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
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]
"Ah… how can [LOVE] and [HATE] exist in the same place?"
You are an EVIL man. A DESPICABLE, a REPREHENSIBLE thing.
King hunched forward, launching with both shoulders leading – and when she took a step, her ENTIRE body disappeared into a hurricane that dissipated into nothingness just at the exact moment when the toes of her right foot touched the ground… 'THE SEQUENCE OF…'
"A, is that true?" Clark stared sadly into his open palm – absentmindedly, his mind began to wander off and he instinctively closed his hand into a fist, looking up. "But was not my course… true?" Was not my purpose JUST, my cause PURE?
It doesn't matter… Nothing really matters. Because even if the entire world makes an enemy of me, I don't care. Clark closed is eyes, took in a cool, deep breath in; and when he opened his eyes there was nothing but darkness.
"Ah… how can [LOVE] and [HATE] exist in the same place?"
The colours – so disgusting yet somewhat beautiful… slowly melded together in a putrid shade.
The dark black cloth slowly frayed, like an old decayed curtain that had turned into the consistency of shredded meat from decades of neglect – disintegrating to the touch. The black turned to shifting shadows of gray as Clark was transported to another place, where 61 seconds became 16 years in an instant.
…when we wondered to ourselves, when everything was QUIET, and we were alone… we wondered – why… just why, why were we alive and a benevolent GOD had not taken us.
…to save us from suffering… THAT. I ask.
The Colour Purple. -The world is filled with EVIL creatures.-
…
The FRIEND of decay is weakness. The ENEMY of apathy – is CONFLICT.
Before iPhones, smartphones, an interwebs, the social media that wasn't contained in colourful paper 'slambooks', and… and before the time when people could find the answer to any question at any given moment... We often wondered how young adults amused themselves back then…? Have we forgotten those times? Once upon a time it was August 24th, 1993.
When Clark opened his eyes the dark black cloth slowly frayed, like an old decayed curtain that had turned into the consistency of shredded meat from decades of neglect – disintegrating to the touch, and now he could see through the spaces – returning, as he awoke from a dream he visited during subtle times when all he wanted, was to be alone.
Once analog and now digital; the hands of that timepiece rotated feverishly like a tornado, and the liquid crystal display flashed in a rabid blur, numbers flickering too sudden for the naked eye to predict. And all of a sudden, once again 1977 became, in 61 seconds, 1993 once again for all of us to experience in a horrendous teeter tottering of fate. "Did you miss me?" Clark smiled.
You will NEVER be the same as HER.
Yuri Sakazaki dug her hands into the inner pocket of her brown leather bomber jacket and pulled out a hard brick that was hidden in the cowls of dark shadows. "You." LIFTING it, proclaiming it like gold – a thing, a holy artifact that could very well slay all monsters asunder.
"Do you really, love, King?" The small tape recorder repeated in low resolution.
"No."
"No?" Yuri's voice repeated, captured for eternity on that analog tape.
"I don't love King."
I FEEL… NOTHING, NOW.
Clark's voice – in that tape recorder repeated… That small box, made of cheap steel and plastic mocked him, "If you get in my way, I will kill you, Yuri Sakazaki. I will kill you, and all of your friends who made King this way." WHRRRRR… Then click, and then silence of static.
Even when the storm had settled the wind to thrust it back up into the sky, a dirty and torn newspaper... On its front page were the familiar numbers – 1 9 9 3.
…
You are NOT the same as HER. You will NEVER be as PERFECT as her. That is why.
3:42 A.M.
"You… you fucking…" Yuri screamed…
That is why A SHIT like you, you spent all these YEARS tearing her down.
"CAN YOU SEE [HIM]? OR CAN YOU NOT!?" Clark roared. "ANSWER. ME!"
ANSWER ME! YOU MOTHER-FUCKING BITCH! Clawing at air hungrily with both hands trembling in agony.
…
You cannot defeat a dragon, little girl. {I will not allow you to.}
August 24, 1993. Pop superstar Michael Jackson is the subject of a criminal investigation that a private investigator says stemmed from allegations that were made against the singer after he refused to pay extortion money.
…
Between Clark's thumb and index finger was a small plastic cassette. "Hey!?" Clark called out in his trademark strange inflection that was jumbled between a greeting, a jeer and a question. The boy, now an old man bent at the waist, with a grinning sneer Clark locked gazes with Yuri and his lips parted to talk. "Does this belong to you?"
"You… yyyou fuuuckkkking…" Yuri snarled in a seething, desperate angst…
"Hnnngh Hee Heee Hic…" Clark continued to laugh so violently he began to momentarily hiccup. He looked over his shoulder, breaking away from Yuri's face that was so inconsequential to him. "Hey!" Clark said when he turned back. He rotated his one arm. "I have your tape recorder…" He said, "and I have your original cassette tape." He then raised his other hand shoulder height. Clark took 6 steps to his right side and laid both items on top of the old, sheet metal, air conditioner box then with both empty hands up walked back to the place he once stood. "Tell you what… If you want it back… then, come – and – TAKE them."
It ends … SHOW me, PROVE to me if you are able to see the 'Children'. If not… Then… Then you are of no use to me.
"COMM-MON!"
…
MOU IPPIKI. Not even one trace of you.
"Eh?" Clark uttered, tilting his head in confusion.
KESHITEYAGERU! I will ERASE YOU!
"Ah?" He shifted his head back down.
"CHYOU!"
In an instant the girl materialized directly in front of her enemy. Quarter circle back C (↵+C). "KNUCKLE!" Yuri swung her fist across Clark's left chin with every last bit of her might in one explosive killing attack, propelling his head around until Clark's face could see 180 degrees behind himself clearly; sparkling droplets floating in the air in slow motion.
…
Yuri felt the familiar sensation in her gut when her body slowly transformed to free itself from the shortsighted rules of physics. The rule of equivalent exchange, the rules of the conservation of energy. Her stomach immediately became cold and a sudden sharp hunger left a large hole in her midsection – this feeling of 'immediate mass balance', she had grown accustomed to and no longer feared – when her hands would, all of a sudden, begin to grow heavy… This nauseating, yet, at the same time, orgasmic feeling, was the fundamental concept of Kyokugen Karate.
This time however, her mind was unable to stop her from instinctively FILLING that emptiness in her stomach and the hollow cavity where her heart once laid with something else. Eventhough it was against the rules, even as her master warned against, in DEFIANCE, Yuri filled it – with ANYTHING and EVERYTHING! Even with her HATRED. And the PAIN of others.
…
A storm was brewing, the wind picked up its pace and began to whistle as it dexterously swirled in and out of the steel pipes and boxes, the crevices and narrow spaces of the mechanical contraptions that littered their stage above La Bijoux. A growling echo they heard – it was the Earth's anger, and it mimicked the rancid, bitter rancor within Yuri Sakazaki.
"Hontou no IKARI wo… Hontou no ZOUU wo…" MISETE AGARE! CLARK STEEL!
TRUE rage. TRUE HATRED! This, is what I will SHOW you! YOU ARE EVIL!
"Omae, aku nara…. Naraba batsu shinakute wa IKENE ZO!"
…and therefore, you must be PUNISHED.
…
A high level black belt could probably drive their fist 15 miles per hour, with professional boxers reported 25 miles an hour. If 80% of Yuri's mass could somehow be instantly transferred from her left foot without loss of energy immediately to her fist. 88 pounds – then – she would have to only propel it just under 7 miles an hour.
Was this ridiculous notion, the fundamental concept of the extreme fighting art?
Locking her right leg and balancing solely on it then INSTANTLY tilting to her left foot, using it as a fulcrum, Yuri launched a wide left hook at her enemy. "KAKUGO!" PREPARE YOURSELF… Yuri screamed as hard and as loud as she could, that her lower jaw was about to come unhinged and drop to the ground. Her face to be reduced to black and white sketchlines.
One by one, each of Yuri's four knuckles made contact with Clark's right temple, rolling with the punch each bony nail rotated and imparted a devastating force into the man's head. Then Yuri's right fist swerved, reversing Clark's direction as his body swung to his right side. "RAAGHHH!" Yuri's left fist embedded itself into the cavity under Clark's right breast just as he inhaled. Clark spat out in a guttural vomit.
Without a moment's pause, Yuri grabbed Clark's head as he bent forward and pulled it down. Wham. Wham. WHAM! Yuri pulled her enemy down with her entire body weight – and three times she punched into Clark's lower backside. Three pin-point kidney punches – each hit devastating – each hit merciless. Wham. Wham. WHAM! "URAAGH UGHAHGH! RRRAAAAAAAAAAGHHH!"
SHI-NE! Die. Die. DIEEEE! "You don't deserve to be ALIVE!"
"Huuggghhhh….. ggghhhhhkgghhh…" Clark inhaled a dry breath even when his lungs refused to take in air.
YOU HURT MY FRIENDS!
Cognitive consistency. The [focus] to drive mental determination no matter what the opposition. Then. Perpetual zeal. The driven will, caught in [inertia], wherein not one ounce of impeding rational thought can steer it away from its original path. The sweat on Yuri's forehead leapt into the air – into small globes that floated peacefully as time froze slower and slower still.
YOU DESTROYED MY PEACE.
Incognitive, sociopathic zeal.
YOU TOOK AWAY MY HAPPINESS.
"Kore ga saigo da KORA!" This is the END… Yuri Sakazaki pulled back her right hand back, then, at the end of its apex she twisted her shoulder in a painful manner and as her muscles defied her, even when her master warned against it, she PULLED back 6 inches further…
KAKUGO! Prepare yourself! For death!
…
"I don't hire children, here." King said calmly to the baby girl. "Go home."
"WAIT!" Yuri called out before King could turn away. Yuri put both hands on the door keeping it from closing shut. "My dadd..y…" Yuri began but caught herself mid sentence. "No, MY MASTER told me. That ALL debts have to be repaid!"
…
FILLING that EMPTINESS with ANYTHING and EVERYTHING.
Just for the pursuit happiness.
HAPPINESS is a true luxury and an opportunity, reserved for each and every one of us, who are willing to FIGHT for it.
…
"Tell me, is it that much fun, Ryosuke!?" Robert repeated, not wanting to let go – his words grabbed Ryosuke's shoulders and turned him round, making him lock gazes with Robert once again.
"Ryosuke!" Robert sai..
"Shut up! Why don't you find out for YOURSELF!?" Ryosuke shouted.
"…"
Why don't you come with ME, tonight. So you can find out for yourself?
At the far end of the classroom, the little girl, Yuri was not sure of what to do, petrified in fright, she gripped the sliding door with both hands and peeked into the wooden slivers abided by the vortex that seemed to suck her into the jagged snares of eventual fate.
…
"Sakazaki Ojisan (uncle)…" Robert proceeded to greet Ryosuke's father to break the silence, knowing enough Japanese just to get by.
"Ryosuke…" Takuma turned to his son with a sour, 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'?" Robert's face twisted, contorted into a condescending shape.
Yuri, 4 years old, couldn't help but break from her pose and put her right hand to cover her mouth to hide her glee when her master, Takuma Sakazaki would undoubtedly deliver an unapologetic blow into the side of Robert's left temple before he could take his next breath.
…
"Hey."
"What." Yuri, 4 years old replied flatly.
"My name is Robert Garcia. Pleased to meet you."
"Hi." Yuri said, her voice seemingly uninterested.
…
"Haghhh… HagGGGKKG… Haggh.." In 1983, Yuri, 8 years old put both her hands on her knees to prop herself up – facing a wooden, 3 sectional, rotating, cactus like, Wing-Chun sparring dummy that seemed to just not give up.
"Don'yann'shitanya?" How'd'ya'do? Robert greeted as he walked to the dojo - in the awkward Southern tongue he had learned through osmosis in this putrid town.
"Rahhh…Roobert…" Yuri snarled under her breath huffing and puffing with every syllable, annoyed.
"Why don't you give 'woody' here a break," Robert laughed, putting his hand on Yuri's shoulder, pulling her back from the training dummy that mocked her.
"EH?!" Yuri…
IT WAS FRIDAY, after all. Looking upwards, the snarling, deafening static that pierced her ears stopped… when she looked up and met Robert's smiling face. "Why don't you fight ME instead, Yuri?"
Was this – the first time?
"STUPID. I can't beat a boy!" Yuri was quick to say.
"Really?" Robert Garcia grinned. "How can you be so sure? I am sure you can," He reassured her. "You've fought more than me, Yuri." Robert flashed an aloof sneering grin. "…and for sure, fighting me is more FUN than fighting a wooden doll!"
…and while certainly, as Robert had predicted, it did not end well for him that evening. I sometimes, and often wonder to myself… Was this – the first time?
That I felt this feeling? In my chest.
This soft, calm and warm feeling, overcome me. Just when you and I were alone. Even though back in those times, my childhood memories were filled with notions of hating you – ridiculing someone like you. Yet, I could not help… but think…
…
"What's your problem?" Robert caught Yuri off guard. In her rage, she had torn her vandalized notebook into eight pieces and scattered the remnants of the paper pages across and around her feet.
"Robert…" Yuri, 10 years old now, stuttered, "They're wrong. Why do they have to…"
"I'm going to talk with Nakano." Robert said on his own as he turned around. "I think he's going to thank me that you won't beat the shit out of him for calling you a tomboy."
"Robert!" The door shut.
Or… maybe it was THAT time?
…
NO… I think… despite all that…
"What's wrong now?" Robert asked.
Yuri pouted in the corner and said nothing in reply.
"Did Master tell you again…?"
"It's because I'm a GIRL, isn't it?" Yuri heaved, driving both fists into her knees.
"I don't think so…" Robert laughed in reply. "It's because you're just short." He sneered.
"Robeeeerrrrt!"
"Nanya…" The boy jeered, but this time extending an open hand. "Let's practice together. Who cares about the old man."
Yuri had just turned 13 years old.
When my childhood memories were filled with notions of hating you – ridiculing a fool like you. Purposeless and lost, you had no reason for fighting. Yet, I could not help… but think… Just when did the line between [animosity] and [endearment] become so blurry all of a sudden? Between you… and me…
The flow of FATE diverged. Or, did they – love and hatred - meet, without my permission, without even my knowing, in this [singularity]? Was it THIS time?
…was it then, did the door of that ROOM that enslaved me, open – inviting me to join you?
…
No. She smiled warmly looking back at it all, rearranging the pictures, shattered into multiple scattered puzzle pieces; then, one by one with constant care, and with great, soft, tenderness – locked them with each other until she could see the photograph clearly once again.
It was… THAT time… after all. When innocence ruled over it all.
…and at the other side of that DOOR, was it heaven that bade me to join you?
…
PATHETIC! You're nothing like… "You're NOTHING! NOTHING like HER!" Clark was so enraged, he could not keep his thoughts silent and snarled out loud.
…
"It's such a nice night." Yuri (4) said as she smiled that evening. The year was 1981. Chilly somewhat, but not so much to be outside in the dark evening. She bobbed her legs playfully on that grassy hill with her best of friends, her big brother, Ryo (16), and her friend, Robert (16).
But. At a different side of that continent these children sat and pondered the bright glee that the world could offer them, somewhere else, in a damp cold place – an evil boy sat with his knees tucked close to his chest, looking blankly at the empty open plain in front of him.
"Are you having fun too, Oniisan (big brother)?" Yuri asked playfully.
"Ah!" Robert broke the heavy, dank mood. "A shooting star!"
The evil boy put his empty aluminum plate on the ground, and looked up to the evening sky. HOW LONG must we bear THE SADNESS in the world, this chaos.
"Where?! What?!" Yuri jumped up ripping out of her skin almost, and put her arms over Robert to look skyward. "A!" Robert yelped, easing Yuri's weight from his painful body. "Up there." Robert pointed.
"A! I see it!" Yuri said in glee.
"Ya'll better hurry up, Yuri." Robert rolled in his southern tongue he couldn't hide when he was excited. "Best make a wish. When ya see a fallin' star…" Robert cleared his throat. "You can make a wish – and if you do… it will come true."
"Really?!" Yuri's eyes watered and glistened eagerly. She put both her hands together, weaved her fingers tight in great prayer. "Really really?!"
HE pushed the plate aside, and a strange thought streaked across his mind – with the pangs of nostalgia tugging at him, thinking of only that one thing, just as the pulsating glimmer of dying light flickered in the sky in its last moments.
"Yeah… but you'd better hurry." Robert warned. "A star only has one chance." It has only one chance. A hundred years it glowed brightly – in the sky. It listened to the world. For a hundred years it only lived for this one purpose.
Glowing radiantly.
Bullets pour like rain.
For they say, that a star that has fallen from the sky, has done so only after fulfilling its lifelong purpose. That is – to grant a wish to a mortal man.
Yuri looked up, turned to Robert innocently, pleading with tears in her wide, shining, bubbling eyes.
With such an innocent, pure face, Robert couldn't resist.
"Okay. Okay." Robert put his hand on his forehead and shifted his bangs from his face. "The wish is yours, Yuri-chan. Hurry up…"
"Yaay!" Yuri all of 4 years old cheered, her hands clasped in prayer in front of her chest. All ten fingers interweaved in each other tightly -
Face reality. I want to believe that justice can be found.
"Mister star…" Yuri begged. "Mister star in the sky." Hoshi-san, yo.
The meaning. Hoshi (a star) sounds the same as Hoshii (a wish), here.
"I WISH…" Yuri pleaded, she BEGGED. "I WISH so very VERY much!"
A GREAT man has a luxury, for even as he rose to the challenge in times of peril, in exchange he will never be forgotten. While such a sacrifice seems noble and tedious, the true measure of a virtuous man, is not to be GREAT, but to be GOOD. A good man, despite his suffering, is easily forgotten by the annals of time, his legacy seemingly meaningless, but his actions are required, are essential, in order to perpetuate a justly peaceful world.
Clark, with his hands at his sides, stood at attention, looking up to the star in the sky, as it fell, only to be devoured by the sad results of obscurity. But before you become dust, and suffer to be forgotten as the plight of a good man – oh star, oh star in the sky, allow me this privilege, allow me to give you PURPOSE. When the star fell and shot across the heavens, he opened his mouth.
The year was 1981.
…
Let us take back, what was once OURS! …and ours alone, my… my friend.
and if I win against him then I will be honest, and tell you my true feelings…
A so, so very warm sensation wrapped itself around Yuri in a tight embrace.
My feelings. For you… you are the most wonderful thing in the world.
Clark looked at the ground, one by one, bit-by-bit the orchestra of tears soiled the concrete with rain, then finally he tilted his head up as his jaw was about to seize into atrophy.
DARK SQUARES.
This HATRED. That once enveloped me in a sense of madness, in the grasp of weakness – was it not YOU who set me free? As YOU were there for me these past 12 long, long years – but now, I am now here for YOU. I can finally repay you. But. Let me for once, let me be selfish. Two distinct voices intersected in the same singular point at the same time.
{If I can defeat an evil man like Clark. Does It not mean that I am better than King?}
"My name is Robert Garcia." He greeted.
{If MY truth is more ULTIMATE than HIS.}
"What is your wish? Little girl?" A ragged doll snarled in the darkness, the ground beneath all of them where a checkered black and white – like a chessboard - with DARK squares and LIGHT squares.
After all this is done, I will confess my true feelings to him. Yuri felt the soft sigh of her breath escape her lips just at the exact moment she glimpsed at the end of this long and arduous chapter.
"Yuri." She mumbled. "I'm Yuri."
Then your wish… is my command, little girl. The star replied.
…
The four knuckles of Yuri's fist crept second by second closer – from seconds to minutes that seemed like hours, to END HIM. CLARK STEEL!
…
You made a wish, and your wish is pure, just and indeed true. But. Do not blame me, if this story does not turn out the way you expected it to.
Chapter 122: the Singularity
Evil men. And. Good men. Are separated distinctly by a small and thin line, teetering by fractions of a second.
My constantly seething rancor for you, my hatred for you, Clark Steel. The rushing black and white speedlines pierced through her body with the ferocity of hot magma that threatened to swallow her whole. It encompasses me every waking moment – it enslaves my mind and my body. It keeps me awake at night and even visits me in the dark moments even when I think I am alone. It engulfs me. It encompasses me. It CONSUMES me. When her forceful killing blow wanted to split her enemy's head in half, and with the gift of her Kyokugen Karate, it could become TRUE. I think of you, only you, and nothing else but you. But, sometimes… when that weak, glimmering concept crosses my mind – I wonder, how different is it from [it], from [that]? That feeling, that is not rancor, that is not rage, and that is not hatred?
The distinct moment these [two] conflicting feelings crash together. It is called the [SINGULARITY].
The final impact; The four knuckles of Yuri's fist crept second by second closer – from seconds to minutes that seemed like hours, to END HIM. CLARK STEEL!
{Please my STAR. Make my wish… MAKE my wish come TRUE!}
In slow motion, frame by frame passing through her mind, to be mercilessly conquered by Yuri's consciousness, it became clearer and clearer – that she COULD win, that she WOULD win, and in this final BLOW, she would DESTROY her one and only NATURAL ENEMY.
Dekiru….
I can do it…
{I… I can…} The fleeting thoughts flashed through the young girl's mind.
Just like the precise, the exact moment when a child was able to ride a bicycle on their own; It was just like the exact moment when a young girl was about to fall in love. I can DO this.
…as her knuckles piledrove four spikes in slow motion into Clark's head, threatening to destroy everything in its path. As… as the thin flesh that enveloped his skull rippled outwards to escape from the sudden impact. TO END IT, ALL! Raison Detre, this is the reason I exist.
Clark's face swerved sidewards with mouth open, spewing out a guttural slime before he could realize that his head had just been cleanly hit straight on with the same force as a small sledge hammer. {Ah! Robert!} Yuri thought silently, though the expression of elation and glee bubbled and erupted on her face with such a sudden surge of rapture! {ROBERT! I…}
I CAN WIN! FOR YOU! ROBERT! And ONLY YOU!
Every waking moment, thoughts of YOU enslave my mind. Clark Steel.
Yuri all of 4 years old cheered, her hands clasped in prayer in front of her chest. All ten fingers interweaved in each other tightly - "Mister star…" Yuri begged. "Mister star in the sky." Hoshi-san, yo. "I WISH…" Yuri pleaded, she BEGGED. "I WISH so very VERY much!"
"Robert, I, I want to tell you, that I… that you are… That I…"
…
Robert… Robert Garcia… I… lo…
The END of La Bizarre Love Pentagon – part 36.
i t . meets . a t . t h e . same . place
…
{If I can defeat an evil man like Clark. Does It not mean that I am better than King?}
"My name is Clark, Clark Steel." He greeted the ugly blonde haired boy in front of him.
{If MY truth is more ULTIMATE than YOURS.}
Clark, with his hands at his sides, stood at attention, looking up to the star in the sky, as it fell, only to be devoured by the sad results of obscurity. Allow me this privilege, allow me to give you PURPOSE. When the star fell and shot across the heavens, he opened his mouth.
NO!
NO!
Not here. Not now. Just as human conception requires two unique and distinct elements, the [singularity] abides by similar rules. And [another] force of nature will not allow itself to succumb to extinction so very easily.
…
Whiiirrrrrrrr…. Shhhhhhhghhh… Click.
A mechanical error and now, everything was clouded with black and white static and shook in place so very similar to the television in the 1980s shaking violently back and forth tracking on four axes rendering the picture so difficult to watch
Click. The black and white image finally came into focus and was frozen solid and clear.
"Is that all?" King said looking back from the depths of that cold, red, plastic housed black and white television screen from the 1980s. "Do you give up?" The MEMORY, it, the black and white photograph was hard to see now as it was enveloped in a sandstorm of blurry static.
Do you understand [it] now?
"Yes."
Yes, I understand.
Let us take back, what was once OURS! …and ours alone, my… my DEAREST friend.
Clark twisted his left ankle.
[DARK squares… and… LIGHT squares.] Clark clenched his right fist so, so VERY hard, so hard it impaled four NAILS into his bleeding, trembling palm. The ground was immediately littered with a checkerboard of black and white quadrilaterals.
"A!" Yuri…
{There is no YOUR TRUTH, there is only TRUTH.} …and that, I will have to teach you.
"…little girl." Oh. Oh. I spoke out loud again.
It happened so quickly. Could it be? Did HE have a STAR of his own?
Yuri felt the specter of ten cold fingers wrap themselves, their tips digging into her shaking shoulders. "Yurichi…" A blonde haired boy said sweetly; pulling itself out from the dark shadows behind Yuri's back, with two pinpoint bloodshot eyes of a Pierrot whose eyelids had been cut by knives, it floated. Hunched over her shoulder, a Frankenstein face, perched his wide grinning mouth next to Yuri' ear… triangular shark teeth chattering as they positively interlocked with each other inside his mouth – he whispered amidst the small, wiggling penetrations. "Yuri-chi…"
Did you ever experience the moment of 'losing your train of thought'? Or the sudden, jarring instant when – they called it 'déjà vu' – the experience of living though a moment in real time, as though you had had experienced it a sometime before? Or… a simple and easily forgotten moment when, immersed in your thoughts and actions, you felt a bump in your step and curiously thought to yourself silently…
…what happened? Did time suddenly skip like a broken record, and, a single second was stolen from the flow of time, without your permission as you looked outwards and stopped walking.
She did not realize it then, but Yuri was in a room. A dark, cold room, littered beneath with dark and light squares like a checkered chess table.
…
Yuri Sakazaki could have sworn that the feedback in her fist was true and solid, but for that single, momentary 61st second, her bicep jerked forward – as if nothing was at the other end of her attack. While she asked this question to herself, a HARD and solid mass impaled her stomach with such savage force, the shape of a fist pierced through her back – the same way that a fist drove itself into a thick blanket of bone and flesh.
…and LIGHT SQUARES.
The shape of a fist launched 8 inches outwards from her lower back, behind her stomach, its silhouette like a monster that was forcefully giving birth to itself.
…
If I can prove Clark wrong, then that means I will be right. If the power of Kyokugen's promise is true, and if I win against him then I will tell you my true feelings, because if I can defeat the man who beat King, that means I am better than the King that saved us, right?
…
Just as if hit by a speeding car, Yuri LAUNCHED rearwards, her back hit hard and embedded itself into a tall steel electrical cabinet, the back of her head was shortly to follow, whacking the thin sheet metal like a hammer and popping her eyes from its sockets; the folded metal curled around her body that was splayed apart as she was crucified. Her body was now of the consistency of clay, weak and numb her body became one with that rectangular steel bear trap that felt like it absorbed her body more and more with each passing moment.
"GHHHAGHHK!" Yuri vomited, suspended motionless in mid air devoured by that steel cage.
and if I win against him then I will tell you my true feelings… a mixture of blood and saliva streamed down the sides of Yuri's mouth.
"Haaaaaaagggggghhhh…" Clark heaved with his body hunching over. Just wobbling back and forth to numb the pain. "HGHahGAkgh." He coughed, expelling viscous goo to remind him he was still alive.
My feelings. MY FEELINGS for you… you are the most wonderful thing in the world.
The sparkling silvery glitters floated down from the sky when the colours of Yuri's body became black, white and shades of gray. When time begun to slow – initially through denial, in anger, then fear, and finally, in a plain and ultimate, peaceful surrender.
Clark looked at the ground, one by one, bit-by-bit the orchestra of tears soiled the concrete with rain, then finally he tilted his head up.
I KNOW, SOMEDAY TOGETHER WE WILL BE…
{That hurt.} Clark thought. "That hurt, very, very much." Both arms hung limp, penduluming in front of his body. A warm mist fogged in front of Clark Steel's dark shades when the world grew cold.
The ridiculous will of fighting. Clark Steel. As much as I am REPULSED by you, at the same time I am so DRAWN to you…
…and this, I simply, I just simply cannot understand…
..BE WITH YOU, IN [A] HEAVEN.