The Colour Purple Chapter 126: the Poem of Love, a king of fighters fanfic

The Colour Purple... The King of Fighters '95

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]

How would things have changed… between a boy... and a girl... like you and me… had I chosen differently back then? If I knew THEN what I know now, and instead of wandering aimlessly like a little girl so afraid of commitment, because I was ignorant – had I acted differently towards you… A ridiculous notion, and a whimsical notion. All at once.

"It's because I LOVE you." Could love, be a RIGHT granted by God to every single human being? An opportunity that should be equally allotted to all. Oh but alas, to be loved in return – that is the true privilege. Oh…

Oh... I know now, to receive a RIGHT means to never impose your will on another.

That is something selfish girls will never understand.

This is what your master warned you of; And I think deep down inside, you understood it. This is the price you have to pay. Do not blame ME. For you paid the devil's due willingly.

And if you truly did love me, and I did not love you in return, perhaps because of my arrogance, or mayhaps it was because of my fear. While I cannot turn back time – nor can I guarantee that if given the chance, I would have chosen differently; rest assured, I often entertain the dream on certain silent moments, 'what would have happened' – had I chosen otherwise.

Had I not been afraid.

Would we have both fallen love with each other and ended the story prematurely. To live in happiness without regrets? As we die clinging to the past, rest assured, that I did very much appreciate the time we spent together. Even if everything else was shrouded in lies, in that once shining glimmer only we shared, though cheap now... was indeed true.

The colour from Yuri's eyes faded now into a plain milky white. The world erupted. Enveloping hell with blinding light. An innocent girl's last defiant cry. And I hope these words reached you. Out there… My… My friend.

…Even if we are not together, we still have to face the trials of the world a horrid God left for us.

….

In slow succession, one, two then three piano notes… three more – and finally six keys sung softly the beginning of a sad, sad song into the air.

{I'm back here again. Aren't I?} Yuri sighed. "This place again." (74).

Before she knew it - she found herself in a horrid, yet familiar place. A dark room in the 1980s; wearing her now outdated clothing and permed long hair that was curled in tune with the current fashion. {Why are you STILL here?} The young girl talked AT herself in the third person. She was 7 years old again, revisiting this place called despair, called regret.

She understood it quite plainly now. How, carelessly, she had lost so much time, between THEN and NOW. Had she been more courageous, had she not let her fear enslave her – and had she instead hardened her heart BACK THEN – would things have turned out differently, NOW?

This is indeed the privilege of people, to be able to muse on and reminisce about rhetorical questions while undomesticated beasts around us tried to desperately survive every single day.

THE ROOM. It was once a dark vacuum with four walls that imprisoned me in a lonely place. However, just as Yuri Sakazaki looked upwards and outwards when she finally mustered the courage to stand.

However, this time, the door was open…

The four walls that at one time, served to suffocate her, and the door that prevented her ascent to freedom was now, open, as if it had been this way, all this time.

All this time. Had you opened this door, and was I simply too ignorant to realize it, all this time? And what did you offer me, when you faced me then? Was I wrong, then, to refuse? Was it love or was it hatred? I was simply too foolish to understand it when I was younger.

Though, now… we have BOTH become much too ARROGANT to ask for forgiveness.

What was on the other side of that door was [freedom and peace]. To be able to escape from the chains that pulled us back into the past. Yuri stood on two feet now, absolutely fearless, and it did not matter to her if what fueled her determination was courage or if it was anger. TO her it was the same thing.

Adults. Adults spend too much time and too much money – trying to justify their errant yesterdays, to clear their minds from the lulling anesthetic apathy that constantly reminded them that their life was meaningless – trying to fill their hearts with delusions of everything and anything. Religion is probably like this, the distraction offered by the pursuit of love and happiness is probably meant for this purpose – the mindless hunt for carnal pleasure was probably rooted in this base concept. And THAT, what pleasure cannot provide, in its stead, it is why we endevour to CUT DOWN everyone around us… just so, by proving to ourselves everyone else who does not subscribe to our madness, was unworthy to be alive. Just to prove to ourselves, that, BACK THEN, we were NOT wrong.

To cut you down, because my cause is right, my purpose is rooted in virtue. And this justice – is true. That is what I understand, as my half of the selfish nature of FIGHTING.

The root of existence is CONFLICT. These are the opposing forces that propel the world.

…

To test the veracity of your conviction.

The great, sad, bitter fruit, however, was that on the opposite side of that now open prison door, was simply just ANOTHER room. Two rooms that lead to nowhere connected in between by the same single door that promised liberty as you stared at it. The irony of it all was that, even after her struggle, even as she persevered, coming back over and over to this memory with the belief that if she tried harder, fought fiercer, she could somehow change the flow of [today]. At the other end of her journey was simply another room, locked together like a Siamese dream.

The short hairs on the back of Yuri's neck stood at attention as she slowly came to understand what would happen next; And that she had no recourse other than to accept it.

Across from her vision was an eternal spanning darkness – and from the back corner of that room, one, two then three steps echoed, soft and hard to hear at first, but soon, it quite clearly became recognizable - the thing that hid in the unknown was coming forward towards her.

One step then two… with a calm, and steady pace – the sound of firm and confident footsteps was the only thing that Yuri could focus on – from the darkness a pair of legs came into vision.

"Did you think it would be that easy…? That YOU could find THE truth, without another TRUTH meeting you half way?" To test the VERACITY of your conviction…?

With hardly any light seeping into the space, Yuri's mind did not scientifically understand but her body comprehended well enough that in pitch black, shadows should not exist here where the world was devoid of light – yet it seemed like those legs appeared and walked into sight from a thick, opaque fog. Up its thighs, its waist the Children's body gradually became easier to see with her eyes that had now adjusted to the imprisoning void.

{Just as divine light blinded us, so did the corrupting darkness overcome us, and render us unable to truly SEE.} That was what the voice that waited, said.

Ah yes, Yuri was now absolutely lost in a volatile solution of reactionary emotions. Fear, hate, happiness, hope, regret and anger. In 1984, a little baby girl wanted nothing more than to escape, be free, and convinced herself that if she could somehow delude herself, and change her understanding of what happened back then, maybe, she could indeed change the future.

But, the true, MIGHTY answer had changed – all without her conscious permission.

"Ofcourse…" She sighed. It makes sense that YOU would follow me even HERE too…

In front of her – standing just a few steps now from that open door was a young, 13 year old blonde boy. He just stood there; and there was nowhere to go with two rooms connected to each other. A great irony, she was left without a path of egress into the free world.

"The meaning behind YOUR war is absolutely irrelevant to me…" the teenage Clark Steel, arithmetically lost in time, said out loud. It's only YOU and ME here. In this place. In 1984.

The END of La Bizarre Love Pentagon – part 40.

th e Si a Me se Dre am

…

A soft piano key swung that hammer down, creating a peaceful tune. Then, 4 seconds passed in silence...

Yuri mumbled something,

"WHAT!?" Clark called out. "I can't damn hear you."

"I'm tired..." Yuri said softly. "I'm so… very…"

"Eh?" Clark spat out.

"I'm tired of this Bizarre Love Pentagon." Yuri called out as she rose to her feet like a cold zombie.

A hard and forceful slap downwards brought them back to 1993. Clark deflected Yuri's right cross with his left palm easily.

…

"Don't you care if she really loves you or not?" Yuri said now calming down. "Will you be happy, will SHE be happy if you force this on her."

"I… do... not... CARE." Clark spelled it out slowly. Clark snarled an evil smile and,… SCHHRRKKK,…. The will of fate, stopped… and… the story, like an outbound, out of control train, derailed from its original course. The story that was written 20 years ago, had changed.

…and now, complicated words exchanged, were replaced, simply, with FIGHTING, instead…

…

SCHHRRRKKKKEEIIKKGHK.

How far would you go for this stupid romantic dream of yours? You think this is some god damn love story? Well, go ahead. Show me! Take it back! Sakazaki YURI!

…

With a hard right punch an ultimate technique, Yuri threw her right fist like a comet at Clark's FACE once again – the world's vision was a guided missile driving itself at breakneck speed, and all it could see was the front side of Clark's temple growing from tiny to large in a matter of seconds; When all we could see was the colour of the dark plastic lens that protected Clark's eyes when it now covered the entire screen – the boy stood frozen unable to escape.

"Hey. Com-mon… REACH OUT – and DEFEND yourself, Clark Steel." The knight instructed.

INFINITY!

However, to make a mockery of it all, her punch was swatted aside easily at the last moment. A hard, wet sounding slap, Clark stood calm and upright hardly even taking the time to look the girl in the eye. As if swatting away an insignificant insect, the defense was true and it was absolute. Just as the echoes subsided, only to be forgotten by the shambles left by time.

Clark sighed silently – again – the once poison laced fear and apprehension in his face had now returned to a calm deadpan stare out to the void – just as he absolutely did – not - care. Yuri's punch flew wide, missing its mark. When the protected, treasured ultimate attack of Kyokugen Karate floated downwards, Clark's face filled the gaps and with a slight tilt in his head, the furrows in his brows drooped lethargically when her arm, like windshield wipers cleared her vision of the blurry haze and revealed a clear picture.

Clark breathed another soft sigh. {Come and take it.}

Left and right again, Yuri wailed both fists wildly with the same extreme voracity that was Kyokugen karate's ultimate technique. Though it seemed impossible for her mortal engines to continue – multiple attacks that needed immortal fuel to exist, still then she punched with her right – only for the back of Clark left wrist to curl over backwards to easily parry it – and when her left hook hurled itself into Clark's temple, the boy clawed the opposite hand around and launched her rage upwards. Clark's movements were slow, calm and precise – certainly, when a man realizes that a single oncoming attack could instantly kill him if it connected, his movements would become slower, more measured and calculated. Clark understood clearly now, that if even if one of Yuri's hits were to successfully make contact with his head, HE would surely die.

Burdened with such heavy thoughts; when he understood that your life could be ended by a singular, callously irresponsible movement… Clark's actions became slower. However, Clark grinned with a tight, fang toothed snarl – was this NOT the same as it was back THEN!? Just how different is THIS – a fine balance of great calculated risk when KING was ready to KILL me?!

Clark tilted at the waist and heaved his upper torso forward, now, his right fist cocked back at the same instant after he was able to swat both of the girl's hands outward. To defend, retaliate. And. To DESTROY.

…

Clark hunched forward and pressed the cold ice bag on his temple. There he was, in a dark space - floating in a void in front of him was a 13-year-old King who sat cold and uncaring with his hands on his knees, staring back at Clark.

At the end of Clark's gaze was the little boy King, hands on his knees and sitting upright now looking back at him. Just two blonde haired boys, sitting on wooden chairs floating in the darkness. In 1977.

It is just YOU and ME here… NOW. I WISH, time had stopped… then.

Chapter 126: the Poem of Love

…and we could have ENDED our story with love. Because. I hate fighting.

…

{The next hit has to connect, and it has to END it.} Clark understood this concept plainly. Cocking his right fist back as far as it would go, he gauged his target carefully. With a slight, momentary opening – in order to sever, to cut the marionette's strings - he had only a small window to strike and inflict as much PAIN, and as much crippling damage as possible.

Wading in the thick sludge of darkness, he looked Yuri up and down when she stumbled back just as both her attacks were thrust sidewards. A counter and a full force hit again to her stomach may yield the same useless effect as before. {Just how long can her sorcery keep up this FAKE armour?} A blow to her midsection would likely be of little effect to this BEAST, a girl easily 50 pounds lighter than him, who somehow could absorb the punch with her peculiar magic. {Her face? Her head?} Just like a bullet right in between the eyes, maybe enough to drive her nose into her brain, the idea of killing another human being was of little consequence to a mercenary – at the exact moment he could JUSTIFY murder. And at what point…

At what point would the vindication of murder be considered a [virtue]? A quality considered morally good or desirable in a person.

The girl was surely at the very tattered edges – burning the candle from both ends. Surely when Yuri's body and her mind could bear no more, the DEVIL would collect his due, and DEVOUR her heart completely from the inside, out, at the very finality of it all. This – is the succinct difference between a fighting art that relies on a convenient sorcery, and a weapon like [OURS] that was forged in the lonely space of the outer darkness, quenched through blood, tempered by tears and weathered by the sorrowful demands of time.

[ORENCHI.] 'OURS.'

To what lengths will you persevere, in order to accomplish your mad ambition?

If you give a man, wealth, you may momentarily pacify him, if you give him pleasure, you may temporarily surmount his pain, but all those are passing follies, eventually their foundations would be eroded by evil. But. However. If you offer a man, respect, and provide him concise, clear, and just purpose…

A [meaning] to live.

Even at the brink of the clutches of DEATH, a hungry man will stand and fight for you.

…

{A!} Clark stabbed his leading foot into the ground but by this time – the dust on the ground had floated up in space - as he entertained notions of grandeur, he took far too long, knowing full well that if he made a wrong decision, it would be the end of the story.

"GGGHHHAKKKGGHH…" The savage and otherworldly beast snarled. Thick fog seeping through the spaces in between Yuri's teeth. The toes of Yuri's right foot stomped in between Clark's legs – her knee jabbing fearlessly so close that it was ready to drive Clark's crotch up into his throat – meeting him eye to eye, once again another ultimate attack launched forward even as her soul started to devour the last bit of flesh from her bones and was now feasting on the pulsating meat around her heart. Saw toothed, Yuri's jagged snarl was a black satanic shadow.

"FUCK." Clark tilted to the RIGHT of Yuri.

The world drifted in slow motion for a while – initially facing to the LEFT - but now it shifted slowly to meet equilibrium. Yuri swerved her face to the RIGHT and adjusted her attack pattern to match the same. Clark looked back, meeting Yuri's demonic stare head on just as he dodged to little avail.

"KOU!"

Yuri once again punched forward at Clark's head. The rule of Kyokugen, a nine bladed, three dimensional asterisk saw spun in multiple axes in her stomach devouring itself like an Ouroboros, her body EATING ITSELF to continue functioning. DIE! CLARK STEEL.

Both of us here.

Yuri's punch launched forward, extending as far as it would go, and just as it was about to hit, crept further, and floated in mid air.

The girl did not understand what was happening, but mayhaps, this equation was not as simple as she once thought. Clark tilted and INSTANTANEOUSLY shifted the mass of his body now to the LEFT of her, a warm smile painted across his face.

Perhaps, WE, we are both not so DIFFERENT after all. Yuri Sakazaki.

Clark hurled his left leg in a semi circular pendulum in front of him when he counter-dodged the opposite direction – and with both feet behind him, forcefully stunted the inertia that propelled him backwards and sidewards, DENIAL OF PHYSICS, widely escaping Yuri's hungry final attack. Clark slapped both palms into the ground to steady himself - both legs behind him buttressing his body equally in circularly, perfectly divided triangular thirds, THEN, launching forwards again to divide the space in between them.

Yuri cocked both fists in front of her chest, absolutely perplexed as to what happened. The same look on her twisted face was the same as an apostle who had, for the first time, witnessed a mortal man walk on water.

Clark sneered at his ascent. {You haven't seen [it].} I am now very very CERTAIN, That YOU haven't fought [HER].

GOD… a mind clouded in chaos, comprised of disjointed streams of consciousness and sentence fragments so difficult to follow. GOD DAMN IT. Yuri threw a wide right hook blindly, but Clark simply tilted back and parried it easily with his hands that spun around in slow weaving large and small alternating circles.

Even if everything else was shrouded in lies, in that once shining glimmer only we shared, though cheap now... was indeed true.

GOD. Yuri threw a right cross, her body now showing visible signs of fatigue, then a left uppercut – but at this point Clark had already grown weary, visibly grimacing at Yuri's pathetic display. As he had predicted, looking at Yuri's lethargic face, a blank expression – her eyes had now become a cloudy milky white, as Kyokugen, like a plague of hungry rats, had begun to systematically DEVOUR each other.

"Ah! A shooting star!"

I can't see you anymore… Yuri's mouth bone dry, not even a single trace of saliva on the sides of her cracking mouth. It was hardly a fight anymore, when Clark calmly took a single step back, twisting his body easily getting out of the way from this geriatric dance.

{How many times do I have to TELL you,… I did not lie to you, little girl.} Whispered the star.

Yuri took in one last wheeze, pulling her right fist up and back, floating by her temples.

Trembling.

It was at the end now, the final very end. Clark's wide smile beamed evilly as every muscle in his body tensed – from his shoulders, down his back, thighs then his ankles twisting with a crack and a snap. A technique that had been engraved deep in the granite recesses of his mind.

The silhouette of Clark's body grew blurry and difficult to follow. YOU'RE FUCKING GOING TO DIE. NOW. "THE Seq…"

But…

The revolver's hammer cocked back at the same sequence as when Clark's right foot pulled itself – from his toes back to his heel, and locked it self as far as it would go before it would propel his entire body into motion. It clicked…

"You know the rules…" The Star reminded…

"A…" Her hoarse voice answered in the affirmative. …THEN… JUST. JUST, [TAKE] IT!

"A!" Clark's mind stuttered to a halt; In the same fashion as when a once well oiled machine suddenly realized a gear had slipped, had dislodged itself, and rendered the entire GOD made plan to a screeching halt.

A! Clark felt a sinking sensation develop as a vortex from his inner core and hollow out the center of his chest at the fear and realization his brain understood.

…

The toes of Clark's right foot had momentarily slipped off the edge of the building roof.

…