A/N: Gag me with a fucking spoon. And yes, I do understand how hard it is to really find work in Japan.
And another note: I do not wish to receive flames from little anime fangirls claiming that I did not use the Japanese language correctly. Just knowing one word in Japanese, which usually is "kawaii," meaning cute, doesn't make you a Japanese language expert. I'm not claiming to be one, either, but I have studied it in school for eight years: 3 in middle school, 4 in high school, and 1 in college. So, the chances are, I actually AM using it correctly. And I'd be glad to translate anything for you if you ask.
Life goes on.
My release from the WWE wasn't the end of the world for me. I had other things going on. I had the tattoo shop. Sure, I didn't have a girl or anything, but still, I wasn't a total loser. I was a free business man. I should've put all of my time and energy into my shop. Body art is a passion of mine.
It just sucks that wrestling is an even bigger passion.
So, I did what I had to do. I left the store in the care of one of my friends who is not related to the wrestling industry. I packed my bags and went to the only place that would hire a guy like me for good work.
I flew out to Japan.
The strong looking man screamed at the group of wrestlers surrounding the ring. I assumed he was the promoter for JCW, Japan Championship Wrestling.
"MISTER MOORE!" he bellowed, and my head snapped in his direction. Me? How did he know? Well, I guess that I didn't exactly blend in with the surroundings…
I rushed up to him and said, "You called for me, sir?"
He jumped off of the podium he was standing on, brandishing a whip in my face. His long, black hair was pulled into ponytail. His dark eyes looked menacing, and his baggy ninja pants were tied at his waist with a red sash.
Part of me wanted to say, "Sorry, sir, but that's not really my thing." I refrained from doing so.
"Called for you? You are late. This is most dishonorable in the Japanese culture," he explained.
"I got a little lost," I shrugged. Hey, this was my first time in a different country on my own. When I was with the WWE, we didn't have to travel on our own like this. We went places as a group.
"Then you should have asked for directions!" He flicked his whip to the side of him, making a loud cracking sound. "MIZUKI-SAN!"
"Nandaro?" a small woman muttered, with her head bowed. It looked like she feared this man. Taking a close look at her, I saw she was rather pretty. She looked like she weighed no more than one hundred pounds, but she didn't look like a little girl. She looked to be at least twenty-five. I don't know, maybe it was just in her face. She was wearing a bright red kimono adorned with black flowers as a design, a pink sash holding it together.
The man muttered something in quick Japanese that I did not catch. She deeply bowed to him and turned to me after he had walked away.
"Shannon?" she said.
I was taken aback. I didn't expect her to know English. Actually, I didn't expect many of the people to understand English. "You speak English?"
She giggled. "Only a little. Please, be patient with me, sir. English is not of my best speaking…"
I could tell.
"So, what is your name?" I asked. She seemed to already know mine, so I had to know hers. It was only the right thing.
"Mizuki," she said, bowing to me.
"You don't have to do that…"
"Oh, but I must! I must always bow to my people who are above me," she said, bowing deeper.
"Above you? I'm not above anybody!" Seriously, is this how Japan really is? That's messed up.
"Yes, you are above me. I am the least of anyone here. Even as a wrestler, I am less than the stage crew."
"You're a wrestler?" I asked. Wow, I was sure she would break at any second. Either that or the wind would blow her away.
"Yes, sir. I am one of two women here. But Kairi is held much more than me…I am nothing here."
I wasn't quite getting this. She wrestles, but they treat her like crap? Maybe she's really bad or something, but still. That's horrible.
I really wanted to get off that subject, so I asked, "So, who was that mean guy?"
She stood upright and turned red. "Oh, that is Shinoda-sensei. He runs JCW. He is a very nice man."
"Nice? Doesn't seem like it the way he treats you." Seriously, I think this girl is delusional. Or maybe the Japanese culture is reversed. You know, nice is mean and mean is nice. I don't know.
"MIZUKI-SAN!" Shinoda-sensei screamed, causing Mizuki to flinch.
"I am sorry, Shannon-chan. I must be gone now!" She scuttled away to Shinoda-sensei, and I watched as he screamed at her.
I don't know if I'm going to like it here very much.