Holy crap, holy crap, holy crap...
Some meditations are more zen than others. But for one petite Katsumi Oshiro, this one mantra seems to be stuck in her mind.
Just prior to Sienna making her way to the ring, the Punk Princess was staring at herself in the mirror. She hadn't had nerves this bad since she started here, but even those were arguably undeserved. Here, tonight, she could lose everything; her dignity, her livelihood, her personal agency,
all of it , all in the span of three seconds lying on her back.
It was terrifying.
She sacrificed everything to dedicate her life to this extreme sport, and it can all go away overnight. A simple run of bad luck can undo her.
Katsumi put one hand over the other and managed to say something other than those two repeating words: "
Stop shaking."
If she were to lose here, she had to make it her best showing. If nothing else, she wanted her departure from the ring to be memorable for her performance; not as someone's property.
The quandary of why she even agreed to this match had been silenced for a while. She had to agree to it. That's the name of the game. Go big, prove yourself, become a legend. You can't do that by backing down and showing weakness. Whatever happens tonight, she wouldn't -
couldn't - do things any differently.
Except maybe have ignored Sienna's particular brand of wrestling and actually beat her that first time. Ugh. And what guarantee does she really have that she won't pull that stuff again?
"
Stop."
Katsumi squeezed one hand in the other. Someone knocked on the door to let her know it was time. With a final, heaved breath, the Punk Princess stepped back from the mirror.
The time between then and now wasn't really any easier. Her nerves were masked under a veneer of cocky smiles and haughty snorts at the idea of her being nervous. But behind the curtain, listening to Sienna's entrance, she was tense. Her head hung low, eyes squeezed shut, and breathing rhythmically. Finally, she began to bob on her boots.
Her music hits the arena - a predictably high energy tune from her typical genre of catchy Streets of Rage remasters - and purple and blue laserlights begin firing off in sync along the edges of the walkway. Everything in place, the announcer goes to work.
"
And her opponent! At 5'5", and weighing 124lbs.! From Osaka, Japan! Putting it all on the line! KATSUMI! OOOSHIROOO!"
The young woman emerges, hands raised and fingers splayed to draw in her own mixed reaction. She's cultivated an odd relationship with the audience since joining this federation, and she continues to revel in it, nodding along to cheers and boos alike. She stands poised for a few seconds, offering the crowd only that typical cocky smirk from pink-glossed lips.
Finally, she looks to Sienna in the ring and her expression adjusts from smirk to dirty scowl. Her right fist thumps into her open left palm, and she begins down the ramp towards the ring.
As per usual, en route, Katsumi takes hold of the lower hem of her link longsleeved shirt to tug it up and over her head, leaving her trim midsection open to the air, wearing only her black sportsbra-style top, short shorts with feline-themed belt, black wrestling boots, and black choker.
Absent, however, is any sort of smile. She's here on a mission, and her adversary is dead ahead.
She climbs onto the ring apron and grabs onto the top rope, leaning back to stretch the cording before spring up and over to land on the mat. With a sneer cast to her dark-skinned opponent, she makes her way to a turnbuckle as well, climbing to perch at its top.
Her arms raise to either side, ushering in more cheer and scorn, but finding her smirk again. At last, she drops and spins to face her opponent.
She takes a breath. That breath is not meant for the audience's eyes. That breath says much more than she'd willingly vocalize.
"
You're about to get wrecked, poser!"
Links to stuff I wish more people would read
Peace, Love, and Sexy Wrestling Roleplay Stories 
