Life Goes On

[Kaji Fireson]

March 19th, 2011
Kamaishi, Iwate, Japan

I told you not to come back until you could bring honor to your family.

There are extenuating circumstances, Mother.

Isamu’s mother falls silent, an expression of sorrow washing over her face as she looks out the window behind her son. Her actions prompt Isamu to do the same, turning and looking out at the countryside.

The mother and son (as well as the son’s wrestling trainer, David Fireson) are standing in one of the few remaining buildings in the coast city of Japan, looking out a window at a scene of chaos. There is water damage and debris from destroyed homes as far as the eye can see. There are pockets of rescue workers and volunteers dispersed through the rubble, trying to uncover lost pets, save family members, and get a handle on the true extent of the devastation that the tsunami has generated.

Not since World War II has such destruction been wrought, and the sadness that is painted on every face in sight says more than any words could, but sprinkled in with the adversity is some determination to overcome it. It’s going to take more than a big wave to bring down a culture that transformed from an antiquated feudal state to a hyper-modern nation overnight. That same mixture of grief and grit is evident on the face of both Suzukis.

How did it happen?

Apparently Toshiro took Steven out to Sanganjima for a week of living off the land, like our ancestors did. He told me he had a makeshift cabin somewhere on the island, but there’s no way it could have hoped to stand up to that torrent, even if it had withstood the earthquake.

Mrs. Suzuki lowers her head, shaking it a little at the foolishness of youth.

And if they were at all as primitive as those same ancestors, they’d have left their phones at home...

Hence why no one could reach them after the earthquake.

The three of them trail off into an awkward silence as they just look out at the wreckage.

After a few moments, David gets tired of standing around doing nothing and starts shifting his weight from leg to leg anxiously.

I can’t just stand in here anymore. Why aren’t we helping with the debris?

We are waiting for the wind to turn. It is currently blowing in from the southwest, which is blowing radiation from Fukushima right at us. Once the wind shifts, we will go.

Well what about everyone helping now?

They are all wearing some form of protection, or else they’ve lost so much that they are not concerned with the radiation.

Oh yeah?

David sighs, looking down at the ground, shuffling idly while Isamu and his mother wait patiently. After a few moments, David growls, his frustration boiling over.

Screw it. I’m so fucked that a little radiation won’t make me any worse than I already am.

And with no further ado, David rolls up the sleeves of his sweatshirt and trudges out into the battlefield, meeting up with the first authority figure he can find to figure out what he can do to help. Isamu just stares in wonder at David’s actions while his mother chuckles. Confused, he turns to her.

What is so funny, Mother?

She reigns herself in, looking back out at the silly gaijin working to help a people not his own with a problem that isn’t his.

I do not know your teacher, Isamu, but it is clear he has much to atone for.

Before she can get any further, David looks up at the sky, then down at his sweater to see which way the wind is blowing. After getting his bearings, he gesticulates wildly to the Suzuki clan. He can’t be heard, but his meaning is clear as he waves them out of the dilapidated building.

I guess that’s our cue.

Wait.

Isamu stops mid-stride, turning to face his mother. She looks worn down and aged, even more so than just last week. But much has happened in this particular week. Her expression is sorrowful, but with an undertone of affection that only a mother can manage, and that mothers of all ethnicities would recognize immediately.

David is right, you know. I do love you. Very dearly.

Isamu is silent, stunned silent by this unexpected outpour of emotion from the woman he knows more for being the embodiment of stoicism.

I meant what I said before, about the honor and leaving me, but this week has reminded me how fortunate I am. I survived, and you were safe in New York. It is almost as if the gods have favored us.

Isamu is silent for a moment before he responds, his own face and voice steeped in sorrow.

If this is the gods’ favor, I wish they would favor the rest of us the same. I cannot bear to see such horror.

Mrs. Suzuki can only smile grimly, nodding a bit before walking up past Isamu.

The wind has turned. We should share what favor we can with those who need it.

And then she walks out of the building and out into the wasteland. Isamu holds back a moment, pondering his elders’ actions and words. He soaks it in as best he can before nodding to himself and heading out into the fray himself. The scene remains on Isamu as he trudges out into the mess to try and help fix it, cutting a few times to show him helping someone out of the rubble, finding someone dead in the debris, and teaming up with his mother and mentor to lift a particularly large piece of refuse. Through all the jubilation of being able to help someone, the sorrow and anger at being unable to save others, and the camaraderie with all the other volunteers and rescue workers, the look of determination remains on Isamu’s face.

March 22nd, 2011
Berkley, California

So this is the place?

Indeed it is.

Isamu and David are standing in the parking lot, looking up at the Memorial Stadium in Berkley, California.

But this is a football stadium, not an arena.

I guess APW has enough money and clout to fill the whole place. At least that’s their hope.

The camera leaves David and Isamu, doing a panorama around the monumental stadium. (Literally; the stadium is a monument for Californians lost in the Great War.) However, even as the image zooms in on the football field in the center of the stadium as APW personnel work to convert it into a professional wrestling arena, Isamu and David continue conversing, their voices heard over the montage of ring prep.

So I’ll be wrestling in front of 70,000 people?

More than that, if Jeff has anything to say about it. It’s something not many wrestlers can say, and even fewer can say that they did it in the second match of their career.

The camera now takes the viewpoint of someone standing in the middle of the ring, panning around to look at how imposing the stadium is from within. All the seats are empty, but it is easy to imagine all the seats (not to mention the improvised bleachers and folding chairs on the field closer to ringside) filled, the stadium roaring as they watch the biggest wrestling show of the year.

Was your first big match as terrifying for you as this is for me?

Absolutely. Not only was there a lot of pressure on me to perform, but there was no safety net. If I left it all in the ring and broke my arm, just as an example, then I was screwed. We were paid by appearance, and if I couldn’t appear, I wouldn’t get paid, and there was no fall back for a career wrestler. No MMA, no transition into acting, just pain, suffering, and dreaming about what might have been.

The scene cuts back to Isamu and David. David is still gazing up at the stadium, but Isamu is facing him, looking deathly afraid.

But things are different now, right? You said so many times during training.

Oh, it’s better. Not perfect, but better.

David sighs, then shakes his head, turning to face his young, foreign charge.

But let’s not get bogged down in contractual obligations for a worst case scenario. You have a tremendous opportunity to make a statement in a few days.

I have much to atone for...

David raises an eyebrow, looking down at Isamu, who seems despondent.

What?

My loss to Chris Cyrus. My honor was on the line in my debut, and I failed, bringing dishonor to myself, the friends I dedicated the match to, and the Suzuki name. By all accounts, I should commit hara-kiri to prevent further disgrace.

If you live in the 1500s, maybe, but in 2011, we have a more modern concept.

Isamu raises an eyebrow, looking up at David, his eyes getting teary as he contemplates his failure.

What is that?

Well, we have a saying in the States. “Don’t get mad, get even.”

Even...you mean, like getting revenge?

David smirks, eyes gleaming for an entirely different reason.

Yes. I mean, think about it. You’re in a 20-person battle royal where the winner will get a future title shot on their respective show.

I don’t understand, Sensei.

Walk with me.

Isamu is confused, but follows the order, walking with David. They head for the stadium, David talking as he walks.

Have you done any research about Chris Cyrus, Isamu?

I have not. I’ve been preoccupied with the tsunami.

Which is fine. In your shoes, I’d be preoccupied as well. As your agent of sorts, however, I did a bit of research into IWC and Chris Cyrus.

What did you find?

David pauses before he answers, having to show his ID to the security guard to go into the arena for a bit. Isamu just follows behind him, which the security guard allows. David turns to look at Isamu as they walk through the tunnels out toward the field.

Well, Chris Cyrus, despite disliking hardcore matches, has been in IWC from the start, chasing the Insane Championship.

What does that have to do with anything?

Chris Cyrus is trying to undermine IWC. It’s low production values, low budget, all action, and anything is legal in any match, and Cyrus is trying to be the best by completely disregarding the spirit of the company.

What are you getting at?

David smirks at Isamu as they come out onto the field, shoes touching the concrete that hides beneath the turf of Memorial Stadium. They press on, David gesturing to the enormous stadium's seating.

How would he feel if you came out here, second match of your career, and toppled nineteen other wrestlers, while he fails to win yet another championship?

Isamu stays silent as David paints the picture of vengeance for him. He shifts gears on his charge, as his scenario for getting even is twofold.

Now imagine that Reginald makes your title match for the Insane Championship, and you beat Jimmy. In five matches, if that, you’ve accomplished something Chris Cyrus has been trying to do since October. Think about how that would make Chris Cyrus feel.

He would probably feel like he’s disgraced himself, and maybe he’d leave.

Regardless of whether he leaves or not, he would be shamed by you. He’s a veteran, but he couldn’t get the job done that a rookie could do.

So, if I win this battle royal, I can redeem myself in the eyes of the world and my ancestors?

Not only will you redeem yourself, you’ll be on the fast track to winning as much honor and fortune as your mother could possibly want.

This seems to reassure Isamu, who smiles for the first time since he heard about the earthquake. By now, David and Isamu have gotten to the fifty yard line, or for APW’s purposes, the ring. The ring is set up, but has no turnbuckles or ropes, which means David and Isamu can hop up and stand on the canvas. David steps back to a corner, bringing Isamu to the center of the ring.

Look around.

Isamu looks with wonder at how enormous the stadium is from the inside. All 70,000 plus seats are empty and clearly seen by the starstruck rookie as he spins in place.

Everyone will see you regain your honor and your confidence.

Isamu starts breathing faster as he imagines this. David grins, stepping forward and stopping his lazy circle, directing his gaze to the camera.

Tell the APW and IWC fans what you’re thinking, and tell the nineteen people you’re facing just what they’re in for when you get to the ring.

Isamu takes a deep breath. Standing in the middle of a stadium that will hold almost 80,000 people is a far cry from practice promos in David’s school. However, he’s going to do his best.

Well, there’s not much to say that hasn’t already been stated. On March 27th, I will be thrust into the biggest match of my short career. That’s not really saying all that much, especially since I will likely be saying it about every match I have for weeks to come, but this week, it seems appropriate.

Rasslemania. In an industry saturated with competitors, it is rare to see a show through to its first anniversary, let alone its seventh, but that is what has been brought about. In five days, I wrestle on the greatest stage I have ever performed upon, and likely will have ever performed upon for a long while.

Or until Rasslemania VIII, whichever comes first.

Isamu nods a bit, acknowledging David’s addition before continuing.

In front of countless spectators, both here in Memorial Stadium and watching at home, I am faced with the daunting task of outlasting nineteen wrestlers of varying sizes, ages, and experience levels.

Some are established competitors, while others are just as new as me.

Some are my size, while others greatly outweigh me, tower over me.

Some are young, not yet in the prime of life, while others are more grizzled and wizened, fighting for one last chance at glory.

Regardless of age, sizes, skill, nationality, creed, or sexual orientation, there is one thing that unites all twenty of us: a desire for victory. We all want to validate and vindicate our existences, our careers, our life choices. We all want to be the person that is destined for greatness, but not all of us can share this fate.

In order for someone to win, someone else must lose. In order to win glory, another must suffer defeat and humiliation. It is unfortunate that we cannot all be winners, but at Rasslemania, nineteen must stumble and fall so that number twenty can stand tall in the center of this ring with a chance to etch his name into the history books.

Not everyone can say they have competed in front of 80,000 screaming fans only two matches into their career, but just as few can say that they beat nineteen people in one night. That is the honor up for grabs on Sunday, and I will fight tooth and claw--

Nail.

--tooth and nail to win. Not only do I have lost ground to make up, but the title match up for grabs could be the key to my salvation.

Even if I do not win this battle royal, I need to do well. I must prove to my family, to the world, and to myself that pursuing a career in professional wrestling was not a mistake.

I know I can succeed in this business. All that remains is showing the same to all of you.

Isamu stands silent for a few moments, the impromptu promo obviously over, before he turns to David.

How was that?

Well you’ve got the heartfelt emotion and genuine thoughts down, but you could use a bit of work on your delivery.

Isamu frowns as he looks up at his mentor.

What did I do wrong?

Well, you were very respectful to your opponents, as is your nature, but the fans tend to open these videos, wanting to see how well you can verbally tear down your opponents.

But Sensei...there are nineteen of them! If I addressed each one individually, it would take all night!

Which is why we’re going to leave that for another day and another match with less adversaries. For now, we need to get out of here so the ring crew can finish their work.

Isamu raises an eyebrow, then looks down to see that everyone that had been working on the ring area is idling, staring up at him. He starts bowing to everyone in apology, but before he can get too dizzy, David pulls him away.

Item number two for discussion, getting you more acclimated to American customs...

David hops down from the ring, half-leading, half-dragging Isamu down with him so they can leave the APW ring crew alone to their work.

What did I do wrong this time? Was I not supposed to be repentant?

You can be sorry, but apology that profuse is just going to freak out manual laborers. They just want to be left alone to do their thing.

And before you start, don’t go apologizing to me, either. I’m just educating you.

Isamu, his mouth having been half open already, shuts quickly as he looks down at his feet. David chuckles, arm wrapped around his shoulders as he leads Isamu back out of the stadium.

Don’t worry too much; you’ll get used to it in time, kid.

If you say so, Sensei.

I say so. I got used to Japan, didn't I?

David grins, and Isamu starts perking back up as they get back to the security guard. David nods their way out, and they head back out to the parking lot, heading for David’s rental car as the scene fades out.