MD 66: Black Dragon and Chris Beckford vs. Mind Over Matter (Non Title)

[Ty Burna]

WZCW Eurasian Champion Black Dragon and his partner at AoN team up against the WZCW Tag Team Champions Mind Over Matter. Will Dragon and Beckford be able to coexist as a unit before their big match against Blade and Scott Hammond at All or Nothing? Or will the Tag Team Champions continue their dominant run?

Deadline is Tuesday, December 6th at 11:59 PM EST.

 

[Gelgarin]

Book of the Dragon​

~ Chapter 14 – Memoires ~​

A man who doesn't trust himself can never truly trust anyone else.

I don’t play nicely with others, never have. A shrink would probably trace it back to childhood – lord knows I’ve got my share of daddy issues. Or perhaps it was being bent over on the streets of Carson, or perhaps it was prison or perhaps it was betrayal… or perhaps I’m just a ******* headcase. Fuck knows.

It’s raining. 3 AM, pissing down with rain, I’m out of nicotine and I can’t write. Next time some scumbag busts into a liquor store in the early hours of the morning I might think of them with a touch more charity – no I won’t, withdrawal just gives me an unwelcome edge. Right now I’m taking the edge off by pacing up and down, sucking in lungfuls of air through an imaginary cigarette, pausing occasionally to cough furiously. It’s funny, I’ve got so used to filling my lungs with poison that I hardly notice it any more, instead it’s the unfamiliar irritation of clean air that sets me spewing bile. Suck, cough, curse, suck, cough, curse… pause occasionally to hammer away at a keyboard, bashing out poorly structured clauses pontificating on my inability to trust other people.

Was it really daddy’s influence? Do I really still have a stupid, boozed up failure looking back at me from the rear view mirror? Though when it comes to scum looking over my shoulder there might not be space for the old man. Hang around with scum long enough and you learn to tell the different kinds of scum apart, and I’ve hung around with scum long enough to write a fucking dictionary. This country is a melting pot, and the thing with a melting pot is that all the scum gradually floats to the top, till all you can see is scum. You keep stirring in the belief that there’s something worthwhile underneath, but as you labour all that happens in that the scum grows thicker and thicker. At that point it’s hard to have faith in anything. Reader: don’t worry if you don’t understand, I don’t have a damn clue what I’m talking about myself.

3:15 AM. Why do I care about trust all of a sudden? I’ve never given a shit until now. I’m Black Dragon, solitary vigilante. I walk the path of darkness and walk it alone. I’ve had partners forced on me before, and a second though didn’t pass before dropping Jack Skinner on his head. Perhaps it’s because this time I actually require a partner in order to accomplish something wroth while. Blade and Hammond are coming down the mountain. Muse had to look upon my battered form after they were finished with me. It was not a pretty sight, and it would have been uglier still but for Beckford later showing up to save my skin. That’s twice now he’s rescued me, by all accounts he deserves my confidence, and yet still I can’t bring myself to trust him.

I didn’t expect Hammond to sell his soul. I didn’t expect Bateman to barter his conscience. I didn’t expect Ria to spit in my face. By all accounts I’m a pretty fucking poor judge of character. Hell, for most of the boy’s existence he never dreamed that he was going to become a dark avatar of vengeance. For much of his existence he would have found the idea of me repugnant, and when a man can’t even trust himself to do what he believes is right then how can he trust others, or expect others to trust him?

I can’t be the easiest person out there to trust. I don’t talk, I hide my face and I have a habit of seriously hurting people without bothering to offer them a proper explanation. A right thinking person would have to be fucking deluded to consider trusting the violent shadow, but fortunately there’s one such deluded person out there. 3:30 AM, can’t smoke, clearly can’t write, that leaves her as the only option. Fingers fumble with the phone; together it and I remember one number. Come morning I’ll feel like crap for doing this, but I feel like crap now, and come morning tobacco will be available again.

“Hello?”

Her voice is edged on all sides with sleep. I jabber at her, it’s hard to rant and type together and I was scarcely paying attention to my own voice, I just needed to hear hers. What I had to say was unimportant, she was asleep and I wasn’t listening, so it shall go unrecorded.

“Hano… do you know what time it is?”

3:47 AM by my clock. Of course I know what time it is, I’ve been counting the minutes since the sun went down. Four hundred and seventy four of them thus far. It makes me want to swear, but I can’t swear at her. Instead, before I know it, I’m telling her about Cardinal de Retz and the various theories on the nature of trust. I always used to do this. Back when we first met, when I was first learning to talk to people again, I used to talk to her about the strangest things. I’d walk her to her car after work, and it wouldn’t be until she’d driven off that I’d realise that I’d just been delivering a lecture on subsistence agriculture or Greek mythology or some similar topic. She always appeared interested. These days we mostly find solace in silence, but occasionally, when things are rough, old habits resurrect themselves.

“Hano,” she’s awake now, “calm down, what’s wrong?”

Nicotine withdrawal is not an answer that I want to give. She knows, these calls are sadly not uncommon, but still…

“I just wanted to talk to you.”

“About trust?”

“Maybe… I don’t really know.” To the casual observer I must sound either idiotic or pathetic. Given an adequate supply of time and tobacco I can compose my thoughts eloquently on paper, but hit me with a direct question and you’ll have to make do with uncertainty.

“Are you worried about Beckford?”

“I think I’m more worried about myself. Beckford has helped me, I can see absolutely no reason not to trust him… and yet I can’t. I just can’t. I can’t depend on another person, that part of me feels like it’s broken and I don’t know how to fix it.”

“I don’t think you need to worry about that Hano.”

“Why not?”

Muse pauses to think for a second, “Two reasons: the first being that you don’t have a choice.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You’re a survivor Hano. You’ve always been a survivor. The world has been against you from day one and you’re still standing. Now you’re taking the whole world on all at once. Hammond and Blade are not going to stand apart so that you can fight them one at a time. Cougar and Burna both have their fair share of backup. You can’t fight the whole world alone, if you’re going to survive then you’re going to have to depend on others for support, and if that’s what you need to do to survive then that’s exactly what you’ll do. You always survive.”

To this day her faith can still floor me. She hates what I do, hates my mission, but her confidence in my ability to do it never seems to falter.

“Have you spoken to Beckford?” she continues.

“No.”

“You know he’s been looking for you?”

“No.” Muse always knows far more about what is happening in the company than I do. I can never bring myself to watch the shows or pay attention to what is happening backstage.

“Trust him or not, that’s ultimately your call, but you should at least hear what he’s got to say for himself.”

“I don’t feel comfortable bringing other people into my battle.” I say.

“He’s in your battle already Hano. They went after him as well. Sooner or later you’ve both got to face them, surely it’s better to do it together.”

“Makes sense… I’ll hear him out after the match…” my lack of confidence is clearly evident in my tone.

“You’re not convinced?” she asks.

“You’re quite right; I do need to work with Beckford. We have a mutual enemy and it makes sense to fight it together. I owe the man and he owes me. By all accounts he seems like a decent human being, I can’t think of a single reason not to trust him… and yet I don’t. It defies logic, it defies reason, I just don’t think I can. I don't think I'm capable of trusting him.”

“You will.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I told you that there were two reasons you needn’t worry about trusting people Hano. Would you like to hear to second one?”

“Tell me.”

“Your natural impulse is not trust Beckford. Your natural impale is not to involve others in your campaign, especially not if it means putting them in harm’s way. Your natural impulse is to work alone and to seldom talk to anybody. Your tendency is not to communicate or to rely on others. And yet, tomorrow you are going to find Beckford and talk with him despite every impulse you possess telling you not to do so. Why?”

I stop and think for a long moment before answering.

“Honestly?” I say.

“Honestly.” She replies.

“Because you told me that I should.”

Her tone changes. We are a hundred miles apart, connected only by a telephone, but I can tell that she is smiling.

“And you think you have a problem trusting people?”

Speechless. How does she do it? How can she break the world down into such simple pieces, and then put it back together so that everything is better? I long ago ran out of superlatives for this girl. If the world had more people like her in it then there would be no need for the Dragon. I could sit and type for a thousand years and never accomplish what she can do with a single sentence. All I can do in response is stammer repeated thanks until she is forced to laugh out loud at my overzealous gratitude.

“Now Hano, I’d like you to do something for me.”

“Name it.” At this point I would walk into fire, cross a desert of broken glass or anything else within my power.

“Get some sleep.”

Mind sedated, cravings abated, morning awaited. I didn’t note the time when I hung up the phone, it didn’t seem important.

 

[Leeds Guy]

Embarrassing, bemusing, disappointing. All words to describe Chris Beckford's recent match with Mr. Baller. It's just another notch on loss column that has plagued Chris' career ever since he lost the EurAsian Championship at Kingdom Come III. In fact, he's not had a W in the column since the night after Kingdom Come, which isn't something he expected when he returned at Apocalypse. He woke up this morning, knowing something had to change, maybe it's his preparation, maybe he's lost the desire he had when he captured the EurAsian Championship. He thought back to that night 1 year ago at All Or Nothing, 6 men putting their bodies on the line to be the new champion, men who had gone on to have success of their own, captured their own championships and he'd beat them all. His name was added to the list of EurAsian Champions, a list many greats had been on, people like Showtime Cougar, Ty Burna, Big Dave were all on that list. Many were expecting something special. Recently Beckford had questioned that maybe the expectation and pressure had gotten to him and affected his performances. Gone were the stellar matches he had had before he won the belt, replaced with lucky victories and distracting losses. A new rival had emerged with his sights on the gold and would do anything necessary to capture it.

Blade came out of nowhere. Not since Beckford's battles with Austin Reynolds had someone been this incensed, this motivated to come after him, to hurt him, to take away what he had rightfully earned. Not only that but distractions out of the ring were about to take a horrible turn with the announcement 1 week before Kingdom Come that Beckford's mother had sadly passed away. Beckford was a mess emotionally, Blade had gotten inside his head and this just hammered everything home. He showed fight and desire to even get in the ring at Kingdom Come III and took the battle to Blade. He gave him everything he had left but it was not enough and Blade walked out the new EurAsian Champion. This is where the downward spiral started. Shortly afterwards he was injured at the hands of Blade, and took leave to heal up and take time to grieve over his mother. His return had been less than spectacular. The company had changed new people where in gunning for the world title, more competition had arrived and Blade had moved on to Scott Hammond. Beckford had wanted revenge as soon as possible but would have to wait before he even got a chance at Blade again. Questions arose over whether or not his injury had fully healed or even if he had got past his mother’s death at all. His in ring performances suggested that he hadn't and defeats to Sam Smith and Mr. Baller in recent weeks only enhanced these questions.

Beckford: Something has to change, I cannot go on like this.

Beckford stood up, he was in a hotel room complete with mini bar and balcony. He approached the bar and made himself a drink of Southern Comfort. Although it was rare to see Beckford drink at all Southern Comfort was his favorite drink that he had drunk since his younger days back in Leeds. He approached the balcony, the sun was shining on a glorious morning, the sunlight glistening of the windows and finding its way to the people below through the trees. The fantastic weather had lightened Beckford's mood if only for a moment. He finished his drink on the balcony and returned inside the hotel room. He looked around, the place was neat and tidy, and most of Beckford's personal stuff was still yet to be unpacked as he'd been in the city less than 24 hours. Ascension was still playing on Beckford's mind as his phone's message tone played. Beckford looked briefly at the txt. It was from Vance Bateman telling Chris to attend an interview with Leon in half an hour regarding All or Nothing's EurAsian Championship match. Beckford smiled briefly. Did he even deserve to be in the match after last week? It was irrelevant, it was going to happen regardless of what Beckford thought.

Negativity rushing through his mind, Beckford now had to concentrate on the future and what it held for him. He'd be teaming with the new EurAsian Champion Black Dragon to take on the WZCW Tag Team Champions Mind over Matter. It wouldn't be easy, Mind over Matter had shown the world what a fantastic team they were by winning the tag titles, meanwhile Beckford and Dragon had just finished beating the hell out of each other in the Fatal Four Way match. Mind over Matter had the desire, Beckford was questioning his. Mind over Matter had the chemistry, Beckford and Dragon had never teamed together. The negativity was now rife in his mind. He swiftly got dressed in casual wear, a simple pair of blue jeans and white T-Shirt would suffice today. He picked up a pair of sunglasses and left the hotel room. He walked to the end of the corridor before pressing the button to call the lift. A few moments passed before the lift appeared on his floor. Beckford got into the lift and pressed the ground floor button as the lift doors closed and began its descent. In the lift Beckford's mind began to drift again. He couldn't believe he got caught out so easily by Mr. Baller on Ascension. He realized he took the match for granted and believed he had it won before he had it won.

The lift door opened to a few screaming fans wanting photo's and autographs for which Beckford was happy to oblige, before exiting the hotel and climbing into the car Bateman had sent. In the car Beckford was met by Stacey Madison who greats Beckford with her usual cold arrogance, without making eye contact.

Madison: Hurry up and sit down, I've got other better things I could be doing today.

Beckford sits down and the car begins its journey.

Beckford: What are you even doing here Stacey? I'm meeting with Leon today---

Madison: And I'm tagging along, I figured if Mr. Bateman is giving the EurAsian Championship match major attention by announcing it live on Ascension, then it's only fair to the viewers out there that the best interviewer in WZCW should do the interviews. I couldn't just let Leon bumble his way through and take credit.

Beckford: Always looking out for number one huh Stace?

Madison: Hey, I'm just doing this for the fans...

Beckford and Stace continue to bicker throughout the short journey. After a while the car comes to a stop outside WZCW studios. The doors open and both Beckford and Stacey get out of the car.

Madison: Why do I always end up here with you?

Beckford: Believe me Stace, I'd rather you weren’t here at all.

Stacey smirks, seemingly impressed at Beckford's witty response. She opens the door and enters the building with Beckford in tow, they find Leon in one of the interview rooms. Leon is also surprised at Stacey’s presence as both Stacey and Beckford take a seat.

Kensworth: Stacey? What the hell are you doing here? I'm scheduled for this interview not you.

Madison: Relax Leon, like I told him, I'm here to make sure all the right questions are asked regarding this very important match at All or Nothing. Now Chris, given that this week on Meltdown you'll face off against...and probably lose to... the WZCW Tag team champions while your opponents at All Or Nothing will face off against... and probably beat... Runn Reynolds Runn, do you think it was the right choice putting you in a match against the champions?

Beckford: Well first of all Stacey I seriously think you're underselling the quality of Runn Reynolds Runn, both men bring something to the team and will defiantly be tag team champions before long. As for your question I seriously believe putting me and Black Dragon up against such a stern test can only do wonders for our confidence and ability to work together. While Mind over Matter are clearly a fantastic team I believe that we can pull out the win and set ourselves up very nicely for the PPV. Is it the right choice? It doesn't matter to me, Blade and Hammond haven't teamed together either so it'll be an experience for all involved in the title match.

Kensworth: Chris people have been----

Madison: What I want to know is how will you and Dragon co-exist? I mean at All or Nothing you could be directly responsible for him losing the EurAsian Championship.

Beckford realizes Stacey cut Leon off, but decides to answer the question anyway.

Beckford: I think we will co-exist fine. This match up against Mind over Matter will be the perfect chance for us to feel each other out and put any problems we have to rest ready for the PPV. When the PPV comes around, I'll do all I can to make our team win.

Kensworth: So if ----

Madison: Someone said to me the other day, you hadn't won a match since you came back. This has got to be playing on your mind hasn't it? You're proving to the world that you really are the loser I knew you were.

Beckford: I think Leon was about to ask a question Stacey.

Madison: So? Are you scared to answer my question?

Beckford: Not at all. My losing streak isn't something that gets me down, I've been through these patches before and I will do again. Last time I had one I responded by winning the EurAsian Championship shortly afterwards

Beckford looks surprised to hear this coming out of his mouth, this was a fact that had never occurred to him before.

Who knows maybe I'm due another big win soon.

Kensworth: Last week you lost to Mr. Baller in what some say is an upset. Your comments?

Beckford: Last week was a little bemusing for me to say the least, I felt I had the match won and was looking to finish before I got caught out by him. Fair play to Baller. I'd been saying for a few weeks that he's so different to what he was when I first arrived here so I wouldn't necessarily call it an upset. I'm a little disappointed in myself that I didn't win the match but I will learn from it and move on.

The questions continued for a while with both Stacey and Leon trying to outdo the other. Beckford left the building and on the car journey back reflected on the questions he was asked. Are the people really questioning him? Could he and Dragon co-exist? He gazed out of the car window, towards the sun’s rays and realized, he didn't have the desire he once had.

 

[Remix]

Alexander Stark winces as Hiraku Susumu applies more pressure to the hammerlock he has applied to his larger partner.

AS: It's not going to be that simple Hiraku-sensei.

He quickly reverses the hold, before transitioning to a headlock and scoring a takedown. Any joy he feels at gaining the upper hand is quickly erased when Susumu's legs wrap around his head.

HS: You say that with such conviction that I almost believed it.

Stark kips up out of the submission hold, not giving Susumu any time to press his advantage applies a half crab.

AS: Your disbelief would not be the first time your wisdom blinded you to the truth, Hiraku-sensei.

Susumu rolls, throwing his self professed disciple off and rises. Stark catches himself in time to turn and see a frown upon his face. Bouncing off the ropes to gain momentum the enlightened one charges in to lock in his signature Iyashi no Itami stretch. Internally Stark chuckles and moves his arm at the last moment, blocking the move. Reacting instantly, Susumu aborts the move and pushes off Stark, attempting to deliver an alternative move. Seeming to predict this too, Stark catches him before he can do so and slams him hard to the mat.

HS: That shall conclude our submission drills for now, Alexander.

The emphasis on "submission" did not go unmissed by the Oxford graduate. He would no doubt he would be punished for breaking the rules laid down at the start of the session over two hours ago.

HS: We must talk.

Stark extends a hand to help up his fallen master, who declines to accept, rolling out of the ring and walks towards a low table with a thermos flask on it. Dropping to his knees, Susumu pours out two cups of green tea as Stark joins him.

AS: Shall we start with our opponents then Hiraku-sensei?

Susumu takes a drink, brows furrowed and watching Stark intensely.

HS: Yes we shall. What are your thoughts on these lambs soon to be slaughtered?

AS: They do not stand a chance against us, but perhaps they will make for good sport before our final bout with Team Noah's Ark. An idiotic dare devil teamed up with a paranoid vigilante who refuses to communicate with anybody in the company is a team that cannot function.

Stark politely sips Susumu's foul green tea.

HS: I believe you have summed up our pathetic opposition well. However, you neglect to mention the individuals that make it up. Of the two, Black Dragon is the weaker opponent. In part because of his filthy smoking habit as we will be able to exhaust him with little effort, but also because he will be unable to trust his partner. How can he be sure that Beckford values this meaningless match more than a shot at the Dragon's gold?

AS: In part, I agree Hiraku-sensei. But, not for those reasons. I have closely watched Black Dragon's matches, and have identified two weaknesses in his arsenal, other than his mask related paranoia. He slightly favours his left arm, and appears to have reduced flexibility in the elbow of that arm. I would guess that it has been injured in the past. As both of his finishing manoeuvres require the use of both arms, attacking that elbow significantly reduces the likelihood that he will be able to put us away. Furthermore, I have noticed that he rarely attempts to wrestle an opponent, preferring to use well placed and delivered strikes and slams. I hypothesise that grappling is a weakness that you especially Hiraku will be able to exploit.

Stark notes the pleased expression in Susumu's face. He's as easy to train as a dog. Teach him something new and scratch him under the chin and he will do as I wish, even if he does not realise it.

AS: Beckford on the other hand, has only one weakness - his own nature. He craves attention and gets it by jumping off things and doing flips. While he is liable to show off more than is sensible, we cannot force him to make an error like we could Runn. We must wait for him to do so and capitalise on any errors he makes. This degree of uncertainty is not ideal. So when he is the legal man, we must focus on doing as much damage to him as we can. Black Dragon will recover less fast than Beckford, even if he can endure the pain we will inflict better.

HS: I can see the logic in what you say Alexander. However, what use is Beckford's agility if he is kept grounded? We can both out wrestle him and from there we can prevent him from gaining any momentum by ensuring he stays on his back.

Stark nods, accepting the point raised by Susumu.

AS: Yes we could. However, due to his tangles with Blade in the past he would be able to defend himself well enough to use his quickness to potentially tag out to Dragon, which while manageable is not a desirable outcome. But enough talk of short term foes. Are you taking care of the arrangements for our match at All or Nothing?

HS: I am currently searching for a suitable candidate for the role. I do not believe that it will be too difficult to find the right man for the job.

Susumu finishes his tea and replaces the cup on the table. Now is the time to progress. I tire of maintaining this facade. "Before we return to training Hiraku, I think we should talk of wisdom and philosophy again." Stark notes the look of annoyance on his partner's face. Apparently dropping the honorific had offended him.

"Surely you cannot persist in believing that being wise should come second to knowledge, Stark." he responds hotly.

Stark chuckles before responding. "If it were possible for wisdom to shape knowledge I wouldn't but it cannot. You yourself have seen your view of the world change as you learn more about it." Stark stops to drink some more of the tea before placing it down and standing and turning away. "I read the book you discarded Hiraku, and I realised that all your so called wise learning did was blinker you. It took you months to realise that loyalty and honour are for followers, not leaders. Men like us were born to live by our own rules, unbound by what the weasels voted into in power by the generally ignorant populace would have us do. Deep down Hiraku, you know that you aren't enlightened. No human can be enlightened, merely liberated from the shackles of society. But you are right about one thing. The only way to change someone is to take them to rock bottom and then drag them through fire to remake them as better men than they were. Meditate on what I have said Hiraku, because you know it to be true." Stark walks towards the exit but turns behind as he reaches the door. "I think that you need to think what I've said over, more than we need to train Hiraku." Stark opens the door, leaving Susumu alone with his thoughts.

 

[Harthan]

~ 日本の旅行 ~​

Hiraku Susumu steps off his private jet into the bright December sun in Osaka. The weather is brisk, but not unpleasant. He puts on sunglasses as he descends the stairs to the tarmac, wearing a white suit with a dark red tie. He approaches a car waiting for him not far away, with a driver ready to open the door. Hiraku meets his eyes briefly, but the driver works away. He knows who he is. The driver opens the door wordlessly and Hiraku sits down in the posh interior. The driver starts the car and begins the journey. His destination has already been arranged.

As they enter the city proper, Hiraku looks out the window at Osaka. Shops everywhere. Stores for fashionable clothing, high end restaurants, theaters. His lips curls. He remembers the decadence of this place well. He also remembers its dark heart. It is the latter he has come for - the former is nothing to him anymore.

Hiraku removes his eyes from the scenery around him and waits the rest of the journey in quiet contemplation. Soon, they arrive. He opens the door himself - he has no desire to wait for the underling to do it for him. He finds himself on a quiet street, a strange thing in Osaka. But the people know what is here, and so does Hiraku.

In the center of the row of buildings on the street is what appears to be a small bar. There is no sign - the place is not meant to attract the public. Hiraku walks to the door, and opens it.

Inside, quiet music plays in the background as many men sit around, huddled in small groups drinking and talking amongst themselves. At his entrance, everyone looks up. The youngest men are confused, not recognizing the stranger. But older men know the face, and remember. Those quickly return to their drinks. One man sitting in the back stands up.

"Hiraku-san," he says in a small, nervous voice, filled with false courtesy. "How...pleasant to see you again."

"Spare me, Rikuto. You received my letter, I trust?"

"Yes...yes." His voice still contains a mixture of desperate politeness and fear.

"And has the Sakaume-gumi fulfilled my request, according to the debt owed to me?"

"Yes. Kanayama-san has remembered your service. He also extends his offer to rejoin the syndicate. Your...talents are not forgotten."

No?, thinks Hiraku. Always a small but prosperous group, we were. In good standing with the law. But even we needed our special agents, to collect on particularly stubborn debts. I am sure Kanayama-san misses my talents.

"Send him my polite refusal, as ever. I have more important things to tend to. The subject of my letter, namely."

Rikuto takes a nervous swallow. "Very well. This was, please."

He gestures toward a door leading to the back of the door. Hiraku gives a last glance around the room. Even the youngest of men here has averted his eyes by now. Rikuto opens the door, and Hiraku follows. They travel down a corridor and up a flight of stairs before arriving at their destination.

"He's in here."

Hiraku nods. Rikuto opens the door, and the men step inside. Waiting for them is one of the tallest, largest men Hiraku has ever seen. He has the body of an American football player, standing well in excess of six and a half feet, nearly 300 pounds, for a certainty. His back is to Hiraku when the men enter; he turns to meet them. Hiraku is pleased with what he sees. Large but lean, rippling with muscle. Their eyes meet, and Hiraku sees the flare of intelligence in them. Perfect.

"Where did you find him?" Hiraku asks.

"Kanayama-san called in a favor from the Yamaguchi-gumi."

Hiraku scoffs, a little, Kanayama-san did want him back badly, if he would spend a favor with the Yamaguchi-gumi for his sake. He had not judged Kanayama to be such a fool, but it seemed times were worse here than Hiraku had thought. But it was not his problem any more.

"Leave us, Rikuto. We have business to discuss."

Rikuto is only too happy to depart rapidly, closing the door behind him. Hiraku and the giant stare at each other for a long moment.

"What is your name?"

"Takahiro." He has a deep, booming voice.

"Have the details of this meeting been explained to you?"

Takahiro nods. "They told me you are in search of a manservant and are willing to pay generously. Tsukasa-san is willing to lend my services to you for the right price."

Hiraku nods approvingly. The brute was not unintelligent.

"Where is the liaison?" Tsukasa-san would have sent someone to negotiate the contract.

"I am he. The kumicho trusts me."

Hiraku raised an eyebrow at that. He wondered if the giant was not too intelligent. But there was no going back now. He would lose all his connections if he backed out of this deal.

"Very well. I offer 500,000 American dollars a year for your services. I also hope that Tsukasa-san will accept 100,000 American dollars as my gift of thanks to him for this meeting." Political doublespeak, but necessary in these circles.

Takahiro appears to mull it over.

"I am of great value to the kumicho. I do not think this value will be sufficient for him to part with my services."

Hiraku flashes a mild look of annoyance. His time is too valuable for this.

"Double it."

Takahiro nods, showing little emotion. "This will be acceptable to the kumicho. We will draft the documents later. What are your terms?"

"You enter my service, to do as a I bid you, though I pledge never to ask you to break the law of the land we reside in, at the penalty of forfeiture of the contract. In return, I pay Tsukasa-san the agreed upon sum. The deal will last for three years, at which time we will renegotiate."

"I find these terms acceptable."

"Then welcome to my service, Takahiro."

The giant gives a modest bow. "I thank you, and the kumicho thanks you, master."

"Excellent. We must be away at once. There is business to attend to in America."

"As you say, master."

Hiraku exits with Takahiro, a massive, hulking shadow, trailing behind. He enters the car, which just manages to fit the enormous size of Takahiro within it, though not comfortably. Hiraku's mind is already adrift on the coming business as the car begins its way to the airport.

One.

-----

~ 永遠は浮かぶ ~​

Hiraku sits alone in his study, cross-legged on the floor, meditating.

"Deep down Hiraku, you know that you aren't enlightened. No human can be enlightened, merely liberated from the shackles of society. But you are right about one thing. The only way to change someone is to take them to rock bottom and then drag them through fire to remake them as better men than they were. Meditate on what I have said Hiraku, because you know it to be true." Stark walks towards the exit but turns behind as he reaches the door. "I think that you need to think what I've said over, more than we need to train Hiraku." Stark opens the door, leaving Susumu alone with his thoughts.

"Deep down," he mutters, "the dog says I am not enlightened."

His fist clenches in rage.

"The dog says he has taught me."

He stands rapidly, both fists tightly balled now.

"He presumes to know anything about enlightenment?!" He shouts to the empty room.

"Stark is nothing," he spits. "I have taught him, I have trained him, I have taken him down the path I was once taken down, and he presumes to know more than I about the way of things? I should destroy him for this insult."

He begins to pace about the room, gesticulating during his speech.

"He does not understand. How could he understand? He labors in the delusion that the mind, the body, and the soul are one object, one united being, when they are separate, as I know! As I was made to know. As he will know, when he is shown the way. The soul is enlightened, and the self is enlightened. The body is weak, a mere tool, the mind is a corrupter of the soul's will, and so I err. Were my soul free of these burdens, I would know perfection."

"I could be free of these things anytime I wished. I could depart the mortal coil, leave humanity behind, and achieve perfect enlightenment in unity with my soul. But I am kind. I am generous. I remain here, tainted, so that I might show others the path. And how am I rewarded? With insolence, foolishness, and idiocy."

Liar.

Hiraku stops dead in his tracks. He begins to ask from where the voice came from, but he knows. It was his own, inside his head, but come unbidden.

"I am none," he says, to the emptiness.

Liar. False prophet.

"I am neither!" He shouts hoarsely. A glint of metal in his periphery. What?

Liar. False prophet. Charlatan.

His head is cloudy, foggy. Weakly, he manages, "None of these," before he trails off.

As though from a distance, he hears himself mutter, "Liar. False prophet. Charlatan." The knife, the same knife, still red, or so it seems, clean steel now, bloody again-

"LIAR!" Another man screams, as another man cuts, as another man bleeds.

"FALSE PROPHET!" Another man screams, as another man cuts, as another man bleeds.

"CHARLATAN!" Another man screams, as another man cuts, as another man bleeds.

Seconds, minutes, hours, days, years. Eternity floats by.

Hiraku opens his eyes, lying on the ground, his head as clear as a pool of still water. He turns his head to the side, knowing what to expect. The same gashes down his arm as were there last time. He feels no horror now, though. How could he? A rush of perspective. Everything made sense now. He saw the answers to his questions lie before him. He turns his head back to the ceiling. A distant part of him screams that he should be terrified, but he can feel nothing but content.

Two.

----

~ 大討論 ~​

Hiraku enters the gym from a back room, Takahiro following. He flips the lights on. He is dressed in his training gear, with a long sleeved athletic shirt covering his bandages, though he knows it's obvious what lies beneath.

The door opens and Alexander Stark enters, Sascha trailing behind.

"Good afternoon, Hiraku-sama..." He trails off as he catches sight of Takahiro, his mouth slightly agape. Sascha is less reserved, as her jaw drops fully.

"Good after Stark, Sascha. I would like you to meet Takahiro. He is now in my service. I expect that he will be most valuable to us in the near future."

Takahiro bows to them, silent. Stark still looks at him, slightly in awe.

"Where did you find him?"

"It is none of your concern."

"It is very much my concern when a man I'm supposed to trust goes off and hires a giant without so much as a warning."

"I do not need any man's permission for my actions, least of all one who would call himself my student."

Stark grimaces, but lets it drop.

As if I do not know your game. My student? You have not deferred to me yet, Stark. You would never have questioned me if you had. You have a motive, I know it - but it is no matter. Whatever you think of yourself, I can teach you the way of things.

"Very well. Are we ready to begin, then?"

"'The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.'"

"What?"

"'The spirit is willing...but the flesh is weak.'"

"What are you talking about?"

"You said I was not enlightened. Do you stand by this assertion?"

"Of course I do. You've changed your mind about how many things, now? Thrown out your entire book. Admitted you're flawed. Lost a match."

Hiraku's anger flares inside, but he calms his outward appearance.

"'The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.' What does it mean?"

Stark raises an eyebrow.

"From the Bible. A man might have the will to do a thing, but the human body has its limitations."

"Precisely. So it is. What you must learn is this. The mind, the body, and the soul are three separate entities."

Stark scoffs.

"Nonsense. Take a biology course sometime."

Hiraku levels a cold stare at Stark. You would play at student, yet mock your master? Fine then. Suffer the consequences.

"Into the ring."

Stark looks about to argue, but reluctantly obliges.

"Takahiro, join him."

The giant does as he is bid, while Stark looks incredulous.

"You cannot be serious, Hiraku."

"You have a lesson to learn, Stark. You think your science is the answer? You are a fool. I have reached the breaking point. The beautiful, mystical moment when pain is so great that you distill the soul from the body and the mind and glimpse the truth of the universe. That is the nature of my path. That is the nature of my enlightenment. That is what you must learn."

Stark only eyes him, but his glance flicks back and forth to Takahiro.

"For today, you will spar with Takahiro. I have decided you are more deficient as a student than I had thought. When you are strong enough to defeat him, you may move on again."

Stark swallows, his face resolute, but fear shows in his eyes.

You play a game with me? Play on, play on Stark. But be prepared to suffer the consequences.

"Sascha, be so kind as to referee this contest." It was not a question. She entered the ring reluctantly.

"Begin."

Takahiro immediately lunges for Stark, who darts out of the way. Takahiro turns and faces Stark, who is keeping light on his feat, moving to the side. Takahiro lunges again and Stark once again dodges. Takahiro looks frustrated, but turns and pursues Stark more slowly this time. He manages to back him into a corner, but Stark slips out and gets a waistlock. Takahiro grins, breaks the lock easily, and takes hold of Stark's arms. Stark tries to kick his way free, but Takahiro holds on. Takahiro grins again, taking his time. He rears back and lands a devastating punch to Stark's head. Stark collapses and Takahiro covers him with a boot. Sascha makes the count, her hand slapping the mat once, twice...but Stark kicks out.

Hiraku's face flashes annoyance. Doesn't know what's good for him.

"Takahiro, again."

Takahiro lifts Stark back up, grasps his throat, and chokeslams him to the mat. This time, Takahiro's arrogant cover works, and Sascha counts three.

"You must get stronger, Stark. I will never be able to teach you anything if you aren't strong enough. A weak man could never endure the pain necessary to learn what I must teach you."

Takahiro steps out of the ring as Sascha helps her master. Hiraku surveys the situation, and finds himself smiling. Takahiro, bound by contract and loyal to him. Stark, beaten into submission. Even Sascha, eying him with fear and respect.

Everything was coming together.

Three.