Author's Note
- This promo takes place at some point between the announcement of Apex + We Are LAW 5 and the beginning of Martial Malpractice/Satsuki v. Mikan.
- Thanks to Rym and Sevv for reading over this at various times and providing feedback!
- If you wrote a character promo recently. And you feel like your character is called out. That is on purpose, but Satsuki's implicit views don't represent my own.
Satsuki Hayano
"Good evening, LAW." Satsuki's voice is even and drawled. It echoes across the stadium as if it were a cave. "Most of you won't know who I am. After all, why would you? I've only fought in a handful of matches, none of which were against those you'd consider your upper echelon." A strange concession for a promo, one that draws a few confused murmurs from the audience.
"Still." She rolls her head to one side, looking off-camera for a moment before shaking her head. "This isn't an introduction. This isn't going to be some grand declaration of my intent or deep dive into my past. No, I'm just here to say one simple thing."
She bows her head.
"Thank you."
And raises it once more. "Thank you to the fans and wrestlers of LAW. Thank you especially to Vanessa Vixen, Nadia Fortune, Uta Toyama, and yes, to Claudia Augustina." The women she's fought to this point in her career. "Because of you, I understand this strange, beautiful new world that I've cast myself into."
She looks off camera again, with a thousand-yard stare of wistful nostalgia. "It's one I've been hoping to find, I think, for my entire life. I've approximated it, sure. Lived in close but imperfect versions of it. So I know the rules of a place like this. But never before LAW -- before I lived and breathed its rarefied air -- have I ever truly understood."
Satsuki shifts comfortably in her chair before leaning against it, her legs now crossed. "So. I'm sure you're all wondering. What exactly do I understand now? About LAW, about life? Well…" She fixes the camera with a slight sidelong smirk, almost letting her head roll fully into the chair's backrest.
"It's that who you are, where you come from, even what you've done? None of it matters. The only thing that governs this world is what you do when you're faced with someone who wants what you have. Whether you can exert your will over them before they do the same to you."
By now, her lips curl into a manic smile, framed by the fingers steepled upon her cheek. A look that fans have only seen once before. "After all, in a world like this, you don't just wager your money or pride. And a victory doesn't earn you simple bragging rights."
Suddenly, those fingers pull away and curl into a white-knuckled ball, fidgeting upon the surface of her palm as they flex and unflex. Satsuki looks at the enclosed fist as if it holds the secret to life itself.
"No…" Her voice drops, and grim laughter bubbles across her lips. Almost cooing at the nothingness in her hand. "You win a spot in the corner of their eye. You win an imagined tap on their shoulder. You win the right to be the itch in the back of their head."
The balled-up fist loosens. One last time, she casts her glossy, dilated gaze off to the distance. On one screen, it appears as if she is looking right at the promotional banner for Apex. As if, all the way from Osaka, she can see it in her mind's eye. "And as I'm sure you all know, that sort of aspirational infamy is just one of many riches I have yet to win in LAW."
"Riches that are held and pursued by countless others." At this, her voice picks up into a labored, gasping growl, interrupted only by shaky breaths and brief licks at her lips. "Countless others…" She grows angry, as if incensed at the very mention. "...Who delusionally act as if they can to take their last names or records or reputations into the ring with them."
Now she points a shaky, reproachful finger at the camera. "Maybe their meager self-assurance comforts them. Maybe the day may never come where I stand above them. But if I go down –" That finger turns into a thumb, pointed back at herself. "– I will go down clear-eyed, thankful for the lesson that LAW has taught me, the lesson that so many seem to have forgotten."
"I promise you, victory does not give a damn whether you've fought for ten years or ten days, whether you come from a family of champions or deadbeats. All that matters is what you are willing to put on the line… And whether you will fight tooth and nail to hold on to it."
"The gospel –" She is roaring now, snarling her beliefs into the open arena air. "– that we write upon the bloodied canvas blesses us with one cardinal rule: History is written by the victors – not in the honeyed words before battle or in the inspirations of years past. But in the moments between victory and defeat!"
Satsuki lets her lids flutter closed, taking a deep, calming breath. And slowly falls back into calm before revealing a newly steeled gaze.
"In those moments, we can't tell you what will happen." She flashes this doubt a soft, welcoming smile. Once more speaking with even cadence. "That, LAW, is what makes them so much fun. We risk it all for the glory that only one of us can have. Wagering and winning and losing until we hold it."
"Take this example that I built, not knowing that it would eventually be for you," she says. Leaning back in the chair, she gestures widely. The standing crowd around her stirs uncomfortably, as if flinching at her very touch. "In my blissfully imperfect corner of the world. The streets and underbelly of Osaka. A preview of the question I came to LAW to answer: What happens when you risk your way to the top?" Her hands swipe out in a smooth gesture, fingers pointed towards the screen.
"The proud bow." Two men step forward, faces still shrouded. Shirtless and toned. They turn to Satsuki, revealing muscular backs adorned with the signature irezumi of the Yakuza. With the telltale sound of steel on steel, they draw katanas from their scabbards and kneel. Heads bowed and blades splayed across their palms.
"The greedy pay tribute." This time, two women dressed in fine, silken gowns step forward with briefcases. Those steel bound boxes click open to reveal rows upon rows of bundled cash. They, too, spin and kneel before Satsuki, presenting the money to her.
"And the envious cede rank." Two people, one man and one woman, are next. They are dressed in suits, blazers pinned at the lapel with the seal of Osaka's local government. Finally, they step forward, turn, and kneel, discarding their pins and tossing them to the ground.
"Not because theirs is mine by right. Not because I built a reputation to precede me. But simply because I made them."
"And over time, my notoriety only grew. At first, they called me Satsuki Hayano, as that's what I was told to let them call me from birth. Then they called me the Queen of Clubs, a pun befitting my status as an ascendant lowborn. Eventually, they called me Daikokunyo, after a female aspect of a Shinto lucky god… and a Buddhist destroyer deity."
Her head rocks from side to side, as if considering these three names. "Now, I am both all of these and none. Truly, I haven't earned the right for you to know me as any of them. Only one thing can do that for me. Luckily," she sighs with a nod, "it's the very thing I came here to fight for."
Finally, she sits up straight. Hands gripping the ends of her armrests. Legs squared before her. Head raised proudly. Eyes fixed unflinchingly upon the viewer. Looking every bit the Queen of Clubs she is and isn't.
"So no. This isn't an introduction. This is a promise. To those I've fought. To those I have yet to fight. To those whose eyes are locked on wins and belts alike, with hardly a glance my way. To those who rightfully don't know my name:"
The screen cuts to black, plunging the entire arena into darkness.
"You will."