The three of them turned around to see a handsome Eastern young man leaning against the wall, watching them with a smile.
"Oh? Is that so?" Shermie, as the band's "diplomat" and an old hand at dealing with all kinds of admirers, flicked her long purple waves and gave Cloud a smile dripping with "professional courtesy." "That's very kind of you, handsome. Is there something you need? An autograph? A photo together?"
"No, no, no."
Cloud shook his head, then slowly walked up to her. He stopped at an invasive, intimate distance, looking down at her.
He reached out and, with an extremely suggestive gesture full of teasing intent, hooked a strand of purple hair from her forehead.
Then he brought it to his nose and inhaled gently.
"I just wanted to tell you personally, miss..."
His voice was magnetic, like a devil's whisper.
"...the perfume you're wearing smells lovely."
"But if you switched to Chanel No. 5, it would suit your... Queen of Lightning vibe even better."
With that, he didn't linger. He gave a casual wave to the three who stood there completely stunned, then turned and melted into the noisy crowd.
All that remained was Shermie, standing frozen in place, touching that strand of hair still carrying traces of a strange man's presence. Those purple eyes—usually full of seduction and languid charm—were now filled with confusion.
"Chanel... No. 5?"
"Queen of... Lightning?"
"Who... who the hell is this guy?! Spouting such nonsense!"
...
1996, midsummer. Tokyo Dome, Japan.
The sun blazed down as if trying to melt the entire earth.
But hotter than the sun was the fervent fire burning in the hearts of the tens of thousands of fighting enthusiasts gathered inside the Tokyo Dome!
The KOF '96 World Fighting Tournament opening ceremony was about to begin!
Unlike last year's atmosphere, heavy with "revenge" and "fate," this year's KOF '96 had been shrouded from the start in an unsettling, ominous feeling—like the calm before a terrible storm.
Frequent "wind" disasters occurring worldwide.
Rumors of "mysterious disappearances" circulating in fighting circles.
All of it hung like a massive dark cloud over every participant's head.
They knew that this year's KOF was far more than just a simple "martial arts tournament."
It was more like a massive whirlpool, full of the unknown and danger!
...
In the competitors' exclusive rest area, the atmosphere was so tense it felt like the air itself had frozen solid.
"Hmph, a bunch of... worthless trash who don't know they're courting death."
Iori Yagami still wore that "the whole world owes me eight million" look of peak edge-lord coolness.
Arms crossed, he leaned in a shadowy corner. Those blood-red eyes, filled with madness and killing intent, swept across the venue like precision radar, as if searching for any presence that "annoyed" him.
But unlike last year—
This year, Billy and Eiji Kisaragi, those two "temps," weren't by his side.
In their place were two women with even more peculiar vibes.
One was a stunning mature beauty in a tight purple professional skirt suit with a bombshell figure—Mature.
The other was an equally sexy short-haired beauty in a black office lady outfit, with an aura as cold as eternal ice—Vice.
These two claimed to be Iori Yagami's "number one fans" and had insisted on teaming up with him for this year's KOF.
At first, Iori refused.
But when he discovered these two women were inexplicably powerful—strong enough to barely withstand 50% of his attacks...
He shamefully acquiesced.
After all, having two reasonably strong "punching bags" to practice on was better than nothing.
...
Meanwhile, in the Japan Team's rest area, the atmosphere was also somewhat strange.
Kyo Kusanagi, this "Child of Destiny," was listening to a lecture from his "playboy father"—Saisyu Kusanagi—with an expression of utter despair.
"Kyo! Listen to your old man!" Saisyu Kusanagi—the "old prankster" who'd been brainwashed by Rugal during the KOF '95 finals and nearly beat his own son to death—was now spraying spittle everywhere in a pre-battle pep talk.
"This year's opponents are all strong! Especially that crazy kid from the Yagami clan, and... that little brother of yours who popped out of god-knows-where!"
"You, as the future head of the Kusanagi clan, absolutely! Cannot! Lose again! You hear me?! Otherwise... I'll release all your childhood bedwetting photos to the public!"
Kyo Kusanagi: "..."
He felt like his entire life was a tragedy.
...
And in the "South Town F4" rest area where our protagonist Cloud was stationed, the vibe was much more... harmonious.
And also much more sour.
"Cloud!"
Mai Shiranui, wearing a new "battle outfit" that somehow used even less fabric than last year, draped herself over Cloud like a colorful butterfly, her voice so sweet it could pull into threads.
"You didn't secretly find some random hussies to form a team with this time, did you?"
Her bright almond eyes scanned the venue like a precision "anti-theft radar," ready to issue a "Level One Alert" the moment any "suspicious" young woman came within three meters of Cloud.
"That's right! Cloud!" Yuri Sakazaki pouted, clinging to Cloud's other arm with a "vigilant" expression. "You promised me! That you'd treat me well for the rest of your life!"
Cloud, sandwiched between these two "little vinegar jars," felt his happiness was about to overflow.
On one side, he enjoyed the astonishing softness and elasticity pressing against his arms, while on the other, he had to placate Athena Asamiya, who was throwing "flirtatious glances" at him from not far away.
...
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