Resurrection Continent
Weekly Pro
January 1973
Around the time that Yuzo Yamashiro defeated the brothers Kobel and Bund, who called themselves "The Orochons," after an unspeakable battle to the death, a gruesome and brutal journey continued in the Alaskan wilderness.
The fierce battle between professional wrestler "Oriental Cat" Nabel and former professional boxer Yubel unfolded in the Alaskan wilderness during a harsh winter with temperatures near minus 45 degrees Celsius. Nabel emerged victorious by a narrow margin.
Nabel was wounded by Yubel's devastating punch, but the damage was not severe enough to be fatal. But then—Yubel, having been sent flying by Nabel's powerful throw, failed to break his fall and was slammed hard into the frozen ground, breaking his neck and shoulder bones. In his near-death state, he entrusted everything to Nabel.
"Hey Nabel... I'm leaving the rest to you. I have a Solingen hunting knife in my bag. If I die, cut off the tattoo on my back and give it to young master Yuzo. Of course, that's only if the young master fights you and wins..."
As Yubel was gasping for breath and about to die, a ferocious grizzly bear (polar bear) suddenly attacked. Judging from the timing, it was clearly a "stray bear," and terribly agitated due to hunger.
Now, there was no sign of caribou in this desolate, white wilderness. It was literally a world of death.
"Aaaargh"
With a roar that shook the heavens and the earth, the gigantic gray creature, nearly half a meter in size, charged forward like a heavy tank. Having caught the scent of blood, the bear had gone completely mad. It was a desperate, life-or-death situation. Probably, any normal human would have fallen into a state of suspended animation just by being faced with the ferocious beasts true nature, and become its prey.
However, even at the very last moment, Nabel still clung to hope for survival.
But what was it that sustained Nabel...?
It wasn't the martial arts skills he'd cultivated during his long career as a professional wrestler, nor was it a mere will to live. At that moment, what flashed through Nabel's mind like lightning was the feeling, "No matter what happens, I'm going to survive and fight against young master Yuzo. If my and Yuper's tattoos disappear, the whereabouts of the Orochon treasure will become unknown."
Nabel's determination momentarily halted the bear, but as it prepared to attack again, or rather, even a split second earlier, something leaped through the air towards Nabel's body.
It didn't fly in the direction the bear was charging, but directly to the side.
Nabel, nicknamed the "Oriental Cat," leaped over three meters despite being heavily bundled up for the cold. Landing where the bushes had just parted the snow, Nabel's body tumbled down the slope like a log.
"There's no way I can win if I fight him head-on. I just need to get away from Yubel's corpse, and run."
It was a last-minute defensive measure that came to mind in a flash. Moreover, the moment he landed, Nabel firmly clutched the bag that Yuper had left behind. The sudden change had even the ferocious grizzly bear in the old storehouse momentarily confused, but its hunger instinct ignored such obstacles.
With a tremendous rumble, kicking up snow and frozen ground, he ran down the slope... About ten meters ahead, Nabel stood tall
He was already ready for battle.
In just a few seconds, Nabel had made a 180-degree change of base from defense to offense. This was the essence of wrestling.
In his hand, he gripped a gleaming Solingen hunting knife. This blade—the sharpest in the world—possessed immense power, capable of cleaving through bone and even piercing five-millimeter steel plate without suffering a single chip.
The starving bear was utterly blinded by rage.
Driven mad by the scent of blood, it launched a reckless charge.
About 1.5 meters in front of Nabel, the bear reared up high on its hind legs.
"Raaargh!"
A roar that heralded death... Its massive maw, revealing a crimson tongue and razor-sharp teeth, loomed close, ready to swallow Nabel whole.
In that instant, Nabel launched himself through the air, thrusting his knife out before him in a flying headbutt—an aerial maneuver favored by Mexican wrestlers.
"Hah!"
The impact was solid and devastating.
The Solingen hunting knife, driven deep into the throat of the bear as it rose, sliced instantly from throat to belly under the weight of Nabel’s body.
"Gyaaa!"
With a dying roar, the beast lashed out with its right forepaw, but the blow sliced fruitlessly through the air.
Drenched from head to toe in bright red blood, Nabel stood with an expression of disbelief before the grizzly bear's carcass, which lay like a small hill upon the white expanse of the wilderness.
"How did this colossal monster—a creature said to deflect even automatic rifle rounds—fall?"
Before long, Nabel knelt motionless upon the snow, turned toward the distant west, and offered a profound prayer to the God of the Orochons.
Above, something white began to flutter down in silence.
Mount McKinley—known as Alaska’s sacred mountain—was veiled in white haze, and the snow was pure white, dry, and powdery... The onset of a true Alaskan winter was a silent warning that rejected the survival of all living things, humans and animals alike.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we have now arrived at Honolulu International..."
The plane had entered a steep descent, causing the safety belts to creak.
A vast, star-filled sky spread out above.
It had taken off from Tokyo International Airport at 10:30 a.m.—a flight of about six hours—but having crossed the International Date Line along the way, the hands of the clock had been turned back.
In Hawaii, it was already nearly eight o'clock at night.
As they began the final, gentle descent, a sea of bright lights stretched out before them through the window. They must be above Barbers Point. The lights of Barr Harbor rose to the left, and the beautifully curving coastline to the right was the world-famous Waikiki Beach.
"Alright, we're almost there!"
Giant Baba spoke with a practiced ease—as casually as if he had just made a quick trip to Osaka or Sapporo.
To Baba, Honolulu, Hawaii, was like his own backyard; it was an indispensable home base for his professional wrestling training camps.
Even the immigration officials, upon catching sight of Baba’s massive frame, flashed a friendly smile and greeted him with, "Aloha, Mr. Big..."
Amidst the sweet Hawaiian melodies and the pleasant scent of flowers—having flown from wintry Tokyo to the eternal summer of Hawaii—Yuzo could not contain his excitement or the sweat beading on his skin.
"Hello, Mr. Baba."
A young man in shorts and a T-shirt stood smiling before him. He was Sunny—an aspiring manager and a member of the "inner circle" that always attended to Baba’s various needs whenever he visited Honolulu.
"The car is ready. Please get in right away."
Sunny, who spoke in broken Japanese, was a truly likable fellow.
With skillful handling, the car glided along the state highway towards downtown, maintaining a precise 70 mph speed limit.
"Are you Mr. Yuzo? I know a little about you."
Young Sunny seemed incredibly curious about the unusual sight of a visitor from Japan.
The hotel Baba used as his base camp in Honolulu was the "Hawaiian King," located just a short distance inland from Kalakaua Avenue—the main thoroughfare running along Waikiki Beach—toward the mountains. While not a luxury establishment, it was an ideal hotel that offered everything necessary for professional wrestling training.
"Here we are, Mr. Yuzo. It’s a cozy, relaxing place. Get some good rest today."
Baba led Yuzo to the fifth-floor suite he always reserved for himself—his base of operations in Honolulu—after mentioning how it spanned the length of Waikiki Beach.
"Bwahahaha... Surprised? The room is huge, but pretty stark, isn't it? Even if you look out the window, you won't see a thing that looks like 'Hawaii.' But on the flip side, the phone doesn't ring, and there's no TV. It's set up so you can sleep soundly in that special bed. I don't come to Hawaii for fun. It's strictly about training—nothing else. I have absolutely no interest in sightseeing or the noise of the outside world."
Baba laughed heartily as he said this.
He was truly a world-class wrestler; he drew a clear line between leisure and business.
The table was piled high with a bounty of seafood caught in the waters off Hawaii.
"That fight in Hokkaido really took a lot out of me. Let's take some time today to refresh ourselves and unwind."
Baba was in unusually high spirits. Normally, he would have gone out for beef steak or roast beef, but today—out of respect for Yuzo—he had gone out of his way to bring him to a specialty seafood restaurant.
"Sigh... I'm sorry."
Yuzo found himself swept up in the pace set by the incredibly magnanimous Baba, able to do little more than nod in agreement.
That hellish battle out on the frozen expanse of Lake Chimikeppu in the dead of a Hokkaido winter had been a deeply shocking experience for Yuzo as well. It could truly be said that he had narrowly escaped death. The wound on the back of his head had already healed, but he was still not free from the psychological damage of the incredibly brutal fight.
"Alright, let's not worry about what comes next—let's just chow down and build up our stamina. We've still got four enemies left to face. Starting tomorrow, I'll be your partner and put you through a grueling workout, so be ready for it."
As he said this, Baba stuffed a huge spiny lobster into his mouth. It was fully two sizes larger than the kind found in Japan. Freshly caught and still thrashing, it had been quickly boiled right before their eyes; he dipped the meat into melted butter and devoured it in big bites.
The spicy flavor and the juices of the lobster spread throughout his mouth—a deliciousness beyond words.
The beer he had indulged in—a special treat for the day—gave him a mild buzz, and for a moment, Yuzo felt as though he had forgotten all about the fight.
That was when it happened.
"Well, well—so you’ve turned up in a place like this... I suppose you really do have a nose for the scent of good grub."
A man called out in a loud, boisterous voice.
It was the bearded captain.
It had been some time since he last saw this man—not since the time he helped him to escape from a gang in the south of France.
"Hey, Captain... You look as energetic as ever. Thank you for everything in France."
The captain rambled on to himself, nodding along to Yuzo, who bowed his head.
It seems he’s had quite a bit of rum, as usual.
"So you're the famous Mr. Giant Baba? Wow, this guy is incredible. I've heard his name countless times, but this is the first time I've seen him in person. He's certainly huge. No wonder he's the greatest professional wrestler in the world. Let's shake hands."
The captain's eloquence knew no bounds.
He was a man who—ever since they first met on the ship crossing from Singapore to Africa—would appear like a shadow wherever Yuzo went. While it was true that the Captain had saved Yuzo from danger on several occasions, Yuzo harbored an unshakable sense of unease. Whenever this man appeared, enemies would inevitably come hunting for him. Amidst the thick, clinging heat, Yuzo felt a chill run down his spine. It was not fear of a new enemy; if anything, Yuzo actually welcomed their arrival. Yet, the need to remain vigilant against an unseen foe set his animal instincts tingling.
Seeming to quickly sense Yuzo's feelings, Baba stood up.
"Mr. Captain... We’re starting training tomorrow, so we’ll take our leave now. If you’d like, please come visit us at our lodgings, the Hawaiian King."
Perhaps overwhelmed by Baba's utterly gentlemanly demeanor, even the captain didn't press the matter further.
"Well then, Captain..."
As Yuzo began to speak, the captain leaned closer and quickly whispered in French into his ear.
"Number Seven is dead... killed by the eighth man. That eighth man is coming to Honolulu in a week. You probably know the name—'Oriental Cat,' the pro wrestler; he's quite a big deal. That’s the name Nabel goes by now. It might be none of my business, but you really ought to catch one of his matches at the HIC—(the Honolulu International Center)."
Suppressing the questions that were swirling in his mind like rising clouds—wondering just who this "Captain" really was—Yuzo followed Baba out of Fisherman's Wharf.
The next morning, Yuzo was roused from sleep at five o'clock by Baba calling out, "Wake up, Yuzo."
Clad in training shirts, the two of them set out for run, jogging at an easy pace.
If you walk briskly down Kalakaua Avenue—which runs along the coastline—while gazing up at the majestic Diamond Head bathed in beautiful morning sunlight, you soon arrive at Kapiolani Park.
With its expanse of beautiful green lawns, it serves as an ideal spot for a training camp. In a park elsewhere, walking on the grass would almost certainly be prohibited. However, in Hawaii—the land of friendship—there were no restrictions on access; Baba and Yuzo ran across the carpet of green, savoring the crisp morning air to the fullest.
After a vigorous hour-long run that left them thoroughly drenched in sweat, the two made their way to Waikiki Beach, located just across the street.
Despite the early hour, beach umbrellas were already up and figures could be seen. The sea was undeniably blue.
The seas of Australia, the seas of Africa, and the Mediterranean... Yuzo had gazed upon the sea after defeating an enemy.
And now, Yuzo was clearly aware of his seventh enemy. No, to be precise, he should be called the "eighth enemy." If the information provided by the Captain is accurate, it refers to Nabel—a professional wrestler who is expected to arrive in Honolulu soon.
Last night, he deliberately refrained from telling Baba. It was out of a desire not to drag him any further into this...
As he gazed at the sea, Yuzo felt within his own body the gradual return of the fighting spirit that had been lying dormant.
Whenever the blue waters of the tropics overlapped in his mind with the waters of the northern Sea of Okhotsk, a strange sense of courage would well up inside him.
"What’s on your mind? Come on, let’s head back to the hotel and take a breather. After a light breakfast, you can grab another nap... then this afternoon, I’m going to need you to be my partner for gym training."
Before anyone knew it, Baba was holding a cup of fresh orange juice and smiling broadly. In the shadow of his massive frame, young Sunny—dark-skinned and grinning—was smiling too.
The three of them had returned to the hotel and were having a light meal in the coffee shop when in walked Lord Blears—a matchmaker known in the Honolulu wrestling world as "The Boss."
This man—once a "fair-faced prince" who enjoyed a spectacular career as a top-tier global wrestler, and who had even arrived as the British representative for the inaugural World Big League tournament grandly staged by the late Rikidozan in 1959—spoke quietly as he bent his sturdy upper body, which still bore the physical traces of his wrestling days.
"How is it going... Mr. Baba? Is the training progressing well? I see you're working with a partner I don't often see..."
Glancing briefly at Yuzo, Blears extended his hand toward Baba.
"Thanks to everyone's help... it looks like I'll be able to get in plenty of training. Oh, by the way—this young man is a Japanese martial artist named Yuzo Yamashiro. He holds a professional wrestling license, but he's better known as an expert in Oriental martial arts. I specifically asked him to come along as my training partner this time..."
Before Baba had even finished the introduction, Yuzo stood up and extended his hand.
Although Blears had retired from active competition, the hand he offered—belonging to a man who would still occasionally step into the ring in an emergency, —held the latent power of a true fighter.
"You look like you've got what it takes."
Blears, a wily veteran himself, seemed to have instantly recognized Yuzo's true ability.
It is often said that a wrestler can gauge an opponent's ability simply by shaking hands. True to his status as the boss who ruled the Hawaiian wrestling scene, Blears was sharp enough to pick up on exactly that.
"By the way, Mr. Baba... actually, there is one favor I’d like to ask of you."
Blears broached the subject of having him compete in a major pro-wrestling match at HIC scheduled for four days later.
"No, this time I want to focus strictly on training..."
Cutting off Baba, who sounded reluctant, Blears set about earnestly trying to persuade him.
"The truth is, Sam Steamboat—the current holder of the Hawaiian Heavyweight title—has injured his leg and is in a real bind. It would be a disaster if the main event fell through... You’re the only one who can step in and fill the void, Mr. Baba."
Faced with a plea like that, Baba felt a sense of obligation that made it impossible for him to say no.
Besides, Baba himself was well aware that his Japanese-American fans in Honolulu always eagerly awaited his matches.
"Well, you’ve got me there. All right, just one match, then. Let’s do it. That’s fine, but... who exactly is my opponent?"
Blears grinned as he spoke.
"Rest assured, he is a formidable figure worthy of you. You’ve likely heard the name: Oriental Cat—a master of the dropkick."
Yuzo nearly cried out in surprise.
Comments
Post a Comment
Spam will be deleted immediately