[Wild fang project] Garouden I pure fighting action novel Page 7

  The foreign wrestler floored the Japanese wrestler and brought his elbow down into his back. The Japanese wrestler crawled back up undeterred. The foreign wrestler who had pulled the Japanese wrestler up to his feet. He grabbed the Japanese wrestler by the shoulder and arm, and threw him.

  [077]

  The Japanese wrestler flew back-first into the corner of the ring. The foreign wrestler then charged into the Japanese wrestler with his shoulder. He buried his shoulder into the Japanese wrestler's body. The ref was about stop the fight, but the foreign wrestler had no intention of stopping. The booming voice of the announcer continued non-stop.

  “Shit,” Ryoji said to Bunshichi, “this is bullshit, why are we even watching it?” Bunshichi didn't answer. Instead he just brought a sake cup up to his lips. He was thinking about the past. The bar he was in now felt like the bar he had been drinking in with Saito. He was about as old as Ryoji is now. Bunshichi could still remember the look in Saito's eyes the moment he died. The Japanese wrestler appeared again with a black eye. The image of Saito's face hovered over the face of the Japanese wrestler in Bunshichi's mind. He wondered if Saito was ever in a match like this one. Bunshichi didn't notice his cup had ran dry as he had been thinking so much. Ryoji filled Bunshichi's cup with liquor as he had been doing all night. He was sulking a little.

  “This is all scripted though isn't it? These fights are fixed for sure,” said Ryoji. Bunshichi turned and faced Ryoji for the first time. There was a light in his eyes that Ryoji had never seen before.

  [078]

  “Dude, what?” asked Ryoji. He spoke as if he felt pressure coming from Bunshichi's stare. Bunshichi remained silent.

  “What is it?” Ryoji asked again.

  “Maybe it is scripted, I don't know,” said Bunshichi in a low voice, “but there is one thing I know for certain,” he went on, subtle fear in his voice.

  “...” Ryoji remained silent.

  “Some of them are really strong,” said Bunshichi, as sharp gleam in his eyes.

  That was when the announcer called out the Japanese wrestler's name, Kajiwara. That's right Mr Kawabe, it looks like Kajiwara has returned. The announcer was speaking to the commentator. At some point the foreign wrestler had won the match and the TV screen had switched over to the announcer and the commentator. He certainly has, and it would be nice if he were able to bring the championship belt home with him. The commentator answered the announcer with a smooth voice.

  There came a sharp sound from inside Bunshichi's hand. It was the sound of his sake cup cracking between his fingers.

  PART TWO : THE GRUDGE

  The End.

  PART III: THE PAST

  CHAPTER I

  [079]

  It was a narrow road. There was nothing there save a simple, abandoned mechanics workshop. The inside wasn't even set up properly. There was a ring, some dumb bells, a bench press, and a punching bag that hung form the ceiling. A simple tarpaulin sheet divided the training room from the shower room. The rolling garage doors were open, but the training room was still hot and muggy.

  In front of the ring lay a pair of koshti; dumb-bell like training equipment that are used to increase arm strength. They are thick wooden club-like objects, around 60 centimeters in length. The handles are thinner, but they still weigh about 11 kg each. You pick up one with each hand and push them up above your shoulders. They are made in Pakistan. They work your forearm muscles, triceps and deltoids. You lift them over your back and back forward again. Even those who are confident in their arm strength see them as a challenge.

  The summer sun beat down from above out side of the training room. The sunlight cast a thick shadow from the roof.

  [080]

  The heat from inside the training room, however, was not borne from the light above. The heat from the bodies of men training in silence far outweighed the heat of the sun.

  It was a hot day. It would have been around around 38 degrees. You would break a sweat just by standing up. The sun felt like sandpaper on the shoulders. Bunshichi Tanba stood in the sun, looking into the training room. He was only wearing jeans and a t-shirt. There was a sports bag sitting at his feet. There were two middle school aged boys holding cameras, their lenses pointed at the men inside. While they were outside of the training room, there wasn't really anything fencing them off. The rolling garage doors that divided the inside and outside were raised. The two school boys were whispering the names of the wrestlers they recognized as the held their lenses up to take pictures. They were using zoom lenses that were pretty expensive for a kid in middle school.

  In the ring there were a group of three wrestlers practicing their grappling moves. One wrestler had another wrestler in a lock and had bent his wrist and elbow back impossibly far. The wrestler caught in the hold struck back at his opponent with his free hand. The wrestler released his hold and began trying to make another one. You couldn't ignore the strong smell of oil that hung in the air.

  “OK,” came a low voice from inside. The voice came from a short and dumpy man, who looked short compared to the others. The men training both in and out of the ring stopped what they were doing. Everyone was dripping with sweat.

  [081]

  Most of the wrestlers were wearing t-shirts. Old, worn out T-shirts. A subtle look of relief fell over the faces of the wrestlers. Even if you were to call them wrestlers, they all still looked quite young. They all had fresh cuts and bruises on their faces. It didn't look like there were any new members there either. It was more like they had finally found enough members to run classes. The short and dumpy man, the one who had called out before, was holding a bamboo fighting stick.

  “Kawabe!” The middle school students next to Bunshichi whispered to each other as the raised their cameras. It seems that Kawabe was the name of the short and stumpy man. He glimpsed over towards Bunshichi. He silently returned the gaze. Kawabe took a couple of steps towards Bunshichi. It seemed as though Kawabe had taken notice of him, who had been standing there with a cold glare for a while.

  “You here to join up?” grunted Kawabe.

  “No,” said Bunshichi. He had no intention of joining. He didn't have much interest in pro-wrestling. He hadn't even realized that there were training halls for pro-wrestlers. He had just been walking past, saw people training and decided to stop and take a look. He didn't know that it was a training hall for a group of pro-wrestlers. Wrestlers have much more muscle on their bodies than you would imagine on a normal person, but Bunshichi thought that their fights were nothing but one big show. He remembered having reading comments from wrestlers that their matches were not fixed. The are serious fights, they have real muscles... that's what Bunshichi remembers reading.

  [082]

  But then, if you wanted something serious, the same could be said about acrobats up on a circus tightrope, as they too are serious and have real muscles. Being serious and having muscles were just signs of putting on a good show. Bunshichi thought the wrestlers bouncing each other off the ropes of the wrestling ring was just a waste of time. He couldn't say he was a huge fan of the free for all matches where people could use weapons. It was juts too ridiculous watching those huge men pretend that they were fighting. With that in mind, standing here watching reasonably serious practice fights took Bunshichi off-guard. Although didn't change his opinion of pro-wrestling.

  Kawabe looked Bunshichi over with an unrelenting stare. He moved a little closer. He was shorter than Bunshichi, but he was wider around the middle. If you were to only see an outline of his body, he would probably look obese, but looking at him close up you could tell that he was made of muscle. It looked like an untrained fist would probably bounce right off of him. The fabric of his t-shirt, which was wrapped around his muscles, had begun to stretch.

  “You're in pretty good shape,” said Kawabe. His voice was rough, as if his throat had collapsed. A dark spot had formed in Bunshichi's moss-green t shirt from sweat.

  “Beef up a little more and you'd be perfect,�
� said Kawabe.

  “I was thinking the same thing,” said Bunshichi. He stood at 160cm tall and weighed 98kgs. That's how big Bunshichi was back then.

  [083]

  He still had the body of a 25 year old. It was the kind of body that forged through training. He wasn't bulky however. Bunshichi thought that putting on my more muscle than necessary would be a waste.

  “Are you in training for something?” asked Kawabe.

  “Karate,” said Bunshichi.

  “Oh, right,” said Kawabe sounding less than impressed. It seemed like any interest he had in Bunshichi was now gone. Kawabe turned his back on Bunshichi. Kawabe didn't say anything but, Bunshichi took that as an insult.

  “Wait just minute,” said Bunshichi.

  “What?”

  “Who is the strongest one here?"

  “You want the strongest?” asked Kawabe, his eyes narrowing as he spoke, “they are all about the same level, and we are just now trying to see who's the strongest.”

  “What about the others?”

  “Others?”

  “The older members.”

  “They are all on a provincial tour.”

  “Are they now?”

  “Yeah, the main fighters as well as some of openers and the main-eventer. Everyone here is either a opener or below”. All the fighters around the ring were standing and staring at Bunshichi as they caught their breath. They looked as if they thought something might happen.

  “Who's strong?” Bunshichi asked again.

  “Our strongest Toyoo pro-wrestler is our boss, right?” said Kawabe as he looked around the room.

  [084]

  A few of them had grins on their faces. Kawabe was talking about The Great Tatsumi, their 'boss', who was the main-eventer. It's not uncommon for groups in the wrestling world to have one top fighter, or a 'boss' who acts as draw-card to entice people to come to matches. When Kawabe said that their boss was strong, he was also talking about his ability to draw a crowd. Bunshichi, however, didn't quite understand what Kawabe was talking about. Bunshichi thought that Kawabe might have a few screws loose.

  “Let me take a crack at your strongest wrestler,” said Bunshichi. His voice had changed. Bunshichi didn't even think about what he was saying until the words had left his mouth. Kawabe looked at Bunshichi with an annoyed look on his face.

  “You're here to challenge our Dojo?”

  “That's right.”

  “Forget it, you'll only get yourself hurt,” said Kawabe before turning back again. There was a tangible sense of nervousness that came from the young wrestlers.

  “We get people like you come by every now and then,” said Kawabe. It was the first time Bunshichi had heard someone call a training hall for wrestlers a Dojo, but then if people were coming to challenge the Dojo, then it would have to be called a wrestling Dojo. It seemed like Bunshichi wasn't the first to challenge them. The other wrestlers look genuinely curious. How far would he get? What kind of moves would he use? Would Kawabe take him up on his offer? Who would he face off against? Bunshichi knew what they were thinking.

  Looking around the room, Bunshichi could tell that the wrestlers were big, but most of the them looked quite young. They all had piercing eyes, even if some of the them were still in their teens.

  [085]

  “You won't know until you let me try” said Bunshichi, pursing his lips defiantly.

  “That's what they all say,” said Kawabe as he scratched at his neck with the fat index finger of his left hand.

  “Well, I guess you can't have a matches if you don't have a proper ring,” Bunshichi mumbled. Kawabe's expression quickly changed. He looked at Bunshichi with an intense glare. It was almost as if Kawabe's entire body puffed up for a moment. He narrowed his eyes, tilted his head down a little and looked straight at Bunshichi.

  “You can't back out,” said Kawabe, slowly and quietly, “even if you get down on your knees and beg.” Kawabe's voice was getting lower and lower as he spoke.

  “I don't intend to back out.”

  “I don't want to hear any complaints if you break an arm.”

  “You wont.”

  “It won't be my problem if you can't walk home because you're so messed up.”

  “That's fine,” said Bunshichi. Kawabe finally nodded his head. Once he lifted his head, Kawabe looked straight at Bunshichi.

  “I'm gonna need you to sign an agreement.”

  “Agreement?”

  “Saying that you won't complain if you get your arm broken,” said Kawabe. He had a look on face that said 'get yourself out of here before you get yourself hurt'. Bunshichi faced Kawabe and returned his stare.

  “You should probably sign one as well,” said Bunshichi.

  “Me?”

  “Aren't you the one that's going to take me on?”

  “No, not me. You'd wind up dead if you took me on.”

  [086]

  “I thought you'd say that.”

  “Oh really?”

  “It's the same everywhere I go. Everyone I challenge gives me the same answer.”

  “...”

  “They always get one of the younger members to stand in for them. They never do it themselves. It's always the same thing.”

  Kawabe fell silent for a moment. His lips parted slightly as he began to re-think the situation.

  “No, I better not.”

  “Are you going to let the boss take your place?”

  “No, the boss ain't here. He's not here, but there is someone else that might be a good match for you,” said Kawabe as he turned and looked behind him, “someone get me a pen and some paper.” One of the younger members brought over a pad and a pencil. Kawabe took the paper and pencil and walked over to the side of the ring. He put the pad down on the ring and started writing something.

  “Come here,” he called out to Bunshichi once he had finished writing. “How does this sound?” Bunshichi looked down at the paper sitting on the ring. It was laid out quite simply.

  The top line read, 'Agreement', followed by the following passage;

  'I agree that regardless of what may happen in today's match, no responsibility will fall on my opponent.'

  Next to that passage there were spaces for two people to sign their names and the date. The lettering was quite skillful.

  [087]

  One of the younger fighters got the ink ready for their personal seals.

  “Sign your name and stamp you seal,” said Kawabe. Bunshichi took the pencil, signed his name and stamped his seal. He wasn't really sure if something like this would stand up in court. However, he really had no intention of complaining should he lose the fight. He wouldn't want his opponent to complain either. Bunshichi thought that a contract like this would benefit himself.

  He had watched them train and was impressed at their strength. However he didn't think he would lose. Bunshichi was training as well. At least four hours a day. He thought that his training was harder than theirs. Also, Bunshichi thought, he wasn't putting on a show. He was fighting for real. He was confident. He had taken on guys with knives more than a few times. He had no intention of holding back. If he let his guard down he would wind up with a broken arm.

  “Who's my opponent?” asked Bunshichi.

  “I'm not really sure who to pick. I'll be able to choose a good opponent once I see how good you really are. Although anyone would do against you.” Kawabe's voice was quiet, all the way to the last word. There were probably some people who made it this far only to turn around and run home.

  “Go and give that punching bag a kick,” said Kawabe.

  “You trying to see my fighting style?”

  “Were not going to see your fighting style just from a couple of kicks to a sand bag. Just give it a kick, you don't have to give it one hundred percent. You were looking down on us training, weren't you?”

  [088]

  “Could you let me get changed first? I can't really move in these clothes. I'll kick it once I've changed.”

>   “Alright, go get changed in that shower room over there.” Kawabe motioned to the shower room next to them with his chin. Bunshichi nodded without saying anything. He grabbed his bag and walked over to the 'shower room'. It was a pretty shabby looking shower room. It was in the corner of the hall. There was a support beam which had tarpaulins to the left and right attached with wires. He could hear the sound of running water. Someone inside was having a shower.

  “Someone's already in there,” said Bunshichi.

  “Who's in there?” Kawabe called out to the young man in the showers.

  “It's me, Kajiwara.”

  “Oh, it's him.” The sound of running water stopped as soon as Kawabe spoke. The curtain got pulled to the side. A young man, still dripping with water, sluggishly stepped out of the shower room. Bunshichi felt as though a cliff face made of muscle had suddenly appeared before him. He stood looking at a man who was even bigger than he was. He had small, round, charming eyes. He was about the same age as Bunshichi, perhaps a little younger. He wasn't the macho type. His skin sagged just a little bit.

  He was completely naked. You could clearly see what was hanging from his crotch. He didn't have much hair on his body. His eyelashes were cute and lady-like.