Retribution

Round 1

A tall, dark haired young man stood amongst overgrown dead green weeds and dilapidated wilting flowers; neglected and uncared for in recent times. He surveyed the sorrowful scene: a rusty metal barrier fencing the area off from the noisy main road next to it; a decrepit, abandoned caretaker hut with broken splintered planks sticking out at seemingly random angles, and broken windows from where vandals had pointlessly thrown bricks through; and rows upon rows of unvisited, forgotten graves with chipped, cracked headstones.

He walked slowly along one of the rows, a pair of fresh white lilies in his hand; a stark contrast with the shadowy gloominess of the graveyard. The wind howled vociferously, apparently wanting to worsen the man’s already depressed mood, rattling the unstable metal fencing and causing the wood from the rickety hut to clatter loudly.

The man stopped at a gravestone about three quarters of the way along one of the middle rows and knelt down before softly putting his hands together in prayer, bowing his head. His words were very quiet, and would have been indecipherable to even the closest and most attentive listener. At length he finished the prayer, raising his head to look at the gravestone, as if it symbolised the one he mourned for.

“I’m sorry” he said tenderly, a real tone of passion and remorse in his voice. He gently laid down the flowers and climbed back to his feet, taking a moment to say goodbye. A salty tear slowly drifted slowly down his shadowed face; one that stung with remorse, pain, and anguish.

The tombstone read ‘Rukai, beloved brother and son.’

As the man walked off, he muttered, partially to himself, partially to Rukai, “Forgive me brother; I have to break my vow. I have to fight again. I will be competing in the World Tournament in 2 days time. I’m sorry.”

****

“Ladies and Gentlemen welcome to the World Tournament!” the announcer boomed, his voice echoing around the huge all-seater stadium. “The draw has just taken place, and this year’s contenders promise to be among the most powerful ever! If you just divert your attention towards the big screen, then the drawing will be shown…” With this, the blonde haired sunglass-clad announcer waved his hand enthusiastically, pointing to a large screen mounted above the north stand. On it was a diagram detailing the draw for the first round of the competition. The line-up of matches was as follows:

Hanashi vs Yamcha     

Krillen vs Taisho

Goku vs Ikunara

MitsuShinu vs Tien Shinhan

“Four old favourites have qualified for the finals this year, with both the former and the reigning champion among the ranks. Goku and Tien Shinhan are the fighters to watch, and in my humble opinion, it will be one of them who will become the world champion!” With that the crowd went ecstatic, cheering wildly, complimented with the occasional whistle. “And now it is time for the first match! The young Hanashi against an experienced three time competitor: Yamcha!”

The two competitors walked slowly out of the backstage area, and along the aisle towards the square ring. Yamcha strode confidently, absorbing the crowd’s cheers and blowing kisses to his female fans. He wore a red GI, and had his dark hair spiked up.

Yamcha’s opponent walked alongside him, losing ground in terms of height but having roughly the same muscular build. His facial features were slightly less mature, showing his younger age. He had a gentle, friendly face, and his short jet black hair was spiked in a just-got-out-of-bed style. Similarities could be made between the young contender and Yamcha in terms of appearance, but there was a very notable contrast in terms of manner. Hanashi had beads of nervous sweat materialising on his brow, and he was taking very deep breaths to try to calm his pounding heart.

“Hey, relax kid! Just have fun!” Yamcha said pleasantly, noticing the obvious nerves of his opponent. Hanashi forced a smile, and gave an affirmative nod

“The rules of this contest are: The loser is the first to be knocked unconscious or land on the floor outside the ring. Now without any further delay, let’s begin!” The announcer swung his arm down to signify the beginning of the contest, before retreating to ringside to spectate.

The two fighters got into the stance of their favoured martial art, and stared at one another briefly with penetrating eyes. Taking the initiative, Yamcha surged forward and connected with a ferocious hook across the side of Hanashi’s jaw, sending the youth staggering backwards. Capitalising on his advantage, the experienced contender delivered a powerful roundhouse kick, slamming forcefully into the chest of his opponent, and knocking him skimming across the floor.

“And we could have a knockout already folks!” the announcer roared excitedly. “10…9…oh, he’s up! Hanashi isn’t going to be defeated that easily! It appears he’s more resilient than I gave him credit for!”

Indeed, Hanashi was getting up to his feet, breathing heavily, rubbing his chest in pain. He stretched his neck before cracking his knuckles one by one. “Try that again.”

Yamcha smirked at the fighting spirit of this young man. He ran in towards Hanashi for a second time and swung his fist just as before, but this time he hit only air, being evaded by the ducking youngster. In an effort to counter-act his mistake, Yamcha attempted to sweep the legs of the spirited competitor, but was once again off-target as Hanashi leapt gracefully over the attack. As the agile teenager came back down, he landed a crippling elbow on the top of Yamcha’s head, sending him face-first into the cold stone floor of the ring. Before Yamcha had any time to react, Hanashi kicked him fiercely in the gut, sending him rolling across the ring, coming to a halt mere inches from the edge.

“What a combination of attacks from Hanashi! At only 16 this competitor may have the potential to match the achievements of contenders like the great Jackie Chun in future years!” As if to echo the announcer’s thoughts, the crowd were cheering emphatically at the exciting display in the ring, with the majority of them chanting Hanashi’s name heartily.

The young contender was now a different man to the one who originally walked along the aisle. The pre-match nerves had been overtaken by pure adrenaline and the anxiety had been replaced by a remarkable coolness. Knowing that the match was not over, Hanashi sprinted towards his recovering opponent who by now had groggily gotten back up to his feet. Yamcha looked up just in time to see the charging figure, and barely managed to cross his arms across his chest to block the incoming knee swung vehemently towards him. The sheer force of the blow was enough to knock him off balance however, and as he staggered backwards he was struck by a ruthless uppercut on the chin, sending him soaring through the air, landing on the soft grass outside the ring.

“Ring out! In an amazing upset Hanashi has defeated Yamcha, one of the best fighters on Earth!”

The crowd went temporarily silent, taken back, amazed at the youngster’s power. Within moments though, a supportive roar ensued with the audience jumping up and down and waving their arms about excitedly.

Yamcha lifted himself back up onto the ring, and walked towards Hanashi, a slight painful limp in his step. He extended his hand, with it being met in the middle, the two competitors embracing one another’s gutsy performance.

“Way to go kid, you were awesome!” Yamcha exclaimed. “How come I’ve never seen you in one of these tournaments before?”

“Don’t know, didn’t really realise it was a big thing to be honest. We live in the country, so we’re quite secluded, and Dad only found out about it a couple of months back. We’ve been training really hard since,” lied Hanashi, creating a very viable alibi to mask his real reason for entering out of the blue.

“Well best of luck to you. Keep fighting like that and you’ve got a good chance of making the final. Make sure you study the next match though, you could learn a lot about your opponent.”

“Thanks, but I already know more than enough about Taisho.”

“Heh, what makes you so sure he’ll beat Krillen?” Yamcha responded, smirking.

“He’ll win. Trust me,” Hanashi replied sharply before turning and walking off, leaving his surprised opponent standing in the middle of the ring looking confused.

Hanashi walked into his locker room and sat down on a bench, deep in thought. The adrenaline was starting to wear off, as he slowly calmed down from his first fight. He considered something his Dad had said to him earlier, the reason for his being in the tournament, ‘There’s a man who’s going to be there that I want to meet’. It had confused Hanashi, especially when his Dad had refused to let him abstain from the fighting, despite his best protests about being dragged into something that didn’t involve him. He’d finally been convinced to come after his father informed him that the prize money could improve Rukai’s grave. Hanashi had decided that he could transform it to do justice to make something that was so beautiful and kind in life be remembered and displayed in the same way throughout death.

He looked down at the drying blood on his knuckles and bowed his head in shame; this was one of the reasons why he hadn’t originally wanted to fight. It wasn’t the first time that it’d been there, and he had little doubt that it wouldn’t be the last time. He didn’t like it; it brought back memories, harsh recollections of past mistakes. He hated himself for each and every one of them, and would live in remorse for the rest of his life. But that couldn’t take away the pain, it only amplified it. Every day seemed to be worse than the last, constant reminders of what he had done, his crimes, his oppressions. He had changed into an entirely different person; his lack of morality having been converted into decency and integrity. Why then was he still haunted by his past?

His past …it had been 3 years since his brother’s death to this day, and the last thing that he wanted to do was to fight. He wanted to make his brother proud; to please him and make him look down from the heavens unashamed. He wanted to show him that he’d changed and wasn’t such a failure anymore. He’d gone through school and was just starting college with big aspirations of being a success after wasting the early years of his life so carelessly. He’d worked incredibly hard to catch up on all of the work he’d missed, surpassing any expectations by managing to gain reasonable grades even after missing the first 3 years.

The year after his brother’s death was the hardest one, he’d been stuck in a rut, unable to do anything except think and regret. It was through that year of thinking that he’d resolved to become a success, give up fighting, and make his brother proud.

Now though, he had to fight. Just this once, that’s all that was required, and that’s all that he’d do.

“Damn it!” Hanashi muttered angrily. He began pacing up and down the small room, before coming to a halt in front of the solitary locker he’d been provided with. “Damn it!” he repeated, slamming his fist into it with a tinny clang, denting the weak metal. “This tournament is for you bro…I won’t let you down again…”