[Wild fang project] Garouden I pure fighting action novel

by Unknown

  Kawabe titled his head slightly to the side as the glared over at Bunshichi.

  [139]

  “That's not possible.”

  “Not possible?”

  “Kajiwara isn't the same as he used to be.”

  “I'm not the same as I used to be.”

  “I get that.”

  “Then why?”

  “Kajiwara is now a pro-wrestler with a pay check.”

  “...”

  “There is no way he can face off against an amateur.”

  “...”

  “It doesn't really matter how strong you are now, you're still at amateur level. You have no pulling power, no one knows you. There would be nothing in it for Kajiwara, even if he won. Not for him, or for me. If he lost, on the other hand, it could put a lot of people out of work.”

  “I'm not saying I want to fight him in the ring.”

  “It doesn't make a difference. The media will sniff out the rumor. Even if Kajiwara wins but sustains an injury would be bad for us and our company. And of course for Kajiwara.”

  “...”

  “I think you understand what I'm trying to tell you...” said Kawabe in a comforting manner, not trying to be antagonistic. Bunshichi looked down for the first time.

  There was a long silence. After a while, Bunshichi slowly started to speak. His voice sounded like it was about to spew forth from his guts like goo.

  “Look, Kawabe,” he said, raising his head, “Six years. I have waited six years, to have a rematch with Kajiwara.”

  “...”

  “Three years ago I finally built up the courage to take Kajiwara on again. But he wasn't even in Japan.”

  [140]

  “......”

  “I saw him on TV. I was in Nara. He had already come back to Japan.”

  Kawabe didn't answer.

  “He was caught up in his business, and I in mine. The world isn't always a logical place.”

  Kawabe crossed his arms and remained silent. He looked at Bunshichi with sympathetic eyes. Bunshichi looked back at him.

  “I pissed blood,” mumbled Bunshichi, “I have been thinking about that fight with Kajiwara all this time.” Bunshichi didn't go into just how far he had gone in his training. He didn't have to, Kawabe could tell how much he had trained just by looking at him. Kawabe had told Bunshichi that he needed to bulk up a little the first time they met.

  At that time Bunshichi thought that he had the ideal body. It had gone past what would be called an ideal body and was now in a league of it's own. His body was heavy, like a blunt weapon. But it was a blunt weapon with a lot of power. Kawabe now saw the man sitting in front of him in a new light. He looked even more impressive now than when he walked through he door. A strange kind of pressure came from Bunshichi's body as he sat on the sofa. He was a rough weapon of a man. He seemed even more powerful than the foreign wrestler who had just stormed out of the office.

  [141]

  There was just no way Kawabe could let this man fight Kajiwara. “I can't let that happen,” said Kawabe.

  “You wouldn’t tell me where Kajiwara is even if I asked, right?”

  “That's right,” Kawabe said with a nod.

  “I guess I will have to do it myself,” said Bunshichi as he rose to his feet. Ryoji shot to his feet as well.

  “I could fight you in place of Kajiwara, how does that sound?” said Kawabe as he too stood up. Bunshichi, who was about to turn his back on Kawabe, stopped in his tracks.

  “What was it you said to me six years ago? That I have to do it with you?” Kawabe nodded slowly.

  “Let me tell you what you told me.”

  “...”

  “You won't beat me.”

  “You won't know if you don't try,” said Kawabe in a stern voice.

  “That's what I told you back then,” muttered Bunshichi.

  “Yes, it was,” said Kawabe, the subtle wrinkles of a smile forming on his face.

  “But you do know, don't you?”

  “...”

  “I would win,” said Bunshichi. They stared at each other for a few seconds. Bunshichi turned his back on Kawabe.

  “I know,” said Kawabe, his words hitting Bunshichi's back.

  [142]

  Bunshichi looked over his shoulder. “You can't protect Kajiwara. Every day of the year”

  “I can't allow you fight Kajiwara, but I guess I can't stop you from fighting him either. It can't be helped.”

  “...”

  “All I ask is that when you do face him, fight him properly, no weapons.”

  “Alright.”

  “However, and it's got nothing to do with me, but you’ll never beat Kajiwara the way he is now.”

  “All I can do is try.”

  “You know, Kajiwara himself might decline.”

  “There is no man who will sit back and silently take a beating.”

  “He's not the same man he once was.”

  “Neither am I.”

  “He can break bones now.” Kawabe spoke loud and clear so that Bunshichi would hear him.

  Kawabe held his hand out to Bunshichi. Bunshichi looked at Kawabe. Kawabe held his hand out in silence. Bunshichi slowly held his hand out while looking at Kawabe. Their hands were on top of one another. In that moment, an unspoken attack had begun. What kind of attack wasn't clear to Ryoji.

  The both grabbed the others right elbow with their left hand while their right hands were still grasping each other, and looked like each was trying to flip the other over. The table broke. In that moment Kawabe had Bunshichi on his back. That's when he heard a cracking sound.

  [143]

  The unnerving sound echoed through the room. It was Kawabe who let out a cry. Bunshichi released his grip on Kawabe's hand. Kawabe's index finger was bent to the side from it's center joint.

  “Mr. Kawabe...” the door opened and several men poured into the room. They were office workers, not pro wrestlers, called “the suits” in the wrestling world.

  “Do you get it now?” he laughed. It was a bitter laugh. “I can break bones as well.” Kawabe wiped the sweat from his brow and grabbed at his right hand with his left hand. Bunshichi faced the door. The suits parted ways like the red sea.

  “Don't do it!” Kawabe called out to Bunshichi as he made his way to the door. “You'll regret it! You'll make yourself an enemy of the East-West Pro Wrestling federation.”

  Bunshichi silently made his way through the door.

  CHAPTER IV

  Grey darkness spread out from the window. It was a huge window. The polished glass reached from the ceiling to the floor. It was a bar up near the penthouse in a group of high rises in Shinjuku. The darkness outside spread over the land for 200 meters.

  [144]

  Not even a smidgen of the coldness made it through the glass. Finely tuned air conditioned warmth filled the room. Once the air had struggled it's way through the air conditioner, it lost its dampness and gained an inorganic smell. It had lost all of the smells that air should have, like rain, plants, exhaust gas and dirt. It was the kind of air that dried out your skin.

  The lights of the city below shone in the dark. They looked like glow worms on the bottom of an ocean of darkness. They were so far away that you couldn't really see them individually, rather the shone with beautiful multi-colored light. That's what it looked like at a distance, through the thick, hardened glass. The warmth from inside gently fell to the ground once it it made it through the window. Looking out at the world made you feel as if you were looking down on some different planet from above. The lights of the city looked like stars floating in space.

  The room was filled with subtle music and the smell of tobacco. The music was an old jazz number. It was a strange, dimly lit bar, with the music and the low noise not quite matching it. There was a man and a woman sharing a quiet conversation. The sound of someone touching the glass. Noises like that melted into the room.

  There were a few foreigners there. A man sat down at the end of th
e polished bar. He had his chest puffed outwards and was thick with muscle. He wore a blue shirt under an open navy blue blazer. The sleeves of his shirt were sticking out from under the sleeves of his blazer. He was wearing them in a casual manner, but they looked pretty expensive.

  [145]

  He somehow looked out of place in and among all the men in suits and dressed up ladies. His body was a bit big, but what really made him stand out was his hair. He was blond. He was strikingly blond, and his facial hair was black. He was Japanese. He had died his hair. The window was to the left of him. He raised a glass of bourbon to his lips as he gazed out of the window. He was in his early forties, forty five at the most. He had a scars running all over his chin like a ditch. Some of the scars still looked pink and fresh. The fingers gripping the glass of bourbon on the counter were incredibly thick. He was the only one sitting at the counter.

  A man walked into the room alone. He was as big as any other man in that room. He wore a worn lather jumper over a pair of washed-out jeans. It was Bunshichi Tanba. He walked over to the bar and looked around. His eyes soon stopped on the man sitting at the edge of the bar. He slowly made his way over. He moved his body carefully, so as not to give himself away. Bunshichi sat down next to the man. The man looked up to see who it was that had ignored the other seats and purposely decided to sit next to him. He took a look and saw Bunshichi's body, but quickly lost interest and looked back out the window.

  [146]

  The pair of them looked like a small mountain of flesh from behind. Weapons made from flesh and wrapped in fabric.

  “I'll have what he's having,” Bunshichi said as he looked down at the glass the man next to him and then glanced up at the lone waiter behind the bar. The bartender instantly knew what he wanted. Bunshichi again spoke to the bartender as he began to pour his drink.

  “Some beef jerky, too.”

  A glass full of bourbon appeared in front of him. The beef jerky he had ordered with it appeared next to it a moment later. Bunshichi grabbed the glass and poured about a third of it down into his stomach. It was straight bourbon. No water added.

  The warmth of the Bourbon spread from his mouth down to the pit of his throat. Bunshichi slowly returned his glass to the counter. It was a small, thick glass. It had a design that looked as though it had been cut up with a knife.

  “What do you want?” asked the man. He still had his back turned and was still looking out of the window into darkness. He spoke almost as if he was speaking to himself.

  “You're Mr. Date, right?” Bunshichi didn't speak those words to the man, but rather into his glass of Bourbon. The other man looked up from the window. The man's blond hair was right in front of his nose. He didn't say anything. There was a strange kind of power that followed him as he turned around and looked at Bunshichi.

  [147]

  The sense of his muscles pushed through his clothes and hung in the air.

  “I'm Tanba Bunshichi.”

  “And what do you want?” said the man looking back out the window.

  “There is something I want to ask Date Ushio, the mighty Ox.”

  “...” the man, Date, didn't answer. He simply brought his glass of bourbon up to his lips as he looked out the window.

  “I heard that you would be staying in this hotel from the editor of a pro wrestling magazine.”

  “We stay here every time we're in a show in Tokyo,” said Date, “us foreigners,” he added in a low voice.

  “Foreigners?”

  “They consider me a foreigner. Under the contract I have with East-West pro-wrestling.” Date put his glass back down on the counter. He slowly turned and looked at Bunshichi. Their eyes met. Bunshichi looked at his eyes, a deep dark light seemed to shine from within them.

  “Do you know why I'm in this bar?”

  “I heard that you don't like going out much. I've been in and out of all the bars in this hotel looking for you.”

  “Huh,” he muttered and half turned back towards Bunshichi. The chair swiveled underneath Date as he turned his body and it made a metallic grinding sound.

  “Well, what do you want?”

  “I want you to tell me something,” said Bunshichi, not taking his eyes off Date. His line of sight came down on Bunshichi like an axe.

  [148]

  He was an intense man. A normal person could only look him in the eye for no more than a few seconds at a time.

  “Tell you what?” said Date, growing a little impatient.

  “Tell me how to break in.”

  “Break in?” said Date, there was now a little power behind his voice.

  “Break in,” Bunshichi said again. That was followed by a brief silence.

  “Are you crazy?”

  “I may be crazy, but I'm serious.”

  “Seriously?” if they weren't in a bar he would have screwed up his face as if about to spit something out.

  “Who are you? You don't look like an amateur,” said Date, his voice had grown a little thick. The voice was rough, like it had over flowed from his throat. He slowly looked Bunshichi up and down.

  “I'm a wanderer.”

  “I could tell that just by looking at you when you walked in the door. But that's not what I'm asking you,” his voice was strangely calm, “I want to know why.”

  “There is a man who I really want to fight.”

  “Who?”

  “Kajiwara,” said Bunshichi. A different kind of light shone in Date's eyes.

  “You're the one who broke Kawabe's finger.”

  “So you have heard of me.”

  “Oh, I heard. I heard there was some fool who wants to take on Kajiwara.”

  [149]

  “Well then I don't need to explain myself.”

  “No, I think you do. Why did you come and see me?”

  “...”

  “I might be getting paid by the East-West Pro-wrestling federation, but my name isn't on their register. Even though I'm not, I still don't like people who try to mess with them.”

  “I'm not trying to mess with them. I even told Kawabe that.”

  “Well then are you trying to mess with me?”

  “...”

  “The federation would probably give me a bonus if I did you in right here and tossed you trough that window.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “I thought you had a grudge against the federation, against The Great Tatsumi,” said Bunshichi.

  “A grudge?”

  “Weren't you the reason that he jumped ship to the Central Pro-Wrestling circuit?” Bunshichi put an odd emphasis on the word 'you'. As soon as he had finished speaking, Date tensed his entire body. He was intimidating.

  “Seems like Tatsumi's coup is pretty famous in this business. You weren't there when Tatsumi's made plans after making his coup. But it seems that you tipped them off before it even happened, and that's why it all blew up. He was chased by the Central Wrestling Federation and formed the East West Wrestling Federation.”

  “...”

  “By the way, what broke down at the Central Wrestling Federation was its main event, you. So you decided to go overseas to avoid having to start from the bottom in the East West Wrestling Federation. It seems that Tatsumi is calling you out as a traitor.”

  [150]

  “I don't know where you heard all that, but you shouldn't go running your mouth.”

  “And now you're receiving money from the Great Tatsumi.”

  “Don't push it.” Date's muscles tensed under his blazer.

  “I read about it in a book about pro wrestling.” said Bunshichi, his tone suddenly turning a little more polite.

  “What the hell would know?”

  “Nothing...”

  “...”

  “You shouldn't believe everything you read. There is no way we have been living in a world as fantastic as all of that. The story always changes depending on the opinion and position of who's telling the story. Everybody thinks they know it all.


  “...”

  “It's just that the papers take more notice of what Tatsumi is saying than you.”

  “I certainly do hate that guy, but there is a world out there that only wrestlers really understand.” There came a cracking sound from between Date's fingers as he finished speaking. A crack had formed in his thick whiskey glass.

  “Shit.” Date looked at his right hand. A shard of glass had wedged itself in around the base of his thumb. Blood dripped from the point where it was pulled out.

  [151]

  Date licked it up with his tongue.

  “Are you alright?” asked the bartender when he noticed the blood.

  “I'm fine,” said Date. The bartender brought over a first aid kit/box, but Date told him he didn't need it as he wrapped a handkerchief around it. People around him had noticed too.

  'That is Date the Ox', 'He's a pro-wrestler', 'He's the one who fights those fixed matches' came the low voices from behind him.

  “I guess those wrestlers really do get a surprise when they bleed for real,” came a voice from right behind the pair. It was the same voice that had mentioned fixed matches. Date stood up.

  “Who said that?” he said, surprisingly blunt. He glared at the tables behind him. In one of the seats sat a middle aged man in a suit. There was with a woman with him who was all dressed up. They didn't look like a husband and wife. It looked more like they had come to relax at the bar before heading up to their hotel room for some fun.

  The man's face was red. He'd had a bit to drink. Date's eyes were glaring straight at him.