I turned back to see,
But the man I passed was veiled
In mist already.
--Shiki

They were a most unusual sight: two well-muscled young men walking down the crowded New York street. One, a darkly-tanned, spike-haired kid with a punk attitude, was chewing gum and blowing bubbles, dribbling a basketball as he walked; the other, a cheerful man with long blond hair, was unconsciously flexing and flashing a smile at every pretty girl who walked by.

Well, that wasn't so unusual. The fact that they were both wearing tattered karate gis was.

"Hey, Sean, I think she likes you," said the blond as his companion tossed his basketball in the hair, shooting imaginary baskets.

"Huh? Who?" Sean looked around stupidly. The basketball bounced off his head, to be caught by the blond.

He sighed. "Forget it, Sean," and tossed the ball back to the kid.

Sean caught the ball and began dodging and dribbling around pedestrians again. "Master Ken, I can't believe your friend lives in a place like this. It's so crowded--how can he train with all this noise?"

Ken grimaced a bit at the title which his young friend used to address him. "Just call me 'Ken,' okay? You're not my student or anything, so there's no need to address me as 'Sensei.'" Sean attempted a crossover dribble that sent the basketball flying out of his hands and into a hot dog stand. The vendor threw the ball back at the would-be Tim Hardaway, cursing and suggesting that Sean place the ball in a more interesting, and much more painful, place.

Unphased, Sean grabbed the ball and said, "Thanks!" He shook his head, "I have to work on that." Turning back to Ken, he said, "You haven't accepted me, but that just means I have to work harder. Besides, I learn a lot just from watching you fight. So, in a way, you are my sensei. I tell that to everyone I fight, you know."

Ken, who was trying to distance himself a bit from Sean during the hot dog stand incident--impossible because the two of them were the only ones wearing gis, groaned and covered his face with his hands as he contemplated what the rumor that he trained the kid would do to his reputation. He firmly pushed that thought out of his mind and felt some relief at the fact that they had reached to temple to which his long-time rival and childhood friend, Ryu, after winning the third Street Fighter tournament, withdrew, to train. Let Sean take on a new idol and call Ryu his sensei, he thought.

"In here," he called to Sean, and led them through a splendid arched gate, into a beautiful, serene garden. Beyond was another, similar gate, through which a gazebo could be seen. To the left, behind an enormous gong, a magnificent temple stood, as if it had been there for the last three centuries. In fact, the temple was built but three decades ago, here in the suburbs of New York, though it was more of a shrine than an actual temple. Oblivious to the peacefulness of the garden, Sean continued yo-yoing his basketball up and down. "So why are you bringing me to Master Ryu, anyway? What could I learn from him that I can't from you?"

How to be a little more inconspicuous, thought Ken, nodding politely to the glowering monks who were disturbed from their prayer.

Instead, he replied, "Of all the Shotokan warriors today, Ryu's form is the purest and closest to that of the old masters. It's important that you learn the style properly, like Ryu and I did. You don't want to end up like Dan, do you?"

Sean's eyebrows met in an angry line and his face scrunched up, but he relaxed and said, "Okay, I'll take a look at Master Ryu, since we're here. Where is he anyway?" The ball slipped from his hands again and hit the gong. A dull ringing sound filled the garden and the temple. Several monks came up to them, ready to escort them from the temple grounds, when a strong baritone voice called out.

"Ken! My friend!" Ryu came forward to embrace him, a display of emotion not often evinced by the otherwise grim young man. The monks moved aside, respectful of the reunion, though they still cast very unfriendly looks at Sean.

Despite his earlier harangue, Sean tried to show proper respect for his senior--Ryu had won three Street Fighter tournaments, after all! However, "proper respect" seemed to involve standing still and tucking his basketball under an arm while blowing a bubble. A grand display of self-restraint, to be sure, from Sean.

Ryu noticed the kid and looked at Ken in askance, "Your student?"

"Actually, no; I was thinking that he could be yours. This is Sean. He sought me out after he saw me fight in Brazil during the second Street Fighter tournament. He wants to learn the Shotokan way. Sean, this is my friend Ryu."

Ryu made a slight bow, while Sean gave him a thumbs-up and greeted him, "Wassup?"

"Do you know the meaning of fight, young warrior?"

Sean blinked as the bubble he was blowing popped and splattered on his cheek. "The meaning? Like as in definition? Yeah, sure, I guess."

"Then show me."

Ryu took a slightly open stance, relaxed--not exactly a fighting stance, almost casual, in fact, but coupled with his words, his intent seemed clear.

Sean blinked again, then with a sudden eagerness, tossed aside his basketball and assumed a fighting position, fists up and ready.

But Ryu just looked at him, waiting, wordless, apparently not having noticed.

The Brazilian boy looked at Ken, to ask him if he was supposed to do something, when he felt, rather than saw, a sudden gathering of energy in front of him. He moved his arms up instinctively to block, just as Ryu's hadou-ken slammed into him, bruising his forearms.

"Hey--!" Sean made as if to attack, but Ryu had settled back into his casual stance, seeming not to have moved at all.

"Were you trying to test my reflexes or wha--!?" Sean quickly ducked as Ryu flew over him, legs flailing. The boy rolled and came up suddenly, banging his head against the gong.

"Ow! That wasn't fair! No one said 'Fight!' like they do in the tournament!"

Ryu smiled slightly, "You cannot say that you were not prepared. You saw me attack you once, and yet you did nothing. I am your enemy now, Sean."

Sean picked himself up, moving with exagerrated slowness, then spun and propelled himself into the air.

"Torna-do!"

Ryu's eyes widened, not in surprise at Sean's "surprise" attack, but in recognition, as Sean's kicks took an almost lopsided path to their target, not at all like Ryu's graceful hurricane kick. But the veteran moved aside and watched the boy fly past. Sean landed and launched another unorthodox assault, sliding forward on the ground, making as if to tackle Ryu. Though Ryu had never seen football in his life, he had an idea of what his opponent was trying to do, and stepped quickly over the diving boy.

Ryu dodged, ducked, and side-stepped as Sean gave an exhibition of his techniques--all faintly familiar to the Shotokan master, yet all distorted mockeries of the Shotokan art.

He jumped back and held up his hand. "That is quite enough. We should not fight in the temple any more than necessary." Sean stopped and bent down, placing his hands on his knees, catching his breath. "Well, what do you think?" he asked. "How are my techniques? I copied them all from Master Ken! Pretty cool, huh?"

Ryu glanced at Ken, to see his friend pointing at himself and shaking his head with a "Don't look at me" expression on his face. Before Sean could follow his gaze, Ryu looked back at him, "Not bad. I was wondering, though, why you blocked my hadou-ken instead of countering."

Sean looked at his forearms, which were red where the hadou-ken had pummeled it. "It's hard for me to summon that energy. It doesn't go very far either," he admitted.

Ryu raised his eyebrows, "Your techniques remind me so much of--" He was about to say, "Dan," and somehow, from the rapidly furrowing brow of Sean and Ken's smirk, Ryu realized that the boy did not like the comparison. "Of Ken," he finished, "when he was your age. You do him proud."

"Really?" Sean seemed quite happy to be compared to his idol. Ken's smirk, however, was quickly replaced by a frown. He didn't like the suggestion one bit.

"What was sensei like? I heard you two were the best!" Sean was eager for more tidbits about his idol.

"I remember our first Street Fighter tournament. We were both very full of ourselves. No one could defeat us, but we were equals. Ken, however, was too busy charming the women to pay much attention to the fight," Ryu reminesced.

"And you beat Sagat!"

"Yes," Ryu's lips tightened into a line, "though it was a hard match. Sagat was so swift in his attack that he stunned me, and his Tiger Shots were unbelievably fast. He scored the first knockdown--I was on the mat so fast I did not know what hit me. I scored the next, though we were both ready to collapse by then."

"But you defeated him with the shoryuken and scarred his chest!" Sean made to imitate Ryu, though the result was anything but a shoryuken. "And he became your most hated enemy ever since."

"He became my enemy, yes, my rival. But there were others--among them Ken," Ryu clarified, "and we all surpassed ourselves in skill and technique because of that rivalry."

He turned suddenly to Sean, "And so, you realize that your enemy becomes your teacher. The people from whom you learn the most are worthy opponents. You wanted me to teach you, yet there is much I have to learn, myself. I cannot teach you as Gouken taught Ken and me. I do not have his wisdom. You are not the first to think that I hold the answers. In a way, I do. In my search, in seeking the meaning of 'fight.' That is your teacher. And I will be happy to spar with you whenever you think you are ready. I welcome challenges from all great fighters."

Sean was ready to respond, but the air around them suddenly seemed to shimmer. An eerie silence, even greater than the quiet of temple, seemed to scream at them.

Then, abruptly, the temple was gone.

Or perhaps they were.

But the world reappeared as suddenly as it had vanished.

Or, rather, a world.

But not theirs.

"I accept your challenge, little warrior! Welcome to my tournament! Elimination is determined by--elimination! Hahaha!"