Mr. Kuramato’s Hozu River Rifelery Range!!!!!

“I fucking hate this thing…” Connolly mumbled as he sat at a the counter in the gun shop. John was next to him, laughing. It wasnâ€t a huge place, but it wasnâ€t a smaller place either. It had quite a number of weapons out, but most of those were rental weapons to use for the day. It was harder to buy large weapons in Japan.

The main store room was maybe ten by ten meters, or about three hundred square feet. The counter was U shaped and was in the far back corner (though since the store was so open, it was within view of the front door). One door behind the counter led to the back room. Next to the counter, there was a double set of doors that led to the inside pistol range. It had a spinning rack of eye-pro and ear-pro next to the door, and massive signs in English and Japanese warning people not to go through the air-lock style doors without them. A door to the left of the counter led to the outdoor ranges.

Mr. Kuramatoâ€s Hozu River Rifelery Range was just outside Kyoto in the small suburb of Kameoka. It was a nice place. John, the tension champion, worked part time in the gun shop as a range master and instructor. He was thinking about quieting, since Tension was taking up so much time…but he did like the place.

Mr. Kuramato, an elderly Japanese man who was taking inventory by hand—as he had done every day for decades—laughed at Connolly's complaints. Connolly had a storeâ€s M1911 .45 ACP pistol on the counter. John had his own M1911, which looked a bit nicer, disassembled next to Connolly.

“You know, on the Sig and Berretta,I just hit one thing and everything comes apart.”
“This is better. Iâ€ve never had a Colt jam, canâ€t say the same for my Beretta. Besides I watched someone put three .9 mills in a guy and he still kept firing.”

The older Japanese man chuckled again. “Sig Sauer P226. Nine millimeter. Weaker than .45. John likes power.” John just laughed and said something in Japanese, which Connolly did not understand. The old man laughed back.

The other store clerk, who looked about Johnâ€s age but spoke with some sort of European accent, kept trying to work some sort of tool on the barrel bush of the Colt.

“The spring is held JUST by the tension?”

John nodded his head. “Yup. Look, just…twist it about 130 degrees. But remember, keep your thumb ON THE PLUNGER or the recoil spring will…”

As John explained that, Connolly quickly twisted the bushing wrench and the plunger that was on top of the recoil spring went FLYING across the store with a loud FWAAAAAAAAAAANG sound. It sailed RIGHT TOWARDS the front door…which was about to open.

It was a moderately warm day out, and a bit cloudier than Charlie liked. However, his friend Alaina had told him of a nice way to vent a bit of his recent frustrations promising that it'd be a blast. Unfortunately, she was busy moving a few of her things out of the apartment they had shared for a while after they both moved to Japan. Admittedly, once they lived together but were both dating things were a bit weird. Honestly, each one now having their own place worked best. Its not like they weren't still good friends and its not like they wouldn't ever see each other again. Right?

"All right....this is the place." Charlie said as he read the signs. Back home he used to target shoot a slight bit, but was far from a gun nut or marksman. However, with just him and L.C having the whole place to themselves he did feel a bit homesick as of late. This little trip would help for sure. All Charlie hoped for was that Alaina's internet pal from the AFW chat was halfway normal. Charlie took a deep breath and opened the door, right in time to get bonked in the head by a small flying object! "Whoa, shit!"

When Connoly saw what he did, he shrunk back behind the counter even further. “…oops, sorry.”

“Pride of the fucking CID, you are…SHIT!” John shouted as he saw a customer come in the door, just in time to get hit with the plunger from the recoil spring.

Mr. Kuramato gave a growling noise and turned to the new customer. “Irasshaimase…oh, gomennasai!” He said, welcoming and then immediately apologizing to the man in Japanese.

John, too, quickly came around from behind the counter. “Oh…oh Iâ€m sorry, Sir...it got away from my friend over there. Are you okay?” He said as he got closer. He was wearing dark green trousers and a black company tee shirt, which went nice with his bright red hair.

"Hey, no worries dude. I don't sweat the small stuff." Charlie said to the red-haired fellow who came to see if he was all right. "My friend Alaina said she talked to someone here about a target shooting range. I used to shoot once in a great while and figured I'd stop by." Charlie said as he looked around the place. It had a nice, convenient setup about it and the people seemed friendly enough, if accident-prone.

"I'm Charlie Haines, originally from San Diego." He said as he stuck his hand out for a shake.

“John Mitchell, NYC.” John said with a smile, giving the new customer a hand shake. He didnâ€t know Charlie Haines, so he didnâ€t realize he was shaking hands with another Tension wrestler.

<<“Maybe your friend should go home. This is a business.”>> The shop owner said to John, tersely, in Japanese. John nodded. “Miles, take a hike. Weâ€ll catch up at dinner.” He said with a chuckle.

The other man, a tall, thin man that seemed reasonably fit and had dark orange hair, gave a slopy salute with two fingers. “All right, I know when ta†take a hint.” He said with a chuckle. He wore a nice dark blue polo shirt and black trousers. “See you at eight?”

“Weâ€ll be there.” John said with a smile as the other man slipped out and around Charlie.

”Sorry…” he mumbled…

John just shook his head and picked up the component. “Sorry about that, Mr. Haines. Well, your friend was quite right. Weâ€ve got a pistol range over there and a rifle range out back. You looking to rent a weapon for the day or for instruction?”

"No problem man." Charlie said to the man exiting around him before turning his attention back to John.

"Just call me Charlie. Ya know... I am not really entirely sure. A friend of mine said she chatted up someone on a work website who worked here. I used to target shoot back home once in a while, and I sorta miss the ol' home a little bit." Charlie said with a shrug. "John Mitchell... dude, aren't you the Tension champ?"

Charlie figured this guy was financially set, so he must be here for fun or something. Hell after a couple matches and good cash flow Charlie was living comfortably on one income now.

John smiled, about to get back behind the counter. He got about a meter away from it when Charlie said Tension champ. He blushed a bit, and the oldr Japanee man laughed again.

“Ohhhh, big celebrity.” He laughed in English. “<<We could sponsor you! You can advertise for us on your wrestling show.>>” He teased John in Japanese.

John just chuckled. “Oh, come of it.” He said, slipping back behind the counter. He quickly began to reassemble his own personal M1911, sliding the barrel back in and rather quickly putting it all back together.

“Yeah, Iâ€m the Tension Champ. I guess your friend found me on the AFW chat? Donâ€t suppose you work at AFW too?” It made sense if he did, since most of AFW seemed to be foreigners anyway. “Oh! Do you know what kidna weapon you want to rent today?”

"Yeah, I am over in Tension. I've only had two matches so far though." Charlie said with a shrug. "My friend is Alaina Sanders over in Friction. She's had a few matches now...." Charlie added without bringing up her rough start. For whatever reason John didn't seem like a stereotypical "look at me!" champ at all. He struck Charlie was grounded, especially by the strange standards of AFW.

"I've never used anything other than a shotgun or bolt action rifle before. I guess I'd say bolt action rifle." Charlie said. It wasn't until now that the smells of the gunshop really hit him. Gunpowder seemed to have a way of jogging his memory, and he recalled target shooting with two of his friends back home years ago much more vividly.