Requiem for the Wrestling Few

By Son Rhandi

Chapter 09: 'The Stage is Set'

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Seiuchin had been doing a good job of hiding his depression, for the most part. From what anyone could see, he was his usual bright self. That in itself was a damned lie… Terry's hospitalization, Gazelle Man's disappearance, even his reappearance had pushed his stress level steadily skyward. Something was changing in Gazelle Man, he could feel it. It was sort of angry, like Terry's vibe. Being partly animal, he was more in-tune to things like that. Gazelle Man, on the other hand, was too much man and not enough gazelle to pick up. The walrus rubbed his weary eyes and poured himself a fresh cup of joe.

"Gazelle…You've gotta end this…Things can only get worse…" He put his muzzle to the mug and took a sip. "Yecch…" He placed the hot cup back on its coaster. "I wonder what it is I'm doing wrong..? It's always too bitter when I make it… Gaz makes wonderful coffee…"

His thoughts drifted to the times where they all sat together over coffee, watching TV in the next room, just being men… He couldn't understand why any of them would knowingly break that up. "…Why are you so set on this…?"

The pinniped heard a light rapping at the door. "Seiuchin?"

Gazelle Man… "It's open. Come in."

And in he did come. "Mmm. Smells like coffee," the stag smiled as the aroma entered his nostrils. "Is there enough for two?"

"Help yourself. It's not very good, though."

"You never were much at that, were you?" Gazelle gave a little snicker and made his way to the kitchen, helped himself to the brew, and gave a choking sputter from its bitterness. "Ughck..!!" The blood-red buck stuck his head under the faucet and rinsed out his mouth, wiping it dry with the back of his hand. "When was the last time you changed the filter, Seiuchin..?!"

The walrus placed a hand on his head. "Oops. Maybe that's it," he chuckled, a little embarrassed. "You know, I don't think I put in a new one after the last time I tried to make coffee…"

Gazelle Man sighed and put on a fresh pot. A few minutes later, he reemerged with two cups of the dark stuff. "You don't like yours very sweet, right?" The stag inquired, removing Seiuchin's old cup from its coaster and setting the new one in its place. "I used two tablespoons plus two of those cream packs. That should be fine for you." He took a seat beside. The pinniped lifted his cup to his mouth and took a sip.

"Better?"

"Perfect," he replied, giving a satisfied little grin. "You always make great coffee."

Gazelle Man nodded in thanks to that and took a sip of his own. Black, as always. "You can too, so long as you remember to replace the filter."

"Hmm." Seiuchin trailed a finger along the mouth of the cup. "Are you staying?"

"No. I'm going back there. I've explained myself to Harabote and told him I'd be going back there. …He's relieved me of my position on the Japan guard. One of the Gen-EXers will take my place and another for Terry, though only temporarily for him."

The walrus heaved a heavy sigh, tapping his index finger on the side of his cup. "My mind's made up," Gazelle reaffirmed. "I've already broken the news to the others, so after this, I'm gone. I just wanted to see you before I left."

"Don't do this. It's a mistake."

The stag shrugged. "Maybe, but if that's the case, I'll find it out for myself."

"It may already be too late…"

Gazelle patted him on the shoulder then stood to leave. "Men can't learn unless they foul up somewhere along the line. That's how we grow. Maybe we'll see each other again sometime."

Seiuchin didn't look up. He just sat there stroking the cup with his index finger and stared ahead blankly. Gazelle Man's ears lowered, guilt beginning to gnaw at him. "I'll, uh… see you again soon, okay..?" The pinniped lowered his head. The buck rubbed the back of his head, then backed out the door before his faith could waver any further. "Bye… Seiu…"

The door clicked shut. Gazelle rested his back against the door and buried his face in his hands, sighing audibly. I didn't think this would be so hard. I hate goodbyes…

The red gazelle stuffed his hands in his pockets and headed for the exit. It was only natural that he'd feel badly about leaving. To leave all he knew in pursuit of power, selfish on his part but it was too late for him to back out. No more Muscle League, but he'd still know where to find everyone. Friendships weren't so easy to get out of, after all. …To feel a sense of guilt and grief, he wasn't nearly as callous as everyone thought. As he pushed open the glass double doors of the center, it crossed his mind that he may never pass through them again….

He took what had to have been the world's longest train ride back to Fuji basin, back to Gamera, back to the open arms of the Animus kids. Well into the night, about 10:45, maybe 11, he arrived.

"Gazelle!" Tamerlion threw his arms up in a welcoming fashion. "So happy to see you again!"

"Yeah…" The crimson stag smiled politely.

"What's wrong? You seem a little down."

"Muscle League dropped me because of my want for this. Please teach me all that you can while you're here on Earth."

"I understand. Come inside."

Tamerlion led him to Minotoro's quarter, its auto port open and the manbull laying in his street gear from before reading a magazine of some sort. "Minotoro!" The lion popped his head in and beckoned, to which the bull looked up in response. "Since we're going to be out all night for your refresher course, I'm gonna let Gazelle Man use your bed for now. I haven't gotten the other room set up yet."

"My bed?" Minotoro questioned incredulously. "What about Huskitooth? Can't he finish up while we're out?"

The lion resisted the urge to smash his fist into the bull's face. "Why don't you try that again?" He approached with a full smile, his fangs gleaming in the fluorescent lighting. "This time, make it sound like you want to give up your space for one night…" He came in closer, whispering: "Unless you want me to hurt you again…

"Um… L-L-Like I was sayin'," Minotoro changed his tune. "I'd be honored if you'd use my bed, Mister Gazelle Man. It's a little below a wrestler of your magnitude, but I hope you'll find it tolerable for tonight. "

Tamerlion nodded. "Better! Better! Now come on, we've got a long night ahead of us."

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Harabote was embedded in a very somber mood after all this. He wondered if he made the right decision, removing him from the Muscle League, but there was no way he could fulfill his duties if he was constantly moving back and forth between them and the Animus kids. The old man took off his glasses and slumped in his chair, sleep still a fleeting butterfly. He grabbed the remote and turned on the TV, ready to catch the late news. Stocks, recession, crime, no news is good news, they say…

The reception became horribly distorted after about twenty minutes. He could make out sound fragments of someone other than the newscaster. Then as the picture cleared, his eyes widened. Tamerlion again, but not just because it was him. He appeared there on his screen, clothes half hanging from his body, a patch covering his right eye (a thing he hadn't remembered seeing in the past) and the whole of him mottled with blood.

"Citizens of Japan--no, of Earth! I am disgusted, dismayed!! We were attacked, savagely attacked by members of the Muscle League! They fought not as wrestlers, but as members of a street gang, those Gen-EXers!! I tried to try and save him, but they took my right eye..! This blood on my body, it's not just mine..! He died in my arms! They… They killed him! They killed Minotoro and stole his body! The Muscle League has taken our gifts of love and peace… and threw them back in our faces!! This is to Harabote Muscle, director of the Muscle League! Your boys took one of Animus' best students, so I demand you give us one of yours to compensate! Deliver us Seiuchin or this place, this entire nation, it's all going to Hell!!"

Harabote just stared for a moment in shock. As he slowly began to realize just what the accusations were, he could feel his rage billowing upward. Then, suddenly, felt as if everything was spiraling downward. The old man attempted to lean against his desk for leverage, but he slipped and fell to the floor. His left side had gone entirely numb and his head was pounding, an understatement in itself. From what he could tell, his muscles were having violent spasms. Nothing he could feel, though, or even make sense of. All he could feel was the crush carpet on his skin, the cool, dark carpet… Dark carpet… Dark…………..