Another Perfect Day

Jubei Tashiro closed the Manga and sighed.

“That’s enough edge for today.” He said, then mused: “Those gauntlets were cool-sounding, though.” He smiled to himself. Monster Gauntlets. Chrome and shaped like a lion’s head, I could do with a pair.

Leaving the toilet stall with a flush, Tashiro washed his hands while giving himself a quick check in the mirror. The left side of his jaw still showed signs of swelling and slight bruising.

Shaking his head, he blamed himself for speed-running the last two fights in the space of a couple of weeks. The money was good too, enough to risk serious injury.

At 30, Tashiro was still in demand and had been shrewd enough to manage his finances, rather than leaving them in the hands of a questionable (sketchy) manager.

The fight money did not go toward luxuries (he still drove his uncle’s '76 Toyota Liftback) nor did it go to partners who couldn't hold a conversation and faked an interest in his profession so they could siphon the riches. He one hundred per cent did not trust investments or some SnakeOilcoin that was in no way a Ponzi scheme or glorified Casino.

It all went toward Medical School.

Hell, any school would have been too good for his family, a bunch of mountain bumpkins who despite living on ill-gotten gains, still couldn’t make enough to leave their dual trailers in the countryside.

It was coming to the point where he saw no life outside of the abyss; no hope and no future.

Then Marble arrived, his daughter.

Marble was another unfortunate baby born into his bloodline, but something about her birth sparked something in Tashiro.

Suddenly, he no longer felt like a passenger in his own life, or content with being a Zombie and going through the motions because of some kind of inherent nihilism, he felt…compelled.

Like invisible hands shoving him out of a stupor, he forced himself to work part-time at the sawmill and construction, putting away money while the one good cousin took care of the baby, as the Mother was too deep in a narcotic fog to participate.

On weekends, he would help at the local Hospice as a Carer, where he took care of an elderly priestess who taught him about thinking critically and how to use nature in Homoeopathic medicines.

“The universe,” She said. “Always finds a place for those who are needed.”

Tashiro shook his head and folded her clothes.,

“Where does that leave victims of murder or abuse?” He said, quietly. “What did they do to deserve that? What did I do to deserve it?”

The woman simply smiled. “I didn't say it was a fair universe.”

Raising a kid around criminals and drunks was always going to be difficult, but Tashiro did his best. After work we would spend an hour at the gym or Dojo learning Judo, his body became jacked and found work as a Bouncer.

Five years later, Marble grew up to be a joyful and bright young child, her wide smile would always touch blue eyes, which saw beyond the wasteland of her surroundings.

Tashiro wanted to keep that smile bright, those eyes hopeful, to live in her world where she only saw fun and laughter. The way she talked of fairies and dinosaurs, what she wanted to be, pointing to the stars every night and asking which one was Mommy, (whose lifestyle had eventually caught up with her). He did his best to make sure the world Marble grew up in would not be her downfall.

Turns out, that downfall…would be himself.

A freak tide caught them on the beach and carried Marble away. After swimming desperately, Tashiro caught her hand just in time, but the damage was done; she had taken in too much water.

Lying on the beach, he tried to revive his daughter as best he could, but he could only cry and scream over her still body.

His hands grew numb that day and cold as iron.

Everyone noticed it, even after the funeral, when the old Priestess held his hand, she felt ice.

“She was your heart and now she’s gone.”

“I guess that means I’m dead inside,” Tashiro said and looked away.

It would have been easier to blame a drunk driver or even the negligent Mother, but he couldn’t, for it was he alone who was responsible, and the weight alone was his to carry.

One night, he was at a bar in another town, stewing in his drinks and minding his own business, when a gang of rich kids started to mouth off and harass the locals.

The big shot, some nepo baby, drunk off his ass, began to verbal abuse Tashiro, who remained stoic and unmoving. Feeling protected by money and status, the kid felt brave and shoved the stranger’s shoulder.

Tashiro didn’t look; he simply yanked the kid’s tie downward until the smug face connected with the counter. Lights out. The rich kid fell back in a heap.

The kid's colleagues looked on, stunned at first, until they dragged him away, all the while yelling and pointing, as they backed toward the exit.

Later that night, while he was making his way home, Tashiro was surrounded by a group of bikers, obviously hired by the kid’s father. Needless to say, he beat the shit out of them too.

Handing out naps to those who got in his face.

First, the ringleader with the mouth, followed by the second-in-command, and three others, until the remaining crew dragged the unconscious away and allowed him to walk off.

One of the onlookers from the bar was a veteran trainer, pushing sixty but still youthful enough to top up his cardio. He had been impressed with Tashiro’s quick work and approached him about life in the ring.

“Had I known CPR…” Tashiro said. “Had I known…”

Staring at the bathroom mirror. He wiped a tear with the side of his hand and exited into the main part of the Hawaiian Restaurant.

Cry later, I’ve got work to do.

Checking the time, he sat down at one of the booths and ordered a coffee and a Pizza. Soon, he was joined by his boxing Manager ‘Goldchain’ Hasegawa.

“Shishi!” Goldchain said, eyes smiling under oversized shades. “How’s it been?”

“Okay, until you started calling me ‘Shishi. ’”

It was Tashiro’s fighting name; one he had never been particularly fond of. It sounded like something he’d name a cat.

“Well the crowd love it,” Goldchain said. “ And crowd love you. Twenty one K.O’s, five losses, nine draws. Those stats would make anyone proud.”

“I’m not in it for the fame.”

“What's next?” Hasegawa said. “’I’m not here to make friends.”

They both laughed at the lone wolf cliché.

It was then the Manager took off his glasses. Not a good sign. It usually meant he was about to part with some bad news. Hasegawa may have had his flaws, but at least he was straight as a razor and always kept it legit.

“What’s up?” Tashiro asked.

The flashy man was almost too quiet. “We gotta let you go.”

Tashiro held his breath for a few seconds and exhaled. 

He was expecting this. 30 was by no means too old to be in amateur boxing, but this stable relied on new blood, meaner, fitter, younger, up-and-coming stars. Tashiro was practically an Uncle compared to these pups. He knew it was always on the cards, but it still stung.

“I see.”

“That’s all you can say? You’re not gonna get mad, rant about we’re missing out on big paydays?”

Tashiro sighed.

“I don’t need you,” He said, in his best monotone. “I don’t need this agency, I’m gonna make it on my own. You’ll see, you’ll all see!”

Goldchain sat back and smirked. “Really rolling out the classics, huh?”

“Would it be easier for you if I flounced out like a supervillain?”

“You can flounce?”

“I flounce good, I flounce well .” Tashiro said, with a chuckle. Goldchain smiled and nodded.”So do I at least get an explanation for being banished?”

“We…got an offer too good to pass up. And yes, I said that without quoting The Godfather, so don’t even try.”

It was Tashiro’s turn to smile.. “You know me too well.”

“I know how your mind works.”

“This offer. Is it a secret or soon to be announced?”

“It’s already announced; if you had social media, you would have seen it instantly.”

“I can’t deal with the social media. It gets in the way of doing stuff.”
“This was another reason we had to let you go. Your fanbase was clamouring for you to join SOMA (social media), so they could connect with you.”

Tashiro finished his Pizza.

“What am I supposed to do?” He said. “Talk to each and every one of them?”

“That’s the beauty of it, they feel seen by you, just by being on your account.“

“But they are living in a hologram of their own making; it’s all an illusion.”

“Which they are comfortable with.”

“Wait, you said another reason. What was the main one?”

“Have you heard of Klonik-eight-eight-nine-Jumpin-jump-bunny-bunny-ee-ex-ninety?”

Tashiro blinked. Once.

“Did you have a stroke?”

“That’s the name of Soto. C. Sato. A famous reality star and influencer.”

“Isn’t that what rich folk call themselves to sound useful? See also: Party planner, Life Style guru, Hedge fund manager.”

“Yeah well, this guy has decided he wants to play Boxer, and everyone is going along with it.”

“So like a Make-a-wish thing for adults?”

“Pretty much, his Dad’s the CEO of a charity.”

“If a charity has a CEO, it’s not a charity.”

“C’mon, don’t start.”

“So that’s it?”

“That’s all she wrote. Sorry, this guy comes to us with a built-in fan base. We’re gonna be swamped.”

“And me being around is making everyone look bad?”

“No one said that!” Goldchain said, genuinely upset. “I know you think this is you being banished from the heroes' party, but get it into your head…we love you at the agency, the younger fighters love you, you’re like an Uncle to them.”

I knew it.

“And if this guy gets bored and leaves?”

Goldchain looked out the window.

“We got some fresh blood coming up through the ranks, I’m sorry there’s no room. I can get you connected with another agency. Who knows, one day you’ll be fighting our guys. Either that or take up Golf.”

“Nah, I prefer to be an Athlete,” Tashiro said, Goldchain shot him a look. “What? You walk around a park while someone else carries your stuff. How is that a sport?” Tashiro downed the last of his Coffee and stood up. “I got one last bout tonight, might as well show ‘em what I got.”

“Make it a good one.”

“No hard feelings, chief,” The Boxer said, offering a hand.

Goldchain stood up, wiped a hand on his thigh and shook it.

“Take care of yourself, big man..”

“Send me the paperwork,” Tashiro said, heading for the exit. “I’ve always wanted to say that.”

***

Sliding into his car, he quickly checked the account from the last receipt, after requesting it from the bank. (he didn’t trust online).

The number was sufficient to enable him to attend public universities for the next five years. He had switched his interest to becoming a fully licensed Paramedic, which would give him a healthy amount of medical training.

He smiled and sank back. Marble would have been ten this year, no doubt full of back-talk and sass, with them exchanging witty comebacks. He adjusted the rear-view mirror, imagining her in the back seat, with a Jean jacket full of badges, talking about some new kind of collector-mania that had just come out.

“Right..right..one more thing to do.” He said quietly.

Tashiro arrived at the cemetery as the sun was setting.

The polished grey stone was of the highest quality, since he had insisted on only the best site and headstone for his daughter.

Away from the store-bought, criminal enterprise that passed for a family, he wanted Marble to be in a place that wild dogs couldn't dig up.

Placing three cherry Blossoms in a home-made shallow dish of clay, Tashiro pressed his hands together in prayer.

“I know you are tired of hearing this,” He said, placing his head on the ground. ”But I am so sorry I failed you. I am sorry this world took you away too soon, before you had a chance to embrace it, to make it your own.” Tears streaked down. “D-Daddy loves you, never forget this. Be nice to your Mom, she made mistakes but…she loved you in her own way. Grace shines upon you, my dear sweet child.” He looked at the plastic daisy ring on his pinkie finger and smiled. “Gotta go, Daddy has to fight.”