The mask was never meant to conceal an identity.

When Eiichiro Yamazaki and Ryan Andrews conceived the premise of the monster known as Mushigihara, it borrowed from several unrelated elements; “Mushigihara” was always meant to be the name Yamazaki would take had he moved into professional sumo as he had always planned, and so his face would have been a public knowledge, if not his birth name. The mask was developed with an insect theme, borrowing from the Japanese word “mushi,” or “insect.” Everything about it, from the intimidating design that resembled a traditional “kabuto” helmet popular with feudal samurai, to the mesh covering all discernible features of the wearer’s face, was designed not for concealing an identity, but for sheltering the mind of its wearer with the world outside of it.

As Mushigihara dogged on with three-hundred fifty pounds of barbell and weights on his shoulders, pushing his legs to hoist himself upward, the monster reflected on the multitude of errors that lead him to this moment, in the annals of the DEF Wrestle-Plex, preparing for a show with the trainees of BRAZEN.

BRAZEN.

When the option of working in BRAZEN for a while was presented to the previously-detained God-Beast, Ryan went on a litany of reassurance and positivity… for someone who envisioned himself as some kind of Machiavellian mastermind, the man known to DEFIAfans as Eddie Dante was a font of positive reinforcement comparable to some of the motivational speakers Eiichiro had heard about since landing in America. He chuckled; Dante could be roasting in the fires of Hell itself, but he’d be talking about how nice it was because he got a view of Heaven from where he was being burned. It was helpful for getting through hard times like this, but it didn’t help a terrible lot in making one a convincing villain.

“Osu…”

As Yamazaki stood erect and racked the barbell behind him, the thought crossed his mind that maybe, just maybe, the invisible hand that moves everything, whether it’s called God, Buddha, Destiny, or whatever else, had plans for him and his mentor that went beyond garden-variety villainy.

“Heheheheh… OSU!”

When he first loaded one hundred ninety pounds on the barbell, he was angry. Angry at Angus Skaaland for suggesting something he felt was beneath him. Angry at Kelly Evans for her condescending tone. Angry at Bronson Box for successfully needling him into hostility. Angry at the incompetent buffoons in the US Customs office for dragging their feet with his work visa renewal. Angry at himself because, for all of this misfortune, he knew that other possibilities would have been available had he performed to the standards expected of him.

As the weights climbed up, that anger was still there, but was reinforced with ambition. Ambition to show Angus Skaaland that he was more than just a “Fatboy.” To show Kelly Evans that she could place DEFIANCE Wrestling squarely on his shoulders. To show Bronson Box just what kind of monster he really can be. And maybe to get proper citizenship, just so he can shove a United States passport into that agent’s face before giving him the bird. And lastly, to show himself and the world just what the son of an Ibaraki plum farmer can do.

“Eiichiro…”

Dante. He had taken it upon himself to help with the development of the BRAZEN trainees’ skills; Mushigihara knew that Eddie had a teaching degree, and that he was always looking for an excuse to use it.

“Mushi… they’ve got a BRAZEN show booked in some casino near Lafayette, Evangeline Downs, I think? Now’s a good time to try out some of those moves we worked on earlier today. I don’t know who you’ll face yet, though.”

“Osu?”

“I’ll try to find out, but no promises, of course.”

“Osu.”

“I got one of these kids who is keen on facing you, seems to think highly of you. I’ll keep you posted.”

“Osu.”

With a nod, Mushi sent Dante on his way, and then started walking over to get himself a post-workout drink. Who knows?

Maybe this demotion was a blessing in disguise...

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