Fatal Fury Fan Fiction ❯ Fatal Fury - The Vengeful Spirits ❯ Prologue - The Rising Storm ( Chapter 1 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

This is a LONG fic that I originally posted on fanfiction.net and archiveofourown.org. It's inspired by the Fatal Fury animes, which are, in chronological order: “Fatal Fury: Legend of the Hungry Wolf”, “Fatal Fury 2: The New Battle”, and “Fatal Fury: The Motion Picture”, so for context you might want to watch those on youtube first (though if you're reading this, chances are good you've already seen them). My fic continues where the Motion Picture left off. Originally, I wasn't going to post this here, but I changed my mind, in order to give it as much exposure as I can, since I'm extremely proud of it. This will probably be the last fic I post here, though. My full body of work, if you're interested, can still be found on fanfiction.net and AO3. My handle there is the same as it is here.

I have made a few edits to this version which, if I still feel okay about them a month from now, I will post on the other websites as well.

Hope you all enjoy this! And as with everything I write, reviews are welcome.

All characters are the properly of SNK/Playmore. I don't own them, the video games, or the anime.

Prologue: The Rising Storm

Mino, Japan – The Shiranui Dojo

It had been almost two years since Andy Bogard had last stood in the presence of his old master, but in that short time, Hanzo Shiranui looked like he had aged more than he had during the decade when Andy was his student. The face looked more heavily-lined, the white hair on the top of his head looked thinner, and though his eyes still looked as sharp as the mind within, they also looked tired. Overwhelmed by whatever crippling exhaustion was wasting his body.

Andy stood behind his girlfriend and Hanzo's granddaughter, Mai Shiranui, as she knelt by the old Koppou-Ken master's futon. Before their final walk up the long dojo steps, Mai had quick-changed out of the sundress she had been wearing and into a light blue kimono with a floral pattern across the waistband. On her feet she wore a pair of white, two-toed tabi. Andy had dressed similarly before coming in to see Hanzo, though his kimono was tailored for a man, and was a darker color with no designs on it. Hanzo had always been old-fashioned, so Mai and Andy had always tried to dress traditionally under his roof.

"Forgive me, Ojisama," Mai said as she gazed down at the hardwood floor of his bedroom. "I was away for longer than I intended to be.”

The aging master smiled and extended a shaking hand to his granddaughter, gently lifting her chin until she was facing him. "Do not be troubled by that, magomusume. I have lived my life. You must now live yours. You made sure I was in very capable hands before you left. And you checked in on me whenever you could. You have always taken good care of me."

"It's been my honor, Ojisama."

"And I sense that your travels did you good. Your mind and your spirit have grown in ways they could not if you had been tied to your routines here."

Mai nodded, remembering everything she and Andy had lived through (sometimes barely) on their search for the Armor of Mars. "I feel that they have, grandfather, but it wasn't always pleasant."

"It is not always, I'm afraid. That's why it's called growth. I look forward to hearing all about your travels and what you learned on them, but before that... will you be so kind as to make some tea? I would have words alone with my deshi."

"Hai, Ojisama. Of course." Mai kissed her grandfather gently on the forehead, then rose and excused herself from the room. On her way out she flashed Andy a weak smile that seemed to say: good luck.

Andy got down on his knees beside the futon, and immediately assumed the same stance as Mai had, head bent towards the floor. "Forgive me, Master," he said.

The old man chuckled a little. "I'm glad to see you as well, deshi. Tell me: why do you feel you need forgiveness?"

Andy drew in a shaky breath, and after a pause, let it out slowly through his nostrils. Here goes nothing. "What I did two years ago,” he said. “Leaving in the night like that without saying goodbye to you or Mai... that was wrong of me. I have my reasons, but I have no excuse. For ten years you brought me into your home, helped me gain the knowledge I had come to you for, treated me like a son... and then I insulted your hospitality, and everything else you had done for me. It was disrespectful, and I am... deeply sorry for that."

There was a long moment of silence. Then he heard Hanzo say: "Look at me." Andy raised his head, saw the old master regarding him thoughtfully. "I always knew you would be back someday. The day after you left, I told Mai-chan that this island has a habit of stealing away a part of its visitors, so they can never truly leave."

Andy nodded. "You're right, sensei. I'll always be an American, but I feel like this country has become my home."

Hanzo nodded, as well. "Tell me, deshi: did you get what you wanted from your mission for justice?"

Andy flinched. Hanzo had said 'justice,' but Andy could tell by his tone that he meant 'revenge.' After a moment, he shook his head. "No, Master," he answered. He left out that he was still bothered by two things. First, that his brother, Terry, had been the one chosen by Master Tung to learn the Sempu Ken technique; and also the fact that Terry, not Andy, had been the one who actually killed Geese Howard.

"Hm." Hanzo stroked his chin as he studied the face of his old student. "Yet I sense that perhaps you got something that you needed. The boy who left my dojo two years ago did not have any of the humility that I see in the man who sits here now. Your mind has progressed along with your physical abilities. You have continued to practice both of them on your own. Not that I'm surprised. You always exceeded my expectations when it came to your dedication. Also, any debt you feel that you owe me because of your slight, I consider paid in full, since you brought Mai-chan home safely."

Andy bowed his head. "Domo, sensei."

Hanzo coughed a little. "Well, that, and I'm too old to have debts hanging over me, anyway," he rasped. "So... what will you do now?"

Andy shrugged. "Continue to train, both here and at the Yamada dojo. Until I feel I have reached a point where my technique is perfected."

Hanzo gave him a funny smile, then, one Andy had not seen on him before. "If your enemy is dead, what are you training for now?"

Andy thought for a moment. "Myself, I suppose." Once again, he left something out: his desire to finally out-fight his brother.

The aging Koppou-Ken master nodded. "Well, your old room is yours again, if you want it. Mai-chan continued to make the bed for you while you were gone. You are very dear to her, you know."

"I know, Master."

"And do you also know that she is in love with you? She has been for some time, though I do not think she knows I have figured that out. Andy, I'm telling you this now, since I do not feel the subject will come up again while I am still alive: out of all the would-be suitors from the failed attempts by the Shiranui clan to arrange a marriage for Mai, I consider you more worthy of her hand than all of them combined."

Andy was silent. He knew that he liked Mai a lot, her quirks sometimes made him smile on the inside even if he wasn't smiling on the outside, but... was he in love with her? Did he even have what it took to be a good husband? He didn't have answers to either of those questions, yet. So far, what he did know was that he had been a poor boyfriend. But he was trying to do better. It had taken the two of them watching Sulia die for Andy to realize that perhaps Mai's love was a gift, and so on the flight back to Japan he had promised her he'd stop taking her for granted and try to act more like a boyfriend around her. But beyond that, he still was unsure what he really wanted.

Hanzo could sense that by his pupil's silence, so he simply reached out and placed his hand on Andy's shoulder. "I won't pretend to know what is in your heart," he said. "Only you can know that. If it tells you to continue your training, then do so. Just remember that not all battles are won with fists. And should you ever come to a place in your journey where you decide that you wish to marry my granddaughter, then you have my blessing."

Andy bowed his head again. "Domo arigato, sensei."

A few moments later, there was a knock on the fusuma door. "Enter," Hanzo called.

The door slid open, and Mai re-entered the bedroom carrying a tray laden not only with three cups of tea, but also a large steaming bowl, three smaller serving bowls, and some spoons.

"I heated up some miso too, just in case anyone was hungry," she explained.

"Domo, Mai-chan," Hanzo said with a nod as the kunoichi knelt on the other side of the futon opposite Andy. "I might have a little, after it cools for a bit." The master's wizened eyes lingered on his student for another moment, then he turned and accepted a teacup from his granddaughter. "Now, then, child: tell me what you've been up to."

Eight months later:

South Town Cemetery

The wind was picking up, blowing dry leaves through the darkened cemetery. It was past the hours when visitors were allowed, but Terry Bogard had snuck in anyway, because he wanted to be here, and would not let a concept like "visiting hours" keep him out.

Not like there's a time for visiting the dead that's inconvenient for THEM, he thought as he knelt in front of two graves in a quiet corner of the cemetery. The headstone on the left had a flower carved into it along with the inscription LILY MCGUIRE: FOREVER FREE OF HER CAGE. The other stone had a pair of angel wings carved on its surface, and in between the wings was written SULIA GAUDEAMUS: THE ANGEL WHO TOUCHED OUR HEARTS.

Terry was starting to wonder why he kept coming here. Comfort? That couldn't be it. He'd dropped more than enough flowers on both graves, had talked to the stones for hours, even pulled up the weeds when the groundskeepers didn't do their job. And still, he felt no comfort. Perhaps he was hoping to see one of their spirits. He'd seen Lily's spirit from time to time, but not recently. Not since that night in Turkey when he'd helped Sulia search for the Armor of Mars.

Sulia... the only time Terry ever saw Sulia was in his nightmares, as she'd plunged that dagger-like stone into her heart, though it felt like she'd plunged it into both of their hearts. Every time he dreamed that dream, he thought that maybe he could run just a little faster, try just a little harder, maybe this time he would reach her before she could deliver that fatal stab. But he was always too late.

"Always too late," he whispered into the dead stillness of the cemetery. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry that the both of you ever got to know me, and I'm sorry that I ever dared to love you, because I'm cursed. Any woman that I love will always die." A single tear fell from his eye onto the cracked soil at his knees.

After a moment, he got to his feet and put his trademark cap back on. "I don't know why I keep doing this to myself, coming out here," he said to the two gravestones. "I keep hoping I'll see one of your spirits again, but now I'm not sure what good that would do. You can't touch a spirit, can't hold it in your arms or kiss it. And I'm sure that wherever you are, neither one of you want to see me, anyway. You're both dead because I failed." He stood there with his head bowed for several minutes, and then remembered that he had somewhere to be. "I need to go now. I'll... try to come back when I can."

He shouldered his backpack, laid a kiss on the top of both headstones, and then made his way towards the cemetery wall and leaped over it. Soon, he was racing on his motorbike towards the only thing he had left that truly made him feel alive.

Twenty minutes later, when Terry arrived at the empty football field of South Town High, the wind was kicking up as a storm started to brew. A sudden bolt of lightning tore across the sky like a hot wire, illuminating the field, and by its light Terry saw a man with long black hair and an olive complexion, dressed in a red and black gi, kneeling in the center of the fifty-yard line. His eyes came open slowly as Terry crested the hill behind the goalposts.

"You are late, Lone Wolf," the man said in a reedy growl that sounded almost reptilian. "I was beginning to think you might be too cowardly to accept my challenge."

"And why would you think that?" Terry Bogard shouted over the rising storm as he dropped his backpack in the end zone, and started across the field towards the man.

The man stood, and ripped open the shirt of his gi, letting it fall from his arms and blow away in the wind behind him. Underneath, he had an ornate black and green dragon tattoo that ran in sinewy coils up most of his muscular torso. "Because I am a nightmare," the man said confidently. "I am the dragon who will finally devour the wolf, and send him to whatever hell he believes in."

Terry stopped ten yards away from the tattooed fighter, and assumed his stance. "Living is the only hell I know of," he said. "And you're not a nightmare." He flashed the man a sneer that bared his canines, just like the wolf he was named for. "You're a midnight snack."

The man assumed his own fighting stance. "Enough talk!"

"I couldn't agree more. Let's dance!" With that, they were joined in battle, and Terry gave himself over completely to the thrill of the fight: the only love he had left, and the one lady who would never leave him.

Hong Kong

"Joe, honey," said the young woman with the long, jet-black hair and low cut green dress who was seated beside him in the booth. "Did I mention how brave you were tonight?"

Joe Higashi smiled, and took another sip of champagne. "You have," he said. "Several times. But keep it up. I love to hear beautiful women talk about me. I think it's very attractive."

Joe sat in the corner booth of a restaurant with three young women, wearing a black robe over his trademark orange shorts, enjoying both a victory dinner and the ladies' company after his latest match. One of the girls on his other side, a curvaceous Cantonese woman whose body was poured into a blue latex dress, picked up some spicy duck with a pair of chopsticks and slipped it into the Muay Thai kick-boxer's mouth.

"You must be sore after that," said the woman in the blue dress. "When we're done here, how about I give you a massage?"

"No fair!" Said another woman to the right of Blue Dress, this one blond and dressed in a very form-fitting peach-colored Cheongsam. "I wanna massage him!"

"Ladies, ladies," Joe said, waving his hands at them. "I'm equal opportunity. You can each give me a massage!"

Unfortunately, his words were lost on them, as the three woman started to argue even louder. Joe rolled his eyes, and wondered if he should say anything else. He loved a good cat-fight, but after what happened to that restaurant following his previous match in Malaysia, his manager was threatening to quit.

His gaze moved absently to the window as he tried to figure out what he should do. There was very little pedestrian traffic outside at this time of night, only a dark-haired man impeccably dressed in a black suit, tie, and sunglasses.

Who the hell would be wearing sunglasses after dark? Joe thought to himself. By chance, the man happened to glance into the window of the restaurant. For a split second, his eyes, concealed by the dark glasses, met Joe's brown eyes... and then to Joe's surprise the man did a double take and ran.

Funny, Joe thought. Most people who recognize me usually run towards me, for an autograph. Then Joe remembered that there were only two people he'd ever met who never took off their shades.

He sat up suddenly, breaking apart two of the women who looked ready to start scratching. "Joe?" Asked the blond woman. "Don't tell me we're actually scaring you off. I thought you liked cat-fights."

"Um, I do," said Joe. "I just spotted a fan outside who wants an autograph. Be right back!" He leaped clean over the table, and a few seconds later was out the door.

Once outside, he glanced both ways up and down the street, and saw nothing, but his ears picked up receding footsteps to his right. He turned and raced that way, footfalls smacking loudly against the damp concrete. When he got to the street corner, he saw the blur of black movement against the neon window signs, again to his right. He ran to the source and came to the entrance to an alleyway, but when he glanced down it he saw nothing.

Joe blew out a breath and ran a hand through his dark hair. He wasn't entirely sure that had been Hopper (or Ripper, Joe could never tell them apart), but if it had been, what were they doing in Hong Kong? Had they finally found a new employer?

"Can I have one fight anymore where some mood-killer doesn't happen afterwards?" Joe Higashi said out loud. He then turned and started back towards the restaurant. "I just hope the girls didn't leave without me." He'd return his attention to the festivities for now, but he would try to file this away in the back of his mind. It might be something one of the Bogards would want to know about.

Unknown Location

On a cliff overlooking a wooded valley, a lean yet well-muscled figure dressed in faded jeans, a sleeveless shirt emblazoned with the Union Jack, and a red bandanna tied around his head sat on the cliff's edge, gazing intently at the trees below. Billy Kane sat with his bo staff balanced across his thighs, and shivered a little in the morning chill. The sun was still rising, and had not yet beaten back the cold of last night, partially shrouding the valley below him in a mist.

Billy reached over to the thermos by his side, poured himself some coffee, sipped gratefully at the steaming black liquid... and waited. It had almost become like a game to him, seeing how many trees would fall today, compared to yesterday. In truth, he treated it like a game to control the growing sense of unease he'd felt ever since that day when he'd been caught just on the edge of Geese Howard's technique. Geese's power had grown since Terry Bogard had scarred his chest, and somehow continued to grow.

After that day, Billy had learned not only to never interrupt the boss's exercise again, but also to watch it from a safer distance. As he looked down at the trees, he saw a faint light through the fog, the deep green glow of negative chi being focused, followed by a crackle. "Three..." He whispered softly. "Two... one... liftoff."

As he spoke the word "liftoff," he heard a faint cry of "Raging Storm!" echo up from the valley, followed by a funnel of energy that radiated out from a central point below the tree canopy and shot upwards, blasting the trees in every direction. When the energy cleared, Billy saw a small shadow standing in a hollowed-out crater, a crater surrounded on all sides by tree trunks that had fallen on their sides.

"Hm, 'bout the same size as yesterday," Billy mused out loud. "But bigger than the day before." He was talking to himself only to mask his nervousness. Lately he had found himself beginning to wonder if anyone should be this powerful.

Whatever, he quickly thought. None a' my business. The bossman's not payin' me ta think, just ta walk softly an' carry a big stick.

Down below, there was another crackle, another flash of eldritch green light as Geese Howard focused the energy for another attack, but Billy had seen enough. He rose, and started back towards base camp with his staff slung over his shoulder.

After walking a short distance through the trees, Billy came to a small clearing with a tent, and a circle of smoldering embers from last night's fire. A black-haired man dressed in hiking boots, cargo pants, olive green jacket and sunglasses was seated by the fire, a small but ornate chest on his lap.

"Ripper," Billy said with a nod. "Have I ever told ya 'ow much I hate nature?"

"Only every time the boss orders us to meet him out here," Ripper replied.

"Well, he's not done exercisin' yet," said Billy. He pointed with his staff at the chest on Ripper's lap. "Wot's that? Another trinket fer 'is collection?"

"For his eyes only," Ripper said, moving both hands so they covered the box's lid.

Billy shouldered his staff again. "Like I care wot it is or wot he does with it. I'm only the muscle."

Ripper stood, the chest tucked under his arm. "Well, I'm gonna go watch the show."

"Knock yerself out," said Billy. "I've seen enough. Don't 'ave much of a a plot."

Ripper started off through the trees. After he was gone, Billy took the seat the dark-haired man had just vacated and once more laid his staff across his thighs.

"Billy boy," he mused to himself, once again out loud. "Yer lucky that yer dear ould mum ain't alive to see the fine mess you've gotten yerself into..."

To be continued...