Editor’s Note: Jack Talos reached out to Slamwrestling.net and informed us he will be doing a tour for the All-Japan Pro Wrestling promotion. Per Talos’ request, certain names have been changed to protect their anonymity. Plus, who are we to argue with a seven-foot giant?
This is the second part of his recent excerpt of his recent adventures in the Land of the Rising Sun against his rival, Ayabe Ren, in All Japan.
By Jack Talos – For Slam! Wrestling
Day 75: Ota-ku (The Night I Returned the Shirt)
There are nights in wrestling when the lights feel heavier than usual. Ota-ku was one of those nights. From the moment I walked into the Ota City General Gymnasium, I could feel it in the air—the anticipation, the energy, the unspoken understanding that something bigger than a simple match was about to unfold.
The card listed it plain as day: Jack Talos vs. Ayabe Ren.
No gimmicks, no fluff, just two giants standing across from each other. The stage had been set in the months leading to this moment, and everyone in that arena knew we were about to collide.
The bell rang, and for nearly twenty minutes, it felt like war. Every strike echoed like a cannon shot through the hall. Every slam shook the canvas beneath us. The Japanese fans have a way of making silence louder than cheers—they hang on every movement, and in those moments of stillness between impact, I could feel their eyes locked on us.
The fight moved like a typhoon—thunder rolling in our collisions, lightning flashing in our fury, the arena caught in the eye of the storm. But the tide turned, and Ayabe found another gear, another level. He surged, overwhelming me in a way that only a man destined for greatness could. And when the referee’s hand slapped the mat for the third time, it wasn’t just defeat I felt—it was finality.
I sat there on the canvas staring up into the lights, sweat dripping into my eyes, chest heaving, and I knew: this was more than the end of a match.
Ayabe and I slowly rose to our feet, Hokuto-gun helping me, and we shared the kind of nod and shake only two warriors can understand. Ayabe took center stage, his arm raised, his victory earned. Staring at me earnestly, I stayed, staring into the canvas, readying myself for a fresh round of pain that was to come.
Because there was something I still had to do.
I walked to Hokuto Omori and the rest of “my” team. He didn’t say a word. He simply extended out the shirt he had given me for my very first match here in Japan when I first joined Hokuto-Gun.
When I arrived in Japan, Hokuto-gun welcomed me. Hokuto-san handed me a shirt. That shirt, and in doing so, gave me more than gear. They had given me a place. A family. A reason to belong in a country thousands of miles from my own. That feeling that I wasn’t alone in this place so far from home.
That shirt became a symbol. Not just of Hokuto-gun, but of respect; of trust.
So, in Ota-ku, I took it off for the last time.
When I extended the shirt back to him, the weight of the moment hung heavy between us. I folded it in my hands. Every crease felt like a memory—the wars we fought together, the nights on the road, the meals shared after battle. He took it, his expression unreadable, but I caught the look in his eyes. A flicker of pride. A hint of sadness. Maybe both.
I bowed deeply, not just to him, but to the entire Hokuto-gun, and I uttered the words:
“Dōmo arigatōgozaimasu. Tomodachi.”
Trying to say thank you to my friends for everything they had done for me in the best way I knew how.
The crowd in Ota-ku rose with me, clapping in rhythm, honoring the respect in that exchange.
And then…I turned away, stepping into the center of the ring. Ayabe-San was waiting. Our eyes met, and we took a moment acknowledging this moment and what it meant. We joined hands and raised them. Together.
Two monstrous powers, joining forces in front of the whole of Japan. The symbolism wasn’t lost on anyone—we had just written the final page of one story and opened the first of another.
That night’s press conference put everything into focus and came with two big questions. Cameras flashed, reporters leaned forward. Ayabe spoke first, thanking me for the match and answering the first question in everyone’s mind, “What comes next for us? What does our union mean for the future of All Japan and the upcoming tournament?”
Next was me. I spoke carefully, but I spoke from the heart.
I also thanked Ayabe-San for the incredible match, but then I addressed the second question.
“Why?”
When I came to Japan, Hokuto-gun gave me a place. Hokuto-san gave me that shirt as a symbol of loyalty and honor. Tonight, I returned it with nothing but gratitude. I will never forget what Hokuto-gun gave me.
I explained that, as grateful as I was, I knew what the right choice was at that moment. For myself and for my legacy, and that’s why I made the choice I made.
Leaving Hokuto-gun wasn’t about betrayal. It wasn’t about rejection. It was about evolution. About moving forward. And to the people who saw me fold that shirt in Ota-ku, who clapped as I bowed—thank you. Because you understood.
This isn’t an ending.
It’s a new beginning.
Ayabe said a few more words, but his presence next to mine said enough. The cameras kept flashing, but I wasn’t thinking about headlines. I was thinking about the weight of the shirt no longer on my shoulders, and the new path I had just chosen.
I’ll always honor Hokuto-gun. I’ll always respect Hokuto Omori. But the True Tall Tales of Talos have turned to a new chapter—and this one begins in lockstep with Ayabe Ren. From this day forward, I am no longer Hokuto-gun. From now on, I stand with Ayabe Ren. Together, we will enter the World’s Strongest Tag Team Tournament. AND TOGETHER, we will prove that this is the new era of power in All Japan.
Related Links
- Talos’ story and columns
- Talos’ socials via LinkTree
