Post by Yujiro Fujiwara on May 22, 2017 23:12:08 GMT -5
Having been around wrestling all his life, Yujiro Fujiwara had deciphered that he was unlike most of his peers. Upon visits to their houses, he normally spot posters and varies items of memorabilia plastered on the wall. Those who were fortunate enough to have made it to the “top of the mountain” had their old championships hanging up or resting on holders.
Yujiro’s wall was bare. There were no title belt holders on the mantel.
To find all of his “memories of wrestling’s past”, then you’d have to look inside a slightly beat up medium sized brown box, which was located deep in a far off corner of the Fujiwara basement. His wife, Tammy, had tried to get him to post up his old stuff, but to no avail.
He had always looked upon his early days of wrestling with a tainted view. His demeanor was poor back then. Often times he was arrogant and nasty. He didn’t wrestle for the love of the sport or because he truly enjoyed it; no, those early years were spent trying to escape the shadows of both his grandfather and father. Despite all the succeed he achieved back then, Yujio never truly felt himself. It was as if he was “playing a role,” the role he thought he needed to play to achieve that goal.
Him keeping those bits of memorabilia private were a way for him to remain humble. A way to remind himself not to get too big for his own britches.
All that being said, Yujiro was proud of the accomplishments he’d racked up. Regardless of how things were depicted in the realm of social media, it was a common fact that most would probably not even challenge for a world or heavyweight champion, much less actually capture one.
Yujiro was a two-time world champion.
Did he got about things the best way? Not at all. However, those two title reigns were not the result of petty attacks or backstage shenanigans. Even as a scumbag, he earned those belts on merit.
On that particular evening, Yujiro excused himself from training a bit early. His wife was still at work, tending to the needs of her soccer team. After arriving home, Yujiro descended down those steps and traversed to that far off right corner of the basement. He turned on a hanging light as he removed his particular box from a stack of others. He took a seat on the floor next to the box. And after staring at it for a few moments, he took off its lid.
The contexts of the box included: a couple of pairs of black and white trunks, a pair of worn kickpads, his old gym bag, and a half used of white athletic tape. The United Wrestling Alliance World Championship rested comfortably on top of everything.
Yujiro gingerly reached for the belt. He gently ran his hand across the nameplate, clearing it of all the dust and mites. After a moment of hand-polishing, the belt began to shine as it did back in its heyday.
“My my, aren’t you looking as lovely as ever.” He sat the belt in his lap as she stared down at it. He couldn’t keep his eyes of the gold faceplate. “I suppose I’m a bit distinguished, aren’t I? My first championship was not a tag team belt. It was not a U.S. or Intercontinental title. No—you were my first. Yes indeed.”
He went silent for a period of time.
“This is my last shot at the Redemption Heavyweight Championship—everyone knows it.”
He let out a small sigh. “I don’t simply want to win this match because it is against Matthew Shields. By now, everyone with an active brains should know the nature of his true character. And while he did cheat to defeat me at Ultimate Resolve, that is not the only reason why I want to win this match so badly.”
Yujiro cracked his knuckles lightly. “This match is about climbing that mountain once more. But this time, I want to win the right way—the honorable way.” He nodded his head.
“And of course, there is the fact that Redemption Wrestling deserves a champion that it can stake itself claim in, one that it can place its faith in. As an athlete, Matthew is quite skilled. But as a flagship of the company? No thank you.”
Once again, he let out a small sigh. He then placed the title back into the box and sat it back with the others.
“One last go around, hmm?”
How do you do. Perhaps this is the very first time that you are hearing my lovely voice. Well, allow me to give myself a proper introduction. My name is Yujiro Fujiwara.
However, if one must describe me in one word it would be fairly simple—I am a wrestler.
Wrestling, one of the world’s most violent arts. It is act of two combatants meeting the center of the ring, trying prove who is the better man or woman. That is what professional wrestling is all about, and that was instilled into me as I was training. Just about each and every student who trains to enter into the sport is taught those same principles, so some variant and degree.
However, our “royal” Redemption Heavyweight Champion has lost his way and forgotten those crucial principles.
Hmmm, you know, it’s interesting. Time and time again Mr. Shields has spoken about how he cut his teeth and grew as a wrestle in Japan. If you recall, that’s all we heard leading up to Ultimate Resolve. If that is the case, then he would have inevitably spent time picking the brains of varies veterans and elders. Only an utter fool would simply wrestle and not learn from the sports historians.
I wonder what those veterans would say if they saw him now. I wonder what is peers and previous opponent think when they gaze upon him now.
Hmm, food for thought perhaps.
And why am I allowed to speak to you in this manner? Who died and made Yujiro Fujiwara some patron saint?
Well, no one died. No one went and bestowed the honor of sainthood upon me.
However, the reason I’m able to speak to you in this manner is because I’ve lost my way once or twice before. I’m older than you, Matthew. So if you are as smart and intelligent as you claim to be, you’ll take the following as career and life enriching advice.
There is no grander sport in this world than professional wrestling. The action, the intensity—there’s nothing like it. This industry is so unique.
And while this sport is so wonderfully amazing, it has the tendency to change people. In this sport, it’s easy to forget who you are; it’s easy to lose yourself. And once you’ve fallen so far and been engulfed by the mire, it’s hard to pull yourself back up.
Mr. Shields, I do not know you well. I assume that you’ve probably had a shitty disposition for years. But at your core, you used to be a man who was hungry. At your core, you used to be a man who enjoyed the thrill of the fight. For a period of time, you used to be good for this company…
That time has passed.
You need to find yourself. You need to become the Matthew Shields of old, the one who joined this promotion You need to become the man that supposedly dominated in Japan…
Because if you don’t, you’ll never have any hope to defeat me at WrestleForce.
Mr. Shields, I’ve defeated you on two separate occasions now. Once during the Global Cup, and once more a few weeks ago. You may shout out to the heavens about how you were duped, how you were deceived or tricked. However, the fact of the matter is, you lost.
And the time you did defeat me? Ultimate Resolve? You needed help to do so. For once in your life, be a man. For once, be honest without yourself and admit that Yujiro Fujiwara is a better wrestler than you.
Time for another interesting tidbit. Matthew Shields weighs in at two hundred and thirty-five pounds. And me? I weigh in at one hundred and eighty-seven pounds. In most parts of the world, I wouldn’t even be considered a heavyweight.
And yet you’ve struggled time and time again to put me away, despite having a nearly fifty pound weight advantage. Hmm, isn’t that something?
Matthew, no matter how much you scream and shout, no matter how much you may lie to yourself, you are not the better wrestle. You have proven that, and I have proven that…
And it shall be proven once more at WrestleForce.
Mr. Shields, I’d implore you to do a bit of soul searching before June 4th. Dig way down deep into the confines of your mind. Maybe you’ll finally be able to find yourself. Perhaps you’ll come to your senses.
Although, I be completely honest, it likely won’t prevent what’s going to happen to you out there in that ring. I need to be you. I need to rescue that championship from your wicked clutches—it’s as simply as that.
However, if you do as I ask, at least you’ll be able to handle this loss with a shred of dignity.
Yujiro’s wall was bare. There were no title belt holders on the mantel.
To find all of his “memories of wrestling’s past”, then you’d have to look inside a slightly beat up medium sized brown box, which was located deep in a far off corner of the Fujiwara basement. His wife, Tammy, had tried to get him to post up his old stuff, but to no avail.
He had always looked upon his early days of wrestling with a tainted view. His demeanor was poor back then. Often times he was arrogant and nasty. He didn’t wrestle for the love of the sport or because he truly enjoyed it; no, those early years were spent trying to escape the shadows of both his grandfather and father. Despite all the succeed he achieved back then, Yujio never truly felt himself. It was as if he was “playing a role,” the role he thought he needed to play to achieve that goal.
Him keeping those bits of memorabilia private were a way for him to remain humble. A way to remind himself not to get too big for his own britches.
All that being said, Yujiro was proud of the accomplishments he’d racked up. Regardless of how things were depicted in the realm of social media, it was a common fact that most would probably not even challenge for a world or heavyweight champion, much less actually capture one.
Yujiro was a two-time world champion.
Did he got about things the best way? Not at all. However, those two title reigns were not the result of petty attacks or backstage shenanigans. Even as a scumbag, he earned those belts on merit.
On that particular evening, Yujiro excused himself from training a bit early. His wife was still at work, tending to the needs of her soccer team. After arriving home, Yujiro descended down those steps and traversed to that far off right corner of the basement. He turned on a hanging light as he removed his particular box from a stack of others. He took a seat on the floor next to the box. And after staring at it for a few moments, he took off its lid.
The contexts of the box included: a couple of pairs of black and white trunks, a pair of worn kickpads, his old gym bag, and a half used of white athletic tape. The United Wrestling Alliance World Championship rested comfortably on top of everything.
Yujiro gingerly reached for the belt. He gently ran his hand across the nameplate, clearing it of all the dust and mites. After a moment of hand-polishing, the belt began to shine as it did back in its heyday.
“My my, aren’t you looking as lovely as ever.” He sat the belt in his lap as she stared down at it. He couldn’t keep his eyes of the gold faceplate. “I suppose I’m a bit distinguished, aren’t I? My first championship was not a tag team belt. It was not a U.S. or Intercontinental title. No—you were my first. Yes indeed.”
He went silent for a period of time.
“This is my last shot at the Redemption Heavyweight Championship—everyone knows it.”
He let out a small sigh. “I don’t simply want to win this match because it is against Matthew Shields. By now, everyone with an active brains should know the nature of his true character. And while he did cheat to defeat me at Ultimate Resolve, that is not the only reason why I want to win this match so badly.”
Yujiro cracked his knuckles lightly. “This match is about climbing that mountain once more. But this time, I want to win the right way—the honorable way.” He nodded his head.
“And of course, there is the fact that Redemption Wrestling deserves a champion that it can stake itself claim in, one that it can place its faith in. As an athlete, Matthew is quite skilled. But as a flagship of the company? No thank you.”
Once again, he let out a small sigh. He then placed the title back into the box and sat it back with the others.
“One last go around, hmm?”
How do you do. Perhaps this is the very first time that you are hearing my lovely voice. Well, allow me to give myself a proper introduction. My name is Yujiro Fujiwara.
I am not a king…
I am not a peasant…
I am not a jester…
However, if one must describe me in one word it would be fairly simple—I am a wrestler.
Wrestling, one of the world’s most violent arts. It is act of two combatants meeting the center of the ring, trying prove who is the better man or woman. That is what professional wrestling is all about, and that was instilled into me as I was training. Just about each and every student who trains to enter into the sport is taught those same principles, so some variant and degree.
However, our “royal” Redemption Heavyweight Champion has lost his way and forgotten those crucial principles.
Hmmm, you know, it’s interesting. Time and time again Mr. Shields has spoken about how he cut his teeth and grew as a wrestle in Japan. If you recall, that’s all we heard leading up to Ultimate Resolve. If that is the case, then he would have inevitably spent time picking the brains of varies veterans and elders. Only an utter fool would simply wrestle and not learn from the sports historians.
I wonder what those veterans would say if they saw him now. I wonder what is peers and previous opponent think when they gaze upon him now.
Do they see him as a disgrace?
Do they see him as a facade?
Or, do they simply refuse to see him at all anymore?
Hmm, food for thought perhaps.
And why am I allowed to speak to you in this manner? Who died and made Yujiro Fujiwara some patron saint?
Well, no one died. No one went and bestowed the honor of sainthood upon me.
However, the reason I’m able to speak to you in this manner is because I’ve lost my way once or twice before. I’m older than you, Matthew. So if you are as smart and intelligent as you claim to be, you’ll take the following as career and life enriching advice.
There is no grander sport in this world than professional wrestling. The action, the intensity—there’s nothing like it. This industry is so unique.
And while this sport is so wonderfully amazing, it has the tendency to change people. In this sport, it’s easy to forget who you are; it’s easy to lose yourself. And once you’ve fallen so far and been engulfed by the mire, it’s hard to pull yourself back up.
Mr. Shields, I do not know you well. I assume that you’ve probably had a shitty disposition for years. But at your core, you used to be a man who was hungry. At your core, you used to be a man who enjoyed the thrill of the fight. For a period of time, you used to be good for this company…
That time has passed.
You need to find yourself. You need to become the Matthew Shields of old, the one who joined this promotion You need to become the man that supposedly dominated in Japan…
Because if you don’t, you’ll never have any hope to defeat me at WrestleForce.
Mr. Shields, I’ve defeated you on two separate occasions now. Once during the Global Cup, and once more a few weeks ago. You may shout out to the heavens about how you were duped, how you were deceived or tricked. However, the fact of the matter is, you lost.
And the time you did defeat me? Ultimate Resolve? You needed help to do so. For once in your life, be a man. For once, be honest without yourself and admit that Yujiro Fujiwara is a better wrestler than you.
Time for another interesting tidbit. Matthew Shields weighs in at two hundred and thirty-five pounds. And me? I weigh in at one hundred and eighty-seven pounds. In most parts of the world, I wouldn’t even be considered a heavyweight.
And yet you’ve struggled time and time again to put me away, despite having a nearly fifty pound weight advantage. Hmm, isn’t that something?
Matthew, no matter how much you scream and shout, no matter how much you may lie to yourself, you are not the better wrestle. You have proven that, and I have proven that…
And it shall be proven once more at WrestleForce.
Mr. Shields, I’d implore you to do a bit of soul searching before June 4th. Dig way down deep into the confines of your mind. Maybe you’ll finally be able to find yourself. Perhaps you’ll come to your senses.
Although, I be completely honest, it likely won’t prevent what’s going to happen to you out there in that ring. I need to be you. I need to rescue that championship from your wicked clutches—it’s as simply as that.
However, if you do as I ask, at least you’ll be able to handle this loss with a shred of dignity.
