Chapter 281: I Can't Help You With That
As expected, a pro-wrestling practice had to conclude with a signature
pro-wrestling move!
The Powerbomb.
It required hoisting the opponent high into the air and slamming them down so
they impacted the canvas flat on their back. It was a technique that relied
heavily on the user's raw physical torque.
In terms of pure weight, Ren Shiroki at 101kg was technically outclassed by Jose
Kanzaki at 115kg, but in the world of wrestling, that gap was negligible.
Combined with a low-center-of-gravity Drive Rush, Ren had successfully executed
the move, leaving Jose in a momentary daze, sprawled out in the center of the
ring.
"Practice complete!" Kugo Kurachi announced in a booming voice.
Ren drove his palms into the mat and leaped to his feet. He hoisted a tightened
right fist toward the ceiling, acknowledging the crowd.
Whether they were SJPW wrestlers or MPD Judo officers, the spectators erupted
into cheers. They felt exhilarated and satisfied. In the world of Pro-Wrestling,
the quality of a battle isn't decided solely by combat power, but by the "Heat"
generated between the performers!
"Phew...!"
Ren stepped down from the ring. Blood was smeared across his face, and he was
drenched in sweat. But as he looked up to see Fusui Kure and Sonoda coming to
meet him, he couldn't stop himself from grinning.
When Fusui handed him a towel and a bottle of water, murmuring, "That was a
beautiful sequence, Ren-chin," his smile widened even further.
After some post-match stretches and a few minutes of rest, Ren headed to the
gymnasium's industrial showers.
Ssssshhhhh—
The showerhead hissed, releasing a stream of warm water. Ren stood beneath the
spray, his bare feet anchored to the tiles and his hands braced against the
wall. He let the water wash over him, feeling a sense of total, refreshing
liberation.
The blood and sweat were rinsed away. The rising steam made the small stall feel
hazy and secluded—the perfect place for a warrior to brood over the "Logic of
Combat."
When did this start? he wondered.
It wasn't just during life-or-death struggles with "Monsters." Even against
weaker opponents, or during a simple afternoon drill, he couldn't stop himself
from searching for the answer to "What is Strength?"
Encountering different legends on his journey... feeling the distinct "Vibe" of
their power...
It's just too much fun!
Ren splashed his face with water and rinsed his mouth, feeling rejuvenated.
Through the ventilation slats, he could hear the growing clamor of the village
outside. The streets were getting louder as the festival drew nearer.
In his mind, the ink-wash lines began to swirl. The vibrant phantom of Dee Jay
appeared.
[Bottom line, Buddy: the only things you need to bring to a beach or a festival
are your body, your soul, and your music! Toss all those heavy worries into the
trash and just MOVE!]
[Whether it's the beat of a track or the beatdown of a fight... it's all No
Problem!]
[From today on, you're officially my disciple! Don't stand on ceremony with me.
If you've got a question, just ask!]
[Teaching you moves costs me nothing, and seeing you use them gives me a hell of
a high! Heh-heh!]
Listening to the phantom's boisterous encouragement, Ren couldn't help but
laugh. He had found a Master who was sunny, passionate, and possessed a logic as
wide as the ocean.
Ren looked at his palms. The techniques he had mastered were the gifts of his
Senseis. But how he chose to weave them together? That was Ren Shiroki's own
specific "Combat."
The more he thought about it, the more excited he became. He was impatient to
finish his shower so he could go back out and talk shop with the legends on the
mats.
But as he reached out, he realized the shampoo dispenser was empty.
Should I just rinse with water? No... my hair feels like a grease trap after
that workout. That's going to be annoying...
Just as the thought crossed his mind, a girl's hand reached around the corner of
the stall, offering a fresh bottle of shampoo.
Ren, still half-adrift in his tactical thoughts, habitually accepted it. As he
began scrubbing his head into a mountain of foam, he suddenly realized he hadn't
brought a towel into the stall either.
The hand reappeared, holding a clean, dry towel.
Ren Shiroki: "...?"
Sensing his disciple's sudden realization of his surroundings, the phantom of
Dee Jay began to fade with a mischievous wink.
[Yo, Buddy! If you hit a wall, you know where to find me! That's a promise!]
[Though... looking at your current situation... I don't think even I can help
you with that one! Ahahaha—!]
Ren: "..."
Fine. I'll just pretend I didn't notice.
Ren finished his shower and changed into a fresh set of clothes.
Fusui Kure was already waiting for him by the door. She tossed him another dry
towel, which Ren used to dry his ears and hair.
"Phew. Much better!"
He and the girl returned to the ring area, where the group was lounging and
chatting. Jose Kanzaki had recovered by now. He had removed his mask to clean
the blood from his face, and his bruises were already patched with medical tape.
Seeing Ren approach, Jose set aside his water bottle and hopped off the apron to
face him.
Suddenly—Zip!
Jose threw a light punch, tapping Ren on the chest. "You're a beast, Shiroki. I
concede!"
Ren looked slightly bashful. "It was just practice, Jose-kun."
"A loss is a loss!" Jose replied firmly. "If it had been a real fight, I'd be in
a coffin right now. I won't deny reality."
"But that's the thing about a Pro-Wrestler. No matter how many times we get
floored, as long as the heart is beating, we stand up for the encore."
"—That's the script I've written for myself. I'll see you in the ring again!"
Jose tightened his fist and bumped it against Ren's. Ren could feel the literal
heat and passion radiating from the wrestler's hand. He murmured in admiration,
"You're strong, Jose..."
He wasn't just talking about the man's muscles; he was talking about the spirit
of Pro-Wrestling itself.
However, as the "Spartan" veteran and senior of the squad, Kugo Kurachi had a
different evaluation.
"Humility is fine, Jose, but let's be real—you got slaughtered!"
Kurachi crossed his arms with a mocking grin. "I heard you've been moonlighting
in the underground? Some place called 'Purgatory'? I hope you haven't been
slacking on your conditioning just to chase a paycheck."
"No way, Senior! You can see for yourself—even in a pure grappling trade, I
couldn't touch him!" Jose protested loudly.
As a pro-wrestler in the surface world, fighting in the underground was
technically a breach of contract and bad for the brand. But thanks to Kurachi's
open-mindedness, the SJPW looked the other way.
Purgatory was a rising underground combat organization that prioritized
high-octane entertainment and massive prize purses. Compared to the
tradition-heavy Kengan Association, Purgatory focused on the "Show," earning
them a massive following and a rapidly expanding roster.
"By the way, Shiroki-san," Jose said, his fist still clenched. "You know Jun
Sekibayashi, right?"
"I'm training to surpass 'The Hell's Angel.' That's why I went to the
underground."
"Purgatory is a trip. The rules are entirely different from the Kengan matches.
You should stop by sometime!"
"I hear some of their top guys are actually getting interested in the Kengan
Annihilation Street Brawl too—"
"..."
Ren nodded. He didn't refuse the invite. But based on the rumors, Purgatory had
a lot of restrictive rules regarding ring-outs and KOs, which felt worlds apart
from the "Nothing is Taboo" philosophy of the Tokyo Dome.
To me, a no-holds-barred war is still the most interesting track!
Kurachi handed Ren a bottle of water. "Jose, stop trying to recruit customers
for other organizations! It's a bad look."
Jose pouted, whispering, "Senior, didn't you used to do street fights back in
the day?"
Kurachi put his hands on his hips. "Shut up! You're talking back to a superior?
That's 'Downwards Contempt'! 1,000 squats, now!"
The two wrestlers began to bicker and play-fight, drawing a roar of laughter
from the group.
Evening.
Ren, Fusui, Shibukawa, and Sonoda prepared to depart for the Kure Main Estate
for dinner. At the exit, Kurachi Kugo remembered what Mitsuyo Kureishi had told
him about Ren's hobby. He pulled out a sleek, professional "Pro-Wrestling"
business card and handed it to Ren.
Then, he pulled out four generic VIP season passes.
"If you ever want to see us perform, just show these at any gate. No matter how
sold-out the show is, SJPW will find you a seat. Lifetime use."
Ren accepted the gift with a respectful nod.
As they reached the gymnasium's main doors, they brushed past a "hulking
mountain of a man" carrying massive bags of groceries in each hand. The auras of
the masters collided for a brief heartbeat.
"Oho!"
Shibukawa laughed boisterously. "Pro-Wrestling really is full of interesting
characters!"
Ren Shiroki kept his hands in his pockets, his head tilted back with a grin.
"The Summer Festival is just getting started. I have a feeling we'll be seeing
them again. It's perfect!"
The man with the dreadlocks, standing nearly two meters tall, carried his haul
into the gym. He set the heavy bags down and couldn't help but look back at the
doorway, recalling the group that had just passed—specifically the old man and
the youth.
Kurachi smiled. "Sekibayashi, aren't you going to go say hi?"
The "Hell's Angel," Jun Sekibayashi, let his lips curl into a wide, theatrical
grin.
"I'll have plenty of time for that later. The festival hasn't even officially
started! The main event is still to come!"
"Even for a 'Street Brawl'... the more spectators watching the finish, the
better—!"
(End of Chapter)
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