Where Have All The Good Men Gone

I’m so damn tired… A pounding, echoing through my head accompanied a nauseous feeling making its way up from my stomach. My blurry vision tried to make sense of the figures in black shaking and chanting around me. Their shouts were muffled out by my headache, but every now and again I recognised one word repeated, Kazuya–

‘Kazuya!’ A voice called through the muffled haze. I turned around, searching for the owner of the voice in the black crowd. I shook my head and it all blurred back into existence.

I was sitting on the cold cement ground. Trying to stand up again, as I looked around, scanning the crowd, I stumbled backward and was caught by a few arms from the black crowd. Oh, I remember…

– 18th of April, 1986 –

‘Kazuya!’ Takashi shouted as I saw him pushing through the crowd before standing above me. He froze for a moment, his chestnut eyes growing wide as he stared at me. ‘Holy shit…’ He gulped. ‘You’re nose…’

‘Takashi? What the hell is going on?’ I asked him, slurring my words as I was beginning to fall out of consciousness again. ‘What’s wrong with my nose?’

‘Nothing! Nothing! Don’t worry about it’ was the half-hearted reply.

Takashi looked up, away from me, and wiped the sweat off his forehead. He must have readied himself mentally for a moment later he returned his gaze to me, and said. ‘He’s nearly done! Just get back in there–’

I attempted to reach for my nose, but Takashi grabbed my hand. ‘I wanna know what’s wrong with my nose–!’ I shouted but cut myself short when I reaffirmed my blood covered hand. A warm feeling began to make its way up through my arm… Pain.

‘Why the hell am I bleeding?’

‘That’s not important right now. Get off the ground, walk over there and kick his ass!’ He shouted as he lifted me back up again, and pushed me back into the small open area that the crowd encircled.

There a tall guy, with a square jaw stood. His face didn’t look to be as badly beaten as mine - as badly beaten as it felt - yet, he had still taken a few hits.

‘Do I know you?’ I asked stupidly. I seem to remember his name was Naka-something. I really wasn’t that good with names, with or without a headache.

One thing was for sure: he wasn’t smiling. It did not look like he was enjoying this fight at all, actually. I couldn’t even begin to guess what I might have done to piss him off this much.

‘Shut the fuck up, Kabane-san’ He replied, with much aggression.

‘Look, honestly… My head is hurting. Can we call this a draw–’

‘I told you to shut up!’ He said as he rushed at me, hands raised, curled into fists. I might have been able to react in time to block it if not for the massive headache. But in any case, I did not block it. Instead I took it straight to the face, the heat dispersing through my skull as I was tipped out of balance once again, falling onto the ground.

My head knocked against the cement, and a new source of heat spread from the contact point.

I lay there on the ground surrounded by the crowd who had now gone silent. I suppose they were all holding their breaths, thinking that I was dead or something. That might have been a first for everyone. Well, except for me.

To not keep the crowd in suspense anymore I lifted my body into a seated position, and smiled. Whether it was a fake smile or not was hard to tell anymore. That was the thing about fights. You enjoyed them, but you could only enjoy having your ass kicked so many times.

‘Nice fight, Nakamura-san’ I laughed, reaching my hand out to him, expecting him to pull me up.

He frowned at me, looking at the hand. He opened his mouth, as if beginning to say something and then–

He spat in my face. ‘Next time, bring that fucker Eiji, Kabane-san’ He gnarled, before turning around making his way out of the crowd.