Unbelievable.

Sakura launched a series of punches and kicks at the wooden practice dummy, which was threatening to lose its limbs from the young girl's rough treatment.

But her violent flurry of attacks hardly sufficed to express her ire at having been knocked out of the third Street Fighter tournament in the preliminaries.

She developed a rhythm now, her attacks flowing naturally from her. Sakura had seen Dan's hisshou burai ken, or as she translated, "Certain Victory Hurting Nobody But Myself Fist," and wasn't too impressed. If she didn't want to look like a joke, she must perform the move more gracefully.

Still, the memory of her disgrace haunted her.

Disqualified!

Sakura growled as she gave the wooden dummy a kick that would have ensured that no little wooden dummies came to take revenge, if wooden dummies actually reproduced that way.

Even her spiteful kick reminded her of the judge's ruling: Illegal strike zone.

Sakura didn't mean to aim her fireball at her opponent's groin area! It wasn't exactly her fault that Hugo was eight feet tall and thus twice her height, not to mention at least five times her ninety pounds.

It was a Street Fighter tournament after all! Full contact kumite. Compared to the unorthodox Alpha tournaments in which Sakura competed, however, the third Street Fighter tournament was weighed down by too many pointless rules and regulations.

Like groin strikes, for instance.

Sighing, Sakura laid off experimenting with her Midare Zakura and went back to practice her modified Hadou-ken. She knew the dangers of training by herself. Others had gone astray without the guidance of a sensei. Dan, for instance, had never completed even basic training under Master Gouken, the now-legendary sensei of Ryu and Ken. As a result, Dan had suffered not only from a complete lack of style, but also stunted development in internal kung. Then there was also Sean, whom Sakura had seen shadowing Ken's footsteps like a hound dog. Sakura only hoped that she did not look as foolish following Ryu around.

Focusing, drawing air in deep breaths to gather the necessary chi, Sakura found her thoughts wandering to her would-be sensei, Ryu. She always had trouble meditating, and the World Warrior's face was the culprit each time.

Trying to block out his image, she nevertheless remembered that her disappointment at having been disqualified was quickly replaced by joy at seeing her idol. Perhaps they would fight a friendly match. Perhaps, after seeing how she had improved over the years, Ryu would consent to training her in the proper way of Shotokan. Perhaps he would…but even a dreamy schoolgirl felt that last wish wildly ludicrous.

But instead, he had laughed! Had called her hadou-ken a sneaky attack, and had asked whether she was taking lessons in private from Ken.

Certainly Ryu had been all good-natured teasing, but fury and frustration welled up from within Sakura at the memory. He still thinks I'm a CHILD!

Releasing her chi diagonally-upwards, Sakura found that she retained her footing far better than she had performing the classical, horizontal hadou-ken.

Thus it was the dummy's head that gave way, blasted to shreds by the rending force of Sakura's angry and blazing chi.

"Impressive," said someone behind her in a soft, yet deep, resonant voice.

Sakura turned around, ready to defend herself, when she saw her audience, and froze.

"Your rage has allowed you to surpass the limits that have restrained many." The man stood with his arms crossed, facing Sakura. His black gi was tattered, like that of most Street Fighters, but more so--in fact, the edges looked as if they had been burned. One did not have to look far to find the source of that fire. The man, if one can call him such, was dark-skinned and incredibly-muscular--tanned not by sunlight but from hell's fires, it seemed. And the blazing red eyes were windows into the hellish furnace of his soul.

"Wh-who are you?" Sakura had never met this person, had not even heard rumors of his existence, for she had been single-minded in her pursuit of Ryu during the Alpha tournaments and had not entered the Street Fighter scene for quite some time.

"I am the last practitioner of the True Shotokan art," he replied.

"I thought that was Ryu."

The man sneered at the name.

"Ryu would have been a great warrior, but he has no guts," the dark man scoffed. "You want a teacher, a sensei, someone to show you the true way. I know that you fear you would be led astray training on your own. Ryu does not teach you because he is afraid of you, afraid of himself! I am here to teach you to use that rage within you."

Startled that the mysterious, forbidding man knew her thoughts so well, Sakura hesitated. But she could not deny the temptation of what he offered. If what this man said was true, if he was a Master of the Shotokan way, Sakura would be a fool to pass this up! She thought once again of Dan, of Sean. She thought of Ryu. This is my chance to prove myself!

She fell to her knees and kneeled before her new master.