Post by JNK on Feb 28, 2024 20:45:54 GMT -5
OOC: This roleplay is a direct continuation of my previous SEX Cup roleplay ("Killing Moon") with heavy references to my SEX Cup quarter-final roleplay from last year ("Flowers of Carnage"). Please enjoy.
The knife.
It rests on the floor between them.
Silence falls over the dimly lit corner store. Silence... aside from the dull, monotonous hum of the aging vending machines lining the walls and the panicked, heavy breathing of two young women staring into one another's eyes... eyes they once thought they'd never see into again. Hanako's gaze wavers and her eyes fall upon the knife... the sticky crimson splotches along the sharpened edge... the viscous red that's seeped into the crevices of the wooden handle.
SATORI: < Hanako... what did you do? >
Hanako doesn't answer... her eyes remain locked on the knife.
SATORI: < Where -- >
Satori's words catch in her throat. She swallows, then forces them back up, dripping with confusion and concern but mostly confusion. She cringes at her inability to sound like anything less than a scared little girl.
SATORI: < -- where have you been? >
Hanako's eyes are narrowed, dark, shrouded by a curtain of messy orange hair. Still, she doesn't look at Satori. She speaks aloud... voice low, a forceful whisper.
HANAKO: < You would never understand. >
Hanako kneels quickly, aggressively, reaching for the knife but Satori is faster, wrapping her pale, thin fingers around the wooden handle and bringing it close to her chest, standing and stepping away from Hanako... kneeling, palms down flat on the murky green floor. She stares down at the spot where the knife was lying a split second ago.
SATORI: < Try me. >
Breathing heavily, Hanako looks up at her. Satori sees the pink smudge on Hanako's cheek, feels the sticky residue from the handle of the knife in her hand. She does her best to fight off the emotions overwhelming her.
HANAKO: < I... I don't want to hurt you, Satori... I could never -- >
SATORI: < You said I wouldn't understand -- >
She bites her bottom lip nervously.
SATORI: < -- try me. >
The door rattles as it's pushed open from outside... a bell jingles to signify the arrival of a late night customer. Satori's eyes widen as Hanako sits up on her knees, bolt upright. She extends her hand, pale and stained pink.
HANAKO: < Satori, give it to me. I... I'll go. >
Satori looks down at her, then at the knife in her hand. She swallows hard and then puts her hand behind her back, doing her best to obscure the blade behind her worn out denim jacket. She looks down at Hanako, sees the pleading look in the eyes of her childhood friend.
HANAKO: < You won't ever see me again -- >
The words... they cause Satori to visibly recoil, gently shaking her head.
SATORI: < Get up before someone sees you. >
The customer crosses the aisles, nearing them. Satori's tone rises --
-- sharp like the knife in her hand.
SATORI: < Hide... now. >
Darkness.
Chain link fence.
A flickering spotlight.
Junko and Hanako stand in front of the fence separating them from the forest beyond. They're both in black hoodies, their t-shirts underneath representative of their respective colors, blue and orange. Hanako's pale skin practically glows under the spotlight. Shifting uneasily, Junko speaks aloud, barely more than a reserved mumble, prompting Hanako to raise an eyebrow.
JUNKO: < This has been the most challenging month of my career. >
HANAKO: < It's not gonna get any easier, huh? Might as well just dive in head first. >
Junko nods slightly, turning her gaze toward the camera.
JUNKO: < In just a few days, we step into the ring with two of the most dangerous tag teams in the world today... made up of four highly decorated competitors, including the man who will challenge for the TPW International Championship at Thunder in Paradise, "Chronic" Chris Page. >
Junko lowers her eyes, taking a breath.
JUNKO: < This is the second time I've reached the semi-finals of the SEX Cup Tournament... last year, Brooke Blakely and I coasted on a dream in an attempt to weave a future as TPW Duos Champions that was never meant to be. That failure sent me down a path of no return... and that path has led me to the semi-finals again this year with more experience, improved skills, and a partner that... >
She almost sounds uncertain.
JUNKO: < ...I can trust with my life. >
Hanako nods, reaching out and gripping Junko's shoulder.
JUNKO: < This is my first time meeting any of these four competitors in the ring... Chris Page, Robert Main, Leah Aguero, or El Diablo Blanco. On their own, they are formidable opponents... an off-night for no one. Together, as tag team units, their power is only doubled... faced with taking on both teams at the same time is a daunting task. Some might even call it... an impossible task -- >
She raises her eyes to the camera, locking in.
JUNKO: < -- like staring death in the face. >
Hanako doesn't react, eyes on Junko as she continues.
JUNKO: < However, it's a challenge that we will rise to meet. >
Hanako nods, turns her head to face the camera.
JUNKO: < I'll admit, I felt doubt when it was announced that both tag teams would move on to the semi-finals to face us... it felt like the whole world was against us, a feeling we're not unaccustomed to. However, it's that very feeling that drives us forward. It pushes us to do our very best. >
HANAKO: < It's actually real simple... everyone thinks me and Junko are the number three team in this match. No one really thinks we have what it takes to beat the big bad leftovers from The Cabal or old ass Chris Page and his sidekick... but take a look at me. I said look at me! Do I look like someone who cares about what you've done in the past, about your reputations? Junko wants to win because this tournament means something to her for some reason... she wants the accolades and the respect that comes with it -- >
Hanako smirks... there's a cruel humor in her voice.
HANAKO: < -- I want to win because Junko wants to win... and because I know it's gonna piss you off. I mean, wouldn't you just sh!t if I pinned "Chronic" Chris Page in my second-ever career match? >
She giggles.
HANAKO: < Wouldn't you just sh!t?! >
She turns away, smiling... covering her mouth with the sleeve of her jacket.
JUNKO: < I said in front of the world that I'll win this tournament and the field set in front of us has been challenging to say the least. The odds have been against us but the odds have been against us our entire lives. The New Breed were worthy challengers but they fell before us. No one could have possibly predicted that outcome. Now, we are only days away from standing across the ring from Cataclysm and the D&L Connection... another match we're expected to lose. >
HANAKO: < We're not gonna lose. >
JUNKO: < Right now, I have more momentum in my career than I've ever had before. This month, we defeated The New Breed... then, with the rest of the Thunderamaniacs, we beat five of the strongest competitors WGWF had to offer, and only a few days ago at the Denzel Porter Invitational, I pinned a former world champion, Tatiana Jolee. >
Hanako nods, confidence etched across her face.
JUNKO: < Together, we'll ride that momentum to victory... the traitorous El Diablo won't stand in our way, nor will his partner, the inferior cousin of Stephanie Matsuda, a competitor I'm very familiar with. More importantly, Robert Main will not stop me from getting my hands on Chris Page and showing the world that I truly belong among the top competitors, not just in TPW... but the world. >
Junko points into the camera.
JUNKO: < There's also a chance that Peter Vaughn and Joe Montuori could advance to the finals... and I will not miss this opportunity to not only get my hands on Montuori one more time before our deathmatch... but to exact my own revenge on Vaughn for what he did to Matt Knox at the DPI. The Raven is my rival... but a rival I respect... and I'll do my best to overcome this triple threat, right the wrong done to my friend... and win the SEX Cup Tournament. >
Hanako bites her bottom lip, almost as if she's uncertain she should say what she's thinking... but she does.
HANAKO: < Junko-chan... what if Knox makes it to the finals of the tournament, too? >
Junko's eyes narrow as she meets Hanako's gaze.
JUNKO: < Then Peter Vaughn is going to have a very bad night. >
Hanako smiles, there's darkness in her eyes.
JUNKO: < Winning this tournament means everything to me. The SEX Cup brought me to the United States last year... it propelled me toward achieving my dream of becoming a number one pro-wrestler. If that's ever going to become true... I must win this tournament. That means I have to win this match... I can't let anyone stop me! >
Junko breathes heavily, feeling it.
JUNKO: < Losing is not an option. >
She raises her chin, staring down her nose into the camera.
JUNKO: < Please understand. >
Hanako sleeps.
She sleeps like she hasn't rested in days.
Satori sits with her back to the wall of her dimly lit, run-down family home. The walls are peeling, yellowed with age. Dust particles float along waves of pale light emanating from a nearby lamp. It's obvious that care has been taken to maintain some semblance of order in the home... but opposing forces are at work, both age and lack of maintenance as well as Satori's father, blackout drunk in another room, snoring loudly.
Gently, Satori pets the orange head in her lap, occasionally running her fingers through lengths of Hanako's brightly colored hair. Placing her other hand on Hanako's shoulder, she looks down at her childhood friend, wondering how this came to be. After the store closed for the night, she thoroughly cleaned the restroom of any evidence Hanako had been there... followed by mopping the main floor and eventually disposing of the sticky red knife, wiping it down and separating the blade from the handle before depositing the pieces in different trash cans on opposite ends of the corner.
She doesn't know why.
She just saw it in a movie.
All of this occurred while Hanako followed her plea, hiding.
On their way to Satori's home, even during the hour or longer they waited for Satori's father to drink himself to sleep, Hanako told her nothing... what she'd done... where she'd been...
And she didn't ask.
Now, she sits in silence, feeling oddly calm despite the circumstances... reunited with her best friend for the first time in ten years, her best friend that she always knew deep down was dead, gone forever. As she feels Hanako's body rise and fall ever-so-slightly with each heavy breath, she looks across her prone form, the orange hair, the black jacket... and she sees something peculiar peeking from her pocket. With one trembling hand, Satori reaches, takes the item between her thumb and index finger... and gently plucks it free, feeling her heart leap into her throat as she lays eyes on the photograph, smeared with red.
Her heart begins to pound as she recognizes the man in the photograph, older now than when she last saw him many years ago. The voice from below startles her, almost makes her choke on the heart in her throat.
HANAKO: < I can explain. >
Satori lowers the photo, looks down, sees Hanako pushing herself onto all fours, doing her best to shake away the sleep fogging up her brain. Satori looks away from Hanako, at the figure in the photo... the woman... the baby.
SATORI: < He was Kino's friend. >
Hanako doesn't say anything.
SATORI: < They... they're why you were gone -- >
She swallows.
SATORI: < -- all this time? >
Hanako nods, silent.
SATORI: < And the knife... it was for -- >
Hanako doesn't answer. She reaches out, takes the photo from Satori and looks down at it. She narrows her eyes, feeling a torrential mix of emotions flow through her head and her heart all at once. Resting on her knees only a few inches away from Satori, she cuts her eyes up in her direction, meets her gaze... answers her question without a spoken word. Satori nods and takes a deep breath.
SATORI: < Good. >
She reaches out, grabs Hanako's hand... squeezes it.
Looking deep into Hanako's eyes, she reiterates the sentiment, sounding almost forceful as the word rolls off her tongue one more time.
SATORI: < Good. >
Hanako's heart swells.
For the first time in a long time, she feels safe.
Night.
Swollen yellow moon.
Dark, ragged clouds streak the sky.
Waves crash against the rocks just below their feet as the tide comes in. Mist from the sea kisses Junko's pale face, accentuating the cool breeze whipping around her, giving it teeth. She tenses up, fights the urge to draw her black jacket closer around her. She doesn't want the man standing next to her to see her tremble.
She doesn't want him to see her as weak.
Takeshi Endo places a cigarette between his lips before raising his lighter, cupping his hand around it to protect the flame from the breeze, succeeding on the first try. He puffs on the cigarette lightly before pocketing the lighter and plucking the cigarette from his mouth between two fingers. Slicked back hair, black three-piece suit, the grim expression of a man that's seen things --
-- no.
He's done things.
She knows this.
She was there.
Once upon a time.
His features are mostly obscured by shadow. The pale light of the moon struggles to illuminate him as the clouds above run interference. Junko looks up at him, sees him unbothered by the mist, the breeze, the tension between them. He raises the cigarette to his mouth and the cherry flickers in his eyes, pools of empty black with pin pricked red centers. Even with shadows draped lazily across his face, she can see the wear and tear across his features... she can see just how tired he is.
King Kota would have called it the price you pay for being an adult.
She wonders quietly if Endo ever heard him say such a thing.
ENDO: < I told you to stay away from Japan. >
His voice is low, guttural... barely more than a growl.
ENDO: < One year ago... do you remember that? >
He turns his head to face her, finding her staring out across the water.
ENDO: < In my club... with your friend -- >
JUNKO: < -- she isn't my friend. >
Brooke Blakely.
She was her first friend upon arriving in the United States.
An arrangement that only lasted for as long as Junko was useful to her.
JUNKO: < She never was. >
She's short, stern... the corner of Endo's mouth turns upward, amused by the abrupt correction. Looking away, exhaling smoke through his nose, he's fully aware this isn't the girl he mentored in secret more than five years ago. He's not even sure if she's the same girl he warned to stay out of Japan last year.
ENDO: < Friends don't come easy, do they? >
She remains silent... only the sound of waves crashing below.
He answers his own question.
ENDO: < No. >
Deep breath.
ENDO: < Not for people like us. >
He takes a drag from the cigarette, exhales.
ENDO: < I hope that I have been a good friend to you, Junko-chan... for whatever the words of a gangster are worth. >
JUNKO: < If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have had the courage to escape and find Chiba Hideo. I never would've been able to leave Japan at all and embark on my journey to become a number one pro-wrestler. >
She looks up at him, face illuminated by the cigarette's cherry.
JUNKO: < Everything I've done... everywhere I've gone -- >
She turns away, finally feeling comfortable enough to pull her jacket tight.
JUNKO: < -- all of it begins with your lessons. >
He huffs. She looks up at him, confused.
JUNKO: < Did I say something funny? >
ENDO: < You were the one with the dream. >
He cuts his eyes in her direction.
ENDO: < If you didn't want it -- >
She looks down at the rocky terrain beneath her feet.
ENDO: < -- weren't willing to fight for it -- >
He takes one final drag from the cigarette, exhaling smoke through gritted teeth.
ENDO: < -- you wouldn't f*cking be here. >
He flicks the cigarette butt into the water below.
She does her best not to show him what his words mean to her.
JUNKO: < Do you have what I asked for? >
He smirks, making a mental note of her deflection.
ENDO: < Straight to business, huh? >
He raises his hand just slightly overhead, snapping his fingers.
ENDO: < You always did have tunnel vision when it came to things you wanted... even as a child. There was a time when I found that endearing. Now, knowing you should know better than to be so ignorant... it's kind of annoying. >
He looks down at her, sneering.
ENDO: < Once, professional wrestling was all you cared about -- >
She looks up at him, meeting his gaze... trying her hardest not to let the disappointment in his tone hurt as much as it absolutely does.
ENDO: < -- why do you want to find her now? >
From the shadows beyond the rocky beach, a heavy set man in a black suit emerges, tattoo on his face. He's carrying a folder close to his chest, protecting it. Junko looks over her shoulder, recognizing the man from Endo's club one year ago... loaded with pain pills and alcohol at the time, she was too far gone to be intimidated by his presence.
JUNKO: < I need to know. >
Seeing him through sober eyes, she's thankful their interaction never became physical.
ENDO: < What could you possibly want to know? >
The man presents the file folder to Endo and returns to the shadows without a word. Endo holds the folder in front of him in one hand, looking down at it, eyes dark... emotionless. He takes a deep breath, staring down at the photo clipped to the front. He turns his gaze toward the girl next to him, sees her eyes locked on the item in his hands. Though he doesn't raise his voice, it echoes.
She feels it.
ENDO: < No more games... explain yourself, Junko-chan. >
The waves below cry out.
JUNKO: < I need to know why she... sold me to those men. >
She doesn't look up at him... she's fixated on the folder.
JUNKO: < The men you worked for -- >
He glares at her, hand beginning to tremble with --
JUNKO: < -- the men... like you've become. >
-- anger.
ENDO: < I am nothing like those men! >
She clenches her fists at her sides, directing her eyes up at him, finally.
ENDO: < Do you really want to know why your mother sold you... threw you away like trash, knowing full-well what would eventually happen to you when King Kota and his thugs were done with you? >
He practically seethes the word.
Spittle flies from his mouth.
ENDO: < Money. >
He shakes the folder in her face.
ENDO: < There's no sob story... she didn't get rid of you so that she and your father could pay rent or eat for another day. She didn't even do it for something as selfish as paying off a gambling debt to save their skin. >
She snatches the folder from him, looking down at it. Seeing the photograph clipped to the front, her hands begin to shake... the first time she's laid eyes on her mother in nearly eleven years. The photo is recent... she's smiling, standing with a man, well-dressed... obviously connected.
JUNKO: < She's still so... beautiful. >
She blinks, memories flood back... a fist tightens in her chest.
JUNKO: < Just like I remem -- >
He cuts her off abruptly... harshly.
ENDO: < Junko-chan, you meant nothing to her. >
There's pain in his eyes, almost as much as her own.
ENDO: < Like your father... you were an obstacle to her. >
She looks up at him, eyes watering, threatening to overflow. He shakes his head.
ENDO: < Nothing more. >
Junko bites her bottom lip... hard.
JUNKO: < I... want to hear her say it. >
ENDO: < If you go to her... you will. >
There's sadness in his tone.
ENDO: < I promise you. >
For a long moment, neither of them say a word. Looking down at the photograph once again, she shifts uneasily. The gravel rolls and pops beneath her sneakers. Endo, facing the water, cuts his eyes in her direction.
ENDO: < I imagine you... must be going now. >
She swallows, eyes set on her mother's smile.
JUNKO: < I should -- >
ENDO: < Go, then. >
She nods gently, clutches the folder tightly in both hands.
She bows her head.
JUNKO: < Thank you, Endo-san. >
His only response, a dissatisfied grunt.
She turns, begins to walk away.
Facing the water, still... he calls out to her.
ENDO: < Junko-chan, it's not too late to turn back. >
She stops in her tracks, looks over her shoulder... listens.
ENDO: < Some stones... they're better left unturned. >
JUNKO: < I've spent the last five years running from my past, Endo-san -- >
Though quiet, meek... her voice carries across the distance.
JUNKO: < -- I want to find out what happens when I don't. >
It rests on the floor between them.
Silence falls over the dimly lit corner store. Silence... aside from the dull, monotonous hum of the aging vending machines lining the walls and the panicked, heavy breathing of two young women staring into one another's eyes... eyes they once thought they'd never see into again. Hanako's gaze wavers and her eyes fall upon the knife... the sticky crimson splotches along the sharpened edge... the viscous red that's seeped into the crevices of the wooden handle.
SATORI: < Hanako... what did you do? >
Hanako doesn't answer... her eyes remain locked on the knife.
SATORI: < Where -- >
Satori's words catch in her throat. She swallows, then forces them back up, dripping with confusion and concern but mostly confusion. She cringes at her inability to sound like anything less than a scared little girl.
SATORI: < -- where have you been? >
Hanako's eyes are narrowed, dark, shrouded by a curtain of messy orange hair. Still, she doesn't look at Satori. She speaks aloud... voice low, a forceful whisper.
HANAKO: < You would never understand. >
Hanako kneels quickly, aggressively, reaching for the knife but Satori is faster, wrapping her pale, thin fingers around the wooden handle and bringing it close to her chest, standing and stepping away from Hanako... kneeling, palms down flat on the murky green floor. She stares down at the spot where the knife was lying a split second ago.
SATORI: < Try me. >
Breathing heavily, Hanako looks up at her. Satori sees the pink smudge on Hanako's cheek, feels the sticky residue from the handle of the knife in her hand. She does her best to fight off the emotions overwhelming her.
HANAKO: < I... I don't want to hurt you, Satori... I could never -- >
SATORI: < You said I wouldn't understand -- >
She bites her bottom lip nervously.
SATORI: < -- try me. >
The door rattles as it's pushed open from outside... a bell jingles to signify the arrival of a late night customer. Satori's eyes widen as Hanako sits up on her knees, bolt upright. She extends her hand, pale and stained pink.
HANAKO: < Satori, give it to me. I... I'll go. >
Satori looks down at her, then at the knife in her hand. She swallows hard and then puts her hand behind her back, doing her best to obscure the blade behind her worn out denim jacket. She looks down at Hanako, sees the pleading look in the eyes of her childhood friend.
HANAKO: < You won't ever see me again -- >
The words... they cause Satori to visibly recoil, gently shaking her head.
SATORI: < Get up before someone sees you. >
The customer crosses the aisles, nearing them. Satori's tone rises --
-- sharp like the knife in her hand.
SATORI: < Hide... now. >
< / > denotes foreign language translation
Chain link fence.
A flickering spotlight.
Junko and Hanako stand in front of the fence separating them from the forest beyond. They're both in black hoodies, their t-shirts underneath representative of their respective colors, blue and orange. Hanako's pale skin practically glows under the spotlight. Shifting uneasily, Junko speaks aloud, barely more than a reserved mumble, prompting Hanako to raise an eyebrow.
JUNKO: < This has been the most challenging month of my career. >
HANAKO: < It's not gonna get any easier, huh? Might as well just dive in head first. >
Junko nods slightly, turning her gaze toward the camera.
JUNKO: < In just a few days, we step into the ring with two of the most dangerous tag teams in the world today... made up of four highly decorated competitors, including the man who will challenge for the TPW International Championship at Thunder in Paradise, "Chronic" Chris Page. >
Junko lowers her eyes, taking a breath.
JUNKO: < This is the second time I've reached the semi-finals of the SEX Cup Tournament... last year, Brooke Blakely and I coasted on a dream in an attempt to weave a future as TPW Duos Champions that was never meant to be. That failure sent me down a path of no return... and that path has led me to the semi-finals again this year with more experience, improved skills, and a partner that... >
She almost sounds uncertain.
JUNKO: < ...I can trust with my life. >
Hanako nods, reaching out and gripping Junko's shoulder.
JUNKO: < This is my first time meeting any of these four competitors in the ring... Chris Page, Robert Main, Leah Aguero, or El Diablo Blanco. On their own, they are formidable opponents... an off-night for no one. Together, as tag team units, their power is only doubled... faced with taking on both teams at the same time is a daunting task. Some might even call it... an impossible task -- >
She raises her eyes to the camera, locking in.
JUNKO: < -- like staring death in the face. >
Hanako doesn't react, eyes on Junko as she continues.
JUNKO: < However, it's a challenge that we will rise to meet. >
Hanako nods, turns her head to face the camera.
JUNKO: < I'll admit, I felt doubt when it was announced that both tag teams would move on to the semi-finals to face us... it felt like the whole world was against us, a feeling we're not unaccustomed to. However, it's that very feeling that drives us forward. It pushes us to do our very best. >
HANAKO: < It's actually real simple... everyone thinks me and Junko are the number three team in this match. No one really thinks we have what it takes to beat the big bad leftovers from The Cabal or old ass Chris Page and his sidekick... but take a look at me. I said look at me! Do I look like someone who cares about what you've done in the past, about your reputations? Junko wants to win because this tournament means something to her for some reason... she wants the accolades and the respect that comes with it -- >
Hanako smirks... there's a cruel humor in her voice.
HANAKO: < -- I want to win because Junko wants to win... and because I know it's gonna piss you off. I mean, wouldn't you just sh!t if I pinned "Chronic" Chris Page in my second-ever career match? >
She giggles.
HANAKO: < Wouldn't you just sh!t?! >
She turns away, smiling... covering her mouth with the sleeve of her jacket.
JUNKO: < I said in front of the world that I'll win this tournament and the field set in front of us has been challenging to say the least. The odds have been against us but the odds have been against us our entire lives. The New Breed were worthy challengers but they fell before us. No one could have possibly predicted that outcome. Now, we are only days away from standing across the ring from Cataclysm and the D&L Connection... another match we're expected to lose. >
HANAKO: < We're not gonna lose. >
JUNKO: < Right now, I have more momentum in my career than I've ever had before. This month, we defeated The New Breed... then, with the rest of the Thunderamaniacs, we beat five of the strongest competitors WGWF had to offer, and only a few days ago at the Denzel Porter Invitational, I pinned a former world champion, Tatiana Jolee. >
Hanako nods, confidence etched across her face.
JUNKO: < Together, we'll ride that momentum to victory... the traitorous El Diablo won't stand in our way, nor will his partner, the inferior cousin of Stephanie Matsuda, a competitor I'm very familiar with. More importantly, Robert Main will not stop me from getting my hands on Chris Page and showing the world that I truly belong among the top competitors, not just in TPW... but the world. >
Junko points into the camera.
JUNKO: < There's also a chance that Peter Vaughn and Joe Montuori could advance to the finals... and I will not miss this opportunity to not only get my hands on Montuori one more time before our deathmatch... but to exact my own revenge on Vaughn for what he did to Matt Knox at the DPI. The Raven is my rival... but a rival I respect... and I'll do my best to overcome this triple threat, right the wrong done to my friend... and win the SEX Cup Tournament. >
Hanako bites her bottom lip, almost as if she's uncertain she should say what she's thinking... but she does.
HANAKO: < Junko-chan... what if Knox makes it to the finals of the tournament, too? >
Junko's eyes narrow as she meets Hanako's gaze.
JUNKO: < Then Peter Vaughn is going to have a very bad night. >
Hanako smiles, there's darkness in her eyes.
JUNKO: < Winning this tournament means everything to me. The SEX Cup brought me to the United States last year... it propelled me toward achieving my dream of becoming a number one pro-wrestler. If that's ever going to become true... I must win this tournament. That means I have to win this match... I can't let anyone stop me! >
Junko breathes heavily, feeling it.
JUNKO: < Losing is not an option. >
She raises her chin, staring down her nose into the camera.
JUNKO: < Please understand. >
Hanako sleeps.
She sleeps like she hasn't rested in days.
Satori sits with her back to the wall of her dimly lit, run-down family home. The walls are peeling, yellowed with age. Dust particles float along waves of pale light emanating from a nearby lamp. It's obvious that care has been taken to maintain some semblance of order in the home... but opposing forces are at work, both age and lack of maintenance as well as Satori's father, blackout drunk in another room, snoring loudly.
Gently, Satori pets the orange head in her lap, occasionally running her fingers through lengths of Hanako's brightly colored hair. Placing her other hand on Hanako's shoulder, she looks down at her childhood friend, wondering how this came to be. After the store closed for the night, she thoroughly cleaned the restroom of any evidence Hanako had been there... followed by mopping the main floor and eventually disposing of the sticky red knife, wiping it down and separating the blade from the handle before depositing the pieces in different trash cans on opposite ends of the corner.
She doesn't know why.
She just saw it in a movie.
All of this occurred while Hanako followed her plea, hiding.
On their way to Satori's home, even during the hour or longer they waited for Satori's father to drink himself to sleep, Hanako told her nothing... what she'd done... where she'd been...
And she didn't ask.
Now, she sits in silence, feeling oddly calm despite the circumstances... reunited with her best friend for the first time in ten years, her best friend that she always knew deep down was dead, gone forever. As she feels Hanako's body rise and fall ever-so-slightly with each heavy breath, she looks across her prone form, the orange hair, the black jacket... and she sees something peculiar peeking from her pocket. With one trembling hand, Satori reaches, takes the item between her thumb and index finger... and gently plucks it free, feeling her heart leap into her throat as she lays eyes on the photograph, smeared with red.
Her heart begins to pound as she recognizes the man in the photograph, older now than when she last saw him many years ago. The voice from below startles her, almost makes her choke on the heart in her throat.
HANAKO: < I can explain. >
Satori lowers the photo, looks down, sees Hanako pushing herself onto all fours, doing her best to shake away the sleep fogging up her brain. Satori looks away from Hanako, at the figure in the photo... the woman... the baby.
SATORI: < He was Kino's friend. >
Hanako doesn't say anything.
SATORI: < They... they're why you were gone -- >
She swallows.
SATORI: < -- all this time? >
Hanako nods, silent.
SATORI: < And the knife... it was for -- >
Hanako doesn't answer. She reaches out, takes the photo from Satori and looks down at it. She narrows her eyes, feeling a torrential mix of emotions flow through her head and her heart all at once. Resting on her knees only a few inches away from Satori, she cuts her eyes up in her direction, meets her gaze... answers her question without a spoken word. Satori nods and takes a deep breath.
SATORI: < Good. >
She reaches out, grabs Hanako's hand... squeezes it.
Looking deep into Hanako's eyes, she reiterates the sentiment, sounding almost forceful as the word rolls off her tongue one more time.
SATORI: < Good. >
Hanako's heart swells.
For the first time in a long time, she feels safe.
Swollen yellow moon.
Dark, ragged clouds streak the sky.
Waves crash against the rocks just below their feet as the tide comes in. Mist from the sea kisses Junko's pale face, accentuating the cool breeze whipping around her, giving it teeth. She tenses up, fights the urge to draw her black jacket closer around her. She doesn't want the man standing next to her to see her tremble.
She doesn't want him to see her as weak.
Takeshi Endo places a cigarette between his lips before raising his lighter, cupping his hand around it to protect the flame from the breeze, succeeding on the first try. He puffs on the cigarette lightly before pocketing the lighter and plucking the cigarette from his mouth between two fingers. Slicked back hair, black three-piece suit, the grim expression of a man that's seen things --
-- no.
He's done things.
She knows this.
She was there.
Once upon a time.
His features are mostly obscured by shadow. The pale light of the moon struggles to illuminate him as the clouds above run interference. Junko looks up at him, sees him unbothered by the mist, the breeze, the tension between them. He raises the cigarette to his mouth and the cherry flickers in his eyes, pools of empty black with pin pricked red centers. Even with shadows draped lazily across his face, she can see the wear and tear across his features... she can see just how tired he is.
King Kota would have called it the price you pay for being an adult.
She wonders quietly if Endo ever heard him say such a thing.
ENDO: < I told you to stay away from Japan. >
His voice is low, guttural... barely more than a growl.
ENDO: < One year ago... do you remember that? >
He turns his head to face her, finding her staring out across the water.
ENDO: < In my club... with your friend -- >
JUNKO: < -- she isn't my friend. >
Brooke Blakely.
She was her first friend upon arriving in the United States.
An arrangement that only lasted for as long as Junko was useful to her.
JUNKO: < She never was. >
She's short, stern... the corner of Endo's mouth turns upward, amused by the abrupt correction. Looking away, exhaling smoke through his nose, he's fully aware this isn't the girl he mentored in secret more than five years ago. He's not even sure if she's the same girl he warned to stay out of Japan last year.
ENDO: < Friends don't come easy, do they? >
She remains silent... only the sound of waves crashing below.
He answers his own question.
ENDO: < No. >
Deep breath.
ENDO: < Not for people like us. >
He takes a drag from the cigarette, exhales.
ENDO: < I hope that I have been a good friend to you, Junko-chan... for whatever the words of a gangster are worth. >
JUNKO: < If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have had the courage to escape and find Chiba Hideo. I never would've been able to leave Japan at all and embark on my journey to become a number one pro-wrestler. >
She looks up at him, face illuminated by the cigarette's cherry.
JUNKO: < Everything I've done... everywhere I've gone -- >
She turns away, finally feeling comfortable enough to pull her jacket tight.
JUNKO: < -- all of it begins with your lessons. >
He huffs. She looks up at him, confused.
JUNKO: < Did I say something funny? >
ENDO: < You were the one with the dream. >
He cuts his eyes in her direction.
ENDO: < If you didn't want it -- >
She looks down at the rocky terrain beneath her feet.
ENDO: < -- weren't willing to fight for it -- >
He takes one final drag from the cigarette, exhaling smoke through gritted teeth.
ENDO: < -- you wouldn't f*cking be here. >
He flicks the cigarette butt into the water below.
She does her best not to show him what his words mean to her.
JUNKO: < Do you have what I asked for? >
He smirks, making a mental note of her deflection.
ENDO: < Straight to business, huh? >
He raises his hand just slightly overhead, snapping his fingers.
ENDO: < You always did have tunnel vision when it came to things you wanted... even as a child. There was a time when I found that endearing. Now, knowing you should know better than to be so ignorant... it's kind of annoying. >
He looks down at her, sneering.
ENDO: < Once, professional wrestling was all you cared about -- >
She looks up at him, meeting his gaze... trying her hardest not to let the disappointment in his tone hurt as much as it absolutely does.
ENDO: < -- why do you want to find her now? >
From the shadows beyond the rocky beach, a heavy set man in a black suit emerges, tattoo on his face. He's carrying a folder close to his chest, protecting it. Junko looks over her shoulder, recognizing the man from Endo's club one year ago... loaded with pain pills and alcohol at the time, she was too far gone to be intimidated by his presence.
JUNKO: < I need to know. >
Seeing him through sober eyes, she's thankful their interaction never became physical.
ENDO: < What could you possibly want to know? >
The man presents the file folder to Endo and returns to the shadows without a word. Endo holds the folder in front of him in one hand, looking down at it, eyes dark... emotionless. He takes a deep breath, staring down at the photo clipped to the front. He turns his gaze toward the girl next to him, sees her eyes locked on the item in his hands. Though he doesn't raise his voice, it echoes.
She feels it.
ENDO: < No more games... explain yourself, Junko-chan. >
The waves below cry out.
JUNKO: < I need to know why she... sold me to those men. >
She doesn't look up at him... she's fixated on the folder.
JUNKO: < The men you worked for -- >
He glares at her, hand beginning to tremble with --
JUNKO: < -- the men... like you've become. >
-- anger.
ENDO: < I am nothing like those men! >
She clenches her fists at her sides, directing her eyes up at him, finally.
ENDO: < Do you really want to know why your mother sold you... threw you away like trash, knowing full-well what would eventually happen to you when King Kota and his thugs were done with you? >
He practically seethes the word.
Spittle flies from his mouth.
ENDO: < Money. >
He shakes the folder in her face.
ENDO: < There's no sob story... she didn't get rid of you so that she and your father could pay rent or eat for another day. She didn't even do it for something as selfish as paying off a gambling debt to save their skin. >
She snatches the folder from him, looking down at it. Seeing the photograph clipped to the front, her hands begin to shake... the first time she's laid eyes on her mother in nearly eleven years. The photo is recent... she's smiling, standing with a man, well-dressed... obviously connected.
She blinks, memories flood back... a fist tightens in her chest.
JUNKO: < Just like I remem -- >
He cuts her off abruptly... harshly.
ENDO: < Junko-chan, you meant nothing to her. >
There's pain in his eyes, almost as much as her own.
ENDO: < Like your father... you were an obstacle to her. >
She looks up at him, eyes watering, threatening to overflow. He shakes his head.
ENDO: < Nothing more. >
Junko bites her bottom lip... hard.
JUNKO: < I... want to hear her say it. >
ENDO: < If you go to her... you will. >
There's sadness in his tone.
ENDO: < I promise you. >
For a long moment, neither of them say a word. Looking down at the photograph once again, she shifts uneasily. The gravel rolls and pops beneath her sneakers. Endo, facing the water, cuts his eyes in her direction.
ENDO: < I imagine you... must be going now. >
She swallows, eyes set on her mother's smile.
JUNKO: < I should -- >
ENDO: < Go, then. >
She nods gently, clutches the folder tightly in both hands.
She bows her head.
JUNKO: < Thank you, Endo-san. >
His only response, a dissatisfied grunt.
She turns, begins to walk away.
Facing the water, still... he calls out to her.
ENDO: < Junko-chan, it's not too late to turn back. >
She stops in her tracks, looks over her shoulder... listens.
ENDO: < Some stones... they're better left unturned. >
JUNKO: < I've spent the last five years running from my past, Endo-san -- >
Though quiet, meek... her voice carries across the distance.
JUNKO: < -- I want to find out what happens when I don't. >
