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Drowning sorrows in alcohol was a popular thing to do in the city of Southtown, possibly even superseding baseball as The Great American Pastime there, with the best and worst of people not being immune to the desire to celebrate their victories or suppress their lows with liquor.
…Somewhere in the middle of said people was Ryo Sakazaki.
The Kyokugen practitioner and instructor was a man of virtue and principle, but maybe to a detrimental extent. However, the temptation of the bottle had claimed him on this particular Saturday night, and he found himself and his best friend, Robert, not at their usual hangout of the Pao Pao Café, but at a smaller, more out-of-the-way joint. Such a decision usually meant he wasn't feeling very sociable.
"These are good. Keep 'em comin'," Ryo clumsily requested while gesturing to the bartender to slip him yet another serving of an Imperial Stout with a pretty high ABV. His drink count hadn't reached double digits yet, but it was quickly approaching that threshold, and at the rate he was going, he was surely going to break beyond it in no time.
"You're really throwing them back tonight," Robert, who was indulging in a simple longneck (a Bud Light, which one could never go wrong with), observed from the stool beside him, concerned about the extent to which his friend was partaking. The martial artist was a large man whose tolerance ran with it… but even he had his breaking point.
And that was why Robert's statement seemingly went unacknowledged by Ryo, who had been at it for half an hour now: drinking, but perhaps not even tasting it. If nothing else, he was simply performing the mechanical function of lifting his arm, letting the liquid contents down his throat, and setting the empty bottle down, only to beckon for another. His body acted, yet his mind was, perhaps, nowhere to be found.
"Bro? You know, you could at least respond," Robert urged.
"...Do you remember that King of Fighters tournament?"
Ryo's first actual words of the evening made Robert jump slightly from the spontaneous engagement. It seemed his companion was there after all. Brow quirked, he wordlessly gestured for him to go on, which he did:
"The first one. The big one."
Robert didn't know quite how to respond, so he simply chuckled.
"That's like asking me if I remember how to breathe, man."
Ryo nodded more times than necessary, his head bobbing rather weirdly — an indicator that the alcohol had definitely kicked in.
"I think about it a lot lately. A lot a lot," he said.
"Probably the craziest tourney of our lives," Robert mused. "There's really never been anything like it since."
"Yeah… 'lotta memories there. 'Lotta stiff competition… and by 'stiff,' I mean 'shitty.'"
"You're telling me. Some of those guys… seeing them again at a tournament after everything that happened on the streets was —"
"Before I made the final two… do you remember who I had to face?" Ryo abruptly interrupted.
At this point, it was clear that the young man had intentionally led Robert with these questions and was now trying to obtain a very specific answer. Obviously, he wanted to hear whatever he was getting at vocalized.
"I'm not… really sure what you're getting at, man…"
"No… you do. Go ahead. Say it."
Ryo's attitude had taken a cold, grim turn, and his voice was almost devoid of any feeling or vibrancy.
"Dude, do we seriously have to talk about this?"
"Fine —" Ryo slapped his palm against the table — "You don't wanna say his name? I will. Mr. Big."
"Ryo —"
"Here, I'll say it again! Mr. Big. Mr. Big. Mr. Big. Mr…. fucking Big…!"
Robert was struck silent as he promptly decided to give up on trying to understand or reason with his friend's decision to bring up the man who had quite literally changed — and even tried to end — their lives. A man synonymous with pure, unyielding hatred and vile, dark emotions that one would pray never manifested physically. Robert would sooner vomit than give his name a meaningful utterance.
"Yeah, so?" He asked. "What about him? You beat him, plain and simple."
Ryo let out a drunken snicker that turned into outright laughter before continuing.
"I beat him, alright! Beat him like a drum — like congos. Made 'im my bitch! Ohhhhh Biggy Biggy Biggy Biggy…!"
"C'mon man," Robert told Ryo. "That's enough."
He swiftly tried to reach for the bottle in his companion's hand but was unsuccessful; the remainder of its contents were downed before it was forcefully slammed onto the counter.
"I remember it like it was yesterday," Ryo declared, his voice slightly louder. "I replay the fight in my head, down to the last bloody, gory detail. Every kick I threw, every punch I connected… it's burned in my memory."
Robert started to open his mouth to respond, but Ryo beat him to it, a somewhat far-off look in his slightly glassy eyes.
"Like yesterday," he reiterated as he began recounting the events of that fateful battle against the mafia boss...
They were screaming his name on the sidelines.
The invigorated masses had gathered for this decisive bout in the King of Fighters tournament and had produced a spirited chant of his name. Like rapid-fire shots, they spilled out: "RYO! RYO! RYO! RYO! RYO!"
He tried to drown it out, though. It was acceptable before, but not now.
Definitely not now.
This was no longer some bustling, festive hootenanny of a sports event — this was something else entirely.
He tensed up as his opponent's next move came.
The bald asshole, who wore a tacky pimp coat, combat-rolled forward and swung with a looping left, his weapon of choice — a sturdy rattan stick — swooping towards Ryo's midsection. The Kyokugen master didn't try to dodge it, though; he allowed himself to take the hit purely so he could rush forward and put a one-two into the asshole's cocky, repulsive face. The right connected, but the recoil caused the left to swerve wide, and Ryo managed to salvage the combo only by topping it off with a teep kick to the asshole's chest.
As they stood there, Ryo, now nursing his injured midsection, took a moment to really process the gravity of this moment, most notably, of course, the man before him. Even now, at this point, he was standing tall, his posture arrogant, his sunglasses shimmering, and a disgusting grin on his lips. It was plain to see that he was proud of the pain he'd inflicted, not just on Ryo, but on his entire family.
Mr. Big.
Sworn nemesis and hated human being; a truly terrible person… and the only one standing in the way of Ryo Sakazaki's victory in the Art of Fighting bracket of the King of Fighters tournament. It wasn't like such things even mattered now, though. It was so much more…. After everything, a mere competition fell by the wayside.
Ryo had beaten Big before — him and Robert, together — to save Yuri. But something about this sanctioned, one-on-one bout in front of the viewing world felt more personal. It felt like a legitimate chance to do what he had wanted for a long time… and properly.
The fight was not a friendly engagement, no. It was payback. It was punishment.
It was… justice.
At that moment, Mr. Big lunged into a spin, breaking Ryo out of his thoughts. He came around with a wide backhand, and the Karate practitioner could only sway his head to barely avoid the right stick. The left, however, came afterward and struck him on the bicep. He grunted, feeling a sharp tingle through his left arm, followed by numbness. It would probably affect his swing… but he didn't care. He'd find a way to pummel Big even if all his limbs were broken.
Ryo led with a front kick then, which bounced off Big's raised sticks, so he tried to pump a sharp hook to the other man's liver. Unfortunately, Big's defense still proved impeccable as he deflected Ryo's knuckles with solid bamboo and gave him a fierce jab to the face as payment. The edge of the stick struck just underneath Ryo's eye, and within seconds, he felt swelling start to set in. Before he could even blink it out, Big started his next assault: Combining his sticks into one long weapon, he spun around, jabbing the end into Ryo's stomach. He expelled harsh air, folding over, and Big reversed direction, coming back the other way as the end of the stick flew across his jaw.
Immediately, Ryo Sakazaki hit the dirt, which made Big laugh. It was a terrible sound that made the young man want more than anything to hop back up and maybe even tear out his adversary's vocal cords.
"What's the matter? I thought you've been wanting this… haven't you?" Big taunted as he stood proud and pompous. "So have I, Sakazaki… so have I. Truth be told, I never get enough of getting to do this. To you. To them."
…"THEM?!"
Ryo felt his fists violently clench, taking handfuls of dirt with them.
"You know… your sister put up more of a fight back then than you are right now."
Angry breaths blazed from Ryo's lungs as he worked his way back up.
"You know, when we took her? She kicked one of my guys right in the face and broke his nose. That's a cleaner hit than you've landed on me this entire fight. How embarrassing is that?"
A single, vengeful fist pounded the ground, and Big tilted his head as he watched the clearly exhausted Ryo get back into his fighting stance. His breaths were labored, his footing shaky… but his eyes bore a fire that would not be denied.
"Big… you're never not gonna have this coming..."
Although he was angered by Big's words, Ryo knew he needed to focus on winning the fight, not just for his own honour, but his family's, too. With that in mind, he steadied his breathing and renewed his focus, first on Mr. Big's movement and then on the weapons in his hands. The crime lord lunged toward Ryo and made to strike, but the Kyokugen practitioner parried what would have been a nasty blow to his solar plexus and followed up with a fierce uppercut that sent Big reeling. He recovered quickly, however, and wiped a bit of blood from the corner of his mouth before moving forward. He attempted to strike with both sticks simultaneously, but he was slightly too far away; he missed by a mile, giving Ryo the opening he needed.
Quickly, the young man hopped toward Big and struck him with a two-hit flying kick that caused him to clumsily stumble backward.
It was now or never!
A fine red mist sprayed from Big's mouth as he spat his next words. "YOU CAN'T BEAT ME, SAKAZAKI! YOU AND YOUR ENTIRE FAMILY ARE A BUNCH OF TWO-BIT MAGGOTS! YOU'LL NEVER WIN AGAINST ME! NEVER !"
The enraged kingpin abandoned all sense of discipline and combined his sticks, twirling the now-longer staff and rushing toward the resurging Sakazaki head on…
…which would prove to be his final mistake.
"Kyokugen-ryuu Ougi!"
Ryo dashed straight in front of Mr. Big and hit him with a simple but hard punch to the face. From there, he continued to bombard him with a flurry of punches and kicks that were strung into one long, painful combination attack.
The final blow of the vicious assault sent Big flying; he landed hard before skidding back just a bit. For a second he didn't move, but then, he suddenly sprang up… or tried, anyway, as he could barely even lift his head. Ryo, meanwhile, was energized, powered by adrenaline and his hatred toward Big; he moved forward to stand over his enemy, who was looking up at him through broken sunglasses.
"You… son of a bi —"
Big never finished his sentence because Ryo stooped down and swiftly struck with a brutal knockout punch.
"That was for Yuri."
"What?" Robert asked with a quirked brow.
Ryo's voice mellowed out and became solemn.
"The last words… 'That was for Yuri'."
Robert had been lost in the tale, trying to vividly recapture the same image of Ryo's fated battle with their enemy. It was a snap back to reality when his companion finally moved past the violent details.
"I remember…. being so smug about it," Ryo sardonically chuckled. "So proud of myself. I beat the bad guy. I avenged Yuri — and maybe even my mom to some extent. Saved the day. Righted all the wrongs, right there, in front of that crowd. That was the end of the story: we all live happily ever after. Yet… there never was a happily ever after, huh? Not with him still out there… to… to scheme… and find different ways to hurt people close to us…"
What this was all about was finally starting to click in Robert's head. What took nearly an hour of deciphering now felt stupidly obvious. Ryo's stream-of-consciousness train of thought was leading up to… that… wasn't it?
There was little else it could have been — especially after recent events.
"Dude…"
Robert extended a comforting hand to his friend's back as Ryo's own weakly inched towards another full bottle the bartender had dropped off, but this time, it fell short.
"If I had known that everything that happened was going to happen —"
"No, don't," Robert interrupted — or tried, anyway, as Ryo spoke over him in a loud, aggressive tone: "If I could go back in a machine to that very day, knowing what I know now… It would have been ten times worse. I wouldn't have stopped."
"Bro —"
"I would have beaten him so fucking bad… I think I'd have even beaten him to death, Rob."
"Stop it, dude — just stop it."
Robert fiercely squeezed where his hand was resting. He could feel Ryo's harsh pants, his body rising and falling with each ferocious word spat.
"I'd give anything. Anything! I'd give the clothes off my back to just go back to that day and…!"
All at once, it left him: the hot air, the bravado, the need for vengeance. With a sigh and his head slumping toward the table, Ryo Sakazaki appeared to finally be spent. So Robert did what only a good friend could: he carefully scooted the alcoholic temptation away and softly rubbed his friend's — no, brother's — shoulder as he recuperated.
"Hindsight's a bitch, man. Hindsight's a bitch," he gently consoled.
"Rob… how did I let things get this fuuuuuuuuuuuuucked up?"
"What do you mean, 'you'?"
"I mean me. All this shit's happened, and I feel like I can't even look at or talk to Céc, because of what's happened, and what she's done, and what I've done, and…"
Ryo sighed again; a long, bodily sigh.
"I've lost my friend."
"No you haven't," Robert softly disagreed.
"Everything is just fucked," Ryo weakly lamented. "I don't have the first clue how to make things right. There's just no… no button to press, no switch to flip, no words to say, no villain to defeat… just nothing that can put things back to the way they were. I haven't been able to stop thinking about our talk the other day…"
Robert frowned.
"Well, first of all, getting lost in the sauce every time there's a rhetorical question isn't the answer. That's only gonna fuck things up more," he started. "Secondly, you're not God. You can't go back in time, and you can't snap your fingers and make it all go away. What's happened has happened. With all the pain, guilt, and resentment that comes with it. There's no taking any of it back."
Ryo sighed yet again, so Robert went on.
"And frankly… I have a feeling the more you'd try to 'fix' things, the worse you'd make it."
"Gee, thanks. Knew I could count on you."
Ryo's response was as deadpan as could be.
"You can! And that's why I'm telling you it's not your fucken place, man —" Robert slapped Ryo's back — "that's all I'm saying. I mean… listen to yourself. Do you really think Céc would want what you were just talking about?"
Ryo threw his hands up and made a frustrated noise.
"I just wanna —"
"Well, just keep wanting, dude," Robert cut him off. "I don't know how else to say it, but you gotta quit… doing whatever this is. Let it go. You're just gonna hurt yourself, and more importantly, you're gonna hurt Céc — more than you already have."
"So I just do nothing, is that it?!"
"That's exactly what you do: nothing. She's obviously in a better place now, and she got there without our help. She doesn't need a white knight, Ryo — never has, and even then, that's not even you in the first place. But what she does need is for you to cool it with this repressed Man Pain and toxic masculinity shit and maybe filter your thoughts a bit; not be so insensitive all the time, and especially not about her choices. Honest, yes. Insensitive, no."
"How have I been —?!"
"For real?! You've told her some pretty messed up things — even before… that… happened to her. Friends are supposed to be direct and honest with each other, yeah, but some of the words that come out of your mouth… They're judgy, even if you don't mean them to be. You just gotta think before you speak. Now c'mon — let's call it a night."
Robert did his brotherly duty then, sturdily lifting his massive friend off the stool while attempting to control his large frame as he paid the tab and headed for the exit. He couldn't stop Ryo from bemoaning the hopelessness of the current state of affairs any more than he had the power to change things himself, but at the very least, he could end the sorrow-soaked tonight.
"She hates me, Rob," Ryo slurred out of nowhere.
"She doesn't hate you," Robert sighed with a nicely-timed roll of his eyes. "But, sometimes…? Sometimes she just needs you to shut the fuck up."