Wrestling

"Tch."

Fenrisha’s jaw tightened. A faint flush appeared on her cheeks, betraying her stern persona.

"It was nice seeing you both," Fenrisha said loudly, deliberately ignoring the question and attempting to walk away. "Please, do not leave your belongings behind again."

She didn’t look back, maintaining a purposeful stride toward the elevators.

Jey and Bambietta watched her retreat. As soon as the elevator doors slid shut behind her, Jey closed the hotel room door, leaning his back against it.

He looked at the two gym bags in his arms, then looked at Bambietta.

They both burst out laughing.

Bambietta laughed louder, grabbing her bag from his grip. "We aren’t that annoying."

"Maybe a little."

"Agree to disagree," Bambietta said, unzipping her bag and pulling out a clean pair of jeans. "Hurry up and shower. We promised your mother we’d bring lunch back, and I am starving as well."

---

Twenty minutes later, they were fully dressed and walking out of Lifestyle. Jey wore a fresh grey t-shirt and jeans, his damp hair was slicked back. Bambietta had packed her hair into a messy bun, wearing her dark sweater over her t-shirt.

The midday heat of Nishinomiya hit them the moment they stepped out of the air-conditioned building. The streets were significantly busier than they had been during their arrival. Various types of cars and delivery trucks clogged the lanes, and the sidewalks were crowded with pedestrians.

They walked to the parking lot and got into the car. Jey slid into the driver’s seat, tossing his gym bag into the back. Bambietta took the passenger side, buckling her seatbelt and reaching out to adjust the air conditioning.

"How’s the back feeling?" Bambietta asked, watching him closely as he twisted around to check his blind spot before pulling out of the parking space.

"Still fine," Jey promised, steering the car out onto the main road. "No pain. You don’t need to ask me every ten minutes."

"I’ll ask you as much as I want," she retorted, crossing her arms. "I have the right to."

Jey smiled, keeping his eyes on the road. "What did Mom say she wanted for lunch?"

Bambietta pulled her phone from her pocket, tapping the screen to open her messages. "She texted me about twenty minutes ago. She said she didn’t have a specific craving, but she wanted something heavy. Comfort food. I was thinking we stop by Matsumoto’s on the way back."

Jey merged into the heavier traffic heading toward the heart of Osaka. "Matsumoto’s? We haven’t been there before, why suggest it?"

"Exactly," Bambietta said. "Plus, I heard it’s the best spot for hot takeout, and their braised pork belly is exactly the kind of heavy comfort food your mother needs right now. It’s also on our way."

"Matsumoto’s it is," Jey agreed.

The drive from Nishinomiya back into Osaka took forty minutes due to the congested afternoon traffic. The transition between the two areas was always jarring. Nishinomiya was quiter and lined with high-end boutiques. Osaka was loud, densely packed, and a lot more vibrant. With signs overlapping each other, towering above the streets even in the daylight, and the sheer volume of foot traffic moving across the intersections was also staggering.

Jey navigated the sedan through the streets, eventually finding a paid parking lot three blocks away from the restaurant. He pulled the car into a tight spot.

"Do you want me to come in with you, or do you want to handle it?" Bambietta asked, unbuckling her seatbelt.

"Stay here," Jey said, pulling the key from the ignition. "I’ll just go in, grab the order, and come right back."

"You got it," she said, leaning over the center console to give him a quick peck on the cheek. "Get whatever for me. For Linda’s order, add extra spicy sauce on the side."

Jey stepped out of the car, and shut the door.

The three-block walk was pretty lonely till the sensory overload. Various delightful smells all hitting him at once. Jey kept his head down slightly, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans. He didn’t have his mask on, and while he wasn’t as recognizable without it, he didn’t want to risk catching the attention of an overly observant wrestling fan. The last thing he needed right now was someone asking for a picture or bombarding him with questions about Billy and his injury.

He turned, spotting the familiar facade of Matsumoto’s.

Bambietta had been right. The line for takeout was long, trailing out the front door and snaking along the brick wall of the building. The restaurant was wildly popular among locals for its massive portions and rich, slow-cooked meats.

Jey let out a quiet sigh and took his place at the back of the line.

The wait was tedious, but it gave him time to think. He stood with his arms crossed, shuffling forward a few feet every couple of minutes as the line progressed. His mind drifted back to previous events. But he tried to focus on the future, working on becoming one of the top faces of Japan Wrestling, but his thoughts kept snagging...

Tyler Briggs.

Although his first JW match ended in a loss to Billy, Jey had hijacked the rookie’s moment nonetheless. Briggs had been putting on a phenomenal performance, utilizing incredible speed and high-flying offense to push Billy to the absolute limit. And then Jey had walked out, sat at the commentary desk, and completely derailed the match.

Jey felt Billy had taken his frustration out on the younger wrestler, hitting him with a devastating Tiger Driver and a Mexican Destroyer just to send a message.

Jey felt a heavy knot of guilt settle in his stomach. The wrestling industry was tough enough without veterans using rookies as collateral damage in their personal feuds.

Briggs didn’t deserve to be a prop in the Ray family drama.

The line finally moved inside the restaurant.

The interior of Matsumoto’s was loud and chaotic. Cooks shouted orders to each other in Japanese over the roar of sizzling grills. The air was filled with steam and the rich, savory scent of the famed braised pork.

Jey shuffled forward, finally reaching the front of the takeout counter.

A small, energetic cashier stood behind the register, wiping down the counter with a towel. She looked up, offering a tired but polite smile.

Jey stepped up to the register, pulling his wallet from his pocket. He began translating his order, preparing to ask for three large portions of the pork belly and the extra spicy sauce Bambietta requested for Linda.

Before he could speak, a voice cut through the noise of the restaurant.

"Yeah, just the chicken bowl. No, no rice. Just the chicken. Thanks."

The English was spoken perfectly.

Jey froze. He recognized the voice.

He slowly turned his head to the right.

Right beside him, standing at the adjacent pickup counter waiting for his food, was Tyler Briggs.

The rookie cruiserweight obviously wasn’t wearing his flashy blue and white aerodynamic tights. He was dressed in a plain, oversized grey hoodie with the hood pulled up over his head, attempting to maintain a low profile.

But the hoodie couldn’t hide the extensive damage written across his face. The left side of Briggs’ jaw was heavily bruised, swollen and discolored from the stiff European uppercuts Billy had rained down on him in the corner of the ring. A small, white bandage was taped over his cheekbone, right where Billy’s taped fist had connected during the opening minutes of the match.

Aside from that, Briggs’ posture was fairly straight, his shoulders locked in place, he didn’t look like he was fighting against severe muscle stiffness of any sort. He moved his arm slowly, reaching into the front pocket of his jeans to prepare a few yen.

Jey stared at him. "Speak of the devil," he said to himself.

Briggs handed the money to the worker behind the pickup counter, grabbing the plastic bag containing his food. The rookie turned and headed toward the exit. Not noticing Jey at all.

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