FUCKING fool." Miura was quick to respond, Miura's lower spine trembling as he twisted his mouth to say that rancid word. Words ninjas never uttered.

"EH!?" The master unbeknownst to his goons, he felt a slight shake in his lower back, his calm resolution that had already broken, was now in complete and utter shambles as the nuts and bolts of his composure littered the ground by his feet. "What did you say? Do you want to repeat that? I cannot hear you, you old man!" The Ninja Master cupped his hand behind his ear.

"I said." Miura threw his body around and looked upwards, the video camera, from the sky turning around, round and round spiraling like satellites, around Miura's ankles, his knees, his chest and finally settling to his eyes stabbing spears into the god that looked down on him. "I SAID, YOU are the fool, and the COWARD!" Miura pointed skyward with his index finger. "If you can not hear me… Then you best clean your ears, and COME DOWN HERE! You worthless piece of SHIT!" Stabbing his finger in and out, each motion gouging a bloody wound FIERCELY into the arrogant master. "Come DOWN here NOW!" Miura stabbed his finger one last time into his master's face and pulled it down and pointed into the dirty soil.

RIGHT HERE. And RIGHT NOW.

"Ha," his master chuckled now, stepping back to collect the remnants of his composure to steady himself. "Threats from an old man."

Rumour has it…

The Kusanagi Master continued to speak… "Miura – they say that you are a gifted man." They say that your special power is immortality? But if you ask me… "Miura, they say that you are immortal. Let us see, if those tales are true." Unable to die. "Let us test if those tales are indeed true. Miura…" The Kusanagi master took one step forward from the sharp ledge up on that rooftop and immediately he felt his stomach rush up his throat as the will of gravity pulled him down like a comet. "Let us see if you are indeed immortal." …but if you ask me…

…

"Miura," Captain Jackson the 6th captain of Kusanagi Palace pleaded, taking a step forward behind Captain Miura. "Captain Muira. PLEASE! PLEASE!" he begged.

"My brother Captain, I will ask you this, once, and only once…" Captain Miura said in his torn, gruff, weathered voice to the man behind him. "Captain Jackson, the Captain of the 6th Brigade of Kusanagi. Will you stand with me? Or…" He said. "Or instead, will you defy me? That..." That. "That I ask."

"Ca… captain, Captain Miura." Jackson stammered.

"For I." Miura continued. "For the entire 8th brigade, and I, am about to bring about…"

The END of the world.

"Old man."

"Captain Jackson." Miura said silently. "I ask you only once."

…

The master took one then two easy steps off the concrete ledge before dropping sharply straight down near a handful of stories from the precipice of his ivory tower.

To live as long as you have? The young idiots made you a legend. IMMORTAL LIFE? "Very well. You are dead now." He droned on as the master dropped downwards like a lead weight missile straight down. "How DARE a worthless OLD MAN like you." He, "You disgraceful old coward. How DARE you grow old…" Growing old while the rest of us die at your expense.

60 long years simply watching as everyone else DIED?! You stayed aloof in this luxury?

It is no threat.

Miura looked up with a hard stare following that body as it cometted downwards at rocket speed. HE smiled under his mask, but even when we could not see it on his own face, that expression was replaced with a sad sigh. It was a sigh that bid farewell to the world.

"Captain! CAPTAIN!" Miura snarled! Will you stand with me?

Will you absolve me from my original sin? You – the goddess of fortune?

As the fair lady was about to walk away, from that dark silence was a small silent whisper, yet it was enough to make her pay heed and stop her tracks – enough to look upwards in a slight sense of wistful folly… The Goddess of fortune stopped. For a moment.

Her lips parted, oh like a snowy night, when we could see our breath in the cold frost of snow. With a thought that crossed her mind – had I made a different choice. 20 years ago I made a choice and walked away, but what if – what if, instead of walking away that cold winter snowy night, instead I stopped and turned around.

But, if all men had the luxury of turning back time at our leisure, then…

But if we did… If we stopped and stared. The word 'Regret' would lose meaning.

"Come down here my young master, and you will soon realize… that this old man does not challenge you to test your courage nor your strength…"

But if we did… The word 'Regret' would lose meaning. …and every WORD has purpose.

When an old man calls you out. When an old man is too tired to fight.

He will simply – KILL YOU WITHOUT MERCY!

Every word has purpose, or else, it loses meaning.

…

Everyone remembers a time 50 or so many years ago.

"Boy." The man said. "It is your choice. I will not lie to you. You can choose on your own, without fear of punishment. Do you understand what I am saying?"

The thin, frail boy with rotten teeth, tattered shorts and a dirty tank top said nothing and simply looked back at the captain's eyes who would not let him go. All I ask is that you make a decision now.

"So answer me truthfully. If you understand the words that are coming out of my mouth. I promise you… I promise you…"

The boy…

That if you choose me, then… Then.

The year was 1928. Showa 3 nen.

1928. Following the death of Emperor Taisho, Hirohito is enthroned as emperor of Japan 2 years after he took the imperial throne.

I will never betray you. I swear it. The man put his torn, calloused, yet gentle hands on the child's frail biceps. For if you serve me, I promise you… I PROMISE YOU ON MY GRAVE. If you choose me, boy. For as long as I am alive – you will never know fear, ever, again.

A Sequence of Uneventful Mornings, part 22.

Yokozo… Welcome. "Ninja boy Miura." The old man and the boy did not know why, it seemed so petty and ridiculous, but for a few seconds both the broken old man and the weak boy felt tears run down their cheeks. Yokozo – Otoko no Sekai e… Welcome to the world of men.

…

I do not care about your name.

"My brother Captain, I will ask you this, only once…" Captain Miura said in his torn, gruff, weathered voice to the man behind him. "Captain Jackson. Will you stand with me? Or…" He said. "Or instead, will you defy me? That…" That. "That I ask."

"Captain, Captain Miura." Jackson, petrified by confusion, stammered.

"For I." Miura continued. "For the entire 8th brigade, and I, am about to bring about…"

THE END OF THE WORLD.

…

For over 50 years, I had been loyal to my convictions and the rules my generation abode by without question; And in doing so, I had continued to walk thoughtless – thinking – that the world would grant me peace in return. However. Before I knew it, time had passed me by, and I am an old, betrayed, man now.

I have seen emperors crowned, princes be born, and peasants die in vain. I have seen the joys of simple men and the torment of everyday. But. There is one thing I wish to see before I am forgotten… I wish.

"I wish I could see a beautiful wedding."

…

Just. What kind of God… What kind of God, would watch? Simply watch…?! …as his children suffered. He be not a God, I say, not one that I would allow to simply rule over me.

[Without consequence.]

…

VIOLENT FIGHTING.

IS HERE AGAIN!

…

The Kusanagi master felt the balls of his feet touch the ground. The impact of his straight vertical drop was stopped by the spring of his knees that had been trained time and time again. "You are dead old man." He said matter of factly. The master crossed his left arm over his torso to grab the hilt of his sword over his right hip. When his thumb locked and slowly pulled his weapon out, his right palm was on his left chest, his head tilted up.

Thank you for your service. Now, you die, Captain Miura! The dust from his toes floated up with a crack.

…

Images – pictures from an ocean of memories taken out of sequence…

"Eiji." Miura sighed back then, looking down at his student, once again sleeping mid day against a tree. "Eiji…"

Eiji Kisaragi looked upwards digging the grime from the edges of his eyes. Scoffing…

"They say, Kisaragi," Miura said. "That a warrior's greatest sin, is sloth."

He grinned.

As Eiji always had been, he did not even bother to hear anything. A weathered old man trapped in a young boy's body, the easy wails of everyday seemed so inconsequential to Eiji. Scratching the sand from his ear, he looked up to his Captain aloofly from the dirty earth below. Funny. "Funny." The young boy, Eiji coughed. "I remember differently."

"A?"

…

The Master's eyes laid all to behold. Before the four fingers of his left hand could wrap over the hit of his weapon – in front of him was a weathered, silver haired old main that rushed forward. Instinctively – purposely – without remorse – without regret. Locked in the same place we had forgotten 20 years ago. It was cold.

Miura hurled his body forward without fear.

…

"Miura!"

…

She looked over her shoulder.

A slight glow of light escaped from the lifeless body of Eiji.

…

"Miura? That is a strange name, boy."

…

50 years ago – an old man asked me that question. He made me a promise – as I made the same promise a dozen times over and over even after he passed away and left me all alone to bask in loneliness. Even if you make me revere you and your GOD… YOU are not HIM.

You are not my master.

"DIE! MASTER!" Miura ROARED, the sharp edge of his forward arcing blade was already on his enemy's neck before the younger Ninja Master could even begin to react.