Post by MYŌJIN on Feb 24, 2021 23:39:23 GMT -5
“...What?”
The only word he could get through his lips as the news hit his ears. It felt like his heart had suddenly stopped. Like the world around him had gone silent. His vision felt blurry. It was like a movie when an explosion went off near the protagonist- Hell, it even felt like that. A bombshell had been dropped on him. The blonde looked at the CT scans sitting in front of him- specifically the ones detailing the muscles and bones within his shoulder, his right shoulder.
“Mr. Kuromiya… You're looking at not only multiple minor injuries throughout your entire body for not taking rest- but your rotator cuff tear has seemingly worsened. It's the cause of the pain you felt after your match.” The doctor explained, an older man who spoke calmly but with slight concern. Probably for the youthful wrestler's reaction.
That stung to hear.
While he already knew it deep down, it was upsetting to be reminded that his own carelessness had caused this. Taking a deep breath, he placed his hands against his mouth and took a deep breath. Considering how much his heart rattled against his chest, he genuinely felt like he was close to having a heart attack.
“Just… just get to the point. Please.”
“Well.. The good news is that all these injuries are not severe and don't require surgery. They just require some rest and time away from in-ring competition….-”
“How long?”
The doctor paused. He sat the CT scans against his desk in his office. MYOJIN bit his lip, his foot tapping in anxiety.
“You're going to have to miss about a month from wrestling.”
There it was.
There was the worst fear that he had confirmed. He was going to be missing The Crowning, the show he won the Legacy Gauntlet briefcase for.. He was missing his shot at the Legacy Championship. Another opportunity gone out the window, just like that. With that, he felt his entire posture slump. Any hope or optimism within him was gone instantly.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck… FUCK.
“I know this is hard news for you-”
“Thanks for being honest with me.” Was all that the young wrestler said as he got up from the bed, grabbing his jacket and head toward the door.
He made it back to his hotel room. Packing bags as he knew he'd be heading home, as he wouldn't be able to make it to what was once the biggest match of his career. There was nothing left to really be said on the matter. Once again, somehow, what he sought was out of his grasp. Once again, he lost.
When did he ever really win anyways?
What did being the first person with ten wins really mean if he had nothing to show for it. What did working hard mean if nothing came out of it? Why did he continue going at this if all he received was belittlement from peers and patronizing pats on the shoulder from ‘supporters’ telling him to dust himself off and keep trying? He could already imagine what people would be saying to him once the news became public about his injury.
We're so sorry.
We wish you the best.
You're in our thoughts and prayers.
Half-hearted attempts to seem genuine and supportive. He heard it all before. All of this, all of it felt like it was for nothing. The question really at this point was… Why?
Why continue to play hero?
He didn't feel sorry for himself like he had times before. No, this was different. It felt like he had reached his limit. No more telling himself that there would be a next time. No more smiling for the cameras and telling everyone that he was fine, that he'd pull through and keep trying like the plucky little golden boyscout he was supposed to be.
There was a burning anger, one that he wasn't sure how to describe. After trying so hard to be some sort of, what, role model? He had ended up losing sight of the entire reason he continued to fight in the first place.
Why did he want to wrestle originally…? Had he forgotten?
Something needed to change.
He just didn't know what yet.
February 14th.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
He could hear someone knocking, but hopefully ignoring whoever was there would work. Despite having a good idea of who it probably was.
Emotions were a nuisance. More often than not did they usually manage to overrule intelligence and common sense. Logically, the blonde knew that spending his night watching The Crowning live would do more harm to himself than good. Logically, he knew that by the end of it- All he'd feel was envy and further anger. He knew that he should've been there. He knew that he should've been able to compete. He SHOULD have been in the Legacy Chamber.
But he wasn't. And the reason he wasn't? Was because of himself. Was because he, for some stupid fucking reason, felt entitled to constantly show up and wrestle and ask to have a match. Like it was his responsibility to show up to a Proving Ground every single show. Wrestling through beatings and injuries he had gone through was on him.
He did this to himself.
Just his luck, right?
It was a late night in San Diego, as Shouta sat in his apartment. The TV was on as he stared with what was borderline contempt. Most of the matches passed. Fucking Daniel Horror of all people is a inaugural champion. Big Drip, a team he beated with Zane, earned a shot at the tag titles. Indy Darling choked as to be expected at this point. Warstein as expected resorted to drugging an ppponent to get a crown Rock Johnson more than likely bought from Party City. Watson apologized and said he hoped that his shoulder would get better in a promo.
Yeah, right. Of course now that Shouta wasn't in the match that he ‘didn't earn a shot in that the Grand Champion felt differently.
Though now all of that was over. It was time for the big, grand, finale of the night. The Legacy Chamber.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Whoever that was at the door was annoyingly persistent. Shouta took a deep breath and got up, he walked to the door and opened it. There was that familiar, slightly judgemental frown that he expected from his older sister, Akira.
“You haven't been answering my texts.”
“Usually people can take that as a hint.”
Without another word, she stepped into his home- without permission he may add. She looked over to his TV and simply frowned. “Why are you watching this? You know it's only going to upset you more. How's the girl you've been seeing, Himari, anyways-?”
“What do you want?” He firmly asked. Akira raised an eyebrow toward him, she clearly hadn't expected such a hostile mood.
“I don't want anything. I'm checking up on my little brother because he decided to shut himself off from everyone because he's in his feelings. Shouta, cut the shit and act your age. Talk to me.”
He crossed his arms, “I'm really not in the mood for this. If you only came here to be a bitch, you can leave.”
Akira sighed, walked toward, and thumped him hard between the eyes.
“What the hell-?!”
“Are you done with your tantrum yet?”
“....I should be out there, Akira. I should be fighting for the Legacy title like everyone else in that chamber. I'm so tired of feeling like every forward step I take, I end up two steps back! I always just end up as a afterthought.” He ran his hand through and stared at the screen, though his sister picked up the remote and turned it off.
She stepped in front of him, simply shaking her head. “And do you think whining about it and complaining will do anything to fix it? Injuries happen, Shouta. They're never convenient. They always come at the worse times. All you can do is just pick yourself back up and try-”
“I DON'T want to hear it.” The blonde shouted suddenly.
She paused, then closed her mouth as she stared at him.
“I'm so sick of people giving me some cheap pep talk that's supposed to make me just suddenly feel better. I'm so tired of people going ‘it could always be worse'. What will fix it then? Going out there again and again with the same attitude and happy-go-lucky act and expecting things will change?”
He placed his hands on his hips, then sat down. “I don't know what I'm doing anymore or what I'm trying to accomplish…”
“Well, that's something you need to really think about and ask yourself before you go back to the ring. What's the reason that you wrestle? What's keeping you coming back? If you really still want to this, if you really don't want to call it quits- You can't just go out there moody and unsure of yourself.”
Shouta stayed silent, placing a hand to his chin as he bit his thumbnail.
Akira walked to the door, “I'll give you your space. I get it, you need time to figure yourself out. But this? This isn't going to work. This isn't you. This is the frustration talking.”
She patted him on the shoulder before heading toward the door. He didn't say anything as she closed it behind him.
He turned his TV back on to see Elena DeDraca become the very first Legacy Champion. His hands curled into fists as he stared while she celebrated on screen. He could only wonder, if he had been there…
But there wasn't a point in speculation and wondering what could've been, was there? Instead, he had to look ahead.
Something needed to change.
He needed to change.
Guess who's baaaaaaack, sweethearts?
Bonjour! It's yours truly, the Shining Star!
Not that anyone really cares though, right?
Oh, sorry, I’m supposed to say something positive. Maybe something about how Paris is my favorite city. Well, I mean, France does have some bomb ass cocktails.
Maybe should I be acting like nothing’s wrong and that I’m completely fine. That I’m all ready to go and kick butt again. Maybe put on a smile for everyone.
Yeah, no.
Everyone saw the news about my shoulder after the last Proving Ground. I didn't win that triple threat, and while I wasn't pinned, I’m more than positive that I ended up leaving as the one the worst off. I had a tear in my rotator cuff that I wrestled through for most of the year. Going through a cage ceiling and some tables at Bloodbath made it worse. Wrestling two matches at Unbreakable Resolution made it worse. It seems like all it took was just one inconsequential bad landing on it for it to finally give out. I missed The Crowning. This meaning I missed my chance to become Legacy Champion. Congratulations to DeDraca, by the way.
And you know, being off for so long, about what… four weeks? It left me a lot of time to think. For starters, that putting my body in such a position and never taking a moment to rest was such an idiotic idea. That and I had some time to think about my career, specifically here at Project: Honor.
I’m pissed. I’m pissed at how it seems like some of the most dishonorable kind of people here tend to get ahead, minus a good few. I’m so tired of feeling like all the effort I put in is for nothing. I’m tired of being looked down upon. With people loving to take shots at me while I’m off licking my wounds just because they see me as pathetic. But you know what, maybe they’re all ont they're onto something. I mean, after all, I've been on nearly every show. I fought two matches on a single PPV, putting myself through so much hell, for the sake of everyone at home's entertainment.
Yet, I'm still sitting here. Despite all the bitches that ran off with their tail between their legs because they lost a match at The Crowning, I'm still here. I've never ran off, I've never backed down from any challenge, and I've always come back for more no matter how many have tried to discourage me. I will never flake. I don't yell at management every chance I get when the most trivial of things isn't within my liking. I don't cry about there being some sort of conspiracy because I didn't win a championship.
My reward? Having to tape up my shoulder now before I head to the ring every match. Leaving empty handed every single time.
I have nothing to show for my effort. Though maybe my effort just isn't good enough. So I sat at home, I got cleared to wrestle again- I had won a few matches over at OWA and defended my XHF title again. I still didn't feel right or accomplished. The audience cheering for me just didn't hit like it used to. I still have one thing on my mind and it's asking myself again and again…
What do I have to change about myself? What do I have to do to finally accomplish what I should have done months ago?
I think I forgot myself. I think in trying to please all the fans and being this fun, happy, cute bubbly underdog that makes for a good cheer. I got too caught up trying to be a showman that I lost my killer instinct. My focus had been gone.
I'm done pleasing others at my own expense. I'm done letting opinions of people that don't even know me affect me. Popularity is fun, but it's overrated.
I'm not a poster boy.
But all that's done. This is a restart for me. I'm back, and I have the chance to return with a win against…
Uh, who? Seth Blackheart? The Devil, Himself?
Really?
...Seth Blackheart doesn't roll off the tongue well. How about I call you great value Davey Havok with a beard? Eh, actually that's a bit long. I'll stick with just calling you Seth.
Moving past the fact that your name is one step above someone's Tumblr OC for Tokyo Ghoul, you haven't done much in a bit, have you? Haven't appeared for many matches, haven't done any much wrestling. You appeared at Unbreakable Resolution for a little bit and just disappeared, what's up with that?
What's up with most of you big, bad wolf wannabe types always being the biggest losers?
I'm not sure if you heard, but if you're looking to join the AV Club, they haven't been around since November. Since now you still haven't opened your mouth to say anything, which isn't surprising.
There's something I really hate about your type. It's always you brooding and gothic clowns who think sounding an edgy and putting on eyeliner (P.S. I wear it better than you.) Makes you seem like some sort of intimidating beast. You guys tend to take yourselves way too seriously for people who grumble and ramble on about how you're going to hurt your opponent so bad and how you should be seen as a scary threat.
Yeah, I'm not at one-hundred-percent. I don't doubt at all that you're going to target my injury. For you, you're probably seeing this as an opportunity to finally get a much needed win.
But let me make this clear. The day I get beat by a incel who calls himself the Devil? Is the day that I hang up my boots and retire.
This is my first match back in Project: Honor, but I'm far from rusty. I've spent time making sure my skills were as sharp as ever. I'm ready to get back into the swing of things. Beating you? Well, that's just the start.
I'm tired of losing my chances. I'm tired of being pushed around. So, I'm going take out all that frustration- all the anger I've pent up at home, and I'm going to let it EXPLODE.
Basically, Seth, what I'm trying to say is- I'm going to kick your head off.
The only word he could get through his lips as the news hit his ears. It felt like his heart had suddenly stopped. Like the world around him had gone silent. His vision felt blurry. It was like a movie when an explosion went off near the protagonist- Hell, it even felt like that. A bombshell had been dropped on him. The blonde looked at the CT scans sitting in front of him- specifically the ones detailing the muscles and bones within his shoulder, his right shoulder.
“Mr. Kuromiya… You're looking at not only multiple minor injuries throughout your entire body for not taking rest- but your rotator cuff tear has seemingly worsened. It's the cause of the pain you felt after your match.” The doctor explained, an older man who spoke calmly but with slight concern. Probably for the youthful wrestler's reaction.
That stung to hear.
While he already knew it deep down, it was upsetting to be reminded that his own carelessness had caused this. Taking a deep breath, he placed his hands against his mouth and took a deep breath. Considering how much his heart rattled against his chest, he genuinely felt like he was close to having a heart attack.
“Just… just get to the point. Please.”
“Well.. The good news is that all these injuries are not severe and don't require surgery. They just require some rest and time away from in-ring competition….-”
“How long?”
The doctor paused. He sat the CT scans against his desk in his office. MYOJIN bit his lip, his foot tapping in anxiety.
“You're going to have to miss about a month from wrestling.”
There it was.
There was the worst fear that he had confirmed. He was going to be missing The Crowning, the show he won the Legacy Gauntlet briefcase for.. He was missing his shot at the Legacy Championship. Another opportunity gone out the window, just like that. With that, he felt his entire posture slump. Any hope or optimism within him was gone instantly.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck… FUCK.
“I know this is hard news for you-”
“Thanks for being honest with me.” Was all that the young wrestler said as he got up from the bed, grabbing his jacket and head toward the door.
He made it back to his hotel room. Packing bags as he knew he'd be heading home, as he wouldn't be able to make it to what was once the biggest match of his career. There was nothing left to really be said on the matter. Once again, somehow, what he sought was out of his grasp. Once again, he lost.
When did he ever really win anyways?
What did being the first person with ten wins really mean if he had nothing to show for it. What did working hard mean if nothing came out of it? Why did he continue going at this if all he received was belittlement from peers and patronizing pats on the shoulder from ‘supporters’ telling him to dust himself off and keep trying? He could already imagine what people would be saying to him once the news became public about his injury.
We're so sorry.
We wish you the best.
You're in our thoughts and prayers.
Half-hearted attempts to seem genuine and supportive. He heard it all before. All of this, all of it felt like it was for nothing. The question really at this point was… Why?
Why continue to play hero?
He didn't feel sorry for himself like he had times before. No, this was different. It felt like he had reached his limit. No more telling himself that there would be a next time. No more smiling for the cameras and telling everyone that he was fine, that he'd pull through and keep trying like the plucky little golden boyscout he was supposed to be.
There was a burning anger, one that he wasn't sure how to describe. After trying so hard to be some sort of, what, role model? He had ended up losing sight of the entire reason he continued to fight in the first place.
Why did he want to wrestle originally…? Had he forgotten?
Something needed to change.
He just didn't know what yet.
February 14th.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
He could hear someone knocking, but hopefully ignoring whoever was there would work. Despite having a good idea of who it probably was.
Emotions were a nuisance. More often than not did they usually manage to overrule intelligence and common sense. Logically, the blonde knew that spending his night watching The Crowning live would do more harm to himself than good. Logically, he knew that by the end of it- All he'd feel was envy and further anger. He knew that he should've been there. He knew that he should've been able to compete. He SHOULD have been in the Legacy Chamber.
But he wasn't. And the reason he wasn't? Was because of himself. Was because he, for some stupid fucking reason, felt entitled to constantly show up and wrestle and ask to have a match. Like it was his responsibility to show up to a Proving Ground every single show. Wrestling through beatings and injuries he had gone through was on him.
He did this to himself.
Just his luck, right?
It was a late night in San Diego, as Shouta sat in his apartment. The TV was on as he stared with what was borderline contempt. Most of the matches passed. Fucking Daniel Horror of all people is a inaugural champion. Big Drip, a team he beated with Zane, earned a shot at the tag titles. Indy Darling choked as to be expected at this point. Warstein as expected resorted to drugging an ppponent to get a crown Rock Johnson more than likely bought from Party City. Watson apologized and said he hoped that his shoulder would get better in a promo.
Yeah, right. Of course now that Shouta wasn't in the match that he ‘didn't earn a shot in that the Grand Champion felt differently.
Though now all of that was over. It was time for the big, grand, finale of the night. The Legacy Chamber.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Whoever that was at the door was annoyingly persistent. Shouta took a deep breath and got up, he walked to the door and opened it. There was that familiar, slightly judgemental frown that he expected from his older sister, Akira.
“You haven't been answering my texts.”
“Usually people can take that as a hint.”
Without another word, she stepped into his home- without permission he may add. She looked over to his TV and simply frowned. “Why are you watching this? You know it's only going to upset you more. How's the girl you've been seeing, Himari, anyways-?”
“What do you want?” He firmly asked. Akira raised an eyebrow toward him, she clearly hadn't expected such a hostile mood.
“I don't want anything. I'm checking up on my little brother because he decided to shut himself off from everyone because he's in his feelings. Shouta, cut the shit and act your age. Talk to me.”
He crossed his arms, “I'm really not in the mood for this. If you only came here to be a bitch, you can leave.”
Akira sighed, walked toward, and thumped him hard between the eyes.
“What the hell-?!”
“Are you done with your tantrum yet?”
“....I should be out there, Akira. I should be fighting for the Legacy title like everyone else in that chamber. I'm so tired of feeling like every forward step I take, I end up two steps back! I always just end up as a afterthought.” He ran his hand through and stared at the screen, though his sister picked up the remote and turned it off.
She stepped in front of him, simply shaking her head. “And do you think whining about it and complaining will do anything to fix it? Injuries happen, Shouta. They're never convenient. They always come at the worse times. All you can do is just pick yourself back up and try-”
“I DON'T want to hear it.” The blonde shouted suddenly.
She paused, then closed her mouth as she stared at him.
“I'm so sick of people giving me some cheap pep talk that's supposed to make me just suddenly feel better. I'm so tired of people going ‘it could always be worse'. What will fix it then? Going out there again and again with the same attitude and happy-go-lucky act and expecting things will change?”
He placed his hands on his hips, then sat down. “I don't know what I'm doing anymore or what I'm trying to accomplish…”
“Well, that's something you need to really think about and ask yourself before you go back to the ring. What's the reason that you wrestle? What's keeping you coming back? If you really still want to this, if you really don't want to call it quits- You can't just go out there moody and unsure of yourself.”
Shouta stayed silent, placing a hand to his chin as he bit his thumbnail.
Akira walked to the door, “I'll give you your space. I get it, you need time to figure yourself out. But this? This isn't going to work. This isn't you. This is the frustration talking.”
She patted him on the shoulder before heading toward the door. He didn't say anything as she closed it behind him.
He turned his TV back on to see Elena DeDraca become the very first Legacy Champion. His hands curled into fists as he stared while she celebrated on screen. He could only wonder, if he had been there…
But there wasn't a point in speculation and wondering what could've been, was there? Instead, he had to look ahead.
Something needed to change.
He needed to change.
Guess who's baaaaaaack, sweethearts?
Bonjour! It's yours truly, the Shining Star!
Not that anyone really cares though, right?
Oh, sorry, I’m supposed to say something positive. Maybe something about how Paris is my favorite city. Well, I mean, France does have some bomb ass cocktails.
Maybe should I be acting like nothing’s wrong and that I’m completely fine. That I’m all ready to go and kick butt again. Maybe put on a smile for everyone.
Yeah, no.
Everyone saw the news about my shoulder after the last Proving Ground. I didn't win that triple threat, and while I wasn't pinned, I’m more than positive that I ended up leaving as the one the worst off. I had a tear in my rotator cuff that I wrestled through for most of the year. Going through a cage ceiling and some tables at Bloodbath made it worse. Wrestling two matches at Unbreakable Resolution made it worse. It seems like all it took was just one inconsequential bad landing on it for it to finally give out. I missed The Crowning. This meaning I missed my chance to become Legacy Champion. Congratulations to DeDraca, by the way.
And you know, being off for so long, about what… four weeks? It left me a lot of time to think. For starters, that putting my body in such a position and never taking a moment to rest was such an idiotic idea. That and I had some time to think about my career, specifically here at Project: Honor.
I’m pissed. I’m pissed at how it seems like some of the most dishonorable kind of people here tend to get ahead, minus a good few. I’m so tired of feeling like all the effort I put in is for nothing. I’m tired of being looked down upon. With people loving to take shots at me while I’m off licking my wounds just because they see me as pathetic. But you know what, maybe they’re all ont they're onto something. I mean, after all, I've been on nearly every show. I fought two matches on a single PPV, putting myself through so much hell, for the sake of everyone at home's entertainment.
Yet, I'm still sitting here. Despite all the bitches that ran off with their tail between their legs because they lost a match at The Crowning, I'm still here. I've never ran off, I've never backed down from any challenge, and I've always come back for more no matter how many have tried to discourage me. I will never flake. I don't yell at management every chance I get when the most trivial of things isn't within my liking. I don't cry about there being some sort of conspiracy because I didn't win a championship.
My reward? Having to tape up my shoulder now before I head to the ring every match. Leaving empty handed every single time.
I have nothing to show for my effort. Though maybe my effort just isn't good enough. So I sat at home, I got cleared to wrestle again- I had won a few matches over at OWA and defended my XHF title again. I still didn't feel right or accomplished. The audience cheering for me just didn't hit like it used to. I still have one thing on my mind and it's asking myself again and again…
What do I have to change about myself? What do I have to do to finally accomplish what I should have done months ago?
I think I forgot myself. I think in trying to please all the fans and being this fun, happy, cute bubbly underdog that makes for a good cheer. I got too caught up trying to be a showman that I lost my killer instinct. My focus had been gone.
I'm done pleasing others at my own expense. I'm done letting opinions of people that don't even know me affect me. Popularity is fun, but it's overrated.
I'm not a poster boy.
But all that's done. This is a restart for me. I'm back, and I have the chance to return with a win against…
Uh, who? Seth Blackheart? The Devil, Himself?
Really?
...Seth Blackheart doesn't roll off the tongue well. How about I call you great value Davey Havok with a beard? Eh, actually that's a bit long. I'll stick with just calling you Seth.
Moving past the fact that your name is one step above someone's Tumblr OC for Tokyo Ghoul, you haven't done much in a bit, have you? Haven't appeared for many matches, haven't done any much wrestling. You appeared at Unbreakable Resolution for a little bit and just disappeared, what's up with that?
What's up with most of you big, bad wolf wannabe types always being the biggest losers?
I'm not sure if you heard, but if you're looking to join the AV Club, they haven't been around since November. Since now you still haven't opened your mouth to say anything, which isn't surprising.
There's something I really hate about your type. It's always you brooding and gothic clowns who think sounding an edgy and putting on eyeliner (P.S. I wear it better than you.) Makes you seem like some sort of intimidating beast. You guys tend to take yourselves way too seriously for people who grumble and ramble on about how you're going to hurt your opponent so bad and how you should be seen as a scary threat.
Yeah, I'm not at one-hundred-percent. I don't doubt at all that you're going to target my injury. For you, you're probably seeing this as an opportunity to finally get a much needed win.
But let me make this clear. The day I get beat by a incel who calls himself the Devil? Is the day that I hang up my boots and retire.
This is my first match back in Project: Honor, but I'm far from rusty. I've spent time making sure my skills were as sharp as ever. I'm ready to get back into the swing of things. Beating you? Well, that's just the start.
I'm tired of losing my chances. I'm tired of being pushed around. So, I'm going take out all that frustration- all the anger I've pent up at home, and I'm going to let it EXPLODE.
Basically, Seth, what I'm trying to say is- I'm going to kick your head off.