Post by Gensai on Oct 15, 2018 8:57:46 GMT -5
We find ourselves down some back alley littered with small bars and food stalls somewhere in wet and rainy Fukuoka, Japan. We happen upon a small restaurant, sign all in Japanese. By the heavenly smell of meat and fire coming from inside we know instantly… yakiniku. Inside several of the tables are occupied by a host of unremarkable looking people enjoying a late lunch.
At a table by the door however sits two men obviously not on break from their office cubicles.
The Ghost Go Gensai and The Heavenly King Hironobu Minamoto.
All bleached hair and track suits, the two grizzled young veterans share the hazarded glances from the other patrons. Even signing a few scant autographs for the random super fan that might actually recognize one or both of them. Gensai puts another plateful of marinated steak strips on the little grill embedded in the tabletop.
The two grapplers converse in their native tongue over their meal.
“Was that messiness with that Seville lad necessary?” Minamoto narrows his eyes at his dining companion as he fills his plate with some already done strips of beef.
Gensai looks up over the tops of his eyes “Do you actually care about the man or are you just curious about what I'm doing here?”
The Prophet of King’s Road simply sits there and starts in on the crispy beef with his chopsticks. His silence speaks all Gensai needs to hear.
“Age and injury have made you cautious.” Go snarls cloyingly.
Minamoto raises his eyes from his bowl to meet Gensai’s gaze. “I like to train. I enjoy the dojo.”
Gensai leans over the table slightly. “When we’re standing across the ring from that barbaric American and that gooey fat little clown we WON’T be training my friend. I’m blessed in this match with a partner who knows me. Knows how I… work. I want to win, Minamoto san.”
The Pale General’s upper lip curls at this.
”I refuse to lose.”
Hironobu Minamoto sets his bowl down on the table and sits up straight. “You refuse, do you? And what if you lose, then? Go rampaging around backstage and smash every white face you see? What then?”
Gensai just rolls his eyes and goes about filling his own bowl with beef from the grill. He grumbles half to himself. “Smash a few more. And a few more… Because I enjoy it. And they all deserve it. How can this company continue to tour and hire these foreigners and leave you to linger… “
Minamoto interrupts “to train.”
Gensai shoots back “to ROT. To rot, old friend. You lurk around that dojo like an old bear in his cave. The very idea you couldn't run through anyone on that card if you’d raise up your head and FIGHT. That’s all I want you to do. To show me that inside that chest still beats the sort of fighter I need beside me to route that Aplachan freak and that smiling nitwit.”
The Heavenly King narrows his eyes just so “I am. And you know I am. Whatever your personal feelings about my chosen lot in life. I will always be THAT fighter.”
The Ghost’s smile returns at that “Good. Very good. So… “
Gensai shovels some beef and rice into his mouth. “What do you think of… our opponents, eh?” he chews through his question.
Minamoto crosses his arms in thought “Yamazaki is easily managed. Strong but slow. He has the talent but he lacks the wits. This American though. This Frank Dylan James he’s something very different. He’s no mindless monster. He’s shrewd. He fights with purpose. With heart, even.”
Gensai turns his nose up at the very idea. “He’s a slobbering DOG. Dogs can be tamed.”
Minamoto shakes his head. “If you underestimate this one you’ll end up regretting it, friend.”
The Ghost sets his bowl down with a clatter, running a napkin across his mouth. “I know who the big bastard is. I know where he’s been and what he’s done. I also know, like you said, he’s got a soft headed fool of a partner watching his back.”
He pops another piece of meat into his mouth with another grin. “Unlike me. Who has a talented old friend watching mine. I think together we can chop down this ignorant TREE of an American.”
Minamoto nods. “Maybe we can." He pulls something from his pants pocket and unfolds it. "Maybe we can also win ourselves some spending money… ”
The Heavenly King slides a flyer across the table “¥20,000,000 PRIZE” it reads.
The Pale General laughs loads up another plateful of beef to the little tabletop grill.
As the meat starts to hiss and pop due to the flames Gensai looks through the smoke rising from the center of the table and smiles confidently at his old friend. “Maybe we can indeed. Taxi fare is on me. Wake up, old bear. It’s time for us to EAT.”
Ghostly laughter from The Pale General as we fade to black.
At a table by the door however sits two men obviously not on break from their office cubicles.
The Ghost Go Gensai and The Heavenly King Hironobu Minamoto.
All bleached hair and track suits, the two grizzled young veterans share the hazarded glances from the other patrons. Even signing a few scant autographs for the random super fan that might actually recognize one or both of them. Gensai puts another plateful of marinated steak strips on the little grill embedded in the tabletop.
The two grapplers converse in their native tongue over their meal.
“Was that messiness with that Seville lad necessary?” Minamoto narrows his eyes at his dining companion as he fills his plate with some already done strips of beef.
Gensai looks up over the tops of his eyes “Do you actually care about the man or are you just curious about what I'm doing here?”
The Prophet of King’s Road simply sits there and starts in on the crispy beef with his chopsticks. His silence speaks all Gensai needs to hear.
“Age and injury have made you cautious.” Go snarls cloyingly.
Minamoto raises his eyes from his bowl to meet Gensai’s gaze. “I like to train. I enjoy the dojo.”
Gensai leans over the table slightly. “When we’re standing across the ring from that barbaric American and that gooey fat little clown we WON’T be training my friend. I’m blessed in this match with a partner who knows me. Knows how I… work. I want to win, Minamoto san.”
The Pale General’s upper lip curls at this.
”I refuse to lose.”
Hironobu Minamoto sets his bowl down on the table and sits up straight. “You refuse, do you? And what if you lose, then? Go rampaging around backstage and smash every white face you see? What then?”
Gensai just rolls his eyes and goes about filling his own bowl with beef from the grill. He grumbles half to himself. “Smash a few more. And a few more… Because I enjoy it. And they all deserve it. How can this company continue to tour and hire these foreigners and leave you to linger… “
Minamoto interrupts “to train.”
Gensai shoots back “to ROT. To rot, old friend. You lurk around that dojo like an old bear in his cave. The very idea you couldn't run through anyone on that card if you’d raise up your head and FIGHT. That’s all I want you to do. To show me that inside that chest still beats the sort of fighter I need beside me to route that Aplachan freak and that smiling nitwit.”
The Heavenly King narrows his eyes just so “I am. And you know I am. Whatever your personal feelings about my chosen lot in life. I will always be THAT fighter.”
The Ghost’s smile returns at that “Good. Very good. So… “
Gensai shovels some beef and rice into his mouth. “What do you think of… our opponents, eh?” he chews through his question.
Minamoto crosses his arms in thought “Yamazaki is easily managed. Strong but slow. He has the talent but he lacks the wits. This American though. This Frank Dylan James he’s something very different. He’s no mindless monster. He’s shrewd. He fights with purpose. With heart, even.”
Gensai turns his nose up at the very idea. “He’s a slobbering DOG. Dogs can be tamed.”
Minamoto shakes his head. “If you underestimate this one you’ll end up regretting it, friend.”
The Ghost sets his bowl down with a clatter, running a napkin across his mouth. “I know who the big bastard is. I know where he’s been and what he’s done. I also know, like you said, he’s got a soft headed fool of a partner watching his back.”
He pops another piece of meat into his mouth with another grin. “Unlike me. Who has a talented old friend watching mine. I think together we can chop down this ignorant TREE of an American.”
Minamoto nods. “Maybe we can." He pulls something from his pants pocket and unfolds it. "Maybe we can also win ourselves some spending money… ”
The Heavenly King slides a flyer across the table “¥20,000,000 PRIZE” it reads.
The Pale General laughs loads up another plateful of beef to the little tabletop grill.
As the meat starts to hiss and pop due to the flames Gensai looks through the smoke rising from the center of the table and smiles confidently at his old friend. “Maybe we can indeed. Taxi fare is on me. Wake up, old bear. It’s time for us to EAT.”
Ghostly laughter from The Pale General as we fade to black.