Anime/Manga Fan Fiction >> Fushigi Yuugi
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Street Fighter 2 / Fushigi Yuugi Crossover
All characters property of their respective owners etc, yada yada yada... ^_^
It was a cold wet afternoon as the plane touched down in Rio de Janeiro. The dark clouds in the sky
looked ready to release another brief storm of rain on the city below, and thunder rumbled ominously
to the west as the aeroplane taxied to the airport terminal and the steady stream of passengers
One of the first passengers of the plane was a middle aged man wearing nothing but a white gi with
the sleeves torn off. His face was stern and reflected years of dedication to the martial arts, as
did the black belt around his waist. To finish his image, a blood-red headband the color of the sun
on the flag of his nation was tied around his forehead, keeping most of his hair out of his face as
it rippled in the wind. For a moment, the wind seemed to catch his headband as he stood silently,
arms folded, halfway down the ramp onto the ground, his eyes gazing inwards, then the man behind him
roughly bumped into him and he nearly fell headfirst down the stairs.
"Come on Ryu!" the massive but cheery Russian said as he staggered down the stairs of the ramp,
clutching his third bottle of Vodka in one hand and trying vainly to support himself on the handrail
with the other. "We show those newbies how it's done, no?"
The Russian was a good couple of heads taller than the man in front of him who was now trying to
regain some of his composure and straightened his gi several times, trying to look as cool as the
third passenger in his group now descending behind the Russian.
This man wore nothing but a pair of golden shorts, but seemed to be unaffected by the rather chilly
wind. He was dark skinned and bald headed, and wore a grisly necklace of skulls around his neck as
well as assorted other jewelry. When he saw the Russian had managed to wedge himself between the
sides of the ramp though, a brief sweatdrop appeared and he flickered away in a flash of light,
reappearing next to the japanese man still fiddling with his gi.
"Ryu, I knew we should've brought ol' T. Hawk instead of this buffoon..." he whispered, eyeing the
larger man who was still struggling to free himself. Ryu have him a scornful look. "T. Hawk's a
newbie; he wasn't in it from the start. We're classics." He appeared to be proud of that
proclamation, and started to practise an obscure martial arts move in front of the plane that
involved yelling and jumping into the air. The Russian managed to free himself and fell down the
rest of the steps, looking up at the lanky Indian in front of him who was shaking his head at
"We're never going to beat them at this rate," he mused. A few more of their group emerged from the
airlock door; a man with long blond hair and big shaggy black eyebrows wearing a designer suit and
shades who eyed the slightly delapidated airport with a worried expression, a young woman wearing a
tight-fitting blue leotard with golden embriodery with a slightly vapid expression, and a muscley
man with his blond hair in a bizarre semi-mohican style and piercing eyes who leaped off the ramp
and did a commando roll over to the Indian.
"Dhalsim, I hope they're transporting him soon, I need a fix..." he nervously ran his fingers
through his hair and patted the pocket containing his syringe. The Indian threw his hands up in
exasperation; unfortunately they went a bit further than he intended, his arms stretching a good few
metres and nocking the radio antennae off a nearby building. "Look, there!" he exclaimed.
A few locals had been dragged out by airport workers to help them unload the large wooden crate. As
they carried it towards the building a loud howling emerged from the crate and the sound of nails
scraping wood. "I hope they nailed him in securely though," Dhalsim mused to himself, then absently
retracted his arms and turned to go into the airport terminal.
A few hours ago, a different plane had deposited a different lot of passengers, one of which, a
small boy, had looked extremely green, and the others had seemed extremely relieved at finally
It was a large arena in an area where the rainforest had been cleared away to make room by the
river; quite a beautiful spot except for the hastily erected wooden huts around the dirt arena ring
bounded by a thick mooring rope. On one side stood Dhalsim, who was stretching his legs and arms; or
rather, extending them. On the other side, a strange fox-like man with shaven blue hair kept very
long at the front and back. He appeared to wear a permanent cheesy smile, and looked ready to go
super deformed at the drop of a hat. In one hand he held a long staff, and he wore a shawl of dark
blue with a white pattern slung over one shoulder. Bowing, he took his position opposite Dhalsim
before speaking: "I am Chichiri no da. It is nice to meet you na no da." His face appeared to be
positively beaming at the other man, who was trying to look dark and mysterious but burst into
hysterical laughter after the last moments of his self-control slipped away.
As he was carried off in a stretcher, one of the attendents came over and whispered to Chichiri. "It
was a long trip; I think all the stress must've got to him. You know, spending five hours in a plane
with those lot..." he gestured towards the group of people on Dhalsim's side of the ring, one of
which was still practising the useless looking martial arts move.
"I understand no da," Chichiri said, and looked over his shoulder. His face was still smiling
though, and the attendent swallowed once before returning to the ringside. Meanwhile, one of the
warriors on Dhalsim's side had approached and taken his place; the man with the yellow mohican had a
filmy eyed, ecstatic look on his face and kept rubbing his hands together slowly. Chichiri
disappeared to reappear away from the ring as his side's fighter took his place; a noble looking man
with long, dark hair holding a long, impressive looking sword.
One of the attendents beckoned to him, then spoke in an anxious tone. "Er, I'm sorry sir, but you
aren't allowed weapons in this tournament." The other man stood his ground. "But, I don't know how
to fight any other way! Besides, I'm the Emperor!" He said indignantly. The attendent was suddenly
dragged off by Chichiri. The other man strode to the center of the ring and struck a pose; all
through the audience women gasped and fainted. His opponent approached and caught him as he was
preparing to unleash his charms on the men as well with a slightly shaky uppercut, and he fell
backwards landing awkwardly.
As he staggered to his feet, he saw the blond haired man advance, the look of blind ecstasy still
transfixed to his face, just before the crowd gathered into a mob of outraged females, rushed into
the ring and mobbed him, yelling about him hurting Hori-sama. He looked around, shifted on his feet
and looked at his sword, then turned it and used it as a mirror to examine the damage to his face.
As the dust cloud settled his opponent could be seen being dragged off, beaten and bruised, by the
lynch mob of angry fans. Smiling he put his sword away in a flashy move and proudly turned and made
his way off the ring.
The neon sign glowed for a few moments before stagehands hurriedly dragged it offscene. On one side
of the ring, the wooden crate taken off the plane stood, and on the other a tall, scary looking
blond man wearing full body armour with nasty looking spikes on the shoulder plates looked down at a
large man who seemed to be half man, half wolf. He smiled, and occasionally cracked the whip he was
holding between his hands; at each CRACK, the wolf-man flinched and whimpered like a puppy. By the
time the attendents had levered the crate open he was trembling with fear and submission, and the
tall blond man grinned at him, then held his arm up and pointed. The wolf-man turned tail and half
charged, half fled into the arena, confronting the other man with a shaggy mane of red hair and
wearing glow-in-the-dark orange cycling shorts that were too tight for his thick legs who was
emerging from the crate.
Both men eyed each other, then there was a brief half hearted scuffle before the man from the crate
suddenly flashed with electricity and the wolf-man was thrown out the ring before rolling twice on
the ground and lying there with a small whimper. The blond haired man rolled his eyes and
The tall man wearing two gaudy headbands strode confidently into the ring, his face a mask of grim,
unyielding determination as he faced the even larger man opposite him. The larger man, wearing only
a pair of disturbingly revealing red shorts and a pair of leather boots, swayed slightly as his
blurry eyed gaze tried to focus on the tall man. He slurred something in russian, then broke into a
staggering charge towards the tall man, from whose tunic a small white feline head suddenly poked
out. The tall man stood rooted to the spot, his face turned to indecision by the huge man shambling
unsteadily yet quickly towards him, both arms outstretched as for a big bear hug, then the feline
face turned into a small cat as it slipped out of his tunic and dropped onto the ground.
The little white cat ran a few paces, an amused grin on its face as it deftly tripped up the huge
Russian rushing towards the other man. There was a loud crash, then the audience gave brief
applause which the little cat seemed to enjoy, as it stood bowing to them. The man still standing
looked around, appearing to be confused, then scratched his head for a moment before shrugging and
walking out of the ring. A few belated cheers rose up as he was greeted by his team. "Way to go
Mitsukake, you sure showed him..." The cat, finally deciding it had had enough praise, scampered out
of the ring and ran back up the tall man's body to sit on his shoulder.
The next pair were the man with long blond hair, still dressed in his designer suit, his big bushy
eyebrows emphasising the huge confident grin on his face, and his opponent, a strangely dressed man
with flaming red hair and a cocky grin to match the others'. He also seemed to have a pair of fangs
which the other man suddenly looked worriedly at and turned to whisper to an attendent. The
attendent replied in somewhat more louder tones than necessary, "Yes Ken, your plastic surgeon is
RIGHT over there! If you had those eyebrows trimmed you could probably--" realising he'd overstepped
his mark, a big sweatdrop trickled down his face as he scampered back to the sidelines.
The fight was somewhat more spectacular than previously, but was soon decided when the man with long
blond hair did a familiar-by-now leaping punch high into the air, yelling "SHORYUKEN!!!" as he
sailed over the man with red hair, out of the ring and fell with a loud splash into the river
beyond. His opponent's grin broadened as a similar looking man with brown hair rushed from the
audience and they did an arm in arm dance in a circle. "Koji!!! I kicked his fucking ass good!"
"Genrou, you are the best!!" the other man grinned, before they were hustled off by the
The man with the white gi stood in the centre of the ring, practising his kata as he waited while
the worried attendents, their tempers frayed and almost ready to explode, rushed around looking for
his opponent, before they finally found him hiding inside one of the huts with a teenage girl, whose
brown hair was up in buns. Several minutes later, they managed to untangle them and drag the young
man into the ring away from the protesting girl who suddenly decided she had something better to do
as a hotdog seller made his way through the audience selling his wares.
The ensuing battle was long and gruelling, the rapt silence only broken occasionally by the sound of
hotdogs being devoured, until finally a loud "Shinku... HADOKEN!!!" echoed over the rainforest and
the young man flew out of the ring head over heels, landing in a pitiful heap on the ground. The
other man panted and sagged to his knees, then suddenly looked up to see a young teenage girl throw
herself at him screaming, fists thumping and feet kicking, and went down like the man he'd just
triumphed over. The judges called it a draw, much to his indignation; he didn't notice the man with
the long hair and sword surrepticiously handing them a black suitcase after the match.
The final round was between the young chinese girl, who had her hair in buns much like the teenage
girl who had assaulted Ryu earlier and was now resting happily in the arms of the young man she'd
"protected", and an feminine looking man with purple hair. The chinese girl appeared to be ditzy
somewhere on a par with the girl she resembled, and squawked "I'm the strongest woman in the world!"
happily to the audience, not noticing the confident grin that appeared on her opponents face as he
cocked his head. "Care to make a bet on that?" he said as he approached her.
Her face suddenly confused, she nodded slowly but failed to put together another coherent sentence,
her face slipping to the vapid expression her surviving team mates recognised and groaned at. The
young man grinned at her, and beckoned to the sidelines, whispering something over his shoulder to
the attendents. Shortly, two scurried into the ring carrying a small table which they planted in the
dirt then ran back out of the ring. The young man beckoned to the girl, who stared at him blankly,
and he started to look frustrated. Several gesticulations later, he held the girl's hand clasped in
his, their elbows on the table, and she smiled happily and repeated the one phrase she knew, just
before a startled expression replaced it as her arm was slammed down, breaking the table in two with
the force of the impact. She pushed the table away, stood hastily and ran off crying, clutching her
On the sidelines, the flame haired man laughed, then looked around and quickly shut up when he
realised nobody was joining in, a large sweatdrop appearing on his friend. The young man meanwhile
had stood up and had each half of the table spinning on one finger of each hand. His teammates
yelled and cheered. "Go Nuriko, go Nuriko!!"
Winner: Suzaku shichi seishi!
Ok ok, I know I missed out Chiriko, but I just couldn't think of anyone to fight him. Well, I
could've put E.Honda against him, but it wouldn't exactly have been fair, even taking into account
the portrayed intelligence of the SF2 team. ^_^;;
Liked it? Hated it? Email me! ^_^
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The preceeding was a work of fiction. Any statements regarding any person, place, or other entity (real or imaginary) is the sole responibility of the author of this work of fiction. Fan Works Inc. takes no responsibility for the content of user submitted stories. All stories based on real people are works of fiction and do not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. All stories based on other copyrighted works are written with authors knowing that these works violate copyright laws.
Please see the Terms of Service for more information.