Osaka "The Hammer" Teishei makes his steady, unhurried way through the crowd, searching for a tournament worthy of his time and might, barely noticing how the little people make way for him.  Unlike the hyperactive twins he spots in passing, he simply walks ahead, and the crowd parts before him like grain before a scythe.<br/><br/>Championship of not Getting... bah, pathetic.  Pussycat Brawl... perhaps later.  This one looks promising... Big Bob's Biweekly Beatdown.  Not the most prestigious event in town, but one must start somewhere.  He walks up to the registrar's desk, the street shaking slightly under his footsteps.  The official looks up as his shadow falls across the table; Osaka's lip curls ever so slightly as the smaller man rears back from him.<br/><br/>"I would like to enter your tournament."