Axton Gunn Vs. Kohaku Fujihara

<sup>I prayed to the gods, you know, I owe you each a jack and coke
        You led me to him but now I’m scared I’m gonna mess it up
        Trying to sound smarter than I am; let this spinning wheel get out of hand

                        And I don’t want to tell you

    You make comets collide in my chest
    And I way overthink how I’m dressed
            Yes I prayed to the gods of the good shit and they led me to you.</sup>




    Axton tossed his wireless headphones down on the hotel bed, followed by his own body, belly-first into the plush duvet. Grabbing the pillow in front of him, he drew it underneath himself and pressed his face into it, letting out a muffled scream that trailed off into more of a miserable wail.


    What are you doing? What the hell are you doing?!


    The young rockstar rolled onto his back with a passionate sigh of frustration, cocking his head all the way back. He glared at the ceiling like it had just insulted his haircut, which he promptly pushed both hands into in an effort to feel grounded… if only for a moment.


    You knew seeing him again was gonna hurt.


    You doubled down again on this stupid idea when you got into that ring because it hurt waaaay worse than you thought it would.


    Didn’t you see how happy he was? He abandoned you for a reason, dumbass. He never needed you to be happy. He found something better. You spilled your guts for this guy like a dumb teen girl in a trashy zombie flick, and look what it got you. You told him everything except the one thing that mattered the most.


    Axton rolled onto his side, sagging into the duvet, tossing the pillow to the ground with a lazy hand. His brow was deeply knit, his throat tight, moisture prickling at the corners of his eyes in a threat of angry tears.


    If you’d told him then, it probably would have scared him away, anyhow. There’s no way to win. This is just what you’re like, heartbreaker. So let’s own it.

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    “You know, I think I've done pretty well for myself.”


    Axton strolls along the pier at Harbor Bridge Walk; the sky is overcast, but the sun is insistent, casting a bright canvas of blue-grey across the waterfront. The young musician wears his trademark black denim jacket and a pair of gold-rimmed Ray Bans, his hands loosely hooked into the belt loops of his jeans. His pace is even, marked by the scuff of his green converse along the ruddy red brick path laid out along the docks. Ships hang in the water nearby, tethered and bobbing gently with the lap of the water and the distant calling of gulls.


    He keeps a steady stride toward the camera, which always stays just a few feet in front of him as the scene around him develops with distance.


    “I’ll admit I’m not perfect. Right? Super hard to believe. I mean, think about it; I’m 26 years old. Since my solo career took off 4 years ago, I’ve come out with three albums. My second album went gold when I was 24. Same year I bought a house, a nice car, a backyard Jacuzzi. A hoverboard, because it’s the future, baby. Statistically I should be on the Forbes 30 under 30 list sometime in the next 3 years, considering I’m not only super handsome and talented but also an entrepreneur, clothing and makeup model, queer rights advocate, viral TikTok creator and the daddy of two beautiful Aussie Shepherds who now have their own 16-month calendar.”


    Axton proffers a cheeky grin, winking over the rim of his shades as he walks.


    “But I’m not perfect. See, I can be kind of a salty bitch when somebody slights me.”


    The Rockstar’s reflection catches in the dark windows of the National Aquarium as he passes it by, showing off the ‘heartbreaker’ patch on the shoulder of his left sleeve.


    “I probably have some cousins in this fuckin’ Aquarium here. We got a lot in common, me and the tropical fishies. We’re flashy, colourful, easily distracted, and literally swimming in salt.”


    He cocks his head, the smile disappearing as he keeps up his pace.


    “Yeah, I’m pissed enough that I’d leave LA to come all the way to this gloomy dumpster fire of a city, just to settle some beef. I hate it when people jerk me around. I hate being left on read. I especially hate being ghosted without explanation, just to see the same person having a great time in Baltimore months later, doing one of my hobbies, without me, with a whole crew of new friends.”


    The corner of his mouth curls into a bit of a snarl; he slows to a stop, craning his head back to look up at the sky. A flash of red and sage ink is visible against his neck, the rose tattoo peeking out of the collar of his t-shirt, which bears a graphic of the eyepatch-sporting character Starwolf.


    “So it turns out you can be all those things--successful, good-looking, charming, fun--and still get ditched by Silvio Leon, somebody you care about, for people you never met.”


    Axton resumes walking with a sigh, nudging his sunglasses down.


    “Kohaku Fujihara… listen up, sweetheart. None of this is really against you. You’re not the one I’m mad at. Honestly? You’re a stand-up dude, from what I’ve seen and read about you. You’re a beast in the ring, really good, super impressive stuff--and you got cute fluffy hair and eyes that could compete with my dogs’ puppy photos. You’re good to your friends and you stick up for them. Who doesn’t like that? For real, you’re the kinda guy I’d love to hang with. So  it’s nothing personal with you. I just happen to know Silvio really well. I know he wants me to settle this with him directly… get to the point, get it over with.


    “But I’m not about that. If I just wanted to gut-punch him and go back to LA, I wouldn’t have bothered signing on with Carnage at all. I could have just left it at our little stand-off after your outstanding victory against those former belt-polishers, Twitter Angst Ryan and her pet Clydesdale, Yeehaw McBane. Ask Silvio, though--really, ask him. Do I ever do anything with subtlety? Am I really the type to make a phone call when I could have air time on TV, and hear the roar of a crowd all around me while the music thrums through the floor and gets my blood pumping?”


    The smirk returns. Axton stops underneath the shadow of a massive boat propeller mounted on a post art the corner of the walk, briefly looking up at it with a grin before addressing the camera again.


    “Hell nah, brah. I’m gonna make a show of it. And I’m going after you first because it’ll piss Leon off. He left me to wonder if he fuckin’ died or if he just suddenly decided I wasn’t worth talking to anymore. Before I’m done here, I want to make him hurt just as much as I did when he left me behind in LA. I want him to understand what he did to me.”


    Axton removes his sunglasses, tucking them into the breast pocket of his jacket by the arm. His smile is once again gone, replaced by a deathly serious stare and a glaze of hurt in his meadowgreen eyes.


    “I’m meeting you and yours on your grounds. We can settle this in the ring like gentlemen. But I hope it makes you wonder, Kohaku. Gotta wonder…”


    He leans in, lowering his voice, almost sickly sweet.


    “How long before he ditches you, too?”

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