The following chapters are from a story that I finished a short time ago 
inspired by Capcom's "Street Fighter" video game series. This story
focuses fairly specifically on the core characters of "Alpha 2" and,
like quite a few people before me, I attempt to flesh out the events of
the various tournaments.

Capcom does, of course, own all the rights to "Street Fighter" and the
characters that appear in this story. I'm just borrowing them for a
little bit.

Chapter 1

It wasn't much of a path. It was more like a seldom-used trail and in
this case a very rarely used trail indeed. It was the path marked on the
map, though, and it looked like the one indicated by the old man
earlier. There was more confirmation up ahead on the small hill. A small
tree stripped of its branches and leaves stood alone against a
background of healthy trees and small bushes. The top of the plant had
been cut off and was bound with strips of cloth that had become dark and
dirty with exposure to rain and wind. The tree trunk was curiously
smooth, particularly in a few spots. These were located at the levels
associated with the head, chest and waist of a man of average height.
The practice dummy was, in short, just as the old man had described it.

Brightened by this minor success, she hurried on. From what she recalled
of the old man's directions, the house would be only a few more minutes
hike north of the dummy and just across a small stream. Well, it was
once again as the old man had said. The small and very traditional
wooden frame house stood a scant 15 metres away from the stream bank.
Several large rocks formed a bridge across the stream and over these she
skipped quickly, sudden visions of the American game hop scotch coming
to mind.

The house was very traditional. She couldn't see any power lines or
antennas or satellite dishes anywhere, just the wood frame and panelling
Inside she'd probably find paper walls and straw tatami lying across the
floors and charcoal braziers for heating and cooking. Venturing up the
steps to the porch, she tentatively knocked on the door. She waited and,
when no response came, she knocked on the wood again. There was no
answer and, now nervous, she slid the door open.

The interior of the house was somewhat dim and a bit musty. Looking upon
the floor she found that only a single set of outdoor shoes remained and
these were sturdy looking winter boots. As for indoor footwear, she
found a pair of plain straw sandals much bigger than her own stocking
clad feet. Shrugging, she shook off her shoes and slipped into the
sandals. Then, remembering her manners, she arranged her shoes neatly in
a row with the boots already present and stepped across the threshold.

Exploring the house, she found that it almost perfectly matched her
expectations. There was a small kitchen and dining area and a slightly
larger chamber that could be very loosely classified as the living room.
A small corner of the living room was taken up by a small worship area
and beside that, in a clever little linen closet, was the bedding
material. To her surprise, a few of the walls contained small hidden
outlets and there was, in the wall opposite to the linen closet, a
hidden television. After that, she wasn't as surprised when she found a
working toilet and she would not have been surprised at all to have
found a sink in the kitchen area. Still, she wasn't here to ferret out
the master's secrets.

Placing her bag and gear down on the floor of the living room, she made
her way to the back of the house. Sliding open another wooden panel,
much like the one used as a front door, she stepped into what must have
been the training area. This room was less spartan than the other rooms
in that it held many more things. The floor was entirely covered by one
large _tatami_ and the racks on the walls held various weapons, both
native and foreign to Japan. There were also several wooden practice
dummies and a large, smooth boulder.

There was nothing else, though. There were no large scrolls proclaiming
the precepts of the art, nor were there paintings depicting the various
techniques and forms. The _bushido_ code wasn't even posted anywhere.
Her heart sank as a few of the dream bubbles in her mind were popped.
Sighing and beginning to feel the strain of her journey and of her
disappointment, she ventured back into the living room and lay down upon
the straw _tatami_. She would wait there. After all, the master would be
back soon and he would teach her, wouldn't he?

Hours passed and the sky grew dark. The house, apparently without the
luxury of an automated thermostat, began to grow cold. Shivering, she
rose and tiptoed to the corner where the charcoal brazier stood. The
bucket beside it was full of midnight black coal. A lighter lay just
beside the brazier. Placing a few of the precious black lumps within the
brazier and lighting one, she stood back and placed her hands towards
the forthcoming heat. She wasn't disappointed this time. Soon steady
waves of warmth emanated from the primitive heater, bringing a contented
sigh from her lips.

"What are you doing here, little girl?"

Chapter 2

She jumped, startled by the voice. Turning, she found herself looking up
into the face of the master. He was tall, for a Japanese person anyway,
and possessed of a muscular build. His dark black hair was somewhat
unruly and windblown, falling in disarray across his stern forehead. The
rest of his face was equally stern. The hard lines of his chin and
straight nose gave his face a grave severity.

"I have a name like you do and it's Sakura," she replied, the proper
amount of respect forgotten in light of his less than friendly tone of
voice.

Momentarily, a glint of amusement appeared in his eyes. Then he amended,
"What are you doing here, Miss Sakura?"

"That's better," said she, a bit shamefaced. She brightened and said, "I
was looking for you."

"Me?"

"Yes, you. Ryu, I'm you're number one fan and I want you to teach me how
to fight."

"You want to learn the way of the warrior?"

"Well, I guess."

"Why me? Why not enroll in a local dojo? That would be a lot easier,
right?"

"Why you?" she asked in disbelief. "You're the greatest street fighter
that's ever lived! Ever since you won that tournament a few years ago
you've been the talk of the martial arts world. Of course I had to ask
you! Besides, you probably know a lot more than the masters in the dojo.
You're the one who's winning the tournaments. All they do is sit around
and nag. Believe me, I know."

"Do not be so sure," he said, rather mysteriously. "Is that the only
reason?"

"Well, um... No," she answered, looking uncomfortable.

"What is this other reason?"

"It's kind of personal and, well, I'd rather not talk about it."

"If I am to teach you the way I must be trusted. Implicitly."

"Well, okay. It goes like this..."

* * * * * * * * * *

She should have listened to Kimiko. The alley was dark, the only light
provided by a stuttering street lamp behind her. The night was very
cold, especially for a July night, and the fast blowing wind didn't make
it feel any warmer. She shivered, hugging her wool sweater closer to her
body. The alley stank too, of garbage, urine and other products of human
scum. A cat, its bright yellow eyes glowing in the dark, darted across
her path and startled her.

"I definitely should have listened to Kim," she said aloud when she had
calmed down. "If I hadn't taken that 'short cut' I wouldn't have become
lost and I'd be home by now. Instead I'm wandering through a smelly
alley in the dark and on a cold night. Smart move Sakura, smart move."

Ahead she heard footsteps and, eager to ask for directions, hastened her
step. From around the corner came two men. In the dim light, she thought
that they weren't particularly old looking, perhaps in their early
twenties. They would certainly be in university at that age, but there
was something about them, something that didn't sit very well in her
stomach. Uneasy, she backed away.

They had seen her, however, and made their way towards her. "Where're
you going miss?" asked one in a harsh, low whisper. "Are you lost or
something? Maybe we can give you a hand."

She continued backing away and stumbled on something that crumpled
underneath her sneaker. Looking around, she found that she was in a
small and deserted lane behind a park. The light, though dim, was a bit
brighter than the light inside the alley and she gasped when she looked
at the men. They were both a bit wild looking and the scent of ale
emanating from each was strong and dizzying. It was enough to make her
feel nauseous.

"So, little lady," said the other. "You're a bit young to be wandering
around this late at night. Maybe me and my friend should bring you back
to our place, huh? We can warm you up pretty quick," he said with a
snicker and lewd smile.

"No, no," she answered, nervously. "I'm okay. Um, I think I'll be going
now. Bye!"

She turned to run but was tripped by one of the men. As she rolled onto
her back, one of the men pinioned her legs. The other, the one who had
first spoken, roughly caressed her through her sweater. She winced as he
squeezed her hard and cried out when he slapped her across the face.

"You're a bit young and not much of a woman," said her attacker in a
whisper, "but you'll do in a pinch."

The sudden realisation of what they were about to do caused an
up-welling of such great fear in her that she opened her mouth and let
loose a scream unlike any other she had ever produced before. The men
were both momentarily startled by the terrified cry and were paralysed
with fear but they overcame such emotions and the whispering man slapped
her face again.

"Don't do that again. We'll have to hurt you if you do."

Without further ado, he took her sweater by its hem and tugged it up and
over her face, tearing the wool in the process. The other chuckled
grimly as she felt him tugging on her belt. Tears welled up in her eyes
as she began praying to all the gods she knew, even the Christian God,
for someone to save her. Thoughts and images of friends and family
flashed through her mind as she thought, "I should have listened to
Kim..."

"What are you doing?" asked a calm voice from the darkness. "Shouldn't
you do that sort of thing in private? After all, you wouldn't want
people seeing."

"Go away," whispered the first man. He rose from her body and said,
"We'll do this wherever we want, whenever we want, whether people are
watching or not."

"Yeah," seconded the other man. "You don't have any business here. If
you don't want any trouble here go away. Us and the missus would like
some privacy."

"Missus?" questioned the stranger. "She looks a bit young to be your
'missus' and even if she was, one would think it would be a lot more
comfortable on the grass. A lot softer I would say."

"Smart ass," snarled the first man, the first time he had spoken in
anything but a whisper. "We told you to leave us alone. You didn't
listen, so me and my friend here are going to pound you into a bloody
pulp. Then maybe we'll pound you some more."

"Please try," said the stranger in the same calm tone. "I could use the
exercise."

Both men were enraged by the stranger's words and attacked, swinging
their fists wildly. Sakura, meanwhile, had sat up, still dazed from the
repeated blows to her face, though she had the presence of mind to make
herself somewhat decent and to buckle her belt. Her eyes were full of
tears and she couldn't see very clearly. Everything around her was
blurry, the combatants equally so. Still, she could not draw her gaze
away, hoping that the outnumbered stranger would prove to be her wished
for salvation.

The stranger dodged each wild swing with ease, his eyes carefully
watching their movements, though his own actions seemed flippant and
casual. Several more wild swings followed and it seemed then that both
of her attackers had begun to tire; the edge of their anger had dulled
and the adrenaline it brought had worn off.

"Is that it?" asked the stranger again.

Both of the attackers roared, their anger renewed. The second man rushed
in, lowering his head and swinging his arms wildly in front of him. The
stranger waited almost until the man had come up him and coolly
side-stepped, pushing the man more quickly on his way. Stumbling, he
wheeled back and his face met the fist of the stranger. Jarred and
knocked out of his senses by the blow, he fell back and landed on the
ground with a crash, his body going limp.

"Son of a... Who the hell are you?" asked the first man.

"Just some guy," came the answer. "You've got a choice: I've got enough
exercise for tonight. Leave and promise never to do this sort of thing
again and I'll allow you to go unharmed."

In answer, the man reached into his pocket and swiftly drew out a
pocketknife. The stranger sighed as the man charged with his knife held
forward, spear-like. As he approached, the stranger leapt straight into
the air, over the knife toting attacker and, as he fell back to earth,
quickly swivelled his hips and levelled a kick to the small of the man's
back. Already charging forward and given the extra impetus, the man
literally flew forward and landed on his face. He too, lay still on the
ground.

The stranger paused for a moment and then, sure that both men were
unconscious, approached Sakura. He asked her, a trace of concern evident
in his voice, "Are you okay, little girl?"

"I'm not a little girl," was her reply as she blinked to clear her eyes.
>From what she could see, the man was dressed all in white and stood
brightly against the black of the night. A slash of white separated his
face from the black of his hair.

"No," he said, a smile on his countenance. "You're not a little girl.
Come on. I'll take you home."

Taking her hand he helped her up and together they walked home through
the dark and cold night.

* * * * * * * * * *

"...And that all happened a few years ago, when I was still in junior
high. That's why I came to you, so that that sort of thing would never
happen again."

"Don't walk around in deserted alleys alone at night again. I promise
that you will stand a much better chance of not being raped if you do
that rather than if you learn the martial arts."

"Well, I guess... But it's not just that."

"I see. Tell me then: what is this other reason?"

"You're him, aren't you? You're the one who saved me that night. You're
about as tall as he was and you've got the same sort of build. Could you
put on a headband for a second?"

"No. You've made your decision and there is little that I can do to
dissuade you, especially as it seems you have so much proof to back up
your claims."

"So, are you the one who saved me?" she asked, a desperate look in her
eyes.

"Yes..."

Before he had finished answering she leapt into his arms and wrapped him
in a tight embrace, her head lying close against his chest. "I... I
never really got a chance to thank you. I was in shock after and it just
slipped my mind. I've wanted to find you for so long after that. I
checked and asked around but nobody could remember having seen or heard
of you and I got so depressed until I picked up a copy of a fight
magazine and there was this tiny article about a guy beating some loser
named Sagat and there was this tiny picture and I knew it had to be
you," she said in a rush, gulping great mouthfuls of air afterwards.

"So, you'll be my master, right?" she asked as she stared straight up
into his dark brown eyes.

"I can't. I'm still learning myself."

"No way!" said Sakura, releasing him from her tight embrace. "You're
like a living legend, the only guy to ever beat Sagat. Everybody else is
talking about you! You've just got to be my master."

"I... I can't. Look, you must be very tired and hungry from your trip
here. Please, make your way to the dining room and we will talk more on
this. It is..."

"I know where it is," she said. His eyebrows rose and she blushed. "I,
uh, kind of looked."

Rising, she moved silently across the room and slid the door open that
led to the dining area. He entered only a moment later, carrying a large
brown paper bag. "You'll have to excuse my cooking," he said,
apologetically. "It is not very good so I usually eat instant food.
Would instant noodles be okay with you?"

"Sure," she said. "My mom does just about all the cooking in my family.
My younger sister and I aren't too good at cooking either, but mom's
been trying to teach me. I wind up screwing up a lot, though, and just
about the only thing I can do right is boil water and work the
microwave."

"That's okay. Do you see that brown square on the wall?" he asked,
pointing with his finger. "If you push on it a couple of hot plates will
slide out."

She did as asked and the hot plates, manufactured by one of the bigger
names in kitchen appliances, slid out. "You must win a lot of money in
those tournaments," she remarked as he placed a kettle of water on the
plate. "The television and all these hidden panels and a working toilet
must have been expensive to add to a house this far out from the city."

"Actually I don't win that much money," he said in answer, placing a
bowl filled with dehydrated noodles in front of her. "I have a... I have
a friend who has money. He paid for all these things and for this house
to be built."

"Who's this friend of yours?" she asked, curious. "Does he visit you
very often?"

"He's an American. He doesn't come very often and when he does, I'm not
usually in."

"What, are you fighting in a tournament or something?"

"Yes, some of the time. Mostly I am on training trips. Why all the
questions?" asked Ryu, as he lifted the whistling kettle from the hot
plate and quickly poured the boiling water into bother of their bowls.
He handed her a pair of plain, almost too plain, bamboo chop sticks and
began eating.

"Well, I want to get to know you a lot better, Master," answered Sakura,
in between a few mouthfuls of noodles.

"Please don't call me that," he said, admonishing her with his
chopsticks. "I am still learning and I am not fit to be anyone's master.
Really you were lucky to have caught me. I only returned here to rest
before I go on another trip around the world."

"You're traveling around the world?" she asked, wonder in her eyes.
"I've always wanted to see New York, Rome, Hong Kong and Toronto... Are
you travelling to fight?"

He nodded. "There is a man who is organising a world wide tournament.
The best warriors will be taking part and I would like to test my skills
against them and see what I can learn."

"Well then you'll need someone to help you talk with everyone. My
English is pretty good, at least that's what Mr. Higashi, my English
teacher, says, and you could teach me a few things about fighting along
the way."

"I suppose that is true and I could show you a few of the techniques
that I have learned. My English, I must confess, is probably not as good
as yours is, but what do your parents say about this? Do you have their
permission?"

"Well, like duh!" she answered in typical high school girl fashion. "Of
course I do! My parents would kill me if I did anything like this
without asking. So when do we leave?"

"We will leave for the airport in 2 days."

"Airport?" she asked, suddenly nervous. "You mean we'll be heading there
by plane?"

"Of course," he said, somewhat surprised. "Is there a problem?"

"Well, um, how much will the plane tickets cost? I only have so much
money, right, and well... You know."

"Don't worry. The organizer is also paying for the plane tickets."

"Cool! What do we do until then?"

"Practice," was Ryu's simple reply.

"Uncool."

Regards,

DucThe Truong
DWC @ <http://welcome.to/dwc>
Thinkin' different.