Even though I'd apparently pissed off Onita and we'd been stiffed on our pay, Ito informed us that the boss had really liked our work and was planning on bringing us back "five or six times" over the course of the next year. But it should've raised a red flag when the very next tour featured a tag team tournament and we weren't invited. I still thought it was only a matter of time before we were brought back, but we waited month after month with no offer to return, while a conveyor belt of Fred's Calgary wrestlers went over instead of us.

I was bitter at the whole situation but when my friend Lenny St. Claire got his chance to go, I was happy for him. FMW told him to think up a gimmick a few days before he left for his tour, so he took the mask off a football helmet and screwed a strap onto the back of it. Then he had his costume-making mom construct a straitjacket that he wore over a pair of gas station coveralls and Dr. Luther, a raving lunatic based on Hannibal Lecter, was ready to terrorize.

With his eerie look and total commitment to insanity, he was an instant sensation. He would burst out of the dressing room door throwing chairs and running directly into the crowd, who would in turn flee in widespread panic as if Godzilla himself had broken loose.

The magazines picked up on him instantly and, after his first week, he was the subject of a six-page color spread in Baseball Magazine Baseball Magazine that proclaimed "Pray for Blood...Luther Is Here!" Dr. Luther became one of the most popular gimmicks in FMW history. that proclaimed "Pray for Blood...Luther Is Here!" Dr. Luther became one of the most popular gimmicks in FMW history.

Every time Lenny returned from a tour, I'd ask him how it had gone and then, inevitably, "Did anybody mention my name or when I'm coming back?" The answer was always the same: "Nobody mentioned anything."

I'd pretty much accepted that Sudden Impact had been a one-hit wonder, a wrestling version of Chumbawamba, until I finally got a call from Ricky Fuji almost one year later. He wanted to know if we could return for the FMW third anniversary show at the Yokohama baseball stadium.

We were going to have the important task of kicking off the show. It's a general rule in wrestling, if you're not wrestling in the main event then the opener is the most important match of the evening. It's your responsibility to get things started with a great match and set the tone for the rest of the night.

But my excitement was shot down in flames when Lance refused to go. He was still pissed that Onita had stiffed us out of our money and lied to our faces about bringing us back. But neither of us had any steady work outside of the odd match in Alberta or Manitoba and I was itching to go back to Japan. Since New Japan wasn't breaking down my door with offers, FMW was my only option.

Lance had decided earlier in the year that we should break up Sudden Impact and go our separate ways, but I was certain that I'd be able to talk him into a one-time reunion for such a big show. When he said no without hesitation, I was furious.

I wasn't going to let Lance or anyone else spoil my big return to Japan. So after a few days of holding off the calls from FMW, I called Ricky and told him that Lance had decided to retire from the business. Ricky was surprised, but I told him that I'd gotten a new partner and Sudden Impact would be honored to work the big show. Ricky gave me the details and everything was all set.

Now I just had to find a partner.

None of the local Calgary wrestlers could hold a candle to Lance's work rate and since our team was based around flashy moves, replacing him wasn't going to be easy. I finally found a guy I thought would do a decent job in Eric Freeze from Edmonton. He was taller and not as muscular as Lance but he was quite athletic. Even though he wasn't as advanced in the ring as Lance, I thought he was solid enough to get by.

He had a similar haircut to Lance and I thought from a distance people would be fooled and think it was him. It worked, as there are still tapes of that match floating around with Eric Freeze being listed as Lance Storm...a fact that does not please good ol' LTS.

I spent the next few weeks teaching Freeze the greatest hits of Sudden Impact. I explained to him that our patented double-team flying elbows and double leapfrogs were so original and unique that after waiting for over a year to see them, the fans were going to lose their minds. It was going to be bigger than the Police reunion.

I kept strictly emphasizing to Freeze how important this match would be and how I was expecting full-page articles in the magazines, mobs of screaming Sudden Impact fans, and lineups of chicks just waiting for us. I taught myself how to say "I'm back!" in Japanese (Kaette-Kita-Zo!), so I could yell it when I entered the ring. I would be the biggest babyface gaijin of all time.

Chris Jericho was going to be the the shit! shit!

I had a problem tracking down Lance's Sgt. Pepper jacket, because he'd sold it to a fan. But after locating it and paying the guy to rent the jacket that I'd created and designed, I got Lenny's mom to make a matching pair of black tights with full silver sequins on the front. I completed the costume with a silver sequin choker, black-painted nails (nicked from Paul Stanley), and black eyeliner. I was dressed to kill and ready to make my mark in the Land of the Rising Jericho.

But I had one more trick up my choker before the master plan was complete. My coup de gr was to use an X song for Sudden Impact's ring music. I knew that the fans would go wild when they realized that a couple of gaijins were down enough to enter the ring to a song by Japan's biggest band!

The only thing that stood in the way of my return was the complete indifference to it. The FMW office employees were cordial, but hardly ecstatic, and both the Japanese and foreign wrestlers seemed like they couldn't have cared less. The true indication that nobody gave a damn about us came when we had to walk through the concourse of the stadium to go over the match with our opponents. During the five-minute walk through the crowded corridors, not one one person gave us more than a cursory glance even though we were wearing full wrestling regalia-and these were wrestling fans that bought tickets to see the show! person gave us more than a cursory glance even though we were wearing full wrestling regalia-and these were wrestling fans that bought tickets to see the show!

When we went over the match, the most important thing we were asked to do was break up the pin when their top young star Eiji Ezaki (who became the masked Hayabusa and ironically ended up paralyzed years later after landing on his head attempting a Lionsault) did a moonsault. The extended back flip from the top rope into a pin is one of the most overused moves in the business today, but in 1992 it was rare to see one performed. Freeze and I agreed to protect Ezaki's big move and the four of us put together what I was convinced was going to be a classic match. There was no question that the fans and the media would have no choice but to take notice of me.

X's "Silent Jealousy" blasted out of the stadium speakers as Sudden Impact ran down the long stadium ramp to the ring. I climbed to the second rope and screamed, "KAETTE-KITA-ZO!" I might as well have said, "I'M A WANNABE AND TRYING WAY TOO HARD!"

The match itself should've been canceled due to lack of interest. There was deathly silence as we robotically ran through a preplanned match that was devoid of any meaning or storytelling whatsoever.

Finally, Ezaki set himself up and gave me the big moonsault. He hit it perfectly and the fans finally showed some life, reacting with amazement. Unfortunately, so did Freeze.

He seemed so mesmerized by the image of himself on the stadium JumboTron, he didn't make the save. He was so into watching the match that he forgot he was actually a part of it. At least somebody was enjoying it.

We won the match, but the five-star classic I'd been hoping for was as nonexistent as Freeze's moonsault save.

Afterward when I was changing out of my gear in the dressing room, an old-timer named John Tolos asked if he could borrow my boots for his match. "I don't have boots anymore. Why do I need boots? I'll just borrow yours." I guess that's the difference between a greenhorn and a seasoned veteran. I'd had an entire new outfit made for the show and he didn't even have fuckin' wrestling boots. I'm sure he also made ten times more for his match than the $800 I made for mine.

Onita was infatuated with having boxers and martial artists on his shows (remember, FMW stood for Frontier Martial Arts Wrestling). He'd paid big money to bring Leon Spinks, the former heavyweight boxing champion of the world, over for the show that night. The idea was for Leon to use his boxing skills against the wrestlers but when they told him to pull his punches so he wouldn't kill anyone, Leon couldn't grasp the concept.

"You mean when I give a punch, it's not a hard punch but the guy falls down anyway? That's so funny," he said in his slurred punch-drunk speech.

Leon didn't last long, as he was constantly smiling and laughing during his matches. If boxing is fixed, Spinks sure as hell didn't know because he definitely didn't understand the difference between real and show in the wrestling ring.

After the match, Ricky Fuji took me to the most famous wrestling restaurant in the world, Ribera Steakhouse. It was discovered in the 1970s by Stan Hansen and had been a favorite wrestler hangout ever since.

But the steak was only part of Ribera's sizzle. After the meal, all the wrestlers were presented with official Ribera jackets. They were tacky satin and rayon striped numbers with "Ribera" stenciled across the front and back. They were brutally ugly, but any wrestler given one wore it loudly and proudly like a badge of honor. Ricky joked that Ribera was Japanese for "I'm a wrestler and I've been to Japan."

On the walls of the restaurant hung dozens of signed pictures from all the wrestlers who'd been there. Amazingly, whenever you went you'd find your picture on the wall. Ribera himself would check the tour lineups in the magazines to find out which gaijins would be in the country and for how long. He'd put up those wrestlers' pictures and when the tours were finished, he'd put up photos of the next batch of foreigners. He was more of a worker than the wrestlers.

CHAPTER 33.

WRESTLE AND ROMANCE.

I left Japan this time with no invitation to come back. It bothered me because I didn't see many guys in FMW who could wrestle better than me. What I did see was a plethora of outlandish gimmicks: the Ninja Turtle, Pandita, Battle Ranger, Ultraman, his giant lobster nemesis Bartak, all of these larger-than-life characters. It was obvious that to be a big star in Japan I needed a gimmick that could match those. left Japan this time with no invitation to come back. It bothered me because I didn't see many guys in FMW who could wrestle better than me. What I did see was a plethora of outlandish gimmicks: the Ninja Turtle, Pandita, Battle Ranger, Ultraman, his giant lobster nemesis Bartak, all of these larger-than-life characters. It was obvious that to be a big star in Japan I needed a gimmick that could match those.

The first idea I had was the dastardly Master Sebastian (named after Sebastian Bach), who would be Dr. Luther's manager. The Master would wear a long black leather trench coat and sport one of those Madonna ponytail hairpieces on the top of his head for no apparent reason.

Then I thought I could be Dr. Luther's brother Mr. Hannibal, a character FMW wanted to create to cash in on Luther's immense popularity. Lenny tried to talk me out of it saying I didn't need to be a copy of him, but I was desperate. FMW turned me down flat for the gimmick anyway. Since I'd already wrestled in the company, the fans knew I wasn't a homicidal maniac.

Then I came up with the Parasite. I painted my face with Alice Cooper style makeup and carried around a can of WD-40. When the time was right, I'd hold a match up to the spray and create a blowtorch. What I was going to do with the torch, I have no idea. I never got that far.

When Parasite baby bombed like the Enola Gay Enola Gay, I got my next gimmick idea from watching an Iron Maiden Powerslave Powerslave concert video. When I saw singer Bruce Dickinson don an Egyptian bird mask, I decided to become the Phoenix. concert video. When I saw singer Bruce Dickinson don an Egyptian bird mask, I decided to become the Phoenix.

I designed the whole costume and started assembling it by first buying a bird mask at a costume store. I gave it full plumage by attaching a bouquet of multicolored feathers with a glue gun I found in the Palkos' garage. The costume also called for a pair of Hawkman wings, so I bought some thin aluminum poles from a hardware store and soldered them together into a frame of bird wings. I sewed some black spandex over the frame and glued strips of sequins, fake costume jewelry, and rhinestones onto the material. I ran out of money before I could buy the leather straps necessary to attach the wings, so I tied thin strips of spandex to the frame instead. When I put the costume on, I was quite impressed. The wings were a little lopsided and the mask was a touch too small, but the ensemble looked pretty darn cool and there was no way I wouldn't get a gig this time.

But my carefully constructed wings were brutally flimsy and the wind bent them askew during an outdoor photo shoot. They eventually blew right off my back, forcing me to chase them down like Rocky Balboa chasing the chicken in Rocky 2 Rocky 2. When the wind died down momentarily, I hastily tied them back on and screamed, "Take the picture now!"

The comedy continued after the shoot, when I tried to practice my big ring entrance. After a few attempts, I found that it was impossible to get into the ring with the wings on. I couldn't climb in between the ropes because they were too rickety and cumbersome. When I tried to jump straight over the top rope into the ring, the damn contraption just fell off my back.

My dreams of going back to Japan were falling apart along with my wings. I was ready to give up, when Ricky finally called me and said FMW wanted to bring me in as the Phoenix and give me a Porsche.

I was a little surprised with the offer and wondered how I was going to drive a Porsche from Japan to Canada. Unfortunately he was saying "push," not "Porsche." Even though a push was almost as good as a Porsche, it was a moot point because FMW was a day late and a keychain short.

The day prior I'd been offered a tour for the bigger and more prestigious Japanese company WAR. I'd started working in Mexico City at this point and had met Ultimo Dragn, a Japanese wrestler who'd made a huge name for himself in Mexico and with WAR in Japan. I hoped to get booked with the company for months, since Dragn was always looking for new opponents and with my Calgary/Mexico/European hybrid style, I knew we'd have great chemistry. Since we both worked for Paco Alonso, we'd teamed together frequently and Dragn was familiar with what I could do and thought I would fit the bill perfectly. Now I had my chance.

Dragn's real name was Yoshihiro Asai and like me his dream as a kid was to be a wrestler, but he'd been turned down by New Japan because of his small stature. He refused to take no for an answer and moved to Mexico, where he became a star under the masked gimmick of Ultimo Dragn. The name translated in English was the Last Dragon, the idea being that he was the last student of Bruce Lee. I guess that would've made him about eight years old when he trained with Bruce. After making his mark in Mexico, he'd returned to Japan and found a home with WAR.

WAR wasn't pronounced in the "What Is It Good For" kind of way, but rather "W...A...R," an acronym for Wrestle and Romance. It was classic Japanglish in that it was just English enough to make no sense. I was confused as to whether I was supposed to bring the Wrestle or the Romance.

Wrestle and Romance was operated by Genichiro Tenryu, one of the top ten biggest names in Japanese wrestling history. Much like Tonga, he'd started as a sumo wrestler and then achieved huge success when he switched to wrestling. He had the best chops to the chest this side of Ric Flair and worked very stiff, which the fans loved and I learned to hate. One of the ways he was building his company was by focusing on his junior heavyweight division, which was second in quality only to New Japan's crop of high-flyers.

The difference between working in FMW and WAR was similar to the difference between working in Monterrey and Mexico City. You could see the increase in professionalism instantly. The fine people at the newly christened Wrestle Association R (makes even less sense than Wrestle and Romance, don't it?) provided me with a work visa and sent me a notarized contract for the king's ransom of $1,400 a week. I was upgraded accommodation-wise from the Tokyo Green Hotel to the Hyatt Regency and upgraded opponent-wise from kickboxers and Pandas to real wrestlers.

Two of them were Jado and Gedo, who I'd met while they were making pennies working in Mexico. They'd followed Dragn's path and gone to Mexico after being told they were too small for New Japan. They were also tremendous performers and were major contributors to the strengthening WAR junior division.

I got along well with them, because I could speak the legitimate language of Broken English. I learned Broken English by proxy because Jado and Gedo could speak decent English, but only understood certain words. For example, they didn't know what a store was, but they knew what a shop was.

So if I said, "Would you guys like to spend the afternoon looking through the record store?" they wouldn't get it. However, if I said "Maybe you me go CD shop?" they would nod in agreement. Once I figured out what words they understood, I could speak to them for hours.

When touring Japan, the whole crew rode together on the team bus and all the hotels and travel was taken care of. This was the opposite of wrestling in the States, where everyone was responsible for their own arrangements.

Everyone from Tenryu to the ring crew traveled together and there was no tolerance for lateness. I learned that rule very quickly when I showed up at ten one morning for a 10 A.M A.M. departure. Dragn took me aside and sternly told me that my tardiness (I don't feel tardy) had to stop. A 10 A.M A.M. departure meant I was supposed to be there at 9:45. Japanese time was different from Mexican time, where a 10 A.M A.M. departure meant 10:45 or 11. Call me kooky but where I come from a 10 A.M A.M. departure means 10 A.M A.M.

But when in Tokyo...

My first match for WAR was in Korakuen Hall, one of the most famous wrestling venues in the world. Korakuen was a 2,200-seat theater on the grounds of the Big Egg Tokyo Dome (classic Japanglish) but it was the the place for wrestling in Tokyo. A match at Korakuen could make or break you because it was the media epicenter of the Japanese wrestling business. All the photographers and writers showed up in full force and their magazine reviews of the matches and performers carried serious weight throughout the country much like they did in Mexico. place for wrestling in Tokyo. A match at Korakuen could make or break you because it was the media epicenter of the Japanese wrestling business. All the photographers and writers showed up in full force and their magazine reviews of the matches and performers carried serious weight throughout the country much like they did in Mexico.

I heard so much about Korakuen from Lenny. He'd even left me a message written in black marker on the wall of the backstage area saying, "Congratulations, you finally made it, Clise!" It was like finding an Easter egg, so I got a black marker of my own and left a reply. He replied to that and so on and so on until messages on the backstage wall became a tradition before every Korakuen match. It was old-school texting.

Sadly, another Jericho tradition continued when I had another stinker of a debut match. I worked against Rio Lord of the Jungle, a male stripper turned wrestler who later worked in WCW as the Ultimate Warrior rip-off, the Renegade. He was massive and green, which was a tough combination to overcome. We opened the show and when I beat him clean with the Japanese debut of the Lionsault, it was the only good part of the match.

You never get a second chance to make a first impression...

I did an interview with Gong Magazine Gong Magazine afterward where I was asked how it felt to beat the Load of the Jungle. Because of the difference in the Japanese pronounciation of the R sound, Lord became Load. I think if I was a Lord, when in Japan I'd change my name to Boss or Supervisor. I'm sure the Warload and Load Steven Regal would agree. afterward where I was asked how it felt to beat the Load of the Jungle. Because of the difference in the Japanese pronounciation of the R sound, Lord became Load. I think if I was a Lord, when in Japan I'd change my name to Boss or Supervisor. I'm sure the Warload and Load Steven Regal would agree.

Despite my load-of-shit match, I liked the WAR style. It was the hard-hitting, no-nonsense, technical type of match that I'd become a fan of from watching Stampede and New Japan. The matches were athletic competitions between two warriors, with a winner, a loser, and no bullshit.

My first tour for WAR was only four shows, but I had a great second match with a junior heavyweight named Masao Orihara, which cemented my spot in the company. The match after that was another stinker with a Korean wrestler named Kim Duk, who had worked in the WWF as Tiger Chung Lee. Tiger walked down the aisle with a confused look on his face while holding a spear for no apparent reason. Was he planning on skewering river trout on his way to the ring?

After meeting him I wanted to skewer myself because he was quite annoying. He'd had bit parts in a few movies, but talking to him you'd think he was Johnny Depp. Our bus had a TV and VCR and he made sure to bring his movies with him so we could watch Red Heat, The Golden Child, Red Heat, The Golden Child, and and Blind Fury Blind Fury over and over again. over and over again.

"Why don't you put on Red Heat Red Heat? Arnold Schwarzenegger told me he really liked working with me."

"Let's watch The Golden Child. The Golden Child. Eddie Murphy thought I was very funny." Eddie Murphy thought I was very funny."

"Let's check out Blind Fury. Blind Fury. Rutger Hauer thought I was a talented actor and wants to work with me again." Rutger Hauer thought I was a talented actor and wants to work with me again."

Despite having to put up with Inside the Actors Studio Featuring Kim Duk, working for Tenryu was a tremendous experience. He'd worked in the States for a few years, so he understood what we needed as foreigners to be comfortable in a strange land. He spoke good English and had a great sense of humor. While I got in trouble for speaking to Onita, I would've gotten in trouble if I didn't didn't speak to Tenryu. Whether we were singing "Summer Lovin'" on a karaoke machine on the bus or smashing plates over drunken fans' heads at parties, Tenryu was as cool as a boss could be. speak to Tenryu. Whether we were singing "Summer Lovin'" on a karaoke machine on the bus or smashing plates over drunken fans' heads at parties, Tenryu was as cool as a boss could be.

On my first day of work, he introduced himself and thanked me for coming. Later on in the tour when I sneezed, he asked with concern, "Are you sick?" When I said no, he replied deadpan, "Oh, I thought for sure you were sick. Sick of watching Kim Duk's movies..."

(Curious Author's Note: I heard rumors that Tenryu had pearls implanted in his wiener, which was a Yakuza technique used to increase sexual pleasure. I never had the balls to ask him if it was true.) The last match of the tour was a big show at Ryogoku, an 11,000-seat arena known as the Sumo Hall. Ryogoku was where all of the important sumo matches had been held for hundreds of years.

The Hall was a unique traditional Japanese venue; besides the chairs set up on the floor section there were no actual seats in the arena. There were only sections cordoned off by steel rails that held four people per section. The fans would sit cross-legged on the floor of their area and watch the show.

All of Tenryu's big shows were held at Ryogoku and the draw to this one was a battle between WAR and New Japan. I was pitted against Super Strong Machine, a New Japan wrestler who'd worked for Stampede Wrestling as Sonny Two Rivers. I was nervous and Super Strong Machine kicked the shit out of me, but you know my mantra by now...I was taking him with me. I kicked him square in the face and set him up for my new patented move of jumping straight up onto the top rope and drop-kicking him off the apron. Just as I took off running, the referee wandered right in front of me and I totally blew the spot.

I'd been Mal Mason-ed!

But the match still got a couple pages of coverage in the magazines, which was always a watermark of whether something was good or not. There was a great shot of Machine dumping me on my head and another of me caving in the side of his face with a spin kick. When all else fails, just beat the shit out of each other I always say.

CHAPTER 34.

YASKY.

A few tours later, right after I was asked to be a regular for WAR, I broke my arm in SMW. After using my amazing mental powers to heal myself, I was booked to return to Japan. Even though I wasn't completely healed, I'd already been forced to miss one tour because of my arm and there was no way I was going to miss another one. few tours later, right after I was asked to be a regular for WAR, I broke my arm in SMW. After using my amazing mental powers to heal myself, I was booked to return to Japan. Even though I wasn't completely healed, I'd already been forced to miss one tour because of my arm and there was no way I was going to miss another one.

While I had to endure the long flight from L.A. to Tokyo in a middle seat of the smoking section, I was happy to get the upgrade for the CalgaryL.A. leg of the trip. I was even happier when I boarded the plane and sat down next to Owen Hart.

Owen was the guy that had made me want to be a wrestler in the first place and I'd drawn pictures of the two of us as tag team champions. Our paths had crossed a few times and while he was always friendly, I'd never had the chance to have a true one-on-one conversation with him. He told me that he was on his way to a WWF pay-per-view that day in L.A. and his brother Bret had given him shit for not leaving the night before.

"An extra night with my family at home is worth the possibility of missing the PPV," he explained. It turned out that we had a lot in common and we started sharing stories about working in Mexico and Germany.

Three and a half hours later we were suddenly in L.A. I apologized for talking his ear off, but he said, "No man, it was great getting to know you a little bit." I walked off the plane grinning ear to ear because he was even nicer than I'd expected him to be. Now I just had to figure out a way to become Owen's tag team partner.

My first match back from my broken arm was in Tokyo against my old buddy Vampiro, who was so saccharine friendly to my face that I felt like I was choking on cotton candy. I was past the point in my career where I worried about wins and losses, but I have to admit that I was ticked off when Tenryu asked me to put him over. It was a matter of principle I guess.

I was wearing a soft cast on my still healing arm since I'd rushed the recovery but the doctor told me I'd be okay to wrestle as long as I avoided taking a blow directly on the break. So I asked Vamp to do me a favor and stay away from my metal plate.

He agreed and did this annoying bow that he'd starting doing, thinking he was ingratiating himself with the Japanese. Instead he just looked like he had a nervous twitch. He should've just played X for his ring music, since it had worked so well for me in FMW.

Vamp considered himself something of a martial arts expert at this point and wore Muay Thai shorts in the ring to prove it. He based the majority of his offense around a variety of kicks that he had no idea how to do properly. He made that apparent when his first move of the match was to kick me directly in my bad arm. The pain spread like panic and he said, "Whoops, I was aiming for your ribs."

The rib was on me for trusting him.

Out of the ring, it wasn't long before Vamp was resorting to the same bullshit he'd tried to pull on me in Mexico.

A few days into the tour, I got a call to meet up with Tenryu after the matches. When I arrived at the Lobby bar, Tenryu wasted no time in asking me, "I'm very happy with your work and I just want to make sure that you're happy working for my company."

I was a little taken aback and assured him that I was indeed very happy. "Of course I am. Why would you even ask?"

"Well, I went out for drinks with Vampiro a couple of nights ago and he told me that you didn't like coming to Japan. He said you weren't happy here and were planning on walking out. Is that true?"

Meet the new ass, same as the old ass.

I assured Tenryu that nothing could be further from the truth and I was planning to work on as many WAR tours as he wanted me to. Then I spared no detail in telling him about my experiences with Vampiro and I made sure to let him know exactly what I thought of him. When the dust settled, the final score was Jericho-twenty-four tours with Tenryu's company, Vampiro-four tours. I guess lil old Lion Heart won that WAR.

Later in our conversation Tenryu brought up an interesting proposition. Since I was going to be working for him on a monthly basis, I'd have to fly back and forth to Japan every few weeks. He wanted to remedy that and asked me if I would consider moving to Japan for six months to live in the WAR dojo.