Nak 4.25: A Meeting Between Royalty

[Derek]

We pan through a crowded bar to find the King of Strong Style, surveying the crowd from his stool with a bemused smile. As a whole, these American bars didn’t have the character or the wacky pageantry and gimmicks of his favorite bars back home, what these people called hipster-y he just knew as every third corner. But there was a simple charm to these hole in the wall pubs, and he feels at ease.

His calm is interrupted by the approach of Tyler Breeze in a designer hoodie. That’s exactly like a regular hoodie except it costs triple digits. The King of Cuteville looks around the dive that he has found himself in and shudders. “Ugh. I kept telling myself there must have been a glitch in the Swarm app because there is no way anyone would voluntarily be at a place like this but sure enough, here you are. Just THINKING of what kinds of fluids my Margielas are soaking in right now is hurting my soul. My soul! “

Nakamura looks down at the designer sneakers then simply shrugs. Prince Pretty points to him. “I mean, it’s the perfect place for you, I suppose. What is this thing you have going on here? The leather coats, the emo hair, the weird teeth, what do you call this look?”

A waitress drops a folded up piece of paper into Shinsuke’s lap, causing Tyler’s jaw to drop slightly. He recovers his composure as he watches the young lady walk across the bar. “But I suppose there is no accounting for taste.” He turns back to Shinsuke. “I’m going to make this short and sweet, because I can already feel the germs reproducing all over my body. I see that you have a match this week against Carlito. That man. If my skin wasn’t already crawling, the thought of that hair would do it. I don’t know if you’re aware but Carl and myself are engaged in a deeply personal blood feud, even without him taking my Breakout title belt away from me, I would hate him with every adorable molecule in my body.

You’re not just another uggo. I’ve heard that you have bit of a boner for honor and respect, and that you have a habit of punishing people who go against your code. I don’t quite understand it, but in the modelling world, I’ve seen my fair share of righteous retribution. Normally through stealing someone else’s beauty products or ripping their Spanx. And that’s the kind of hell I wish upon Carlito. If you could make a point of taking him to the proverbial woodshed, I would consider it a personal favor. To me.”

Nakamura doesn’t react. Silence lingers as the bartender brings one beer and one small tumbler filled with orange liquid and a small red straw. Nakamura takes a swig of his beer while Tyler slowly sips on the straw. After he realizes Shinsuke is not going to say anything, Breeze continues.

“A personal favor that I will repay by giving you a free session with my personal stylist.”

No answer.

“And you can have my standing appointment at Jonathon and George.”

Still no answer

. “And my masseuse.”

The King remains silent.

“And twenty bucks.”

Finally Nakamura puts his bottle down and looks at Breeze. “Who are you?” The tiny straw falls out of Tyler’s mouth and he performs out the smallest spit take in history before sputtering in disbelief to the great amusement of Nakamura.

Through his laughter, Shinsuke assures him, “Do not worry, it was only a joke. Of course I know you. What kind of competitor would I be if I didn’t keep…ehhh…tabs on everyone I may have to face? You are the one whose eye swelled to the size of a baseball, ha! I must say, your offer is very generous.” He starts to pick at the label on his bottle. “You can keep your stylist, don’t need someone else trying to throw off my swag and wrapping me in blue Muppet fur,ha! The rest though, I have been meaning to…eh….pamper myself more lately, so you have a deal. In truth though…”

Shinsuke removes the peeling label and sticks it to Breeze’s chest. “I was kicking that bird nest off of his head anyway. He is going to be telling the world until the day he dies how he had a victory over Shinsuke Nakamura, and I am happy that he could have that fleeting moment of happiness. But it is only going to ever be ONE victory.

I had underestimated him, which is easy enough to do when you look at the wretched creature, eh? I saw a dumb, weak sloth with stupid hair, and was assured that he could not possibly beat anyone in a thumb-wrestling match, let alone stand up to the strong style. And in the end, I was proven right. He did not outwrestle me, he only proved to be craftier than I thought. Carlito did not defeat me, Carlito’s thumb defeated me. His apples defeated you. Craftiness is only going to be getting him so far. There will come a day when he has to wrestle man-to-man and that outcome is as plain as the thin nose on your scrubbed face.

I see how uncomfortable you are here. You are surprised that you can find a King in a place like this, yes? It is comforting to me. Before I was strong style, I was just a lower class boy getting beaten up after school. These people are my past. I had to learn to fight to defend myself, to earn my way up in the world. First I learned martial arts to survive school. Then I learned grappling to gain status. And I learned wrestling to escape. I was not born a King. I took my crown.

Carlito, he has been born into this. He is a, what do you call it, yes, he is a trust fund child. Living off the inheritance of previous generations, growing fat and lazy and complacent in the family estate. He was handed this, he does not know the sweaty brow of field labor to earn his keep. For him, wrestling is the family business. But for me, it is MY business. It is what I have strived for, day after day, year after year, mile after mile. He is on permanent autopilot, coasting through the business. It is in his DNA, but it is in my blood. My heart beats ‘Pu-ro. Pu-ro.’ And he can never understand that. Never.”

Nakamura stands up from his stool and looks Tyler Breeze directly in the eyes. “People misunderstand me. I am not defending Steve Austin’s interests, I am not avenging petty slights. I protect the soul of wrestling. Carlito is going to find that out. Pray for him. And pray for yourself, that it may never be your turn.”

Nakamura flashes his demented grin, winks, and walks away. Breeze turns around to pay for his drink when Nakamura returns, pulls the wallet out of his hand and plucks out a twenty dollar bill. “Yeaoh.” Breeze shakes his head as he watches Nakamura exit the bar.