The screen fades from black to a sweeping aerial view of the Tokyo Dome, its iconic structure glowing like a beacon in the Tokyo night. The beat of a taiko drum reverberates as the visuals shift to an intense montage of the recent chaos that has led to this night. Beast Bogan’s unmistakable, booming voice takes over.
Beast Bogan (voiceover): Alright, Beastininites, buckle up, ‘cause the story you’re about to hear is no fairy tale—it’s a battle for the ages! In the land of the rising sun, two juggernauts of professional wrestling are about to go head-to-head, toe-to-toe, and heart-to-heart! This ain’t just a competition, brothers and sisters—it’s a full-on WAR!
The screen cuts to grainy footage of the shocking AAPW invasion during Friday Night Clash. Haruki Tanaka leads a battalion of AAPW wrestlers through the Tokyo Dome crowd. The invaders shove past fans and security as the camera shakes, capturing the raw chaos. Loud boos from the crowd echo, mingling with screams of outrage.
Beast Bogan: It all started when those AAPW boys decided to crash the party, stormin’ the Tokyo Dome like a pack of wild scorpions on a sugar rush. They didn’t just knock—they kicked the door down, brother!
The visuals transition to backstage mayhem. AAPW wrestlers ambush Ultimate Wrestling talent. Daichi Sasaki hurls a rookie into a stack of crates while Isao Kurosawa smashes a steel chair into Drake Nygma’s back. Gao Yun attempts to fend off attackers, but the numbers overwhelm her.
Beast Bogan: Backstage? Forget about it! It was a madhouse. Chairs flyin’, bodies droppin’—and lemme tell ya, that wasn’t a wrestling match, it was a battlefield!
The camera cuts to the ring, where The Syndicate surrounds Chuluun Bold, Drake Nygma, and Dollia Trypp. Dollia’s eyes dart in panic as Daichi Sasaki steps forward, pointing menacingly at Bold. The beat of the taiko intensifies as the invaders pounce, delivering a brutal assault. Bold fights valiantly but is overwhelmed. Nygma collapses under a barrage of strikes. The scene crescendos with Dollia cornered, screaming as The Syndicate looms over her.
Beast Bogan: And in the ring? The Syndicate made their presence known, brother. Chuluun Bold, Drake Nygma, Dollia Trypp—they were outnumbered, outgunned, and left for scrap metal. But they didn’t go down without a fight!
The tone darkens as the camera cuts to Haruki Tanaka and Saiko Sasori dragging Rupert Mudcock down the ramp. Mudcock, disheveled and terrified, pleads with Tanaka. The crowd’s boos are deafening.
Beast Bogan: And just when you thought things couldn’t get crazier, outcomes Haruki Tanaka, draggin’ Rupert Mudcock down that ramp like a ragdoll. What’s he do? Challenges the whole dang federation to Ronin Rumble!
Tanaka shoves Mudcock into the ring, where Saiko Sasori steps forward. A single spotlight illuminates Sasori’s imposing figure as he grips a microphone.
Saiko Sasori (on-screen): Bring your best. Bring your champions. And when the dust settles, all will bow to AAPW.
The taiko beat intensifies as the camera captures Rupert Mudcock trembling. Tanaka drops the microphone and glares at him. Tanaka lands a thunderous punch without warning, sending Mudcock sprawling to the canvas. The crowd erupts in chaos as the screen fades to black.
Beast Bogan: BOOM! Down goes Rupert Mudcock, live on national TV! And now, the stage is set, the stakes couldn’t be higher, and tonight, we settle it all right here in the Tokyo Dome! THIS... IS... RONIN RUMBLE NIGHT 2!
The Tokyo Dome logo blazes onto the screen, igniting a dazzling pyrotechnic display. The camera pans over the roaring crowd, signs and banners waving as the arena comes alive. The roar of excitement crescendos as the scene transitions to the live event.
The screen fades from the dazzling pyrotechnics and roaring crowd to the commentator desk, positioned near the entrance ramp. Sitting at the center, clad in a red-and-yellow blazer, is Beast Bogan. His energy radiates as he gestures wildly, soaking in the electric atmosphere of the Tokyo Dome.
Beast Bogan: WHATCHA GONNA DO, TOKYO DOME, WHEN RONIN RUMBLE NIGHT 2 AND THE BEAST RUN WILD ON YOU?! Beastininites, I am here live and in living color, ready to witness history being made tonight! We’ve got one of the most stacked cards in wrestling history, two federations going at it, and oh brother, you’d better believe I’m here to keep the peace—or at least try!
Bogan flashes a toothy grin and gestures to his left.
Beast Bogan: Joining me tonight from Ultimate Wrestling, the man who knows every hold, every counter, and every move in the book—Scott Slade! Scott, how’re ya feelin’, brother?
Scott Slade: Beast, I’ve got chills! This is the kind of night we dream about as wrestling fans. The stakes couldn’t be higher, and the action’s going to be off the charts!
Beast Bogan: And of course, the most polarizing voice in Ultimate Wrestling—Chris Rodgers. Chris, you look ready to stir the pot tonight.
Chris Rodgers: Oh, I’m more than ready, Bogan. Let’s call it what it is—Ultimate Wrestling is the premier federation, and tonight, we’re going to prove it by beating these so-called AAPW legends at their own game.
Bogan smirks and turns to his right, introducing the AAPW commentators.
Beast Bogan: And from All Asia Pro Wrestling, we’ve got the legendary Yasuhiro Fujimoto—a man who’s been calling matches longer than some of these rookies have been alive. Fujimoto-san, welcome to the table!
Yasuhiro Fujimoto: Thank you, Bogan-san. Tonight is not just a contest; it’s a clash of cultures, styles, and legacies. AAPW represents the spirit of Japanese wrestling, and I believe that spirit will triumph.
Beast Bogan: And last but definitely not least, the loudest voice in Japan—Takeshi Suzuki! Suzuki, the floor is yours.
Takeshi Suzuki: Finally! You let me talk! Listen, Bogan, tonight’s not about dreams or redemption. It’s about showing these Gaijin clowns the door! And speaking of clowns, let’s talk about Devin Zeagal. A washed-up movie actor with a black belt in Aikido? Give me a break! Aikido is what you teach your grandma for self-defense!
Scott Slade: Now hold on, Suzuki, Aikido is a legitimate martial art—
Takeshi Suzuki: Legitimate? Slade, the only thing Aikido is good for is choreography in B-grade action movies! Zeagal should’ve stayed in Hollywood where he belongs. This ring isn’t some soundstage—it’s real, and Kenjiro Tanaka is going to expose him for the fraud he is!
Chris Rodgers: Suzuki, for once, you’re making sense. Zeagal’s been hiding behind his boardroom and his Hollywood fame for too long. Tanaka’s about to remind him what real wrestling looks like.
Beast Bogan: Alright, alright, let’s keep it civil, boys. Speaking of Tanaka, Fujimoto, what do you make of this match?
Yasuhiro Fujimoto: “Kenjiro Tanaka is a living legend, and his experience speaks for itself. But I will give Zeagal credit—he’s a fighter, and he’s coming into this with something to prove.”
Takeshi Suzuki: “He’s coming in with a script, Fujimoto, because that’s the only thing he knows how to follow!”
The tension escalates as Bogan quickly shifts gears.
Beast Bogan: Alright, folks, the 60-man Ronin Rumble! This is the kind of match that legends are made of. Thirty wrestlers from Ultimate Wrestling, thirty from AAPW, one winner, two million dollars, and a shot at the Undisputed Heavyweight Championship! Let’s break it down. Fujimoto, who do you think is the best chance of winning?
Yasuhiro Fujimoto: There are so many incredible athletes in this match, but if I had to choose, I’d say Daichi Sasaki. He’s relentless, disciplined, and leads The Syndicate—a group that could change the entire complexion of the Rumble if they work together.
Scott Slade: You’ve got a point there, Fujimoto. Sasaki’s a powerhouse, and with The Syndicate watching his back, he could go far. But this is the Rumble—we’ve seen alliances fall apart in the blink of an eye.
Takeshi Suzuki: Ha! Fall apart? Not when it comes to AAPW, Slade! The Syndicate doesn’t just fight—they conquer. And let’s not forget Shinku Ryujin and Guren Onimaru—both are battle-hardened warriors who could easily take this.
Chris Rodgers: Oh, please, Suzuki. Your AAPW boys are tough, I’ll give you that, but Ultimate Wrestling is sending in the best roster in the world. Takuma Sato, Mikhail Mordokrov, and even the high-flying Oswald Knight are all prime contenders.
Takeshi Suzuki: High-flying? More like high-falling when they get tossed out of the ring! Your roster is flashy, Rodgers, but they lack the grit and tradition of AAPW.
Scott Slade: Let’s not forget the surprises that always come with the Rumble. Gao Yun has been on an absolute tear lately, and let’s talk about Kazuo Oni—a mysterious figure who’s been making waves in Ultimate Wrestling. He’s someone to watch.
Beast Bogan: All great picks, brothers, but don’t sleep on the dark horses. A match like this is unpredictable—sometimes it’s the wily veterans or the overlooked underdogs who steal the spotlight. And with Haruki Tanaka and Rupert Mudcock acting as head coaches backstage, you know there’s going to be strategy—and plenty of chaos!
Beast Bogan: And then there’s the main event—the clash of champions. AAPW’s Saiko Sasori versus Ultimate Wrestling’s Chuluun Bold in a no-holds-barred match to decide the Undisputed Heavyweight Champion. Fujimoto, give us the lowdown on Sasori.
Yasuhiro Fujimoto: Saiko Sasori is not just a wrestler—he’s a cultural icon. His hybrid martial arts style blends strength, precision, and agility in a way few can match. He carries the weight of Japanese wrestling on his shoulders and thrives under pressure. Tonight, he fights for honor and legacy.
Chris Rodgers: And he’s going to lose. Chuluun Bold is the Franchise Heavyweight Champion for a reason. He’s an unstoppable force—295 pounds of raw power with the wrestling IQ to back it up. Sasori doesn’t stand a chance in a no-holds-barred environment.
Takeshi Suzuki: Raw power? Bold is nothing but a glorified brawler! Sasori’s technique and discipline will expose him. And let’s not forget the celestial orb embedded in Bold’s championship belt—that’s more than a prize; it’s a symbol of power that Sasori is destined to claim.
Scott Slade: This match is more than just about titles—it’s about proving who is truly the best. Bold’s strength versus Sasori’s skill. East versus West. This is the kind of match people will talk about for decades.
Beast Bogan: And don’t forget, no holds barred means anything goes, brothers! These two are gonna tear the house down, and I guarantee you, no matter who walks out with the gold, they’ll have to earn every inch of it!
Beast Bogan: Alright, Tokyo Dome, the stage is set, the stakes couldn’t be higher, and the crowd is ready to explode! Let’s kick things off with Devin Zeagal versus Kenjiro Tanaka—let’s take it to the ring!
The camera cuts to the ring, where Kenji Saito stands poised to announce the competitors.
The camera pans across the packed Tokyo Dome, the essential worker crowd roaring with anticipation. The ring is bathed in a spotlight as AAPW’s intense ring announcer, Kenji Saito, steps into the center, his booming voice slicing through the noise.
Kenji Saito: LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THE FOLLOWING CONTEST IS SET FOR ONE FALL! INTRODUCING FIRST…
The arena darkens as a single gong echoes, followed by a soft, ominous tune reminiscent of a cheesy 1980s action movie score. A spotlight shines on the entrance ramp, revealing Devin Zeagal stepping out with his students Rakshasa Tora, Kojiro Tamura, and Takaya Shibasaki trailing behind. Zeagal, wearing a black gi stretched to its limit and his signature sunglasses, struts with exaggerated confidence, his gut bouncing slightly with each step. His students clap in unison, their faces frozen in what might be practiced stoicism—or thinly veiled embarrassment.
Kenji Saito: FROM DETROIT, MICHIGAN, WEIGHING IN AT 290 POUNDS... THE MASTER OF AIKIDO... DEVIN ZEEEEAAAAGAAAAAAL!
Zeagal raises his hands dramatically, basking in the mix of laughter and jeers from the crowd. He bows theatrically, then turns to bark orders at his students, who scramble to form a line behind him and mimic his exaggerated martial arts poses. Zeagal points to the ring like he’s commanding an army and begins a slow, deliberate walk.
Takeshi Suzuki: Oh, give me a break! This guy’s a master of nothing but buffet lines. Look at him! That gi is fighting harder than he ever has in his life!
Chris Rodgers: I hate to say it, but I agree with Suzuki. Zeagal’s about as intimidating as an expired carton of milk.
Beast Bogan: Now, now, boys, let’s not count him out just yet. He’s got style... even if it’s a little snug.
Takeshi Suzuki: Style? This guy’s got all the style of a bad cosplay! And don’t get me started on Aikido—it’s like martial arts karaoke. Sure, it’s fun to watch, but nobody’s taking it seriously!
Zeagal reaches the ring and struggles to step through the ropes, his belly catching briefly. His students rush to help him, and he straightens up, feigning composure. He executes a clumsy karate chop toward the referee, who barely reacts.
Scott Slade: Devin Zeagal looks confident, but I’m not sure how much of that is real or wishful thinking.
Takeshi Suzuki: Confident? He’s delusional, Slade! This isn’t one of his low-budget action flicks—he can’t just yell ‘Cut!’ when things go south!
Zeagal poses in the center of the ring, pulling out an invisible katana and sheathing it with a flourish. The crowd laughs, and he scowls at their reaction.
Beast Bogan: Well, you can’t say the man doesn’t know how to put on a show. Let’s see if he can back it up.
Takeshi Suzuki: Back it up? He can’t even fit in the ring! Somebody call his agent—he’s about to need a stunt double!
Kenji Saito: AND HIS OPPONENT…
The lights dim, and a powerful drumbeat reverberates through the arena. “Crimson Lotus” by Wagakki Band blares as Yuriko Tanaka steps onto the ramp, her crimson cape flowing dramatically. She points to the ring with an icy glare, and moments later, Kenjiro Tanaka emerges. The Hall of Famer exudes a quiet confidence, his presence alone enough to draw a massive cheer from the crowd.
Kenji Saito: FROM OSAKA, JAPAN, WEIGHING IN AT 250 POUNDS... ACCOMPANIED BY HIS DAUGHTER, YURIKO TANAKA... THE LEGENDARY HALL OF FAMER... KENJIRO TAAANAAKAAAA!
Beast Bogan: You’re not kidding, brother! Lemme tell ya somethin’, Slade—this man right here, Kenjiro Tanaka, is the real deal, jack! Back in ’82, during my Japanese tour, I went toe-to-toe with him for the AAPW Heavyweight Championship. I was in my prime, dude—I thought I had it in the bag—but Tanaka pulled that Kenjiro Kamakazi move of his from out nowhere and pinned me 1-2-3, clean as a whistle! That’s when I knew, brother—this guy wasn’t just great, he was legendary!
Chris Rodgers: Wait a second, Bogan—you’re telling me Tanaka beat you? I thought you were ‘unbeatable’ back in the day.
Beast Bogan: Hey, even the best gotta bow down sometimes, dude! Tanaka didn’t need any smoke and mirrors, no gimmicks, brother—just raw skill and a heart bigger than Mount Fuji! And tonight, he’s gonna remind the world why he’s one of the greatest of all time, brother!
Takeshi Suzuki: Heart? Oh, spare me the love story, Bogan. The difference between you and Zeagal is that you were at least halfway competent. Zeagal’s about to embarrass himself in ways you can’t even imagine!
Tanaka steps into the ring, his movements methodical yet purposeful. He removes his robe, revealing a thick, battle-scarred frame that commands respect. He nods to referee Kazuo Nakamura, whose black-and-white makeup matches his sharp attire, before locking eyes with Zeagal. Yuriko Tanaka takes her place at ringside, glaring daggers at Zeagal and his students, adding an ominous edge to the scene.
Beast Bogan: Look at him, brothers—Kenjiro Tanaka is a living, breathing monument to what it means to be a true champion of Japan, dude! He’s fought the best, beaten the best, and tonight, he’s gonna show that he’s still the best, brother!
Takeshi Suzuki: Show he’s the best? Tanaka doesn’t need to prove anything! The guy’s a Hall of Famer. Tonight’s about reminding everyone that Zeagal is a joke.
Zeagal fidgets awkwardly with his gi, clearly unnerved. He attempts an exaggerated bow to Tanaka, who responds with a curt nod, his expression unreadable. The referee steps between them, signaling for the bell.
DING!
The bell rings, and Devin Zeagal immediately strikes a martial arts pose, his feet awkwardly shuffling into what might be an Aikido stance—or a bad movie impression of one. The crowd bursts into laughter as Zeagal dramatically points at Kenjiro Tanaka and shouts:
Devin Zeagal: You’re about to face the real master of Aikido, brother!
Tanaka stands in the center of the ring, arms crossed, watching Zeagal’s antics with a bemused expression. Yuriko Tanaka leans on the apron, rolling her eyes as Zeagal begins circling Tanaka with exaggerated, clumsy movements.
Takeshi Suzuki: Look at this clown! He’s not a master of Aikido—he’s a master of falling over his own feet!
Beast Bogan: Now hold on, Suzuki. Maybe he’s lulling Tanaka into a false sense of security, dude!
Takeshi Suzuki: False sense of security? Bogan, Tanaka’s probably falling asleep out of boredom!
Zeagal suddenly lunges at Tanaka, attempting an over-the-top spinning backhand strike. Tanaka casually sidesteps, and Zeagal stumbles past him, nearly tripping over his own feet. The crowd roars with laughter as Zeagal quickly recovers, puffing out his chest like he meant to miss.
Scott Slade: Tanaka is unfazed, and Zeagal... well, he’s putting on a performance, at least.
Chris Rodgers: Performance is all he’s got, Slade. If this were a movie, he’d already be demanding a reshoot.
Zeagal turns to his students at ringside, waving for encouragement. Rakshasa Tora claps stoically, while Kojiro Tamura and Takaya Shibasaki exchange nervous glances. Zeagal smirks, motioning for Tanaka to come at him.
Tanaka obliges, stepping forward and delivering a sharp, precise chop to Zeagal’s chest. The impact echoes through the arena, and Zeagal staggers backward, clutching his chest.
Beast Bogan: WHOA! Did you hear that, brothers? Tanaka’s chops can break down walls!
Takeshi Suzuki: Or egos, Bogan—and Zeagal’s got plenty of that to spare!
Zeagal awkwardly retreats to the ropes, holding up a hand to signal for a timeout. The referee ignores him, and Tanaka patiently waits in the center of the ring, the epitome of calm confidence. Zeagal huddles with his students on the apron, whispering frantically.
Rakshasa Tora tries to coach Zeagal, mimicking a basic Aikido throw. Zeagal nods enthusiastically and returns to the ring, clumsily attempting the move on Tanaka. Tanaka counters effortlessly, flipping Zeagal onto his back with a crisp arm drag. Zeagal scrambles to his feet, red-faced and flustered.
Scott Slade: That’s the difference between experience and showmanship! Tanaka’s skill is undeniable.
Takeshi Suzuki: Slade, stop sugarcoating it. Zeagal just got outclassed in his so-called specialty! What’s next—he tries to trip Tanaka and falls on his own face?
Zeagal tries to regain composure, shouting at the crowd to quiet down. He squares off with Tanaka again, this time attempting a basic wristlock. Tanaka reverses it easily, transitioning into a hammerlock with Zeagal flailing and yelping in exaggerated pain.
Chris Rodgers: This is just embarrassing. Somebody throw in the towel for this guy before he hurts himself.
Beast Bogan: Hold on, Rodgers—sometimes it takes a few bumps to find your rhythm, brother. Maybe Zeagal’s just getting warmed up!
Takeshi Suzuki: If this is his warm-up, Bogan, he should’ve stayed in catering!
Zeagal breaks free and scurries to the corner, yelling at his students for advice. Kojiro Tamura and Takaya Shibasaki argue over what to do, their bickering audible to the front row. Meanwhile, Rakshasa Tora silently glares at Zeagal, clearly unimpressed.
Tanaka steps forward, and Zeagal immediately drops to the mat, rolling out of the ring to regroup with his students. The crowd boos loudly as Zeagal frantically waves his hands, yelling, “Strategy, brothers, strategy!” Tanaka leans on the ropes, shaking his head.
Scott Slade: Devin Zeagal is stalling, but Tanaka doesn’t seem fazed. This match is all about control, and right now, Tanaka has it.
Takeshi Suzuki: Control? This isn’t control, Slade—this is a grown man running away like a scared child! Get back in the ring, Zeagal, and take your beating like a man!
Devin Zeagal continues pacing outside the ring, flanked by his students, who seem increasingly frustrated with their mentor’s antics. Rakshasa Tora grabs Zeagal by the shoulders and mutters something inaudible, trying to push him back toward the ring.
Takeshi Suzuki: Finally! Someone on his team has the guts to tell him to stop embarrassing himself!
Beast Bogan: Hey, don’t count him out just yet, brother. He’s just regrouping, you know, strategizing!
Takeshi Suzuki: Strategizing? Bogan, the only strategy Zeagal has is avoiding the ring altogether!
The referee begins his count, and Zeagal reluctantly slides back under the ropes, glaring at Tanaka, who hasn’t moved from his relaxed stance. Zeagal points dramatically at the crowd, yelling, “Watch this, brothers!” He lunges forward with an exaggerated spinning chop aimed at Tanaka’s chest.
Tanaka sidesteps effortlessly, and Zeagal stumbles forward, nearly crashing into the turnbuckle. Before Zeagal can recover, Tanaka spins him around and delivers a textbook belly-to-belly suplex. The crowd roars as Zeagal rolls onto his side, groaning in exaggerated pain.
Scott Slade: That’s vintage Tanaka! Perfectly executed and effective.
Chris Rodgers: Executed is right. Zeagal looks like he’s rethinking all his life choices right now.
Takeshi Suzuki: Life choices? This guy’s been rethinking since the match started! Somebody call Hollywood and let them know their star is about to get cancelled—again!
Zeagal’s students shout encouragement from ringside, with Kojiro Tamura mimicking a high-flying move and pointing to the top rope. Zeagal, still dazed, nods weakly and begins climbing the ropes in the corner, clearly struggling under his weight.
Beast Bogan: Now hold on, brother, is he thinking what I think he’s thinking? Zeagal’s going up top!
Scott Slade: This could either be brilliant or a disaster.
Takeshi Suzuki: It’s a disaster waiting to happen, Slade. Somebody get a safety net!
Zeagal steadies himself on the top turnbuckle, teetering dangerously as he raises his arms to the crowd. He leaps off in a clumsy attempt at a flying elbow drop, but Tanaka calmly rolls out of the way. Zeagal crashes hard into the mat, clutching his elbow and writhing dramatically.
Chris Rodgers: And that’s why he doesn’t go to the top rope! What was he thinking?
Takeshi Suzuki: He wasn’t thinking, Rodgers! That’s why we’re watching the sequel to How to Lose a Match in 10 Moves.
Tanaka shakes his head, motioning to the crowd, who respond with a massive cheer. He drags Zeagal to his feet and delivers a devastating knife-edge chop that echoes throughout the arena. Zeagal staggers back, his chest reddening instantly from the impact.
Beast Bogan: Listen to that, brother! Tanaka’s chops are like thunder—straight from the heavens!
Takeshi Suzuki: More like straight to the buffet line! Look at Zeagal—he’s one chop away from calling it quits!
Zeagal collapses into the corner, slumping against the turnbuckles as Tanaka slowly approaches. Rakshasa Tora climbs onto the apron, trying to distract the referee, while Kojiro Tamura grabs Zeagal’s hand and whispers hurried instructions. Takaya Shibasaki scrambles to grab a bottle of water and dumps it on Zeagal’s face to revive him.
Scott Slade: Zeagal’s entourage is doing everything they can to keep him in this match, but Tanaka’s focus hasn’t wavered.
Chris Rodgers: Focus or not, this is turning into a three-ring circus. Somebody tell the clown to get out of the ring!
Yuriko Tanaka, unimpressed, storms around the ring and grabs Shibasaki by the collar, pulling him off the apron and tossing him into the barricade. The crowd erupts as Yuriko glares at the rest of Zeagal’s students, daring them to interfere again.
Takeshi Suzuki: That’s what I’m talking about! Yuriko isn’t here to play games—she’s keeping these fools in check.
Beast Bogan: I gotta admit, brother, Yuriko’s got fire! She’s not gonna let her dad’s legacy get tainted by these shenanigans.
Back in the ring, Tanaka pulls Zeagal to his feet and whips him into the ropes. Zeagal rebounds awkwardly, stumbling as Tanaka catches him with a thunderous powerslam. The crowd explodes with cheers as Tanaka stands, adjusting his wristbands and signaling for more.
Scott Slade: Tanaka is in complete control, and Zeagal is running out of tricks!
Takeshi Suzuki: Tricks? He didn’t have any to begin with! All he’s running out of now is dignity.
Zeagal, groaning, crawls to the corner where Rakshasa Tora extends a hand to help him up. The referee admonishes Tora, forcing him to step back, as Tanaka circles the ring, ready to finish what he started.
Devin Zeagal clings to the ropes, struggling to pull himself upright as Kenjiro Tanaka slowly approaches, his movements deliberate and methodical. The crowd’s anticipation grows with Tanaka's step, chanting his name in unison. Zeagal looks over his shoulder at his students, desperation etched on his face.
Devin Zeagal: Help me formulate a plan damn it!
Rakshasa Tora rolls his eyes but reluctantly hops onto the apron, distracting the referee. Meanwhile, Kojiro Tamura and Takaya Shibasaki huddle near Zeagal, shouting conflicting advice. The commotion allows Zeagal to grab something from Tamura’s hand—a small wooden training stick.
Scott Slade: What is Zeagal doing? Is that… a weapon?
Beast Bogan: Oh, brother, this is gonna backfire big time!
Takeshi Suzuki: Backfire? No, Slade, this is classic Zeagal—cheat, fail, and blame someone else!
Zeagal spins around, holding the wooden stick aloft like a samurai preparing for battle. He charges Tanaka, letting out a loud, overdramatic battle cry. Tanaka stands his ground, unfazed, and at the last moment, sidesteps, catching Zeagal with a spinning back elbow that sends the wooden stick flying into the crowd.
Chris Rodgers: What a counter! Zeagal didn’t even see it coming!
Takeshi Suzuki: And neither did his weapon! That stick’s probably halfway to Osaka by now!
Zeagal stumbles back disoriented, and Tanaka capitalizes with perfectly executed strikes—chops, forearms, and a high-impact kick to Zeagal’s midsection that sends him crashing to the mat. The crowd erupts as Tanaka raises his arms, basking in their cheers.
Beast Bogan: That’s why they call him a legend, brother! Tanaka’s got the crowd eating out of the palm of his hand!
Takeshi Suzuki: Yeah, and Zeagal’s eating the mat! Someone call catering—he’s gonna need a consolation meal after this!
Yuriko Tanaka circles the ring like a predator, daring Zeagal’s students to interfere again. Rakshasa Tora steps forward, but Yuriko cuts him off with an icy glare, sending him retreating with his hands raised. Meanwhile, Kojiro Tamura tries to rouse Zeagal by slapping the mat and shouting encouragement.
Tanaka pulls Zeagal to his feet, gripping his arm and twisting it into a painful wristlock. Zeagal yelps, hopping on one foot as Tanaka transitions seamlessly into a hammerlock. The crowd cheers as Tanaka torques the hold, showing his technical prowess.
Scott Slade: This is a wrestling clinic by Kenjiro Tanaka. He’s outclassing Zeagal in every way.
Takeshi Suzuki: Every way? Slade, he’s outclassing him in ways Zeagal didn’t even know existed!
Zeagal, in desperation, throws a wild back elbow that barely grazes Tanaka. Tanaka releases the hold, steps back, and shakes his head, almost pitying his opponent. Zeagal staggers forward, clutching his arm and yelling at his students. Tanaka wastes no time, grabbing Zeagal from behind and executing a flawless German suplex. The impact shakes the ring as Zeagal folds like an accordion. Tanaka bridges for a brief moment, drawing applause from the crowd before rolling back to his feet, effortlessly composed.
Beast Bogan: That’s textbook wrestling right there, brother! Tanaka’s showing the world why he’s one of the all-time greats! Makes old man like me want to give another go myself! One last ride!
Takeshi Suzuki: I’d love to see it! Beast Bogan in the ring again and in Japan no less!
Zeagal lies motionless on the mat, his students huddling on the apron, frantically discussing their next move. Takaya Shibasaki climbs onto the apron, distracting the referee again, while Kojiro Tamura grabs Zeagal by the ankle and tries to drag him toward the ropes. The crowd erupts in boos, but Yuriko Tanaka storms around the ring, grabbing Tamura by the collar and throwing him into the barricade. She turns to Shibasaki and delivers a vicious roundhouse kick to his ribs, sending him crashing to the floor. The referee turns just in time to see Yuriko standing tall, her presence commanding the crowd’s admiration.
Scott Slade: Yuriko Tanaka is not letting anyone interfere with her father’s match! She’s as fierce as they come!
Takeshi Suzuki: Of course she is! She’s a Tanaka! Unlike Zeagal’s crew of wannabe ninjas over there.
Beast Bogan: Yuriko’s got fire, brother, and she’s not afraid to bring it!
Tanaka signals to the crowd back in the ring, drawing even more cheers. He pulls Zeagal to his feet and lifts him onto his shoulders in a fireman’s carry position. Kenjiro Tanaka holds Devin Zeagal, walking toward the center of the ring as the crowd roars with anticipation. Zeagal flails his arms and legs wildly, shouting, “No! Not like this!” Tanaka hesitates momentarily, almost amused by Zeagal’s desperation, before spinning him out and planting him onto the mat with a thunderous Death Valley Driver.
Scott Slade: Devastating! Tanaka is absolutely dismantling Zeagal!
Beast Bogan: That move shook the ring, brother! Tanaka’s showing no mercy; honestly, Zeagal’s got nothing left in the tank!
Takeshi Suzuki: Nothing in the tank? He never had anything to begin with, Bogan! Stick a chopstick in him—he’s done!
Zeagal groans on the mat, clutching his back as Tanaka rises to his feet, the crowd chanting his name. Rakshasa Tora climbs onto the apron, shouting something unintelligible at Tanaka. Tanaka calmly turns to face him, raising an eyebrow, and Yuriko is already behind Tora. Yuriko grabs Tora by the ankle and yanks him off the apron, causing him to land awkwardly on the floor. She leans in close, pointing a finger at him, her voice cutting through the crowd noise.
Yuriko Tanaka: Stay out of it, or you’ll regret it.
Scott Slade: Yuriko Tanaka is a force to be reckoned with. She’s neutralizing every bit of interference from Zeagal’s camp!
Chris Rodgers: “Neutralizing? She’s doing more wrestling outside the ring than Zeagal’s doing inside it!”
Back in the ring, Tanaka approaches Zeagal, who is crawling toward the ropes like a wounded animal. Zeagal reaches the ropes and waves frantically at his students, shouting, “Get me out of here, brothers!” Kojiro Tamura hesitates before reluctantly grabbing Zeagal’s hands and trying to pull him under the ropes. However, Yuriko storms over and yanks Tamura away, throwing him into the steel steps with a loud crash.
Beast Bogan: Yuriko’s cleaning house, brother! She’s not letting anyone save Zeagal from this beatdown.
Takeshi Suzuki: Save him? They should be running for the exits! Tanaka’s got this in the bag.
Tanaka grabs Zeagal by the ankle and drags him back to the center of the ring, flipping him onto his back. Zeagal throws up his hands, pleading for mercy, but Tanaka delivers a series of precise stomps to his midsection, each drawing a louder reaction from the crowd.
Scott Slade: Tanaka is systematically breaking Zeagal down. This is a masterclass in wrestling.
Takeshi Suzuki: Masterclass? This is more like a comedy special starring Devin Zeagal as the punchline!
Tanaka lifts Zeagal to his feet, but Zeagal suddenly swings wildly, landing a clumsy slap across Tanaka’s chest. Tanaka doesn’t even flinch. The crowd erupts into laughter as Zeagal looks at his hand, then at Tanaka, before backing up with a look of panic.
Chris Rodgers: That slap had the force of a feather! Zeagal’s officially out of ideas.
Beast Bogan: Oh, brother, this isn’t gonna end well for him!
Tanaka grabs Zeagal by the wrist and whips him into the ropes. Zeagal bounces off awkwardly, nearly tripping over his own feet, and Tanaka catches him with a brutal spinning heel kick to the chest. Zeagal crashes to the mat, gasping for air as Tanaka stands tall over him.
Scott Slade: That might have knocked the wind—and the fight—right out of Zeagal!
Takeshi Suzuki: Fight? Slade, the only fight here is Zeagal trying to stay conscious!
As Tanaka signals to the crowd for his finishing sequence, Rakshasa Tora and Takaya Shibasaki make one last desperate attempt to intervene. They both climb onto opposite sides of the apron, yelling at the referee to check something. Tanaka turns toward Tora, but Yuriko is already there, leaping onto the apron and delivering a picture-perfect spinning back kick that sends Tora flying to the floor. She spins around and charges Shibasaki, knocking him off the apron with a running forearm smash.
Kenjiro Tanaka circles Devin Zeagal, the crowd firmly in his corner as chants of “Ta-NA-ka! Ta-NA-ka!” echo throughout the Tokyo Dome. Zeagal, groaning on the mat, raises a trembling hand in a feeble attempt to call for a timeout.
Beast Bogan: Oh no, brother, there’s no timeouts in wrestling! Tanaka’s about to send this match into the history books!
Takeshi Suzuki: History books? More like blooper reels! Zeagal’s gonna be a cautionary tale for anyone dumb enough to think they can step into Tanaka’s ring.
Tanaka calmly grabs Zeagal by the arm and drags him to his feet. The AAPW legend locks in a wrist clutch and spins Zeagal around, transitioning smoothly into his signature finishing move—the Osaka Crusher—a thunderous spinning wrist-lock neckbreaker. The crowd erupts as Zeagal’s body crumples to the mat, sprawled out in the center of the ring.
Scott Slade: Osaka Crusher! That’s it! That’s gotta be it!
Beast Bogan: The Crusher hit with pinpoint precision, brother! There’s no getting up from that one.
Tanaka doesn’t immediately go for the pin. Instead, he stands over Zeagal, glancing briefly at the crowd before looking down at his opponent. The audience roars, urging him to finish it. Tanaka nods once, solemnly, before reaching down and hoisting Zeagal back to his feet, his expression unyielding.
Chris Rodgers: He’s not done? What’s he thinking?
Takeshi Suzuki: He’s thinking about sending a message, Rodgers! Zeagal wanted to play tough guy, and now he’s paying the price.
Tanaka pulls Zeagal into a textbook powerbomb position, lifting him high above his head. The crowd rises to its feet, anticipating the final blow. Tanaka pauses briefly, allowing the moment to sink in, before driving Zeagal down into the canvas with a resounding Osaka Thunder Powerbomb. The impact shakes the ring as the crowd erupts in a deafening cheer.
Beast Bogan: BOOM! Did you see that, brothers? That’s the kind of move that cements your legacy forever!
Takeshi Suzuki: Legacy? Tanaka doesn’t need to cement anything—he’s already a legend! That move was just for fun!
Tanaka leans forward, pressing his hands onto Zeagal’s chest for a symbolic and effortless pin. The referee drops to the mat, counting emphatically.
ONE! TWO! THREE!
DING DING DING!
Kenji Saito: HERE IS YOUR WINNER... THE LEGENDARY... KENJIRO TAAAAANAAAKAAAA!
The crowd explodes as Tanaka rises to his feet, raising a fist in victory. Yuriko enters the ring, standing proudly beside her father as the referee raises his hand. Zeagal’s students climb onto the apron, looking down at their fallen mentor with a mixture of disbelief and disappointment.
Scott Slade: What a performance by Kenjiro Tanaka! He dominated from start to finish and showed the world why he’s one of the all-time greats. Not the start Rupert Mudcock and we at Ultimate Wrestling were hoping for…
Chris Rodgers: He made Zeagal look like a fool in the process. Honestly, I don’t even feel bad for him. I hope this finally opens Mudcock’s eyes. This guy is a scam artist and a know it all buffoon.
Takeshi Suzuki: Feel bad? Rodgers, this match was a public service! Now everyone knows—Devin Zeagal is all talk, no talent.
Beast Bogan: You can’t argue with that, brother. Tanaka brought the fight, and Zeagal brought... well, whatever that was. But tonight belongs to Tanaka, and let me tell ya, dude—it’s an honor to watch this legend do his thing.
As Tanaka and Yuriko exit the ring, the camera lingers on Zeagal’s students, helping him to his feet. Zeagal, still groggy, looks at the crowd and mutters, “They were lucky, brothers...” before collapsing into Rakshasa Tora’s arms.
Takeshi Suzuki: Lucky? Did he just say lucky?! Somebody get this man a mirror—and maybe a retirement plan.
The crowd’s cheers transition into chants of “Tanaka! Tanaka!” as the legend and his daughter make their way up the ramp, pausing briefly at the stage to soak in the applause. The screen fades to black, leaving no doubt about the winner and the impact of the match.
The air in the backstage corridor was thick with the scent of sweat, old leather, and something faintly metallic. The distant thunder of the Tokyo Dome crowd reverberated through the concrete walls, muffled yet omnipresent, a constant reminder that war would be waging just beyond this hallway in moments.
Kuno No Senshi stood alone, stretching her arms, rolling out the tension in her shoulders. Her masked face tilted downward as she adjusted the laces on her gloves with methodical precision. She was calm, focused—her mind already inside the ring, calculating the battle that lay ahead.
She never saw the shadow moving behind her.
Kami Nakada watched from the darkness, her breathing slow, her grip firm around the black wooden bat hanging at her side. She had been waiting. Studying. This wasn’t rage. This wasn’t impulse. This was an execution.
A flickering light overhead buzzed as Kami took a silent step forward.
Then another.
Her heartbeat was steady. Her fingers flexed, tightening around the bat’s handle.
One last breath.
CRACK!
The bat struck the base of Senshi’s skull with a sickening thud. The force of the impact snapped Senshi’s head forward violently, her masked face slamming into the wall with a dull, meaty smack. Her body staggered once, knees wobbling, before her limbs gave out completely.
She crumpled.
Her fingers twitched. A shallow, broken sound escaped her lips. Then—nothing.
Kami stood over the fallen fighter, listening to the silence, the way Senshi’s body twitched once more before going completely limp. The baseball bat remained raised in her hands for a moment longer, just in case.
But it wasn’t necessary.
She knelt beside the unconscious woman, pressing two fingers against the pulse in her neck. Still alive. That was fine. Senshi wouldn’t be waking up anytime soon. And when she did, it wouldn’t matter.
Kami exhaled slowly.
Gripping Senshi beneath the arms, she dragged the limp body into the nearby storage room, kicking the door open just enough to pull them both inside before shutting it again with a muted click. The air was stale, heavy with the scent of worn-out gear, sweat-stained tape, and aged wood from the stacks of production crates lining the walls. A single overhead light flickered, casting jagged shadows across the metal cases and Kami’s now still figure.
Senshi’s body slumped against the wall, head lolling forward at an unnatural angle, arms sprawled uselessly at her sides. Her chest rose and fell in uneven, labored breaths. Kami crouched before her, tilting her head slightly. This had been easy. Too easy. A small smirk twitched at the corner of her lips.
She reached down, gripping the fabric of Senshi’s bodysuit and tearing it open, peeling the assassin-like attire away with the ruthless efficiency of someone who had done this before. The material slid off smoothly, exposing the battle-worn flesh beneath, but Kami didn’t linger. She moved with precision, stripping Senshi of everything until the gear lay pooled around her motionless form.
Then came the mask. Kami lifted it slowly, running her thumb along the sleek fabric, feeling the faint warmth left behind by its previous owner. This was more than a disguise. This was identity theft. She brought it to her face. The moment the mask slipped over her head, molding to her skin, the transformation was complete.
Kami turned toward the tall, cracked mirror mounted against the storage wall. The figure staring back at her wasn’t Kami Nakada anymore. It was Kuno No Senshi. She adjusted the gloves, rolling her shoulders. Her breathing slowed, deepened, her posture shifting into something colder, more disciplined—a forward lean, an assassin’s stance. She memorized it. She became it. Her fingers curled into fists. She turned her head slightly, glancing back at Senshi’s crumpled form. She wasn’t just taking her spot in the Rumble.
She was erasing her.
Kami grabbed the baseball bat once more, gripping it in the center. She snapped it over her knee, the wood splintering in a sharp, violent crack. The jagged pieces clattered to the floor beside Senshi’s lifeless body. A parting gift.
Her work was done.
She stepped toward the door, reaching for the handle. The Tokyo Dome crowd roared louder now, their anticipation mounting for the Ronin Rumble to finally start.
They thought they were getting Kuno No Senshi. They had no idea what was coming. With one final glance at the unconscious woman in the shadows, Kami shut the door behind her and disappeared into the Tokyo Dome.
The camera panned backstage, revealing Hiroshi Nakamura standing in his usual pristine suit, maintaining his professional composure as he addressed the audience.
Hiroshi Nakamura: Good evening, everyone. Tonight, we have a very special interview. Joining us is one of the most unpredictable forces in wrestling, Mr. Penguin himself—Oswald Knight. Known for his chaotic philosophy both in and out of the ring, Oswald remains an enigma. Oswald, thank you for being here.
The camera cut to Oswald Knight, seated with a calculating presence. Dressed in his signature tuxedo-inspired ensemble, complete with his penguin motif, he sat with his hands folded, his sharp eyes scanning the room like a predator sizing up his prey. A smirk flickered at the corner of his lips before he finally responded.
Oswald Knight: Is it a privilege, though? To be graced with my presence, Hiroshi? Or is it you who’s been blessed?
Oswald let out a dry, knowing chuckle before leaning forward, his tone shifting as his gaze narrowed.
Hiroshi Nakamura: Of course, Oswald. But many fans are curious about your unique approach to wrestling. You’ve been described as a chaotic neutral force in the ring—do you agree with that assessment?
Oswald’s smirk faded as he studied Hiroshi for a moment, then shook his head in mock disappointment.
Oswald Knight: Chaotic neutral? That’s a cute little label. Neat and clean, wrapped in a bow. But I’m not some mindless wildcard on a chessboard. I am the storm, Hiroshi. I don’t just live in chaos—I create it. I decide when it begins and when it ends. And that is what keeps them afraid.
Oswald’s voice climbed in intensity, before he suddenly reclined, his expression shifting back to unsettling amusement.
Oswald Knight: The secret? Simple. While everyone else clings to their fragile ‘heroes’ and ‘villains,’ I exist above it. No moral compass, no rules to bind me. And that, Hiroshi, terrifies people more than anything.
Hiroshi remained composed, though there was an undeniable tension in the air.
Hiroshi Nakamura: Some describe you as a wild card, someone who can shift from calm to chaos in an instant. Can you shed some light on what goes on inside your mind when you step into the ring?
Oswald’s smile grew, though there was no warmth in it.
Oswald Knight: Oh, Hiroshi. You think my mind is some kind of puzzle you can solve? Wrestling isn’t about thoughts—it’s about instincts. My mind? It’s a beautiful, twisting mess. A hurricane of strategies and surprises. One second I’m calm, the next—BAM! That’s the moment they realize they never had me figured out. And that is why I will always be in control.
Before Hiroshi could respond, his eyes shifted to his right, spotting the brightly clad figure of Lightning Man approaching. His mask, still bearing haphazard stitches from the previous night’s battle, framed his stern expression as he stepped into the interview space. Hiroshi exhaled in visible relief at the interruption.
Hiroshi Nakamura: Lightning Man… you requested to join this interview. What drove you to make such a request?
Lightning Man stared down at Oswald Knight, the five-inch height difference a quiet but undeniable reminder of his presence.
Lightning Man: Indeed, I did. We had an interesting night last night, didn’t we, Knight? You had your own title match. I had to fight off a dictator’s so-called ‘Avengers.’ And they tore me apart, ripped at my mask, tried to expose what’s underneath… but that’s not why I’m here.
Lightning took another step closer, towering over Oswald as the tension thickened.
Lightning Man: I’m here because tonight is bigger than you or me. You and I, we don’t like each other—I know that, you know that. To me, you’re a villain who can’t be trusted. But this isn’t personal. This is for Ultimate Wrestling.
Lightning extended his right arm toward Oswald, tapping his own chest before extending his hand.
Lightning Man: I am willing to put aside my principles if you are willing to put aside your ways. Not for me. Not for personal gain. But for the greater good of Ultimate Wrestling.
Oswald’s expression remained impassive, his face a mask of detached amusement as he slowly tilted his head, as if studying an exotic creature. For several moments, he did nothing, his silence suffocating. Then, ever so slightly, his smirk deepened.
Oswald Knight: Ah, Lightning Man. The noble crusader, always drowning in self-righteousness. You flatter me with your proposal. But you see… my ‘ways’ are what make me who I am. Asking me to set them aside is like asking you to abandon your tedious moral code. Could you even imagine it?
Oswald slowly rose to his feet, his umbrella twirling idly in one hand as he took a measured step closer.
Oswald Knight: You claim this isn’t personal. But let’s not pretend otherwise. You fear the unknown, Lightning. You fear me because I don’t fit into your neat little boxes of good and evil. Your precious ‘good’ cannot exist without something to vanquish… and I refuse to play into your delusion.
Oswald’s tone grew sharper, his words cutting through the air like a scalpel.
Oswald Knight: But let’s indulge your fantasy for a moment. Let’s say I agree. What guarantee do I have that your ‘principles’ won’t betray me when my methods become… inconvenient? Your kind always falters when forced to compromise. You preach unity, but I see the cracks.
Oswald clasped his hands behind his back, surveying Lightning Man with a glint of mischief.
Oswald Knight: So tell me, hero—what do you truly offer me? What makes this deal worth my time? Because if all you bring is noble speeches and blind faith, I’m afraid you’ll find me quite… unmoved.
Lightning inhaled a slow, deep breath, his nostrils flaring slightly as he exhaled.
Lightning Man: No one stays neutral, Oswald. Everyone picks a side. The only question is which side of the fence you land on. I don’t fully trust the CEO of Ultimate Wrestling, but at least I know the devil I’m dealing with. You? You’re an unknown. But I can change that.
Lightning took a step back and extended his hand again, this time firmer, unwavering.
Lightning Man: What I can guarantee is this—I will watch your back tonight. I will keep you in the match, protect you from elimination, and ensure AAPW’s roster doesn’t swarm you like vultures. All I ask is that you do the same for me. I give you my word. Can you give me yours?
Oswald studied the outstretched hand, his fingers tapping idly against his umbrella. A long silence followed, every second stretching unbearably. Then, finally, he reached out and clasped Lightning Man’s hand—not too firm, not too loose, just enough to communicate the barest acknowledgment of respect.
Oswald Knight: You’re right about one thing, Lightning. No one stays neutral forever. Even I must tilt the scales from time to time. But choosing blindly? That’s weakness.
Oswald leaned in, his voice dipping to a low whisper.
Oswald Knight: But your proposal intrigues me. Guardianship. Mutual gain. These are currencies I respect. So, for now, I will watch your back… as long as it serves my interests. But understand this—alliances with me are transactions, not bonds. The moment you outlive your usefulness?
Oswald pulled back, twirling his umbrella with a flourish, his smirk widening.
Oswald Knight: Well… let’s just say neutrality has a way of becoming a death sentence.
Lightning Man held his ground, his expression unshaken as the camera faded to black.
To Be Continued In Part - 3