Kansai Collision - Shion Akahoshi vs Katsumi Oshiro

[Unrelated]

Point blank, face to face. Close enough that Katsumi's forced exhalation blew back on the hanging gold streak in Shion's hair.

Close enough that Shion got to watch all that defiance sent packing. It was the kind of show that demanded she go full throttle and not let up!

Shion no longer had her hand on Katsumi's collar to stop her from doubling over from the knee strike, but she wasn't about to let that arm pull back if she could help it. She moved to transfer the grip to her left hand as she stepped around it to the soft-princess' side, only stopping once she had her hip firmly against Katsumi's ribs, and that arm trapped against the biker's body. Then her right hand reached for a handful of that ebon hair to yank the woman's head back.

"Exactly. Opposite of the turtle's tough shell. So-f-t." Shion said, emphasizing the syllables of the English loanword in her Japanese as she leaned down to speak into Katsumi's ear. She wasn't the only one that could engage in some trolling, after all.

She noticed the stripes and flailing arms of the referee girl coming to yell at her about the hair grab, so she turned to pull the punkette with her by head and arm. "Ah, screw it, Princess. Let's go for a ride!"

Shion turned again, in an effort to spin Katsumi around her before taking two steps forward and leaping, aiming to slam the woman chest-first into the mat in a crude and unorthodox bulldog!

[CyanDimitrik]

Katsumi needed a moment to catch her breath again, and for her abdominals to manually unclench from the impact. "Nngh." But a moment wasn't something she was going to get. Silky blueblack tresses are seized, and with a weak, "Aahn!," her head is reared back. The audience is treated to Katsumi's pained expression, a grimace at first. It breaks only as her eyes open to turn sidelong to Shion's face, her free hand reaching back to uselessly paw at the offending grip in her hair.

This is where her makeover sucks. Too much hair. Too easy to bury a hand in it. She can't manually pull the hand away without yanking her own hair in the process!

"S-screw you!," she sputters in English, the suburban Californian accent in full swing. It's all she can say in the brief amount of time that she has, her mind fully away from the encroaching referee.

Manually turned over, Katsumi's head is buried beneath Shion's arm. Her free arm reaches, trying to stabilize herself with fingers scrambling at Shion's bare waist, but it's no avail fast enough. They take two forced steps forward, she finds the mat leaving her gold-soled boots, and--

WHAM.

"Uah!"

The ring shudders beneath their combined impact. Katsumi's perky breasts are crushed against the ring, driving her breath out. The girl isn't particularly well-endowed when compared to others in the roster - she can puzzle out whether or not that's a blessing later. If it might've hurt worse if she had more to impact, or if it might've helped. Who the Hell knows. All that's running through her mind is a need to breathe again, and with that comes an attempt to pull herself to the side just to roll over onto her back. One arm lying sprawled on the mat to her side, the other arm protectively crossing her bralet, lets laying splayed, and back arched upwards slightly.

A dazed groan escapes the Punk Princess - frustrated and pained.

[Unrelated]

Shion's impact with the ring was easier, more controlled, and she practically bounced to her feet with how quickly she rose, a fist in the air with her excitement. "Bring on the fight!"

The crowd may have been making noise, but they were far from sharing in Shion's joy of the moment. That was perfectly fine with her, and that was all the attention she wanted to give those losers anyway. She took a deep breath and shook the stinging that lingered from her part of the collision with the mat.

Let the engine's roar and high-speed winds overtake worthless traffic noise, she thought as she turned back to Katsumi with intention. The woman was just lying there clutching herself with one arm in a way that stretched and damn near presented her exposed stomach. It made for one hell of a temptation, even moreso than the three outstretched limbs that might have been just as easy to wear down right now.

"Come on, get up!" Shion said with an edge of impatience, lifting one heavy black boot to bring down on that target of a torso, the red highlight down the inside calf resembling a knife stabbing down!

The real aim, though, was to try to get the Punk Princess to sit up enough to grab by the hair again, to yank her back to her feet. This ride wasn't over, not by a long shot, and Shion had no desire to slow down. She went for the closest arm and turned to pull Katsumi toward her until they were hip to hip, where she could get her hands on wrist and shoulder for a classic whip into the ropes.

The Bosozoku Bomber had an eager grin on her lips as she put her full body into sending her opponent toward the ropes, and it didn't fade as she kept the turning momentum going for herself. The biker's boots slammed against the canvas as she flung herself toward the opposite end of the ring, fully expecting Katsumi to still be dazed and easy to catch with an outstretched arm for a clothesline!

[CyanDimitrik]

Katsumi wasn't loving this opening to the match, but - she reminded herself - they don't think it be like it is, but it do. Sometimes it just do. And though various parts are now aching, she's far from out of this fight. And fight, it definitely feels like. Some matches feel more like tests of grappling skill. Some, like this one, seem like someone's taking the opportunity to get someone in a ring and just brawl. But that's what her training was meant to address - to take that raw aggression and refine the grappling artist eager to come out. To take advantage of openings and flaws, and make an opponent suffer.

A boot stomps against her upper-abdominals.

"UNGH!"

The pressure forces Katsumi to sit up as desired, both arms closing in to wrap her midsection protectively.

The pain isn't altogether bad, either. She's developed a taste for it. Not a fondness, but a taste. Since being put through the wringer at eighteen years old, she's come to know wrestling hurts. It's meant to hurt. If it doesn't hurt, it doesn't feel right. It isn't satisfying. Even now, with a fresh wave of breathless pain cramping her stomach, it's like an addiction. Feeling alive somehow, more engaged, more prompted to act. Even the feel of Shion gripping her by the hair and pulling isn't welcome, but it's expected.

She's pulled to her full height, the silky tresses tangled in the other girl's fingers. Arm and shoulder taken, Katsumi is first drawn in nearly chest-to-chest with her before being whipped out! Gold soles thump against the canvas, pivot on heel, and her bare back stretches the cables before launching forward again. She sees Shion ready for her, that stance, the way the shoulders are aligned...

...this is it.

WHIFF!

Shion's forearm and bicep feel only the cool kiss of Katsumi's hair breezing against her skin as she ducks and passes beneath her.

The Punk Princess pounces pointedly at the propes, fully expecting the other woman to spin around and hope to catch her on the rebound. It's what she would do. It's what anyone would do. She knows she's not been roughed up enough to be slowed too much. Not yet. But as soon as those boots hit the middle rope, the elasticity ricochets her back into the ring again, soaring at a low arc.

Slender body twists through the air, suddenly facing Shion. Her left arm snatches for her neck to catch her in an underhook. Her hips and lower legs swing in sharply, transferring the momentum into a whip-like SNAP focused on the pivot point that is Shion's captive neck. That force, paired with their collective bodyweight, urges Shion's balance to pitch forward hard and come to a crashing impact directly atop her head in a rebound DDT.

[Unrelated]

Going all out at full speed meant one only had split-seconds for every decision. Nail them and fly high, or miss and suddenly it's everything one can do to keep from wiping the fuck out. With no more time granted for any of those corrections.

The ring creaked as the ropes were tested by opposing lateral movements, and Shion's arm shot out for the clothesline. A split second calculation that Katsumi had to be winded after a few blows to the midsection, that Shion could move to some more traditional wrestling moves and keep referee-girl off her ass for a bit.

A traditional move that completely fucking missed and called for a split-second correction. Shion's eye twitched and she grit her teeth as she stomped down to completely stop her momentum, in a way that might have caused her to side a few inches across the ring if not for those heavy thick-soled boots. A hard brake and pivot rather than stumble forward after her arm caught nothing but air instead of her opponent's collar. It was as fast a recovery as she could manage, and the belts and sash at her waist flicked about with the sudden change in momentum. She was just fast enough to see the Punk Princess' slender form twisting through the air at her.

Shit, she's even looking good like that...

The thought hadn't even fully gone through her head by the time Katsumi was on her with an arm around her neck, body swinging to Shion's side. The difference in size wasn't nearly enough for Shion to stop the move once it was in motion, and all she could do was brace for impact as her boots were pulled from the mat.

CRASH!

While "hard-headed" is a metaphor Shion was no stranger to, it turns out that the human body isn't a big fan of being dropped headfirst onto any surface. Darkness and dancing sparks filled the biker's vision as her body rolled and sprawled from the impact until she was face-down and not exactly sure the trajectory she took to end up that way.

What Shion did know is that she couldn't just lie there. Gloved palms planted against the mat and legs pushed to try to get her to hands and knees, but her body was too damn heavy at the moment, too groggy from the hit to the head, giving a strong feeling that even if she did force herself to her feet, she might stumble again if she didn't deal with this first. She let out a low growl as she shook her head, messy hair covering the wincing expression on her face. "Rgh...

[CyanDimitrik]

It had come to be Katsumi's turn to take a measured and controlled landing, even despite the whip-like momentum utilized. It landed her smoothly on her back, but she didn't remain there. Her legs kicked up and inwards, rocking her balance onto her shoulders, then thrusting out to nip up cleanly to her feet.

Arms shoot to either side, inviting the audience to bask in the spectacle they'd just witnessed. "COME ON! LEMME HEAR IT!," she shouts back to the roaring static, the sea of shadowy faces, the sparkling, glittering camera flashes. God, this is what taking the beating was for. Moments like this, the turnaround, taking the world by surprise and proving you deserve the spot in the ring. The roar of the crowd beats against her aching body like waves crashing upon a rocky shore, loving the feel of the visceral sound practically pushing against her generously bared skin.

There was nothing like it. Nowhere else in the world would she not only get to be herself like this, but be praised for it. That's the beauty of wrestling.

A small tremor. Just a small thing. But it's close enough to her boots that she can feel it. And its surprising enough to get her to look down and spot-- hands. Gloved hands already on the mat. Already working herself up onto all fours.

"Holy crap!," she says, eyes widening as she turns to her rival. Leaning in, she plants her hands upon her kneepads. "You really have a thick head, don'cha?"

Mark another one for the tally.

"Maybe we're better off..."

She straightens her posture and brings her balance onto one leg. Her right foot tucks beneath her hip, pushing her knee outwards.

"..workin'.."

She suddenly drops the leg out from under herself, bringing the knee plummeting to crash across Shion's lower back with Katsumi's 124 lbs. backing the descent. She means to bear her down hard against the ring again, in a punishing way.

"..the body!," she finishes once the heaping pile of biker of achieved.

Rotating, her thigh slides along Shion's bare back until the Punk Princess has her hips nestled neatly against the groove of her spine, She leans forward to place a palm against the back of her bluenette opponent to press her face into the mat firmly, in a deliberate show of dominance.

"Good thing that's my favorite."

[Unrelated]

Of course that bunch of nameless losers took Katsumi's side and cheered for her now. Useless noise from useless people. Shit, they were loud while her head was still spinning, though.

Speaking of which, there was her opponent running her cute mouth again. Making Shion want to give it a good smack if her limbs weren't so sluggish. Still, she was getting her strength back quickly enough. Her mirror-shine vinyl shorts rode against her silver tights as her hips left the mat, giving a good show of the arena lights reflecting off her rear.

Being stopped in one's tracks sucked. Not just because of the obvious vulnerability of one being a sitting duck, but because Shion wanted to be moving.

She did get to move.. several inches down as Katsumi's knee drove into her back, returning Shion to a flattened position! Her lower torso was sandwiched between the mat and Katsumi's weight, forcing air out of her with a loud "UAGH!"

Shion gave her head another shake, tossing the golden streak in her hair to the side as she pushed back to her elbows. The heat and weight of the Punk Princess' hips and legs were still on her exposed back, which only meant more trouble. If she could get a good planting with her knees and elbows, she should be able to scramble out-

A palm to the back of the head forced her to kiss the mat, practically grinding her face against the canvas. "Aghh, frrkff..!" she said, her voice a muffled incoherent growl. Any plans of quickly crawling out from under her opponent immediately were shot as her hands went up to grab at Katsumi's wrist and forearm!

[CyanDimitrik]

Hearing Shion's protests, feeling her hands scrambling at her wrist and forearm, Katsumi leans forward to add more pressure into the grip. "What? Am I not turtle-y enough for the turtle club?"

Yes. She absolutely made that reference. Her shoulders even bobbed with it. Not that Shion would be able to appreciate this level of dorkage unless or until she bothered to watch the footage. But it was lost on the audience as well. That line, that absolute banger of a dumb reference, was meant just for Shion's ears.

Suddenly, the arm yanks back sharply - thankfully without a fistful of Shion's luxurious hair. She dismounts the girl and pivots on knee to instead face the other direction before throwing herself atop her back. Arms root against the mat and squirm, attempting to dig out space between the canvas and Shion's bare belly in a grounded waistlock. But upon making purchase, the punkette yanks to the side in a roll to overturn their bodies, letting herself lie on her back, with Shion lying back atop her.

Legs kick out to hook over her shoulders to restrain her arms back, pushing her hips snug between the shoulderblades. The legs then pull inwards, attempting to interlock at the ankles in lotus position behind Shion's head. That position by itself likely squeezes the shoulders painfully tight together backwards.

Katsumi's face turns aside, attempting to position her head more to the side of Shion's thigh to keep clear, while the hands against her taut stomach hold her locked into place. At least at first. The left hand withdraws from her waist to bring her wrist to her lips, delicately nipping the strap holding the glove secured loose. Then a quick shake-shake-shake to toss the glove off.

The arm wrapping her torso slides lower/higher, until snug around the skin just beneath the swell of her bust. Shion will then feel the bare palm set to her waist, sliding inwards, leading with the fingertips, probing, searching along the smooth skin, tracing out whatever lines of abdominal muscletone in Shion's midsection she can find. The search brings her hand flush upon the biker's lower abdomen, the fingertips grazing over the navel before positioning her palm along the center of her stomach.

The fingers spread. Then the fingers arch and press, isolating the taut abdominal muscles and clenching, squeezing in a stomach claw.

This submission move, she'd used only once before to horrific ends against Catalina. She's been itching to bring it to full bear now, again.

[Unrelated]

"Grmff.. Turtle..? Turtle?!"

While the reference sparked some childhood memories, its actual source wasn't coming to mind. Something American, definitely. It was hard to think about that stuff when one's face was being made into a pancake against the canvas.

Thankfully that pressure was soon released, allowing Shion to lift her head, working the face muscles as she breathed out a groaning sigh. Katsumi was still on top of her, and still a problem as she seemingly shifted to lying atop her. The biker scrambled to try to move while her opponent scrambled to get her arms around her. Something that was inevitable unless Shion suddenly learned how to slither across the ring like a snake.

Shion was, in fact, hopelessly human, and Katsumi's arms locked on tight, ensuring a good amount of skin on skin contact against the biker's back. Next thing she knew, she was staring up at the arena lights, arms still up and out from the sudden turn. In a too-convenient position for slender legs to catch them and yank them back down underneath her!

"Nh.. what the hell is this supposed to be?" As much as Shion wished that was a taunt, it instead came out a question of genuine confusion. She was lying on top of her opponent, yet was in anything but control. Her upper arms were back far enough that the elbowpads were touching, leaving her forearms to wiggle uselessly behind Katsumi's legs, while her chest was stretched and pushed forward, arching her back as she kicked her own boots around.

On its own, in theory this wouldn't be too much of a problem. Maybe she could even kick enough to smack Katsumi with her hips and make her regret the position.

Exploring fingers across her midsection caused a twitch in her body, followed an instant of hesitation. She took a deep breath, which only raised her torso further under the bright lights, against the arm and legs that kept her upper body completely locked down. Was the woman just feeling her up, or-

"Gah..!" Shion cut the sudden cry off with clenched teeth. Those fingers dug deep into her stretched and exposed abs, a dull but intense and laser-focused pain served up just for her! The best she could do in the moment was look around for the ropes and kick her legs in preparation for dragging the two of them toward a break.

[CyanDimitrik]

To her credit, Shion wasn't completely wrong. The glove came off for a reason. Not because the padding over her palm would somehow dull the effectiveness of bare fingertips cinching on defenseless muscletone. No, there was a bit of theater to it. Although it usually came about in the Yokaidzume submission hold, not this one. The point remained the same, however - stomach claw means no glove.

The audience would, of course, interpret this as a bit of titillation, daring to tease them with more skin contact. But in truth, she'd still do it without an audience to tease. Katsumi earnestly feels out the midsection's muscled plane before applying the claw, feeling out the best position to lay roots. The palm presses in tight as she puts the squeeze on the defined abdominals, though she doesn't have the brute strength to crush one-handed like that. No, that is purely indulgent. Feeling the stomach clench, flex as defensively as it can, and tremble under the torture.

She loves that feeling. And it's a feeling she's hoping to garner from Shion as the two wrestle on the mat.

To her credit, Katsumi gets to appreciate the other girl's figure a little like this. As her thighs flex and begin squeezing inwards, compressing the shoulders and forcing Shion's head to raise, Katsumi braces her balance upon her shoulders and pushes her hips upwards behind her back. Slowly, slowly the two would bow inwards, upwards, towards the skylights. Every inch is less defensive inwards curl against the grip on her stomach, every inch a tighter compression of her shoulderblades. She just needs to keep them balanced and stable, too pained to make a solidly concerted effort to roll over.

Granted, that might be a very painful prospect in itself!

Katsumi's hand relaxes over Shion's midsection, easing the arch of her hips. Her head lifts, cheek brushing the side of her hips. "Now who's the soft one, huh?," she shouts back down at her. As if to insinuate something, the palm pat-pat-pats against Shion's definitionally not-soft midsection. She's just trying to get under her skin. Plain and simple.