Viola Moonlight
I'm Literally Just Here for WZCW
Deadline is Tuesday May 5, 2015 at 11:59 PM (Central Time). Extensions are available upon request.
MD 117: Kagura Ohzora vs. Bruce Irwin
- Thread starter Viola Moonlight
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Deadline is Tuesday May 5, 2015 at 11:59 PM (Central Time). Extensions are available upon request.
Bernkastel
Reaper of Miracles
That match was a blur. I can recall the first half of it vividly, but the last half was a blur. The final moments as the counted down the seconds to the inevitable; I was no longer champion. I suppose I wasnt that upset. I climbed the mountain to obtain that title in the first place so I had nothing left to prove. There were those that would have disagreed with that sentiment, as Im sure Gozaburo-san was one of them, but in truth I no longer had the desire to be champion.
ElegANT-san hit me harder than hed realized. I was skilled. I knew it. Perhaps towards the end my self-preservation instincts took over. He got that last burst of energy he needed to change the tide of the battle in his favor and the match was his. He was the better wrestler that night. My heart wasnt in it. Before the match an old legend made her return. With such regality she would have shunned anyone else, but perhaps she held a soft spot for me.
Celeste Crimson was unreadable. But she read me without me having to say anything. And she was most unimpressed. And she wasnt the first person to question why it was strange for me to be acting a part that I had no real business trying to play. I wasnt a top judoka. I was merely a miko from the land of Japan. And the appearance was everything.
I tried to explain this backstage to Gozaburo-san while I was having my head examined and my wound dressed. In truth I suppose I was acting more like him than I was like myself. And then I had to stop and ask what my identity was in the first place. Maybe I had simply left be behind and it had gotten lost once I became champion. I knew that in order to climb any higher and get out of the rut I had suddenly found myself in I needed to return to what I knew. And so I did.
Over the next few days I began making public appearances dressed in my formal ceremonial clothes. My English was improving, but I chose to let Gozaburo-san do most of my talking for me. I got to share my culture with the audience, and that made me happy. However something would soon happen that would change my life forever
Another international tour? My heart skipped a beat. I was getting used to living in America. The customs had been very different from Japan and they took some getting used to. The food was different, the music entertainment was different, the way people greeted each other was different. I still took my shoes off when I entered a home.
But otherwise it was symbolic. I came into the company while they were touring and I literally was thrown headfirst into the fray. But I adapted. So I knew I could do it again. I loved seeing new places. My next opponent was Bruce Irwin-san. I had already fought this man before and I knew him well. I suppose he was looking for a bit of momentum heading into the next PPV. And a win would have helped me bounce back from the title loss.
I dont think anyone really doubted me. And I still had some confidence. No; what bothered me was something else. It was an encounter that I would have later that afternoon
Gozaburo-san and I were at the St. Louis airport getting ready to travel to Cuba for the show. I had my passport, but he was having a little bit of trouble obtaining his. While he verbally wrestled with the folks at the international offices I had ventured off to sight see. The St. Louis airport wasnt as large as the one in Tokyo, but there were still a few nice stores and restaurants.
I stopped into a souvenir shop and was looking at the books. Perhaps I could get one for the plane. I was reading English books, but I still struggled with pronunciation. I saw a travel book that caught my eye. It looked informative, but at the same time had plenty of pictures and larger print. As I reached forward to grab it I accidently bumped into a stranger next to me. I turned around to apologize.
I was a young man who didnt appear to be much older than I was. He was tall, athletic, and handsome. He sensed right away that I didnt speak English, and to my surprise apologized in Japanese. As it turned out he was fluent; or as fluent as a non Japanese native could have been. He had a leather bag slung over his shoulder and as we departed I noticed a book falling out of the side as he exited. I placed my book down and ran after him, but he had already disappeared into the sea of people.
Well thats weird. He dropped his book.
I paid for the book that I wanted and left to find my mentor. Gozaburo-san had straightened out the issue with his passport and we were set to leave the country. Out of curiosity I opened the book and had a bit of a shock.
It was a Japanese Shinto ritual book. Used by priests to summon the spirits of the Kami directly. I had seen books like this one in my grandfathers library. It was quite old, but was encased in leather and bound by gold trim. It was certainly a rare find and was no doubt quite valuable. My mind immediately flashed back to that young man. Hed no doubt be looking for this and would want it back, but I had no idea how I was going to return it. We were leaving the country.
I promised that I would keep it safe until I found a way to get it back to him somehow. I found some papers stuffed into the sides and had copious amounts of notes written on them in both English and Japanese. At the top of the page I saw a name
Miyamoto Ayamo. And a profession: curator. And a number.
And so my mission to return this book to that handsome stranger started. But what I hadnt known is that nothing would ever be quite the same again
ElegANT-san hit me harder than hed realized. I was skilled. I knew it. Perhaps towards the end my self-preservation instincts took over. He got that last burst of energy he needed to change the tide of the battle in his favor and the match was his. He was the better wrestler that night. My heart wasnt in it. Before the match an old legend made her return. With such regality she would have shunned anyone else, but perhaps she held a soft spot for me.
Celeste Crimson was unreadable. But she read me without me having to say anything. And she was most unimpressed. And she wasnt the first person to question why it was strange for me to be acting a part that I had no real business trying to play. I wasnt a top judoka. I was merely a miko from the land of Japan. And the appearance was everything.
I tried to explain this backstage to Gozaburo-san while I was having my head examined and my wound dressed. In truth I suppose I was acting more like him than I was like myself. And then I had to stop and ask what my identity was in the first place. Maybe I had simply left be behind and it had gotten lost once I became champion. I knew that in order to climb any higher and get out of the rut I had suddenly found myself in I needed to return to what I knew. And so I did.
Over the next few days I began making public appearances dressed in my formal ceremonial clothes. My English was improving, but I chose to let Gozaburo-san do most of my talking for me. I got to share my culture with the audience, and that made me happy. However something would soon happen that would change my life forever
---
Another international tour? My heart skipped a beat. I was getting used to living in America. The customs had been very different from Japan and they took some getting used to. The food was different, the music entertainment was different, the way people greeted each other was different. I still took my shoes off when I entered a home.
But otherwise it was symbolic. I came into the company while they were touring and I literally was thrown headfirst into the fray. But I adapted. So I knew I could do it again. I loved seeing new places. My next opponent was Bruce Irwin-san. I had already fought this man before and I knew him well. I suppose he was looking for a bit of momentum heading into the next PPV. And a win would have helped me bounce back from the title loss.
I dont think anyone really doubted me. And I still had some confidence. No; what bothered me was something else. It was an encounter that I would have later that afternoon
---
Gozaburo-san and I were at the St. Louis airport getting ready to travel to Cuba for the show. I had my passport, but he was having a little bit of trouble obtaining his. While he verbally wrestled with the folks at the international offices I had ventured off to sight see. The St. Louis airport wasnt as large as the one in Tokyo, but there were still a few nice stores and restaurants.
I stopped into a souvenir shop and was looking at the books. Perhaps I could get one for the plane. I was reading English books, but I still struggled with pronunciation. I saw a travel book that caught my eye. It looked informative, but at the same time had plenty of pictures and larger print. As I reached forward to grab it I accidently bumped into a stranger next to me. I turned around to apologize.
I was a young man who didnt appear to be much older than I was. He was tall, athletic, and handsome. He sensed right away that I didnt speak English, and to my surprise apologized in Japanese. As it turned out he was fluent; or as fluent as a non Japanese native could have been. He had a leather bag slung over his shoulder and as we departed I noticed a book falling out of the side as he exited. I placed my book down and ran after him, but he had already disappeared into the sea of people.
Well thats weird. He dropped his book.
I paid for the book that I wanted and left to find my mentor. Gozaburo-san had straightened out the issue with his passport and we were set to leave the country. Out of curiosity I opened the book and had a bit of a shock.
It was a Japanese Shinto ritual book. Used by priests to summon the spirits of the Kami directly. I had seen books like this one in my grandfathers library. It was quite old, but was encased in leather and bound by gold trim. It was certainly a rare find and was no doubt quite valuable. My mind immediately flashed back to that young man. Hed no doubt be looking for this and would want it back, but I had no idea how I was going to return it. We were leaving the country.
I promised that I would keep it safe until I found a way to get it back to him somehow. I found some papers stuffed into the sides and had copious amounts of notes written on them in both English and Japanese. At the top of the page I saw a name
Miyamoto Ayamo. And a profession: curator. And a number.
And so my mission to return this book to that handsome stranger started. But what I hadnt known is that nothing would ever be quite the same again
Lee
Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No it's Supermod!
Darkness. You can hear something banging.
Bruce: Streuth!
More banging.
Bruce: Crikey!
More banging.
Bruce: I can't do it Captain!
The camera cuts to Captain Harrison Love stood outside a closed door. You can see Love and hear Irwin from off screen.
Love: You need your eyes on the prize.
THWACK.
Bruce: Dammit!
Love: Again.
Crash.
Bruce: How can I hit the target when I can't see the prize?
Love: Are you stupid? You recently just won a match for a mystery prize. Do you know what it was?
Bruce lets out a grunting noise.
Bruce: I dunno.
Love: Exactly! Yet you won, heck you won when they changed it to a triple threat. You spent all week practising throwing potato sacks over the top rope. In the end you didn't need it as the rules changed. Yet you were focused, a mystery prize.
Kapow.
Bruce: Dammit!
Love: Get focused!
Bruce sighs.
Bruce: Really?
Love: Repeat after me.
Bruce: I can do it myself.
Love: Go on then.
Bruce: I SEE PRIDE
I SEE POWER
I SEE A BAD ASS MOTHER WHO GONNA TAKE NO CRAP OFF NOBODY
Love: AGAIN!
Bruce: I SEE PRIDE
I SEE POWER
I SEE A BAD ASS MOTHER WHO GONNA TAKE NO CRAP OFF NOBODY
SMASH. You can hear that the target has been hit.
Bruce: Finally.
Love opens the door as like peaks in to the room. He switches the light on to reveal Bruce Irwin with a kendo stick. On the floor is the remains of a piñata shaped like Kagura Ohzora lay on the floor. There's lots of candies dotted around.
Love: Happy Cinco de Mayo!
The camera focuses on a frustrated looking Irwin as we fade to black.
Bruce: Streuth!
More banging.
Bruce: Crikey!
More banging.
Bruce: I can't do it Captain!
The camera cuts to Captain Harrison Love stood outside a closed door. You can see Love and hear Irwin from off screen.
Love: You need your eyes on the prize.
THWACK.
Bruce: Dammit!
Love: Again.
Crash.
Bruce: How can I hit the target when I can't see the prize?
Love: Are you stupid? You recently just won a match for a mystery prize. Do you know what it was?
Bruce lets out a grunting noise.
Bruce: I dunno.
Love: Exactly! Yet you won, heck you won when they changed it to a triple threat. You spent all week practising throwing potato sacks over the top rope. In the end you didn't need it as the rules changed. Yet you were focused, a mystery prize.
Kapow.
Bruce: Dammit!
Love: Get focused!
Bruce sighs.
Bruce: Really?
Love: Repeat after me.
Bruce: I can do it myself.
Love: Go on then.
Bruce: I SEE PRIDE
I SEE POWER
I SEE A BAD ASS MOTHER WHO GONNA TAKE NO CRAP OFF NOBODY
Love: AGAIN!
Bruce: I SEE PRIDE
I SEE POWER
I SEE A BAD ASS MOTHER WHO GONNA TAKE NO CRAP OFF NOBODY
SMASH. You can hear that the target has been hit.
Bruce: Finally.
Love opens the door as like peaks in to the room. He switches the light on to reveal Bruce Irwin with a kendo stick. On the floor is the remains of a piñata shaped like Kagura Ohzora lay on the floor. There's lots of candies dotted around.
Love: Happy Cinco de Mayo!
The camera focuses on a frustrated looking Irwin as we fade to black.
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