A Trip Down Memory Lane

Spoiler:

“Seven…. Eight….”

Grunting the word through grit teeth as she pushed the bar high over her chest, Kishima finished another rep on the bench press. The violet haired Angel was sweating all over as she neared the end of what had been a rather intense workout session. It had all started with running the ropes for a while as a warmup, and went straight into the heavy lifting after that. Squats, pull-ups, power cleans, deadlifts, dumbbell curls, and now the bench press to wrap it all up.

Her yellow t-shirt was drenched, and so was the spot on the bench where her head was resting. But this was nothing new to her. For Kishima it was just another average workout, and something she even enjoyed. But she had to there was something quite different about working out here than her workouts as a Wrestle Angel, and it didn’t take a genius to see what the difference was.

“Come on, Kishima! Just two more!” encouraged Kaitlyn, a cute, fit young blonde who worked at the gym and helped some of the wrestlers out when they needed it. That kind of job must’ve taken some guts to sign up for. But, while she was a perfectly serviceable spotter for an exercise like this, it wasn’t the same as having one of her fellow Angels there with her. And as she looked up at the girl’s face while straining to shove the bar back up, Kishima found herself picturing her as some of those old, familiar faces. It was starting to get distracting.

“Nine…..” Kishima grunted, bringing the bar down to her chest and starting to push up once more.

“That’s it! You’re almost there!” Kaitlyn shouted enthusiastically, while Kishima growled and pushed with all her might until finally the bar went up, and she set it down on the rack.

“Phew!” she said, letting her tired arms fall down beside her, and taking a few moments to catch her breath before she sat up, grabbed her towel and started wiping some of the sweat off her.

“Woo! Nice work!” Kaitlyn said, offering a high five, which Kishima halfheartedly accepted with a small chuckle. “Heh, thanks… I think that’s gonna wrap things up for me today.”

“Cool! Just remember to wipe down the bench before you go, and I’ll see you around!” the blonde said, then went on her way. Kishima waved a wordless “see ya” with her hand, then wiped up the sweat from the bench. But then she looked up at the bar again. Her whole body was tired, and her arms in particular were strongly aching. But she wondered, would it be easier to do this without someone like Kaitlyn there?

“Well… Guess one more quick set wouldn’t hurt…” she said aloud to herself, then moved back to lay down on the bench underneath the bar. Her hands reached up to grab it tightly, she paused a moment to take a deep breath, then pushed it off the rack and brought it down slowly. Once it touched her chest she pushed it back up.

“One…”

Down, then up again. She repeated the process again and again, noticing the strain and effort required to lift the bar predictably increasing with each rep. But after the seventh, her arms were starting to shake, and she was finding it considerably difficult to push it back up. It was starting to look like she might’ve bitten off more than she could chew.

“E-eight!!” she grunted once her arms finally pushed it up. It probably would’ve been smart to stop there, but Kishima was stubborn. She was going to finish this set no matter what it took. A small part of her was starting to wish Kaitlyn was still around right now, just in case something went wrong. But as far as she was concerned she’d gone too far to stop now...

Spoiler:

*...This is so friggin stupid. Been standing outside here like a deer in headlights for ten minutes now, and if one more goddamn person asks me if I'm lost...*

Internally grumbling to herself and locked into a heated staring contest with the dual doors a few feet ahead of her, Kyouko Uehara was presented with perhaps the greatest hurdle since returning to Japan and rekindling her long dormant wrestling career in her homeland. Saying goodbye to all her friends back in Mexico. Scrounging the cash for the move. Finding a place to hunker down and spending a week filling it with furniture and junk. Reconnecting with her sports agent and having him go through all the legalistic mumbo jumbo with the AFW execs to make this all possible.

She was so gung-ho for getting back into this business and picking up where her career tragically left off. And yet here she was. All of her neglected doubt over the past few months finally rearing it's ugly head and freezing her solid at the finish line. The dual doors before her seeming more like an impregnable barrier, now preventing her from re-entering a world that had left her behind ages ago.

The hallway was quiet, but the raging maelstrom of internal conflict was mounting with every second. Grumbling and frowning as she averted her gaze to the floor, she wondered if she had any right to be weaseling her way back into the game in the first place. It's not like people were clamoring for her to make a comeback. Would anyone even remember an obscure veteran like her? Is she tainting her honor by doing all of this?

*Maybe...maybe this was a bad idea...I should...I should just go hom-*

*clunk*

The jarring sound of the opening doors jostled Blade from her stupor. Now perking up and reflexively holding the door open for the young blonde who pushed it open, Blade offered her a smile and a nod from hearing the brief word of thanks. Blade sighed deeply once she was out of sight. She made opening these doors look so easy...showoff.

Though once Blade turned her head to peek inside and feast her eyes on all that new equipment beautifully sparkling in the fluorescent light~...Practically calling her name~...Blade's eyes lit up like Christmas lights as she ran inside with a joyful smile and all her worries washed away as if there was nothing holding her back in the first place.

Taking it all in like a kid in a candy store as she speed-walked through the facility, Blade couldn't help but be drawn to the familiar grunts and groans of a voice she hadn't heard in years. Blade's eyes widening in restrained jubilation when she recognized the power-lifting lunkhead herself. Blade now stealthily approaching her struggling muscle-bound cohort from behind until she poked her head up above her while she was on the benchpress.

"Aww, what's this crap? This place must be really scrapping the bottom of the barrel if they're hiring a buncha Wrestle Angel rejects like you!! Lookitya, can't even lift a measly two hundred pounder, ya light-weight!!" Blade cheerily and sarcastically critiqued with all the love in the world, now appearing upside down to Bomber as she gripped the barbell as Bomber's apparently sorely needed spotter.

Kishima wasn’t really one who believed in the supernatural - well, except when it came to baseball and her beloved Giants. She had plenty of superstitious gameday traditions that never had a genuine impact on a game, though you’d never be able to convince her of that. But otherwise, any notions of spirits, demons, ghosts or so on were completely farfetched in her eyes.

But when that familiar voice reached her ears and that familiar face appeared above her, for a moment Kishima could’ve sworn she was looking at a ghost! Of course she knew Blade Uehara had never died. But it had been so long since either had seen or heard from the other that suddenly seeing her former tag partner like this was surreal, though that itself was quite an understatement.

“W-what the-- Kyou?!” Kishima exclaimed in utter shock, practically forgetting about the heavy bar she was holding over her chest! Fortunately she got her mind on track again quickly enough. And with a little help from her spotter, the Bomber grunted and shoved the bar back up before setting it down on the rack, then breathed a huge sigh while letting her arms slump down. Only after taking a few big breaths was she finally able to sit back up and smile at her fellow ex-Angel.

“Heh...heh… I see you still have a knack for saving my ass at the last possible second…” she said with a hefty chuckle, then pushed off the bench to stand back up, with arms outstretched and ready to embrace Blade in a friendly hug. Assuming she didn’t mind the fact that Kishima was drenched in sweat. “God, it’s been way too long! How’ve you been? And what the hell are ya doing here?!” she asked excitedly.

Coming back to the Japanese wrestling scene after years of traveling abroad meant returning to a world that was simultaneously both unnervingly foreign and hauntingly nostalgic. Like taking a tour of your grade-school after decades of trials and tribulations had turned you into a hardened and jaded adult. The thrill of seeing all of that shiny new equipment in use helped pull Blade back into that world, but nothing could quite beat a familiar face smiling back at you to make you feel at home again. And luckily for her, that's exactly what she stumbled across after stealthily approaching Bomber from behind while she was getting work done on the bench press.

"W-whoa, easy there man..." Blade groaned out with a wincing smile after having to hold up more of the barbell's weight than she anticipated, her straining biceps helping Bomber rack the set after the shock of seeing a ghost from her past wore off. In the future, Blade was going to have to remember not to surprise Bomber while she doing her reps again...even if it was kinda worth it just to see that priceless look on her face. Blade breathing a sigh of relief herself after getting the weights racked before walking over to stand in front of Bomber with her arms folded while she caught her own breath.

"Well, someone has to watch your back, ya big galoot. I told ya that ya can't let all those muscles go to your head." Blade warmly admonished in one of her first bits of advice she had ever given her former tag partner. That chipper smile of hers became decidedly more fearful when she saw Bomber coming in for a big old bearhug, a half-step back with her arms partially raised in front of her not stopping the burly W.A. from wrapping her up in the sweaty embrace and putting the affectionate, but still muscled pressure on.

"Heh, alright, alright, one question at a time!! I really missed you too, man...nngh...But do ya mind putting me down before ya me put me back on the bench with a tweaked spine?" Blade cheerfully reciprocated with a strained voice, a wincing grin, and a hug that had nowhere near as much crushing squeeze to it. Bomber perhaps not realizing that she had Blade's tip toes faintly touching the floor by this point...

Simple as that bit of advice was, it was advice that had served her well for years...when she chose to listen to it, at least. Kishima was reckless and fearless, and sometimes that meant she unwisely took on certain challenges without giving them enough prior thought. Like, challenging Migiri to a match only a week after the giant had assaulted and nearly broken in the ring following her AFW debut. Or like doing an extra set on the bench press with more weight than necessary despite not having a spotter. But there were times when Kishima had chosen patience and thoughtfulness over impulsive action. And more often than not it had served her rather well.

For all Blade’s wisdom, though, it didn’t save her from Kishima’s mighty embrace! Her powerful arms wrapped around her friend and squeezed. Sometimes the Bomber didn’t know her own strength, and it wasn’t until she heard Blade’s strained voice asking her to put her down that she realized just how hard she was hugging the girl. Quickly she let go of the hug and set Blade back on her feet, chuckling and scratching her head.

“Heh… Sorry about that,” she said, giving Blade a firm pat on the shoulder. Not hard enough to hurt - she made sure of that this time. But now that her old friend was in a better position to speak, Kishima was more than ready to learn about what she’d been up to. “So what’s been going on with ya? I don’t suppose you’re here because you finally decided to get back in the ring, huh?” Actually, that’s exactly what she supposed. And she hoped to god she was right too. A lot of people had left the Angels on some sort of bad terms when the promotion closed its doors. But many the shit that had been pulled on Blade was right up there with the worst of it, and rightfully so. Ever since she’d been run out of the league by Beauty Ichigawa, Kishima had always hoped her old partner would find her way into a ring again. If that was indeed what was going on, she couldn’t be more thrilled about it.

"...*phew*...Man, never in a million years did I think I'd actually miss those hugs of yours...ngh..." Blade wearily said while placing both hands on her lower back. She stretched and leaned back while thrusting out her hips to help straighten her spine out. Despite the burning pain in her back, Blade still felt the love behind it all, as sweaty and overbearing as it was. So she couldn't even be all that upset over this. But damned was she relieved when Bomber finally put her back down. Once she heard the telltale light pop in her spine and the deed was done, she stood back at attention before her former tag partner.

"Psh...Like I was gonna let a little thing like a "contractual obligation" keep me from knocking some heads around." Blade raised her hands to add some air quotes as she spoke. "There were ways to wrestle abroad that got around little miss fancy pants' stipulation. Pretty freaking clever ways too, if I do say so myself, so I'm more than warmed up and ready to start educating these fools on wrestling 101." Blade propped her fists on her slim waist as she proudly hinted at her secret wrestling career as the masked luchador Em Sando. Her clever plan not amounting to much more than just putting on a mask...

"But ya know, I dabbled here and there. Ended up spearheading my very own federation, the Pacific Ocean Women's Pro Wrestling!! Yeah, it was an indie fed that operated mostly out of Mexico City. I was the head V.P. of Talent Relations or something like that...We had a few really good years going, but the wrestling scene down there...man, it was cutthroat as fuck. I put everything I could into keeping the lights on...but in the end, our talent was getting poached, we weren't drawing numbers like we used to...and uh, we we're just...bleeding money towards the end there. Ended up taking the first buyout offer we got..." Blade's enthusiasm for her story petered off as it's dreary conclusion loomed over the horizon. She started scanning the floor as opposed to looking in Kishima's eyes at that point before she perked back up and tried to salvage the conversation.

"B-But hey, enough bout that!! Whatchu been up to since you didn't have me around to keep you out of trouble?! Heard you got lucky and scored yourself a certain fluke win over Yukiko~..." Blade snidely remarked with a rekindled spirited, clearly alluding to her former tag partner's championship win.

Despite her obvious love for the sport, once she had broken into wrestling Kishima had hardly ever paid any attention to what was going on with outside promotions. That was largely because she had significantly less time to keep track of it all then, but even still most of her colleagues had always seemed to be able to keep up with them much better than she had. She hadn’t even heard of AFW until shortly after they had first introduced the world to hentai wrestling, a concept Kishima had laughed at and thought would end up getting AFW shut down in a heartbeat. Well, time had since quite clearly proven her wrong…

But had she been more diligent with following wrestlers outside of the Angels, she probably would’ve noticed Em Sando sooner or later. And she probably would’ve been able to tell who was under that too. But as it was, Blade’s “secret identity” was not in jeopardy. At least, not with Kishima. Nonetheless, she listened intently as Blade brought her up to speed on everything that she’d been up to since she was forced to depart from Wrestle Angels, which had her smiling until the story took a turn for the worst. Blade had escaped having to deal with the less than pleasant final stand of the Angels before they closed their doors, only to experience it with a different promotion, one she had worked hard to build up on her own. Kishima could only imagine how hard that must have hurt.

Fortunately Blade brought the mood back up again when she asked about the Bomber’s big title win over Yukiko, bringing a big grin to Kishima’s face. “PFFT! Fluke, my ass! I gave her the most vicious lariat she’s ever seen, and she wasn’t getting up after that,” she replied proudly, then flexed her right bicep just for good measure. “Man, I wish you’d been there to see it. That was the craziest match I’ve ever had. And finally winning the title was just...surreal.” But much like Blade’s story, this one didn’t exactly have a happy ending. And the proud smile on Kishima’s face started to gradually subside.

“I felt like all the hard work up to that point had finally paid off. Thought I was ready to show the world I could be just as good a champion as Yukiko had been… Then the president called the next day. Said I had to defend the title against Chris Morgan that night. She was fresh, and I was so fucked up it was miracle I was even able to get out of bed and put my own clothes on…” She wasn’t sure if Blade had seen the match that night, but Kishima knew she didn’t have to get into the details for the outcome to be clear. “That put me on the shelf for a while, and I never was able to get anywhere near that belt again…”

Finally realizing she was likely endangering the mood of what should’ve been a much more joyous occasion, Kishima quickly shifted things in a different direction. “But that’s all in the past now. A lot’s happened since then. Chris and I actually talked and made up recently. Risako didn’t seem too happy about that. Still, feels pretty good to have that hatchet burried, ya know?”

Blade certainly didn't intend to go off on that little tangent about her failed wrestling promotion. She chalked up that depressing segue to her being kind of a blabber mouth. Ever since she was a teenager she had been diagnosed with a chronic case of to having foot-in-mouth disease. It's not that she had any regrets about putting her all into Pacific Ocean Wrestling, or P.O.W., as it was advertised. In fact, it was just what she needed at the time to help her cope with losing to Ichigaya and keep her in the wrestling business since donning tights and jumping in the ring was becoming harder and harder to do...but she would be lying if she said that seeing it all go under didn't hit her hard.

Luckily, she was able to steer the conversation back to what she really wanted to hear about...and that was all the juicy details about how it felt to win championship gold. Blade's eyes sparkled just from hearing Bomber's nostalgic retelling of what it felt like to be on top of the mountain. Even if Bomber got screwed out of it the next day, Blade knew that she'll forever be introduced as a former Wrestle Angels Champion...plus...it was twenty-four hours that Blade would never get to experience. As proud as fuck as she was for her brawny buddy...she just wished she could have held that title...just once.

"UGGH...why'd you have to remind me that Risako is here toooooo?" Blade despondently groaned out while slumping her shoulders and teetering forward until she was childishly propping herself up against the burly Bomber with the top of her head pressing against her chest. "...you KNOW I'm gonna have ta eventually hash things with her, right? Last time we spoke we had this big friggin blowout and I almost decked her cause she was just...pissin me off. Nothin I said was gettin her out of that slump ever since she accidentally put Dragon Fujiko on the shelf and pretty much ended her career. I just...didn't know what to say. I suck at that type of stuff. Some partner I was. Than I hear she's actually losing to that airhead Suzumi Ishikawa and flippin out over it and...UGGH...I feel like I let her down, ya know?" Blade took a deep breath straightened herself back up, a slight smile on her face. It felt kinda good letting that all out.

"...*sigh*...Guess I got my own hatchets to bury around here...just not with Ichigaya. She's uh, not around here, is she?" Blade murmured under her breath, now suddenly starting to look nervous, worried,...and genuinely uneasy. The former W.A. now scanning the gymnasium in their immediate area as if Beauty was going to pop out from behind that punching bag or those treadmills in the distance...

“Hey now, don’t be so quick to underestimate Suzumi. She’s already made both me and Risako pay for that mistake,” Kishima said with a small chuckle, reaching a hand up and patting Blade’s head while it rested against her. “But yeah, good luck with Risako. I tried talking to her recently and wound up getting knocked out for my troubles. She’s...not been the most reasonable person, it seems…”

Kishima didn’t like saying it. Panther Risako was one of the people she’d respected the most in the Wrestle Angels locker room. In the eyes of many, Kishima included, she was an icon of the business. But the truth was what it was. Everyone had problems, but few had lashed out at others over them the way Risako had. It was just a messy situation all around…

When Blade asked about Ishikawa, Kishima almost chuckled again, thinking she might just be kidding. But when she saw the clear unease on her old partner’s face, she realized that fateful match between the two had left a stronger impression on Blade than it initially had seemed. To try to help calm her nerves, Kishima just smiled and gave her a light pat on the arm. “Nah. I’ve been around for a little while now. Definitely would’ve noticed that obnoxious prick somewhere if she were here.”

Blade's nervousness and trepidation about running into that pretentious blonde bimbo wasn't entirely unjustified. She knew the exact wording of their match stipulation was murky at best in regards to what would ever happen if W.A. went under. AFW management seemed to be all too willing to turn a blind eye to the entire convoluted situation so long as they could make money off of having Blade in their roster. But if there was anyone who could cause a big enough dustup to reenact that clause and have Blade sent packing again, it was Ichigaya.

For that reason among others, Blade was hoping to never run into that haughty windbag ever again. The former W.A. letting out a hefty sigh once Bomber gave her the all clear and told her Beauty was most definitely not a regular around here. As ecstatic as Blade was to officially get back into the business, she was just now realizing their sure were a bunch of people she didn't look forward to meeting again.

"...*phew*...That's a relief. Not that I'm scared of her or anything, but I guess that means that I'M the only obnoxious prick you have to worry about now." Blade gleefully chuckled before stepping up to stand atop Bomber's nearby bench press, the mischievous W.A. wrapping an arm tightly around her friend's shoulder now that she was tall enough to do so. "HEY!!! I've been thinking....why don't you and I school these nerds and show'em how a real tag-team throws down? Whaddya say we reform Blade Runners and go on a crazy tear around this place, just like old times!!!"