A Cruel Twist of Fate

[Kaji Fireson]

March 3rd, 2011
Utashinai, Hokkaido, Japan
2:45 PM (JST)

I am glad you could come to Utashinai with me, Fireson-sensei.

Not a problem, Isamu. I know how hard it is to say goodbye to your family. I'm just giving you the support that I never had.

Despite the blatantly Swiss chalet style of all the houses in the immediate vicinity, the two men who spoke to open this scene are definitely in Japan, not Switzerland. One has short hair that sticks up in every direction, brown eyes, a clean face, that distinctive skin tone the Japanese (and, truthfully, the other peoples in the region as well) are known for, a heavy black coat, and blue jeans. The other has what was formerly vivid crimson hair, but is now duller and graying, equally short but more tame, blue eyes, a bit of stubble, and a paler complexion, and a dark brown trenchcoat wrapped tightly around him.

They are standing outside a building that is basically a reproduction of a Swiss chalet house. For those that are confused, it's basically a wooden house designed with large, overhanging eaves and a roof that slopes at a pretty low grade. The facade is immaculate, the wood powerwashed a vivid light brown, the sidewalk leading from the road to the door a pristine gray concrete.

You'd never guess it from out here...

Yes. Well, just wait until we get inside.

The two walk up the sidewalk up to the front door, Isamu leading the way. When he gets to the door, he opens it, then kicks his shoes and leaves them outside the threshold, on a mat with several other pairs of shoes. David kicks his off behind him and walks in behind his student.

The inside of this house is certainly a far cry from the brightness of the facade. Everything is dull and graying, perhaps fraying or splintered. The end table with a vase on it is dull, the tatami mats are fraying and coming apart at the edges, the kotatsu is stained and faded. The hair on the elderly woman kneeling before the kotatsu is just as dull and gray, and her face is wrinkled and pale to match. She is wearing a traditional, highly formal and clearly worn kimono as she kneels at the table, sipping a cup of what might be tea or sake; in the dark cup, you can't tell for sure.

Also, for the sake of convenience, all dialogue will be transcribed in English, even if it is in Japanese.

Mother, it's time.

The elderly woman doesn't look up from her cup, taking a sip and returning the bowl to the table, while the rest of her body remains completely stationary.

Time to abandon your responsibilities, or time to abandon your family?

Now that's a little unfair--

Is it?

The elderly woman tenses up, but continues to stare steadfastly down at the table before her. Her tone of voice is vicious, her body language hostile, her language acidic, but she relentlessly maintains her position in seiza.

I don't know much about you, David, but I think it best for you to stay out of this. Do not concern yourself with something that you cannot understand.

I understand more than you think, Mrs. Suzuki.

The elder woman snorts, but does not relent in failing to look her son or his mentor in their eyes. The longer the exchange goes, the more Isamu sinks into the corner, but David reaches for him to pull him back out toward the middle of the room.

Look at your son.

When she does not respond, David shows just how American he is.

LOOK AT HIM!

Mrs. Suzuki looks up slowly, her eyes hiding beneath a heavily furrowed brow, her eyebrows angled down in terrible fury. She has her eyes trained firmly on Isamu, who cowers in the gaze, but David seems unphased.

This is hardly the face of a man that's going to go to America and forget about you. He is not flying to New York to abandon you. He is flying to New York in the hopes that he will use the skills he learned from me to win fame and fortune...for you!

If he is so dedicated to me and to this house, then why won't he say so?

David stops short at this point, since he really has no idea why it shouldn't be Isamu speaking for himself. So he steps back and lets Isamu take center stage.

The trouble with this approach is that Isamu is still shamed by his mother's outburst, and embarrassed by David's blind faith. So when David steps back, all eyes turned to a cowering little boy disguised as a young man.

After a few moments, the mother scoffs and looks back down at the tea.

If you are going, go, but do not come back until you bring the honor and fortune that you have promised.

And with this, Suzuki's mother falls silent. The pair of them wait for about thirty seconds for her to say something else, but she doesn't even move to take a sip of tea/sake, so they give up, turning on their heels and leaving.

In almost no time, they are back outside, shoes back on, coats back on, and back out on the street, with a sullen look on Isamu's face. David smiles a bit, slapping Isamu on the back as they head out to the road.

She still loves you, kid. It's just tough for her to show it right now.

If you say so, Sensei.

I do say so. Now we need to get out of here. I want to get a few more sessions in with you before we fly out to New York.

David and Isamu start walking up the street, the scene fading as they turn the corner.

March 11th, 2011
Manhattan, New York
12:45 AM (EST)

David has brought Isamu to a 24-hour cafe at the southern tip of Manhattan. Isamu looks out of place sipping on the tiny coffee cup, but David has a larger one as he reads the newspaper. It’s yesterday’s news, and he doesn’t live here, so he looks almost eager when Isamu looks up at David to ask him a question.

David, is it common for Americans to not understand the horror of the atomic bombs?

David immediately regrets looking so enthused for the question, though he knew it was coming eventually. He sighs, putting down the paper and his coffee so he can focus his attention on Isamu.

Not only is it common, it is pretty much universal. Worldly Americans are few and far between, and ones with compassion are even fewer and farther.

So Cyrus-San wasn’t trying to evoke that horror?

David pauses, trying to find the right words.

Well, yes and no. He did try to evoke it, but I very seriously doubt that he knows just what he was delving into. If he did, he would have had a bit more reservation about it.

Isamu nods, seeming to be satisfied by this. However, before the young would-be wrestler can say anything else, David‘s cell phone rings. David raises an eyebrow as he pulls it out and looks at who it is. To his surprise, it is a number from Japan.

I’d better take this. Do you mind?

Isamu shakes his head, so David takes the call.

Moshi moshi.

No, we weren’t sleeping. It is late here, but Isamu-kun needed to unwind, so I took him to a coffee shop that‘s open all night.

What?

The following pause starts out awkward, but turns anguished as Isamu can only sit there and watch David’s expression go from wary, to confused, to horrified.

Was anyone hurt?

No one at the facility was hurt? What the hell does that mean?

…which ones were on leave?

Oh god. Have you called them?

I hope they get out of there…

Yes, he’s right here with me.

I will do so.

Thank you for telling me, even if it’s something I’d rather not have known.

David clicks the phone shut, foregoing the usual closing of Sayounara so he can get off the phone. He looks at Isamu, who looks appropriately fearful.

What happened, Sensei?

There’s…there’s been an earthquake off the coast of Japan.

Is everyone alright?

All Nagaoka-san could tell me was that none of the buildings in Tokyo were seriously damaged. The subways had to shut down, and the school got shaken up pretty bad, but there’s no overarching structural damage.

Isamu fidgets with his coffee cup, and David does the same.

What about the others?

David shakes his head, not wanting to think about it. But he decides he’d rather think about it than lie.

Steven and Toshiro went up to visit Toshiro’s family in Kamaishi while I was gone, and Nagaoka can’t get them on their cells. I just hope somebody tells them to get out of there…Kamaishi looks like it’s the closest city to the quake…

David doesn’t have to elaborate on the horror. Isamu gets that emotionless, glazed look in his eyes again as he tries to cope with what he’s just heard. David sees it and reaches across the table, knocking over his coffee in the process of gripping Isamu firmly by the shoulders.

We don’t know if Kamaishi’s going to get hit that hard yet, or if they’ll even be there when it happens. At this point, we have to hope for the best, and prepare for the worst.

Isamu nods, his expression still alarmingly blank.

In the case that they perish, you must now wrestle for all three of you. You have to preserve their memory in your legacy. You have to achieve your goals and gain honor for all three of you, to prove that they did not perish in vain. Can you do that?

Isamu nods again, curtly, surely. David nods again, then looks at the mess of coffee he’s made.

Now I need to go get someone to clean this up. Stay right here.

David gets up and heads off, leaving Isamu by himself. Isamu looks down at the pool of coffee as it drifts toward his cup, heaving a sigh as he tries to hold it together. Burdened with the task of preserving his friends at the same time as earning his legacy in the face of this terrible tragedy, he is understandably shaken, so combined with Cyrus’s blasphemy, cracks begin to form in his reserved exterior. His face contorts into rage comparable to his mother‘s when David shouted at her.

I may be new, and I may be without accolades, but I have passion, something Chris-kun clearly lacks. If all he can say about me is that I eat sushi and I am an inferior wrestler, than I will just have to teach him what professional wrestling is all about, not that he seems very professional. I will show him that I‘ve learned all I need to know from Fireson-sensei, and he knows nothing worth learning.

His eyes narrow even further as he recalls what Cyrus said so casually.

If Chris Cyrus wants to compare himself to Hiroshima, I will show him the horrors he so flippantly refers to. I will show him the anguish that all the victims felt in Hiroshima by making him feel just as helpless, just as pained, just as doomed as they did. I vow, win or lose, to make him understand what he has unleashed, so he will never be foolish enough to do it again.

He falls silent, body visibly shaking with indignant rage. David comes back and sees that, sighing. His mission to clear his charge’s mind has failed.

Best get you back to the hotel to get some sleep.

He guides Isamu up out of the chair and walks him out the door as the scene fades to black.