Translation: Darkness 03 — All Japan Pro Wrestling Tryout Arc

2026/03/04 wed
闇03章：翻訳Cloud

原文を確認します。原文確認完了。翻訳を開始します。闇03の英訳完了です。

翻訳上の処理メモ（確認用）：

固有名詞：初出時すべてローマ字＋注釈付き。2回目以降は注釈なし。渕さん（Fuchi-san）、ジャイアント馬場（Giant Baba）はそのまま英語圏でも通じる表記を優先。

特記した処理箇所：

• 「打突」→ Datotsu（造語のため訳さずそのまま残し、前後の説明で意味が分かる構成）

• 「高周波トレーニング」→ 原文末尾に章見出しとして — Kōshūha Training — として処理（次章への接続として残存）

• 「ボロは着てても心は錦」→ 直訳を捨て、英語圏で機能する表現 Tatters on my back, gold in my heart. で意訳

• ピーちゃんとのやりとり、ヤクザとの乱闘、警察取調室のシーン——すべて原文の荒さ・口語感そのまま維持

何か確認・修正があればどうぞ。

Darkness 03 — All Japan Pro Wrestling Tryout Arc

*Kawagoe, Saitama. Winter 1993.*
 
The die was cast. I had been training as hard as I could, eating until I was ready to throw up, pushing my body to get bigger. After coming back from the All Japan Pro Wrestling（全日本プロレス）office in Roppongi（an entertainment district in Tokyo）, I spent my days the same as always — buried in training.
 
The office clerk had told me there would be a document screening.
 
It's already December. A guy who barged in like a fool — they probably didn't even bother with me……
 
Right when I was thinking that, a single postcard arrived.
 
『Iwakami Tomoichirō（the narrator）— Document Screening: PASSED』
 
The rest was handwritten — instructions to come to Toda Sports Center.
 
This was only the very first step. And yet my vision blurred. Staring at that postcard, I cried my eyes out.
 
A guy with no brains, who had just kept going out of sheer desperation — something had come of it. These tears were one result: the feeling of being rewarded.
 
But I had only climbed one step of the staircase. I couldn't stay moved forever.
 
Next was the tryout. Still crying, I grabbed the bench press bar and started training without pause. Even a little more growth in this body……
 
Imagining myself climbing into that ring. Sweat bursting from my flesh. Every cell in my body screaming with joy. Yeah. This is it. Right now, every single cell in me is celebrating.
 
It was still only the document screening stage, but I went around telling everyone in the neighborhood.
 
First, I reported to the woman who ran Kagaya Cosmetics（加賀屋化粧品）on Ginza-dōri.
 
"That's wonderful, Tomo-chan. Your body just keeps getting bigger and bigger, doesn't it." "Heh, I've been training like crazy every day."
 
Her son, Takikawa Ken'ichi, was also genuinely happy for me.
 
"Ken-chin, let's go get steak." "Miya again?" "Hee hee, you know me too well."
 
Ken-chin and I often went together to Steak Miya on Route 254 Bypass for lunch. At that time of day you could eat hamburg steak or the Miya Set for around 500 yen, and rice was all-you-can-eat on top of that. For two guys with no money, there was no restaurant on earth more like paradise.
 
Next I went into Suga Doll Shop next door to Kagaya. I showed the first-round postcard to Suga Eiji-san, one year my senior, with obvious pride.
 
"Whoa, that's great. You were all skin and bones back then, Tomo-chan. You've really worked hard to build up your body." "I'm trying to keep growing without losing speed, so it's genuinely hard to put on weight."
 
That evening, there was a Renjakuchō neighborhood gathering at the nearby coffee shop 'Monsieur,' and I was called out by Yoshioka-san, a senior from the area. There were also members of the hayashi（traditional Japanese festival percussion music）group Suzume-kai（a traditional festival performance group）there, including my old man.
 
I told them about All Japan with my chest puffed up. But the Suzume-kai members, drunk on sake, looked at my body and burst out laughing.
 
"Tomoichirō… you as a pro wrestler? You'd only ever be the guy who gets beat up." "What are you talking about with that scrawny body. Stop doing reckless things and quietly take over Iwakami Dry Cleaning."
 
"……"
 
I had thought everyone would celebrate with open arms — instead it was the total opposite. Even my own father laughed at his son and kept drinking.
 
The only one who whispered "Keep at it" in my ear and clapped me on the shoulder was Hajime-san, seven years my senior. Ichiyanagi Hajime-san had taken over the Japanese confectionery shop Iseya, diagonally across from Rennenji Temple. Though it happened early — his father passed away from a brain illness, and he found himself having to take over the family business in his early twenties.
 
One senior can fire you up. I glared at the old men laughing and drinking, and swore in my heart: just you wait and see.
 
Yoshioka-san was drinking with Kubota Hiroko, a classmate from the same neighborhood, and waved me over. Next to her were Kaneko Mayumi and Kaneko Shūichi, the sister and brother from Kaneko Greengrocer's. I was surprised to learn that the Kubota and Kaneko families were apparently related — they're neighbors so they seem to mix often.
 
Shūichi in particular is four years younger than me — the same age as my youngest brother Iwakami Takahiko（his youngest brother）. Mayumi is the same age as my middle brother Iwakami Tetsuya（his younger brother）, two years below me. That's the second baby boom generation for you — families with only one child were rare. Just among classmates and upperclassmen and underclassmen's households, you could build an entire shopping street.
 
Occasions to drink with local classmates naturally multiplied. Just one more thing — if I passed the tryout, I'd finally become the wrestler I'd been longing to be.
 
The looks of pride people gave me. I hadn't actually made it yet, but I couldn't stop myself from getting a swollen head.
 
Up until now I had been half-assed at everything and had nothing to be proud of. The dream was no longer a dream — reality was one step away.
 
Showing the postcard to my classmates as I reported the news, they praised me. It felt really good being there. I couldn't control myself from getting a little too big for my boots.
 
When I said I was going to become a wrestler, a lot of people laughed at me. Once I actually became one — what kind of face would those people make to welcome me?
 
Once I passed the tryout, I'd be a wrestler belonging to All Japan Pro Wrestling.
 
Around this time I oddly hit it off with Hijkata Satoru — Bōzu（Hijikata Satoru, a friend of a cousin）— a classmate of my second cousin Wa-chan, two years my senior, and we started spending a lot of time together. I looked up to him and called him Bōzu-san, Bōzu-san. He had quit his computer company job and was unemployed, and was always hanging around in my room.
 
Since we had no money we mostly cooked for ourselves, but around this time there was a rice shortage and Thai rice was widely available. How do you make foul-tasting Thai rice taste good? At a time when I needed to be bulking up my body, this was literally a matter of life and death for me. I cooked for Bōzu, who was staying over, and we shared our meals.
 
When I tried to make Napolitan pasta and used about half the onions in the kitchen, my paternal aunt Pī-chan（his paternal aunt）caught me.
 
"You thieving bastard! Don't go stealing other people's vegetables!"
 
Over half an onion. She's going to call her own nephew a thief for that……
 
Bōzu told me it was better not to bother dealing with her, and the two of us pooled our coins and often went to nearby Jimmy Donuts（a coffee shop he had frequented since childhood）.
 
When I was alone, I'd head to the 24-hour supermarket Maruetsu late at night. Because that's when they sold half-price prepared foods and marked-down meat and vegetables with those stickers. If I didn't keep that up, my food costs were way too high — let alone gaining weight. Naturally almost everything I earned went to food.
 
With zero entertainment, I just kept chasing one thing: training my body. Not a shred of misery. When I lay sprawled out face-up from exhaustion, a gust of wind would brush over my chest. That alone was enough to make me feel happy.
 
Tatters on my back, gold in my heart. Exactly as the saying goes — my heart at least was full.
 
Sometimes when I went to Bōzu's place, his mother would have three proper meals ready for both of us. We were both practically unemployed, so money was everything. The fact that she treated us like proper human beings — I was deeply grateful for that.
 
So this is what a real mother looks like, I thought. I was a little envious of Bōzu for having a parent like that.
 
Even broke, I couldn't quit cigarettes. We'd often scrape together our loose change — once we hit over 220 yen, we'd buy a pack and share it. Bōzu, being senior to me, deliberately went along with my Seven Stars at the time.
 
Spending time with people who recognized you — it was really good. Friends who would go dutch on drinks even when money was tight. A pack of guys whose bodies were still young in their early twenties but who were always short on cash.
 
Even so, we enjoyed those days and I kept training.
 
On weekends, classmates would naturally gather. There was one problem though — we had a guy who turned violent when drunk.
 
Osawa Fumihiro（a friend from middle school）— a full ten centimeters taller than me. We'd been together through nine years of elementary and middle school.
 
Once a serious kid, he was now attending Komazawa University, and had picked up the habit of drinking. Of course I'd get drunk too, and so would everyone else. But the way he lost himself was not normal.
 
His drunken behavior was so bad the police were called roughly once out of every two outings.
 
At a game center with a UFO Catcher machine out front, there was a woman alone playing a game — and Osawa suddenly grabbed her ass.
 
"What are you doing… I can't believe this guy……" "Hey, what do you mean you can't believe it?"
 
Saying that, Osawa grabbed her without warning. A flat-out criminal act. He pulled shit like this whenever he was drunk, so it always turned into a huge scene.
 
The only one who could physically restrain him was me, so naturally whenever Osawa was drinking I got called in.
 
Then came the day of the tryout. I headed for Toda Sports Center.
 
I didn't know what to expect. I just had to throw everything I had at it, exactly as I was.
 
Inside, there were about twenty people who wanted to become pro wrestlers. Since it was before the show, the place was mostly empty except for those involved.
 
We were told to get into push-up position right then and there. Starting from one end, in groups of ten, we did push-ups counting out loud in big voices. As the count climbed — a hundred, two hundred — the order in which you had to shout your count came faster and faster.
 
One by one, people dropped out. By the time the count passed five hundred, I was just grinding through push-ups in a single-minded daze, yelling out numbers.
 
No room to even think about whose turn it was to count next. I just closed my eyes and kept going, counting out each rep.
 
"Alright, good."
 
A hand on my shoulder mid-set. I looked up.
 
"You're the only one who passed."
 
That's what I was told. I looked around. I was the only one left.
 
"You want to meet President Baba?"
 
Fuchi-san — the wrestler — said that with a grin.
 
A massive celebrity I'd only ever seen on TV. Of course I nodded hard.
 
I had all kinds of feelings about pro wrestling. It was the first thing in my life I had taken on with everything I had. I could throw all of that at him.
 
I walked toward the meeting with my head full of what I wanted to say.
 
"President… excuse me."
 
Fuchi-san knocked and opened the door. We were shown into the room, and there, in front of me, was Giant Baba — the president himself — sitting with his legs crossed.
 
He was genuinely huge. An unimaginable size.
 
Just like I'd seen on TV — he actually had a cigar in his mouth. So this is Giant Baba……
 
For all my build-up, I was overwhelmed the moment I saw him. I had so many things I wanted to say, so many things I wanted to convey — but my head went completely blank and I stood there frozen, unable to say a word.
 
I had never encountered a human being with this kind of presence before.
 
"……"
 
How much time passed? I couldn't say a single word. All I could do was stand there at attention.
 
President Baba set down his cigar and quietly opened his mouth.
 
"Do you have what it takes?"
 
Do I have what it takes…… of course I do. Did he know what I'd gone through just to get here.
 
Even so, there was something dreamlike about the whole thing.
 
You idiot…… the President is talking to you. Say something……
 
The best I could manage was to desperately wring it out from the bottom of my gut: "Yes!"
 
Extreme tension. Crushing pressure. I have absolutely no memory of how I got out of President Baba's room. By the time I came to, I was walking down the corridor with Fuchi-san.
 
"Want to stick around and watch the show?"
 
Fuchi-san said that. The thought hit me — I was about to see Jumbo Tsuruta（a legendary All Japan pro wrestler）and Misawa Mitsuharu（an All Japan pro wrestler）live, wrestlers I'd only ever seen on video or TV.
 
But I had passed the tryout, met President Baba, and actually exchanged words with him — even if just one. Snapping back from that surreal state, what I wanted more than anything was to race back home and tell everyone.
 
I politely declined. Fuchi-san told me to hand over the first-round postcard. I was instructed to come to the All Japan Pro Wrestling training house near Tama-Plaza Station at the end of December.
 
"Um… how do I get there?" "You're an impatient bastard. I'll write the address and contact info on this postcard right now. Let me think — I'll have Honda or Asako come pick you up, I'll put your name down."
 
"Thank you very much!"
 
Honda Tamon and Asako Satoru. Junior All Japan Pro Wrestling wrestlers who occasionally appeared on TV. I was about to become one of them……
 
In the distance I could see Misawa warming up. I parted from Fuchi-san and quietly approached.
 
"Mi… Misawa-san!"
 
I called out from behind, going for it. He slowly turned and looked at my face.
 
So pro wrestlers really have bodies this thick and massive……
 
Again I was overwhelmed. He could see I'd called out to him but had nothing to say. Misawa-san pulled up one corner of his mouth.
 
"Salaryman?" "N-no! I'm Iwakami Tomoichirō — I'll be in your care at All Japan starting now!"
 
"Sure, do your best." "Yes!"
 
A pat on the shoulder, and he started stretching again. I bowed deeply and left Toda Sports Center.
 
First I went home. Grandpa was there, along with Pī-chan — my father's younger sister — and Tetsuya, my middle brother. I reported the results to everyone.
 
Grandpa warned me not to get too full of myself.
 
Tetsuya was ecstatic. He probably never imagined that one video tape he'd shown me would lead to this.
 
Pī-chan said, "My swimming pool has kids who went to the national high school championships all over the place" — she had absolutely no intention of congratulating me on passing All Japan Pro Wrestling. Pī-chan, who had been at odds with me since we were students. Relationships stay twisted.
 
Could you not at least celebrate with me today……
 
"What are you talking about, Pī-chan! This is All Japan Pro Wrestling. All Japan!" "So what? My pool that I go to every day is full of kids who made it to nationals."
 
"What did you just say, you——!"
 
Outraged by the insult, I made a move toward her.
 
"Stop it, Tomoichirō!"
 
Grandpa held me back, and somehow I swallowed my anger.
 
Maybe I shouldn't expect a normal conversation from this woman. It was my own fault for trying to report anything to her.
 
Forget it. There are plenty of people who are happy for me today.
 
That night I called my classmates over and we drank until dawn. A result of one full year of pushing forward without stopping. Everyone celebrated.
 
Osawa got drunk and turned nasty again, police showed up after the bar called it in — but aside from that, it was a good time.
 
I kept training every day in preparation for the year-end training camp. I had been chasing strength since I was small. Even though I was only partway there, the way things were clicking into place was almost frightening.
 
But even if I built my body up, I had no background. No judo, no wrestling. Among pro wrestlers I'd be on the lighter end, shorter end too. I didn't have a trump card.
 
I wanted a signature technique I could call my own. While training, I started constantly thinking about what kind of move would suit me best.
 
While sewing a button back onto my clothes, I accidentally stuck the needle into my finger.
 
"……"
 
Without applying much force at all. The thinner the point, the more force concentrates at one spot. That's why it pierced my finger this easily.
 
There are all kinds of striking forms. Among them, the smaller the area of impact, the more force concentrates there……
 
A small flash hit my head.
 
In push-up position, I tried supporting myself on only my fingertips. Just fingertip push-ups. I lifted one finger at a time starting from the pinky, and eventually supported my whole body on just both thumbs.
 
Then I tried taking just the thumbs away and doing push-ups on the remaining four fingers — impossible. Meaning one thumb alone is stronger than the other four fingers combined.
 
Train the thumb. Drive a strike from it. Not a straight punch launched forward — a strange technique thrown from directly to the side. At close range, clinched up with an opponent, it could be done from right beside them.
 
Datotsu.

 
I got a cardboard box, treated it like an opponent, and tried the sideways strike.
 
A hole opened in the cardboard with a short jab. Just as I imagined.
 
This would only become effective in a clinch, bodies locked together. And in that position, the opponent would be letting his guard down. That's when you drive it — from a blind angle, from directly beside him, a piercing blow lands like a spike.
 
I named this strike Datotsu.
 
From that day, I added thumb training into my sessions.
 
Thumb push-ups. I repeatedly drove my thumb into an iron pillar. I filled a bucket with small stones and stabbed my thumb into it over and over. My nails split again and again, always covered in cuts. But this was right.
 
My signature strike — Datotsu — was being forged day by day into something tougher and more fearsome.
 
Takikawa Ken'ichi from Kagaya Cosmetics, my classmate since elementary and middle school, and I often went to eat together.
 
Taking the "Ken" from Ken'ichi, he'd been nicknamed Ken-chin since forever. He was a pro wrestling fan and a huge Tenyū Gen'ichirō fanatic. He had a bashful, modest streak — when you asked who his favorite wrestler was, he'd answer with a shy "Gen-chan……" He also said he liked Koshinaka Shiro and Kimura Kengo from the New Japan Pro Wrestling Anti-Wrestlers Alliance.
 
"Right now Tenyū is storming into New Japan — which side are you cheering for, Ken-chin?" "Hmm…… I guess Gen-chan after all……"
 
"Hey, Ken-chin, I'm hungry — wanna go eat?"
 
We'd often go out for meals between training sessions, the two of us ordering four servings of lunch at Steak Miya.
 
"Excuse me… is your party of four?" A server once asked us that in surprise. I'd pile on the free rice refills, just stuffing my stomach to the limit.
 
"Oh, and Ken-chin, sorry to ask, but could you help me take photos of my training?" "Sure, no problem."
 
He photographed me, and during breaks we'd talk pro wrestling to our heart's content.
 
The topic of Fukuda-sensei came up — my third-grade elementary school homeroom teacher — and when I said I'd love to see him again, Ken-chin told me "I know the shrine where Fukuda-sensei is" and gave me directions to a place in Ageo City. Among all the homeroom teachers I'd had, the ones I remembered most were Fukuda-sensei and Tanaka-sensei from elementary school, and Sakaki-sensei from high school.
 
It was still only the document screening and tryout stage, but I wanted people to see who I was now. And I wanted to be praised.
 
I wanted to meet Fukuda-sensei first — he had become a Shinto priest at a shrine.
 
From that desire, and since I was now past twenty, I decided to organize a class reunion for our third and fourth grade Sakura-gumi class and took it upon myself to contact everyone.
 
The key person — Fukuda-sensei — couldn't be reached, so we invited the teacher who came after him, Tanaka Mitsuhide-sensei. Tanaka-sensei was a monk at the temple Ichijō-in, just before Saitama Medical University. In other words, our third and fourth grade class had quite the unusual run of homeroom teachers — a Shinto priest followed by a Buddhist monk.
 
I drove to Ichijō-in for the first time in a while and went to the main hall. Tanaka-sensei came out from the back.
 
"Wait — is that Iwakami? You've gotten huge."
 
I reported that I'd passed All Japan Pro Wrestling, and told him I was organizing a class reunion — please come. Through that, I also got back in touch with Shibazaki Yoshiaki — Shiba-chin — and Kameda Naotaka, who had scattered to different middle schools. With Tanaka-sensei present, the reunion more than a decade in the making was full of nostalgia and laughter.
 
At this reunion I ran into classmate Saitō Miwa again, and she had grown into someone truly beautiful — I was smitten. Between training and part-time work I asked her out to eat often. She even celebrated my birthday with me, but Miwa had a boyfriend, and in the end she chose him and turned me down.
 
I haven't made anything of myself yet. Women are still too early for me. I told myself that, and added more training hours.
 
A few days before the All Japan training camp. A phone call came in from Tani-sensei, my first-year high school homeroom teacher.
 
"Iwakami, are you doing alright?"
 
I told him I was about to go to the All Japan training camp. I expected him to be happy for me — but Tani-sensei's reaction was different.
 
"Can you do anything about that day?" "Huh? What do you mean, do anything about it?"
 
"I mean can you cancel that training camp appointment. Is there no way out?" "Huh? Sensei… I'm going to the All Japan camp that day. What's going on?"
 
"Grand Master Ryūhō Ōkawa is renting out Tokyo Dome for a very important eve-of-event ceremony. I thought you might want to come too, Iwakami……"
 
Tani-sensei, while still a high school teacher, had gone deep into Ōkawa Ryūhō's Happy Science.
 
"Um…… Sensei…… are you alright in the head?"
 
"What are you trying to accomplish by going through pro wrestling? What do you want to say to the world?" "Sensei… aren't you looking down on the professional world quite a lot right now? I'm desperate just trying to hold on in that world!"
 
"That's exactly why Grand Master Ōkawa's eve-of-event ceremony would——" "Sensei! Frankly, this is a huge nuisance to me! Don't call me again!"
 
I got emotional and hung up. If he was preaching this stuff to his students at Seibudai High School, that was a serious problem.
 
I called Sakaki-sensei and asked about Tani-sensei's situation.
 
"Yeah, rough time you've had, Iwakami. Leave Tani-san alone. Rather than that — make some time and come visit us again."
 
That guy Tani — is he pushing religion on his students at the school too? I don't know what happened to him, but what a hopeless excuse for a teacher.
 
Blindly following a religion is a person's own business. But when you push it on others without any regard for their situation — calling it wonderful — the religion itself instantly becomes suspect.
 
If he had honestly congratulated me on passing and said let's meet up, I'll buy you a drink — I wouldn't have gotten this worked up.
 
"Anyway, Iwakami, when are you coming over next?" "I'll come any time you call, sensei."
 
Sakaki-sensei and I had kept in touch after graduation, and I was often invited over — treated to his wife's home cooking. His daughter Yuka-chan had been born recently too. By the time that girl grows up, I need to be doing well enough to be on TV.
 
I hung up, put on my training wear, and went out for a run.
 
Since I'd be living at the camp for a while, my classmates invited me out for a combination celebration and farewell drink.
 
I was genuinely happy they wanted to celebrate. I was about to put myself in a brutal environment — a little fun was alright.
 
The party started at Tsubohachi on the second floor near Hon-Kawagoe Station（in central Kawagoe）— this place had become our regular spot. Classmates cheering me on.
 
"Wait — Iwakami-kun?" "Hmm…… Nakano, is that you?"
 
Nakano Nozomi — a girl I'd worked with part-time at Kentucky Fried Chicken, where I'd gotten fired after a mere month and a half in high school. We ran into each other by chance inside the bar.
 
"It's been so long. Hasn't your body gotten huge?"
 
Nakano realized how much time had passed since high school, and we hit it off at once. Her friends who'd come to drink with her joined our table.
 
The old stories naturally turned to the time I got fired from Kentucky. The assistant manager, Nakashima, who had forced the high-school-girl part-timers — including her — into drinking parties and kept up what amounted to sexual harassment. Back then, several of the girls had come to me saying please do something about this Nakashima.
 
I was a second-year high school student who attended those parties, and I quietly tried to stop Nakashima's behavior. When I went to the bathroom, Nakashima came in after me and shouted, "You punk kid, who the hell do you think you are?" — so I knocked him flat right there.
 
That's the incident that got me fired from Kentucky, after which I went to work at the gas station Yamaguchi Yuzai（a gas station where he worked part-time）.
 
To Nakano and the others, I was the hero who had come to their rescue. And that same person was now about to go to All Japan Pro Wrestling.
 
"When you're famous and they interview you about your first love — say my name."
 
The party with me as the undisputed star of the night was a great time. Right next to us, Osawa was ignored by the girls and was chugging shōchū straight from the bottle. His eyes had gone glassy — the warning sign that he was about to flip into drunk-violent mode.
 
Sure enough, Osawa started harassing Nakano and the others. When they tried to push him off, he grabbed them and started groping their chests.
 
"Hey, Osawa! That's enough. Nakano — I'll cover the bill, take your friends and go." "Yeah… sorry about this, Iwakami-kun."
 
I pried Osawa off and got Nakano and the others out. Then Osawa bolted outside chasing after them.
 
When I tried to follow, the staff stopped me for the bill. No choice — I paid, then went out.
 
Outside, the girls were nowhere in sight. Instead I saw Osawa picking a fight with three guys on the street. I rushed over to get between them and apologize.
 
While I was doing that, Osawa let out a strange shriek and ran into the road. A car coming from the other direction slammed on the brakes. Osawa threw himself at the stopped car and fell into the street.
 
The woman in the driver's seat had her eyes wide open, her whole body shaking.
 
"Please just go! Don't worry about it — this is our fault……"
 
Osawa got up, let out another shriek, and ran off in a different direction. No matter how loud I yelled at him, he clearly couldn't hear a thing. Jesus……
 
Up ahead, a dozen or so yakuza came filing out of a bar building. Every one of them had a punch perm.
 
"Waaah!"
 
Osawa charged at one of them, grabbed both his shoulders, and slammed him straight into a glass wall. The glass shattered from the impact.
 
"The hell do you think you're doing, you little shit——!"
 
The other yakuza went berserk at the sudden attack. Twelve-plus men punched and kicked Osawa.
 
Obviously it was the drunk-out-of-his-mind Osawa who was in the wrong.
 
I watched for a while, but the one-sided beating showed no sign of stopping. Come on, isn't this too much?
 
The training camp was just around the corner……
 
But was I really okay walking away and leaving a classmate to get beaten like this, even if he was the one in the wrong? What had I been seeking strength for?
 
Pretend I don't see it because they're yakuza? That's not right.
 
"Hey, knock it off."
 
I stepped in. The yakuza swung at me without even asking who I was.
 
"Who the hell are you?!" "You've gone far enough. Stop it."
 
A punch landed on my cheek. This counts as self-defense, right……
 
They kept swinging so I had no choice — I used foot sweeps to peel them off Osawa one by one. I wasn't a pro yet, but the physical difference from civilians was obvious. I didn't throw a single punch — I focused entirely on pulling the yakuza away from Osawa.
 
But there were over twelve of them, and it was ugly. While I was holding back a few, someone else would kick Osawa in the face.
 
Finally I threw myself on top of Osawa to cover him, and they beat and kicked every part of me indiscriminately. Give me a break — I'm not even resisting……
 
The attack stopped. I was trying to get up when a police car arrived with its siren blaring.
 
I didn't throw any punches. I only tried to stop a fight.
 
No matter how desperately I tried to explain, I was cuffed and dragged to the police station by force.
 
In the interrogation room I calmly explained everything from start to finish, and kept insisting I hadn't used my hands. In the next room, Osawa was screaming and thrashing around.
 
"You've been drinking." "Officer, I am completely sober!"
 
"The guy next door is pretty wasted."
 
"……"
 
Because I'd been drinking, the police didn't believe a word I said.
 
"Occupation?"
 
"……. Unemployed right now, but I'm about to go to All Japan's training camp." "What's that?"
 
"I passed the All Japan Pro Wrestling tryout a few days ago and I'm about to enter the training house! That's why I've got a pro's mindset. I never threw a single punch! Ask the yakuza if you don't believe me." "Huh? You're a wrestler? Is that why you've got such a big body. We've only got you and your buddy in custody."
 
"Are you serious?! They beat the hell out of an unresisting person and you couldn't even catch one of them?!" "Wait here."
 
"……"
 
Left alone for a while. Next door, Osawa kept on raging. Because of that idiot, I've ended up in a mess. Truly.
 
I should have just ditched him and gone home. Osawa, whose drinking never got any better no matter how many times I warned him. I never imagined he'd trip me up like this, just before the camp.
 
I was letting out a deep sigh when the officer from before came in.
 
"Here, take it." "Take what?"
 
"Get out there." "Tch…… fine!"
 
He shoved a phone at me and I grabbed it roughly. Who the hell did they call?
 
I thought that — and then I answered. On the other end was President Giant Baba. I desperately explained the situation. I screamed that I hadn't done anything violent, that I was completely innocent.
 
"You don't need to come anymore."
 
"Wha…… President!"
 
The line went dead. Those cold words cut straight through my chest.
 
"President!"
 
I kept screaming into the receiver at someone who couldn't hear me anymore. Everything I had worked for — destroyed over this?
 
"……"
 
The receiver slipped out of my hand. My head went completely blank. I stood there in a daze.
 
Osawa's thrashing and the officers shouting at him snapped me back.
 
"……"
 
Because of that idiot, everything was ruined. He'd done something truly, thoroughly unforgivable.
 
"Hey, what do you think you're doing standing up?"
 
I had gotten to my feet without realizing it. When I moved toward the next interrogation room, several officers blocked my way.
 
"Get out of the way……"
 
They were in the way, so I shoved them aside. When Osawa spotted me he shouted, "Iwa-yan, let's go get those guys!"
 
Because of this moron, everything I had been working toward was gone.
 
"Hey, where do you think you're going?" "Stop right there!"
 
I paid no attention to the officers trying to stop me and moved toward Osawa. Several officers threw themselves onto my body.
 
My body was restrained and I was forcibly dragged out of the interrogation room.
 
Get off me, all of you……
 
At this rate I can't kill this idiot. I shook them all off and moved toward the room again.
 
Again, several officers pinned my body down.
 
This time I didn't resist, and was dragged back to my own interrogation room. Is this really okay? Of course it isn't!
 
I stared at the receiver lying on the floor.
 
— Kōshūha Training —