Akuma grimaced in pain. He had bandaged his wound as well as he could. He could have easily gone to a healer, but it was just a scratch. Yeah.. a simple scratch. Akuma stood up, pain shooting through his limbs. He stretched this way and that, which only ended up aggravating the wound more. But it was a pain he could take.

He was within a drab inn, sparsely furnished with a lump bed and a nightstand, lacking any means of illumination sans a flickering lamp. He would prefer to go to his own abode back at his island, but his current affairs made it important he remained here. The thought brought a frown on him. He couldn't skulk away and hide. He was sure Zanetsuken was somewhere close by, most likely still within this town.

While doing simple punch combos and wincing in pain from his stomach wound, Akuma ran a list through his head of where to start. Obviously Zanetsuken wanted to fight him again, otherwise he would not have spared him. But he needed information ON Zanetsuken before he dared to challenge him again.

He thought about perhaps asking Dark Sakura. They had met in the past... no. He couldn't ask her. She had done him a favor already. Besides, he thought, frowning. He didn't like asking people favors in the first place.

He ran through all of the proclaimed Street Fighters. He knew he could beat the information out of any of them, even with this stomach wound. Wincing, he knew that was not true. Even Dan could get in a good blow in this condition. That brought a further frown on his face.

So he'd ask someone who wasn't affiliated with the Street Fighters while also might know of a way to defeat him or at least give him some information. Akuma punched a little too hard, and contorted in agony falling to one knee. He couldn't wait to strangle Zan's scrawny neck.

Akuma waltzed through Mayflower, his wound hidden from the naked eye. As usual, everyone bolted away from him. He smiled darkly; hurt or not, he was still an indomitable fighter capable of crushing anyone in his bare hands. But where to start first.... He need information. Something he was less then adept at acquiring.

This town appeared to be too run down to be of any use anyway. He was about to use his Ashura Senkuu to teleport to a more fruitful city, when he saw a small dilapidated shack with the words 'KARA-E GURU' on it. The 'T' was missing in action.

He strode across the streets, nearly being run over by a man driving a donkey. He snarled, half-heartedly swatting at the man. He eeped and turned around, galloping away as fast as his ass could move.

The place was in worse shape then he thought. The windows were maybe once clear, and stains covered most of the chipping white paint of the walls. He pushed open the beaten up brown door, and a halfhearted *ding* echoed throughout. The inside consisted of some soggy floor mattresses, with a diminutive man adorned in an ancient white karate outfit seated cross-legged in the middle. He smiled at the approach of the large man.

"Hello good sir. May I interest you in so--" His words were cut short as Akuma lifted him by his scrawny neck into the air.

"I have some questions, little man, and it would be least painful if you answered them quickly and truthfully." He snarled, his eyes glowing red for the slightest moment.

The little man pulled a chopstick from his pocket and jabbed Akuma in his stomach with it. He winced, dropping the half-pint karate Guru.

"Wh.. why you little!" Akuma snarled. "How did you know I was hurt??"

The man chuckled, standing up and sheathing his formidable chopstick. "Not all things are sensed with the visual knowledge alone. The contorting of your left eye shows pain. The slowed gait shows you are most likely hurt in the stomach. And that look shows you're about to pound my head in, but that will not get you far in the way of having questions answered.."

Akuma sighed. He hated dealing with people.

"Fine. What do you know of a man called Zanetsuken?" Akuma asked.

The man's smile quickly went away. "Zanetsuken.... a disciple of the Zhartec fighting technique. I do not know much about it, but I do know they turn your own attacks against you, and that the master of the school is older then I. He has been refining his style for years."

"Yeah. So. How do I STOP him?" Akuma was blatantly uninterested in history.

The little man frowned at the massive Akuma. "Ambition without knowledge leads only to defeat." Akuma raised his eyebrow at that statement. He was right, but he wouldn't admit it.

"Nobody has ever seen the master of the arts, sans the disciples of the school. It is known the master had witnessed every Street Fighter tournament, and is thought to know the repertoire of every acclaimed fighter, and exactly how to counter it."

This sunk Akuma. No wonder he countered his moves so throughly.

"So how would I DEFEAT someone who I couldn't hit?"

"Simple." the little man said. "Use a fighting technique he doesn't know."

Akuma was walking down the cracked, dirtied street again. His wound had clotted again, dulling the pain. But he wasn't worried about clotted wounds right now anyway. Many downtrodden stores lined the sides of the streets, most specializing in diner foods, and looked to come straight out of the 70's. An occasional man walked down the sidewalk, taking care to run across when Akuma strode near.

Before Akuma knocked the old man's teeth out, he told him of a gypsy who might be able to give him an answer to his question. She resided in Kokeno, a city nearby Tokemedo. He knew where Tokemedo was and could easily teleport there.

He concentrated, but before he felt the tell-tale snap of him being whisked to a new destination he felt an agonizing burn in his stomach. He stopped his attempt. Maybe he should wait awhile before trying his Ashura Senkuu again.

So this time he'd have a go on foot. But first he had to eat... Eat? In a public place? He hadn't done that in... almost ever. IF ever. Sighing, he stumbled towards a rather drawl looking diner. But all of this town looked drawl.

The establishment was barely bigger than the bar he had his 'scuffle' in. The inside was mainly cracked tile along with a burnished and dented brass topped wooden counter. Rows of stools, most likely at one time elaborate, were in front of them. Opposite to the bar was a pair of stalls, coated in cheap red vinyl.

One booth had a pair of normal looking thugs, who ignored the appearance of the titanic Akuma. He felt about ready to go over there and pop them in the head, but he decided against it in his current state. He plopped on a bar, ordering a triple serving of steak.

After devouring his meal, he found himself feeling surprisingly better. Behind him, the thugs nodded to each other and stood up, approaching him. One was lean and tall, donning so many black leather adornments he looked ready to pop out at any second and had purple hair. The second was wider and stronger, wearing a leather jacket with the arms ripped off and jeans. He had no hair, and was balder then when he was born.

Sighing, Akuma stood up as well, cracking his knuckles and facing the two assailants. Suddenly, however, they both pulled out a pair of Cougar Magnums, leveling them in Akuma's direction.

"Yer that Akuma fellow aren't ya? Haha, lets see how tough you really are." The second thug snickered, and Akuma didn't move but only scowled. He waited for an opening, but apparently in vain.

But then Akuma saw something behind them, out the dirtied window. Across the cracked and ill-repaired street, inside a similar diner. Zanetsuken. Staring at him. Laughing. Akuma's face contorted in rage; Zanetsuken was laughing at him from a distance, eating a plate of finely prepared lobster!

The two thug's where confused, but kept their aim. "What the hell are you looking a--"

CRACK! Faster then he thought he could go, Akuma had slammed his fist into the bald thugs face, shattering his jaw and sending bloodied teeth spiraling. He hit the booth, knocking over the cheap plastic table in a rain of shards.

The second thug was able to mouth out 'what' before Akuma brought his elbow against his head, cruelly denting it and slamming him into the tile floor, uprooting a number of them to fly across the room. The pair were dead in seconds.

Panting, Akuma looked back across the street through the window, at the diner Zanetsuken was eating in. He was gone.

Roaring in anger, Akuma ripped off the stool and hurled it at the dirtied window, crashing into it causing thousands of resonating cracks like a spider web. He proceeded to then kick the bar, shattering the cheap wood and causing the brass countertop to collapse on itself.

Akuma could not recall being so angry. Never. Even Dan's taunting never affected him. This guy just smiles, and Akuma wants to rip his head off. Which begins to anger him even more.

In the mist of his anger, he felt a hand on his shoulder behind him. Thinking it was one of the thugs again, he snarled, turning while he viciously backfisted. His fist hit a brown wooden staff, and he heard a mysterious jingle. Confused, he looked up the slender staff. It was topped with a golden 5-point star, and had a ring with many smaller rings attached, the source of the sound.

Confused further, and oddly enough a bit concerned, he looked past the staff into the face of an oddly handsome fellow, smiling with his eyes shut. He had dark brown hair, almost black. He was wearing a white robe, slightly armored with a leather breastplate, with a large black emerald in the chest and one on each shoulder. A member of the Zhartec fighting style!

"Greetings!" said the robed man cheerfully. "I believe I have some.. advice for you."

All Akuma could do was gawk.