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Post by Deleted on Jul 1, 2021 22:59:29 GMT
YOU'RE SO COOL! < > denotes foreign language translation. Crash. An audible gasp.
And then a low, simmering rumble.
It resonates from deep in the heart of the Tokyo Dome before growing in intensity, evolving into a powerful roar of emotions. Normally reserved and respectful, the Japanese fans in attendance throw caution to the wind as they wildly cheer the most popular joshi competitor to come along in over a decade. The arena shakes, threatening to collapse around them with every scream, every clap, every stomp... but they don't care.
As a matter of fact, they welcome it.
They welcome the challenge of overcoming death.
Because Angel Kandori has made them believe they can.
The three count is registered and a flurry of pink and white streamers fly over the entire ringside area. The arena comes unglued. No one inside the ring is visible beneath layers upon layers of streamers until Kandori stands up, tears in her eyes, struggling and tearing away at the pink and white paper strands, and weighed down by the punishment endured against her former tag team partner turned rival, Devil Matsumoto. As ringside attendants rush to clean up the mess surrounding the ring, a man in track pants and a black t-shirt climbs into the ring and approaches Kandori with a large bouquet. She greets him with a smile and accepts the gift--
The television shuts off without warning.
Sitting in the floor, only a foot away from the television, eight-year-old Junko Souma looks away from the television and her bowl of noodles and up at the smiling face of her father. Dressed in a suit that is faded and worn, he looks down at his daughter from behind thick glasses that barely hang on to his gaunt features and narrow head. He gently pats the television and speaks with a high pitched, childish tone that he likely means to appeal to his child with.
FATHER: < This is too violent for you, Junko. >
He clicks his crooked yellow teeth and shakes his head.
FATHER: < Yes, yes. It is much too violent, so it will go away now, okay? >
Her eyes are drawn to the yellowed edges along the cuffs of his button-up white shirt, peeking out from beneath his tired brown jacket. Even at eight years old, she knew that her father had suffered an unimaginably terrible fate. He had become something no Japanese man wishes to become...
A salary man.
Seconds later, her mother shuffled into the room in a blue robe decorated with cherry blossoms. Smiling ear to ear, she knelt next to Junko and placed her hand on her shoulder, gripping her more tightly than she probably meant to. She looked into her mother's eyes and saw nothing behind them.
MOTHER: < Fighting is not an admirable career for a girl. You should not want to be like them. They do not bring honor to their families. >
With her other hand, she offers Junko an oversized blue echo microphone. Junko looks down at it quizzically, not understanding at first. Her father feigns excitement from above.
FATHER: < Surprise! >
Her mother tightens her grip on her shoulder, still smiling.
MOTHER: < You will sing, okay? >
FATHER: < Singing is fun! >
MOTHER: < There is a man who will visit us tonight. You will sing for him and you must do very well. He is very powerful. If you do well and listen, he can make you the most famous idol singer in all of Japan! >
JUNKO SOUMA: < I do not want to sing. >
Junko looks down at the echo microphone in her hand and allows it to fall to the floor next to her bowl of noodles with an audible and reverberating thunk. She looks up at her mother, pouting.
JUNKO SOUMA: < I want to pro-wrestle like Kandori Angel. >
Her father swallows hard and uses one crooked finger to pull at his collar, feeling the temperature in the room change on a dime. His mouth twitches as he tries to maintain his smile. Junko's mother digs her thumb into her shoulder and narrows her eyes, no longer pretending that there is an option. Junko winces in pain.
MOTHER: < You are a selfish and ugly little rat. >
Junko's eyes well up with tears.
MOTHER: < I have not raised you to be this selfish. >
Still gripping her shoulder, she pushes Junko away from her... hard. The child's flailing arm knocks over the bowl of noodles. Junko looks up at her mother, crying. She touches her shoulder and does her best to rub the pain away. Surprised by the sudden and violent gesture, her father falls to his knees to check on her. Standing, her mother looks down at them both with disdain.
MOTHER: < Pathetic. >
She turns and walks to the door before placing her hand on the frame and looking over her shoulder at them. Her voice is cold and lifeless.
MOTHER: < King Kota will be here soon. You will sing for him. >
Looking away from them, toward the room in front of her, her next words are barely above a whisper but Junko hears them clearly and never forgets them for the rest of her life.
MOTHER: < ...or you will spend the rest of your life wishing you had. I will make sure of it. >
Her father tries to embrace her, to comfort her, but she pushes him away and runs into her room nearby, slamming the door. Sitting with her back against the door, she hugs her knees and tears stream down her face. She can hear her mother and father arguing. She thinks about the man she will have to sing for and panic threatens to burn a hole in her chest.
She wonders what Angel Kandori would do.It's night.
The dojo is bathed in darkness.
Hideo Chiba, clad in track pants and a dirty white t-shirt, throws a black garbage bag over his shoulder and crosses the brown mat toward the exit. Empty cans clink in unison with every heavy, shuffling step. He steps over Junko Souma, lying in the center of the mat, her features illuminated by the light of her cell phone. She sits bolt upright, a look of repulsion on her face, as liquid dribbles from Hideo's garbage bag and onto her shirt as he passes over. Dropping her phone on the mat, she looks down at her shirt and then back up at Chiba as he opens the door and stands there, looking out at the street. A car horn honks in the distance, a cartoonish "AWOOGA" sound. She uses both hands to wipe down the front of her shirt and sneers with disgust as the smell hits her.
Foster's.
His favorite drink since relocating to Manchester.
JUNKO SOUMA: < Jerk! >
Chiba slowly turns his head and looks at her. He sounds disinterested.
HIDEO CHIBA: < Are you coming or what? I will not wait all day. >
She glares at him, an almost comical parody of anger.
JUNKO SOUMA: < Look at what you have done! >
His eyes narrow and then he huffs. He sounds tired.
HIDEO CHIBA: < You are worried about your shirt. You should worry about the beating you will take soon. Crimson Lotus will not care if your shirt is dirty. >
He snorts and spits out the open door.
HIDEO CHIBA: < She will just kick you in the face and win. >
He lets that hang in the air for a moment and then punctuates it.
HIDEO CHIBA: < You have a face that is good for kicking. >
She picks up her phone and stands, shoving it into the waistband of her bright blue athletic shorts. Clenching her fists, her voice is sharp and echoes off the walls of the shabby dojo.
JUNKO SOUMA: < You also said I would lose to Ashely Phoenix, teacher. >
She purses her lips and tilts her head back, staring down her nose at him. He simply stares right back at her, holding the garbage bag over his shoulder. It continues to clink and crunch as the cans inside shift and settle. He doesn't seem to care that the back of his pants have become soaked by the same leak that set her off. Placing her hands on her hips, she continues to speak with confidence.
JUNKO SOUMA: < But I did not lose. I won! >
He grimaces, showing off his crooked teeth.
HIDEO CHIBA: < You got lucky. This time will be different. >
He looks away from Junko and shakes his head slightly. There's a tinge of disgust in his voice.
HIDEO CHIBA: < Ashely Phoenix was reckless and stupid. That is why she lost. Any competitor with skill and intuition could defeat you. Crimson Lotus, more experience. Stronger fighter. Also, Chinese. That means she is sneaky and will cheat to win. >
Junko folds her arms across her chest, raising an eyebrow.
JUNKO SOUMA: < Your words dance closely to hate, teacher. >
Without a word or any indication of how her words affect him, he removes the garbage bag from over his shoulder and chucks it toward the trash cans outside. It narrowly misses, hanging on a jagged metal lip and tearing open. The sound of cans spilling onto the ground is deafening. Chiba shakes his head and turns to look at her. His words are straight forward and his voice is gruff, raspy.
HIDEO CHIBA: < I do not trust Chinese. >
Junko's demeanor softens as Chiba's words sit in the air. Lowering her arms to her sides, she takes a breath and responds to him. Her voice no longer carries the defiance it did only seconds before.
JUNKO SOUMA: < Xinya Lien is a stranger in a strange land-- >
She swallows hard, hoping Chiba understands.
JUNKO SOUMA: < --like me. >
He stares blankly at her, not understanding or choosing not to.
JUNKO SOUMA: < I was hoping that we could be friends. >
HIDEO CHIBA: < No friends. >
She bows her head and sighs.
HIDEO CHIBA: < Let's go. >
He holds the door open and gestures toward the street outside.
HIDEO CHIBA: < It is late. We have much training to do tomorrow. Even if you are destined to lose, with enough training, you might still leave with your life. >
She approaches the door, looking down at the brown mat beneath her feet. She cuts her eyes toward him as she passes him on the way out the door.
JUNKO SOUMA: < You are not funny. >
HIDEO CHIBA: < No joke. Deadly serious. >
He closes the door behind them and clicks the padlock in place.
Junko is wide awake.
She can hear Hideo snoring in the next room.
There is a clatter of empty cans as he shifts and knocks them over. She can hear them roll across the hard wood floor before coming to a stop at the thin wall which separates their tiny rooms. Her room is bare with filthy walls that once were white, and her bed is a simple twin size mattress lying on the wood floor. Her coarse tan blanket is crumpled up next to the mattress and her head rests on a dirty looking blue and white striped pillow. Lying flat on her back, she holds her phone over her face, scrolling with her thumb.
The clock on her phone reads 2am but she isn't tired. As a matter of fact, she hasn't even thought about sleeping since they returned to the rickety apartment that Bob Mitchell put them up in. Her eyes dart back and forth, up and down as she surfs the internet and devours every drop of information that she can find about Lien Xinya.
"You're so cool, you're so cool, you're so cool!" She smiles warmly as she finds photographs of Xinya posing with bamboo swords and performing amazing feats in the world of martial arts. Her eyes light up when she discovers something she didn't expect.
"She can breathe fire, too?!" Lowering her phone, she holds it close to her chest with both hands.
"Maybe teacher is right... maybe I am in over my head. I do not breathe fire or know Chinese kung fu. I've never even driven a car! I was a fool for thinking we could be friends. Why would anyone as awesome and cute as Xinya Lien want to be friends with me?" She sighs and raises one of her hands, placing the back of it against her forehead.
"Maybe I could sing for her. I am a very good singer!" She frowns as a feeling of whimsy comes over her.
"No, that would be stupid. Singing to bring honor to my family is what brought me here. That is in my past now thanks to teacher. I must leave that path hidden behind me. I am not a singer anymore." A single tear falls from the corner of her eye and is lost in the dark.
"I pro-wrestle now." She takes a deep breath.
"I must win Xinya Lien over with my attacks in the ring. I must fight hard and try my best. That is the only way I can earn her respect. That is the only way that I can convince her that I am worthy of being her friend--" She purses her lips tightly as she thinks it over.
"--but teacher says that I should not be friends with her. Oh no! What am I supposed to do? We are kindred spirits, I think. He says I should not trust Chinese but that is stupid. You can not think like that, Junko! Okay?" She lifts her phone back up and smiles at what she sees.
"I wonder if she will teach me how to breathe fire?" Junko turns over on her side, biting her bottom lip as she looks at her phone. Eventually, without realizing it, sleep crept up on her and she was whisked away.
In her dream, she sang.
She flew, and she breathed fire.
But most of all--
--she hoped. Purple.
So much purple.
King Kota's three piece suit is dripping with it. Bright, shiny purple emblazoned with golden dragons. His pompadour shines in the buzzing overhead light, greased back and sculpted to perfection. The room is nothing to write home about. The walls are dirty and green, lined with lockers on one side. Standing on either side of the only exit, two men in suits... one is fat and bald, the other has a flat top but hasn't earned his cool scar just yet.
Two girls stand side by side in sailor-style schoolgirl outfits. Primarily white but with different colored trim. Junko wears blue, the girl next to her with bright orange hair is fittingly in orange. Only days removed from their families, they watch nervously as King Kota grabs a cafeteria style plastic chair with metal legs and drags it along the concrete floor. The metal scrapes and screeches along as he drags it within a few feet of the young girls and turns it around before sitting on it backward and resting his forearms against the back of the chair. It bends and warps ever so slightly beneath his weight. He smiles and a single gold tooth flickers in the light.
He uses his pinky, adorned with a large purple-jeweled ring, to pick at his teeth. He pulls his pinky away and observes his findings before holding his pinky up in the air. The fat and bald man approaches and wipes Kota's pinky clean with a black handkerchief before stuffing it in his pocket and returning to his position at the door. Kota looks the girls over and chuckles.
KING KOTA: < I like the outfits. So cool, man. >
He reaches into his jacket and removes a bottle of pills. He uses his thumb to remove the lid with an audible pop before turning it up and dumping at least nine white pills into his mouth. He chews them aggressively until foam begins to form at the corner of his mouth. Eyeing both girls with wide bloodshot eyes, he smiles again. They can see the crumbled pills between his lips and teeth, resting on his tongue as he fights the taste to swallow them down dry. He points at them with another ringed finger, this one all gold.
KING KOTA: < You two are young and talented. You will be huge stars. Junko and Hanako. The kids will love you. Trust me, I am King Kota. I know what is cool. I am very hip. >
He tilts his head back and thinks it over.
KING KOTA: < As a matter of fact, Junko and Hanako does not have a good ring to it. What if we change it? That would be cool. Stage names! I am a genius. What about-- >
He raises both ring covered hands and holds them in front of him as though he's reading the names on a marquee.
KING KOTA: < J-N-K and H-N-K! AH!? HA HA! THAT IS IT! >
He stands up and aggressively kicks the chair behind him without even looking. He bends at the waist and looks at both girls, smiling. He makes sure to look each of them in the eye.
KING KOTA: < We just take away vowels but still pronounce them like they are there. Very smart. That is why I am in charge, okay? What do you think about your new names? Do you like them? >
Hanako quickly bows, averting her eyes.
HANAKO TOHEI: < I like my new name, Kota-san. >
He looks at Junko and she looks down at the floor.
JUNKO SOUMA: < It is very cool, Kota-san. >
He scratches his chin and looks troubled.
KING KOTA: < I do not sense excitement. You two should be fired up. You should be bouncing off the walls. I do not like this. You two have nothing to fear. You are here to make music and be huge stars. No one will hurt you. No one will touch you. >
He reaches into his jacket and removes a gold and silver plated pistol with dragon designs along the barrel. He holds the weapon up and looks it over. Both girls watch with wide eyes as he waves the weapon around.
KING KOTA: < Because if they do, I will blow their fucking brains out, okay? >
He kneels back down and places his finger under Junko's chin. He raises her face up to meet his gaze. He smiles and that gold tooth flickers in the light again.
KING KOTA: < That is a King Kota promise. >
She nods and he stands up, looking down at them.
KING KOTA: < Now, go play. Become best friends. >
He turns his back to them and walks toward the exit. He calls out over his shoulder.
KING KOTA: < Nothing is more important than friends. >
As the girls watch Kota approach the door, they look at one another, then Hanako reaches for Junko's hand. Junko accepts the gesture and they stand there in silence, holding hands. The fat bald man follows Kota out the door, leaving flat top to babysit. Flat top walks to a nearby locker and opens it up, removing a red ball. He tosses it across the room and it rolls to a stop at Junko's white sneakers. Flat top nods toward them.
FLAT TOP: < Go play. >
He rights the cafeteria chair that Kota discarded and takes a seat. He sits in silence and stares at the concrete floor between his feet. Junko and Hanako look at one another and then at the ball at their feet.
The silence is deafening.
The sound of friendship. |
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Post by Deleted on Jul 5, 2021 19:33:15 GMT
I HOPE YOU LIKE ME! < > denotes foreign language translation. Teacher will not approve of this.
That is the thought that continues to force itself to the center of her mind. It fights and claws, chews and scratches, recklessly disrupting Junko Souma's more peaceful thoughts like a bull made from black and red smoke in a china shop, but the china is her memories, her emotions, her peace of mind... shattered on the floor and stomped on.
Turned to dust.
The anxiety in her chest burns at such a level that it threatens to incinerate her from the inside out. Still, the grass beneath her feet lightly crunches as she quietly paces across Werneth Low, alone for the first time since arriving in Manchester with her sensei, Hideo Chiba... alone with her thoughts, taking time against his wishes to figure out where she stands at this early stage in her career and, more importantly, where she stands on the subject of--
--friends.
Using an online translator, she secured transportation to Werneth Low and her mind immediately turned to how Chiba would feel about this disobedience. She knows how he feels about outsiders, foreigners, people who call themselves "friend."
Still, Junko wants to believe that there is meaning in friendship, that there is good in everyone. This time to herself is important... it is important for her to reconcile her emotions with Hideo Chiba's wishes. The gruff, raspy tone of his voice chastised her during the ride, no matter how hard she tried to stifle it with music.
"There are those who wish to do us harm, Junko-chan. Do not trust anyone... these foreigners especially. I am the only one you can trust. I am the only one who will never leave you. That is a promise."
What little of the sky she can see behind the clouds is murky blue. The clouds themselves are gray and strung out, pulled thin across the murky blue canvas. There's a hint of rain, a drop here and there, but the humidity is just enough to make her feel sticky and gross. Dressed in black track pants and an "IIW" t-shirt with Chiba's oversized khaki green jacket held tight to her small frame, she wanders aimlessly in the 18 degree Celsius weather before coming to a stop. She can feel the light breeze on her face as she looks North West from the Low. Looking over the Manchester city centre, she feels her anxiety begin to soften.
And though it softens, it does not go away.
It stays a while longer, making just enough ruckus that she doesn't forget it's there. But the view helps... it helps a lot, actually. Seeing Manchester from this spot, she can't hear the noise, she isn't surrounded by foreigners--
--wait, no... she is the foreigner here--
Natives. She isn't surrounded by natives.
And most importantly, she doesn't have Chiba in her ear, imparting his lessons. This is the break she needs-- and yet her mind continues to wander into that anxious territory, wondering what Chiba will say-- what he will do when he finds out that she escaped his watchful eye for a field trip as a stranger in a strange land.
The breeze carries a light mist of rain which dampens her features. She wipes her nose with the sleeve of Chiba's jacket and looks out at the city centre. The sun does its best to fight through the clouds, thin rays of sunshine penetrating the cool mist setting over the Low. She pulls the jacket even tighter around her, not because she needs warmth but just because--
--it's something.
"Xinya Lien... hear my words, okay?"
We, too, hear her words in Japanese.
The translation appears in white text.
Her eyes narrow, becoming watery as the wind whips at her face. She bites her bottom lip and doesn't let her gaze fall from the centre below. Junko clearly has a lot on her mind, despite doing her best to present a stoic demeanor.
"This is only my third professional match but I am undefeated. However, you are my most experienced challenger to date. Teacher has much doubt in his mind that I can defeat you. You are a warrior... you are a real warrior, and that is so cool, even if it intimidates me."
She exhales deeply and looks up at the sky. The clouds slowly drift, causing beams of sunlight to dance over the Low and the city centre beyond, like concentrated lasers illuminating specific targets below.
"I am not ashamed to admit that I am nervous as we draw closer to this match. Your history is so rich and your adventures are well-told, but I cannot allow myself to succumb to defeat before we have even locked eyes from across the ring. My stomach hurts when I think about our match because I know that you will test me. I know that you will try to push me beyond my limit. In photographs, I can see your will and determination in your eyes."
Lowering her hands to her sides, Chiba's jacket falls open revealing the stylish blue IIW logo emblazoned across the front of her t-shirt.
"You are filled with fighting spirit."
She clenches her fists at her sides, pursing her lips tightly.
"My journey has not been as adventurous as yours. My training has not been as intense as yours. You bring cool fire and martial arts to the battlefield while I bring the hopes and dreams of a little girl."
Stray drops of rain carried by the wind fall across her left eye and rest on her cheek, mimicking tears as they roll downward and stop at her jawline.
"When I was brought here, it was my dream to become a number one wrestler. I knew the journey would be difficult, but my goal was a very simple one... I will do my best, become stronger, learn new moves, and then become the Intense International Wrestling Women's World Champion... but now, my dream has changed."
Between the humidity and the sparse rain, several strands of Junko's hair cling to her forehead. She averts her eyes from the city centre and looks down at the grass between her white sneakers--
--trainers, they call them trainers here.
"Now, I have the opportunity to become the Queen of the Ring. This is not an opportunity that I expected to have presented to me. Teacher does not think I will win this tournament. He does not even think I will get past you, Xinya Lien. Maybe I won't. I cannot predict the future... but it is every little girl's dream to hold a beautiful crown and call herself the queen."
Still looking down at the vibrant green beneath her, the corner of her mouth twitches slightly, the beginnings of a smile. The mere thought of being able to call herself queen--
"In this regard, I am no different."
--it fills her with excitement.
"You might ask, why do I want to become queen so badly when it is something I did not even know existed until a short time ago... and the answer is not a simple one. Sometimes in life, you do not know what your dreams really are until you are in danger of losing them."
The formation of that smile ceases. She looks up into the sky once again and uses the back of her hand to brush the sticky hair away from her forehead. She takes a breath and walks a few steps further, bringing herself closer to the centre and taking in the vision below. She thinks about what Chiba would say if he found her here.
"All of my life, I have been told how to dream and what I should want. I have always had my limitations held over my head... even by the ones who were supposed to protect me. My dream is to become a number one wrestler. To do that, I must become the Intense International Wrestling Women's World Champion... and to get closer to that goal, I must become Queen of the Ring."
She reaches into her jacket pocket and removes her cell phone. Unlocking the screen, she has no missed calls, no missed text messages. He hasn't noticed she is gone--
--or he doesn't care--
--no, he cares.
She isn't so stupid as to think he doesn't care.
"That means I must defeat you, Xinya Lien. The only way that I can achieve my dream is to prove everyone wrong. Everyone doubts me... I will even admit that I feel the pain of doubt myself... but I can not let that stop me from doing what must be done. I will train harder. I will fight and do my best. I will show the world what I am capable of... and if I win, I will continue through the field until I may hopefully call myself queen."
Breathing a sigh of relief, she places the phone back inside her pocket. Tilting her head to the side, she cuts her eyes upward at the sky, studying the clouds. She observes one that looks like a giant dog... she loves dogs, and she thinks about how cool it would be if she could reach out and pet it.
"And if I lose... if I lose, I will be very sad."
Extending her arm outward, she reaches for the sky.
"Teacher says that a warrior's purpose is to win... but he says that I am not a warrior yet. He says that there is much pain to endure before I may call myself a warrior."
Smiling halfheartedly, she sighs and lowers her hand as the dog drifts further into the distance, dispersing slowly until he's just another strung out, white and gray mess in the sky. Inconsequential as he was, she silently makes note that she will never forget him.
"I do not like pain, though I accept that it is necessary to suffer in order to grow and become stronger. I did not expect to receive this opportunity so soon in my education. I know I do not deserve it... but I want it all the same. Xinya Lien, I am going to give you everything I have. I will show you everything that I have been taught, everything I know. It is my hope that it will be enough... and if it is not, I hope it is enough to earn your respect."
There's a rumble from above and it dawns on her that she should leave before the weather becomes worse. Taking one last look out over the city centre, she places her hands in her pockets and turns away from it, walking toward the nearest path.
"To stand next to a warrior like you as an equal would be a reward in itself."
She looks around her as she walks away, taking in the scenery, relishing the calming green surrounding her as she passes it by. Removing one hand from a pocket, she holds her hand out, briskly touching the leaves of nearby bushes and trees. They are cool on her skin.
"I can not wait to meet you, Xinya Lien."
It has been a long time since she has felt so free.
"I will see you soon."
Her smile is genuine.
"I hope you like me."
As slowly as she walks away, the clouds swallow the sun, doing their very best to obscure it completely. A shadow is cast over Junko as she steps onto the path and walks away.
The sun refuses to be silenced, piercing the veil.
Junko finds her path home illuminated by the friscalating dusklight.
Months earlier.
Bob Mitchell's office.
The room is cramped and messy, reeking of old fast food sitting in a trash can that hasn't been emptied in weeks. Mitchell leans back in his desk chair, staring across the cluttered desk in front of him through thick glasses which make his eyes look gigantic to the man sitting across from him. Mitchell rubs his greasy sausage fingers together as he eyes Hideo Chiba, not even trying to hide how unimpressed he is by the deathmatch competitor.
To be fair, Chiba doesn't appear to be impressed either, leaning back in his own chair, a stiff wooden number, while clad in baggy black pants and a black t-shirt that doesn't appear to have been washed... ever. Hiding his eyes behind a pair of aviator shades, Chiba could easily be mistaken for sleeping during this meeting with one of the most important men in Intense International Wrestling. Chiba's hands rest flat on his stomach, on either side of a stain that is either ketchup, blood, or both.
Bob Mitchell picks up a pen and taps it on his desk.
BOB MITCHELL: I don't like it. Uh-uh... not one bit.
Chiba doesn't even flinch. He sits perfectly still.
BOB MITCHELL: Personally, I don't think we have room on Mayhem for a guy like you. With everything I got going on right now, the last thing I need is somebody like you runnin' around and settin' shit on fire, damaging my property, damaging my WRESTLERS... it's a libility.
He plants one of his sweaty sausage fingers on the desk, grinding the tip into the wood as he seethes out the words past his thick wet lips. Spittle flies from his mouth along with the words.
BOB MITCHELL: ...it's a liability, I say.
He huffs and reaches into his desk drawer. There's a crinkle of plastic wrap before his hand emerges from the drawer clutching Party Rings and Custard Creams. He sets them on the desk in front of him and immediately takes a bite of one of the Party Rings. Obnoxiously breathing heavily as he chews, he shakes his head.
BOB MITCHELL: ...but, all the kids on the Twitter machine... they know you're here, they want us to book you and hell, why not? The transition from Osh Vaughan to me ain't been stressful enough, I guess.
He holds up a Custard Cream between two fat fingers.
BOB MITCHELL: I mean, damn, look at what I'm doin' to myself tryin' to cope! Custard Cream, Party Rings, Shortcake! Jesus Christ! Where's the good stuff over here-- HEY!
A light bulb goes off in his head.
BOB MITCHELL: I get you in here, maybe you can help us get our foot in the door in Japan. You got connections over there, right? Big shot legend that you are. Huh? What do ya' say?
Chiba just stares right back at him, no-selling the false enthusiasm. Chiba's voice is low, raspy, more of a growl than an actual voice.
HIDEO CHIBA: No.
Mitchell shoves a Custard Cream into his mouth and rests his elbows on the desk in front of him. He reaches up and pulls down the red tie around his neck, loosening it. His face is turning red.
BOB MITCHELL: What do you mean "no," Chiba? Are you even understanding what I'm saying? I'm offering you a spot, a good spot, a high-paying spot! And all I'm askin' for in return is maybe you kick a few doors down in the Land of the Rising Sun. I don't think that's too big of an ask for a guy that showed up at MY doorstep lookin' for a job!
Chiba reaches into his pocket and removes a cigarette. He puts it in his mouth, allowing it to hang on his bottom lip. Bob Mitchell's face goes from red to impossibly even redder.
BOB MITCHELL: Hey, now! There's no smokin' in here, son!
Chiba removes a silver lighter from his pocket and flicks the lid open with his thumb. The flame dances in the reflection of his aviators.
HIDEO CHIBA: No... job.
He lights the cigarette and puts the lighter back in his pocket. Bob Mitchell is fuming as he stares across his desk at the The Man Who Brings Rain of Blood. Chiba puffs on the cigarette aggressively until there's a cloud of smoke all around him. Mitchell exhales deeply, eyes nearly bugging out of his head.
BOB MITCHELL: No job? Then what do ya' want, huh? I can't help but start to feel like my time is bein' wasted and I assure you that I am not the kinda' guy who likes to be jerked around--
Chiba reaches into his back pocket and removes a photograph. He places it on the desk in front of Mitchell. Confused, Mitchell fumbles while picking the photo up before finally seizing it between his sweaty fingers. He rights the photo in his hand and looks it over. Chiba puffs on the cigarette and points at the photo in his hand.
HIDEO CHIBA: ...girl.
BOB MITCHELL: Yeah, I can see that. The question is--
He turns the photo around toward Chiba, revealing the smiling photo of Junko Souma wearing cat ears. She's posing next to the statue of Emmeline Pankhurst in St. Peter's Square.
BOB MITCHELL: --WHY am I seein' it?!
HIDEO CHIBA: ...I tuh-rain.
Mitchell places the photo on the desk in front of him. He looks down at it and huffs. Without even looking back up at Chiba, his voice alone says he isn't interested.
BOB MITCHELL: ...you train.
He slides the photo across the desk with one finger.
BOB MITCHELL: Who says I need another green girl on my roster? The women's division is struggling enough as it is--
HIDEO CHIBA: I-uh work... free.
BOB MITCHELL: The way it sounds, you don't work at all.
With limited English at his disposal, Chiba pushes the words out as best he can.
HIDEO CHIBA: Pay... girl... little.
Chiba takes the final puffs on the cigarette and stubs it out on Mitchell's desk. Mitchell looks down at the ashy mess and shakes his head. He looks back up at Chiba. Using his hand to wave the smoke out of his face, you can tell he's trying his best but it's just not happening.
BOB MITCHELL: I just don't think we're gonna meet in the middle on this one, okay? It's been a good talk-- well, hell no, it hasn't but I appreciate you makin' the trip even if it was for nothin', alright? So, stand up, let's shake hands like gentlemen and get you outta' here and on your way--
Mitchell stands up but Chiba remains seated. Chiba removes his shades and hangs them in the collar of his t-shirt. His eyes are puffy and bloodshot. He looks up at Mitchell and huffs. He averts his eyes, looking down at the messy floor beneath his feet. His voice is barely above a whisper but just as growly as before.
HIDEO CHIBA: ...you sign girl... pay--
His voice rises, more authority behind it.
HIDEO CHIBA: --pay GOOD...
He looks back up at Mitchell, who now appears interested.
HIDEO CHIBA: ...I... get you... Japan.
The smile on Bob Mitchell's fat face couldn't be removed with a sand blaster.
BOB MITCHELL: Mr. Chiba, that's all you had to say!
He claps his hands together and the sound echoes in the room.
BOB MITCHELL: Hot dog! I can't wait to meet her!
Mitchell picks up his phone and walks out of the room, closing the door behind him with an incredible amount of pep in his step. Hideo Chiba remains seated, staring straight ahead at the window behind Mitchell's desk.
He thought about the girl listening to J-Pop in the car outside.
He thought about the girl who trusted him with her future... her dream.
He would do anything for her... even dishonor his word with a lie.
Japan would never be an option.
Not for him.
Not for her.
Not ever.
Darkness.
A smattering of rain.
Day has fully succumbed to night by the time Junko's Uber returns her to the flat she shares with Hideo Chiba. Junko does her best to shut the rear passenger side door without making a noise, pushing on it until she hears the dull click of the door latching in place. She looks back at the driver, an overweight and mostly toothless man in a plaid flat cap, and offers him a slight bow. Shaking his head, he drives away without acknowledging her, awkwardly swerving and hitting a row of metal trash cans, suitably undoing her effort to return in silence.
She enters the flat, using the key she lifted from Chiba's bag. The room is dark and smells of alcohol. Before she even takes her first step, she can hear Chiba snoring in his bedroom. Removing her phone from her pocket once again, she notes that she has no missed calls or text messages. The light from the phone illuminates her cautious face as she takes a few more steps into the room. Chiba violently saws logs and only stops when she steps on an empty beer can, crushing it loudly. Standing completely still, she waits.
And waits.
And waits.
And waits some more.
He begins snoring once again, even louder than before.
Breathing a sigh of relief, she uses the light produced from her phone to navigate toward her bedroom. Once inside, she closes the door and sheds her jacket and trainers. Resting on the edge of her mattress, she breathes a sigh of relief and falls back on her pillow. Setting her phone down next to the mattress, she stares up at the ceiling, what little she can see of it in the darkness.
Light from street lamps outside penetrates the flimsy gray curtain, allowing shadows to bend and sway and contort as the curtain shifts with air flow in the room. She looks for shapes in the dancing shadows... she hopes to find a dragon or a lotus flower, then she remembers the dog in the clouds. She smiles ear to ear.
She can't help it.
This isn't the first time she snuck away from the person protecting her.
But it is the first time she came back. Two years ago.
Two sixteen year olds.
It's pouring down in Japan.
There's a sound of thunder as Junko Souma and Hanako Tohei work frantically to leverage open a narrow window near the ceiling. Both girls stand on a wobbly cafeteria style chair, struggling for room, struggling against the glass that's just slightly above them. Panic is thick in the air and they whimper with anxiety as they push against the glass, praying for any semblance of give. Hanako's hands slip and slide against the glass because of the blood.
Hanako's hands are covered in it, dripping and oily slick.
JUNKO SOUMA: < It will not open! We will be caught! >
They exchange a look and Hanako narrows her eyes, refusing the idea of being captured and taken back to her room. Curling her upper lip, she pushes Junko off the chair, sending her to the concrete below. Junko looks up from her seated position on the floor with surprise.
JUNKO SOUMA: < That hurt! What are you-- >
Before she can finish her sentence, Hanako hops down and picks up the chair, ramming the metal legs into the glass and shattering it. Taking a few extra seconds to clear the debris with the leg, she has created a safe passage to the outside world. Rain drifts in from outside, wetting the interior wall. Hanako rights the chair and extends her hand to Junko.
HANAKO TOHEI: < Come on. We do not have time to sit around! >
Junko takes Hanako's hand, feeling her own become slick with viscous red fluid. Hanako pulls her to her feet and ushers her quickly onto the chair. Junko looks at Hanako and then at the window, feeling real genuine fear.
HANAKO TOHEI: < You will go first and then I will follow, okay? >
They can hear footsteps coming from the hallway... men, moving quickly. Gruff voices shouting at one another in Japanese follow. Hanako looks at Junko, who is trembling uncontrollably.
HANAKO TOHEI: < Go! Now! >
Junko hops and Hanako helps push her up, stepping onto the chair to give her an extra boost. A stray shard of glass catches Junko's blue and white sailor fuku and rips the skirt, catching her thigh in the process. A trickle of blood flows down past her knee. She cries out in pain before sliding the rest of the way out. From the basement level, she lands only a few inches down on pavement outside the window. She cries out as she touches the wound on her thigh. Within seconds, she's drenched by rain falling from the night sky. She turns back to the window and sees Hanako struggling to climb up, reaching for Junko with fear in her eyes.
The men's voices are louder.
HANAKO TOHEI: < Junko-chan! Help me! >
JUNKO SOUMA: < I'm coming, Hana-kun! >
Junko scrambles toward her on all fours and reaches for her hand--
--but Hanako is abruptly pulled away from the window, tackled to the concrete floor below by the fat bald man and the other man with the flat top. The man with the flat top is bleeding profusely from an open wound on his cheek. He struggles to hold the girl down and keep pressure on the gushing wound... and then she sees a man's eyes, almost level with hers. She almost screams. His voice is calm but disappointed.
KING KOTA: < Junko. What a mess you have made. >
She inches away from the window but King Kota continues to speak, only his eyes and that slicked back pompadour are visible to her. Tears roll down her cheeks and are quickly lost in the rain.
KING KOTA: < I know you two like to play games, but this kind of game is not cool, okay? Why don't you come back inside and we will play a new game. Hanako is waiting. >
His eyes burn a hole straight through her soul.
KING KOTA: < There will be no punishment-- >
FLAT TOP: < Hey! Come on! Are you fucking kidding me!? Look at my face! >
Kota doesn't turn around, but he cuts his eyes in the direction of the man with the flat top, shouting over his shoulder at him with pure unbridled rage.
KING KOTA: < HEY, WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE TALKING TO, HUH!? SHUT THE FUCK UP OR YOU WILL GET ANOTHER HOLE IN YOUR FACE TO TALK OUT OF, OKAY!? >
Silence.
Kota redirects his gaze to Junko who continues to inch away. The sock on her wounded leg is soaked with blood and her white sneakers are spattered with it. The rain causes hints of the blood to turn pink and roll away toward the sole. Her injury is a wound that will likely require stitches.
KING KOTA: < There will be no punishment. That is my promise to you, Junko-chan. I see that you are hurt. That is very unfortunate. You are a wild one. Come inside, let me help you. I will even let you choose what color band-aid. I think there is Hello Kitty or My Neighbor Totoro, pink or blue or green-- >
He chuckles, a slow and deliberate laugh.
KING KOTA: < --whatever you like. >
Hanako cries out in pain, causing Kota to wince in frustration, knowing it will not help his point. Junko covers her mouth as tears stream down her cheeks. Suddenly, the humor falls entirely out of Kota's voice and his eyes go dead. Lightning strikes in the distance.
KING KOTA: < Just come inside. Immediately. >
Junko scrambles back to her feet and runs away as quickly as her feet will carry her. Within seconds, she's gone in the distance. King Kota continues watching through the window. He growls over his shoulder at his men.
KING KOTA: < Put that one in the fucking box. >
Hanako cries out again, all too familiar with the box.
KING KOTA: < And find the other one. >
His eyes open wide and he screams as loud as he can.
KING KOTA: < NOWWWWWWWWWWWWW! >
Gritting his teeth so tightly that they threaten to burst in his mouth, he stares out the window with wild bloodshot eyes. He huffs and puffs with every breath as we hear his two men dragging Hanako to her fate inside the box.
In the distance, the thunder rolls.
King Kota watches--
--and seethes. Morning.
A card table in the center of what serves as a kitchen.
Already dressed for the day's training in blue athletic shorts and a black sleeveless t-shirt, Junko looks down at the mark on her thigh and remembers the night from two years ago. It's barely visible now, a shade of pink so pale that it's nearly lost in her milky white complexion. She allows her finger to trace the mark ever so lightly.
Heavy footsteps.
Hideo Chiba wanders into the room, puffing on a cigarette. Without a word, he flicks the butt into the sink where it floats in murky water among a collection of dirty dishes. Disheveled and clad in black, he looks down at Junko and notices that she is lost in thought. He notices the small scar and shakes his head, spittle flying from his mouth as he mocks her in his gravelly voice.
HIDEO CHIBA: < You mourn your loss of beauty over a pathetic scar like that? That is not the type of wound that makes a warrior. You have much further to go... so much more to learn in the art of pain. >
She looks up at him and pulls the fabric of her shorts down over the scar. She narrows her eyes, offended by his presumption.
JUNKO SOUMA: < I do not mourn my loss beauty. >
He huffs and approaches a busted, dirty white refrigerator.
HIDEO CHIBA: < Good, because you will have much less beauty when Crimson Lotus is done with you. Fire leaves a much bigger mark than a tiny piece of glass. >
She averts her eyes, folding her arms across her chest. Chiba opens the refrigerator and grabs a can of Foster's, cracking it open and drinking deep. He exhales deeply upon lowering the can and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Beer drips from his goatee and wets the front of his shirt.
HIDEO CHIBA: < Come. Time to train... for what good it will do. >
Junko slowly stands up from behind the table and pushes her chair in. She watches Chiba as he walks toward the door and places his hand on the doorknob. She can see the scars on his arm, revealed by his sleeveless shirt... and she can see the scars on his back peeking from along the frayed edges. Even though she wouldn't say it out loud, she admired his ability to take such a beating and keep going.
JUNKO SOUMA: < Your ability to motivate me is as deformed as your hand, teacher. >
He stops in his tracks and looks over his shoulder, red in the face... but not in anger. He smiles, showing off his crooked teeth... and then he begins to chuckle. He looks down at his left hand, at the pinkie short two knuckles. He looks at Junko, at the scowl on her face, and shakes his head... highly amused.
HIDEO CHIBA: < Funny. >
He opens the door and walks out of the flat, leaving her standing at the table. Annoyed, she follows him out the door, prepared for her next training session to get ready for "The Crimson Lotus" Lien Xinya. Catching up to him, she finds him just around the corner heaving his guts out next to an overflowing trash can. She sneers and turns away as he hacks and spits, then blows his nose... and it disturbs her how substantial of a sound the contents make when they strike the pavement.
She shuts her eyes for the briefest of moments--
--then approaches him and pats him on the back.
She helps him stand upright and guides him in the direction of the nearby dojo. In the same way that he is willing to do whatever it takes to see her dream come true, she must do whatever it takes to keep him moving forward. He can't let her down, and she can't let him let her down.
She wants to be the IIW Women's World Champion.
She wants to be the IIW Queen of the Ring.
But most importantly, she wants to be worth it. |
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