A Hero's Homecoming
Fortunately, an escape route had opened up.
After some back-and-forth about Mr. Park, the man who ran the butcher shop, Mom invited his family and their daughter over for dinner. When she called him, Mr. Park heard that Junho was back and went one better, proposing an all-out barbecue party on the spot.
Deciding that sounded perfect, Mom juggled the schedule around until the nearby neighbors had all agreed to come by and see my face. Then she hung up the phone and turned an utterly incredulous look on Dad, who was just strolling in from putting down a pig.
“……You didn’t tell him?”
“Tell him what.”
“That Junho was home.”
“Didn’t come up.”
“Honestly, you.”
Mom let out a long sigh. But well, that was just Dad for you. Where Mom was open and warm, he was taciturn to the bone.
Tough as nails, too.
“Junho. Come with me.”
“Yes, Father.”
Thinking about it now, a man like my father actually seems better built for becoming a pro wrestling superstar than I am.
No, wait—he’d be completely useless on the mic, so maybe not after all?
Still mulling that over, I followed him out to the backyard, took up an axe, and started splitting firewood for the barbecue. A little ways off, my father brought a hand axe down onto a log with a single tap—then simply tore the wood apart with his bare hands.
I was rendered speechless.
“…….”
“Those kids of yours pretty strong?”
“I thought so until just now, but I’m starting to have my doubts.”
“And how strong are you?”
“Me? The strongest there is.”
“Then prove it.”
“……?”
“We’ll see who can split more firewood.”
With that, my father gripped a log in both hands and ripped it apart. A deep crack rang out as the wood split clean along the grain. Standing there dumbfounded, I hoisted my axe. Wham! The firewood split in two. I grabbed a fresh log and set it up on the block beside his.
“Let’s do this.”
This was one contest I had no intention of losing.
To give you the result up front: I lost.
I held the lead through the middle, but once my father caught fire, he blew right past me and finished his pile first without breaking a sweat.
The firewood we produced went straight into the pit with the charcoal, lending itself to a proper Korean-style barbecue. Dad took charge of the grilling, while I stood beside Mom, greeting and welcoming the neighbors who had come out.
The first to arrive were Mr. Park, his wife, and their daughter.
“Well I’ll be~ look how big you’ve gotten!”
“Ah, hello, sir.”
Mr. Park, who ran a butcher shop in town, boasted a frame every bit as massive as my father’s. Then again, surviving after immigrating to America in 1980 demanded real physical strength.
No wonder the gangsters couldn’t lay a finger on him.
“You know, Junho, you’ve got to start eating more. How’d you get this skinny?”
…By their standards, I bet even Sheena would barely count as thin.
Regardless, these were people who had been close with our family since I was little, and I was genuinely glad to see them. Plenty of others came out as well, all just to meet Junho Kim, the son of our parents.
The Korean community clung tightly together in this foreign land, and having been away so long, I felt that bond anew. The Choi family who ran the grocery store, the Cho family who worked office jobs, and countless other families gathered around, welcoming me as though greeting a loved one who’d been away from home for years.
I exchanged greetings with the elders, who worried over me even as they spared no encouragement.
And then, before long, I received the exact opposite reaction from those little brats.
“Bro, you were so awesome!”
“It’s Sin!”
“Sin’s here!”
“Sign this, please!”
“W-whoa, everyone, one at a time…….”
So this was what they called a hero’s homecoming?
More than ten kids were wearing T-shirts with my face on them. A flush of bewilderment washed over me. The ones who had been tiny when I left had no memory of “Junho,” so they looked at me like I was some living god. As if I were a bona fide celebrity. How on earth were they even watching GCW all the way out here?
“Hey, Junho made something of himself!”
“Hoho, the kids talk about nothing but you these days. That, uh, Nut fella? They say the way you fought him was something else.”
“……His name is Russell.”
The hell is a “Nut”?
“Oh, right! Are you friends with Russell?”
“You two shouldn’t fight each other! You gotta punish the Wyatt Family!”
“U-umm…….”
“Bro, isn’t kicking a guy in the face with your knee kinda dangerous?”
“What do you know! If he doesn’t do that, he can’t put Russell down! You don’t know anything!”
“Yeah! Besides, Russell bends people’s legs too! Sin, doesn’t that hurt a lot?”
“Uh, yeah.”
I had the distinct feeling of straddling the line between script and reality, back and forth, over and over.
The little ones took pro wrestling as one hundred percent real and fired off their questions accordingly. The slightly sharper ones, meanwhile, were curious about the world beyond the script.
And that’s the beauty of pro wrestling.
There are countless ways to enjoy it.
But with the two mindsets churned together like this, things got tricky—I couldn’t figure out which rhythm I was supposed to play.
“My, oh my, looks like Junho’s quite popular!”
“The boy who drew a dick on the church icon with a marker because he hated Sunday school is now signing autographs with a marker!”
……I’m sorry, God.
I’ve found my faith since you sent me back, so please don’t forsake me.
“Hey, Junho! Come over here a sec!”
“H-hold on, Mom!”
“I want to be a wrestler like you, Sin. Please write ‘work hard’ for me.”
“Ah, sure thing.”
The kids had brought markers along, and I signed every T-shirt and sheet of colored paper held out to me with a fight on!
And just like that, I naturally found myself doing some talent relations (?) work with my fans.
“You want to become like me?”
“Yes, yes! I want to get strong!”
“And how do you plan on doing that?”
“I practice copying every move you use, Sin!”
“No. You can’t do that.”
Figured as much.
“Huh?”
“Listen up. Wrestling starts from the fundamentals. Try it before your body is fully developed and you’ll fall apart in no time. I never once slacked on my fundamentals when I was your age either.”
“T-then what should I…….”
“Doesn’t your school have a wrestling team or something? That’s where you should start.”
“But Michael and his crew have a total lock on the wrestling team!”
“Yeah! They go around in a pack bullying us and hitting us! Last time I got punched and my glasses broke!”
“Then join the team and beat them fair and square. Break at least one of those punks’ arms while you’re at it.”
“B-break their arms?”
“That’s right. If you’re going to bully people, you’d better be prepared to get what’s coming to you.”
I flashed a wide grin.
Would you call that upholding a heel’s kayfabe……? Either way, after dispensing a few pearls of wisdom to the little tykes, I made my way over to Mom, who was enjoying the party.
“What’s going on?”
“Hoho, nothing at all.”
She looked awfully pleased with herself.
As I tilted my head at her, the other elders gathered around Mom turned to look at me with shining, proud eyes.
“Junho, with popularity like that you must be making good money!”
“You could get married any time now! Want Auntie to introduce you to a nice, honest girl?”
“Junho’s mom raised her boy right~. My kid does nothing but complain the second he opens his mouth—useless, the lot of him—drifting through life without a single goal. But Junho, look at him. Turned out just wonderful~.”
“Give my kids a good scolding sometime! This old man gives you his blessing!”
“……Yes, of course.”
So that’s what this was.
Understanding at last why Mom’s shoulders were puffed up so high, I chuckled to myself. Back by the grill, Dad seemed to be in high spirits too, knocking back beer after beer.
Coming home really was the right call.
Strength welled up inside me, unmistakably.
Suddenly I remembered my father, in my past life, explaining to me what the phrase “returning home in silk clothes” meant.
To come back to your hometown draped in fine silk.
Truthfully, back then I hadn’t understood what that meant at all.
Why go back to your hometown at all?
Wouldn’t it make more sense to work right there, right then, toward buying even finer clothes?
But coming home in silk was never for my own sake—it was what made my parents’ shoulders rise with pride. As any child would, seeing the people who raised me like that made my own heart swell in step with theirs.
And so I resolved that I would succeed even more, and come home again.
And so a week went by.
It was a wonderful vacation. I rested to my heart’s content at home, wandered the area soaking in the scenery—and never once skipped my daily training through all of it.
The time flew by like an arrow, and before I knew it, it was handing me back over to GCW headquarters. My two-week vacation was over.
Since I’d flown in, Baku came out to the airport to meet me.
“Good to be back?”
“Very much so.”
“Punk, you could’ve rested longer.”
“If I had, my body would’ve seized up. I need to shake the rust off before the show in two days.”
“Go easy on yourself, will ya?”
“……I’ll take it easy with Russell.”
Ever since Baku had started trusting me, he’d developed the annoying habit of pushing his full strength to the very end. Thanks to that, his chops landed like he was swinging an iron plate.
Lugging my trunk back to the dorm, I ran into a few of the boys and traded quick greetings. I’d brought back the health bracelets the neighborhood ladies made as a hobby, and handed them out to everyone I met. Most of them were beside themselves over the “mysterious treasures of the Orient.”
Wyatt in particular—apparently he’d watched some Eastern shaman movie while I was away, and his reaction was a sight to behold.
“If I wear this bracelet, my muscles grow even if I drink beer and skip the gym, right?”
“No, that’s not quite it.”
“Maybe I should work an Orient gimmick. Instead of ‘Oh my God,’ I’d shout stuff like ‘Oh my Buddha.’”
“……I’d steer clear of that one.”
“This bracelet is seriously cool, though.”
Not listening to a word.
Well, so long as he likes it.
With that thought, I handed bracelets out to Sheamus, Bobby, and Harley too. Harley, who’d been complaining about his bad back lately, was especially delighted.
“Hoo, this is nice, ain’t it? Love it! You go win that GCW Championship next week!”
“It’s not a bribe.”
“And if you grab this bracelet and give it a good hard squeeze, it turns into Jiap—acupressure, right?”
“Yes. But again, not a bribe.”
I declared it firmly and walked out of the office. Everyone seemed to have gotten along just fine in my absence.
The ratings kept climbing, the attendance kept swelling, and merch revenue grew week after week. Even so, having seen my parents again made me want to work that much harder.
To become a son they can be even prouder of.
With that resolve, I changed my clothes and stepped into the training facility. Two figures stood in the ring.
Sheena and Russell.
Not cutting a single corner, are they.
I smirked and walked over, and the moment Sheena spotted me, she lit up like a flower in bloom.
“Sin!”
“You’re back?”
“Yep. Hey, you two—brought you presents, even.”
“What is this? Bracelets?”
“Yeah. Supposedly they give off some kind of sound frequency that’s good for your health. They say wearing one to bed works wonders.”
“Thanks. I’ll put it to good use.”
Russell nodded and slipped the bracelet onto his wrist. I noted that his expression looked far brighter than the last time I’d seen him.
“How was the show?”
“Not bad. They said the votes tallied nationwide topped fifty thousand.”
“F-fifty thousand?”
“Yep. A good number.”
“…….”
That was a genuinely staggering figure. Even painting it rosier than rosier, I’d figured thirty thousand was the ceiling. My heart was already racing at the thought of what would land in my bank account.
Anyway.
“So what are you two up to right now?”
“Ah, I’m facing Sheena at the show in two days, so we were practicing.”
“Really? What about me?”
“You’re against Eddie the week after. This week, they’re having you come out to back me up when the Wyatt Family interferes…….”
“So I’m working a program with Eddie.”
“That’s right. Anyway—welcome back. Sheena and I have run through some sequences already. Give us your thoughts?”
“Of course.”
At my words, the two of them climbed back into the ring. A handful of exchanges passed between them, and I quickly decided it looked good.
Perhaps because he knew Sheena’s style and skill level so well, Russell had thought through his counters carefully. Even while leading the sequence himself, he hadn’t missed a single opening to let Sheena shine with her power.
“That was excellent—”
Just as I opened my mouth to say so, I felt a vibration in my pocket. I begged a moment’s pardon and fished out my phone (a flip phone, mind you). A call from Mom.
Now what?
“Hi, Mom.”
[D-did you get back okay?]
“Just got here and started training, actually. What’s going on?”
[Can you answer me honestly, son?]
“Of course. What is it?”
[Did you ever, by any chance, tell the kids at the party to break someone’s arms?]
“……?”
[Because that Michael boy broke his arms today. Both of them. And the kids say they were only following your advice—winning a fair and honest fight.]
“Uh, hm.”
[Did you really say that?]
“Well, tell them good job. Karma’s karma.”
I flashed a grin and hung up. Through the receiver I could hear Mom shrieking, “Hey! What kind of talk is that?!”—but I did my best to ignore it.
At the end of the day, that Michael brat was the one who started it all.
The little kids who idolized me had simply gained the confidence to stand up and fight after watching Sin.
In which case, Michael receiving payment for the debts he’d run up was only common sense.
Given everything he’s done, there shouldn’t be any trouble over this.
With that thought, I turned back toward my colleagues standing in the ring.
Now then—time to teach the children of this nation about violence once more.