Description: A newcomer to the fighting circuit comes to Masters Stadium, and finds a kindred spirit in a famous face.
Marketing events, sign-up drives, exhibition matches, a murderous demon... it's been a busy week at Masters Stadium. What's most publicly visible, of course, is the Neo League itself and the launch of the high-budgeted Neo Development Project, bringing in a veritable slew of up and comers to fill Ken's wallet with DVD sales. ... and master the arts of mysticism and combat and such, of course. It's really all about growing as fighters.
Whatever corporate cynicism may exist, for one man it /is/ all about growing as a fighter. It's what he loves, it's what he does. Right now, Ryu does this back in Seattle. Specifically, in the expansive, spared-no-expense gym open to fighters registered for Ken's various enterprises. The Ansatsuken master currently stands in a space rather off by himself, executing his moves in what appears to be slow motion, honed muscles holding each step of each kick and punch with rather pronounced, practiced grace. A few of the fighters recently signed up linger nearby, arguing with one another in hushed whispers and occasionally glancing over at the vagabond in the slightly tattered, pure white gi.
Frank himself had been late to that particular party, and didn't see the debut of Akuma made known. But here he was now, lumbering in the place at his six foot nine, three hundred and eight pound frame reminding many of a gorilla, the way his large, sculpted arms would sway as he swaggered, it wasn't the gait of a man trying to put himself over as tough, but rather the natural habit honed by years and years of habit. He was adorned in a simple white wifebeater, and a rough, faded pair of jeans, slightly torn around one knee from Frank's recent rough'n'tumble lifestyle. To top it off, a dock worker's cap adorned his head, 'hiding' his eyes beneath shadow, but still making their unwavering, unblinking stare made known. He walked, and stopped, seeing Ryu slowly, and silently study his own craft.
The big man stopped and stared along with everyone else, not saying anything, but not interrupting. But he didn't seem as 'wary' as the others, more avid studying, because, if this was who Frank thought it was, then...
Much to his own chagrin, Ryu arrived too late to intercept his greatest nemesis, as well. If he and Ken had been able to face the Demon, who knows? Dwelling on the past is no longer part of the legendary nomad's reportoire, though. Instead, he trains, he prepares, he examines the branching roads in front of him. Just this instant, it's that first thing that's taking up apparently /all/ of his focus. It's made evident because, as the precise kata ends, slicing air unless the ear deceives despite the almost complete lack of velocity, Ryu catches a glimpse of his audience.
There's not a dramatic reaction, but the Dragon is clearly surprised. Not by the presence, but momentarily, the attention. He gives a slightly uneasy smile, and a momentary wave, moving to pick up a towel and wipe his face. The much smaller Japanese fighter doesn't have the swagger and attention-grabbing build that Frank does, by any measure - but there's something in /how/ he carries himself, even beyond the fact that one could easily conclude it to be impossible to fit more muscle on a man Ryu's size.
It's been said many times, that Frank is an ugly man. But that only tells part of the story. There were some faces that were unforgettable, some faces that were like works of art, all to themselves. Not 'attractive' by any conventional definition, but something that one could stare at for hours on end. The only problem was, Frank himself stared back, unwaveringly, seemingly unblinkingly thanks to that cap he wore at all times.
He was now staring at Ryu, that all at once recognizable mug with a slight case of underbite, he approached the small man in the gi, and after a moment, spoke, looking down at him.
"Hey, yer one'a dem World Warriors, yer? Yer....yer Ryu, aintcher?" His voice sounded like a toaster that smoked its voice hoarse, pushing itself through a grater. The gravelly, unattractive voice of a man who's lived.
The large fellow draws Ryu's eye quickly. Not just because he's as big as the other three put together, or because he's the one stepping up to provide the World Warrior with some shade. No, for a veteran like Ryu, he doesn't even have to look to know. He can feel it, the chi flowing around each of them. Frank is the one with the talent, or perhaps simply the emotion and experience. Regardless, it's a somewhat unusually openly curious cant to his head that Ryu uses to greet the larger fighter.
Beyond that, Ryu simply nods at first. "Ryu." He agrees, possibly correcting pronunciation while affirming in a deep, clear baritone. A bare hand is offered over with another inclination of his head. "Don't think I've seen you around?" Not that it seems to bother him in the least.
Frank looked down at the bare hand, and offered his own. No doubt the difference in sizes would be noticeable, and Frank squeezed naturally, with the frightening raw power that had been cultivating and building for his entire life. Maybe the strength itself was the result of some strange Chi manifestation? Maybe he was really Hercules, or some ancient hero thought dead. Maybe it was just good genes, but Frank didn't give anything even approaching a 'weak noodle'. He kept this grip up a long time, not any sort of 'contest', but not a man used to social cues and subtleties. He'd finally let go whenever Ryu pulled his hand back insistantly, before speaking.
Frank says, "Ain't been here before, yer. Name's Frank. I've watchedyer fight, yer damn good.""
It speaks volumes on its own, the style of the handshake. Ryu listens, more than speaks through the gesture, though his own grip is firm, his arm easily able to handle the enthusiasm Frank brings to the table. It even brings a momentary grin to the nomad's face. He doesn't seem to have a problem letting the behemoth go right on saying hello for awhile. "Thanks."
It's the simple, humble acknowledgement of the praise, sincere in a vein that even suggests it's not something he hears as much as a beautiful woman hears that she's beautiful. Then again, as much time as Ryu spends living under rocks.... maybe he just doesn't know he's hot? "You're here to fight?" It's a safe guess, from where Ryu is standing. "In Ken's new show thing?" Ryu, spokesman extraordinaire.
"Yer, wanna try and start sumthin' official, heard about Ken Masters' project, came ter see if I could get in, yer."
It's not usual for Frank to be this...'chatty'. The big behemoth certainly has been no stranger to fighting recently, though his record officially consists of a loss and a double knockout...certainly not the greatest of starts, for the self-taught roughneck brawler, but it wasn't about that for him. It was about survival, and this was the only way to do that. He was still trying to make peace with that...
"Good place to start. You want to face the widest variety of fighters you can, figure out where your weakest points are. In your style." He doesn't even say 'style' in a way that suggests the bruiser might be more accustomed to just throwing a sumbitch into the wall. Or that Frank's record - if Ryu even knows - should matter in the slightest. "Don't be distracted by the lights, whatever form they take. It will limit your progress."
The advice is offered dead seriously, eyes level - or, looking up towards - the colossal brawler. Ryu doesn't seem to care that he's offering philosophical ramblings to a near-stranger, either. Fighters gotta stick together, right?
Frank nods, soaking it all in...but truth be told, bright lights never held any sway over him. Someone of Frank's breed was never meant for the ritzy, fancy things, was never meant for comfort, no, Frank was always meant to walk against the wind so to speak. Always meant to climb the mountain on the worst side, perpetually. Frank took a step back, still nodding, he spoke gruffly.
%t"Yer, been fightin' already. Diff'rent from the old days." Perhaps Ryu would be able to tell, be able to see that Frank walked without any kind of discipline, represented no real "style", but rather had the mannerisms and body language of something...primal, the savage fight for survival, rather than the civilized fight to better oneself...
That, at least, is common ground. It's been a long time since Ryu has had anything approaching a permanent address, so dedicated to walking against the wind is he. Of course, either side of the mountain is equally appealing to the nomad. Being a trouble magnet tends to make it somewhat irrelevant, admittedly. This doesn't seem to weigh heavily on the Ansatsuken master, just now. Even when it comes to snapping Ken out of his angry fugue. Destiny isn't always convenient.
"Always is." Ryu notes quietly, with a trace of nostalgia. "Different, that is." Something about Frank, and the lack of arrogance in the muscleman, prompts a simple, direct, "You've got the spirit for it, and there's always plenty to make the road harder. Just push, every minute. Training, fighting, living, it doesn't matter - make that one extra move."
It's not something Ryu expects this guy to have a problem with. A lot of punks reach for the limelight, but warriors always appreciate that genuine spark.
Frank looked down at the man called Ryu, just then that sort of sudden, innate understanding hit them both, or at least Frank thought so. That understanding between you and the wino junky on the bus at 3 in the morning. That understanding between you and the tiger in the zoo, that understanding that you walk the same path, that you as individuals, no matter how varied, breathe, live, fuck and die in the same universe, and the realization made Frank inhale sharply through his nose. As Ryu imparted that wisdom, Frank took it readily, and even as he slowly started turning, to lumber out of that Masters-constructed ziggurat, Frank spoke.
"Always gets harder. Don't matter in the end, yer. See yer later, Ryu."
This was a rarity for Frank. A bonafide, genuine good day. He'd remember this day for the rest of his natural life.
Log created on 23:28:46 11/16/2011 by Ryu, and last modified on 01:30:05 11/17/2011.