In the Meantime

[Kaji Fireson]

December 5th, 2011
Dormitory
Golden Phoenix Institute
Undisclosed Location in Japan

You know I can't let you stay here forever.

Isamu Suzuki is sitting on what is little more than a glorified cot in a picture of cramped living space. The cot is up against the wall of the room, which is the size of your typical college dorm room, but Isamu has crammed so many amenities into the room that it's a wonder he has air to breathe.

At the head of the cot is a desk that houses Isamu's laptop computer and the necessary equipment for his internet signal. Shoved up against the wall between the desk and the door is a massive cart, with a microwave oven on top and a mini fridge tucked underneath. On the other side of the door on the second wall is a stacked dresser set that fits snug between the third wall and the door frame.

Half of the third wall is occupied with a folding table with several electric cooking surfaces (some plugged in, some not) and a two-eye gas-powered cook top. Various kitchenware (pots, plates, silverware, etc.) is contained in a free standing wood cabinet that occupies the other half of the wall. Underneath the table, tucked up against the cabinet, is a bucket of dirty dishes and pots to be taken to wash at the community bathroom sink.

The fourth wall houses the lone window into the room, letting in air and light when Isamu chooses, but there is little in the way of environmental markers or telltales to reveal what part of Japan he is in, and more often than not, he leaves the window closed and the blinds down, letting the facility's climate control moderate the condition of his room.

I cannot go back to Utashinai. I cannot look at Okaasan after what I said to her.

Isamu looks up at his trainer sitting in the chair at his desk. The two men are not terrifically different in terms of height or weight, but if they were standing next to each other, you'd wonder how they ever came to meet, let alone form the unique bond they have.

Isamu Suzuki is the very image of a traditional Japanese man, if you ignore the modern garb, anyhow. Short, unruly hair of purest sable, large brown eyes, and dark skin not unlike that of an Italian man that tanned just a little too long are all features that contrast heavily with the Caucasian in the chair (fading red hair, small blue eyes, light cream colored skin). The look in his eyes as he considers what he thinks of as the ultimate betrayal also differs greatly from the older gentleman, whose eyes betray that conflict with family is old hat for him, a status quo that a conservative Japanese man (and Isamu is very conservative) would find horrifying, if not outright unfathomable.

She'll get over it. When she's old and alone, she'll have time to meditate on what she's done.

Isamu's eyes widen as he searches David's gaze, but the sorrow in his eyes is a far cry from the bitterness in his voice.

At least I only pushed away one child.

Sensei?

David shakes his head to throw that negativity to the wind, letting him return to the present.

If you're going to stay here, Isamu, you have to either train or compete. For months you stayed holed up in here. It's time to get back on the horse. I'm not asking you to face your mother; I know how hard shit like that can be. But fuck, you need to get moving again.

Isamu averts his gaze, suddenly rather intrigued by his electric wok.

I have dishonored myself...

How do you figure that?

Isamu takes his turn at a dark expression, but at least he wrenches it back over to look at David.

I found success very quickly with the support of the fans, and then I abandoned them. I gave the title to Chris Cyrus and fled home to a mother I no longer speak to, and now I'm holed up here to bear the burden of my inadequacy.

This statement, clearly serious (as Isamu casts his gaze back to the ground) produces a sharp, barking laugh from the Golden Phoenix, something that startles Isamu.

You don't get it, do you?

Isamu looks up, moisture threatening to overflow his eye sockets, but David continues to laugh, full of mirth.

The traditions and principles that woman shackled you with have broken. You are free to explore the world at your own pace, find your own reason to live.

Isamu looks completely baffled, so David elaborates.

You are your own man now. Do things because you want to, or because you think they're right, instead of what you think you should want or think.

Isamu still looks out of his depth. David moves from the desk over next to Isamu on the cot, clapping him on the back.

Look, I know you enjoyed wrestling in APW. It was obvious by how you pushed yourself there, and with how you handled yourself in your brief foray outside of APW.

We cut to Isamu getting beaten by Jason Kash in the final, aborted Nasty 8 tournament, then by some random guy in another company.

Then we cut back to Isamu looking sheepishly down at his feet. David pats him on the back and stands up.

Who knows? Once you go back to APW and word gets out to your siblings that you're no longer attached to Noriko's tit, they might reach out to you.

Isamu looks up at David.

Really?

No reason not to. They hated her, not you. Now that you're free they'll probably try to catch up with you.

For the first time in a long time, Isamu smiles. David sees it and grins.

That's what I thought. Now get your gear on; we've got training to catch up on.

Isamu raises an eyebrow.

We do?

Well yeah. Remember that battle royal you were in at Rasslemania VII?

What about it?

David chuckles.

APW is holding a match soon called Survive and Conquer. You'll have to outlast twice as many people as you did last year in that battle royal, and even when you do that, you're not done. The final four wrestlers participate in a cage match. Three men escape and one is out. Those three then have a triple threat street fight, and the man or woman pinned is out. The final two competitors are then locked inside a Hell in a Cell, and the object is to break out of the cage, climb a ladder on top of the cell, and grab the briefcase hanging above the arena.

After David is done explaining Survive and Conquer, Isamu just sits there for a moment, blinking. David just laughs again.

Yeah, you've got catching up to do. Come on, kid.

Isamu heaves a sigh, but is convinced. He then heaves himself up to his feet and follows David out of the room, but before he closes the door, he peeks back into the room, more specifically, at his desk. He looks affectionately at it for a moment before finally leaving and closing the dor. The camera pans over to the desk to show that next to the computer monitor, a wrestling championship belt is propped up in a place of prominence.

APW Suicidal Championship
Isamu Suzuki

December 15th, 2011
Training Hall
Golden Phoenix Institute
Undisclosed Location, Japan

Isamu grunts as he pulls himself up off the floor.

You must be rustier than I thought, kid.

For the ninth time in the last hour, Isamu Suzuki plants his feet on the thin padding outside the ring. The only saving grace is that David's floors are made of hardwood beneath the mats--still unforgiving, but slightly gentler than concrete. With a great effort, born more of will and determination than any strength reserves that might remain in his arms or legs, he pulls his battered body back up on the apron.

Waiting for him in the ring is his trainer, David Fireson, and three of his more experienced trainees. They are each about David's size, all just a little bit larger than Isamu, giving them a built-in advantage in battle royals. The three trainees seem disgruntled, but David is smirking.

I thought for sure you'd be able to leave these kids in the dust. You really have been slacking.

I have been preoccupied--

David barks a laugh once more, which startles both Isamu and the rookies.

You haven't noticed? Every week in this business, someone's fighting with their mother or daughter or son or father or girlfriend or wife or uncle or aunt or cousin or boss or--

We get it!

--or if they're not fighting with loved ones, they've lost them, or else they're fighting some faceless, unspeakable evil to get them back while coming to work and wrestling on the side!

Isamu raises an eyebrow as the trainees look at David funny.

Really?

If you buy into what they want you to believe, they do. I think it's generally a load of horse shit, but there IS a good lesson to be learned from the affair, namely that everybody that steps across from you in the ring has their own shit going on, but they're still showing up to whip your ass, so you have to be prepared to kick ass right back.

I see.

So you can be all upset about your mother on your time, but as long as you're in this ring, you're on my time, am I clear?

Isamu nods.

That goes for the rest of you, as well. I'm a shoulder to lean on anywhere else in the building, but in this room you're in hell, got it?

The trainees huddled around David all answer in unison.

Yes sir!

David nods a bit to himself, liking where this is going.

Alright then, Isamu, you just drew number four in the Survive and Conquer match. Let's see how you fare this time.

Isamu steels himself and steps back into the ring. He's still anxious about his mother, his siblings, and about how the APW fans will receive him, but he's pushing that out of his mind for right now.

Because that's what professionals do.