The King of Fighters XI/Team Stories

This page includes English translations for the team stories. The English translations can be found on The King of Fighters: Official website, while the Japanese translation can be found on The King of Fighters XI website.

Hero Team
English: http://kofaniv.snk-corp.co.jp/english/history/kofxi_story/index.php?num=hero

Japanese: http://game.snk-corp.co.jp/official/kof-xi/

Dublin, the capital of Ireland. This old yet distinctly modern city has displayed some the most remarkable economic development in Europe in recent years. This land was covered by glaciers over 10,000 years ago, but with the influences of sea currents the cold of winter is not so sever… …or so that is how it was supposed to be.

“You liar, Shen.”

“I told you it wasn’t that cold, Ash.”

Dressed in a tight-fitting coat, Ash continued to shiver slightly. This city, no matter how genial the climate was said to be, was still on almost the same latitude as Moscow and Hokkaido. The two turned off Grafton Street into an alley. Ireland is filled with pubs, and a few in that alley are marked with small signs. They chose one of them and opened the door. Over 10 counter or table seats were open. There were a few customers in the establishment although the time at this time one would still not call evening. It was your typical Irish pub whose customers were most likely neighbourhood regulars.

A middle-aged gentleman sat at one of the tables.

“Hey, Ash, isn’t that the guy?”

“Could be.”

“Uh, excuse me, sir… ‘Are the shamrocks in bloom?’”

The middle-aged man playing solitaire stops his game and looks over at Shen.

“…You must be waiting for someone, right?” The old gentlemen struck a puzzled look. “Psh, guess not. Sorry to have troubled you, mister.” Ash was already sitting at a seat at the counter. “Let’s see, I’m in the mood for a stout, but do you have anything that’d warm me up?” The proprietor mashing potatoes on the other side of the counter responded with a friendly smile.

“A mug of Irish coffee is just the ticket for bone-chilling times like these. Are you a traveller, then? Welcome to Dublin.”

“Yeah, I’ll take one of those, too.”

Their hot cocktail included sugar, fresh cream and coffee to a base of Irish whiskey. The aroma of the skilfully prepared concoction spread throughout the pub.

“How about a hand since you appear to have the time?”

The old gentleman they had approached earlier invited the two while shuffling his deck of cards. A second look at the man proved he was of considerable height. Although his hands and feet were slim, he by no means could be referred to as frail.

“Heh, heh, heh, sounds good. I’m up for a hand!”

“Oh, brother. You’re really are a sucker for games of chance.”

“A game of poker, perchance? Or would the game, judging from the location, be bridge?”

“That would be England. Poker would be just fine for me. Well then….”

Dealt one by one in precise intervals, neat stacks of five cards lay before the two.

“It’s okay to place bets for each card dealt, but let’s take it slow to begin. …Shall I open?”

“… …” Shen’s expression became focused. He smirked to reveal what he had wished to keep hidden. Ash giggled, but, then again, he always did. Compared to the model poker face of the middle-aged gentleman, their faces revealed more stories than the front page of today’s newspaper.

“Naturally I’m in.”

“I fold.”

“Already? No one folds after the first deal!”

The unhappily tossed cards all fell face up: a king, a five, king, five, five.

“Tough break. Maybe the next hand.”

The middle-aged gentleman skilfully snatched up the cards without making a sound.

“Hey, Shen.”

“What?”

“You know what “poker face” means, don’t you?”

“Are you messing with me? Of course I’ve heard of it.”

“Well, OK then.” The gentleman, after displaying a shuffle with dexterity of a magician, had Ash cut the cards. The snap of the cards was delightfully crisp.

“Your card-handling is impressive. I should be paying for the honor to see such a display.”

“Much obliged.”

He began to deal the cards again.

“By the way… ‘Are the shamrocks in bloom?’”

“Hey, Ash, been there, done that already.”

“‘They will be, if you wait until spring.’”

“Wh-…Hey. What was that little drama before?”

“Open the game.”

Shen grumbled with dissatisfaction, checked his cards and grew more irritated.

“Pfft!”

“Jeesh, Shen.”

“Yeah, I know, ‘poker face,’ right? But more than that…”

“Later, later. First, let’s play this hand. I’m in.”

“Hmph. This is bogus! I fold.”

“…I raise.” The middle-aged gentleman requested a raise in the wager. But there was no indication of any money, not even a tip, on top of the table. His colored glasses reflected the lighting inside the pub so the movement of his eyes remained a mystery. Or perhaps the tilt of his head was calculated that way on purpose.

“Hmm. OK, I raise, too.”

“I raise again.”

“That’s the second raise for this hand, right? Well, I raise again.”

The two continued to up their ante, but there was still no indication of money or a tip being placed on the table. At this point, the middle-aged gentleman brought the small whiskey glass placed on the edge of the table to his lips.

“Hey, Ash, just what are you betting on?”

“Whether this guy will fight alongside us in the upcoming KOF. Didn’t I tell you that?

“No, you didn’t. And if you lose, what happens?”

“I pay him with no catch. Of course, if I win I’ll still pay him but he participates in KOF.”

“Then you’re out of luck no matter the outcome.”

“I’ll be bringing a long-retired Karnöffel master back into action; that’s about it.”

"Karnöffel?"

Shen asks again about the unfamiliar term, but he misses his chance owing to the advance of the gentleman’s game. “All set, then? Showdown time! I call.” Shen thrusts forward to observe Ash’s hand. Jack, queen, seven, seven, seven. Three of a kind. “…Somehow it looks like I lose.” With his hand still face down on the table, as the expression of the middle-aged gentleman changes for the first time, he tilts the glass back and finishes off whiskey.

“The name’s Oswald. As for this undertaking, I accept.” Both Ash and the disapproving Shen clasp Oswald’s extended hand and shake to conclude the negotiations.

“Well, we should discuss the particulars…. Let’s change our venue, shall we?”

As the three rise from their seats, the owner, idle up till now, rushes over to clean up. Ash places a few bills on the table.

“Thank you for your hospitality, my good man. It was impeccable. Merci. ♪”

Oswald’s hand still lay face down on the table. Oswald puts his coat on at the door, and is already in the middle of making his exit.

Once the three leave, the tension in the pub eases and things return back to normal. The owner turns over Oswald’s hand, which had been left face down on the table. Spade, club, heart. And three aces.

When the owner turns around while incredulously tilting his head, Oswald is standing there.

“Excuse me, I forgot my hat.”

Oswald removes his hat from the coat hook, places it on his head, and fixes his gaze on the owner over the top of his glasses as he adjusts them with a middle finger. Beads of sweat run down the owner’s back.

“Well, then, cheerio!

Fatal Fury Team
English: http://kofaniv.snk-corp.co.jp/english/history/kofxi_story/index.php?num=garou

Japanese: http://game.snk-corp.co.jp/official/kof-xi/

“Hooray for Kim!”

“We’re rooting for you!”

Kim and Terry are waiting in the airport lobby while Chan and Choi serenade them with feigned, no two-faced and half-hearted cheers. This unprecedented combination was arrived at by a series of twists and turns. When Mai, irritated at Andy’s repeated absences and tired of acceding with the usual “Well, if you two have to enter together, then I suppose it’s OK”, proactively insisted on taking a vacation with him during the period scheduled for KOF, Joe Higashi also took himself out of the running because it overlapped with the Muetai title match. Tizoc, who had joined the team last year, had already entered on another team, provoking Andy to think outside the box.

Just then, as if Heaven-sent, a possible candidate nonchalantly waddled walked by.

“Terry, is that you? You sure have changed.” Clad in his usually flashy attire and wearing sunglasses, Duck flashed his familiar Mohican hair style, unique gait, and affable mood. This reunion with Southtown’s minor celebrity Duck King gave Terry the feeling that light was at the end of the tunnel. Even more:

“KOF? Great, I’m in. Just the thing to take me out of this current bout of boredom. ♪”

Having secured his assent then and there, the harsh features of Duck’s face, in Terry’s eyes, underwent a miraculous change and he was looking into the face of God.

“Well, Terry, what about the other guy? You need a team of three for KOF, don’t you?”

“Well, I have one possibility…”

Terry intended to rely on the better nature of the Korean Team led by Kim. Since Choi Bounge had sat out last year’s tournament owing to the participation of Jhun Hoon, it stood to reason a little shake-up this year would do no harm. This year, however, Jhun was not scheduled to enter, so the breaking up the team might prove a little…challenging.

“Tsk, tsk. If you can get Kim to join, then, that’d solve everything, right?”

“If Kim agrees to join our team, I could rest a lot easier, but that’s probably impossible.”

“Really? Why?”

“It would put Chang and Choi on the sidelines. They’ve trained for KOF all this time. They’d be crushed if we knocked them out of the picture.”

Duck made an exaggerated shrug of the shoulders: what am I gonna do with this guy?

“Uh, Terry, just think this through.”

“? Uh, OK.”

“Aren’t Kim’s two disciples taking the initiative and joining KOF on their own?”

“… …”

“Well?”

※ ※

“Go Terry! Go Duck! Hooray!”

“We know you’re gonna win, all rightey!”

In contrast to the hesitant Kim when this matter was broached, Chan and Choi were at the point of dancing a jig of full approval for Terry’s proposal. Naturally even now they’re completely being it.

“Master Kim, sometimes you have to strike out on your own to take on higher level contests.”

“Rightey-oh. That way we can train with a long-range plan toward the next KOF.”

The two had not forgotten to embellish and justify their own sentiments. Even now when the three had boarded the plane they celebrated their departure and heaped on their praises as they waved a tiny flag. Whatever he knew of the two, if Kim had wanted to find fault, he would be unable to even find even an inkling.

“Well, no ‘education’ or ‘rehabilitation’ this time, eh? A little disappointed?”

“Not at all. Ha, ha, ha…”

His usual refreshing grin, too, somehow lacked its keenness. At this rate would he be able to give 100 percent during the tournament…? Terry came up with a plan and nudged Kim with his elbow. He hushed the tone of his voice so Duck, sitting on the other side of Kim, could not here what he was about to say.

“Hey, Kim. It’s about Duck, but I wonder if his future is OK, being who he is and all.”

“… …”

“I mean, if you think about his future, KOF may be just the opportunity to provide him with a little ‘rehabilitation,’ don’t you think?”

“Yeah, I see…You sure have got a point there, Terry.”

Kim regained some of his old zeal, and folded his arms to consider the possibilities. Now came Duck’s turn to nudge Kim from the other side.

“You know, Kim, I’ve been thinking,” he whispered,

“about Terry. Just how long do you think he can keep up that jobless vagabond routine? I worry as a friend, mind you.”

“… …”

“I think you, Kim, are just the guy to ‘educate’ him about a life more meaningful, eh?”

“Yeah, I see… You sure have got a point there, Duck.”

Kim became even more high-spirited. He flexed his crossed arms. With this new sense of purpose as he looked toward KOF, he was unmistakably on his way to gradually reaching the top of his game. The airplane carrying Terry, Kim, and Duck soared up into the Southtown sky.

※ ※

“…They’re gone, big guy!”

“Yup.”

“Those two have no idea what lies in store for them with Kim in their grills, do they?”

“Not a clue.”

“I’m kinda looking forward to see how their ‘rehabilitated’ when they get back.”

“… …”

“… …”

“I’m getting a tad misty without him around.”

“Yeah, just a tad.”

Rival Team
English: http://kofaniv.snk-corp.co.jp/english/history/kofxi_story/index.php?num=rival

Japanese: http://game.snk-corp.co.jp/official/kof-xi/

“Stick ’em up!”

The gun-wielding man hollered this out in the reception room the small bank. After some of the few villagers recovered from the shock, they raised their hands and a blond Japanese and black-haired youth winked and obeyed.

(Are you sure about this? Nikaido)

(This’ll be a snap…… But he’s packing a shotgun, so we’ll have to wait until he shows an opening.)

The South of France, a small town of a few thousand. Having arrived here to meet up with someone, Benimaru Nikaido and Duo Lon for the time being opt to feign helplessness and raise their hands over their heads. Were all things normal, Benimaru would have by now neutralized the thief with an over-the-top display, but, even more unfortunate still, there were no women under the age of 50 in the bank.

The town was your typical, small agrarian village, replete with a church and small shops at its centre. It was bustling with livestock, and cows and horses could be seen sauntering through town. Although a bank, it only had a staff of four and the building was ancient without the slightest hint of ostentation. Aside from Benimaru, Duo Lon, and, presumably, the bank robber, the other customers were all locals.

Had they not been invited here by Ash Crimson’s “acquaintance,” there would be no reason for their presence here. They had dropped into this bank to ask for directions and had the misfortune to run into this robber, but this was no pickle they could not easily extricate themselves from

“F-fold your hands behind your head and eat the ground! Hurry!”

The thief was clearly in a state of panic. His lips trembled faintly under the brim of his cap, and the muzzle of his gun dangled up and down, left to right. Inside there were no screams, and the events proceeded with an eerie silence. Gazing through the glass in the wooden frame of a window more suited to the décor of a country home than a bank, one could see a cow pass by a small truck loaded with straw. The sunlight here in Southern France was gentle even in winter and made their predicament of having to suck in the tense air on this side of the glass seem all the more absurd..

(So, what’s your plan…?)

While awkwardly sprawled out on the floor with Duo Lon, Benimaru was the portrait of cool, even having the time to drink in the local ambience. Just how many people would be able to savour the pastoral mood beyond the window while being held hostage by a bank robber? Aside from Benimaru, probably no one.

(……)

(What is it, Nikaido?)

(…A horse.)

(A horse?)

A white horse passed by the window.

(…I told you didn’t I? A horse.)

(…That’s a horse all right.)

A whip was placed on the white horse’s back, presumably by the woman now straddling it. Her face was positioned up high, but Benimaru and Duo Lon being sprawled on the floor were just at the right angle to exchange glances. The woman arched her back, gently took the bridle, and snatched up her whip. Her hair was in a bob and her lips were pursed, creating quite the noble air about her. She was quite the beauty, but Benimaru was. He was, after all, threatened by a bank robber, sprawled prone on the floor, and subject to someone else’s whims. You could call it the worst way to meet someone new, so he had only but to rethink his attack then wrap this situation up in a pretty bow.

Just as Benimaru resolved to do move into action, that young lady on the white horse stormed through the bank’s front entrance, horse and all. When she thrust the whip at the bank robber from her high perch, she loudly declared:

“I command you! Throw down your weapon and surrender.”

The robber was not the only one taken off guard by surprise. The voices that called out seconds later were those of the villagers taken hostage.

“Mademoiselle Blanctorche!”

“It’s Mademoiselle Elisabeth”

At the echo of the voices of those in the bank everyone felt that the danger had abated, but there was also a rather undeniable feeling of pity towards the bank robber.

“H-hey, lady! Can’t you see I’m armed?”

※ ※

“My eyes are still flashing. Are you okay, Duo Lon?”

“Yeah.”

The bank robber was taken down in an instant. Just now did it happen? A brilliant flash had emanated from the hands of this woman called Elisabeth, and the robber along with the others were blinded and dazed. When they were finally able to look around, they saw the robber had already been hog-tied on the floor. Once he was handed over to the police who’d since rushed into the bank, Benimaru and the others were released. The hostages were each interrogated in succession, but there was no mystery behind their involvement in the incident so there were no prolonged formalities. The woman who moments earlier had been referred to as Elisabeth stood before Benimaru. The woman was of considerable stature and her back still arched, as it was when she was on horseback. Benimaru gave her his name, and after he introduced Duo Lon began to talk with her in his typically joking tone.

“Well, I suppose you had to do that to catch the robber, but I’d of liked to hear at least one word of apology.”

“If you have any complaints…” Elisabeth responded dauntlessly. If you have any complaints, how about standing up and showing what you can do with your fists before you show me your tail by curling up on the ground.

“Hey, that’s out of line! We acting with the safety of the hostages in mind.”

“Oh, really now? Talk is cheap.”

Elisabeth swatted down Benimaru’s protestations.

“Well, take it easy, Duo Lon and Benimaru. I know you went out of your way to come see me, but the Blanctorches have no desire to associate with cowards. This conversation is over.” After pivoting on her heels, she started to walk straight out the room. Benimaru gave a little whistle.

“You got a lot of nerve summoning us all the way to France, Madamoisel Hoity-Toity… But sometimes a little nerve can be a good think too.”

“Yeah, hold on there.”

Duo Lon called out to behind the quickly exiting Elisabeth. For the excessively laconic Duo Lon, this was a rare happening indeed. “Ash Crimson has obtained Chizuru Kagura’s…power of the Yasakani.”

Elisabeth stopped dead in her tracks.

“… …”

“I thought you’d know about that.”

“You did your research. Just like a descendant the Flying Brigands. I’d say.”

“… …”

“I heard your kind of Flying Brigands had been wiped out by “Lon” your leader. But nevertheless…”

Benimaru took his cue to interject.

“Now it’s my turn to ask the questions. Kusanagi, Yagami, Mukai, Orochi, have any memory of hearing names like that around these parts? We were in last year KOF. We know things you couldn’t imagine.”

“…Very well. Fill me in.”

“Well, you should be sounding us out on this, but do you suppose you could join our KOF team?”

“I’ll make my decision after I hear what you have to say. Jacques!” The old man who up till now been entrusted with the horse’s bridle obeyed and drew near.

“Since I shall now go home, please guide these two to the mansion.”

“Very well, mademoiselle.”

“Well, the, I shall see you later. …Ha!”

She had already straddled her white steed and dashed off like the wind. It was a scene that made one wonder, is this really the 21st century?

“The mademoiselle is curt by nature. Don’t take it personally.”

The old man called “Jacques” bowed apologetically in Elisabeth’s place. He had two bridles his hand. Naturally, at the end of these were connected two horses. “The mansion beyond that ridge over there is our destination. The horses know the way. Well, then, on your way.” Benimaru and Duo Lon, having been advised to be on their way, were once again looking up at the muscular physiques of the two horses.

“Horses.”

“Yup, horses.”

It was well after sunrise when the two men walked up to Blanctorche Manor with the bridles of the two horses in hand.

Ikari Team
English: http://kofaniv.snk-corp.co.jp/english/history/kofxi_story/index.php?num=ikari

Japanese: http://game.snk-corp.co.jp/official/kof-xi/

Over a dozen soldiers in full dress gather at the graveyard on the city outskirts in the midst of a sudden downpour. A coffin and the deep hole it’s destined to rest in have been readied as a passage from the bible is solemnly read from.

“No matter how they’re performed, I hate funerals. You with me, Clark?” Ralf whispered at a level scarcely audible through the noise of the rain. “Especially for a fellow contractor.” Clark removed his sunglasses, revealing the wistful expression on his face. The two had a long association. Ralf tacitly understood what Clark was about to say.

The man supposed to by lying in the coffin had been 59 at the time of his death. He was at an age that had he lived a normal life, he’d probably have had a wife, children, maybe a grandchild or two, and would soon be ready for a carefree retirement. In actuality, though, he had been lugging explosives around the world’s hot spots until the time of his death. He most likely had no family, and even if he did spent most of his accursed life away from them. That, or he had soon separated from his family, having been driven violent by the horrors of war, and led a solitary life. And at this funeral, life’s final ceremony, the only person who was not a soldier among the attendees turned out to be the priest. The priest closed his bible, and in his place the soldier leading the ceremonies gave the order.

“For the soul the brave of a brave soldier cut down in battle, Jim Oldgate…”

The tone of his voice was undeniably one of grief for his fallen comrade, but the quality of his practiced delivery suggested he had sent off a number of men up till this point.

“Saaa-lute!”

Barring the priest, everyone in attendance raised their right hand in perfect unison. Included in the front row along with Heidern stood Ralf, Clark, Whip and Leona. Whip held a small white flower in her left hand.

Only his dog tag and that white flower were placed in the coffin. The flower in Whip’s hand was a favourite of the departed. His actual remains, however, had been blown all over the battlefield, impossible to retrieve

When the salute ended, the coffin was placed into the ground and buried. The soil soaked by the rain fell on top of the coffin, producing mercilessly loud thuds. Once the work had ended, the soldiers dispersed alone or in tight groups.

“Ralf, Clark, a word, please.”

The one-eyed man dressed in a formal uniform of the first rank called Ralf, Clark and Whip to stop.

“I’m going to have you three join KOF again this year. And, naturally, this is an order.”

It was just as they had predicted. But the exclusion of Leona weighed on their minds. Must be due to the fact that…

“The group calling themselves ‘Mukai’ are not the actual Orochi Hakesshu. That is obvious.”

This confirmed Ralf’s very fears, and not only that Heidern continued, “However…” It’s almost certain that they’re trying to exploit the power of the Orochi in some form. In the previous tournament they succeeded in unleashing the Orochi, perhaps as the first step toward that end. Under that influence, Leona had temporarily lapsed into unconsciousness. It would be a rather difficult task to return her to normal.

And there’s one more thing to worry about.

“Commander, I think it may have something to do with this mission but…”

“What is it?”

“It’s about the giant airship we reported to you during our mission directly before our participation in the previous tournament. I thought some details remained unclear.” The one-eyed mercenary replied without a change in his expression or the tone of his voice.

“…We’re still looking into that matter.”

“Is that so? I couldn’t get it out of my head, being such a peculiar incident.

“You’ll be briefed if we learn any details. Meanwhile, concentrate on your new mission.”

“Yes, sir.”

“The infiltration party will consist of you three―Ralf, Clark, and Whip. Dismissed.”

The three stood at rigid attention as they watched Heidern walk off. The first one to break the ice was Whip.

“Well, there’s something you don’t see too often, huh Captain?”

“What’s that?”

“Commander Heidern lied to us.”

“…So?”

“What do you mean, ‘So?’” snapped Whip, not making an effort to hide her displeasure. Whip went on to explain that the ones putting their lives on the line for this covert investigation were themselves. If they weren’t going to receive the information they needed, just who would be taking the greater risk?

“Whippy, do you know the name of that flower you’re holding?”

It was the last one remaining from the funeral offering. In Japanese it’s called a “kobushi,” a flower of the magnoliaceae family.

“Yeah…it’s a magnolia.”

“In the language of flowers, that’s ‘trust.’ Just how long do you think Clark and I have been with the Commander? If he decides there’s no need to tell us something, he won’t.” Whip still had something she wanted to say but managed to suppress the urge.

“Even so…” It was Clark who had up till now kept his silence, but his eyes twinkled behind his sunglasses.

“I can’t believe Ralf actually used the expression ‘in the language of flowers.’”

※ ※

The laughter of Ralf and the others faintly reached the ears of Heidern, who had put some distance between himself and the graveyard. This time Heidern was supposed to lead quite…perhaps a force the size of a small country’s. It was certain that he was keenly aware of the weight of his responsibility, but there was another reason beside that for his melancholy. (Adelheid…. Surely that was the name of that young man.)

Leona was close nearby. The silent girl soldier made no attempt to brush back her blue hair dampened by the rain. (You are not the only one to suffer from the fate of your bloodline…)