The Alternate Era: Season 1, Episode V

[Stojy]

Finally read the most recent update and am up to date in here. Man, this has been so awesome so far. As always with you, the writing itself, the description, the analogies, the symbolism within, it's all fantastic. From a booking standpoint, things are flowing along nicely as well. From the initial attack/invasion of sorts, to Bushi's involvement, to some matches finally happening now. It has all been rather fantastic so far. Bullet Club just HAD to win their first match, and enjoyed the Super Junior Cup to. The difference in paths to the final between Desperado and Devitt was a nice contrast. I'm still not fully sure I understood why Desperado just threw the match like that. Feels like the same aftermath could have happened if Devitt won on his own accord, or if Desperado continues his domination and won.

Moving on from that though, the aftermath was heaps of fun and what a way to make us want the next update. Chono, fuck yeah. Nothing really constructive here, mate, just a fan enjoying the work. Looking forward to episode 4.

 

[Brett]

Episode IV: "Tsuioku"
Releases Friday, December 19th

 

[Stojy]

Faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaark, I'm hyped.

 

[Brett]

02.21​

 

[Brett]

「…いつか、お前たちの誰かが新日本を裏切るだろう」

三人の若者は顔を上げた。

「それが新日本を守るための裏切りであることを願うばかりだ」​

 

[Brett]

Episode IV: "Tsuioku"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
追憶 - 1992年 秋
NJPW Headquarters, Closed Executive Meeting Room, Tokyo, Japan
​

INOKI: Gentlemen, I did not call you here for ceremony, and I did not call you here for reassurance. I called this meeting because New Japan Pro-Wrestling is at an inflection point, and if we treat this moment like a temporary slump we will wake up one day and realize we surrendered our position without ever having a real fight for it. Our attendance is down, our momentum is uneven, and the public perception of what New Japan represents is beginning to blur. At the same time, All Japan is surging, not simply because they have talented men, but because they have clarity. Their audience can explain what they are watching in one sentence, and right now too many of our supporters cannot.

We are responsible for more than just match quality. We are responsible for identity. We are responsible for what the lion on this company’s banner means when a fan buys a ticket, when a young trainee walks into our dojo, when a sponsor attaches their name to our product, and what the broader public judges Japanese professional wrestling as a whole. That lion should be a promise: discipline, fighting spirit, and the pride of Japanese competition. If we allow that promise to become inconsistent, then we do not merely lose business, we dishonor the foundation I built.

So tonight, I want each of you to speak plainly and without performance. I want to hear, in clear terms, what you believe New Japan must become into the new millennium: how we compete, how we present ourselves, how we protect our culture, and how we expand without diluting what makes New Japan, New Japan. I am asking for philosophy, and I am asking for strategy. Because the truth is simple: if we do not decide what New Japan is, someone else will decide it for us.

HASHIMOTO: I agree with the foundation, but I think we’ve drifted from it. What the audience feels right now when they watch All Japan is weight. They feel danger. They believe those men are fighting for something real. When they watch us, sometimes they see polish. They see style and flamboyancy and performance. But Strong Style isn’t performance. Strong Style is a language of violence. It is when the audience believes a strike might break bone. When a submission looks like it could end a career. That fear creates respect. Respect creates loyalty. If we soften that edge to appeal to comfort, we dilute what makes us different. I am not interested in being flashy. I am interested in making people question whether they can endure what we endure. That is fighting spirit.

MUTOH: And what happens when fighting spirit becomes predictable? When every match is heavy, slow, punishing? Do we just copy everything Baba and the other men in All Japan are doing and brand it with the lion. The world is changing, Hashi-san. Satellite television is expanding. American companies are growing. If we stay rigid, we confine ourselves to one style, one audience, one ceiling. I believe in fighting spirit, but I believe it can take new and different forms. It can be faster, more dynamic. It can incorporate innovation. When I wrestle overseas, I see opportunity. There is fascination with Japanese discipline and culture. There is admiration for our training, but if we refuse to modernize presentation, we limit our reach. I do not want New Japan to simply survive in Japan. I want it to represent Japan globally. I want a foreign audience to look at our ring, look at our letters, look at the lion and say, “That is the best wrestling company in the world.” Rather than just being a few letters and a lion on a shirt that one of the gaijin may decide to wear on a house show, that nobody recognizes. Growth is evolution.

HASHIMOTO: Evolution can become compromise, Mutoh-san. Once you adjust for foreign tastes, you stop being yourself.

MUTOH: Not if you control the narrative. We don’t adapt to them. We show them something new. There is a difference between pandering and exporting excellence. If we remain inward-focused, All Japan will take the domestic base and someone else will take the world.

CHONO: You are both arguing from inside the ring. The ring is only part of the battlefield. Violence matters. Athleticism matters. But neither matters without command. All Japan’s rise is because of cohesion. My apologies Inoki-san, but Baba's structured leadership is what led them to this point. They present a unified identity. We present debate, differences. Debate is healthy, but it cannot guide business. Japan must come first. This company must be structured, controlled, directed. Not reactive. Not sentimental. Not some fucking marketplace of wrestling. Strong Style without governance is chaos. Global expansion without structure is bullshit dilution. The lion must have a cage to define its territory. If we do not control the system, contracts, narratives, hierarchy, someone else will.

INOKI: You speak of control. Control for what purpose, Chono-kun?

CHONO: To ensure the company does not drift. To ensure its violence is purposeful. To ensure its growth is calculated. Discipline must extend beyond the ring. The Japanese audience values order. They value clarity of hierarchy. We cannot pretend that chaos equals authenticity. It does not. It equals vulnerability.

HASHIMOTO: Authenticity is built by blood and sweat.

CHONO: Blood and sweat mean nothing if the institution where the blood and sweat are being drawn collapses. You might as well fight on the streets and beg for dollar bills with that mentality, Hashi-San.

MUTOH: And the institution collapses if it refuses to adapt.

INOKI: Then listen carefully. The lion is incapable of changing its nature, but it adapts its hunt. We must use resolve to endure change without losing identity. If New Japan forgets Japanese culture, it becomes hollow. If it refuses to grow, it becomes small. If it loses structure, it becomes fragile. One day, one of you will act in the name of protecting this company. You will believe you are right. And perhaps you will be. But if your action weakens the lion instead of strengthening it, history will not forgive you.

HASHIMOTO: I will protect it with my body.

MUTOH: I will expand it beyond our borders.

CHONO: I will ensure it answers to no one but itself.

INOKI: Then remember this, the lion does not kneel. It does not beg. And it does not forget where it was born.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Morning after Wrestle Kingdom
January 5th, 2013
Top Floor Penthouse Meeting Room, Tokyo Dome Hotel, Tokyo, Japan


The room is quiet.

No banners. No branding. No photographers.

Six men sit at a long rectangular table. No one speaks.

Masahiro Chono stands at the window, hands folded behind his back, looking down at the winter-gray Tokyo skyline. The glow of Wrestle Kingdom still lingers in the city. Social media is celebrating. Headlines are praising attendance, spectacle, star power, match quality.

Chono turns.
​

CHONO: Last night was a success, wasn't it?​

He lets that settle.
​

CHONO: It was loud. It was profitable. It was clean.​

He steps toward the table.
​

CHONO: And it was hollow.​

No one interrupts him.
​

CHONO: I have now told you about a meeting we had in 1992. Inoki, Hashimoto, Mutoh, and myself. Identity and structure was falling then too. All Japan was rising. The Four Pillars were convincing people they were watching something sacred. We sat at a table and argued about the future of New Japan.​

He looks around the room slowly.
​

CHONO: Hashimoto wanted violence. Mutoh wanted expansion. Inoki wanted purity. I wanted control.​

A pause.
​

CHONO: We were all right. And we were all wrong.​

He pulls out a chair and sits at the head of the table.
​

CHONO: The problem wasn't one side over the other. The problem was fragmentation. Each man fought for his own vision. Each man protected his own legacy. What we never did… was unify under a single directive.​

He leans forward.
​

CHONO: Individual glory is poisonous.​

His tone is calm. Not angry. Certain.
​

CHONO: Attendance Numbers. Five-star ratings. Main events. Those are decorations. Decorations do not protect institutions. They distract from decay.​

He taps the table once.
​

CHONO: The lion has been fucking NEUTERED!​

Silence.
​

CHONO: It used to represent Japanese fighting spirit. Discipline. Structure. Pride. Now it represents corporate safety. Predictable outcomes. Marketable heroes.​

His eyes sharpen.
​

CHONO: That is not what Inoki built.​

He gestures toward them.
​

CHONO: If you are here because you want a title, leave now. If you are here because you want revenge, leave now. If you are here because you want attention, leave now.

CHONO: This is not about you.​

Another pause.
​

CHONO: This is about restoring what the lion once was.

CHONO: Japan first. Structure first. Violence with purpose. Every action calculated. Every match strategic. Every appearance destabilizing the comfort that has grown around this company.​

He turns to one of them directly.
​

CHONO: You will not chase points in tournaments. You will not beg for title shots. You will not fight for applause.​

His gaze moves to another.
​

CHONO: You will make the audience uncomfortable. You will make management nervous. You will make the locker room choose a side.​

He straightens his jacket.
​

CHONO: This is a course correction 20 years in the making.​

He walks back to the window.​

CHONO: When I sat in that room in 1992, I understood something the others did not. Strength fades. Popularity fades. Innovation fades.​

He turns back slowly.
​

CHONO: Control endures.​

His voice lowers slightly.
​

CHONO: I brought up unity earlier. There are two ways of achieving unity. Compromise... or seizure. I think you all are aware of which I am willing to act out.​

A faint smirk touches his face.
​

CHONO: We are a WEAPON.​

The room is silent.
​

CHONO: If you follow me, understand this: some of you will lose. Some of you will sacrifice accolades. Some of you will be hated. You must learn to accept this.​

He folds his hands behind his back again.
​

CHONO: The lion longs to be feared. Nothing less, nothing more. For being feared makes you the king of the jungle.​

He nods once.
​

CHONO: Decide now whether you are soldiers as from here on out you will be branded apart of a movement that will be represented by the weapon we look to create.​

No cheers. No handshake. No dramatic oath.​

CHONO: The weapon that will eventually be known as..... THE BULLET CLUB!​

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Press-Conference Following the BOSJ Final
June 9th, 2013

The entrance that was left up in the air following the end of BOSJ, was simply just that. An entrance. Chono merely walked out to meet with his apparent faction and then walked out as quick as he came.

We resume backstage for comments from the faction.

Chono sits at the center of the long folding table, black suit immaculate, hands resting flat on the surface like he owns it. To his right, Shibata leans back in his chair, arms folded, jaw tight, not interested in cameras. To his left, Naito sits relaxed, legs crossed, almost amused. Low-Ki stands behind them, not seated, gloved hands resting on the back of Chono’s chair. Desperado sits slightly turned away from the table, mask still on, eyes scanning the room instead of the reporters.

No one smiles.

Chono adjusts the microphone himself.
​

CHONO: I see a lot of confused faces.​

A small smirk.
​

CHONO: Confusion is good in my line of business.​

He folds his hands.
​

CHONO: Tonight should've been a celebration for the best of the super juniors. But unfortunately for New Japan, Mutoh decided to go into business for himself by calling me out directly. Well here I am. But I am all, but the glue that brings the fabric of these dangerous six... I mean four men together.​

He glances briefly at Desperado.
​

CHONO: Desperado did exactly what was required. I look at him the same right now as I did this morning. Devitt you are welcome for OUR gift to you.​

Desperado tilts his head slightly but says nothing.
​

CHONO: While we're here, why don't we go over each member of my club. Low-Ki has reminded everyone that discipline is violence with structure. He does not care of your applause. He fights because it's all he knows. I speak pretty strongly against gaijin, but Low-Ki has done so much to respect our culture in a way that many domestic wrestlers do not exhibit. So who am I to deny his fire?​

Low-Ki doesn’t blink.
​

CHONO: Shibata… is inevitability. I like to think of him as my fixer. Anyone in our way can easily get chopped down by Shibata-san.​

Shibata exhales through his nose. That’s the only reaction.
​

CHONO: And Naito.​

He pauses. A faint grin.
​

CHONO: Naito.... really is the domino that brought this whole idea together. Well at least one of the dominos. Sent to exile and never to be asked back? Are you FUCKING kidding me? One of the BEST of his generation and there's nothing for him. Give me a god damn break.​

Naito shrugs lazily.
​

CHONO: Bullet Club is focused on shooting through the current landscape of the Lion. One obsessed with global conquest and western fame.​

His voice sharpens slightly.
​

CHONO: And that brings me to the real disease we are looking to cure.​

The room stills.
​

CHONO: For too long, New Japan has been treated as a stepping stone. A platform. A résumé builder. Wrestlers come here, build their name, polish their image, then chase brighter lights. They smile for cameras, talk about “dreams,” and the second a larger market calls, they bow and leave.​

He leans forward slightly.
​

CHONO: You might as well spit in Inoki-san's face.​

A reporter shifts in their seat.
​

CHONO: Shinsuke Nakamura.​

He says the name flatly. And then spits on the ground in front of him.
​

CHONO: A gifted performer. Charismatic. Talented. Given all the opportunity to be THE guy here in New Japan. ​

A slight scoff.
​

CHONO: And the moment a foreign spotlight flickered, he ran toward it. Not as a warrior representing Japan. Not as a lion defending his home. But as a man chasing foreign validation.​

He waves his hand dismissively.
​

CHONO: 口先だけの侍だ。
A samurai of the mouth. Nothing more.​

A few murmurs in the room.
​

CHONO: If you want to build your fame somewhere else, then go off and do it. But do not stand in this ring and pretend you fight for New Japan while planning your exit.​

His voice lowers.
​

CHONO: This company does not exist to manufacture global celebrities. It exists to represent Japanese wrestling at its highest form.​

He looks directly into the camera now.
​

CHONO: Anyone who treats New Japan as a launchpad will be removed.​

No theatrics. No shouting.

Just certainty.
​

CHONO: Unity… or removal. Those are the only two outcomes left.​

He adjusts his cuffs.
​

CHONO: People are asking what we want. They say we are destructive. They say we are reckless.​

A faint smile creeps in.
​

CHONO: They misunderstand something simple.​

He taps the table once.
​

CHONO: When a building is rotten at its foundation, you do not renovate. You tear it down.​

A pause.
​

CHONO: In order to rebuild something strong… you must first be willing to destroy what is weak.​

​

CHONO: To end this here today. I thought I'd gift the media, the fans, and the New Japan roster with some honesty and information. I would like to tell you that six men joined me the day following January 4th. We spent these past six months planning in tremendous detail what our goals are and how we are to achieve these goals. And truth be told, six months from now we should have accomplished a large portion of those goals. As you see surrounding me now are four men. Safe-to-say there are more to come. Whether it be from within or outside. Do not trust anyone.​

Silence hangs.

No one from Bullet Club claps. No one poses.

They simply stand up together.

Chono leaves first.

The others follow.

No music.
​

 

[Brett]

Episode V: "Dominion"
Out Soon.​

 

[Hoss]

Good new episode to provide background and a mission statement for this iteration of Bullet Club. I think this helps me wrap my head around the theme of the stable and where they fit into the landscape. Good shit.

 

[Stojy]

As always, a really compelling read. I think you've done a good job of establishing how the Bullet Club came together, but also the why and what they are looking to achieve. The dynamic of tearing New Japan down to make it better, as opposed to tearing it down just to cause havoc is one that I really like.

Two more people have joined but still yet to be revealed. I wonder if Devitt will be one. Either way, a nice way to set up some excitement for what may come next.

Also, just noting I noticed the 666 used towards the end, and thought that was fun.

Don't make us wait so long for the next update please.

 

[Brett]

Bonus Episode: Press Conference from the Ace

June 11, 2013
New Japan Offices, Tokyo, Japan
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hiroshi Tanahashi steps to the podium slower than usual. There’s clearly some padding / taping in his midsection as his tailored suit sits a little more snug than usual. The swelling near his eye has faded, but not completely. A usually happy and hopeful Tanahashi presents in a more measured and serious manner.

TANAHASHI:
「いつも応援してくださって、本当にありがとうございます。」

I won’t pretend the last few weeks were minor. I was hurt. I was carried out of Ryogoku and immediately brought to the local hospital. I spent nights staring at hospital ceilings wondering if I would feel the same when I laced my boots again. That kick wasn’t an accident, and it wasn’t competition. It was meant to take something from me.

It didn’t.

I’ve been cleared for singles competition. The doctors have signed off. The title stays with me. I am still the IWGP Heavyweight Champion. And if I’m going to carry this belt, then I’m going to defend it. June 22. Dominion. That’s the responsibility of being the Ace.

Now… about Bullet Club.

The junior heavyweights in that group, Desperado, Low-Ki, they’re talented. They’re proud. They fight hard. But they’re not my concern right now. I don’t mean that as disrespect to them as men or as wrestlers. It’s just reality. My focus is on the two men who chose to stand in front.

Naito.

Tetsuya, you’ve said a lot about exile. About being cast aside. About not being welcomed home. That version of the story sounds dramatic. It isn’t accurate.

You were invited back. More than once. You had opportunities to return and anchor this company. You turned them down. You chose to chase something else. That is certainly your right. But don’t rewrite history to make yourself appear to be some martyr.

You struggled here. The fans didn’t embrace you the way they embraced others. I remember the conversations we had. Late nights after shows. You asking me why it felt so hard. You wondering what you were missing. I told you what I tell every single young wrestler. It takes time. You don’t demand love from a Japanese crowd. You have to earn it. Sometimes that means walking through silence before you hear applause.

You were impatient. That’s human. But don’t stand next to Chono now and talk about purity, like you’ve been guarding some sacred flame all these years. You left. You left when it was uncomfortable. And the biggest measure of loyalty and true passion is battling through uncomfortability.

Chono says he wants to remove anyone using New Japan as a platform. That’s his "language". That’s his crusade.

Has he looked down his own table?

Naito chased foreign glory. Low-Ki built his name everywhere but here. Desperado reinvented himself because he couldn’t break through. And Shibata… we’ll get to Shibata.

If this is about cleansing the company, he might want to double-check the résumés of the men he’s preaching beside.

Now to Shibata-San.

That one’s harder for me.

We came up together. We were branded as musketeers. In this company, that means something. It’s not just a nickname. It’s trust. It’s expectation. It’s being handed the keys to something bigger than yourself.

You walked away from that.

You didn’t just test yourself in MMA. You abandoned the lion. You said you needed something more real. You said professional wrestling wasn’t enough.

And how did that go?

You weren’t dominant. You weren’t feared. You weren’t the warrior you said you were. When it got difficult, when it wasn’t romantic anymore, you came back around. And suddenly you’re talking about restoring honor.

There was a time when this company wasn’t eager to bring you back. You exposed yourself. You showed everyone that when things didn’t suit you, you’d walk. Why would New Japan rush to embrace that?

I say this because it matters to me. You were my brother once. I defended you when others didn’t. I believed you would grow into the responsibility we were given.

And now you’re standing across from me with a man talking about rebuilding what you left behind.

You want to do Chono's bidding? Fine.

You want to test whether I’m broken? Fine.

Dominion. June 22. I will defend the IWGP World Heavyweight Championship against you, Shibata-san.

But you come without those men you now stand beside.

No Naito. No Desperado. No Low-Ki. No Chono. No theatrics.

You and me. In the center of the ring. The way it should have been a long time ago.

If you believe what you’re saying… if this is really about honor, about fighting spirit, about the lion… then you won’t need anyone standing behind you.

I’ll be there.

And I won’t be carried out this time.

Just know this Shibata-San.

You are not fighting for the lion on June 22. You are fighting THE lion.
​

 

[Stojy]

I'll take a bonus episode any day of the week thank you very much. Enjoyed this from Tanahashi as it feels like the first serious response to the Bullet Club. Loved the fact that he's basically calling them all hypocrites because they've all used and abused New Japan at one way or another. The extra focus on Shibata worked really well too, considering their similar history. Another enjoyable read, sir, looking forward to Tanahashi/Shibata for sure.

 

[Brett]

NJPW Dominion 2013
Date: June 22, 2013
Location: Bodymaker Colosseum, Osaka, Japan

1	Hiroshi Tanahashi (c) vs. Katsuyori Shibata	Match for the IWGP Heavyweight Championship
2	Go Shiozaki (c) vs. Kazuyuki Fujita	Match for the IWGP Intercontinental Championship
3	Koji Kanemoto (c) vs. Prince Devitt	Match for the IWGP Junior Heavyweight Championship
4	Hirooki Goto, Ryusuke Taguchi, and Togi Makabe vs. Karl Anderson, Kenny Omega, and Tama Tonga	Special 6-Man Tag Match
5	Masato Tanaka (c) vs. SUWAMA	Match for the NEVER Openweight Championship
6	Bob Sapp, Keiji Mutoh, Manabu Soya, and Seiya Sanada vs. Hiroyoshi Tenzan, Satoshi Kojima, Yuji Nagata, and Tatsumi Fujinami	Special 8-Man Tag Match
7	Tetsuya Naito vs. Yujiro Takahashi	Special Singles Match
8	Katsuhiko Nakajima, Kensuke Sasaki, Riki Choshu, and Tomohiro Ishii vs. Suzuki-Gun (Lance Archer, Masakatsu Funaki, Minoru Suzuki, and Takashi IIzuka)	Riki Choshu 40 Year Celebration Match
9	Bullet Club (El Desperado and Low-Ki) vs. The Young Bucks (Matt and Nick Jackson)	Special Tag Match
10	Jyushin 'Thunder' Liger and Tiger Mask IV (c) vs. Rocky Romero and Ricochet	Match for the IWGP Junior Heavyweight Tag Team Championships

Full Show will Release on 03/08​

 

[Stojy]

It's a damn good card that's for sure. I have loved the writing and the way this BTB has been presented so far, but am equally excited at something equivalent to a full show being posted in here as well. Looking forward to what I'm assuming will see a huge reveal of another BC member to.

 

[Brett]

Episode V: Dominion

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
NJPW Dominion 6.22
June 22, 2013
Bodymaker Colosseum
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
IWGP Junior Heavyweight Tag Title Match:
Jushin 'Thunder' Liger and Tiger Mask IV (c) vs. Ricochet and Rocky Romero​

The match feels like a collision of eras before the bell even rings, Liger and Tiger Mask the past, Rocky the present, and Ricochet the future.

Liger and Tiger Mask don’t rush. From the opening exchange, they slow the pace just enough to pull Ricochet and Romero into their kind of fight. Romero tries to create quick openings with sharp tags and bursts of aggression, but every time the rhythm starts to speed up, one of the veterans cuts it off, Liger with a firm grip, Tiger Mask with a well-placed grappling interruption. There’s a quiet confidence to it.

Ricochet is the one animal who refuses to stay contained.

When he gets space, even a step, the entire match tilts. A leap from the apron becomes a springboard that forces both champions to reset. Any exchange could end in backflip reversals and nip-up returns from shoulder tackles, arm wringers, and the like. He doesn’t control the match, but he disrupts it just enough to put the champs on their back foot. And for moments at a time, that’s enough to make it feel like the titles could slip.

Liger recognizes that danger early. He starts targeting Romero more deliberately, not out of disrespect, but to contain the honorable Ricochet. Romero becomes the anchor point, the one they can keep grounded while limiting Ricochet’s ability to string together those explosive sequences. Tiger Mask complements it perfectly, cutting off angles, stepping in just as Ricochet tries to re-enter at full speed.

There’s a stretch where Ricochet finally breaks through with the hot tag. He comes in with a springboard elbow-driven clothesline. He hits Tiger Mask with his northern-lights suplex/deadlift combos and caps it with a deadlift brainbuster, almost mocking Liger. Ricochet understands the veteran mentality and throws an out of nowhere dropkick to Liger sitting on the apron, which sends him crashing to the barricades. Ricochet then hops onto the top rope with the Bodymaker Colosseum roaring and hits a huge Shooting Star Press for a 2 count. Despite the momentum, Ricochet decides to tag Rocky back in, perhaps to get a breather.

In almost a heel-like fashion, Liger comes running over on the outside and wipes Ricochets feet out from under him which sends him crashing down onto the apron and falling to the floor.

The finish comes almost abruptly thereafter.

Romero finds himself isolated. Liger has since tagged in, he pulls Rocky in, and drives him down with a brainbuster that feels heavier than everything that came before it. It’s not flashy.

Three count.

Ricochet is already back in the ring, a half-second too late, frustration written in how close it felt when the match opened up. Liger and Tiger Mask don’t celebrate wildly they just regroup, composed, as if this was always how it was going to end.

A glimpse of the future, contained by the past.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Special Tag Match:
Bullet Club (El Desperado and Low-Ki) vs. The Young Bucks (Matt and Nick Jackson)​

The reaction for the Young Bucks hits before they even step through the curtain. There’s a genuine youthful warmth to it. A stark contrast for a match including two Bullet Club members, a group in which has casted a fairly dark cloud over New Japan. Over the past few weeks, they’ve moved differently than most outsiders who pass through. They adapted, they pushed themselves and the expectations of foreign talent, and the crowd has responded in kind.

The juxtaposition what makes this feel uneasy.

Low-Ki and El Desperado don’t enter like normal opponents. They enter like someone sent to correct a problem. There’s no wasted motion, no playing to the audience. Just a quiet, simmering hostility walking through the crowd, threatening fans, ripping Young Bucks signs, and tossing away the New Japan authorized Young Buck football scarfs.

That hostility sits heavy the moment the bell rings.

It becomes clear very quickly what this match is.

Matt Jackson is the target. Not because he’s weaker, but because the Bullet Club has clearly come in with a succinct plan and are seeking to execute it. Every time he tries to create space, Low-Ki steps in with something sharp and punishing, normally a kick swiftly to the chest. The Kawada kicks that Low-Ki employs aren’t thrown for effect, but more of a disrespectful reminder of what the Bullet Club thinks of the Bucks. Desperado complements it with a kind of casual cruelty focusing on Matt Jackson's left arm.

Nick watches it build before he ever gets involved. When he finally does, it’s explosive.

The hot tag hits and the building comes alive again. Nick moves like he’s trying to erase everything that came before, quick strikes (combination bulldog and clotheslines taking out both BC members), sudden elevation (springboard crossbodies), momentum that forces Low-Ki and Desperado to react instead of dictate. For a brief stretch, it works. The match opens up, just enough to remind everyone what the Bucks have been doing since they arrived.

But it doesn’t last.

Low-Ki doesn’t chase or rush after Nick. He lets the moment pass, lets the chaos settle, and then re-centers everything back onto Matt. It’s deliberate. Almost cold in how quickly the tone shifts again.

By the time Matt is pulled back into the ring, he’s already worn down. There’s a visible cut, the result of those earlier kicks, and now every movement feels a step behind. Desperado keeps Nick out just long enough, throwing him into barricades and the like.

Just long enough for Low-Ki to climb.

BULLET STOMP.

The stomp comes down hard, direct, crushing, the kind of impact that silences a crowd for half a second before the reaction catches up. It doesn’t look like a move meant to win. It looks like a harm-inducing move.

Three count.

Almost immediately after the bell rings, Desperado and Low-Ki continue a beatdown onto Matt, forcing his cut open even deeper than before.

Nick is back in the ring again too late, same as before, but this time there’s nothing to question. No near-miss. No momentum to point to. Just the reality of what just happened. A broken down Matt Jackson lying in a pool of his own blood.

Low-Ki and Desperado don’t celebrate on the way out. They don’t need to. The point was never the victory, it was control.

And on this night, they had it.

Their music hits as they head through the crowd back to wherever the dastardly group takes up shop.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Riki Choshu 40 Year Celebration Match:
Katsuhiko Nakajima, Kensuke Sasaki, Riki Choshu, and Tomohiro Ishii
vs.
Suzuki-Gun (Lance Archer, Masakatsu Funaki, Minoru Suzuki, and Takashi Iizuka)​

For all intents and purposes, the content of this match is not what will go down as notable in the grand scheme of this story or New-Japan Pro Wrestling. No disrespect to Choshu-San.

Instead it is the information gathered from Masahiro Chono being on commentary for the match itself.

Chono would join Milano Collection AT and Shinpei Nogami. They are a bit shaken up and have not done commentary with Chono since the reveal of him being involved with the Bullet Club. Chono being a regular fixture for guest color commentary, especially during the G-1 season.

He emerged from the crowd similar to the wrestlers of his tribe and takes his seat by the two men, who again, look awfully surprised at his arrival.

Chono addresses the elephant in the room, and assures Nogami and Milano that he is not here on Bullet Club business, but is here to pay respects to a Japanese legend in Riki Choshu. When asked if his appearance was cleared; Chono responded confidently with his Bushiroad association and that even if Mutoh feels a way about him being on commentary; he can't do anything to stop him contractually and would have to take it up with him physically. Assuming Mutoh is listening, Chono loudly echoes that he has provisions if Mutoh decides to remove him physically from the booth and it would not end up well for the show or Mutoh himself.

The exchange that proved the most informative from Chono's time spent at the desk was one poked and prodded at by the ever-gossipy Milano Collection AT. That exchange is as follows:

MILANO: So, Chono-San, you said you are not here on Bullet Club business, but I would be remiss not to ask about your association and the goals of your group. You claimed that there are 6 total members not including yourself. When will all of the cards be revealed?

CHONO: Well, it is very funny you bring up the idea of "cards being revealed" because I truly think it is an apropos comparison to that of a poker game. As you well know Milano, I am a sucker for a good poker game. The hand I initially revealed was that of a suited King and Queen. For the viewers at home, that would be Shibata and Naito respectively. A very strong hand to start a poker game with wouldn't you say?

MILANO: And how did the flop go for you?

CHONO: It went well. Not everything I would've wanted out of it, but let's say two tens coming out in the form of El Desperado and Low-Ki, was the foundation I could certainly work with. The other card of the flop was something I had been working on, but unfortunately it fell through, so let's just consider that to be a 2, why don't we?

MILANO: Is tonight the night that both the turn and the river will be revealed for you?

CHONO: See the thing with that Milano, is that I do not need anything revealed to me. Despite playing the poker game, I also CONTROL the game. So I know what sits behind those turned over cards. My Jack and THEN my Ace. It is for the people watching the game that things will be revealed for.

MILANO: So you say you're controlling the poker game. The last question I will ask is this. Did you start the poker game?

CHONO: (laughs in a way that is both genuine and impressed by the usual comedic-minded Milano's line of questioning) Let's just say despite being the man over the table, the cards have dictated my place and position within our group. The ACE sits above all when it comes to playing poker.

The match would end with Riki hitting a big King-Kong Lariat on Iizuka that would result in victory for the legends team.

Chono would fade into the crowd as quickly as he came.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Special Grudge Match:
Tetsuya Naito vs. Yujiro Takahashi​

There was a time when Yujiro Takahashi and Tetsuya Naito moved in step with each other.

They came up through the same system, shared the same expectations, the same long roads, the same quiet understanding of what it took to survive in the budding New Japan of the mid-2000s. They teamed for that entire period, two young wrestlers trying to carve out space in a world that rarely gives it freely. No Limit was the name. There was a rhythm to them back then. Not perfect, not polished, but real. A genuine friendship that translated to in-ring proficiency. The kind of connection that only exists when two people are learning and growing at the same time.

Yujiro never forgot that version of things.

Naito either did or let it go willingly.

In the weeks leading up to this, Yujiro’s words weren’t angry so much as they were pointed. He talked about missed chances. About how close they were to becoming something more, tag champions, a unit that could’ve defined a division. And how Naito, in chasing something bigger, left all of it behind. Left him behind. A quiet resentment that’s been sitting for years, finally given a voice.

Naito never really answered him.

Not with words.

Yujiro enters first.

Before Yujiro can even settle into the moment, before the structure of a match can take shape, Naito is already there, slipping in from behind on the stage, cutting him down almost as soon as Yujiro walks through the curtain. A strike that is meant to sever any bond.

What follows isn’t wrestling.

Naito doesn’t rush, which speaks to Naito's relaxed character. However the relaxed nature of Naito is in complete juxtaposition with his actions when he engages in his assault on Yujiro. Every shot feels chosen, placed with a kind of intent that’s unfamiliar, even to those who’ve followed him closely. There’s no crowd acknowledgment, no playing to reaction. When Naito brings out a steel chair, it’s the first real signal that this has gone past anything that would resemble a sanctioned contest.

The referee tries to intervene, tries to create space, but it’s already too far gone. The bell rings, the match is thrown out, and it changes nothing.

The chain Naito introduces, is what finalizes the beatdown.

Naito wraps it around the neck of Yujiro without hesitation, pulling Yujiro up just enough to force him over the ropes, draping it over the top strand and tightening. Yujiro struggles, but there’s nowhere to go, nowhere to shift the weight. The image holds longer than it should as Yujiro's eyes close and his breathe draws slower and slower.

Goto, Shiozaki, and Taguchi arrive in lock step to save Yujiro from probable death?

Naito lets go before they can touch him.

He steps back, looking at what he’s done, and there’s something almost detached in it. A severing of a bond. He laughs and then he’s gone, slipping off into the crowd before anyone can close the gap.

Yujiro is left in the ring, the past he tried to bring back answered in the only way Naito seems willing to respond now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mid-Card Results and G-1 Announcement

Results:
Hiroyoshi Tenzan, Satoshi Kojima, Yuji Nagata, and Tatsumi Fujinami defeat Bob Sapp, Keiji Mutoh, Manabu Soya, and Seiya Sanada

SUWAMA defeats Masato Tanaka (c) to become the New NEVER Openweight Champion

Hirooki Goto, Ryusuke Taguchi, and Togi Makabe defeat Karl Anderson, Kenny Omega, and Tama Tonga

Go Shiozaki (c) defeats Kazuyuki Fujita to retain the IWGP Intercontinental Championship

G-1 Climax 23 Announcement

​

Following the heavily competitive match between New Japan stalwarts Goto, Taguchi, and Makabe and gaijin talent Karl Anderson, Kenny Omega, and Tama Tonga, a flash appears over the hard cam and we get an advertisement for the upcoming G-1 Climax 23.

The dates appear first showcasing that the tournament will be held over twelve events. The twelfth being the Final that is set to take place in the usual Ryogoku Sumo Hall. The field will be elevated to eleven per block and will have representatives from sister promotions CMLL and ROH.

We then lead into the rules and regulations for the tournament.

​

Two blocks, eleven participants per block.

Ten match-ups for each competitor in the block round.

Thirty minute time limit for block match-ups.

Two points for a win, one point each for a draw.

The final will be between the leading scorer of Block A vs. leading scorer of Block B. In the event of a tie come the end of the block stage, the tied participants will be assessed on how much time they were in the ring total for their respective match-ups. The participant with the lower amount of time in-ring will be granted the spot of top of their block. In the case of a forfeited match-up, the tied participant without the forfeit will drop their highest time in ring to match the amount of actual match-ups the participant with a forfeit has.

The final will have no time-limit to ensure a winner.

The winner of the G-1 Climax will compete in the main event of WrestleKingdom VIII for the IWGP Heavyweight Championship.​

This new stipulation is followed by a promise of this being the most action-packed of all G-1s of the past. Knowing they could be graded on time, it is expected that the participants will be attempting to end the matches as soon as they can, thus emphasizing urgency and action.

Then comes the slow roll of reveals

Block A
​

Spoiler

IWGP Heavyweight Champion
Hiroshi Tanahashi!!

Hirooki Goto!!

Minoru Suzuki!!

Yuji Nagata!!

Katsuhiko Nakajima!!

Manabu Soya!!

Masato Tanaka!!

Lance Archer!!

Tomohiro Ishii!!

ROH World Champion
Jay Briscoe!!

Katsuyori Shibata

​

Block B​

Spoiler

IWGP Intercontinental Champion
Go Shiozaki!!

NEVER Openweight Champion
SUWAMA!!

Keiji Mutoh!!

Togi Makabe!!

Seiya Sanada!!

Yujiro Takahashi!!

Kazuyuki Fujita!!

Representing CMLL
La Sombra!!

Karl Anderson!!

Tetsuya Naito

Unnamed Entrant??

​

The buzz is heavy throughout the arena. Bullet Club members have officially casted their bid into the G-1 and presumably will have one extra member in if the crowds inferences is correct.

Or perhaps Mutoh could have a dead ringer installed in his block to defend New Japan amongst the G-1?

We resume back to the action following this brief break to document the upcoming tournament.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
IWGP Junior Heavyweight Title Match:
Koji Kanemoto (c) vs. Prince Devitt​

There’s nowhere near the amount of tension comparatively to the matches containing the members of the Bullet Club. Prince Devitt coming off his respectful BOSJ win over El Desperado, which earned him this title shot against Kanemoto. Both men have tremendous respect for one another and that is no better demonstrated than the handshake given prior to the match beginning.

Kanemoto carries himself like he always does: no wasted movement, no need to prove anything beyond what happens between the ropes. Devitt meets him the same way, composed, measured, a quiet confidence that’s grown sharper with every year he’s spent refining himself in Japan.

The opening stretch is deliberate. Kanemoto works from his classic bag of tricks low kicks, testing Devitt’s base early. Devitt answers with balance and footwork, circling just outside range, snapping in with clean forearms and headlocks aplenty to contain Kanemoto's striking frenzy. There’s a patience to it, both men mapping each other out before committing to anything larger.

Kanemoto is the first to press.

He closes distance with a flurry of strikes, the kind that made him so dangerous at his peak, tight, efficient combinations that force Devitt to absorb rather than dodge. A stiff mid-kick folds Devitt just enough for Kanemoto to grab hold, dragging him down into a grounded headlock. Kanemoto leans into it, using leverage and pressure, trying to slow Devitt’s rhythm before it can fully develop.

Devitt shifts, finds space, and escapes cleanly as only he can do. This match is awfully reminiscent of that of Tiger Mask vs. Dynamite Kid. Tiger Mask / Kanemoto with the precise and deliberate offense and Dynamite Kid / Devitt with flashy, quick reversals. Devitt escapes one of these holds and nips back to his feet in one motion, immediately answering with a dropkick that lands square and resets the pace. From there, he starts to build.

Devitt’s offense comes in layers. First the speed, quick arm drags, a deep armdrag into am armhold that forces Kanemoto to work his way up. Then the escalation and explosion, a running forearm in the corner, followed by a snap suplex. He’s beginning to dictate where the match takes place.

Kanemoto resists in the way only he can.

A sudden opening appears, Devitt charges, and Kanemoto steps in with a perfectly timed enzuigiri that sends Devitt really backwards and onto his posteriorr. From there, Kanemoto leans back into what he does best. Kicks to the legs, the ribs, the chest, each one thrown with intent, each one wearing Devitt down piece by piece. When Devitt tries to rise, Kanemoto meets him with a ferocious roundhouse kick to the head, snapping his head back, forcing him to reset again.

Devitt turns the tides and begins targeting Kanemoto’s legs, softening it with quick strikes and transitional submissions, looking to limit the power behind those kicks and counters. He strings together a clean sequence, a dragon-screw leg whip to a heel hook, then back to his feet with a basement dropkick, followed by a devestating short DDT with Kanemoto on his knees.

Devitt fires first, a forearm that lands clean, followed by a second. Kanemoto absorbs it, steps forward, and fires back with a strike that carries more weight. Then another kick, higher this time, catching Devitt near the temple. The balance shifts again.

As the match moves deeper, both men begin reaching further into their arsenal.

Devitt responds to the kick with a pele kick of his own, flooring Kanemoto flat next to the turnbuckle. Devitt climbs, looking to take to the air, he launches into a double foot stomp aimed square at Kanemoto’s chest, but Kanemoto shifts just enough, to where Devitt has to readjust to land on the mat rather than Kanemoto's chest.

Devitt rolls through, quick to recover, but Kanemoto is already up and hits a heavyweight-level lariat dropping Devitt to the map.

Kanemoto attempts to end it quickly with a capture into a suplex position, looking for a high-angle brainbuster, but Devitt fights free mid-lift, twisting out and landing behind. Devitt springs off the ropes and rushes back with a sling-blade as Kanemoto turns back.

The crowd senses it.

Devitt doesn’t hesitate. He pulls Kanemoto up, and aims to hit his Bloody Sunday brainbuster

Devitt would hit the move.

BLOODY SUNDAY.

Devitt hooks the leg.

The referee slides into position.

And the count begins.

1....2.....3

Prince Devitt grabs the title, his third time achieving this great goal, but the look in his face and the tears rolling down his eyes, showcase how much this time meant to him.

As Devitt looks to the crowd, the lights dim. A cool air permeates through the Colosseum.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
FLASHBACK
Noge Dojo Tryouts
March 13, 2003
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
​

The room wreaks of sweat and depravity.

It’s early, but the mats are already worn from the first drills. The walls of the Noge Dojo don’t feel welcoming. And for such a prestigious company it is attached to, reigns an underground and gritty feeling. Five young men stand scattered across the floor, each trying not to show how much this moment matters. Five of which have outlasted the about fifty other men attempting to make their way into the dojo.

Hirooki Goto looks grounded, even here. KUSHIDA is flashy, precise and a natural on some levels. Yujiro Takahashi clearly not here for his innate athletic ability, rather his unspoken charisma. And Tetsuya Naito… Naito looks like he belongs, even if he hasn’t earned it yet. There’s an ease to him, a rhythm that doesn’t feel forced.

And then there’s the fifth.

Too thin. Unfinished. His frame looks like it hasn’t caught up to his ambition. When he runs the ropes, there’s a hesitation before each rebound, like he’s thinking through something the others don't have to. But he doesn’t stop. He keeps going, again and again, pushing himself to match the pace set by the others, even when his body lags just behind.

At the edge of the room, the eyes that matter are watching.

Jushin Liger stands with his arms folded, unreadable. Antonio Inoki doesn't budge an inch. Shinya Hashimoto watches from a wheelchair as he’s measuring something deeper than technique.

They don’t speak during the drills.

The exercises intensify. Bumps, strikes, conditioning. The sound of bodies hitting the mat echoes again and again, blending into something almost rhythmic.

The fifth man struggles.

Not in effort, never in effort. He throws himself into every rep, every drill, every fall. But there’s a fraction of a second where doubt creeps in, and in a place like this, a fraction is enough to be seen.

When it ends, the silence feels heavier than the training.

The five stand in a loose line, breathing hard, sweat still dripping onto the mats beneath them. No one looks at each other. They’re all staring forward, waiting for something that’s already been decided.

Inoki speaks first. It’s brief. Direct. Names are acknowledged. Goto. KUSHIDA. Naito. Yujiro.

Each one steps forward in turn, absorbing the reality of what comes next.

Then there’s a pause.

The fifth man doesn’t hear his name.

It’s not said.

There’s no harshness in it, no dramatic dismissal. Not ready. Not now.

He bows anyway. Deeper than the others did. Longer, too. Tears running down his eyes. When he straightens, the room already feels different, like it’s moved on without him. The other men quietly celebrate through deep breaths.

The accepted four are led further inside. The doors close behind them.

He’s left in the hallway.

For a moment, he just stands there, unsure of what to do with his hands, his breath, the space around him. The sounds from inside the dojo fade, replaced by a stillness.

That’s when he hears footsteps.

Masahiro Chono isn’t supposed to be here in any official sense. He wasn’t part of the evaluation. But he’s been watching, leaning against the wall earlier, quiet, observant in his own way.

Now he steps forward.

CHONO: “You worked harder than all of them, young man.”

The man looks up, surprised.

Chono studies him for a second, like he’s deciding how much to say.

CHONO: “You’re not ready for this place. They are right.”

It lands.

Then Chono exhales, just slightly, and his tone shifts.

CHONO: “But this place also isn't ready for you.”

A pause.

CHONO: “Go somewhere else. Learn. Get stronger. Find something that’s yours. Don’t try to fit into this place from the outside.”

The man listens, every word settling deeper than the last.

Chono gives a small nod, almost to himself.

CHONO: “Shine out there. If you can do that… maybe one day, you won’t have to ask to come back. They will come begging. Or hey even I might be the one asking or begging”

Chono laughs cutting the tension.

The man bows, lost for words.

Chono turns to leave. Then doubles back.

CHONO: "I didn't catch your name btw..."

?????: "My name...... my name is IBUSHI KOTA"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
RESUME TO THE PRESENT
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
​

Kota Ibushi stands in front of Devitt as the lights return.

Devitt looks up, more curious than anything at first.

Ibushi doesn’t speak or strike.

The black t-shirt is plain at a distance, but up close, the insignia is unmistakable. The skull. The guns. The mark that’s already begun to reshape the company from within. It sits on him naturally, like something earned.

For a moment, the building doesn’t understand what it’s seeing.

Devitt does.

There’s a shift in his expression. Something close to recognition, like a move on a board he didn’t expect, but immediately understands. Devitt privately had a freindship with Ibushi, and the story of his tryout that went so poorly. He knew how much it infuriated Ibushi and fueled his independent rise through Japan.

Ibushi doesn’t posture. He just stands there, meeting Devitt’s eyes, calm in a way that feels almost detached.

The same man who once lacked confidence under the watch of Liger, Inoki, and Hashimoto now stands without hesitation in front of the man who is the ace of the junior heavyweight division.

Ibushi lifts his chin slightly.

Devitt slowly rises to his feet.

The space between them feels small.

Around them, the crowd begins to react, not all at once, but in waves, confusion giving way to realization.

Ibushi doesn’t break eye contact.

He taps the insignia once, almost absentmindedly, as if to confirm what’s already clear.

Then he steps back.

A lingering moment that hangs heavier than any strike could.

Devitt watches him go, expression unreadable now, the gears already turning behind his eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
IWGP Heavyweight Title Match:
Hiroshi Tanahashi (c) vs. Katsuyori Shibata
All Members of Bullet Club Banned from Ringside
​

The building has already shifted before the music even hits. They know what comes next. The arrival of Kota Ibushi being usurped by what may be the most important match in New Japan's recent history.

There’s a weight to this moment that doesn’t need to be announced. The kind that settles in the crowd naturally, voices a little quieter, anticipation stretched tighter.

And then, unexpectedly,



Hiroshi Tanahashi comes out first.

There’s a flicker of confusion that ripples through the audience. The champion didn’t wait. He didn't demand the second entrance. Whether it was his choice or something leveraged behind the scenes, Chono’s influence lingering where it shouldn’t, doesn’t really matter now. What matters is Tanahashi making the choice to set the tone.

Tanahashi walks with purpose, but surprisingly, Tanahashi walks and poses with his normal golden retreiver-esque energy. Many expected to see a different Tanahashi present, especially considering he is facing a man who put him out of action for around two months.

He acknowledges the fans, almost instinctual rather than played up. The guitar air-strum comes as well. Tanahashi bounces into the ring and poses with intent. This entrance spoke the words of "I am not scared of you and you will not dictate who I am".

Then the lights shift.



"Black Sabbath" comes on and slowly paces up.

As the riff begins, Katsuyori Shibata emerges from the stands.

Not the ramp. Never the ramp.

Through the people. From the undisclosed locker room of the Bullet Club.

At first, it’s just movement, fans turning, parting, unsure of what they’re seeing. Then it becomes clear. His face is different.

​

Something completely different than what we are accustomed to seeing from Shibata. Typically a barebones basic presentation, it is nearly antithetical to Shibatas character to have what appears to be war-paint on.

He doesn’t acknowledge anyone.

The fans are close, but there’s a space around him anyway. Not because they’re told to move, but because they know better.

You can hear it. Feel it. The undercurrent of support that follows the champion, even now. But Shibata doesn’t react to it. Doesn’t challenge it. Doesn’t acknowledge it at all.

He just keeps walking.

Down the steps. Through the aisles. Past faces that shout, that try to get something from him, anything. There’s nothing given back. No glance. No change in expression. Just that same forward motion, steady and unbroken. Staring daggers at the champion.

The closer he gets to the ring, the quieter it feels.

Tanahashi watches him the entire time.

Tracking him, step by step, like he’s trying to understand what’s changed and what hasn’t.

Shibata reaches ringside and pauses.

Their eyes meet.

A moment that hangs there, heavy with everything that doesn’t need to be said.

Then Shibata steps onto the apron, wipes his boots without looking down, and enters the ring.

The distance between them closes.

Yet the distance of the two men's friendships has grown even further.

~Match Begins~
​

The bell sounds and neither man moves right away. They stand across from each other. Tanahashi’s eyes search through Shibata's like he’s trying to find something familiar in the man in front of him. There’s history there, and it shows.

Shibata doesn’t return that empathy.

He stands upright, shoulders squared, eyes fixed but empty of anything personal. Mechanical in a way that feels robotic. Like whatever once connected them has been stripped out completely.

They circle.

Tanahashi is the first to step in, testing with a collar-and-elbow tie-up. Shibata meets him immediately, low base, strong through the hips. The struggle is brief. Tanahashi shifts, transitions into a wrist control, trying to pull him off balance, but Shibata resists and breaks clean with a sharp shove.

Reset.

Tanahashi adjusts.

The next exchange comes quicker, he dips low, feinting high before chopping into Shibata’s lead leg with a quick dropkick to the thigh. Not flashy, not loud, but precise. Almost unlike Tanahashi though, to feint. He circles again, comes back with a stomp to the knee, this one heavier, forcing Shibata to shift his stance just slightly.

That’s the target.

Tanahashi stays on it. Low dropkick to the knee, snapping it backward just enough to make a statement. He follows with a dragon screw leg whip, catching the leg when Shibata goes for a kick and twisting through with fluid precision, sending Shibata rolling across the mat.

Tanahashi isn’t trying to overwhelm him early. But garner any bit of momentum or edge he can get.

Shibata rises almost immediately.

He steps forward again, and this time he doesn’t wait for Tanahashi to initiate.

The first forearm from Shibata lands hard.

Direct. A straight shot to the side of Tanahashi’s neck that snaps his head just enough. Shibata doesn’t follow with a flurry. He places the next one, slightly higher, just under the jawline. Then another, shorter, digging into the same area.

It’s methodical.

Tanahashi fires back, trying to create space, but Shibata stays inside it. He occupies the pocket. Unafraid of any return Tana could have. A sudden snapmare pulls Tanahashi down, and Shibata follows with a stiff kick to the spine.

Shibata launches his knee into the spine of Tanahashi and keeps it there, gripping Tana's neck for a chinlock.

He knows exactly where he’s working.

Tanahashi tries to break the rhythm, slipping behind for a waistlock, but Shibata widens his base and drops his weight. Shibata turns, dragging Tanahashi back down into a grounded front facelock, capturing the arm with his legs. He leans into it, pressing down, forcing Tanahashi to carry his weight through the neck and shoulders.

Tanahashi fights up, inch by inch, pushing against Shibata’s grip. He manages to slip free just enough to create space, and immediately goes back to the leg, another sharp kick to the thigh, then a second, then a third, building rhythm now. He hooks the leg again, spins through another dragon screw, this one tighter, more forceful, keeping Shibata grounded longer.

For a moment, Tanahashi has control.

He grabs the leg, twisting at the ankle, trying to isolate it further, but Shibata rolls up through it, reaching forward and grabbing Tanahashi by the hair, dragging him down into another strike to the neck. Disruptive. It breaks Tanahashi’s flow completely.

They rise again, closer this time.

Tanahashi throws the first slap. Black paint goes flying off Shibata's face and coats Tanahashi's hand.

It cracks across Shibata’s face, sharp and emotional. Shibata barely reacts, his head turns slightly with the impact, then returns to center.

He answers with one of his own.

Heavier. Cleaner.

Tanahashi fires again. Then Shibata. Back and forth, the strikes building in intensity, each one landing harder than the last. The crowd starts to rise with it, each connection echoing louder, the exchange pulling them in.

Tanahashi’s last slap comes with everything behind it. Even a loud roar from Tanahashi, putting everything into the strike.

Shibata absorbs it.

And then, He spins.

The back palm comes fast and tight, cutting across Tanahashi’s jaw with a noise that sounds like a gunshot ringing through the colosseum.

​

Tanahashi’s legs give out from underneath him. Could this be it?

Shibata does not go for a cover. He allows Tanahashi to get his bearings and rise to his feet.

Tanahashi tries to answer, throws a strike back, but it lacks the same snap. Shibata slips inside it and drives a knee up into the gut of Tana, folding him just enough to take control.

Then he sends him out of the ring.

A hard Irish whip through the ropes, Tanahashi stumbling to the outside rather than landing clean. He catches himself on the barricades outside. Shibata follows him out.

Tanahashi barely has time to assemble himself before Shibata grabs him by the wrist and whips him into the barricade. Tanahashi’s back hits hard, the metal rattling on impact, and the crowd reacts sharply.

Shibata doesn’t let it breathe.

He steps back just enough, then charges mafia kick, straight through Tanahashi’s face, sending him over the barricade.

Shibata quickly hops over the barricade

Another whip this time from a shorter distance, and to the opposite side of the barricade from before. Tanahashi hits the barricade awkwardly, shoulder first, his body twisting on impact. He tries to steady himself, one hand gripping the rail, but Shibata is already there again.

Another mafia kick.

This one lands more precise, catching Tanahashi just under the jaw, pushing his head and neck over the barricade bringing him back to ringside. There’s no rhythm to this. No back-and-forth. Just one man dictating everything.

Tanahashi is flopping around, hardly able to stand.

Shibata grabs him by the hair, pulling him up, guiding him back toward the ring.

Leading him. Controlling him.

He rolls Tanahashi under the bottom rope, sliding in after him without hesitation. The referee tries to reassert control, stepping in slightly, but Shibata doesn’t acknowledge it.

Tanahashi is down in the corner, slumped against the turnbuckles.

Shibata backs up across the ring.

For the first time since the back palm, he creates distance and it feels intentional.

Tanahashi lifts his head just slightly, still trying to find his bearings, still not fully there. It’s enough for Shibata.

He sprints.

​

The dropkick comes fast, both feet driving straight into Tanahashi’s head, snapping it back against the turnbuckles with a jarring impact.

The momentum carries Shibata through as he lands and rolls out, already pushing back to his feet.

He pulls Tanahashi in and goes for the first pinfall of the match.

Tana strongly kicks out at 2.5!

He stays over Tanahashi, pressing the advantage with that same cold rhythm, short mocking kicks. Little rabbit shots to the chest, the shoulder, the side of the head. Not thrown to finish. To remind him he hasn’t recovered.

Tanahashi absorbs them as best he can, still trying to steady himself, still fighting through the fog. Shibata adds a little more weight behind the next one, then another, each landing with a bit more intent, a bit more bite.

And then one comes just a fraction too slow.

Tanahashi catches the leg.

It happens instantly arm locking around the ankle before Shibata can pull it back. And for the first time since the back palm strike, there’s urgency in Tanahashi’s movement.

The torque is violent.

Shibata’s body spins awkwardly, his knee and ankle twisting under him as he’s sent crashing to the mat. It looks like something might've given out right there.

Shibata rolls instinctively, trying to shake it off, but he doesn’t get the chance.

Tanahashi is already on him.

The daze is gone now. The doubt, the delay. Gone. He grabs the leg again, dragging Shibata back toward center, Shibata bouncing on the other leg, trying to slap Tanahashi to return him to his concussed state, but Tana drops another dragon screw, this one tighter, more precise, targeting the joint.

Shibata grimaces for the first time in the match

Tana pulls him into position, and leaves his leg exposed. Shibata is downed nursing the ankle. Tana jumps quickly to the top rope and hits a short High Fly Flo, but not to the chest. Directly across the leg. His body crashes over Shibata’s knee, compressing it against the mat in a way that forces a reaction this time. Shibata’s hand hits the canvas once, not in surrender, but in reflex.

Tana pounces, captures the leg, steps over, and locks it in.

Texas Cloverleaf.

Tanahashi sits back, sinking his weight into it, pulling the legs high while folding Shibata’s body underneath him. The pressure is immediate, concentrated through the knee and lower back, forcing Shibata to carry all of it at once.

Tanahashi sits deeper. The hold tightens.

For the first time in the match, Shibata is captured, not exchanging, not dictating, not controlling.

Shibata doesn’t reach for the ropes right away.

He shifts his weight, inching his hands beneath him, pushing up against the torque instead of away from it. It’s slow, grinding, every inch fought for. Tanahashi adjusts, tries to pull him back down, but Shibata keeps building, attempting to roll through the submission. He succeeds in this escape and is able to launch Tanahashi off him pushing him back against the ropes.

They separate.

But only for a second.

Tanahashi is back on him immediately, grabbing the leg again, trying to reapply control, but Shibata kicks him off, harder this time, creating space. The leg is compromised. It shows in the way he plants, in the slight hesitation before he steps.

Tanahashi sees it.

He charges, but Shibata meets him with a forearm. Not as sharp as before, but still enough to halt him. Tanahashi fires back. Then Shibata. Back and forth again, but now it’s different, less even, more desperate. Tanahashi’s strikes carry urgency, Shibata’s carry a level of survival.

Tanahashi tries to cut him off, another attempt at the leg, reaching low, but Shibata sprawls just enough, grabbing hold and pulling him into a sleeper.

Rear naked choke.

It snaps in tight.

Tanahashi struggles immediately, hands fighting at the grip, trying to peel it away. Shibata leans back, dragging him down, forcing him to carry his weight again, this time through the neck, compressing everything, targeting the weakness he’s been building all match.

The crowd rises.

Tanahashi fades, just slightly.

Then he shifts.

A step back. Another. He throws all of his weight into the corner, driving Shibata into the turnbuckles. The impact loosens the hold just enough. Tanahashi turns, breaks free, and fires off a quick slingblade, snapping Shibata down to the mat.

Both men stay down for a moment.

Breathing.

Resetting.

Tanahashi moves first.

He pulls himself up with the ropes, eyes locked on Shibata, who’s slower to rise now, the leg clearly bothering him more with every second. Tanahashi doesn’t rush this time. He waits, just long enough.

Then he runs.

Another slingblade.

Cleaner. Faster. It drops Shibata again, this time causing him to roll over to his stomach, and Tanahashi doesn’t waste a second. He heads to the ropes, climbing to the top, each step deliberate despite the fatigue setting in.

The crowd knows what’s coming.

High Fly Flo!

He launches, and crashes down across Shibata’s back.

The impact folds Shibata into the mat, driving the air out of him. Tanahashi rolls through, not for a cover, but to reposition. He grabs Shibata, turning him over, pulling him flat onto his back, making sure there’s no space left.

He climbs again.

Slower now.

Shibata doesn’t move.

Tanahashi steadies himself at the top, looks down for just a second.

Then he leaps.

High Fly Flo!

This time to the front, flush, full weight, driving through Shibata’s chest and into the canvas beneath him. The ring shakes on impact, the crowd erupting as Tanahashi hooks the leg deep, pressing down with everything he has left.

One.

Two.

Three.

The bell rings.

Tanahashi stays in the pin for a second longer, still draped over Shibata, still holding the leg, like he needs to feel it to believe it’s over.

When he finally rolls off, he doesn’t celebrate right away.

He just sits there.

Breathing. Still unready to celebrate and it appears Tanahashi has discovered something before anyone else in the building has.

Looking at Shibata. Shibata lays flat and then a similar scene from a previous match occurs. Shibata begins to laugh. Maniacally.

Exactly the same as what was seen by Desperado following his BOSJ Final against Devitt.

The lights dim once more.

Though the lights are dim, camera's flashing reveal Shibata has risen and has Tanahashi in a rear naked choke. The element of surprise allowing the opening for Shibata to lock-in the hold.

However, this hold is precise for a more particular reason. Shibata faces Tanahashi towards one of the jumbotrons, which then illuminates the arena with a pre-recording.

THE ARRIVAL
​

The Bullet Club insignia first flashes onto the screen, which then turns to text. What looks to be a poem. The poem moves with the opening portions of "Mr. Crowley", which plays in the background.

He fell from gold, cast out of the light
A king without a throne, swallowed by night
They said his name like it meant nothing now
But silence only sharpened his vow

From exile he watched, he waited, he learned
Every bridge behind him quietly burned
Not broken, just changed in the dark
A colder flame, a different spark

He walks back in, no grace, no forgiveness given
The Antichrist has now risen​

The screen than transforms the typical Bullet Club logo into a new one....

"MR. CROWLEY"

​

The lights return and a dark-haired, sinister presenting Kazuchika Okada is in the ring with both Shibata and Tanahashi.

Shibata tosses Tanahashi into Okada, in which Okada responds with hitting a devastating short arm ripcord-lariat.

Okada nearly takes Tanahashi's head off with this. And as the move completes, the entire New Japan locker room comes rushing down.

Okada motions to Shibata to run to the outside. And both men escape. The two men are met by the other four members of the Bullet Club.


It is now apparent.

Low-Ki

El Desperado

Kota Ibushi

Tetsuya Naito

Katsuyori Shibata

and

"The Antichrist" Kazuchika Okada.

All six men throw their hands up and meet in the middle with devil horns. Bonded by being outcasts. Bonded by being tossed aside.

And like the devil sent out from Heaven, they have returned to make New Japan into a living Hell.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~​

 

[Brett]

Episode VI: "Climax"
Out in April!​