Fuse carefully sliced the fish into a long strip and laid it across the rice, cucumber, and seaweed. The soft sounds of the sushi restaurant hummed in the background, while the tranquil Japanese music filled the air around it.

With a concentrated look, he rolled the ingredients together into a long tube within the bamboo sheet. Pulling the bamboo back, Fuse then took his knife and cleanly cut the individual pieces of sushi.

He had become quite talented as an itamae. His mother and father would be impressed considering he left Japan without any culinary abilities to speak of.

The door to the sushi restaurant opened, and Fuse looked up to see the young Canadian businessman, Parker Meloche, enter.

Parker scanned the restaurant and smiled when he caught sight of Fuse. Fuse obliged with a smile of his own and waved for Parker to come to him. As Parker sat down, Fuse took the lead.

“Mr. Meloche,” Fuse acknowledged. “So good to see you.”

“Ah, Fuse, and it’s always a pleasure to see you too,” replied Parker as he took a seat at the sushi bar. “I hope you are well?”

“Very well, Mr. Meloche.”

The Golden Pro Wrestling commissioner relaxed and looked at the Pure Gold Champion.

“I just wanted to check in with you ahead of Fort Knocks and see how you’re feeling,” Parker began.

“How am I feeling?” asked Fuse while plating the last bit of sushi he created. “Well, I do not understand this ‘Fort Knocks’ and I have many questions.”

“I can understand. I haven’t exactly shared much about how the match will actually be conducted, except that it will be a six-person competition inside a closed golden cage.”

Fuse nodded while Parker continued.

“And I’m afraid there’s not much I can tell you… but as the Pure Gold Champion, I can give you one favor.”

“What is it, Mr. Meloche?” Fuse asked in response.

“Unlike all of your previous matches, you’ll have a chance to use a weapon. What tool would you like to use? A chair, perhaps?”

The GPW Pure Gold Champion got a confused face, which prompted Parker to continue.

“Seriously, Fuse. And as a sign of respect, is there any weapon you would prefer to have?”

After several moments, Fuse’s face went calm, and he answered.

“A bo.”

“That’s it?” Parker replied.

“Yes, Mr. Meloche. If I must use a weapon, I prefer a bo.”

The young Canadian businessman smiled and nodded before getting up off the seat.

“A bo, it is. Good day to you, Fuse, and keep up the great work. We’re all very proud of you.”

Fuse nodded and Parker Meloche excused himself back to the door of the restaurant.

A bo Fuse thought to himself.

Fuse had never used one in a wrestling match, but now he would have his chance at Fort Knocks.