A stream of smoke rises into the night sky. Stars struggle to be seen against the bright lights of the Phillips Arena parking lot. Shinsuke Nakamura drops the last inch of his cigarette onto the ground and crushes it under his wrestling boot. With one last silent nod, he slams a fist against the fire exit door to summon the writing assistant that he has conscripted into smoke break duty. He slides into the building, grabbing his ring jacket off of a production crate and flipping it onto his body in one fluid movement. He begins the long walk to the ring and his first of what will surely be many EBWF main events.
When the match was announced, the internet nearly exploded. There are dream matches in this world. And then there are matches that you couldn’t even bring yourself to dream about. The concept of CM Punk taking on Shinsuke Nakamura in the middle of the ring was unfathomable until mere weeks ago, and was now already an early match of the year contender before the night even began. They were almost two sides of the same coin: both were strikers with technical acumen, both had killer knee attacks, both exuded charisma. Also, Shinsuke can’t help thinking to himself, both were on similar missions here in EBWF.
Steve Austin had entrusted Nakamura to be his Hand of God, meting out Strong Style punishments to those who had sinned against the business. When he watched the Last of Us, Punk and Owens, clear the ring last week, their words rang true to him. They were standing up for wrestling versus entertainment, but their methods had already proven to be a perversion of what they were railing against. He was defending the honor, the very soul of puroresu itself, while they were trying to force it into their personal vision. The fact that they had publically announced their intentions while he let his actions tell the story showed their differences.
But still, their similarities were striking. There was a possibility that their dual campaigns may end up benefiting this company, even as they will repeatedly come into conflict with one another. Years of dealing with the Bullet Club in Japan had taught Shinsuke how American stables operated. Where you saw one, the rest would follow. Being in the ring with the Punk had put a target on his back, and Owens will be lurking.
It was strange how Nakamura’s first month in the company had kept weaving in and out with Kevin Owens, and as long as he held the Intercontinental Title, he would always remain in the King of Swag’s sights. Tonight, however, he was only a passing concern. Punk was certainly dangerous enough on his own. But Shinsuke’s minimal EBWF record obscures a fact that Punk, a student of the game, already knows all too well; he is just as dangerous.
He walks straight through a Michael Cole backstage segment, turning the corner towards the gorilla position. Cole chases after him.
“Looks like we can grab a quick word with the King of Strong Style before his first main event. Shinsuke!”
Nakamura gestures. “I am a busy man, Rat. Walk and talk.”
Cole jogs alongside the international superstar. “Shinsuke, we are moments away from your highly anticipated matchup with CM Punk. What are your thoughts?”
Nakamura turns and walks backwards as he addresses Cole. “I have many thoughts, Rat Man. All day long I have been thinking about how closely matched we are, and how I can get an advantage. But I already had the advantage all along. CM Punk may be as charismatic as me, he may know as many kicks and submissions as I do, and he may be just as decorated and respected as me. But even CM Punk does not have the one thing that sets me above everyone else here in EBWF. Come on, Rat, I’ve told you before.”
Michael Cole raises an eyebrow. “Fighting spirit?”
Shinsuke spins around and picks up his pace. He waves to the camera. “Yeaoh!” A few steps later he shouts in the distance. “Next time send me the blonde!”
