Wrestling

Down in the ring, Ray Jr. dropped into a defensive stance out of pure instinct. He couldn’t see his own hands in front of his face.

Beside him, Renji Okada didn’t flinch. The champion remained perfect, his veteran senses calculating the shift in the environment. He knew this wasn’t a power failure. Power failures didn’t happen often. This was a production cue.

"Stay sharp," Okada’s deep voice rumbled in the darkness.

Managing to roll away onto the floor outside the ring, Jasun and Moonie were just beginning to get themselves. The sudden blackout left the groggy Tag Team Champions somehow even more disoriented, stumbling blindly against the barricades.

Backstage, Ryoman looked at his phone. A confirmation text from the graphics department flashed on the screen. It was ready.

"Hit it!" Ryoman ordered.

The massive jumbotron suspended high above the entrance ramp sparked to life.

It didn’t illuminate the arena with bright white light. Instead, it cast a harsh, blood-red glow over the tens of thousands of fans.

The promotional image for the upcoming event flashed on the screen. Thick chains, rusted steel, and the bold font of the word UNFORGIVING.

Then, the graphic transitioned.

The crowd went silent for exactly one second as their brains processed the text appearing on the fifty-foot screen.

TAG TEAM MATCH

SUN AND MOON vs. RENJI OKADA & RAY JR.

A low murmur started to build. The prospect of the World Heavyweight Champion teaming up with the rookie sensation to take on the champions was massive. But the graphic wasn’t finished.

Below the names, three distinct icons materialized on the screen.

A wooden table.

A steel ladder.

A folding chair.

The text faded in beneath the icons, cementing the reality of Mr. Shin’s ruthless business tactics.

TABLES, LADDERS, AND CHAIRS MATCH

The Auditorium’s noise exploded once again.

The pop was deafening, an unhinged shout that dwarfed the reaction to the initial brawl. It wasn’t just a tag team match. It was a TLC match. One of the most dangerous, career-shortening gimmick matches in the entire industry. A match designed to guarantee violence, broken wood, and dented steel.

In the ring, the red glow from the jumbotron washed over Ray Jr.’s masked face.

He stared up at the screen. He had wanted to make a statement. He had wanted to show Sun and Moon that they couldn’t just walk all over the younger talent. He had accomplished that. But he hadn’t anticipated the corporate suit weaponizing his actions this quickly.

"A TLC match."

He had seen what those matches did to people. He had watched his father take bumps onto steel ladders that left him limping for weeks. It was a demolition derby masquerading as an athletic contest.

Ray turned his head, looking at Okada.

The World Heavyweight Champion was staring at the same screen. Okada’s expression remained unreadable. He didn’t look angry. He didn’t look excited either. He looked like he was already calculating the physical cost of it.

Okada slowly lowered his gaze from the jumbotron and looked at Ray.

The champion stared at the masked rookie for a long, heavy moment. Okada was the king of the mountain, a technical master who prided himself on pure wrestling. Now, because he had stepped in to help, he was booked into a match when so far, he had none. It was his deserved ’no title defence’ rest.

"You wanted to fight," Okada said, his voice barely carrying over the deafening noise of the crowd.

Okada turned his back, ducked through the middle rope, and dropped down to the floor. He didn’t wait for Ray. He began the long walk up the ramp, his broad shoulders bathed in the red light of the screen.

Ray Jr. was left standing alone in the center of the ring.

He looked down at the canvas, where Moonie’s sweat still stained the mat. The adrenaline was fading rapidly now, replaced by the realization of what he had just committed himself to.

He walked to the ropes, sliding out of the ring, and followed Okada up the ramp.

---

When Ray stepped through the curtain and into the backstage area, the chaotic noise of the arena was muffled. The production crew was already moving on to the post-show breakdown, shouting instructions and wrapping cables.

Ryoman was standing in his path.

The General Manager didn’t look angry anymore. He looked indifferent.

"You wanted to make your own rules, Ray," Ryoman said smoothly, stepping aside to let him pass. "Now you have to survive them. Good luck at Unforgiving."

Ray didn’t respond. He kept walking down the corridor, his sneakers squeaking against the floor.

He rounded the corner heading toward the locker rooms and stopped.

Bambietta was standing outside the door. She had her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her jacket pulled snug against the chill of the air conditioning. She was staring a hole through the floor, her jaw clenched tight enough to crack teeth.

She had watched everything and she knew exactly what a Tables, Ladders, and Chairs match meant for a man, her man who she had watched, spend a month in a cervical collar.

Ray walked up to her, stopping a few feet away.

"Don’t say it," Ray muttered, pulling the mask off his head and running a hand through his damp hair.

Bambietta looked up at him. Her eyes were furious, but beneath the anger, there was that familiar, exhausting fear she carried for him every time he stepped through the ropes.

"A TLC match, Jey?" she said, her voice dangerously quiet. "You couldn’t just throw a punch and come back? You had to get yourself booked into a match where the entire objective is to put each other through steel and wood?"

"I didn’t book it, Bam. Shin did."

"Because you gave him the excuse too! Oh my god, Jey!" she snapped, uncrossing her arms and stepping into his space. "Okada is a heavyweight. He can absorb that kind of punishment. You are coming off severe muscular trauma in your neck. If you take a bad bump off a ladder or through a table--I don’t know what I’m going to do!"

"I know," Jey interrupted, keeping his voice low. He reached out, gently gripping her shoulders. "I know exactly what the risks are. But I can’t back out. Not after standing next to Okada. If I walk away, I’m done here."

Bambietta stared at him, searching his face for any sign of hesitation.

She let out a defeated breath and dropped her forehead against his chest, her hands coming up to grip the fabric of his t-shirt.

"You are going to get yourself killed in this industry, what will I do then?" she whispered.

"I won’t. I can promise you that," Jey replied, resting his chin on top of her head. "Come on. We can finally go home."

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