Wrestling

But Okada absorbed the blow. He didn’t even stumble. He just slowly lowered his hand from his eyes and glared at Jasun. The look of pure menace on Okada’s face caused the blood to drain from Jasun’s complexion.

"Uh oh," Jasun mumbled, the microphone catching the faint sound of his panic.

Okada grabbed Jasun by the wrist, pulled Jasun toward him and hoisted him into the air for a devastating back body drop. Jasun soared through the air, crashing down onto the canvas with a sickening thud that echoed through the building.

Meanwhile, Moonie was attempting a similar desperate escape. He shoved his boot out, catching Ray Jr. in his ribs. Ray winced, his momentum stalling just enough for Moonie to scramble out of the corner. Moonie scrambled toward the ropes, looking to slide out of the ring and make a run for the backstage area.

Ray wasn’t going to let him escape.

He lunged forward, grabbing Moonie by the ankle just as the tag champion was sliding under the bottom rope. Moonie kicked frantically, his free boot connecting with Ray’s shoulder, but Ray’s grip held firm. With a sharp and aggressive tug, Ray dragged Moonie back into the side of the ring.

Moonie popped up to his feet, swinging blindly. Ray evaded the strike effortlessly, pivoted on his white sneakers, and delivered a lightning-fast spinning heel kick. The sole of Ray’s shoe connected flush with Moonie’s temple. The tag champion spun like a top spin before collapsing face-first onto the mat.

[Braxton: Moonie is down! Jasun is down! They are getting mauled!]

[Tanaka: This is what happens when you cross the line and you don’t respect the ring ethics. You don’t attack rookies after the bell, and you certainly don’t mock the roster when the World Heavyweight Champion is watching.]

The ring exemplified a scene of absolute devastation. Jasun was crawling weakly toward the ropes on the south side, clutching his chest where Okada’s chops had bruised the skin. Moonie was sprawled out on the north side, completely disoriented from Ray’s heel kick.

Ray Jr. and Renji Okada stood in the center of the ring.

They were breathing heavily, the physical exertion of the sprint and the brawl catching up to them, but their posture remained unbroken. The blinding white lights of the arena washed over them in all their glory.

Okada looked down at Jasun. Ray looked down at Moonie.

The crowd noise shifted again. It transformed from a chaotic roar into a sustained chant. The noisy crowd realized what was coming next. The brawling was over. It was time for the finale.

Okada turned his head slowly, his eyes locking onto Ray’s masked face.

The World Heavyweight Champion didn’t say a word, rather he raised his tape-wrapped right wrist into the air, the universal signal for his devastating finisher.

Ray met the champion’s gaze. He didn’t nod this time. He didn’t need to. He mirrored the motion, backing slowly into the corner, his eyes fixed on the base of Moonie’s neck. He pressed his right arm tight against his chest, exposing the hard, unforgiving bone of his elbow.

The setup was in place.

[Braxton: Wait a minute... Would you look at that! It’s wraps, ladies and gentlemen.]

[Tanaka: They’re setting it up! They’re going to finish this right here, right now!]

Jasun and Moonie, acting purely on instinct and a desperate need to survive, began to push themselves up from the canvas at the exact same time. They were groggy, stumbling, their equilibrium scrambled.

Jasun staggered to his feet, turning around blindly, his arms hanging limp at his sides.

Moonie pushed up onto his hands and knees, dragging himself upright, his head hanging low, his neck completely exposed.

The timing was immaculate. It was a terrifying display of synchronicity between two men who had never teamed together, never strategized, and operated in entirely different spheres of the Japan Wrestling roster.

Okada exploded forward.

Ray Jr. exploded out of the corner.

They crossed the canvas in a blur of motion.

Okada swung his massive arm with the force of a freight train, aiming directly for Jasun’s throat.

Ray leaped, twisting his body sideways in mid-air to maximize the force, aiming his exposed elbow directly at the base of Moonie’s skull.

[Braxton: CLOTHESLINE FROM HELL!]

[Tanaka: RAY GUN!]

SMACK.

Then, CRACK.

The two impacts echoed simultaneously, a singular, horrifying sound that shook the squared circle to its core.

The Clothesline From Hell connected with Jasun’s neck, lifting the tag champion completely off his feet. He was violently flipped backward, crashing down onto the back of his head with sickening force.

The Ray Gun connected flush with the base of Moonie’s skull. The silver-clad wrestler’s body collapsed forward immediately from the impact, his face burying into the canvas, motionless.

The Grand Auditorium came apart.

The noise was astronomical, a concussive shockwave of pure elation that rattled the rigging. Fans were leaping, throwing their hands into the air, screaming themselves hoarse.

Inside the ring, the dust was settling.

Jasun and Moonie lay still, sprawled out on opposite sides of the canvas, utterly broken.

Renji Okada stood tall over Jasun, his chest heaving, his taped wrist lowered to his side. He looked down at the unconscious tag champion, his face only projected satisfaction.

Ray Jr. stood over Moonie. He lowered his right arm, the adrenaline finally beginning to recede, allowing the dull aches to return. But he didn’t clutch his injuries. He remained upright, his blue and silver mask looking out over the sea of flashing cameras and roaring fans.

Okada turned his head, looking across the ring at Ray.

The champion offered a single, firm nod of respect. It wasn’t just acknowledgment of a successful brawl, it was acknowledgment that Ray Jr. belonged in that ring, fighting for the integrity of the roster, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with the king of the mountain.

Ray returned the nod.

The cameras pulled back, capturing the final, defining image of the broadcast.

Sun and Moon laid out on the canvas, while Renji Okada and Ray Jr. stood tall under the blinding lights, the guardians of Japan Wrestling.

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