A Strange Night in Yokohama

The Phoenix leaned back over the cushioned seats. Free drinks only went so far, as his following tapered out after about an hour of horseplay. Umeji, his brother Tomo and their host, Takashi Toritani, centered on small talk. Toritani lamented his time off the field, where his family could not be present at all times. Events like these that strained personal time in favor of keeping a good face. Tomo pressed too far when asking if Umeji felt the same. He stood up for an angry song yet stopped halfway to the machine.

"Give it up Ultra Man," says the Phoenix. "Are you really going to keep that shitty look all night long?"

"Stay out of this."

"Oh I'm in it boy," Walter says, grinding out of their booth. "I brought it front and center."

"I told you to back off--"

"If I knew what that meant. I wouldn't be in the middle of fucking Japan. I'd be in your tiny shoes, wearing that belt!"

Both get within a few paces of each other. Toritani looks stunned while Tomo makes an unsucessful buffer between them. Walter swings first, missing high, where Uemji nails a straight kick to his midsection. He catches Umeji's next shuffling kick--until a pair of bouncers round the bend. Threats of police separate both men until tempers mend. Tomo holds his brother deeper in the booth so that neither have to face each other. An influx of local fans--some for the Tiger's shortstop, and others for the Rising Stars champ--helps to mellow tensions. After a few songs, Umeji's turn comes again.

"Let me pick it."

"No..."

"Come on," Tomo begs, "it'll be fun."

Umeji relents and walks forward, awaiting what judgment his youngest brother will rain down. Childish beats thump to a starlit background. Anime characters filter across making him look like a total dork. No one laughs as hard as their host who's bent at the knee and slapping wildly. Halway to its break, Tomo and Toritani take up extra mics and sing along to the sinfully popular karaoke song.



Walter films the whole thing on Instagram with a starry night filter over top. All three leave the stage laughing their asses off, a scene that also garnered outsider viewers too. A rare gem of happiness capture on phones fortunate enough to be on site. The Phoenix also ordered what proved to be a final round. After salvaging the night, and that last round of decent sake, Walter looked to ruin the peace once more when he asked a damming question.

"How did you come back?" asked the Phoenix. "You know, after I took your mask."

"I found myself," Umeji says through a daggering stare. "Someone beter than you."

"Owch... that was harsh. Nobou, you this place isn't great to me either."

"They don't get seven figures like you do," Tomo adds.

"I do not make that much, brother."

Walter stands up again demanding he show his bank account. Umeji gives him the two-finger "fuck you" before taking a long gulp. Takashi slides back, not wanting to get between them again.

"Here's what I see," Walter says. "You came back here to rub that fucking belt in my face. To prove something to everyone else."

"I came here to defend my belt. Why are you here?"

"Because Tomo invited me."

Both stare back at his youngest brother, now doing his best to hide. When probed for an explanation, he tries to lie. Toritani excuses himself for the restroom before the war can wage around him.

"Stop lying shit stain," Walter says. "Why did you invite me here?"

"Because Nobou won't stop talking that fucking mask!"

"I did not..."

"You have," Tomo says with an overheard gesture, "every single time we spoke of the 'old days' on Skype. Even in the car ride--you brought Walter and his brother Craig."

Walter begins laughing. "He doesn't know about my bro, does he?"

Tomo laughs too. "I never told him, no."

"What?"

"Nobuo," says the Phoenix, "do you remember my brother? He once went by the Dragon."

"Yes, you won the tag titles."

"He's an exotic dancer now."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Walter says, laughing again. "He does it to 'I shot the Sherrif' in a cop outfit."

"I had no idea..."

"Don't look glum, Nobuo. Craig's making better money than me. Like, ten-fold."

Tensions drop for the time being. Takashi shows his face once more, only to bid his new friends goodbye. He and Umeji gather at the doorway for what seemed like a thousand pictures from flashing phones. Against better ideas, Umeji shares a taxi back to his hotel with Tomo and the Phoenix. Now trapped in its backseat, all three reminisce about the old compnay that had since gone defunct. Turns out, their influx of foreign talent cut with larger companies offering bigger contracts and TV time back in the states. Now wrestlers like ater found themselves on the fringe looking for gigs wherever they came up. Hence why Walter's brother, once a great highflyer in his own right, took to a different profession.

"You know, Nobuo," Walter says. "I never wanted to unmask the Ninja."

"But you did all the same."

"Yeah, but it didn't fee right. You built Ryu over like five-six years. It was like murder."

"It was murder," Tomo adds with a gaining smile, "but look where he is now."

"Yeah... look at him."

Umeji changes the subject to old ladder match. Tomo finds footage of it on his phone, prostate before the veteran fighters to enjoy. During this, Umeji neglect a buzzing in his phone. The group lands outside his hotel a few blocks from the PPV arena. As a parting gesture, he pays the driver to take the Phoenix whereever he needs to go on his expsense. A handshake sends that old figure off into the lights of Yokohama's night life. Tomo, twelve years his younger, still has the energy and drive for more adventure in the big city. Umeji on the other hand wants nothing more than a shower and bed. Being his sole bankroll for the weekend, Tomo has no choice but to follow his brother upstairs to a decent studio setup with furniture, an entertainment center, small kitchen and two queen beds. When mixing a cocktail in an on site blender, Umeji checks his phone:



                "No one fires me. If I can't have you, Umeji, then I will destroy you. - Stewie"



"Who's it from," Tomo asks while handing over a slushed maragita, "Spencer Adams?"

"Nobody important," Umeji says with a sip. "When did you learn to make good drinks?"

"I took up bartending last summer."

"Why?"

"Well," he says, "when pop passed. I had to get something that paid."

"What about the store?"

"Reo and Kazue run it now. Reo forced me to clean the floors."

"I cleaned those floors before you were born," Umeji says. "It is not demeaning work."

They talk up the family business--just another small-town bodega in the country between Kobe and Nishinomiya--now run by their brother and sister repsectively. Kazue, the better at maths, does the books while their brother Reo acts as the floor manager to their teenage employees. Talks tire his brother into bed first. Now alone, Umeji answers that lone unanswered message:


                                                "Bring it, fat boy. - U"