L.A.W. - League of Anime Wrestling

Reagan Stuart vs Akemi Ishikawa
Match Type: "Standard."
Win by scoring a pinfall of three seconds on the opponent, forcing a wrestler to submit, or knocking the wrestler out. Additionally, 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 or pinfall MUST happen within the confines of the ring.

Spoiler

"...Entering the ring first, hailing from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania...standing at 5'4 and weighing in at 118 lbs...the DEMON TWIN...the FERAL FURY...REAGAN STUART!!!"


A few sparks of pyrotechnics burst from beneath the stage, lighting up the entrance area with a fiery glow, illuminating the sturdy yet short brunette's figure as Reagan appeared, bathed in dark red lighting and a whole lot of menace. Flanking her was her twin sister, Trish, who merrily skipped along behind her sibling, excited to see her in action. The non-participating twin served as the other's valet, offering support to their sibling. Their sisterly connection gave them peace of mind and motivation. So long as they had each other in their corner...tag match or otherwise...they felt unstoppable, even if they weren't.

Reagan stood firm atop the ramp, her small yet toned body reflecting that of a tested professional wrestler who crafted a track record for herself rooted in violence and brawling, but she wasn't without her discipline, either. She clenched her fists tightly as she wasted no time with dancing around or posing. Like a trained soldier acting on orders, she moved with a purpose, marching down toward the ring with fervor and focus. Finally-...she thought to herself. It was finally time for her to kick some ass. Her sister had plenty of fun on her own time. Now, it was the other Stuart sister's opportunity to demonstrate who she was, to showcase the level of destruction and domination she could bring to this arena. Shockingly enough, Reagan had this calm yet eager look on her face, clearly showing some excitement for what was to come, something she had been itching to find for quite some time...a proper fight...

Her enthusiastic nature was unsettling and intimidating, as no one in the audience dared to catch her glare, not while she seemed poised to snap at the nearest target, capable of breaking anyone like a twig with little more than a glance. Reagan approached the ring and glanced back at her sister, nodding at one another with a sly smirk before climbing up the apron and slipping through the ropes, making her way to the corner where she awaited her opponent's arrival, with Trish on the sidelines in the ringside area, cheering her sister on.

Spoiler

“…And her opponent…from Osaka, Japan…standing at 5’7 and weighing in at 137 pounds…AKEMI ISHIKAWA!!!”

Akemi Ishikawa

Spoiler

The lights dimmed into a deep azure glow, bathing the arena in a tranquil but haunting calm. A low hum filled the air, signaling the arrival of a veteran—one who needed no theatrics to command attention. Emerging at the top of the ramp was Akemi Ishikawa, her chiseled frame gleaming under the lights. Her white two-piece gear, taped wrists, and tall lace-up boots reflected purity and discipline—unadorned, yet striking in its simplicity.

Every muscle in her sculpted body spoke of years of dedication. The crowd murmured—not in wild cheers, but in reverence. Akemi’s black hair framed her focused face, and the faintest of smirks crossed her lips as she locked eyes with Reagan Stuart in the ring.

Descending the ramp with the composure of a calm vet, Akemi moved like a tide—measured, unstoppable, and serene. She stepped onto the apron, wiped her boots, and entered between the ropes, bowing lightly toward her opponent before straightening her stance.

There was no arrogance in her posture—only certainty.
Where Reagan’s fury burned like wildfire, Akemi’s presence was like a stone wall.

When Akemi appeared, Reagan felt her smile grow. Now THIS would be a challenge, certainly an exciting one, to say the least. Reagan studied her opponent from afar. A little taller, a bit heavier, and definitely more experienced, at least based on her age. Good. Reagan didn't want any excuses circulating through the grapevine about her having it easy. Akemi wasn't some throwaway punk for her to demolish, nor was she some wall to climb over...she was a mountain to tear down, stone by stone. Her body spoke to her level of diligence, discipline, and experience. Despite her reserved attire, she carried a rather noble presence to her. Every move was made with careful thought and confidence. There wasn't a single thing off about her presentation, nor any fallacies or lies. Akemi Ishikawa was the genuine article, and that made the more explosive Stuart sister gleeful.

When Akemi entered the ring, there was a prolonged moment of silence between the two, surrounded by the steady murmurs of the excited onlookers in the audience, who chattered with speculation and anticipation, waiting on the edge of their seats in suspense as they could feel the tension in the air. No words had to be spoken between Reagan and Akemi. These two knew that they'd let their actions speak for them. And without further ado-...they'd finally get the signal to begin.


DING DING DING!!!


When the bell rang, Reagan RUSHED forward with fists clenched and her 'fangs' bared, rushing Akemi with a volley of clobbering Forearm Strikes as she decided to forego the typical grappling contest opening, choosing to instead resort to pure violence with stiff strikes in order to test how durable the older woman was.

The first forearm cracked across Akemi’s jaw with surprising force. The second and third followed just as quick, the younger Stuart firing off with reckless abandon!

Each blow made Akemi stagger half a step, her head snapping slightly from the impact—but her expression never broke. She absorbed some of the blows, her body tensing and loosening in rhythm, eyes locked on Reagan the entire time.

Another forearm landed, and this time, Akemi’s lips curled into the faintest smirk. The fire. The energy. The defiance. It was exactly what she expected.

Then—

CRACK!

—Akemi fired back. A stiff forearm of her own, perfectly placed, catching Reagan square across the chest. The sound echoed through the arena. Before the younger woman could reset, Akemi stepped forward, snapping off a second, then a third—her strikes clean, efficient, and brutally sharp. Each hit carried the weight of her experience, the precision of someone who’d mastered the art of timing.

“Let’s see your endurance,”

Akemi murmured under her breath, low but audible enough for Reagan to hear between impacts.

The veteran transitioned smoothly, hooking an arm around Reagan’s neck and pulling her into a tight clinch. From there, Akemi attempted to deliver a series of short, punishing knees to the midsection!

Reagan unleashed a volley of blows upon Akemi, firing off like a line of cannons from the deck of a ship, her forearm rattling against Akemi's jaw. Much to her surprise...and delight...Akemi wasn't buckling, even as she stood there and took every single strike, intriguing the brown-haired newcomer. If anything, Reagan's ferocious start seemed to excite the older woman as she would soon match the young upstart's energy in kind. Before Reagan could react, Akemi stopped her next attack mid-wind-up, catching Reagan with a Forearm Strike of her own as she CLOBBERED her upside the chest. Reagan's eyes widened as her smile staggered for a second, only for it to widen further as she took the pain head-on, feeling it course through her skin and bones as she seethed silently.

Then-...another...and another!!!

Akemi fired off two more back-to-back, each one precise and perfectly timed, showcasing her experience in the ring, refined from years of trial and error. Her form was surgical, and her poise was rock-solid. There was barely a flaw to her movements...even those in the back rows of the crowd could see it...and Reagan could FEEL it, especially when Akemi transitioned into a clinch position, locking the brown-haired girl into place before SLAMMING her abdomen with a volley of knee strikes, burying each one as deep as she could to test how tough those abs were. Reagan let out a puff of air with each strike, standing her ground and digging her feet into the canvas, bracing for impact as she tensed up to try and resist every blow that Akemi threw at her, as if to prove her resolve and toughness.

Akemi felt Reagan brace—felt the way the younger woman accepted the pain instead of shrinking from it. That alone told her everything she needed to know. Reagan wasn’t just reckless. She wanted the test.

So Akemi gave her one.

After the final knee landed, Akemi released the clinch and took one smooth step back, creating just enough space. Her stance shifted—weight distributed, hips rotating—her intentions telegraphed only in the calm precision of her movement.

WHIP—!

Akemi attempted to snap a stiff roundhouse kick toward the side of Reagan’s head!

Spoiler

If landed Akemi's shin would definitely rattle and knock down the younger wrestler...

Reagan would only have just a second to react!

The blow was stiff, sharp, and sudden. Despite seeing the wind up, there was no way that Reagan would be able to dodge it in time. After being winded by those knees, the brunette was basically a wide-open target for Akemi to take advantage of. With a quick swipe, Akemi's shin sliced through the air like an axe before CRASHING against the side of Reagan's head, shocking her right to the core as she staggered for a second, eyes rolling back into her skull as she was seemingly out on her feet from just the single blow alone.

However, before Akemi could pull her leg away, Reagan suddenly snapped back to life, grabbing hold of the woman's limb before twisting around and dragging Akemi with her to the ground. Right then and there, Reagan demonstrated her philosophy to Akemi, building on the little 'dynamic' that they've fostered thus far, mere minutes into their clash. If Reagan couldn't dodge a hit, she'd sure as hell pay it back TWICE as hard...in this case, it was taking the older woman to the mat and locking her up in a Stretch Muffler!

Spoiler

The impact still rang in Akemi’s shin when Reagan suddenly came alive, catching her leg mid-recoil.
Before the veteran could fully reset her footing, the younger woman twisted sharply and hauled Akemi down to the mat, trapping her leg across her shoulders in a tight Stretch Muffler.

A sharp jolt of pain shot through Akemi’s hamstring and lower back, her muscles tensing as Reagan wrenched upward. Her hands clawed briefly at the canvas, teeth gritting—every inch of her body reminded of the younger woman’s power.

But panic never surfaced and veteran experience took over.

Akemi exhaled through the pain, rolled her upper body toward the pressure, and hooked an arm out, dragging herself across the mat inch by inch until her free hand stretched forward and pressed against the bottom rope.

“Rope!”

she hissed, voice firm.

The referee stepped in, forcing Reagan to release. Akemi clutched her leg, flexing it once to test it, a faint smirk curling at the edge of her lips—

the kid had bite.

Reagan was a little shaken by the kick, but her plan worked out perfectly as she trapped Akemi in a tight Stretch Muffler, taking her down to the ground and forcing her into quite the scramble. The veteran was patient, calm, and composed, but pain still appeared on her face as she grimaced, in spite of her struggles and resilience. It was a slow burn, but Reagan was starting to wear her down...more than that, the young and ferocious brunette was beginning to impress the veteran as well. The real kicker came when Akemi managed to grab hold of the nearby rope.

Despite her more devilish, monstrous look and insidiously fiery attitude, Reagan didn't force the Stretch Muffler after the rope break. In a potentially unexpected showing of restraint and respectfulness, she complied the moment she heard the referee call for it. While Akemi tended to her leg, Reagan used this moment to get back to her feet, prowling around like a hungry lion stalking its prey as she paced back and forth, grinning right back at the older woman as she waited for her to stand back up.

Once Akemi did, Reagan would pounce onto her, trying to overtake her with a quick grapple attempt before forcing the woman into the ropes with an Irish Whip, hoping to force a rebound off the ropes so that Akemi came running right back into an Uraken attempt as Reagan twisted around, slinging her forearm around with the intent of cracking Akemi upside the head.

Spoiler

Akemi pushed off the ropes, leg still tender, breath steadying—just in time for Reagan to surge in. The younger woman’s grip was quick and decisive, and before Akemi could fully reset her base, she was sent barreling toward the ropes.

The rebound snapped her backward—

CRACK!!

Reagan’s Uraken smashed against the side of Akemi’s skull with a brutal, echoing smack that rippled through the arena. Akemi’s body went rigid on impact, her posture freezing for a heartbeat, eyes momentarily glassy as the shock ran down her spine.

Her legs wobbled.
Her stance faltered.
She looked like she might collapse right then and there...

but the veteran’s instinct fired off one last spark.

Akemi twisted her hips and let her momentum carry her, whipping up one desperate, stiff roundhouse toward Reagan’s head. It wasn’t elegant. It wasn’t timed perfectly. It was pure grit—a final answering strike born from muscle memory and sheer will.

Whether it hit clean or only grazed its mark, the effort drained the last of her balance.

Akemi’s body finally gave out—

and she fell straight to the mat like a board, landing flat on her back as the crowd erupted.