Post by The Texas Crippler on Jun 21, 2015 8:11:10 GMT -6
The GFP Civil War between Ai and HAN had been driving me insane for the better part of two months now. I needed away from it, in the worst possible way, and with the collapse of the Total J Cup (which I was unwittingly signed up for), when I’d heard of an open spot in a tournament hosted by EXODUS Pro, I took advantage of it...I got myself entered, if for no other reason than to get out of Japan for a while, to not be stuck in the family bickering that had encompassed my life. It was almost refreshing to escape the constant back and forth, the insufferable bantering back and forth, the complaints about contracts and management, the inept leaders and even more inept wrestlers that filled the majority of the rosters...the primadonna attitudes of a lot of the foreign wrestlers that came to the GFP looking for a chance in Japan…
I hated every single one of them.
Foreign, domestic; heavyweight, junior heavyweight; male, female; there were almost none on the roster I could tolerate, and fewer that I had any respect for. The majority of them were loud-mouthed, obnoxious, and not good for much more than a quote. Most of them spent more time filling twitter with inane babblings than actually wrestling. Banks constantly calling everyone in existence a “peasant,” while expecting all of Japan to kneel in front of her...Valero and Kobayashi bickering over who the “real MVP should be,” Suzuki’s Hallmark card tweets for a minute, only for him to disappear off the planet…
I struggled more to take any of them seriously than I did with them in the ring.
It’s one of many reasons I’ve come to dread every match I’m put in; every time I’m forced to step in the ring, I find myself hating it a little more. These...I can’t even call them people, these creatures that seem to exist to torment what few sane people become professional wrestlers in the first place...they fill the halls of every stadium, concert hall, school gymnasium, and backyard that I’ve wrestled in. It’s almost like the follow me around...and their presence was draining me of any desire I had to continue.
Ironically...I’d find the woman who replenished that desire in EXODUS.
Going by the name Saikosoma now...I know her as Saiko Yunokawa; most people know her as Laurel Anne Hardy. One of few who gave me what I needed out of a fight: a fight. One of few people who didn’t waste their time with one-liners or pointless bickering. She and I went to war simply because we wanted to. Might be more correct to say we NEEDED to. It was one reason I actually considered the EXODUS Honor Cup...if it was a place that someone like Saiko Yunokawa could be content, maybe it was a place I could travel to on occasion. Maybe it was a place I could wrestle at that wouldn’t drain every ounce of willpower to walk down the aisle, to climb in between ropes…
Maybe it was a place that would actually be worth it.
The hardest part about the trip was getting out of Japan without being noticed. This wasn’t a GFP sponsored excursion, like the Total J Cup was supposed to be...it wasn’t a trip either HAN or Ai even knew I was making, it wasn’t a match they knew I was taking, and I was content to keep it that way. If either side of the GFP discovered I was wrestling in America, I could expect their recruitment efforts to ramp up...and I didn’t want to hear from either of them.
Despite everything from the last six months or so...I just wanted a chance to wrestle.
I’d had one fulfilling match in that entire time frame. One. And that was fast affirming my want to take a step away from wrestling, to go back to the private life and just be Miharu Ishikawa again; to get away from this repulsive industry that shortened...or even ended lives, that craved bloodshed and violence, that didn’t care who you were as a person, so long as you could be entertaining for a few minutes. I wanted, so badly, to get away from everything about wrestling...the Honor Cup was billed to me as an opportunity for a wrestler to actually wrestle. It was billed to me as an opportunity to get back to just being a wrestler.
To be Michiko Yamada. Not a bargaining chip, a favored toy, or the deathmatch specialist.
I hadn’t expected much. I hadn’t expected the name Michiko Yamada to mean anything to the majority of them...in an honest moment, I would’ve been amazed if even Yunokawa realized I’d signed up for the Honor Cup. I hadn’t expected anything except to be entered...and, maybe, despite the placement on the show and the quality of the opposition I was presented...the result was less being recognized, more a chance to test one of their bigger names. Someone I’d even heard of, on another continent.
Michiko Yamada v. Savannah Taylor…
This...was something I could be interested in.
I hated every single one of them.
Foreign, domestic; heavyweight, junior heavyweight; male, female; there were almost none on the roster I could tolerate, and fewer that I had any respect for. The majority of them were loud-mouthed, obnoxious, and not good for much more than a quote. Most of them spent more time filling twitter with inane babblings than actually wrestling. Banks constantly calling everyone in existence a “peasant,” while expecting all of Japan to kneel in front of her...Valero and Kobayashi bickering over who the “real MVP should be,” Suzuki’s Hallmark card tweets for a minute, only for him to disappear off the planet…
I struggled more to take any of them seriously than I did with them in the ring.
It’s one of many reasons I’ve come to dread every match I’m put in; every time I’m forced to step in the ring, I find myself hating it a little more. These...I can’t even call them people, these creatures that seem to exist to torment what few sane people become professional wrestlers in the first place...they fill the halls of every stadium, concert hall, school gymnasium, and backyard that I’ve wrestled in. It’s almost like the follow me around...and their presence was draining me of any desire I had to continue.
Ironically...I’d find the woman who replenished that desire in EXODUS.
Going by the name Saikosoma now...I know her as Saiko Yunokawa; most people know her as Laurel Anne Hardy. One of few who gave me what I needed out of a fight: a fight. One of few people who didn’t waste their time with one-liners or pointless bickering. She and I went to war simply because we wanted to. Might be more correct to say we NEEDED to. It was one reason I actually considered the EXODUS Honor Cup...if it was a place that someone like Saiko Yunokawa could be content, maybe it was a place I could travel to on occasion. Maybe it was a place I could wrestle at that wouldn’t drain every ounce of willpower to walk down the aisle, to climb in between ropes…
Maybe it was a place that would actually be worth it.
The hardest part about the trip was getting out of Japan without being noticed. This wasn’t a GFP sponsored excursion, like the Total J Cup was supposed to be...it wasn’t a trip either HAN or Ai even knew I was making, it wasn’t a match they knew I was taking, and I was content to keep it that way. If either side of the GFP discovered I was wrestling in America, I could expect their recruitment efforts to ramp up...and I didn’t want to hear from either of them.
Despite everything from the last six months or so...I just wanted a chance to wrestle.
I’d had one fulfilling match in that entire time frame. One. And that was fast affirming my want to take a step away from wrestling, to go back to the private life and just be Miharu Ishikawa again; to get away from this repulsive industry that shortened...or even ended lives, that craved bloodshed and violence, that didn’t care who you were as a person, so long as you could be entertaining for a few minutes. I wanted, so badly, to get away from everything about wrestling...the Honor Cup was billed to me as an opportunity for a wrestler to actually wrestle. It was billed to me as an opportunity to get back to just being a wrestler.
To be Michiko Yamada. Not a bargaining chip, a favored toy, or the deathmatch specialist.
I hadn’t expected much. I hadn’t expected the name Michiko Yamada to mean anything to the majority of them...in an honest moment, I would’ve been amazed if even Yunokawa realized I’d signed up for the Honor Cup. I hadn’t expected anything except to be entered...and, maybe, despite the placement on the show and the quality of the opposition I was presented...the result was less being recognized, more a chance to test one of their bigger names. Someone I’d even heard of, on another continent.
Michiko Yamada v. Savannah Taylor…
This...was something I could be interested in.
I almost hated to descend into cliche...but I sat in a fairly plain room, staring at a candle that sat in the middle of the small dinner table before me. I folded my legs underneath me, vaguely aware of the fact that I’d set my camera to record...even as I deliberately turned my back to the camera itself. I always hated this part of the job. How does what I do or don’t say affect what I do when the bell rings? How does it affect who I am?
“They say she’s one of the best…or that she will be.”
When I was told I was facing Savannah Taylor, I didn’t need to brush up on who she was. Between EXODUS’s recent time spent in Japan and a reputation that preceded her, the announcement was one that actually had me eager for the match...it was strange to have that feeling back.
“They say it’s only a matter of time before she’s on top…”
It was almost hypnotic, watching the wax melt away from the candle. One of those strangely zen feelings--cause and effect, perhaps. No ambiguous motivation, no tricks, no ploys...fire melts wax, wax drips down the candle. I couldn’t keep myself from chuckling a little bit…
“They say she’ll drag you to your own demise. And you’ll go along, happily.
“A modern myth...the Siren, alive and well…”
I hadn’t even attended a post-show press conference...almost since the GFP had inked my initial contract. I’d been forced into the one ahead of the Tag Team Championship match, but since then...I’d barely even issued a public statement, let alone filmed one of these things…
I was starting to remember why.
“It is...difficult to argue with results. One of the more successful recent champions in EXODUS’s history, and very nearly earning another championship mere weeks ago. Very nearly beating another of the growing tribe of professional wrestlers who style themselves monsters...monsters, because of their height...or because of their size...or because of their strength. These are the same people that would call painting their home a neon color ‘crazy’ and describe someone that preferred a Playstation over a Nintendo as ‘psycho.’
“Nevertheless...the feat would’ve been impressive…”
I didn’t feel like I even needed to finish the thought…
It would’ve been…had it been accomplished.
“I admit...I’m less concerned with whether she won or lost the match...whether she does or does not hold a title in this company. Even if she had succeeded...it wouldn’t mean anything but that she was carrying the trophy to the ring for the match. It wouldn’t be anything but decoration for people to gawk at, something that could be celebrated...or vilified.
“The effort she put in...the fight she had in that match is what interested me. The fact that the reputation isn’t just talk, that she has the ability to put up a fight...that’s what I need out of this match. That’s what I need out of this trip...I need someone with the fortitude to fight. I need someone that feels...any kind of passion for a fight.
“I’ve been lacking it...for a long time.”
Even I was surprised by the...somberness of that line. And wrestling was never something I exactly held sacred…I did it because I was good at it, not because of some honor code.
Did that make it ironic, that I’d entered the Honor Cup?
“The occasions in which I really care have been increasingly uncommon lately...I can count on one hand the times I fought with any level of passion in the last year. Fewer, the times that I truly cared. It was becoming a case of doing what was familiar, not what I should be doing...I took matches not because I could, or because I was good at it, but because it was habit...and the habit was difficult to break.
“That...that is where you come in, Savannah.
“That...is where the lure of the Siren’s Song filled my mind.”
I just laughed to myself a little bit...somehow, the fact that I needed to go to a different country, to face a total stranger, in a tournament even I didn’t fully expect myself to win...I had to do all of that to find ANYTHING interesting…
I suppose I could’ve called Yunokawa and destroyed another house...fought in front of no one just for the sake of the violence in it...sometimes, I think that’s the only thing left in Japan for me, a rematch of the violent affair we put on a few months back.
“You...and this entire tournament represent something that interests me. Something that, for the first time in a long time, has broken through the dull, caked on layers of apathy. The Honor Cup might be the first thing in months that I’ve actually looked forward to since learning about it...the fact that I drew someone that can actually give me a fight makes it even better. Because rather than squabble about whose catchphrase is better...whose nickname is better...whose ring gear or entrance music is better...I can look at this match and see the fight that it can be.
“I’m doing something I don’t...typically do, in this case, Siren--I’m trusting you. I’m trusting you to come into this match with...if not malice, at least aggression. I’m trusting you to come in looking to do every bit of damage you possibly can to me...to give me reason to look forward to this, to make this trip of mine worth it.
“I’m trusting you...to make this match what many of my…peers...”
Ugh…
The word spit out of my mouth like it was bad milk. Disgusted, abrupt, and not the least bit desirable.
“...can’t...or won’t give me.
“I’m not going to waste everyone’s time with the kind of proclamations that normally come from a debut...that I’m going to run rampant over this tournament, that I’m going to be the greatest thing you’ve ever seen...I’m not going to waste your time or my own with the act; I will tell you, however...that if you’re not prepared to give me the kind of fight I need, the kind of fight worth crossing continents for...then you should re-consider this match. Reconsider this tournament…it won’t be something you want to experience...”
I found myself staring at the candle gain, hypnotized, for probably longer than I intended to. I could almost hear the Siren’s song, somewhere in the back of my mind…
Heh...
“In the myth of the Siren...if their song was heard, and resisted...the Siren would kill itself. This is me, Siren...hearing your song.
“It’s up to you to be the one to pull me under water.”
Finally, knowing I had nothing else to say, I reached out and grabbed the camera, almost prepared to go ahead and turn it off...then, for some reason, I found myself hesitating. Maybe, for a moment, I thought I had another line...
I let the shot sit still for a moment longer, despite finding myself staring...past the camera, rather than at it. Eventually, though, I killed the recording, and let the scene fade to black. Remembering, now, why I avoid the GFP’s press conferences.
I hate making these public statements...
“They say she’s one of the best…or that she will be.”
When I was told I was facing Savannah Taylor, I didn’t need to brush up on who she was. Between EXODUS’s recent time spent in Japan and a reputation that preceded her, the announcement was one that actually had me eager for the match...it was strange to have that feeling back.
“They say it’s only a matter of time before she’s on top…”
It was almost hypnotic, watching the wax melt away from the candle. One of those strangely zen feelings--cause and effect, perhaps. No ambiguous motivation, no tricks, no ploys...fire melts wax, wax drips down the candle. I couldn’t keep myself from chuckling a little bit…
“They say she’ll drag you to your own demise. And you’ll go along, happily.
“A modern myth...the Siren, alive and well…”
I hadn’t even attended a post-show press conference...almost since the GFP had inked my initial contract. I’d been forced into the one ahead of the Tag Team Championship match, but since then...I’d barely even issued a public statement, let alone filmed one of these things…
I was starting to remember why.
“It is...difficult to argue with results. One of the more successful recent champions in EXODUS’s history, and very nearly earning another championship mere weeks ago. Very nearly beating another of the growing tribe of professional wrestlers who style themselves monsters...monsters, because of their height...or because of their size...or because of their strength. These are the same people that would call painting their home a neon color ‘crazy’ and describe someone that preferred a Playstation over a Nintendo as ‘psycho.’
“Nevertheless...the feat would’ve been impressive…”
I didn’t feel like I even needed to finish the thought…
It would’ve been…had it been accomplished.
“I admit...I’m less concerned with whether she won or lost the match...whether she does or does not hold a title in this company. Even if she had succeeded...it wouldn’t mean anything but that she was carrying the trophy to the ring for the match. It wouldn’t be anything but decoration for people to gawk at, something that could be celebrated...or vilified.
“The effort she put in...the fight she had in that match is what interested me. The fact that the reputation isn’t just talk, that she has the ability to put up a fight...that’s what I need out of this match. That’s what I need out of this trip...I need someone with the fortitude to fight. I need someone that feels...any kind of passion for a fight.
“I’ve been lacking it...for a long time.”
Even I was surprised by the...somberness of that line. And wrestling was never something I exactly held sacred…I did it because I was good at it, not because of some honor code.
Did that make it ironic, that I’d entered the Honor Cup?
“The occasions in which I really care have been increasingly uncommon lately...I can count on one hand the times I fought with any level of passion in the last year. Fewer, the times that I truly cared. It was becoming a case of doing what was familiar, not what I should be doing...I took matches not because I could, or because I was good at it, but because it was habit...and the habit was difficult to break.
“That...that is where you come in, Savannah.
“That...is where the lure of the Siren’s Song filled my mind.”
I just laughed to myself a little bit...somehow, the fact that I needed to go to a different country, to face a total stranger, in a tournament even I didn’t fully expect myself to win...I had to do all of that to find ANYTHING interesting…
I suppose I could’ve called Yunokawa and destroyed another house...fought in front of no one just for the sake of the violence in it...sometimes, I think that’s the only thing left in Japan for me, a rematch of the violent affair we put on a few months back.
“You...and this entire tournament represent something that interests me. Something that, for the first time in a long time, has broken through the dull, caked on layers of apathy. The Honor Cup might be the first thing in months that I’ve actually looked forward to since learning about it...the fact that I drew someone that can actually give me a fight makes it even better. Because rather than squabble about whose catchphrase is better...whose nickname is better...whose ring gear or entrance music is better...I can look at this match and see the fight that it can be.
“I’m doing something I don’t...typically do, in this case, Siren--I’m trusting you. I’m trusting you to come into this match with...if not malice, at least aggression. I’m trusting you to come in looking to do every bit of damage you possibly can to me...to give me reason to look forward to this, to make this trip of mine worth it.
“I’m trusting you...to make this match what many of my…peers...”
Ugh…
The word spit out of my mouth like it was bad milk. Disgusted, abrupt, and not the least bit desirable.
“...can’t...or won’t give me.
“I’m not going to waste everyone’s time with the kind of proclamations that normally come from a debut...that I’m going to run rampant over this tournament, that I’m going to be the greatest thing you’ve ever seen...I’m not going to waste your time or my own with the act; I will tell you, however...that if you’re not prepared to give me the kind of fight I need, the kind of fight worth crossing continents for...then you should re-consider this match. Reconsider this tournament…it won’t be something you want to experience...”
I found myself staring at the candle gain, hypnotized, for probably longer than I intended to. I could almost hear the Siren’s song, somewhere in the back of my mind…
Heh...
“In the myth of the Siren...if their song was heard, and resisted...the Siren would kill itself. This is me, Siren...hearing your song.
“It’s up to you to be the one to pull me under water.”
Finally, knowing I had nothing else to say, I reached out and grabbed the camera, almost prepared to go ahead and turn it off...then, for some reason, I found myself hesitating. Maybe, for a moment, I thought I had another line...
I let the shot sit still for a moment longer, despite finding myself staring...past the camera, rather than at it. Eventually, though, I killed the recording, and let the scene fade to black. Remembering, now, why I avoid the GFP’s press conferences.
I hate making these public statements...