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The Longest Winter; Continued from Chapter 29 [Resurrection RP 2]
Topic Started: Apr 4 2010, 02:43 AM (254 Views)
Night
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sVo Legend
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
"August 30th, 2008 - Kansai Airport, Osaka, Japan"

A long and painful flight, alleviated only by a bittersweet landing.

Rather reluctantly I step from the boarding gate into Kansai Airport, in Osaka. It has been many months since I've seen my homeland - Japan - and still, I can't help but feel uneasy. Of course I am happy to be back. Being away for so long I had obviously become a little homesick. But with sVo's recent closure, I was out of a job once more.

Master Kimura strolls beside me. He had assured me that with my tenure in sVo other federations would come calling left, right and centre. This brings me some comfort... but there is still something.

I did nearly all there was to do in sVo.

Former Hardcore Champion - the last International Champion. In one night I'd pinned three opponents and won two matches! And yet, I could never claim the top prize.

Twice I was defeated by Stevo... TWICE. The first time, no one expected me to put up a good match for the veteran champion. But I've never been one to listen to everyone - I gave him a run for his money. The rematch didn't bring the gold either. And when I later had a number one contender's match... I was defeated by one Alex Ross en route to him winning the title.

So now here I am.

Back in Japan. sVo gone forever. The sVo International Title lies safely in my suitcase... I'll give it back should they ever ask me for it. The sVo World Title is with its last owner, never to be mine. Sadly I shake my head.

And it is now that I notice just how cheerful my mentor looks for a man having just stepped off a flight from LAX to Osaka direct. It is an even greater contrast to the way he has behaved for the last few weeks. Since 'The Shadows' or whatever they called themselves became a presence.

And now here we are.

No sVo... no shadows... and a happy Master Kimura.

As we approach customs, he is practically skipping and his happiness at the same situation that is making me so miserable is too much to bear.


NIGHT: Was our time at sVo REALLY that bad?

He stares at me, a confused expression on his face. I try to stop, but I can't.

NIGHT: I'm sorry that you were miserable or scared or bored or WHATEVER the hell was happening with you in the last few weeks of sVo, Master. How selfish of me to have tried to carry on as best I could while you stressed away, running from shadows. Never one to complain though - no... you're far too selfless. No one asked you to come and join me, you know?

My mouth has a mind of its own.

NIGHT: You've been a wrestling trainer for how long now? Since when do you leave the dojo to go work with a graduate? To follow them around and expect them to fight your battles? Why not Shigeru? Why not Elijah or my brothers, Hiroshi and Ryuu? Why me?

The sheepish look on his face and the shocked looks on the faces of all around us fills me with a huge sense of shame. I drop my gaze to the floor - trying to avoid their gazes, but Master Kimura's above all others.

KIMURA: You are special, my son.

Ugh.

Now I really feel like an ass.


KIMURA: You were always the one who was going to go the furthest of them. You always had the biggest potential, but Night, you know that sometimes you require guidance - and that is why I came.

NIGHT: I'm sorry for my outburst.

I speak quietly now. I have never risen my voice to my mentor before and the embarrassment I feel is only made worse by his understanding and calm forgiveness.

KIMURA: I'm sorry you never won the World Title.

I stare at him dumbly.

NIGHT: I don't understand.

KIMURA: Well, you and I both know you won't have trouble finding a new federation now that you're a free agent again with the matches you were having in sVo - and something clearly has you on edge, it's clearly not a concern for future employment. I've been involved in wrestling for long enough to be able to read wrestlers. To know what motivates them, drives them. To know how they work and find the will to do what they do.

He places a hand on my shoulder.

KIMURA: You've always been a dreamer and a perfectionist. I can tell that it bothers you that you will never hold that title despite having had two shots at it.

NIGHT: Thanks, Master, I hadn't thought of it that way. That's not depressing at all...

He chuckles and I realize we are already near the front of the line.

KIMURA: Well, if it makes you feel any better, you would have started thinking like that eventually, whether or not I said anything. I know it makes me feel better.

Another boisterous laugh from my mentor as we move to a nearby counter.

It's almost frightening when someone knows you better than you know yourself.


--------------------------------
"June 3rd, 2009 - KIMURA Dojo, Kyoto, Japan"

Concealed by the forests east of Kyoto, at the base of the Higashiyama mountains lies a large, traditional Japanese building. Completely surrounded by trees, it lies deceptively close to the main road leading further east - making it both highly accessible and yet hard to see. A large sign with kanji characters hangs above the main entrance.

"KIMURA Dojo"

The famed puroresu dojo is housed in a building which was once an ancient aikido dojo responsible for the training of thousands of swordsmen. But this is a different day in Japan and now a new breed of warriors call it their home. Once a long, multi-room building also housing several of the students as well as serving as training facilities, it seems to have received something of a modernization inside. Now essentially a four room building - a kitchen, change-room/bathroom, the master's quarters and, the largest room, a huge training room housing a large wrestling ring in the centre as well as several large mats spread across the floor as well as weights, punching bags, kick shields and focus pads. Lining the walls of the dojo are photos of some of the dojo's more prominent students. Several black and white photos dating back through the 70s and ranging up to more current times ends with a photograph of a masked man holding the sVo International Title - Night.

The dojo is alive as its master, the famed former wrestler turned legendary trainer, Akira Kimura. A friendly and jovial man he laughs heartily as he works with two of his students in the ring - instructing them in a move familiar to the sVo faithful - the KIMURA fistdrop (a specialty of the dojo). Around the ring, several other trainers work with larger groups. More wrestlers still litter the surrounding areas working the weights or practicing their kicks and strikes.

Seemingly done with the current session, Akira indicates to the students in the ring to rotate out before making his own exit. Moving to a small sitting area between the main training facilities and the locker rooms he comes upon a small group of students, sitting and talking. One man in particular looks particularly pleased with himself as he pats a shiny silver title belt.

"I see congratulations are in order, Kazuki," the old man said, bowing politely. The brash looking young wrestler looked up at his trainer, returning the bow and smiling, patting the metallic face of the belt.

"We were just talking about that, Master, and I was telling the others of my incredible victory the other night to win my FOURTH Light Heavyweight Championship!" came the beaming reply. Kazuki Tomishiba was a talented wrestler, Kimura had noted early on - but his ego had been at least equal to his talent in the early days - not always a trait smiled on or even readily accepted in some Japanese wrestling circles. "And with Elijah's win last week in Yokohama," Kazuki continued, "That means that all remaining graduates of our class are now or have at one point been World Champions."

To the side of the group a man who has, until this point remained quiet and motionless - hidden under the hood of his black sweater, an sVo hoodie - shifts uncomfortably. His reaction draws a devious smile from Kazuki.

"Well, all but one," he added, still grinning and now staring at the man to the side.

"Leave it!" warned the master, noticing the ire of his top student rising.

He had had many students through the years, many world champions of all weight classes. So many with so much potential. But of all of them there had been one standout. This man, Akumu Miyamoto, eldest of the three Miyamoto brothers, and known to the wrestling world as 'Night'.

"It's true, Master," protested Kazuki, "He brings dishonor to our class and our dojo."

"You know as well as we all do, Kazuki, Night is an uncrowned World Champion - he pushed so close and if he would just stop moping about sVo being gone and accept one of the offers at the moment - he could change that." The protest came from a white-haired caucasian, the only member of the class in question not to be of Japanese decent, Elijah Drake; Night's training partner and best friend. He stands, approaching the silent, masked man. Quieter he continues, almost pleading with Night.

"Akumu, we've been friends for so many years now, I've never seen you like this. You never sleep, you never leave the dojo. You're in the best shape of your life and yet you flat out refuse ever contract offer that is thrown your way... you've shown them to me and some have been great deals with respectable companies. Why won't you just sign somewhere? It's killing you not being in the ring, I can tell."

Genuine concern from one friend to another - Kimura was touched, but Drake was right. Night belonged in the ring and now, nearly a year since he had last stepped into a ring competitively, his morale was as low as ever. Still he trained tirelessly throughout the day, often refusing the speak.

"There's only one place for me... and only one title..."

The soft, simple reply. It was the most that any of them had heard from Night in a long time. Moving to his student's side, Akira places a fatherly hand on his shoulder, the others looking at him with concern.

"He's just scared he can't live up to my incredible reputation!"

Kazuki. Kimura shakes his head and rolls his eyes. What a moron.

--------------------------------
"February 22nd, 2010 - Kyoto, Japan"

The Kamo River, running through the heart of Kyoto, Japan is a truly breathtaking sight to behold. The moonlight shimmers brilliantly along the surface of the river. Littering the banks are scattered groups of locals, enjoying the earliest indications of spring.

The old man had not felt so energized in many years. An old warrior, he had spent his later years - now comprising the majority of his life to training generation after generation of younger fighters. In his opinion, only one or two had ever been true 'warriors' however. And one, his finest charge, had come within a heartbeat of climbing to the top of the world twice only to have it snatched away.

Lost in an obsession, he had spent the last two years training, waiting and convalescing. Akira knew however, the young man had never been the same. Since they had returned to the Dojo, Akumu had trained harder and more relentlessly than ever. He had trained with no end in sight, awaiting a return which might never happen.

In spite of his aging body, charged with the good news currently in his possession he ran with a youthful exuberance he could barely ever remember having. Finally reaching his destination he stops. The small apartment complex overlooking the river looked quiet, all the lights extinguished. Akira knew he would be awake though - he always was these days...

Bounding up the stairs he excitedly fumbled with his keychain - his hand jittered as he struggled to get the door open. Finally inside he removed his shoes, placing them in a neat line with several other pairs of shoes and a black pair of wrestling boots which appear to be made of the night's sky.

"Akumu?" Akira called deeper into the darkened apartment.

There was no response. He knew exactly where Akumu would be. Pulling his shoes back on he left the apartment, and ascended the stairs to the rooftop of the building. The roof was dark, lit only by moonlight. At the far end of the roof, crouching in the corner was a silhouette.

"Akumu?" Akira called out, already knowing the silhouette. Of course it was Akumu, Akira knew the young man as if he were his own son. He was his protege, his finest pupil and one of his closest friends.

"Hello Master, it's good to see you," came the response, still and distant.

"I have some good news Akumu," Akira gleamed, "I think this will make you very happy.

As well as Akira knew Akumu, he in turn knew his master. Hearing the excitement in the older man's voice the darkened silhouette turned his head questioningly - his anticipation obvious; as always, his response was simple, understated, "Oh?"

"I got a phone call from the United States a few days ago, Akumu," the old man continued, "I didn't come to you straight away about it because I thought it may have been a hoax... but today this came in the mail."

He swiftly moved to Akumu, handing him a piece of paper. Although his facial features were indistinguishable, Akira could tell that the younger man was staring in disbelief at the sVo letterhead.

"Is this...?"

"An sVo contract." Akira responded triumphantly, nodding excitedly.

Akumu could not believe what he held in his hand. He had waited for this for so long. There had been other offers over the year and a half, be they few and far between - but for Akumu there was only one obsession.

"Akumu," Akira continued, "They are holding the Alex Ross Memorial Tournament... for the vacated sVo World Championship."

This broke the young man's gaze from the contract he held so tightly he felt he might accidentally rip it.

"They want you in it."

With a slight grin, Akira produced a pen from his jacket pocket, handing it to Akumu who quickly snatched it away and without a second thought signed the contract. Standing, he gazed out at the river and beyond it, Gojō, seeming to enjoy it and perhaps knowing that he might not be back for quite some time. But this was something he had to do. Twice he had been on the verge of capturing the World Title, only to be defeated in the end. Before he had accomplished this feat however, sVo had closed its doors and his dreams stripped away.

Anyone who knew Akumu knew that he was a dreamer - his dreams were all he had.

"I've barely slept these last two years, Master," Akumu said softly, "When do we leave?"

"You will, my son; we leave on Wednesday," the old man placed a reassuring hand on his student's shoulder. He knew better than anyone the torment Akumu had been under.

"There is one thing though, Akumu; they want the International Title back and vacated," he explained cautiously.

"They can have it," the young man replied calmly, "There's something else I want..."

As Akumu disappeared into the dark staircase and down to his home, Akira's face filled with the biggest grin he felt he had ever mustered.

"He's back!" he exclaimed to himself, overjoyed, "He's finally back!"

Taking a moment to observe the beauty of the fading frost and the budding of the spring plants, Akira could not help but feel this was the end of Night's longest winter and would be his finest spring.

That night, for the first time in nearly two years, Akumu slept heavily and deeply... and dreamed...

--------------------------------
"March 31st, 2010 - Conference Room B, Goodfellas Casino, Las Vegas"

VOICE: Excuse me, Night?

Hmm?

Snapped out of my thoughts I am once again at the Resurrection press-conference. I stare at the woman in the 2nd row who seems to be addressing me.


NIGHT: I'm sorry?

REPORTER 4: I asked how much winning the sVo World Championship means to you having been away for so long.

NIGHT: How much does the sVo World Title mean to me?

She nods.

This is an easy one.


NIGHT: It means everything.

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