Victory via Pinfall, Submission, or KO
After her admittedly much-needed sabbatical, Katsumi's found herself getting more ring-time. That suits her just fine. If she's going to finally take home a title, she needs to be out there, proving herself in the ring; especially with the audience starting to warm up to her. She always dared the crowd to have a little fun on the less-than-sweet side of the aisle, but she's actually gotten some cheers. It's still new. And elating.
Tonight, she's set to face an American. Yet another country girl type. She's alright-looking. No Cathy Jefferson. Katsumi did her research. She snooped social media. She found what buttons to push. The audience may be seeing her as more of a welcome presence, but she's not gonna try to be something she isn't. And what she isn't, is someone who avoids sassing a person. It's what the audience expects from her, in fact! ...Right?
"Ladies and gentlemen!," begins the announcer. "The following contest is scheduled for one fall!"
The audience hoots back a, "ONE FALL!"
Katsumi, safely tucked away backstage, smirks. She never got that, but it somehow made her feel like everyone was on the same page. She's dressed in her typical gear; black short-shorts looped with a feline head-buckled belt, black wrestling boots to shin height, black choker, and matching sportsbra-style top. The final addition is a pink long-sleeved shirt. She's been around long enough that most in the audience know that last piece won't be a part of the equation long.
A heavy techno bassline begins to throb through the arena, punctuated with flashes of deep purple laserlights along the entry ramp set in sync with the beat.
Dat Groove
Timed perfectly to end just as the synth instrumentals begin, Katsumi enters the arena with arms outspread to either side. Her smirk has taken a theatrically confident slant, green eyes narrowed ahead to the ring first. There's a glance to the crowd at her left, then to the crowd at her right, before she pivots on heel and thrusts a fist into the air.
She's used to coming out second in a match. It gives her more to work with. But this is fine, too. The crowd's cheering, and it's no longer quite so jarring, but still so welcome a change of pace. She begins down the ramp at a confidently girlish sashay, her smirk turning to a predatory smile; like a tiger approaching familiar hunting ground. She takes hold of the bottom hem of her shirt and tugs it up and over her head, baring the sportsbra top and her smoothly-toned midsection in full.
Katsumi
Whirling again, Katsumi grabs the top rope and vaults into the ring, landing neatly upon her boots. She strolls a lap around the ring, one hand set to her narrow waist, before she finally settles into her corner and the music dies down.
