Street Fighter: Dream Never Ends

by Talyn Rahman-Figueroa

  The heavy scent of incense was spread through the air as an awakened breeze wafted into the stuffiness of the temple room. The walls were old, its wooden shafts barely strong enough to hold the remains of the ceramic tiled roof.

  Feeling a drop of water splash onto his cheek, Ryu opened one eye. He held still in his seated meditating position, in order to avoid being scolded. He felt another drop. It was raining hard outside. From the corner of his eye, he could see Ken’s young face contorted into a frown, forcing himself awake. Gouken was muttering his usual morning prayer. Shuffling away from Ken, Ryu watched his master’s lips move slowly as each syllable was pronounced with care and meaning that made him feel at complete ease. Ryu knew that Gouken meant every word that left his mouth; and he was filled with a great sense of protection.

  “Form is no other than emptiness. Emptiness is no other than form. Form is only emptiness, emptiness only form,” Gouken recited slowly in Japanese. His voice carried to the corners of the torch-lit room. “We are what we think. All that we are arises without thought. With our thoughts, we make the world. Speak or act with a pure mind, and happiness will follow you like a shadow...”

  Ryu smiled, looking at his master with such intensity that his heart shook. His beard was a gray-speckled brown that peaked out from under his chin. His small eyes were almost hidden by the overgrown brows, and it was almost difficult to tell whether his lids were open or not. The ash gray shawl draped over his shoulders bared arms that were covered with tendons. His elbows rested on crossed knees, and he gently held a thin stick of incense with closed palms.

  Ryu’s smile widened. He felt exhilarated that such a man had willingly taken him under his care. He dreamt of becoming big and strong like him; like this man who had promised to raise him as his own.

  “Ryu...” Gouken’s deep voice rumbled, breaking the rhythm of his chanting.

  Ryu jumped, startled at the sudden change of tone. He gulped, frightened, but Gouken remained still with his eyes closed.

  He said, “I sense that you are looking at me, boy,” his chilled breath fogging in front of him.

  Ryu gulped audibly, amazed that his meditating master was able to sense his slightest action. He should have been meditating too, but this was his only chance to study Gouken’s physical state, the scars, the burns, the many wounds he bore, without feeling his master’s eye on him. He was curious to learn but wanted to avoid being superficially inquisitive.

  “Sensei, why do you always wear that around your neck?” his young voice trembled, referring to the sandalwood beads. To the left of him, Ken stifled his laughter. Gouken sighed, then opened his eyes to Ryu’s youthful face. He was almost in an exalted state, his eyes glittering with spittle on his lips, shimmering.

  Gingerly, Gouken traced the large beads on his neck, then he outstretched his palm on his thigh. One bead was big enough to cover Ryu’s entire hand.

  “This is the Japa Mala,” Gouken began, his voice intently low. “The Japa Mala is traditionally used to keep count while reciting. These particular beads are used to tame.”

  “Tame what?” Ryu cut in intrusively, and his eyes fell in shame for being too impatient.

  “Selfish motivation.”

  He looked up with a sadness that seemed painful. “But you’re not selfish, Sensei,” Ryu muttered, reminding himself of Gouken’s well-meaning generosity. It annoyed him that Ken was squirming so loudly beside him. The many candles around them were inadequate heat, and he always hated morning meditation.

  “Overcoming selfishness is a difficult skill to maintain, my boy. As you grow older and stronger, you will be open to many opportunities that are selfish. The twenty five beads around my neck are a reminder of motivation for unselfishness. To tame is to subdue harmful energies. Only those who are motivated by passion can try to tame.”

  Gouken paused, hearing Ryu breathe loudly over the harsh rain that drummed on the rooftops.

  “Yes, Ryu?” he urged upon seeing Ryu’s pained face.

  “What if I’m not strong enough to tame my selfishness? Does that mean I will never become a good fighter?”

  Ken burst out laughing, caught Gouken’s frown, and quickly placed a hand over his mouth.

  “Selfishness is a deliberate act performed with full consciousness to fulfil one’s own agenda. If you are aware of your own actions, you will be able to judge whether you are acting in the interest of others. My objective is to teach you boys the Shotokan arts without hindering your natural strengths, but it is also my duty to protect you from harm while you learn. My master, Goutetsu, made many mistakes with his pupils, and I intend to not follow in his footsteps. That, Ryu, is my test, not yours.”

  Ryu felt rage erupt recognizing the wooden Japa Mala that hung around Akuma’s muscled neck. The beads had a good deal of wear to them. Some were cracked, and others were chipped with gaping holes. Wearing the Japa Mala was an insult to Gouken’s memory. He had been stripped from life for nothing but Akuma’s own selfishness and greed for power. The red aura around him was proof of his obsession. Ryu braced himself for the blows that were certain to follow, feeling Akuma’s disruptive aura pound him with great force.

  The earth began to rumble beneath them. Akuma slammed his fist into the ground, causing a small seismic wave. The concrete cracked like a broken shell with splinters and stones powdering the air, but he dashed through it, throwing a flurry of orchestrated kicks and punches that penetrated Ryu. His jaw snapped, then a gouging pain shot through his stomach like a bullet. He doubled over, retching, then was thrown across the street.

  Ryu slid along the ground, his gi already splattered with his own blood. He squinted to probe the shadows around him, but a sudden rush of heat made him look up wide-eyed.

  The sky was alit with a meteorite shower of fireballs. Akuma simply grunted, hurling Hadou-kens from the air one after the other, quicker than anything Ryu had ever witnessed. He rolled left, then right to avoid the exploding attack, but there was nowhere for him to turn. Hearing silence, he somersaulted upward, slamming his forearms together for defense, but his chest seared with pain from the ambushed. Feeling the crushing weight of Akuma’s dive kick on his shoulder, there was barely enough time to react.

  Scurrying back, Ryu tensed his body to block the attacks, but each strike felt like a heart attack that horribly shook his body. He tried to sidestep the punch, but his cheek was caught by another hand. A screeching hum resonated in his right ear, which leaked blood. Ryu was soft-bodied compared to the demon that was killing him. Akuma’s power was inexhaustible.

  “This is the path of the weak,” Akuma grumbled coarsely, his mouth barely open as he spoke.

  He pounded the crown of Ryu’s head, and watched him drop to his knees, paralyzed. He grabbed a tuft of Ryu’s hair and effortlessly lifted him to his feet. Akuma’s dark red eyes shone with vengeance as Ryu squirmed in pain.

  “You are no different from many of those I have fought before you,” Akuma spat in disgust. “Without the Dark Hadou, you have sold yourself short.”

  Ryu half looked up at his assailant. In the gathering darkness, he could not make out his expression, but he felt unperturbed by the destructive aura emanating from Akuma’s powerfully built body. Nothing reflected back in those blood scarlet pupils, not even Ryu’s pitiful face. Akuma had been toughened by decades of toil and training, and had become a hollow shell with no human soul. His skin looked like battle-hardened leather, and the power he held in his fist was more destructive than a juggernaut. Making Akuma feel pain would require the attack of a thousand fireballs, and that was impossible.

  The smallest hint of a smile twitched at the corners of Akuma’s chapped mouth, as he grabbed Gouken’s most prized pupil tighter.

  “You shall follow your beloved master for disobeying me,” he said, maintaining the slight smile, before throwing Ryu into the air with the crippling Dragon Punch.

  Ryu gurgled, and landed hard on the ground. He shook, wobbling to his feet, unable to
apprehend Akuma’s movements in his shadowlike state. His mouth gaped open with dripping blood as he sucked in quick breaths to calm the pain that tore away at his flesh. Mastering the Dark Hadou had made Akuma impregnable, but he had no soul and felt no emotion, Ryu earnestly reminded himself. It had to be his weakness.

  “To tame is to subdue harmful energies,” Gouken’s deep voice rang in Ryu’s head. His face was alight with a serenity that rivaled Akuma’s wrath.

  “Sensei?” Ryu gasped, disturbed by Gouken’s sudden appearance. He hadn’t seen a vision of his Master since the night he first felt the Dark Hadou. He could almost feel the air move where Gouken walked, but he had to focus on the fight.

  “At this moment, what more need we seek?” Gouken spoke gently, standing tall beside his student. Ryu tried to straighten up, but a sharp twinge in his ribs kept him low.

  “I am not Akuma,” he answered back, shaking, digging the tips of his toes into the dirt. “I am much more than he and the Dark Hadou could ever be.”

  “It is too clear and so it is hard to observe,” Gouken frowned, rolling his large shoulders back and forth. “Do not look but really see,” he murmured in his deep Japanese accent, stooping low on a level with his student. Then he chanted the code of the warrior, the words that had kept Ryu focused for so long.

  Slowly, Ryu took deep breaths through his nose, filling his lungs, willing the throbs of pain to subside. To calm. There was a low grumble. The tail of his red headband danced as Akuma’s red fireball created a hurricane that only God himself could form. He growled, his teeth bare like a savage wolf.

  “Emptiness is no other than form,” Gouken said evenly. His eyes were soft and gentle as ever.

  The fireball grew larger and larger, yet Ryu was unable to focus. He tried again, breathing with discipline. His knuckles clicked as his hands balled into fists.

  “The fight is all but one part of the way,” Gouken said with intent. “It is not how you fight, but why you fight.”

  “Why I fight?” Ryu stuttered, his brows lifting at the sudden thought. He faced forward, peering at Akuma’s evil red eyes through the magnanimous crimson fireball that advanced rapidly towards him.

  “Why I fight...” Ryu took a sharp intake of breath. His face was free from strain as he stood into a wide-legged posture. His fingers twitched with the effort of keeping so still, his body tense, frozen, for just a few more seconds.

  “Why I fight...” he silently repeated, contemplating the journey Akuma made him take just to re-discover himself. With a terrifying growl, Ryu stepped in front of the deadly fireball. Akuma peered through the lift of smoke, expecting to hurl him screaming to the ground, but his mouth sagged as he watched Ryu parry the fireball with the slightest flick of his hand.

  “What is that power?” Akuma uttered, stunned, ceasing the preparation of the Raging Demon. The energy he had created was powerful enough to render a building to debris, yet Ryu was diminishing the fireball with his fingers alone, until the ball evaporated.

  Dashing through the flame, Ryu caught Akuma in the face with a straight punch, then switched the strikes to the ribs, stomach, and heart. The red aura around him dimmed. His body became unburdened from an ache he had felt for years. Freed from the Dark Hadou, Ryu was stronger. The determination on Ryu’s face was just as real as the last time Akuma had fought Gouken.

  “Brother...” Akuma gurgled, made hostage to Ryu’s tight grip around his thick neck. He could feel Ryu’s wheezing breath on his face, staring at him with one good eye that remained intensely astute. His shaking body betrayed his effort but his blood-glistened face was peaceful, proving that the pain searing through him could never weaken him. If he hadn’t been wearing the red headband, Akuma would have sworn he was staring down at a young version of the brother he killed.

  “Eyes are windows to the soul, Akuma, but you have none,” Ryu said evenly, his face absent of any of the fear he had once felt for the demon. He looked into Akuma’s eyes and saw nothing. The tendons on his arms pulsed to the point of bursting. He squeezed hard until he was able to feel the faintest beating of a heart.

  Akuma rumbled with laughter, making no effort to retreat from Ryu’s grasp.

  “I waited the day I would fight you again,” Akuma mumbled, baring teeth to mimic a faint smile. A small trace of blood seeped through the crack of his mouth. Wrenching Ryu’s hand open, he quickly released himself, and teleported back to take a good look at the damage he had done to the limping warrior.

  “Enough!” he continued in a roar, stamping his feet hard on the blood-stained concrete. “You have tested my strength, now you shall learn that our art is used for killing alone.”

  Akuma growled, shaking in a solid wide stance as the red aura around him fired with great strength.

  Ryu closed his eyes, picturing Sakura’s bright smiling features morph into Ken’s confident face. His heart pulsed fiercely with the thought of never seeing them again, if he lost this fight. He thought of Tawnya and the suicidal tortures she had endured under Akuma’s control, and Guy’s and Ken’s illegal suffering from the Raging Demon. Gingerly, he thumbed the thick skin around his heart, and he felt his heart’s thunderous beats. His emotions were fueled by the people he loved. He felt the joys of friendship, the sadness of a lost life, and the pride in someone else’s achievements. On the other hands, Akuma had traded his human emotions for the sake of infinite power. The lines on his face were void of any sentiment or value for life itself. Ryu smiled ever so slightly. So long as he had people he cared for, he would always have a reason to train and better himself, for them.

  “You desire the ultimate fight through your aggression,” Ryu spoke softly, despite the intense pain of his open wounds and broken bones. “You took upon yourself to master the dark arts by killing your family, to pave the path of the strong, and for what?” His knuckles crunched one by one as he tightened his hand. “You have no purpose, Akuma, and you shall leave no legacy.”

  Ryu smeared the blood away from his ears, then ran at Akuma with his hands clenched tight in front of him. Their fists collided. The impact caused the towering apartments around them to shake, clouding the scene with dust that escaped from the concrete. Ryu grinded his fist into Akuma’s reddened face, and felt something crack beyond his jaw. He hopped on his toes, bouncing on the balls of his feet, penetrating his enemy with kicks that had Akuma momentarily winded.

  “You give no heart in the fight,” Ryu spat, the red headband flaring behind him. “Lack of emotion makes you weak,” he growled, lunging a punch deep into Akuma’s toughened stomach before breaking his jaw open with the opposite fist.

  “I know that now,” he continued, trapping his enemy in a roundhouse kick. The blow was hard, and Akuma’s neck snapped back. Unable to move from his hunched position, he retched.

  “The art to kill stops here,” Ryu hissed in a crouched position, his knuckles cracking under the fighting mitts before leaping high into the air, screaming, “SHIN-SHORYUKEN!”

  A mess of blood splattered onto the ground. Akuma clicked his jaw back into place with a harsh twist of his hand, then teleported back over the rubble and craters they had created. Desperate, he brought his hands together behind him, instantly rousing a heat of energy that melted away the rope that held his dark gi together.

  Ryu’s eyes glinted from the lethal fireball that magnified in Akuma’s hands. He gnashed his teeth, then blew out air as the fireball grew ferociously. Ryu smiled slightly, his arms moving fluidly in front of him, until small sprites of blue energy sparked between his hands.

  “METSU!” Akuma suddenly roared, releasing the comet red fireball that sonically sped towards his foe.

  “DENSHIN...” Ryu cried, shaking in his stance with his arms now drawn back. He knew the Metsu had the power to kill, but as its counterpart, the Denshin would neutralize it.

  “...HADOU-KEN!” he yelled with his lips curled, thrusting the blue energy towards the more superior fireball. He saw a blur of Akuma’s sil
houette in front of him, his white teeth flashing in a sneer, until the fireball suddenly exploded.

  There was a deafening bang. It was followed by crashes of windows that broke free from the apartments. Ryu flew back, feeling his skin slashed by splinters of glass and fragments of rock. His head thudded against solid ground. He groaned, clutching at his ribs with shaky hands. As he squirmed, something hot flashed deep in his shoulder joint, letting him know that the bone had been broken. Then came an eerie silence. With great effort, he squinted, seeing gray mists shadowing the surrounding area.

  “Akuma,” he spluttered in between coughs, feeling his lungs choke with the deluge of debris that lingered in the air.

  He crawled forward, using the strength of his left arm, and heaved himself up to his trembling knees.

  “Akuma?” Ryu called again, unable to see any living thing move beyond the darkness.

  His heart jolted at the devastation around him. The once-standing condominium towers were rubble piled in front of him like that of a war-torn city. Ryu blinked his eyes rapidly until moisture returned to them.

  “Sensei?” a young voice cried.

  “SAKURA!” he yelled, finding the strength to stand on his feet.

  He desperately looked around, unable to make out the shapes that lay still on the ground. He wanted to call out to her, but instead he coughed blood against his arm. Rocks cracked under his feet. As he scrutinized the ground with a squinting eye, he tread carefully. The silence of her voice had almost terrified him. There was only a dizzying hum in the air.

  “Sakura?” Ryu called loudly, sucking air that sent cuts through his chest.

  He stood, breathing hard, then he felt his ankle caught by the weak grip of a hand.

  Ryu swiveled around, his breath strangled. Sakura smiled feebly at him from the ground. Her forehead was cut open, and it had stained the white headband red. Ignoring the sharp twinge of his joints, Ryu grabbed her up in a mighty hug, holding her so close enough that she could feel his heart thumping rapidly.

  “You’re alright, you’re alright,” he muttered, relieved, tracing the back of her hair with his fingers.

  “Ugh, Sensei, you’re squashing me,” Sakura wheezed, tapping him on the shoulder for release. He shook, his heart heavy with an emotion that made him hold onto her tighter, in spite of her muttering protests.

  “I know why I fight now,” his voice faltered, nuzzling his head against her shoulder.

  His eyes suddenly flung open distracted by the sounds of heavy footeps over the rubble. Ryu crunched his fists, expecting to see Akuma before him, but he caught his breath from the surprise of something warm touch his wounded shoulder.

  “You shall finally test your strength against me once you’ve recovered, boy,” Gouken said warmly, smiling down at him.

  ###

  About the Author

  “Street Fighter: Dream Never Ends” is the first series of novels based on the popular fighting video-game, Street Fighter. With its 20-year gaming history, the Street Fighter novel has been written for loyal fans spanned across the world. The novel will appeal to readers of Barry Eisler, David Gemmell and Robert Crais, all of whom had greatly inspired the writing of Talyn Rahman-Figueroa.

  Street Fighter novelist Talyn Rahman-Figueroa is a diplomatic director from London, United Kingdom. As a graduate of Japanese and diplomacy, and a former student of the Shotokan Arts, Rahman-Figueroa has dedicated much of her youth in exploring and understanding the depth and personality of her favourite character, Ryu.

  Connect with the Author

  Twitter: https://www.twitter.com/blazeryu

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/mstalyn

  Website: https://www.dreamneverends.com