> The pachinko parlor was mostly empty at 2pm.
> The sunlight filtering through the glass made the silver edges of the machine shine dully.
> I put 2,000 yen into the sandwich and took out a ball.
> A woman wearing sunglasses sat at the machine to my right.
> She was wearing a black T-shirt and jeans. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail.
> Her profile resembled Iwatani Mayu.
>
> She barely spoke until she'd used up two boxes of balls.
> "You don't do pro wrestling?"
> She laughed when I said that.
> "I'm already doing it,"
> she said as she continued to shoot balls.
> "Pro wrestling is when it's done somewhere other than a ring."
>
> That evening, we headed to the venue.
> It was a fifteen-minute taxi ride from the station.
> A makeshift ring had been set up in a local gymnasium.
> There were fewer than 100 spectators.
> She stood in the ring and quietly gripped the ropes.
> The gong rang.
> Her movements were fast, accurate, and the match was over quickly.
>
> That night, we ate hamburgers at a family restaurant.
> "You lost today," I said.
> "Losing is part of the job," she said, sipping her water.
>
> A cold wind was blowing outside.
> As she walked to the station, she pointed to a sign for a pachinko parlor.
> "Do you want to stop by for a bit on your way home?"
> I nodded.
> Her stride was almost the same as when she was in the ring.