Kotomi Ito vs Safiyah Neferet, the 'Azure Cobra'
Match Type: "Submission Only."
Win by forcing your opponent to submit physically or verbally. Victory can also be achieved if a wrestler falls unconscious via a submission-based move. If a wrestler remains outside the ring for too long, they will be disqualified after a ten-count. Furthermore, if a wrestler performs an illegal move and is caught in the act by the in-ring official, they will be disqualified.
Standard rules - DQs, Count-outs, and the submission MUST happen within the confines of the ring.
Spoiler
"...Entering first, hailing from Tokyo, Japan...standing at 5'11 and weighing in at 113 lbs...KOTOMI ITO!!!"
Kotomi arrived on the scene BRIMMING with positivity as she strode forward through the aisle, hyped up by the adoring crowd who welcomed back the eager-looking rookie for what would be a very fascinating match. Tonight, the young Kotomi would be participating in a 'Submission Only' match, meaning that she would have to put her technical knowledge to the test and pull out all the stops to make her opponent stop in their tracks and give up. Whether by tap out or verbal submission, by the end of the night, SOMEONE would be submitting to their opponent's will and forced to live with the fact that they had to admit by CHOICE that their opponent was superior.
It would certainly be a bitter pill to swallow, so Kotomi had to be focused from start to finish if she wanted to avoid such a fate. After striking her pose in the center of the ring, she would move toward her corner, stretching her body, legs, and arms as a means of keeping herself warmed up and loose for the match ahead, knowing her lanky limbs would certainly be the primary target for whoever she'd be facing tonight...
Spoiler
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It had been too long since Safiyah Neferet last stepped into a LAW ring.
Too long since she felt canvas beneath her feet and the electric anticipation hanging in the air before violence bloomed. Standing in the gorilla position with her arms folded beneath her chest, she found herself wondering exactly how many weeks it had been. Six? Twelve? More? Time blurred together when management kept trying to shove her into degrading spectacles masquerading as matches. Hentai stipulations. Cheap humiliation. Empty provocation dressed up as entertainment for the desperate and the lonely.
At least tonight was a match. Submission only. A test of endurance, technique, cruelty and patience. Something closer to wrestling than the circus they had been trying to drag her into recently. From the opening in the curtain, her mismatched eyes settled upon Kotomi Ito as the girl bounded down the aisle with all the wide-eyed enthusiasm of someone who still believed this place rewarded innocence. The crowd adored her immediately. Safiyah could practically taste the sweetness radiating off the rookie from where she stood.
Sickening.
She had seen this type countless times before. Eager newcomers with stars in their eyes and fire in their lungs. Wrestlers who thought passion alone could shield them from what this business eventually became. Even Safiyah herself had once arrived with ambition burning brightly beneath her ribs, though hers had always carried sharper edges than most.
Then there were women like Morrigan. Safiyah’s thoughts lingered there for a brief moment. A warrior. Tall. Powerful. A woman who carried herself like battle itself had sculpted her by hand. There had been exhilaration in facing someone worthy of standing opposite her. Someone dangerous.
And now this. A smiling rookie stretching her limbs in the corner as though she were preparing for a school athletics competition. What a joke.
The arena lights dimmed. A low hiss crawled through the speakers before the heavy pulse of
flooded the arena. The song rolled across the crowd like black smoke, thick and oppressive. Fog spilt from the entranceway in pale waves, coiling around
at her bare feet as she emerged from the darkness with measured calm.
Emerald silk and black fabric clung elegantly to her frame, threaded through with gold detailing that shimmered beneath the lights like ancient treasure unearthed from a forgotten tomb. Teal gemstones caught flashes of white as she moved, embedded carefully along the ornate patterns decorating her attire. White wraps bound her arms from wrist to elbow, pristine against warm bronze skin. Her violet hair framed her face in sharp lines, sleek and immaculate. No smile touched her lips. No grand gestures acknowledged the audience. Safiyah walked with the composure of royalty approaching a public execution.
The crowd reaction shifted almost immediately. Kotomi’s arrival had brought excitement. Safiyah’s presence brought tension. Unease. The subtle understanding that one woman in this match viewed wrestling as a sport, while the other viewed it as a conquest. Her gaze drifted toward the ring. Toward Kotomi. The rookie looked smaller now somehow. Frailer beneath the cold scrutiny resting upon her. Safiyah said nothing as she approached the apron. There was nothing worth saying yet. Words were often wasted on people who had not suffered enough to understand them.
She slipped through the ropes with fluid grace before rising to her full height in the centre of the ring. The music continued to pulse around her while she turned silently and made her way toward her corner. Safiyah rested her arms atop the ropes and stared across the canvas at Kotomi once more, her expression unreadable.
