Standard
Victory Conditions
Pinfall, Count-Out, Submission, or KO
***
That doubt didn’t come from within. He was confident in his abilities, certain that he could handle whatever was coming his way next. This was his first match in LAW, but far from his first fight at all - he’d been throwing fists for over a decade, and God, did it feel like much longer. There was hardly a street in Ueno that he hadn't shed blood in, not a cage he hadn't stepped into, not a fighter he hadn't crossed paths with - the ones worth anyone’s time, anyway.
He’d won. He’d run through them all. He didn’t think he was the best, but if there were better out there, he was having a tough time finding them.
That was why he was here, to spread his net out as far as possible. That was where the doubt came in.
The sound of childish giggling was enough to break him out of his rest, and he opened one eye to check the source, gazing out from the shadow of his bandana. Two women were walking by, chatting about something in a language he didn’t recognize - German, maybe. He didn’t much care what they were talking about, but what did strike his attention was their attire. They were both dressed in skimpy red and black thongs, with long high heels that seemed better suited for a stripper’s stage than any ring. He didn’t have anything against that sort of attire - a small part of him that he rarely indulged even liked the look. But he would never consider anyone that dressed like that to be a fighter.
But that was the gamble with LAW. His opponent today could’ve been one of the strongest, tough opponents in the world, or they could’ve been some small, lightweight schoolgirl that he could take out with a single punch. For his own sake, he hoped it was closer to the former than the latter - not that he cared much what people thought of him, but even he didn’t want to garner a reputation for beating up women half his size.
Aizen finished off the water bottle at his side and closed his one eye, but it didn’t stay that way for long. Less than ten seconds passed before he heard footsteps approaching, followed by the voice of a stagehand who’d been directing him earlier, the same one who’d left him here to wait until his match started.
“Ah, Mr. Yuzuriha? Zen?" He'd never much cared for that nickname, but it was catchy enough for a wrestler, he supposed. "Why are you sitting on the floor, we have chairs…”
The answer to that question was ‘because I feel like it’, and Aizen communicated it with the blank stare he shot at the woman.
“Okay, then.” She had a fake cough and used it as an excuse to look away from him. “Your match, it’s about to start. You’re ready?”
He was.
Hi Izuru Style by Force of Nature feat. SUIKEN & S-Word
Zen
Entertainment had never been his strongest suit, anyway. He shrugged, made his way up the steps, dusting his foot off on the apron and stepped in through the ropes, coming out on the other side with a quick hop. He nodded to the referee as he passed, then made his way over to his corner and proceeded to warm up. Bouncing from heel to heel, throwing out a few light punches. Standard practice to make sure everything was in working order.
Just like every fight, Aizen wanted to make sure his entire arsenal would be at his full disposal. He just hoped his opponent was good enough to make all that necessary.