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Devil with a Heart of Iron
- Joined
- Apr 5, 2014
150 pound metal weights clanked back onto the bench of the weightlifting station for the fiftieth time that day. Hayate Yakunitatsu sat up, looking directly at himself in the mirror, liking the change that had already occured. He had not been working out long, but he took to it, keeping his schedule consistent enough that the little bit of time he had spent on this had left him with significantly more muscle mass than he had when he started to train for the Nippon Wrestling League, or NWL. He had always loved wrestling, ever since he was a kid, making sure to tune in every night to watch his favorite superstars duke it out in an admittedly scripted bout to determine who was the best in all of Japan. He still watched regularly from his small apartment in Tokyo, something that tended to weird out some of his friends when they came over on Friday nights, but it wasn't that much more odd than those who stayed inside of the arcades all hours of the day, playing fighting games until the moon rose. Hayate himself, however, was planning to do something that those who were into arcade games could never do: he was training to become a professional wrestler himself.
Smiling to himself, he stood from the bench, bench pressing being the last workout for his routine. He had found a nice little routine that had been posted online by an anonymous professional wrestler, and it seemed to be perfect for the high flyer archetype that Hayate was looking for. He knew that his body type likely wouldn't be able to get the muscle mass to lift heavy objects like a 200 to 300 pound man, so he figured fast paced, movement based wrestling would be better suited for him. He walked to the locker room for males and took off his sweat-drenched red tank top, tossing it into his gym bag as well as his black workout shorts. Next came his red sneakers and black, ankle length socks, all of which went into the gym bag as well. Pulling the green towel from the gym bag, he went to the showers to wash the stink off of his skin.
Hayate was half Asian, half American, the only reason he had a Japanese last name being that his mother wanted to avoid bullying in his school because of an American last name. Because of this, a few of his features came from his dad's American heritage, namely his green eyes and brown hair. However, another asset that he had leeched from America was his manhood, which flaccid was a good seven inches in length, and hard, he was ten inches. He also received the high volume of ejaculation that some Asian men had the benefit of receiving, so in all senses of the word, he was the best of best worlds...for an American woman. Japanese women tended to be frightened away from his size, which has lead to a relative lack of sexual contact in his earlier time in Japan. He did, however, find a beneficial relationship with a particular woman: Mika-san, stage name Rainbow Mika.
It was...odd. Mika was one of his idols, as well as her idol, Zangief. Mika was the inspiration that he used for his training, as well as suggesting that a high-flying style wasn't all that bad to strive for. Both of them were faces, or wrestling characters who the crowd was supposed to root for. While that wasn't always the case for a face wrestler, in general they were cheered, while the heels were booed. Hayate...really had no idea what he wanted to be. He figured at first he would be shoved into a role as opposed to picking one out, so he was ready for any sort of character that would be thrown his way.
Finishing the shower, he returned to his locker, dressing in a black t-shirt with 'RED CYCLONE' on the chest in feral red letters. On his legs were a simple pair of dark blue jeans, and on his feet were a pair of white crew length socks as well as a pair of white sneakers. He pulled his wallet and phone out of the gym bag, slipping the wallet into his back pocket but holding the phone in his hand. Opening up his contacts, he tapped on Mika's name, and texted her:
Hi there. Are you free atm?
Smiling to himself, he stood from the bench, bench pressing being the last workout for his routine. He had found a nice little routine that had been posted online by an anonymous professional wrestler, and it seemed to be perfect for the high flyer archetype that Hayate was looking for. He knew that his body type likely wouldn't be able to get the muscle mass to lift heavy objects like a 200 to 300 pound man, so he figured fast paced, movement based wrestling would be better suited for him. He walked to the locker room for males and took off his sweat-drenched red tank top, tossing it into his gym bag as well as his black workout shorts. Next came his red sneakers and black, ankle length socks, all of which went into the gym bag as well. Pulling the green towel from the gym bag, he went to the showers to wash the stink off of his skin.
Hayate was half Asian, half American, the only reason he had a Japanese last name being that his mother wanted to avoid bullying in his school because of an American last name. Because of this, a few of his features came from his dad's American heritage, namely his green eyes and brown hair. However, another asset that he had leeched from America was his manhood, which flaccid was a good seven inches in length, and hard, he was ten inches. He also received the high volume of ejaculation that some Asian men had the benefit of receiving, so in all senses of the word, he was the best of best worlds...for an American woman. Japanese women tended to be frightened away from his size, which has lead to a relative lack of sexual contact in his earlier time in Japan. He did, however, find a beneficial relationship with a particular woman: Mika-san, stage name Rainbow Mika.
It was...odd. Mika was one of his idols, as well as her idol, Zangief. Mika was the inspiration that he used for his training, as well as suggesting that a high-flying style wasn't all that bad to strive for. Both of them were faces, or wrestling characters who the crowd was supposed to root for. While that wasn't always the case for a face wrestler, in general they were cheered, while the heels were booed. Hayate...really had no idea what he wanted to be. He figured at first he would be shoved into a role as opposed to picking one out, so he was ready for any sort of character that would be thrown his way.
Finishing the shower, he returned to his locker, dressing in a black t-shirt with 'RED CYCLONE' on the chest in feral red letters. On his legs were a simple pair of dark blue jeans, and on his feet were a pair of white crew length socks as well as a pair of white sneakers. He pulled his wallet and phone out of the gym bag, slipping the wallet into his back pocket but holding the phone in his hand. Opening up his contacts, he tapped on Mika's name, and texted her:
Hi there. Are you free atm?
"