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Tula Kealiʻi · (05-02-2020)

------September 30, 2019------

Kaniela: Well, look who came crawling back.

I didn't need this. I knew it was coming, but I still hate it.

My brother has always been an asshole, and not just in the typical brother/sister way, either. He's the kind of guy who peaked in high school and rode his name to success while looking down on everyone who isn't as fortunate as he is. He's lucky, but he thinks he's a hardworking genius, and everyone should be just like him.

Our father wanted what was best for us. He would have given us the shirt off his back if it were to push us forward. For me, I wanted independence. I wanted to be able to establish my own identity in the world. For Kaniela, he wanted the easy, photogenic life - perfect house, perfect wife, perfect kids, etc. - and he wanted to do as little as possible to achieve that goal. So while our father gave me a plane ticket and a hug, he gave Kaniela a large check and the house we grew up in.

Tula: I didn't come "crawling back". I just came to get my stuff.

I left Hawaii so quickly after my father died that a lot of my stuff stayed at his house. I never expected to need or want any of it. I knew Kaniela would hold it over me like a storage house owner demanding money from their consumers before selling their precious items at auction. But in order to get a hold of Centurion, I needed to get my old phone.

Kaniela: Where are you going to put it all? Is the Red Carpet Inn going to allow you to keep your furniture in their lobby?

Tula: Keep the fucking furniture. All I want is my bag of clothes and electronics. You can sell everything else as far as I'm concerned.

Kaniela gets that cocky grin on his face that he's had since we were children. He's loving every minute of this. I'm surprised he hasn't asked me to get on my knees and beg for it.

Kaniela: I'll go get it. Come on in and have a seat.

Tula: I'd rather not. I don't plan on staying.

For some reason, that response tickled Kaniela. As he turns to walk down the hallway, I take a look around the living room. It's eerie - nothing has changed. The only think that's different is the collection of dust on the end tables. This is probably the first time Kaniela stepped foot in this house since Dad died, meaning the prick only wanted to be here to rub it in my face.

I look at some of the pictures on the wall. There are some of me and Dad, and some of Kaniela and Dad. There aren't any of the three of us. Just shows how we were always like this. Our father was the only thing keeping us remotely together. With him gone, Kaniela might as well be a stranger to me.

Kaniela comes back with my bag. It's my old high school backpack. He tosses it over to me with zero regard as to what's inside. As I grab my backpack and go to leave, Kaniela has to get one final shot in.

Kaniela: You know, the offer still stands. You can always come work for me. We could use another receptionist.

I'm sure the only reason he didn't say "secretary" is because that's a position for women he wants to fuck. "Receptionist" are the old ladies he puts behind a desk to make sure no one talks to him. I toss the door open, but I refuse to allow Kaniela to get the last word in.

Tula: I'd rather be dead.

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This world is difficult. It's brutal and violent and mostly unfair. If you're privileged, you'll get things handed to you. If you're not, you have to fight and claw for every opportunity, and you can't turn anything down.

That's why I'm making my Anarchy debut - because I was given the opportunity, and I refuse to let it pass me by.

I'm not going to pretend like I earned this opportunity. I just happen to benefit from being in the right place at the right time. I joined the XWF, and a few weeks later, Vinnie Lane needed wrestlers to fill out his roster. If I were to have waited another month before joining, I would not have this chance.

But a chance is just that - a chance, not a certainty. If I want to capitalize on this chance, I need to beat 20 other fighters. 20 people who are as hungry for success as I am. 20 people who don't know who I am, but will as quickly hurt me as they would greet me at the door.

This isn't going to be a wrestling match. It's going to be a bar fight. There won't be headlocks and suplexes. There will be fists and kicks and brutality. Luckily, that's the kind of stuff I'm used to. If you think you're going to knock me off my feet with a simple punch to the face, you're going to be sadly mistaken. I've taken enough punches that I doubt anyone has the punching power needed to lay me out.

It looked like my first match was going to be against someone who was a double champion. Unfortunately, Geri Miller's reigns ended before they could begin, so beating her on Savage won't have as much of an impact as it would have previously. If I want to make that opening statement, I'm going to have to do so by taking down 20 other fighters and becoming the number one contender for the Anarchy Title. Sounds good to me. I'm a flexible person. I adapt well to changes. If I don't become number one contender by beating Geri, then I will become number one contender by beating the rest of the roster. And if Ruby wants to hold on to that title, she will be rooting for someone else.

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