The phone rang in the busy South Memphis Sushi restaurant. Servers busily checked on their tables, pouring sake and carrying large platters of various rolls. The lights were low, and peaceful ambient Japanese music played in the background.

On the “sushi line,” Fuse Makoto carefully rolled the seaweed forward, wrapping it around the combination of rice, fish and vegetables. In the months since he had arrived to Tennessee from his homeland of Japan, Fuse had progressed from dishwasher to “Shokunin.”

If professional wrestling didn’t work out, at least he had developed a backup skill, he figured.

The phone continued to ring while the murmurs and clangs of the establishment hummed in the background.

A focused man like him could easily fend off both environmental and worldly distractions.

He tried not to dwell on the inconsistency of his adventure to America. The businessman, Parker Meloche, had promised an opportunity to wrestle professionally in America. An opportunity to protect his family’s honor while also satiating his desire to explore his destiny.

Unfortunately, it hadn’t quite worked out yet. The first season of Golden Pro Wrestling only allotted him two matches. One was defeat at the hands of Dr. Dean, and the other he found success against the monster Abel Unstable.

Fuse carefully sliced the roll into small pieces with a sharp knife and placed it elegantly on the long, narrow plate. His white chef’s coat stayed pristine as a reflection of his exactitude in the kitchen.

Finally, the phone stopped ringing.

“Fuse,” called out a server, who was holding the phone. “It’s for you!”

Puzzled, he pushed the plated sushi out for the server to whisk away to a table, and he briskly walked to the phone.

“Hello?” he asked after putting it to his ear.

“Fuse, my son,” his mother replied over the phone. Fuse had not spoken to her since he had left Japan against her wishes.

“Mother…” trailed off Fuse in both surprise and apprehension.

“I thought you should know, your father is not well,” she said.

Fuse froze and did not respond.

His father, once a gloried and famous Japanese professional wrestler, was now debilitated from injuries in the ring. His mental faculties and body had been withering for a decade.

“You must return home, at once,” she stated flatly. “We are not mad that you left, but we miss you dearly and need you back.”

After another moment, Fuse gathered his thoughts.

“Mother, I am sorry I disobeyed you,” he replied. “Though I know you won’t understand, I must stay just a short while longer… I cannot return until I have upheld the honor of our family name.”

“Fuse,” his mother began again. “We cannot make you return, as you are now a grown man and we… I… no longer control you. But your father is frail, and I do not wish for you to live with regret. Please come home.”

Fuse furrowed his brow in concern and frustration.

“Just a little while longer, mother,” he answered once more. “When I return, I shall bring proof of my success.”

“Yes, okay,” his mother sadly said. “Do what you must and return at once.”

“Mother,” Fuse replied. “I love you and miss you. Please give tell father the same.”

“I love you too, Fuse,” answered his mother, who hung up the other end of the line.

Fuse set down the phone and quickly tightened the belt around his chef’s coat. He took a moment to gather his thoughts before retaking his place on the sushi line.

The fact that his father was ill meant his time was limited.