The other day, during a training session with some of the newer students, Red Dragon had made a mistake in the ring. It was a minor misstep, but it had been enough to draw some snickers and chuckles from the younger wrestlers. As he had left the ring, he had overheard them talking amongst themselves about how cool it would have been to see him in his prime.
Those words had stuck with him, and as he stood there in the empty facility, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret. What if he had stayed in the game just a little longer? What if he had pushed himself harder, trained longer, and continued to perform at the highest level? Would he still be in his prime today? He remembered the countless times he had received invites. From New Japan Pro Wrestling were he competed as a Young Lion, trained by the Great Muta. Even from the HWA after he left a second time.
Red Dragon shook his head, trying to dispel the negative thoughts. He knew he had made the right decision to retire when he did. His body couldn't take the punishment anymore and the feeling of accomplishment from what he had achieved with many of the students that had entered the days of Academy over the years more than made up for any titles he could have won.
But still, the words of the younger wrestlers lingered in his mind. He wanted to show them that he still had it, that he was still the Red Dragon they had heard so much about. With a sudden burst of energy, he climbed up onto the top rope of the nearest ring and launched himself into a perfect moonsault, landing smoothly on his feet. He smiled after sticking the landing.
(Red Dragon): Prime… I’m still in my prime….
He sized up the ropes with his hands, testing their durability. Running his hands along the rubber hose material that ensconced the steel cable underneath. He pulled on them and let them spring back. He squatted done, limbering up, pulling both legs back separately to touch his glutes. He did a couple of tuck jumps and calf stretches, cricking his neck from side to side.
Red Dragon took a deep breath before shooting off the ropes, his training shoes bouncing off the springy canvas. He runs the ropes several times, his momentum picking up as he did so. He commando rolled as if avoiding a move from an opponent. He stood up, extending his arms out to the side and threw himself onto his back, taking a bump to the mat, bringing his arms into his chest and instantly kipped back with ease.
He looked to the outside of the ring, where there were soft cushioned mats placed around the perimeter. He ran at the ropes a couple of times, building up some speed before he launched himself on to the top rope, springboading himself up and he executed a perfect shooting star press again landing perfectly on his feet.
He approached the Bob training dummy next to him and ran towards it, spinning through the air and he yelled out with force, landing “Becoming the Dragon” (A 360 jumping spinning roundhouse kick to the jaw of an opponent, knocking them out instantly). He laid into Bob with numerous strikes with both his hands and feet, defying his age, cutting through the air like a knife through butter. He swiftly repositioned himself behind Bob, grabbing the dummy by the waist and lifted him over his head, into a perfect bridging German suplex. He stopped, the sweat beginning to drop down his face and temples.
For a moment, Red Dragon stood there, catching his breath and feeling the rush of adrenaline. A small semblance of a smile tucked at the corner of the wise Sensei’s mouth before he headed for the locker room. He grabbed his cell phone from his gym back and dialled a number. After a moment, a familiar voice answered.
(Red Dragon): Kon'nichiwa, Butch-San. I didn’t wake you did I? …..ah, good….listen, can we talk? It’s not the type of thing to talk about over the phone, is it too late to come over?
Two hours later….
Red Dragon had pulled up in his car outside the Parker household in Santa Barbara. He didn’t even get a chance to knock when the door opened. Butch was standing in the doorway wearing a pair of tracksuit bottoms, a figure-hugging vest top and a black and purple-coloured can of Strongbow Dark Fruit gripped in one of his hands.
(Red Dragon): You know, just because you have muscles in places most people didn’t know they even had, doesn’t mean you to have to remind everyone.
Butch briefly looked down at himself before looking up back at Red Dragon with a smile.
(Butch): You coming in or not, Wise Ass?
Red Dragon reciprocated the smile as he followed Butch into the house.
(Butch): So, what’s so important you had to drive all the way over from Santa Monica for a conversation that couldn’t either wait till tomorrow or that you couldn’t send in a text?
(Red Dragon): I want a retirement match.
As Butch took a drink from his can of cider, he sprayed half the contents out his nose. He coughed as he wiped his nose and mouth with the back of his hand.
(Butch): That’s funny, I could’ve sworn you said you wanted a retirement match…
Red Dragon followed Butch as he made his way into the den.
(Red Dragon): I’m serious, Butch-san, I want a retirement match.
(Butch): Matthew, you’re not an in-ring competitor anymore, you retired like what? 15 years ago?
(Red Dragon): Not out of necessity! Not because of injury, or age. I fell out of love with the sport, Butch-san. I poured every ounce of energy into the Training Academy, MY Training Academy. It may be your name on the deeds, my friend, but it’s me that has spent practically every working hour of the last near 10 years teaching classes, showing kids how to take bumps, how to do an arm drag, how to do a suplex, how to survive as a professional wrestler.
(Butch): What’s brought this on so suddenly, Matthew? Did someone say something? Is it Maniac and Matt? You’re somehow feeling guilty that you want to get back in the ring?
(Red Dragon): No, it’s got nothing to do with Matt-Kun, this is about me, Butch-San. I want to show everyone that I still have what it takes, roll back the years and show some of these kids what they can aspire to be like. Look what’s happening, Butch-San. Deas, Fallen, Legion, the Blazes, Draconis, Maniac. All these big names, these so-called veterans that have came back have done nothing but shit all over what our kids worked so hard to keep alive and have shown them not an ounce of respect. Maybe it’s high time they were shown how a proper veteran respects our sport. You know, I may not have won World Championships, Butch-San, I may not have had five-star classic after five-star classic year after year. But I have my blood, my sweat, my tears, my health for professional wrestling, for this company, the same company you sold me on. Do I not at least deserve the respect to decide when I want to go out? Instead of fading away quietly into the background and just become part of the furniture?
Butch hadn’t moved or changed his facial expression the whole time Red Dragon was speaking. He took another drink from his can of cider. Eventually he broke the silence.
(Butch): Are you done? Look, Matthew, you’re not just part of the furniture. I don’t care how many titles you did or didn’t win, I care about what you’ve given to me, to my family, to this business.
(Red Dragon): I need this, Butch-San. Please. Watashi ni wa kore ga hitsuyou desu. Amari ooku o motomete imasen. Ippon no matchi dake o onegaishimasu. Kuroojaa no tame ni. Watashi ni tangan sasenaide kudasai!
(Butch): Mashū, yū wa watashi no mottomo furui tomodachi no ichinin desu. Anata ga watashi no kazoku ni shita koto wa, watashi ga kōreika suru koto ga dekizu ni iru mono yori mo ōi desu. Sore ga anata ni to totte sō taisetsu naraba, hai, anata no matchi o kyoka shimasu….you can have your match.
The two old friends embraced in a hug.
(Red Dragon): Thank you, Butch-San.
(Butch): Do you have a particular opponent in mind?
(Red Dragon): Three come to mind…
(Butch): How do you want to decide?
(Red Dragon): I think I have an idea…
They talked for another five, ten minutes or so before Red Dragon took his leave. He said his goodbyes to Butch and went on his way. As the door shut behind him, he leaned his weight on it, the back of his head resting against it.
(Red Dragon): I hope you know what you’re, old man.
On the inside of the door, Butch drained the last of his cider as he made his way upstairs. As he made his way towards the bedroom, Wisdom stepped out, wearing a silk robe, her hair tied up in a towel, indicative of her just having gotten out of the shower.
(Wisdom): Was that Matthew’s voice I heard?
(Butch): Yeah.
(Wisdom): What did he want? Come to apologise?
(Butch): Not exactly.
Butch began to fill Wisdom in on the context of Red Dragon’s visit and their subsequent conversation as the scene faded to black.
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