Nak 2.29: Wanna Be Startin' Somethin'

[Derek]

Shinsuke Nakamura had rolled onto his stomach and lifted his head in time to see the referee’s hand slapping the mat but too late to do anything about it. He raised himself up to his knees as Kevin Owen’s music began to blare over the arena. Mr. Wrestling looked down at his opponent, and only received a sinister grin in return. As Owens exited the ring and stomped up the ramp in triumph, he occasionally glanced over his shoulder, every time seeing the serenely crazed stare of the King of Strong Style following him. Once he was gone, Nakamura popped to his feet to the appreciative cheers from the crowd and stepped over Matt Sydal. He rolled out of the ring and threw a few of his trademark gesticulations on the way to the back, his head held high.

Stepping through the curtain, he is immediately set upon by EBWF’s senior correspondent. “Michael Cole here for an EBWF.net exclusive backstage reaction! Shinsuke Nakamura, what are your thoughts following your EBWF debut match?”

Nakamura sweeps his sweat-drenched hair away from his face. “I am…happy.”

Michael Cole makes a strange face and begins to pull the microphone back for a follow-up but Shinsuke hooks it with his index finger and drags it back. “You think that’s strange. Nakamura lost, why is he glad? You’re wondering if maybe I hit my head too hard against that…ehhh… barricade. If maybe I’m not thinking straight. Ha! My head has taken harder hits than that, rat-faced man. Nakamura is happy because he…under…estimated…the fighters here. They are not so bad. It still took two of them to keep me down though, ha! I am happy because I came here to fight the best and now I know that I…chose..ehh…correctly. It gives me the electricity, rat man! Yeaoh!”

With that, Shinsuke dances off camera leaving Michael Cole to close the segment. Before he gets too far though, Cole is running up behind him. “Wait, Shinsuke!”

He stops and turns back around. “What, rodent? Speak quickly, there are worlds to be conquered!”

Cole pulls a note out his pocket and hands it to the international superstar. “Jessica Rushing wants to meet with you tomorrow. Please don’t be late. The executives throw things at my head when they get upset.” Cole runs off with his crew to shot more interviews, leaving Shinsuke Nakamura alone.

-------

The next morning, Nakamura sits solemnly in an office chair wearing his nicest corporate suit, interpreter by his side simply because it amuses him. On the other side, the impeccably stylish Jessica Rushing, smiling and pulling up documents on her touchscreen. “Mr. Nakamura, or should I say Nakamura-san? I know we haven’t had a chance to really check in with each other, but all of us in the office were thrilled to hear that you had decided to come on board here at EBWF. How is your ‘settling in’ process going?”

Shinsuke looks beyond her through the wall-encompassing glass at the nearly endless gray city. It was all glass and steel and concrete, from up here it seemed devoid of all life and personality. He knew when he exited the building later today, he would see human figures, but they would be little more than ghostly blurs as they went about their day. He may walk back to the barren studio apartment he had found on short notice, or he may let them drop him off there in a company car. Either way it would also be gray and sterile, and maybe he would watch television with the captioning on to pick up new words, or maybe he would sit on his air mattress, because bringing a real bed up the stairs was too much hassle, and listen to music. That was how his settling in process was going. He leans to his interpreter. “Subete no hito ga watashi o yoku atsukawa rete imasu. Watashi wa tatakai no junbi o sa rete iru yō ni watashi wa jibun no ie no tame ni jikan o tora rete imasen.”

The interpreter nods and turns to Jessica. “Everyone has been treating me very well. I am getting adjusted slowly, as I have spent most of my time getting ready for my fights.”

She smiles again. “Wonderful, if there is anything we can do to make this transition easier, do not hesitate to ask!” Nakamura understands her nearly perfectly but lets the translator give him a slightly less-coherent version of it and makes a short grunt of appreciation. She continues, “And in only your second appearance for the company you will be in the top prospects tournament at an EBWF pay per view, so I think we can agree that there are big things in store for you here.”

Shinsuke smiles, which to Jessica implies agreement, but in fact is the King of Strong Style being amused at the concept of this tournament being any sort of big deal. He had main evented in the Tokyo Dome in front of 35,000 people. He had won the G1 Climax, the most grueling tournament in all of wrestling. Being one of eight people randomly put into brackets on the preshow was hardly anything worth getting excited about. But there were a few names in that field that he was very interested in seeing up close. Too bad none of those was his first round opponent. He turns to the interpreter. “Watashi wa atarashī sentōki ni jibun no sukiru o tesuto suru koto o tanoshiminishiteimasu. Tōnamento wa, watashiniha kyandī no yōna monodesu.”

The translator pauses and turns to Jessica again. “I am looking forward to testing myself against more competitors. I have good luck with tournaments.”

Jessica angles the touchscreen towards Nakamura. A color coded map of Asia is slowly morphing as it moves from one slide to the next. “The tournament isn’t quite my department, though. I wanted to bring you in today to discuss a little bit of strategy. As you can see from this graphic, our brand awareness in the Asian market has already jumped up twenty percent since your signing. This is a very good thing for both you and us, Nakamura-san. There is a saying here in America, we’ll call something a win-win. As EBWF helps you become more popular in America, you are helping us become more popular in Asia. Of course, we have another saying, it goes you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours. The more promotion you can do for the company, the higher your stock rises and the more we can do for you.”

He could tell her intentions were good. This wasn’t a shady under-the-table deal, it was an attempt to explain the lay of the land in simplest terms. The more visible a superstar is, the more name recognition they gain, the more they are perceived as a big deal and the better they are treated. Back in Japan, Mokabe had scored a regular spot on a television program and so no matter where he was on the card he was still perceived as a huge marketable star, his face was on posters for cards he was nowhere near the main event of because he had made his name recognizable. Still, he had turned down a larger sum of money to come here instead because they hadn’t wanted him to be a goodwill ambassador, they had promised him he could fight. He taps the translator on the leg. “Watashi wa jikkō suru inude wanai koto ga, chanpion ni naru tame ni koko ni imasu.”

The translator looks back at Nakamura to be sure he heard him correctly before continuing. “I am here to be the best. I did not come here to be a dancing dog.”

Jessica looks momentarily shocked. Shinsuke holds up his hand and speaks for himself. “The best way for me to be big deal in Japan is to…fight. And win. When I become champion, I will do as many interviews as you want.” He reaches a hand out. She smiles and takes it.

Walking out of the meeting, Shinsuke reaches for his phone, reminded of someone else who knows what it’s like to bring success from Japan back to America.

-------

AJ Styles picks at the label on his beer. “Run that by me again? What the heck is a dancing dog?”

Nakamura shrugs. “You know, is like…a dog on..ehh..hind legs? Looks like dancing.”

AJ shakes his head. “I understand that part, but you say it like it’s a thing. I mean, don’t get me wrong, your English is getting pretty good, but sometimes you still say these phrases that you think mean something. I ain’t never heard of someone being compared to a dancing dog. Were you thinking of a monkey? I’ve heard of dancing monkeys.”

“Bah. You know how I mean.” The King of Strong Style takes a long gulp and puts it down while rolling a cigarette in his fingers. “No one told me you cannot smoke in bars here. It is a disappointment.”

AJ takes the stick out of his hands and drops it in a glass of water. “Well now you have an excuse to cut back. It’s bad for your cardio anyway.”

Nakamura looks at him in disgust. He turns back to his bottle, muttering. “Still beat you, though.” He takes another swig, puts the bottle down. “I feel…ehh…eyes on me, yes? Nakamura, he is supposed to be so tough, he was best in Japan, if he loses, Japan is loser. I cannot let anything pull me from becoming great…interviews, they are distractions. I will prove myself, match by match, starting with this tournament.”

They are interrupted by an exaggerated Southern growl. "Well, hooleeee sheeeeiiit."

They turn around to see two large muscular men with shaved heads and black t-shirts. The shorter of the two slaps the larger on the arm. "They should've put a sign on the door, Doc. I didn't know it was c*** suckin' night."

The one identified as Doc minds reaching into his pants. "Well hell, Guns, let me just whip this out." His hand comes back up in a wolf pack gesture. AJ smiles as he forms the gesture himself and they bump hands. "What's the good word, brothers?"

Machine Gun Karl Anderson chuckles to Doc Gallows. "Ain't you heard, Doc? Brother Nak Nak is about to breakout worldwide, he made a big splash in the States. And AJ, he was seen drinking in a gay bar!"

Doc adopts the small voice of a weathered journeyman wrestler. "Oh now, AJ wasn't at the bar, he saves his drinking money to give to the orphanage and buy the kids shoes. He's a good brother."

The Phenomenal One laughs along with them. "I had heard they finally ran you boys out of Japan. That's what happens when you don't pay your bar tabs."

Doc Gallows grabs the beer out of Shinsuke's hand. "I'll be damned, word gets out that two hot free agents like us are seen chatting with EBWF stars, people will think we're coming over next."

Shinsuke shakes his head. "No worries of that. They only take the best wrestlers." He grins and a cute waitress drops a new bottle directly into his hand to the amazement of the Bullet Club.

Gallows takes another swig. "Aw hell, Guns, that Japanese bastard just burned us on our home turf. What is this world coming to? He thinks he's hot s*** now cos he has a match against Carlito."

Anderson nods. "That's what I call the little Karl after five tequilas. I tell you one thing, and here is some real advice now, when you got a Colon in the arena, best to shower at home. And that there is a shoot."

"No, it's more of a stab."

The two brutes share a dark laugh, while AJ is the first to notice a little slip of paper rolled up in the neck of Shinsuke's new bottle. He pulls it out and unrolls it to reveal a phone number. He drops it in disbelief while Nakamura just smiles. "What the heck, man? How does this always happen? Out of all the people in the bar, how is it that they always give their numbers to this straggly-haired mute?"

Shinsuke shrugs. "Because when it's cool versus swag, swag wins."