The crisp night air flows gently along the luxury car in which I am seated. Bright lights and untold stories unfold outside of the windows, songs about ghosts and unclaimed riches resonate through the city streets of Tokyo. The driver is but a dark shadow in the front as I rest my head against the back window, his features and story not at all relevant to my current line of training. Lights and sounds cast a sickening glow into the automobile, thousands of voices each part of a massive collective, gyroscopic swirl.

Why am I here?

The question lingers in my mind, my old stomping grounds surrounding me and muck lingering underfoot. I can see Jason O'Neil's face, his twisted, distorted features, a man of undoubtedly great skill, looking to build his reputation off my massive shoulders. And why shouldn't he? I did, after all, drop the ball. I did, after all, fall with a deafening thud on the world's biggest stage. Jason O'Neil can very well take my place, defeat me with a cold hand across my midsection, and stake claim to my entitled hold on what I once considered my birthright -- the pursuit of excellence.

So, again, what am I doing here?

'Temptation,' Master Musashi told me, 'is the mainframe on which your old life was built. Your downfall gave way only to your lack of impulse control, your mind a slowly poisoned, devoid of all original thought and given way to a massive desire for self satisfaction.'

'My life has been nothing but,' I reply, shadows creeping in the dojo, lit only by sparse lanterns situated throughout. 'My soul was traded long ago, a bargain for which I saw the fruits on a daily basis. However, such satisfaction became trite. In the end, I suppose, it became my undoing.'

The Master's face, illuminated in the light, casts an orange glow. His neutral features -- once handsome -- are now reduced by the strains of time. He casts the familiar glance my way, the icy cold stare that could freeze even the most experienced and renowned of warriors. He shakes his head.

'My training will be quite beneficially, Tsuyoshi,' he speaks quietly. 'You will learn nothing inside of this classroom. Our training will be in the world in which you have created. You must attack each demon by the mouth, addressing each of such demons by using your willpower, a weapon that is, as of now, as dull as stone, but may, with use, become your most valuable arm. To that end, you are to face the demon that impeded much of your growth, a monster great and tall, defeated only by your growing sense of self-determination.'

Temptation

The Master did not have to utter those words. In my mind, and heart of hearts, I knew just what he discussed -- the demon so great that it nearly caused me to lose it all. Of course, it came in all forms -- large breasted, bubbly, powdered, and, of course, through rage -- an unbridled emotion devoid completely of reason and based entirely on pure emotion, an opiate to which logic is the antithesis.

'South Street,' the Master spoke, his voice raising only slightly. 'For one hour.'

The words hit me like a great drum -- South Street -- the seediest part of downtown Tokyo. No other explanation was needed, for I knew just what the great man required of me. South Street had long become a part of me, its warm embrace hugging deep within me, and in this moment, I knew only one thing...

This would not be easy.

'Sir?'

I stir slightly, nearly hitting my head on the glass window on which my face has left a smudge. I take a look, to see the driver confirming our destination as my mind flashes to the present. The car has stopped. We have arrived. Night looms over South Street, descending like a vail, creating the ideal ambiance for this sinful, wicked ave.

I slowly exit the car, and immediately, the air becomes thick with the stench of debauchery. The air becomes fluid, and within moments, a sense of nostalgia washes over me. The juice joints, the small markets, and the bars crowd the strip. Bright lights and rap music, blasting from car stereos, blur my vision and impede my train of thought. The smell of tobacco smoke and cheap booze permeates my senses. The streets are dark, sinister, as if possessing a life of their own. I can feel chilled fingers of dread working slowly up and down my spine, and at once, I realize one thing.

I cannot do this.

I try to walk back, but in front of me, in a darkened street corner, stands a tall, almost skeletal woman, wearing a dark blue top and short shorts. Her features are delicate, innocent, yet I know better. Deep within her, underneath the mask she wears, is the soul of a depraved child, one of lust and hunger -- much like mine was. Reeking of cheap perfume, she flashes me a smile, her crooked brown teeth an immediate indicator of her economic status.

'Hey,' she says shyly, almost blushing. 'What's a handsome guy like you doing here?'

'I--' I stammer, 'I am just...just...'

'Let me take care of you,' she says, her beautiful Japanese eyes flashing. 'I can just...'

She begins to rub my shoulders, slowly and sensually, up and down. Her lips touch my neck slightly, and I can feel her tongue. I fall into a trance, and the old Tsuyoshi Tanaka slowly seeps back into my body. Master Musashi's teachings quickly exit my mindspace, replaced only by my most primal manhood. She rubs my arms and my mind begins to wander.

Suddenly, I grab hold of her, throwing her into the wall. I begin to rip all of her clothes off, starting with her thin shirt. It rips with my massive grab, and I throw it carelessly to the ground. She begins to scream, but I clap one hand onto her mouth, reaching down her pants with the other. She tries to bite my hand as I do so. As she bites down upon my hand, I feel myself becoming strangely erect. She tries to get away, but I slap her across the face, tackling her to the ground, and--

'Hey!' I snap, coming back to reality, my mind once again focusing on the task at hand, blocking out such fantasies. 'I want no part of this. You...you...'

But I do want a part of it. I want very badly to rip into her, her flesh on mine as I feel myself sliding deeper into her. I whirl around, almost at a run, as fast as I can while she swears at me. Further and further away I go, tempted many times to turn. Past the Old Platinum Bank, I whirl around, walk back several steps, then turn back once more down East South Street.

No.

I must focus.

I must overcome.

Damn, I need a drink.

I walk quickly down the disheveled streets, regulars eying me. The familiar green and white lettering greets me on my left, a sign that, at one time, created in me a sense of belonging and completing. The linkage between that sign and self satisfaction was great, and it can be again.

The Green Dragon Tavern.

The sign's bulbs are out half the time, and the atmosphere is always dark and cavernous, but today, on this very occasion, as I journey these roads one month sober, this place is as warm and inviting as Heaven itself. As I come closer, the unintelligible lyrics and uncontrolled notes of Japanese heavy metal impale my senses. Yet it matters not, as I approach the tavern, I feel as if being slowly summoned towards the entrance, a force deep inside of me attracting me like a magnet.

I enter, the tavern buzzing with life. The florescent beer signs and hanging lanterns are the only source of light, save for the shine of the city lights coursing in through the windows. A dank and dark watering hole, the Green Dragon Tavern serves its purpose -- liquor you up, chase away the blues, leave you hungover -- rinse and repeat. I slowly pull up a stool to the bar, a delicious ale the only thing on my mind.

'Can I help ye--Oh my good God, it's Tanaka,' the bartender stammers, a man of average height, meaty build, and a shaved head. 'Kazou! Get over here! Look who it is!'

'Nice to see you, Hybusa,' I reply dryly as Kazou, one of the regulars, approaches. Upon seeing me, his face drops. He begins to chuckle, grabbing the stool next to me. I can immediately recognize the stench of hard liquor and cheap sex on him, clenching to Kazou like a second skin.

'Well, ho-lee shit, look who it is!' Kaz slurs, his yellowing skin shimmering underneath the lamp. 'Where ye been, Yoshi? We thought you'd never show your face around here again after what happened...well...you know.'

'Yes, I know,' I reply, as Hybusa slides a cold ale in front of me. 'But here I am. I guess life has this cruel way of working out, an endless display of random events that, in the long run, end up coinciding and overlapping in a circular motion. So, here I am, back to where I...belong.'

A tall, leggy, blonde American girl approaches, taking a place on Kazou's lap. He puts his arm around her as she nuzzles against him, lighting up a cigarette.

'Well, who is this, now?' she asks in a husky voice, belching smoke as she does so. 'Haven't I seen ya some place?'

'This guy,' Kazou laughs, not out of humor but out of pure drunkenness, 'is Tsuyoshi Tanaka! This guy had it MADE! He had a shot at the big time, and he BLEW it!'

The statement hit me like a dozen sharpened knives into my gut. I quickly whirled away from Kazou and to my cold ale. The bubbles and foam still settle in the glass. I can just imagine the sweet taste hitting my dry tongue, millions of taste buds bursting to life. I can almost feel the warmth as my alcohol hits my stomach, extinguishing one million fires -- if only for a short while.

'And so then he--' I hear Kazou cackle, but I ignore him, concentrating only on the glass. I grip the handle, lifting the glass. The cold seeps into my hand, and the delicious malt beverage is inches from my mouth when I set it down, pushing it back towards Hybusa, who looks puzzled.

'I...can't,' I sigh. 'No. No, I can't...I won't!'

'Oh, what is this?' Kazou asks, focusing his attention away from his floozy and to me. 'Now you can't even drink a beer like a man? My God, what did Sage do to you?'

I stare intently on Kazou, his smiling, drunken features stirring within me great feelings of rage. I can feel the fire begin to build, his laughter and words like gasoline. The look in his eyes determines, in one split second, my decision. I push my hands out to shove him, to wipe the smirk off his face.

I thrust my hands outwards, and he falls off his stool, immediately shelving the mocking grin. His girl and his ale come crashing to the ground with him, the glass shattering on the floor. I take the stool from the floor, smashing it immediately on his face, which disappears in a smattering of blood and tears. His girl takes off running. Hybusa and the patrons of the bar grab me, and I feel their rage as I am about to be given retribution for my actions, a strange karma for my own doings...

But I perish that thought from my mind, rebounding back again to reality. When my hands are only inches from Kazou's chest, I withdraw. Kazou begins to laugh, his crooked teeth bared and his eyes rolled into his head. His massive, hairy gut hangs from his now untucked orange dress shirt, and he looks at me with a sense of mock respect, waving his hands and bowing.

'Well, look now, it's the new Yoshi Tanaka! I applaud you, sir! Honor and respect! I-I-I...' but Kazou can't finish, bursting into fits of laughter, his cheap date joining him. I look him square in his eyes, and words flow from me with a great sense of calm like water.

'You are the weak one, Kazou, for I have found the error of my ways. You have become a slave to the ways of convention, and your impulses rule your life like a dictator, commanding each and every decision you make. You are indeed an empty shell of a man, to be pitied, not scorned. I will not attack you this day for your remarks, Kazou Takahashi, because the most suitable punishment I can muster is to allow you to continue to be, as is, in this state. Your own life shall unravel and time will be your executioner.'

With that, I walk from Kazou, from the swarms of patrons booing and calling me a coward, and from my old life. Outside, I feel the warmth of air flowing, the smells of automobile exhaust and hashish smoke wafting about. I begin to walk aimlessly once more. South Street is abuzz with activity, even now at such a late hour. I pass the chicken stand, the adult movie expo (Tanni Yamato stars in 'The Three Splooges' -- Now in Stock!!), and an old abandoned grocery before hearing words in a mohogany voice.

'You have done well.'

I turn to see my Master in front of me, Sato Musashi, his form greatly eclipsing the dark streets around me. He is a fish out of water, dressed in his robes, hunched over his cane. Police sirens whistle in the distance, and I almost laugh at the circumstances in which this class is being conducted. A car backfires across the street, causing me to instinctively jump. A small grin crosses Musashi's face.

'Your temptation was great tonight, Tsuyoshi, and yet at each turn, you were able to keep your head level and make the right decisions. You overcame lust, gluttony, and rage tonight -- three of the most prominent forms of temptation.'

'But...how did you--'

'I followed your steps,' Musashi replies, 'You have completed your first lesson.'

'But it was so difficult,' I stammer. 'I wanted so badly to give in to temptation. I wanted so badly to drink that ale, and with that woman, I--'

'But did you?'

'No,' I reply. 'I did not. I thought about it, though. I wanted so badly to join the flesh of that beautiful woman, to soil her, to--'

'You have demonstrated the ability to foresee the consequences of actions,' Musashi tells me, his voice low. 'You were tempted, and the flesh is only so strong, but in time, you will be able to overcome each obstacle with the greatest of ease. For now, however, it is time for us to leave this place. Say goodbye, Tsuyoshi Tanaka, to South Street, for you will never again return.'

-----

That night, as I lie in bed, a strange calm overcomes me. I replay the events of the day in my mind, an endless loop in my mind, pausing and slowing down the parts on which I wanted to focus. I can almost taste the ale, still. My need for it is still great, and my throat burns in thirst. My need for the flesh also burns, and I suddenly feel a great wave of loneliness spread through me, like a cold needle against the skin.

The shadows grow great and small against the darkened wall, lit on the backdrop of the moon. I realize that there is a whole world of life out there, waiting to be discovered. In each facet of nature, I realize, a life force exists, so beautiful that it could only be observed by one in the purest state of mind. The shadows from the window continue to wave in the wind, almost as if greeting me. My eyes grow heavy with sleep, and my last thoughts are only of the beauty of the world, much of which I will soon discover.

Exhausted, I am silently overtaken by sleep.

[Fin]