Post by kamigawa on Apr 2, 2017 22:24:58 GMT
I was in Hawaii after decimating Phillip Kennedy - someone I used to consider a friend of mine. Wrestling was a harsh business sometimes, even if any friends in it I have are temporary allies. Everyone is out for themselves. The only people I trust are the ones smart enough not to step into the ring.
Ordinarily, I’d be gone by now, but management let me know my next task - a #1 contendership match for the Rising Phoenix Championship against fellow newcomer Frisky D. Given that I’ve got a busy few days ahead of me, I decided to just...get things over with.
Backstage, in front of a Phoenix Wrestling banner, it’s time for the worst part of my job.
“I hate fast, agile people.”
I hate them almost as much as I hate doing formal promos, but it’s part of the job. Talking people into the building, as my mentor always calls it, is the part of the job that you can do long after your physical skills have deteriorated.
“Fighting them is like swatting at mosquitos. If you connect once, the mosquito is gone, but that is the trick. You have to connect. My career as a professional wrestler has been stymied, time and time again, because a fast, agile competitor crossed my path. I can fight giants all day long. Quick, little shits? My greatest weakness.”
I hate talking. Most of my best fights come when some shithead starts nonsense in a bar or club and it’s time to crack skulls. I’m not good at coming up with impressive, catchy sayings.
At this point, though? Wrestling’s all I’ve got, so I’d better get good, fast.
“But at the Supershow? That’s coming to an end, because I’ve got Frisky D in a match that qualifies me to take on the Rising Phoenix Champion if I win. The current champion is a woman I know from pastures long since departed, Anastasia Starling - one of those fast, agile people I despise so much. Unless Finn can take the belt from her, it’s best that I get used to swatting bugs before I have dozens of bites all over my body.”
If I close my eyes, I can see their faces. Fiona Riley. Heather Lasiewicz, nee Halliwell. The women who stopped my wrecking ball path to the top of the industry. Everything I’ve done to make this comeback is with them and people like them in mind. I’ve dropped weight to be a little faster and more agile. My cardio isn’t great, but it’s better than it’s ever been.
Now or never.
“Nothing I do in this ring is personal. Everything I do is to make a little more money, earn a little more respect, and claw my way one more rung up the ladder. Frisky, you may think that I held a grudge against you when you wake up after this contest, but I assure you that, no, what I do to you will be the same as what I did to Phillip Kennedy and any other unfortunate who chooses to sign on the dotted line to meet Oni Kamigawa. I went by Ryuji, once. Now, though? I don’t deserve that name, because I am an oni - a demon, for the Japanese challenged among you. And this demon will send you on a one-way trip to Hell that you will never, ever forget.”
Corny? Yeah. That’s okay, though. Best I can tell, this profession thrives on corny lines delivered with absolute conviction.
“Our fans in California are going to watch you fly around D,” I said, stoic as ever. “You’re going to hit me, time and again. You’ll hurt me. I’ll go down. But all it takes is one. One mistake on your part, or one bit of quick thinking on mine, and it’ll take you the rest of the night to collect your broken teeth and your broken pride.”
That is how most of my fights ended before I got into wrestling. Now? It was considerably harder. Positive thinking, though, should yield positive results.
“I will see you soon enough, so I won’t waste any more of our time. I will leave you with three words - in Japanese and in English, because they spell out the result of our clash quite clearly.”
I smiled, hoping I would be smiling after this bout.
“Kamigawa no kachi…Victory for Kamigawa.”
* * *
Three days later...
Trans-Atlantic flights took more and more out of me as I got older. Even a little lighter, cramming into coach seats still sucked. That was all the more reason for me to relax on the couch in my tiny Osaka apartment, drinking a brew, when I heard a loud buzzing noise that rousted me from my relaxation.
I stood up, wearily, and crossed the small apartment to the door. I expected no visitors today, but I quickly pressed the intercom button.
“Who is this,” I demanded, tone harsher than I meant it to be.
“Ryudo,” came the reply. “Let me in, I’ve got news. Big news!”
With a sigh, I pushed another button, granting him access to the building. Ryudo was my best friend, but sometimes I really wanted to be alone. I was caught off guard when I heard footsteps. Ryudo made record time. I threw the door open, and was greeted by a very enthusiastic best friend.
“They got the bastard!” Ryudo yelled, and clapped me on the back. Hard. Pro wrestler or not, Ryudo hit like a truck even when he was being friendly.
I still had no idea what was going on.
“What bastard?” I asked. “The Hell are you talking about?”
“THE bastard, Ryuji,” came the reply. “The one that burned Dekedan to the ground.”
For a long, long moment, I couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Club Dekedan had been entrusted to me by one of the few people who ever gave a damn about me, and one year later it had been burned to the ground. Twenty people had died - eight patrons and twelve employees.
Among them had been my fiancee.
“You’re shittin’ me,” was the most intelligent response I could manage. It had been years since the fire at Dekedan. The case was beyond cold. How could something have happened this suddenly?
“Put the TV on. It’s all over the news right now.”
My body moved automatically, a mixture of rage and gratefulness swirling through my 280 plus pounds as I grabbed the remote and dropped all of my weight onto the couch. One button press later, and I watched something I couldn’t fathom unfold - a young looking, handcuffed, man, being led past a phalanx of reporters.
“Today,” I heard, in a cheerful reporter’s voice, “Osaka police arrested this man in connection with the suspected arson of popular night spot Club Dekedan several years ago. Initial questioning has led the police to believe that the man, a known associate of the Ota Clan, worked closely with Paradise owner Naomichi Yamaguchi in the arson plot…”
It was almost too much information to take in at once. I realized that I was still holding my beer can, and soon, I launched it across the room, where it smashed into the wall - the half-full can’s contents leaking all over the wall and carpet.
“Well?” Ryudo asked. He was dealing with everything better than I was; presumably, he’d already seen the news story. I, on the other hand, had not, and I was seeing red.
“Never would have thought it was Paradise in a million years,” I spat, rising to my feet and pacing around like a caged lion. “I had dinner with Yamaguchi-san on multiple occasions. We were never close, but I always thought we had mutual respect, one club owner to another. I see that I was mistaken.”
“What happens now?” Ryudo asked me. “I mean...you know a lot more about...well, you know…”
“You don’t have to dance around it, Ryudo,” I snorted. “I was a yakuza. You want to know what happens from here, right?”
Ryudo nodded as I continued to pace. I racked my brain to everything I used to know, when I was an eighteen year old punk kid with a dream of being one of Japan’s best gangsters.
“The Ota Clan’s one of the oldest and most respected families in Osaka,” I explained. “My group did some business with them once upon a time. They pride themselves in being discreet - there’s no way in Hell that this should be public if that guy’s Ota and he burned Dekedan.”
“But it is,” Ryudo shot back, “so what’s the deal?”
“My bet is that Yamaguchi fucked them over on some piece of business or another. This relationship wasn’t a one time thing. Yamaguchi did something to piss the Otas off - so they responded in kind.”
I looked at the mugshot now showing on TV. The guy was young - about as young as I remembered being, marched in front of TV cameras just as he was. Waves of anger rose up, but I fought them back. I could be angry later. I had a confused friend to deal with first.
“The Otas sent him to the cops to cut a deal. He’ll do five years, max, if he can deliver them Yamaguchi. Police don’t give a damn about that kid, not really. He’s wet behind the ears. They give a damn about a “legitimate businessman” palling around with the mob.”
“To answer your initial question, though? Paradise is fucked. It won’t survive this. If we’re lucky? Yamaguchi spends 25 to life behind bars. We’re gonna have give depositions and testify in a bunch of trials, and this is gonna get dragged out for years.”
“Honestly? If I wasn’t the most obvious suspect on Earth, I’d go kill the fucker myself. I spent a decade behind bars, though. I’d rather not do that again.”
“Whoa whoa whoa, a DECADE?” Ryudo exclaimed. “You told me you did time, you never told me it was a fuckin’ decade! What on Earth did you…”
“Not telling,” I said, flatly. “There’s a lot of shit about my past life you’re better off not knowing. Besides, we’ve got a lot of shit to do now before I get back on a plane to the States.”
“Like?”
“Like telling Keiko, for starters. She’s probably getting ready for her shift at Elegance and hasn’t seen the news. Organizing a meeting of all of the ex-Dekedan staff. I’m going to have the news media all over me for quotes; honestly, I’m shocked it hasn’t already happened. I should probably schedule a press conference for sometime in the next few weeks. So much to do…”
Ryudo looked stunned. Thankfully, I’d been in the eye of enough storms to know when I had to take charge, and this was one of those times.
“Go call Keiko on her cell,” I said, “and if I was you, I’d head back to your place unless you want your face plastered all over the next news broadcast. I’m a professional wrestler with international experience AND the owner of the club that got burned down by that kid on TV. This apartment’s gonna be swarming with reporters the second people start doing research.”
Ryudo winced - fame wasn’t his thing, by a longshot. “Got it, Boss,” he said. “I’ll contact as many of the old crew as I can, make sure everyone knows. I’ll tell them not to say anything to the media they might regret.”
“Good man,” I replied. “You’re catching onto this quick. I’ll give a quick statement and tell everyone that I’ll give a better one when I get back from the States.”
He seemed to understand the urgency I was speaking with - a moment later, he was gone, headed off to deal with the burden he’d chosen to take. I was grateful to him - anything he could do would make my life significantly easier.
Moments later, I heard several knocks on the door. With a sigh, I walked back to the door, thankful that I always wore my white tuxedo. At least I’d look good on television.
* * *
DEKEDAN OWNER LAUDS POLICE, CALLS FOR JUSTICE IN YEARS-OLD ARSON
By Akihiko Nakamaki
(OSAKA, JAPAN) Ryuji Kamigawa is best known outside of Osaka as a professional wrestler. To many who frequent Osaka’s infamous Highway of Decadence, though, he was known as the owner of popular hostess club Dekedan, the #1 such club in Osaka for many years.
In wake of the recent revelations regarding the case, Kamigawa spoke in front of the assembled news media yesterday.
“It is early yet,” Kamigawa stated, in part, “but I wish to give my thanks to the police for their work on this case. Twenty people died that day in Dekedan, and hundreds of lives were forever altered. I hope that this is the beginning of the closure that we all hope for. Arresting and bringing justice to those responsible will not change what happened, but I for one will rest a little easier.”
Asked what he himself would ask the perpetrator of the crime, Kamigawa paused for a moment, before giving a somewhat less carefully crafted remark.
“I do not care about his motivations; I think they’re fairly obvious, assuming what has been made public thus far is true. Making that assumption, I am far more concerned about the motivations of Yamaguchi-san, a man I once considered at least a close acquaintance. If he is involved, I hope that the hand of justice is swift and merciless.”
On that note, Kamigawa took his leave, promising a more official statement once he returned from the United States. He is scheduled to compete in a contest for Phoenix Wrestling on April 4, against Frisky D. The bout will be aired live, worldwide, on YouTube.
Ordinarily, I’d be gone by now, but management let me know my next task - a #1 contendership match for the Rising Phoenix Championship against fellow newcomer Frisky D. Given that I’ve got a busy few days ahead of me, I decided to just...get things over with.
Backstage, in front of a Phoenix Wrestling banner, it’s time for the worst part of my job.
“I hate fast, agile people.”
I hate them almost as much as I hate doing formal promos, but it’s part of the job. Talking people into the building, as my mentor always calls it, is the part of the job that you can do long after your physical skills have deteriorated.
“Fighting them is like swatting at mosquitos. If you connect once, the mosquito is gone, but that is the trick. You have to connect. My career as a professional wrestler has been stymied, time and time again, because a fast, agile competitor crossed my path. I can fight giants all day long. Quick, little shits? My greatest weakness.”
I hate talking. Most of my best fights come when some shithead starts nonsense in a bar or club and it’s time to crack skulls. I’m not good at coming up with impressive, catchy sayings.
At this point, though? Wrestling’s all I’ve got, so I’d better get good, fast.
“But at the Supershow? That’s coming to an end, because I’ve got Frisky D in a match that qualifies me to take on the Rising Phoenix Champion if I win. The current champion is a woman I know from pastures long since departed, Anastasia Starling - one of those fast, agile people I despise so much. Unless Finn can take the belt from her, it’s best that I get used to swatting bugs before I have dozens of bites all over my body.”
If I close my eyes, I can see their faces. Fiona Riley. Heather Lasiewicz, nee Halliwell. The women who stopped my wrecking ball path to the top of the industry. Everything I’ve done to make this comeback is with them and people like them in mind. I’ve dropped weight to be a little faster and more agile. My cardio isn’t great, but it’s better than it’s ever been.
Now or never.
“Nothing I do in this ring is personal. Everything I do is to make a little more money, earn a little more respect, and claw my way one more rung up the ladder. Frisky, you may think that I held a grudge against you when you wake up after this contest, but I assure you that, no, what I do to you will be the same as what I did to Phillip Kennedy and any other unfortunate who chooses to sign on the dotted line to meet Oni Kamigawa. I went by Ryuji, once. Now, though? I don’t deserve that name, because I am an oni - a demon, for the Japanese challenged among you. And this demon will send you on a one-way trip to Hell that you will never, ever forget.”
Corny? Yeah. That’s okay, though. Best I can tell, this profession thrives on corny lines delivered with absolute conviction.
“Our fans in California are going to watch you fly around D,” I said, stoic as ever. “You’re going to hit me, time and again. You’ll hurt me. I’ll go down. But all it takes is one. One mistake on your part, or one bit of quick thinking on mine, and it’ll take you the rest of the night to collect your broken teeth and your broken pride.”
That is how most of my fights ended before I got into wrestling. Now? It was considerably harder. Positive thinking, though, should yield positive results.
“I will see you soon enough, so I won’t waste any more of our time. I will leave you with three words - in Japanese and in English, because they spell out the result of our clash quite clearly.”
I smiled, hoping I would be smiling after this bout.
“Kamigawa no kachi…Victory for Kamigawa.”
* * *
Three days later...
Trans-Atlantic flights took more and more out of me as I got older. Even a little lighter, cramming into coach seats still sucked. That was all the more reason for me to relax on the couch in my tiny Osaka apartment, drinking a brew, when I heard a loud buzzing noise that rousted me from my relaxation.
I stood up, wearily, and crossed the small apartment to the door. I expected no visitors today, but I quickly pressed the intercom button.
“Who is this,” I demanded, tone harsher than I meant it to be.
“Ryudo,” came the reply. “Let me in, I’ve got news. Big news!”
With a sigh, I pushed another button, granting him access to the building. Ryudo was my best friend, but sometimes I really wanted to be alone. I was caught off guard when I heard footsteps. Ryudo made record time. I threw the door open, and was greeted by a very enthusiastic best friend.
“They got the bastard!” Ryudo yelled, and clapped me on the back. Hard. Pro wrestler or not, Ryudo hit like a truck even when he was being friendly.
I still had no idea what was going on.
“What bastard?” I asked. “The Hell are you talking about?”
“THE bastard, Ryuji,” came the reply. “The one that burned Dekedan to the ground.”
For a long, long moment, I couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Club Dekedan had been entrusted to me by one of the few people who ever gave a damn about me, and one year later it had been burned to the ground. Twenty people had died - eight patrons and twelve employees.
Among them had been my fiancee.
“You’re shittin’ me,” was the most intelligent response I could manage. It had been years since the fire at Dekedan. The case was beyond cold. How could something have happened this suddenly?
“Put the TV on. It’s all over the news right now.”
My body moved automatically, a mixture of rage and gratefulness swirling through my 280 plus pounds as I grabbed the remote and dropped all of my weight onto the couch. One button press later, and I watched something I couldn’t fathom unfold - a young looking, handcuffed, man, being led past a phalanx of reporters.
“Today,” I heard, in a cheerful reporter’s voice, “Osaka police arrested this man in connection with the suspected arson of popular night spot Club Dekedan several years ago. Initial questioning has led the police to believe that the man, a known associate of the Ota Clan, worked closely with Paradise owner Naomichi Yamaguchi in the arson plot…”
It was almost too much information to take in at once. I realized that I was still holding my beer can, and soon, I launched it across the room, where it smashed into the wall - the half-full can’s contents leaking all over the wall and carpet.
“Well?” Ryudo asked. He was dealing with everything better than I was; presumably, he’d already seen the news story. I, on the other hand, had not, and I was seeing red.
“Never would have thought it was Paradise in a million years,” I spat, rising to my feet and pacing around like a caged lion. “I had dinner with Yamaguchi-san on multiple occasions. We were never close, but I always thought we had mutual respect, one club owner to another. I see that I was mistaken.”
“What happens now?” Ryudo asked me. “I mean...you know a lot more about...well, you know…”
“You don’t have to dance around it, Ryudo,” I snorted. “I was a yakuza. You want to know what happens from here, right?”
Ryudo nodded as I continued to pace. I racked my brain to everything I used to know, when I was an eighteen year old punk kid with a dream of being one of Japan’s best gangsters.
“The Ota Clan’s one of the oldest and most respected families in Osaka,” I explained. “My group did some business with them once upon a time. They pride themselves in being discreet - there’s no way in Hell that this should be public if that guy’s Ota and he burned Dekedan.”
“But it is,” Ryudo shot back, “so what’s the deal?”
“My bet is that Yamaguchi fucked them over on some piece of business or another. This relationship wasn’t a one time thing. Yamaguchi did something to piss the Otas off - so they responded in kind.”
I looked at the mugshot now showing on TV. The guy was young - about as young as I remembered being, marched in front of TV cameras just as he was. Waves of anger rose up, but I fought them back. I could be angry later. I had a confused friend to deal with first.
“The Otas sent him to the cops to cut a deal. He’ll do five years, max, if he can deliver them Yamaguchi. Police don’t give a damn about that kid, not really. He’s wet behind the ears. They give a damn about a “legitimate businessman” palling around with the mob.”
“To answer your initial question, though? Paradise is fucked. It won’t survive this. If we’re lucky? Yamaguchi spends 25 to life behind bars. We’re gonna have give depositions and testify in a bunch of trials, and this is gonna get dragged out for years.”
“Honestly? If I wasn’t the most obvious suspect on Earth, I’d go kill the fucker myself. I spent a decade behind bars, though. I’d rather not do that again.”
“Whoa whoa whoa, a DECADE?” Ryudo exclaimed. “You told me you did time, you never told me it was a fuckin’ decade! What on Earth did you…”
“Not telling,” I said, flatly. “There’s a lot of shit about my past life you’re better off not knowing. Besides, we’ve got a lot of shit to do now before I get back on a plane to the States.”
“Like?”
“Like telling Keiko, for starters. She’s probably getting ready for her shift at Elegance and hasn’t seen the news. Organizing a meeting of all of the ex-Dekedan staff. I’m going to have the news media all over me for quotes; honestly, I’m shocked it hasn’t already happened. I should probably schedule a press conference for sometime in the next few weeks. So much to do…”
Ryudo looked stunned. Thankfully, I’d been in the eye of enough storms to know when I had to take charge, and this was one of those times.
“Go call Keiko on her cell,” I said, “and if I was you, I’d head back to your place unless you want your face plastered all over the next news broadcast. I’m a professional wrestler with international experience AND the owner of the club that got burned down by that kid on TV. This apartment’s gonna be swarming with reporters the second people start doing research.”
Ryudo winced - fame wasn’t his thing, by a longshot. “Got it, Boss,” he said. “I’ll contact as many of the old crew as I can, make sure everyone knows. I’ll tell them not to say anything to the media they might regret.”
“Good man,” I replied. “You’re catching onto this quick. I’ll give a quick statement and tell everyone that I’ll give a better one when I get back from the States.”
He seemed to understand the urgency I was speaking with - a moment later, he was gone, headed off to deal with the burden he’d chosen to take. I was grateful to him - anything he could do would make my life significantly easier.
Moments later, I heard several knocks on the door. With a sigh, I walked back to the door, thankful that I always wore my white tuxedo. At least I’d look good on television.
* * *
DEKEDAN OWNER LAUDS POLICE, CALLS FOR JUSTICE IN YEARS-OLD ARSON
By Akihiko Nakamaki
(OSAKA, JAPAN) Ryuji Kamigawa is best known outside of Osaka as a professional wrestler. To many who frequent Osaka’s infamous Highway of Decadence, though, he was known as the owner of popular hostess club Dekedan, the #1 such club in Osaka for many years.
In wake of the recent revelations regarding the case, Kamigawa spoke in front of the assembled news media yesterday.
“It is early yet,” Kamigawa stated, in part, “but I wish to give my thanks to the police for their work on this case. Twenty people died that day in Dekedan, and hundreds of lives were forever altered. I hope that this is the beginning of the closure that we all hope for. Arresting and bringing justice to those responsible will not change what happened, but I for one will rest a little easier.”
Asked what he himself would ask the perpetrator of the crime, Kamigawa paused for a moment, before giving a somewhat less carefully crafted remark.
“I do not care about his motivations; I think they’re fairly obvious, assuming what has been made public thus far is true. Making that assumption, I am far more concerned about the motivations of Yamaguchi-san, a man I once considered at least a close acquaintance. If he is involved, I hope that the hand of justice is swift and merciless.”
On that note, Kamigawa took his leave, promising a more official statement once he returned from the United States. He is scheduled to compete in a contest for Phoenix Wrestling on April 4, against Frisky D. The bout will be aired live, worldwide, on YouTube.