Katsumi Oshiro vs Chiyo Hamamoto(D) - A Spark Ignites

[PuroQueen]

The pain in Katsumi's face was hard to reconcile with the feeling of relief washing over Chiyo as she successfully tightened the submission hold even further, doing her damn best to break her opponent's will. She could feel the pressure mounting, until finally, and without warning, Katsumi suddenly went limp!

Chiyo let out an audible gasp - was this it, was this the moment she had been fighting, crying, begging for!? She refused to let up the pressure as the referee hovered over the pair, confirming Katsumi's condition with an arm check. But Chiyo wasn't leaving anything to chance, her limbs still coiled around her heated rival with little remorse. Chiyo's labored breaths melding with the referee's count. This was it, she was confident that victory was within reach! Until suddenly, she felt Katsumi's body jerk, and she realized with horror that her opponent had awoken from her stupor.

She tried to hold on, to keep Katsumi at bay, but the punk wrestler's thrashing was too much. Chiyo pulled as hard as she could, another gutteral war cry slipping through her clenched teeth. It was only by chance that Chiyo's eyes glanced upwards, realizing the source of Katsumi's newfound determination: The ropes! Chiyo stared wide-eyed, determined now more than ever to under no conditions give her opponent the luxury of mercy, but Katsumi was relentless, bucking and writhing in her grip.

" - release her!" Only the last two words had managed to seep through Chiyo's ears. Her neck whiped sideways, her heart sinking to unfathomble depths as she witnessed first-hand Katsumi's ankle dangling on the bottom rope.

"NO, NO, NO!" Chiyo screamed, tears running down her face, but it was too late. The referee was demanding she let go, tugging at her shoulder, but the indescribable frustration made Chiyo do something very uncharacteristic: She pulled back one last time, trying to wrench Katsumi's neck just a little bit more, but it was no use. "Chiyo-chan, LET GO!" The referee ordered. With a gasp, she released the hold, tossing Katsumi's limp body off the side with a disdainful shove. Overcome by emotion, Chiyo could only bury her face in the palm of her hands and tuck her head between her knees, silently sobbing and screaming to herself as she struggled to come to terms with this failure.

There was anger, there was frustration, but above all, it was the sheer disappoint that was hardest to bear. This wasn't supposed to happen. She was supposed to win, to overcome the odds and prove that she was the better wrestler. But now, everything was up in the air again. She slowly lifted her head up from her knees, her teary eyes now glaring at Katsumi with a seemingly impossible mix of bewilderment, admiration, and yes, even a healthy dose of hate - a concoction of emotions that she had never all at once experienced in the ring.

"I had you! I HAD YOU!" Chiyo screamed, scrambling on hands and knees over to her still reeling her opponent. Now it was Chiyo's turn to grab hair as her fingers locked onto the slick black locks of her opponent, before yanking up her prone form into a seated position against the ropes. The audience was shocked by what they saw, they've yet to witness the once bright and happy newcomer emit so much anger. But Chiyo didn't care anymore, after all she'd gone through, she was willing to win under any means necessary.

If her opponent was still groggy and slumped seated against the ropes, Chiyo would quickly pop back up to her feet. Her hand grabbed the top rope for support, looking down at the woman beneath her. She coiled back her leg, aiming the top of boot for Katsumi's chest before letting her foot shoot forward with a loud HI-YAH! She wouldn't stop at just one however, soon two more kicks would rain down, each aimed at the same spot in her opponent's solar plexus.

But the assault was only just beginning. As soon as her third kick had landed, Chiyo would ditch the barrage all together, instead swiveling around and making a mad dash towards the opposite side of the ring. She crashed into the ropes hard, rebounding and redirecting her momentum back at her opponent with dizzying speed. It was fast, it was crazy, it was merciless - it was Chiyo's Flaming Missile dropkick aimed right at Katsumi's face!

Flaming Missile

[CyanDimitrik]

Chiyo's outraged screams of having had Katsumi see the audience aghast at the lovely would-be heroine seeming to absolutely lose it on the girl now visibly clinging to hope. The Punk Princess manages to prop herself on a sore, aching arm, looking back at Chiyo through a curtain of sweat-slickened hair like a battered and beaten onryo.

Her voice is weak, laced with the residual wince of the pain still shocking through her body.

"Y-you..."

"...had..."

"...nothing."

Hair grabbed, Katsumi is propped against the ropes. She slumps back, not yet having the strength to resist her. She stares up at the other girl, mouth slightly hung open, her gaze glassy and a little unfocused. The kicks begin raining down, each impact against her chest causing a visceral cringe, weakly flopping against the ropes with each shot. Every time her boot impacts her body, it's like driving a stake into her heart. She knows she can't have just survived that move only to accept more of a beating! She has to move! She has to do something!

When Chiyo dashes to the other side of the ring, Katsumi takes in a gasp of breath, her head lulling a little to the side. Chiyo hits the ropes and barrels towards her. The heavy thumps against the ring reverberate in mild tremors, feeling it all the way up her legs. Her hand reaches up to grip onto the middle rope beside her head. Chiyo hops into the air and launches like a missile, and Katsumi yanks on that rope to pull her upper-body aside, letting out a cry with the effort. "HAAHH!"

And just like that, Chiyo is allowed to sail straight out of the ring and potentially directly into the barricades.

Katsumi twists over onto her knees, both hands now holding the middle rope to steady herself as she looks down at the self-inflicted damage that is Chiyo's landing zone. She doesn't take the time to think about what she intends to do; she's running on pure punk instinct. She knows what she wants to do, what she can do. What will yield the most results in this critical opening. She reaches up to grab the top rope, pulling herself up to her feet. Her eyes close for two seconds, mentally bracing herself, before pulling back on the cable and using it to spring up into the air. Gold-soled boots plant upon its length, bending it down sharply only to snap forward again, launching the girl forward.

Her body arcs high, arms and legs drawn back as she somersaults in reverse, pulling her sleek and slender body taut in preparation. Cameras flash at the insanely high risk maneuver, audience members leaning in, a few screams rising in the crowd. But Katsumi's eyes have closed. She has excellent personal body control, she knows her rotation is on point, and her aim is excellent. It's in fate's hands now. She doesn't want to see it. Heaven or Hell, she wants to feel it. And unless Chiyo moves, that springboard shooting star press is going to land Katsumi's body squarely overtop hers, face to face, chest to chest, abs to abs, and hips to hips.

[PuroQueen]

This wasn't like Chiyo, not normally anyway. She wasn't one to just repeatedly kick a downed opponent, hammering her boot down with primal screams of rage, but then again, no other girl had ever caused her quite as much anguish as Katsumi. First, there was the physical toll, the brute nature of the punk girl's early beatdown, not to mention their very recent submission session. Then there was the psychological aspect, the mental toll of having victory snatched out from right there in front of you, those sporadic outbursts of unbridled rage and aggression from both wrestlers, coupled with fleeting moments of almost pervasive intimacy.

It left both the mind and body muddled, yielding a shell of the girl who had first walked down those ramps. And here Chiyo was punishing Katsumi for it, delivering a trifecta of revenge in the form of three rage-filled kicks into the soft underbelly of her rival. But that was far from the real kicker, that was coming this very instant in the form of one flaming hot decapitating dropkick!

...Through the ropes!? Chiyo didn't even see it happening, she simply felt it. The whoosh of open air, followed soon after by the iron clang of her body crashing into the metal barricades. ""AAAAHHH!"" Chiyo screamed, her body immediately crumpling into a helpless heap at the base of the outside barrier. It was a crash landing very reminiscent of her opening move this match, the one that Katsumi had ruthlessly used to begin beating and berating her in the corner. Only this time, she was already beaten, already battered, and already bruised. Now, she was nothing short of paralyzed.

Curled into a fetal position, Chiyo was a choking, gasping, sobbing mess on the ringside floor. Her hands clutched her stomach, her whole body feeling wound up from the jarring force of the failed attack. She was too busy processing the pain to even begin trying to figure out what had happened, but it wasn't long until the puzzle steadily pieced itself together in her mind. Katsumi, for all the pain and suffering Chiyo had tried to enact on her, had still managed to regain enough wits to foil her plans once more.

Sure enough, there she was. A dark phantom on the ropes, staring down at the nearly broken rookie below. Chiyo's body keeled over until she was flat on her back, forced to look at the scary sight in all of its unrivaled glory. She knew what was coming next, but the young debutant was powerless to stop it. The arena lights soon became blocked out as the phantom punk took to flight, using the elastic force of the ropes to spring up in the air with limbs spread wide.

SMACK!

The distinctive slap of body crashing into body.

Chiyo was rendered numb, her mouth agape but unable to convey her agony with a scream. The air was instantly driven from Chiyo's lungs with one loud gasp - Katsumi had landed perfectly overtop of her, with everything from the tips of their toes to the cleavage of their breasts now in uncanny harmony with one another. Chiyo could feel the ridges of Katsumi's abs searing into hers, imprinting their presence with the god-like force of a lightning bolt struck down from above. Katsumi had wielded her body like a weapon, and with perfect results. The rookie lay trapped and breathless beneath her opponent, legs splayed and twitching out from underneath their prone forms.

[CyanDimitrik]

There's something else to be said about bodysplashes. They're an odd notion of an attack, really. Landing the softest part of the body first against the opponent's body. Sure, you aim for the softest part of their body as well, the stomach, but really? There are other things to contend with. Ribs, namely. Spooky scary skeletons. And everyone has one hiding just beneath their skin. And skeletons aren't soft. It's a better landing than, say, bellyflopping on stiff planks of plywood with a very thin layer of mat overtop, or slamming into firm canvas mats layered just around the ring's perimeter. But only a bit. And when it's a full-body splash, as this one had been, there are so many more points of contact. Especially for girls. Namely, breasts get smashed against breasts. Bony hips thump against bony hips.

Everything hurts. Life is agony.

Katsumi lies facedown directly atop Chiyo, both heated, hated rivals panting raggedly over one another, sweaty skin against sweaty skin, hair matted to faces, hearts pounding against one another's chest. Were it under any other context, the two would look intimate. But given the ferocity with which they've been fighting and hurting one another, the salaciousness of the moment extends only to the visual. But that visual is being immortalized rapidly by the second with camera flashes.

God, splashing Chiyo was so stupid. The impact was so much higher than a top rope. The only benefit to it was that it didn't involve any heavy lifting. Her arms were still recovering from the submission hold. But now, she can't even move as the referee begins counting them both out.

"ONE!"

Katsumi's bosom and stomach press rhythmically against Chiyo's with each gulping breath. But even as she struggles to recollect herself, she can't quite help it. With the two so intimately pressed together, she couldn't pass up the chance to threaten her. "You're..." Pant. "...mine..." Pant.

Katsumi slides to the side, dislodging herself from the secretly inviting intense warmth of Chiyo's body, both likely covered in as much of the other's sweat as their own at this point. She reaches for the girl's soaked hair, grabbing her by the ponytail again to pull her up to her feet. With a twist, she aims to slam Chiyo's lower back against the edge of the ring, immediately following to pin her body in place. Abdominals meet abdominals again, hips locked hard to hips as her hands reach beneath Chiyo's chin to try to push her head backwards and arch her painfully against the ring.

"TWO!"

"This.. is my house...! You.. POSER!"

[PuroQueen]

Only soft whimpers could be heard amid the heap of flesh, skin, sweat, and hair that formed the tangle bodies of the two wrestlers. Competing fans screamed at them from the nearby barriers, opposing sides cheering on their wrestler of choice to get back up and continue the fight. But Chiyo wasn't going anywhere, not for lack of want, but for lack of ability. The impact was too jarring to comprehend, her bones and body too shaken to be put into any use at the moment.

From what little remained of Chiyo's senses, she could tell that Katsumi had not fared much better. Unsurprisingly, bodysplashes were almost always two-way tickets to pain. Still, she couldn't blame Katsumi from trying, it was probably the same thing she would have done if the situations were revered. The risk, the spectacle, the pure bliss of taking to the air, your stomach a hammer against the anvil of you're opponent's body. It would have been so poetic, if it wasn't so damn painful!

The referee began the count steadily from inside the ring. Chiyo's muscles twitched in the first signs of movement since the aeriel attack, begging her to stir into motion before her opponent did, but she knew that was impossible. Sure enough, Katsumi regained her wits faster than the rookie, using them to loom over the pinkette and deliver those menacing words with a scowl, their bodies unwittingly sharing in each other's heat and sweat. Chiyo looked into those emerald eyes, her mouth trying to open for a retort, but she could only choke out a few measly coughs. She'd have her say eventually, but for now, she had to regain as much energy as possible, and quickly too.

Unfortunately for her, Katsumi was not intent on giving her that chance. Their bodies peeled off one another in a slow sticky fashion, before the familiar callous fingertips of the heel wrapped around the girl's pink strands once more, dragging her up to her feet. Chiyo could only groan as she was led closer to the ring, before a sharp pain injected itself into her tailbone. "GAAAGH!" Chiyo yelped as she was slammed into the ring edge, her back arched painfully over the apron with her head hovering just below the bottom ropes. Katsumi accentuated the hold even further, placing both hands beneath her chin and pushing her upper half even closer to the mat.

Chiyo stifled a moan between clenched teeth, arms flailing wildly on either side of her opponent. Warmth seeped in from Katsumi's uninvited proximity, her hips and chest digging into the girl's smaller frame. "O-Oh y-yeah?" Chiyo sputtered, her voice strained from the tremendous pressure on her neck and spine, "I-it never has been...a-and... it n-never will be!"

"THREE!"

Her flailing hands quickly regained composure, one reaching out blindly in an attempt to wrap itself around Katsumi's neck and drag her closer, while the other balled up into fist above the girl's head. If she was successful in both regards, then Chiyo would rain down a hail mary of strikes in the from of hammer fists aimed at Katsumi's skull! While it probably wouldn't be enough to completely floor the girl, Chiyo was hoping to at least earn her freedom from the painful pin again the ring, which in turn just might help her continue the fight on the outside on more even footing.

[CyanDimitrik]

A deep, throaty growl rumbles from the Punk Princess, those emerald eyes wild and blazing with intensity. She steadily presses her hands tighter beneath Chiyo's chin, "You're... new here... but don't worry, Pinkerella... I'll learn ya..!"

The refinement from her training had, once again, gone out the proverbial window. There isn't much refinement or finesse involved in arching someone horizontal against a hard surface. But it feels effective, and it's easy to do, and it involves what she loves most about wrestling - physically pressuring her body against her opponent in dominance. Her hips push tighter against Chiyo's, locking hard to ensure her lower half stays put as the fulcrum. The feel of the curvature of her hips through thin, but flexible material of her trunks isn't lost on her, but the sensation is bundled somewhere in the thrill of dominating her and the visceral animosity the two share in this moment.

"GAH!" Suddenly, Katsumi rears back when a fist clubs her skull. And then another strike, and a third, finally getting the punkette to peel her body away from Chiyo's. Her hips are the final point of contact to break from her rival, the rich warmth lost that was shared between their bodies registering in the back of her mind. But for the time being, Katsumi can only stagger back, catching a hand on the barricade behind her to steady herself, the other hand raised protectively to her temple.

[PuroQueen]

"FOUR!"

As Katsumi stumbled backward, Chiyo slumped against the ring edge, barely able to stand on her feet. Her head was spinning, and her vision was hazy. She blinked hard, trying to clear her eyes, but the world remained blurry and indistinct. But Chiyo simply gritted her teeth and took a deep breath, feeling the burn in her muscles and the sting in her knuckles. Slowly, She put her fists up, trying to steady herself and focus as she stumbled away from the edge of the ring. Her arms felt heavy, and her movements were sluggish. She felt like her boots were made of lead, each motion slow and labored.

But despite her exhaustion, Chiyo wasn't ready to give up. She squared her shoulders, meeting Katsumi's gaze with a fierce determination. "You ain't teachin' me... a damn thing!" The defiant rookie spat off to the side, beckoning with her fingers for Katsumi to come at her as Chiyo teetered towards her opponent.

"FIVE!"

With a fierce cry, Chiyo launched herself at Katsumi first, throwing punch after punch in a wild, frenzied brawl. Chiyo wasn't the best of strikers even when in peak condition, leaving her form even more open and vulnerable than usual to Katsumi's counter strikes, if she had any. But that didn't stop Chiyo from trying to slug it out with the girl, swinging and flinging her fists in any direction her tired limbs would allow.

Soon, it would take too much effort just to keep her hands clenched. Her fists devolved into open palms, which in turn malformed into petty slaps across Katsumi's face and chest. There was no telling how much damage the two had inflicted on each other until the dust was settled, but either way, Chiyo was left utterly exhausted. Nonetheless, she reeled back her fist for one last defining punch, only to pathetically fail on the follow through. She tripped over her own feet, her misguided momentum leading her to slump face first into her opponent stomach with a weak huff of air. Chiyo face was buried into her rival's belly, deep moans of utter exhaustion vibrating their way to her womb. Her arms wrapped around Katsumi's hips, the feeble grip on the girl's waistband being the only thing barely keeping her on her feet right now.

[CyanDimitrik]

Those emerald eyes burn with passion and determination when Chiyo issues that challenge, glaring from between slackened locks of blueblack hair. She isn't backing down. She wants this. She needs this. This fight is just what the crowd needs to see to know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she's back and stronger than ever before. And she is not to be fucked with.

As Chiyo rushes in, Katsumi tries to meet her head to head. But she simply can't after those blows to the head, so she winds up taking the first couple shots to the face. Her head whips back with each punch, droplets of sweat spraying back to the first row of audience members. But they don't care. The raw urgency to batter and beat the other on display, how could they?

After those initial shots, gaps in Chiyo's offense sees Katsumi firing back. Her left hand grabs for the girl's shoulder as she begins throwing wild right hooks towards her cheek repeatedly, trading blow for blow. But in the end, it's Chiyo who seems to falter, Katsumi barely on her feet. When the pink-haired rookie falls to her knees, Katsumi slouches back against the barricade. Chiyo's face finds its way to her glistening stomach, and the punkette breathes in a little sharply. Her right fist raises as if ready to club against her head again... but it falls weakly, the hand opening to rest atop her head. Then slides down to rest along the nape of her neck.

And there the two rest. Chiyo, supplicating aganst Katsumi's abdominals, while the latter can feel every contour and feature of her face against her heated, over-sensitive skin, caressing the back of her neck.

"SIX!"

Leaning down, Katsumi hooks her arms under Chiyo's shoulders to raise her up to meet her again - and promptly swings a final punch to land deep into the pink-haired girl's belly.

That freed hand grabs for a fistful of her hair again, pulling to walk her back to the ring. And with a twist of the hips, she attempts to sling her back into the ring, rolling her under the bottom rope. And in short order, she rolls in after her, immediately seeking to force Chiyo onto her back to mount her hips. Her left hand reaches down to cradle the back of her head, but her right fist lifts, angling like the tail of a scorpion, ready to lash down at her.

But she hesitates. Not out of pity or concern this time. She wants to meet her rival's gaze for just a moment, to look into those beautifully intense eyes. Before firing a couple final punches into her cheek.

The goal isn't to knock her out. Rather, this is a moment to assert dominance over the rookie. To make sure she knows she's conquered before even the audience does.

[PuroQueen]

Where was she? And where were those lights coming from...that didn't look like her bedroom lamp. Wait, was she in a hospital room?

The loud ringing in her ears gently subsided to reveal the deafening cheers of thousands of arena-goers, followed by the blinding, bright, white lights of dozens of camera flashes as they raced to capture the two exhausted combatants in their bitter embrace. It was a rude awakening from unconsciousness, but a much-needed one nonetheless. Chiyo's eyes slowly squinted back open, the events of the past few seconds slowly beginning to reformulate back into her mind.

The flurry of punches, the shared screams of anguish, rage, and pain. Pain. There had been a lot of that in their brief and brutal exchange, and judging by just how bad Chiyo's head hurt right now, and the fact that she could barely remember the recent barrage, the rookie could tell that she had probably gotten the worse end of the encounter.

Yet, for some reason, Chiyo felt oddly comfortable. She was surrounded by warmth, her face buried into the soft tissue of another woman. Chiyo couldn't help but purr as a gentle, almost reassuring touch graced her head, her face lost between the curves of the feminine form. It was like a child embracing her mother's touch - Chiyo couldn't tell the last time she had felt this fuzzy inside...until her mind snapped, reminding her where she was, and where it was all coming from:

Katsumi.

And just like that, the fever dream was gone, replaced only with the cold reality of wrestling. Katsumi dragged her up, only to deliver a final blow deep into her belly. She doubled over, her throat too coarse and devoid of sound to issue even a whimper. The blow had served to remind her of one simple, unforgiving fact: They were still in a fight, no matter how much anguish, ambition, or warmth they shared, they were still in a fight...and only one of them could win.

"Uuuah! Mmmphaaah!" Chiyo moaned, her hair was once again ruthlessly snatched by her opponent. With little resistance, Chiyo was chucked back into the ring again right at the count of seven, her body forced to roll before coming to a lifeless stop a few feet away from the ropes. A fresh batch of tears began to well up in her eyes as Katsumi straddled her, forcing her to look up into the pitiless green eyes of her conqueror.

"K-Kat-" Chiyo barely had time to get the first syllable out before she was interrupted with the first punch to her cheek. Her head whipped to the mat and rebounded off the canvas, leaving her neck lopsided in Katsumi's grasp, her face perfectly prime for the second blow to the same cheek, which yielded a similar reaction. Chiyo wasn't out yet, that much was clear by her sputtered wheezing and twitching fingers. But if that thousand-yard stare had anything to say, it was that this rookie was all but completely and utterly defeated.

[CyanDimitrik]

"S-stop punching her!," demands the referee. "No punches!"

Katsumi continued cradling Chiyo's head in her hand, the fist raised, but paused at the warning. Her shoulders rose and fell heavily with each labored panting breath, her chest heaving against the gold-studded bralette. The fist lowers a few inches at first, before finally dropping the remainder of the distance to rest by her hip. The other hand eases Chiyo's head down to the mat before withdrawing, allowing her to rest. And there, mounted atop her opponent's hips, Katsumi just stared down at her battered form.

It's a weird feeling. Definitely a mixed feeling. An unusual feeling. This girl blew in out of nowhere and stood up to severe amounts of punishment right from the start. She held defiant even when she could barely stand. She struggled and held on through the Yokaidzume submission hold, only to nearly force a tapout to her own. She never showed her fear. She just came in, radiating warmth and positive energy with a smile on her face; and when it was clear it would take more than a sunny disposition to face the likes of the Punk Princess, she stepped up to the challenge to meet ferocity with ferocity.

Katsumi leans forward, pressing one hand to her shoulder. The palm massages into the skin as she pushes it down into the mat, the touch firm, but not violent. Assertive. Dominant. Her head tilts to look her over again, taking a moment to analyze the body she'd been beating on tonight. She'd thought so earlier of Chiyo's face, recognizing that she's pretty. She has a tomboyish look, especially with the sporty ponytail. But she's all over pretty. Physically fit, toned, not overly curvy, just... perfectly girl-next-door, if she were a track star. Or, granted, a professional wrestler. There's no shot this girl doesn't have countless admirers from the indies. Maybe even a boyfriend waiting for her at home. She doesn't see any taped-up fingers, the telltale sign of a wedding or engagement ring buried on a digit for safekeeping. And Chiyo's confident enough to rock that classic, equally sporty two-piece. And she looks damn good in it.

Her other hand moves forward, similarly pressing into the girl's other shoulder. She leans forward, putting more weight on her. The referee takes the clue that this is a pinfall, and possibly for all the marbles. She leaps down to the mat beside the two.

And then, Katsumi hears it. The audience chanting loudly.

"CHI-YO! CHI-YO! CHI-YO!"

The punkette's expression dulls. That's right, she's reminded. The girl came in, declaring this space to be hers. Brand new, a fresh face, and already trying to bury the current talent. Making a grand statement, getting the majority of the audience behind her, when Katsumi was the one who was supposed to be making a point tonight.

"ONE!"