Post by Deleted on Sept 10, 2019 15:36:28 GMT -5
Two Hours after Jubeilation II
Masuda Jubei, fresh off a mixture of achievement and humiliation, sits alone in bathtub large enough for four people. He takes a corner like Scarface with the world around him in an impenetrable bubble. Yokohama beckons from a large window, lights begging him to join in all the fun. He probably knows how much those members of Fourgasm are enjoying a night on the town—mostly at his expense. Yet he seems positive above a layer of skin rejuvenating waters.
Jubei: Here we are again, Yokohama. I know you can hear me. I know what’s under your skin, and the blood thickened beneath your nails. Color them in skylights or neon signs. Do anything to make us look away from the evil tentacles wrapping around your structures. That’s why they’re so close together… because monsters like me are your heartbeat. We are your pillar.
He takes that little lantern, the one item he can never leave without it being on his person, and holds it under the penthouse mood lighting.
Jubei: No one hears, little ones. No knows how I encompassed the little stories left dry. Unkillable. Undeniable. Masuda Jubei. An idea unlike what this company deserves. What only this last string of events has proven to me in full. Jubeilation was to be a bridge between what people know about me, and what they could learn about themselves. Entertainment does this by opening your mind in a place where normal life cannot reach you. Dreams stowed away until the last vestige dies. I saw their dreams tonight, and like all of you I cut down to reach this platform, I enjoyed watching them go up in flames.
He turns around and smashes his keepsake against a wall. There, bared to all his imperfection, Masuda flexes back to let his tattoo feel alive.
Jubei: They want me to team with Jaice Wilds now? What can I achieve sharing a corner with someone whose arrogance has only brought him to champion doormat? He’s not worth my ability. I’ve headlined the biggest shows this company has ever dreamt. Inaugural World Champion on a stage I built and starred for their profit. And for what result… to have my one token of kindness ruined by a transient fighter proclaiming himself their hero. The same man our management put into this week’s main event. Fine, wilds can be my burden to bear.
The Master walks over to a rack and vests himself into a white haori robe. His view over the city brings him to what seems like happiness, even if his vacuous expression doesn’t show it.
Jubei: I’ve wanted this for so long that it all feels like a dream. To be atop a company as a competitor. My time with Jason Zurra reminds me of some the things he used to tell me… that I was a manipulator, not a leader—as if there’s a difference. Leaders leave a heartfelt sense of respect inside. Let those under them feel needed. Manipulators drain whelps until they can no longer produce. If they get the same job done, at the same pace, why the distinction? Because those like Zurra feel they’re doing things the “right” way. There is no wrong way, only completion. That’s why I had to destroy him… a victory is a victory, and he still lost.
Jubei adjusts his obi sash tightly, letting his wet feet dry on the marbled lament beneath them.
Jubei: No one’s recording this lucid moment. It’s refreshing to know how your mind sees these things when others aren’t looking. Not having to count the steps between unimportant things, or apologizing for every person mistreated. No one to impress because they don’t matter in the path of the victor. They only hamper their ultimate vision. Such is the crippling image of my opponents. More people built on the foundations of impressing “The” people. “The” fans. “The” people clinging to your success. The only reason I’m here, and they’re not, began when I freed myself from the stories of others and embraced my own. That is success.
Hachiro: Which is why you should never have made a company, Masuda-san.
Jubei turns to see a slightly taller man in purple designer suit. Those combed features give him a plastic look next to his own jagged surfaces.
Hachiro: You missed the auction.
Jubei: Because I don’t need Nakajima’s portion of Masuda Corp. Unlike you, Hachiro.
Hachiro: I’m just trying to help this company stay on track. You, Jubei-san, are more unpredictable than a stock market. At least with those we see trends. You live under a ruse, pretending the world thinks about you. It doesn’t because you treat it like an oyster.
Hachiro follows him into the next room where Jubei has set up a meditation suite. Incense burns hints of tamarind next to the aroma of steamy green tea. He pours them both a cup, but the tense wire coursing his body can only hold its shape fore so long.
Hachiro: You didn’t even attend his funeral. Wasn’t Nakajima one of your first investors?
Jubei: He was a terrified old man with pre-war money and no master to serve. He needed me.
Hachiro: Right, someone to coerce him into action. Discipline his for being too conservative.
Jubei: Get to the point… you were his disciple. Now you want to talk expenses.
Hachiro takes a long, blissful sip of tea. Masuda grips with enough force to shatter its porcelain.
Hachiro: Fine, I wanted to be nice for a change, Masuda-san. But if you want to be direct… the board wants to know more about this Jubeilation show.
Jubei: Such as how I funded it without using company funds?
Hachiro: You can’t keep penciling and erasing finances. Sooner or later, someone is going to ask questions. Someone who isn’t me.
Hachiro walks towards the door, leaving half a cup behind.
Jubei: If you don’t understand my business. You can take your shares and sell them to me.
Hachiro: I think I’ll stay… you have a knack for finding money where others aren’t looking.
Masuda lets aromatherapy transport him from the needs of his company to somewhere serene. Where no one but his own words coalesce.
Jubei: If they expect to see me crack, then APW hasn’t been paying attention. There is no weakness to Masuda Jubei. A name chiseled into the very bones of an otherwise starved promotion. They’d drown without me. Which is why this aimless tag match has nothing for me. I don’t like Wilds and I don’t trust him. We share sordid pasts, yes, but his effect on people is just disgusting. I will make due and win it for him. Because Masuda doesn’t lose.
Enhancing the experience, Jubei speaks from his heart while taping his fingers intermittently.
Jubei: Now we cue what will be an endless chain of weak insults from Charmaine. I’m ready for whatever she thinks Twitter can do to stop me. Influencer, inspiration… you don’t even understand why people follow your every move. Why they drop to their knees at your nagging words. It’s because people don’t know how to succeed. They don’t love you, Charmaine. They want to be you. And let’s throw out what makes you a god. Gods don’t feel for those worshipping them. They strike with impunity. If anyone in APW is a god—it’s me. A few million thumbprints won’t save you from what happens in my matches. I strike people down, you know, like all gods do. Find one that actually loves people. I’ll help you… those sort failed the test of time. Deities willing to crush opposition—only those kinds of gods survive. Love is weak.
Masuda takes a long sigh, letting the incense do its job.
Jubei: You need to take a page from your partner’s book. Dean Wolf isn’t caught up in what people think about his actions. He doesn’t waste time in vain hope of being an influencer. He ties his boots and fights. Why can’t you do the same? The more you try to decode what people feel, the more things that clutter a vision. Wolf has held the most tumultuous belt for twice now. If he spent more than a second trying to make people like him, child, the rest of his division would eat him alive. Admit that you’re just another dreamer blessed with athletic genes… maybe then you’ll have a chance against Jaice Wilds. I’m unreachable.
He reaches out and crushes the burning wick between his callous fingers.
Jubei: But I think it’s all just part of game theory. Only those bound by rules are destined to follow them. Masuda Corp knows this, and it’s why we are the dominant force holding this fragile company together. Charmaine is not a god; she’s weak. Dean Wolf is vulnerable. And my partner, Jaice Wilds, is delusional. I continue to outsmart everyone in this company because the rules no longer apply to me. After Smith Jones’s attack, in which he ruined my birthday cake, I realized there’s no reason to be altruistic with Alpha Pro-Wrestling. Nor any reason for me to reach out to fans in a loving way. I have the army and the power to ruin everything they love. The reason we have a match is because I allow there to be one. Monday will further prove that my reach knows no bounds, and that no one can stop me… Osama banzai.
Masuda Jubei, fresh off a mixture of achievement and humiliation, sits alone in bathtub large enough for four people. He takes a corner like Scarface with the world around him in an impenetrable bubble. Yokohama beckons from a large window, lights begging him to join in all the fun. He probably knows how much those members of Fourgasm are enjoying a night on the town—mostly at his expense. Yet he seems positive above a layer of skin rejuvenating waters.
Jubei: Here we are again, Yokohama. I know you can hear me. I know what’s under your skin, and the blood thickened beneath your nails. Color them in skylights or neon signs. Do anything to make us look away from the evil tentacles wrapping around your structures. That’s why they’re so close together… because monsters like me are your heartbeat. We are your pillar.
He takes that little lantern, the one item he can never leave without it being on his person, and holds it under the penthouse mood lighting.
Jubei: No one hears, little ones. No knows how I encompassed the little stories left dry. Unkillable. Undeniable. Masuda Jubei. An idea unlike what this company deserves. What only this last string of events has proven to me in full. Jubeilation was to be a bridge between what people know about me, and what they could learn about themselves. Entertainment does this by opening your mind in a place where normal life cannot reach you. Dreams stowed away until the last vestige dies. I saw their dreams tonight, and like all of you I cut down to reach this platform, I enjoyed watching them go up in flames.
He turns around and smashes his keepsake against a wall. There, bared to all his imperfection, Masuda flexes back to let his tattoo feel alive.
Jubei: They want me to team with Jaice Wilds now? What can I achieve sharing a corner with someone whose arrogance has only brought him to champion doormat? He’s not worth my ability. I’ve headlined the biggest shows this company has ever dreamt. Inaugural World Champion on a stage I built and starred for their profit. And for what result… to have my one token of kindness ruined by a transient fighter proclaiming himself their hero. The same man our management put into this week’s main event. Fine, wilds can be my burden to bear.
The Master walks over to a rack and vests himself into a white haori robe. His view over the city brings him to what seems like happiness, even if his vacuous expression doesn’t show it.
Jubei: I’ve wanted this for so long that it all feels like a dream. To be atop a company as a competitor. My time with Jason Zurra reminds me of some the things he used to tell me… that I was a manipulator, not a leader—as if there’s a difference. Leaders leave a heartfelt sense of respect inside. Let those under them feel needed. Manipulators drain whelps until they can no longer produce. If they get the same job done, at the same pace, why the distinction? Because those like Zurra feel they’re doing things the “right” way. There is no wrong way, only completion. That’s why I had to destroy him… a victory is a victory, and he still lost.
Jubei adjusts his obi sash tightly, letting his wet feet dry on the marbled lament beneath them.
Jubei: No one’s recording this lucid moment. It’s refreshing to know how your mind sees these things when others aren’t looking. Not having to count the steps between unimportant things, or apologizing for every person mistreated. No one to impress because they don’t matter in the path of the victor. They only hamper their ultimate vision. Such is the crippling image of my opponents. More people built on the foundations of impressing “The” people. “The” fans. “The” people clinging to your success. The only reason I’m here, and they’re not, began when I freed myself from the stories of others and embraced my own. That is success.
Hachiro: Which is why you should never have made a company, Masuda-san.
Jubei turns to see a slightly taller man in purple designer suit. Those combed features give him a plastic look next to his own jagged surfaces.
Hachiro: You missed the auction.
Jubei: Because I don’t need Nakajima’s portion of Masuda Corp. Unlike you, Hachiro.
Hachiro: I’m just trying to help this company stay on track. You, Jubei-san, are more unpredictable than a stock market. At least with those we see trends. You live under a ruse, pretending the world thinks about you. It doesn’t because you treat it like an oyster.
Hachiro follows him into the next room where Jubei has set up a meditation suite. Incense burns hints of tamarind next to the aroma of steamy green tea. He pours them both a cup, but the tense wire coursing his body can only hold its shape fore so long.
Hachiro: You didn’t even attend his funeral. Wasn’t Nakajima one of your first investors?
Jubei: He was a terrified old man with pre-war money and no master to serve. He needed me.
Hachiro: Right, someone to coerce him into action. Discipline his for being too conservative.
Jubei: Get to the point… you were his disciple. Now you want to talk expenses.
Hachiro takes a long, blissful sip of tea. Masuda grips with enough force to shatter its porcelain.
Hachiro: Fine, I wanted to be nice for a change, Masuda-san. But if you want to be direct… the board wants to know more about this Jubeilation show.
Jubei: Such as how I funded it without using company funds?
Hachiro: You can’t keep penciling and erasing finances. Sooner or later, someone is going to ask questions. Someone who isn’t me.
Hachiro walks towards the door, leaving half a cup behind.
Jubei: If you don’t understand my business. You can take your shares and sell them to me.
Hachiro: I think I’ll stay… you have a knack for finding money where others aren’t looking.
Masuda lets aromatherapy transport him from the needs of his company to somewhere serene. Where no one but his own words coalesce.
Jubei: If they expect to see me crack, then APW hasn’t been paying attention. There is no weakness to Masuda Jubei. A name chiseled into the very bones of an otherwise starved promotion. They’d drown without me. Which is why this aimless tag match has nothing for me. I don’t like Wilds and I don’t trust him. We share sordid pasts, yes, but his effect on people is just disgusting. I will make due and win it for him. Because Masuda doesn’t lose.
Enhancing the experience, Jubei speaks from his heart while taping his fingers intermittently.
Jubei: Now we cue what will be an endless chain of weak insults from Charmaine. I’m ready for whatever she thinks Twitter can do to stop me. Influencer, inspiration… you don’t even understand why people follow your every move. Why they drop to their knees at your nagging words. It’s because people don’t know how to succeed. They don’t love you, Charmaine. They want to be you. And let’s throw out what makes you a god. Gods don’t feel for those worshipping them. They strike with impunity. If anyone in APW is a god—it’s me. A few million thumbprints won’t save you from what happens in my matches. I strike people down, you know, like all gods do. Find one that actually loves people. I’ll help you… those sort failed the test of time. Deities willing to crush opposition—only those kinds of gods survive. Love is weak.
Masuda takes a long sigh, letting the incense do its job.
Jubei: You need to take a page from your partner’s book. Dean Wolf isn’t caught up in what people think about his actions. He doesn’t waste time in vain hope of being an influencer. He ties his boots and fights. Why can’t you do the same? The more you try to decode what people feel, the more things that clutter a vision. Wolf has held the most tumultuous belt for twice now. If he spent more than a second trying to make people like him, child, the rest of his division would eat him alive. Admit that you’re just another dreamer blessed with athletic genes… maybe then you’ll have a chance against Jaice Wilds. I’m unreachable.
He reaches out and crushes the burning wick between his callous fingers.
Jubei: But I think it’s all just part of game theory. Only those bound by rules are destined to follow them. Masuda Corp knows this, and it’s why we are the dominant force holding this fragile company together. Charmaine is not a god; she’s weak. Dean Wolf is vulnerable. And my partner, Jaice Wilds, is delusional. I continue to outsmart everyone in this company because the rules no longer apply to me. After Smith Jones’s attack, in which he ruined my birthday cake, I realized there’s no reason to be altruistic with Alpha Pro-Wrestling. Nor any reason for me to reach out to fans in a loving way. I have the army and the power to ruin everything they love. The reason we have a match is because I allow there to be one. Monday will further prove that my reach knows no bounds, and that no one can stop me… Osama banzai.
