To Reforge A Destiny

[TheLoneWanderer]

His back creaked when she settled into another top mount. This communicated an inevitable outcome to Senji. That backbreaker wasn't happening. The pain from his back being twisted by his own movements would not let him go through with it. He relaxed his attempt, placing his hand on her hip instead to avoid stretching his spine more.

Madeline's lips lowered to his ear, almost giving him some catharsis but pulling away before any contact. Senji, in response, tried to lean his head up to bringing their noses together. A nice, short "boop" before he let his head fall back to the mat. A little return for Madeline having her fun, and Senji choosing to reciprocate. The hand on Madeline's hip tightened just as her mount did, as those legs slightly interfered with his chest's ability to expand. Unlike with Hiroyuki, she was taking this slower. Moment by moment. For Senji, this approach felt like metaphorical walls closing in. Denying him release.

A moment of decision struck him since she had ended so closely. Another try at turning this around. Senji's left arm struck at her fingers, as he tried to get his thumb between the five digits and his hair. Then push. If he were able to slide her fingers off, Senji wrapped his left arm around her tricep's back before sliding that palm onto his other elbow. That way, he could grab her wrist with his other hand and wrench her arm into an inversion for a Kimura attempt. Anything creative could wait. Maybe this could damage her or get him free from the oppression.

[Lightman]

Madeline felt Senji’s body yield beneath her as she settled into the mount position, his back protesting with an audible creak. A subtle smile played across her lips as she recognised his surrender—the backbreaker he’d been attempting was now abandoned, his hand finding its way to her hip instead. The tactical shift didn’t surprise her; she’d been counting on his physical limitations to force exactly this concession. His spine simply wouldn’t allow the manoeuvre, and they both knew it.

She lowered her face toward his ear, hovering just close enough for him to feel her breath but denying the contact he craved. It was a deliberate tease, a psychological component to her physical dominance. When Senji lifted his head to touch his nose to hers in a playful “boop”, Madeline allowed it, acknowledging his minor victory with the faintest arch of her eyebrow. His head fell back to the mat, his hand tightening on her hip just as she intensified her mount. She suspected that by now, Senji would have noticed Madeline taking a measured approach—gradual constriction rather than overwhelming force- unlike her time with Hiroyuki. Her thighs pressed against his ribcage, not enough to fully restrict his breathing but enough to make each breath a conscious effort. She was building pressure incrementally, denying him the quick release of defeat.

When Senji made his sudden move—striking at her fingers to break her grip on his hair—Madeline was already shifting her weight. As his left arm wrapped around her tricep, and he reached for her wrist in an attempt to secure a Kimura, she flowed with his momentum rather than fighting it. In one fluid motion, she allowed her arm to be temporarily compromised, using his focus on the potential submission to reposition herself. Rotating her hips, she swung her right leg over his head and shoulder while maintaining control of his extended arm with her left hand. Before Senji could process the transition, she had locked her ankles behind his head, her thighs creating a vise around his neck and trapped arm. It’s one of her signature moves executed with a precision that belied the speed of her counter.

And with Senji’s arm trapped across his own throat, amplifying the choke’s pressure, Madeline would adjust her angle to maximise compression of his carotid arteries. No doubt with the triangle applied, she could feel him struggling beneath her, his attempts growing increasingly desperate as blood flow diminished. Yet she would maintain just enough space to prevent an immediate tap-out, demonstrating her complete control over the pace and outcome of their spar. Her emerald eyes met his, communicating both respect for his attempt and the certainty of her technical superiority. “A fine attempt, darling,” she whispered, her voice carrying no mockery, only professional acknowledgment of his effort. The triangle choke began to tighten incrementally—not crushing, but inexorable—leaving Senji with dwindling options and precious few moments to find an escape.

[TheLoneWanderer]

Too fast. Too quick.Senji's gaze snapped to the legs at the corner of his vision, huffing out short exhales when she got those ankles around his neck. The high mount allowed her to do so, and he would have been able to cut her off by recovering guard then going for the submission. Trapped between her legs now, Senji looked up at his master with narrowed brows. The Triangle had peeled his left arm away from her tricep, disallowing the lock to be completed. Inch by inch, he felt her lengthy legs minimize the space. This crunched his arm underneath his chin, making his vision go dark at the edges. He pawed at her legs, groaning lightly between the confines of her lap.

She would not pity him like this. There were only three avenues to getting out. In order to take advantage of Madeline taking it slower on him to ease him into the nap, Senji, with a gurgle that may have pleased her, attempted to get his free fingers latched onto the arm she had trapped. With his right arm secured, Senji tried to pull it to his chest and turn his neck into the crook of her knee to help buy himself some time by lodging his chin in that gap. The warm embrace felt scorching when he had been suffocating in it, with an apparent fluster from her teasing and the actual choke itself.

The next step involved Senji thrusting his hips up to compel his stomach to do the same. This arched his back, attempting to help shuffle Madeline's butt over his face's side since she may have been leaning by this point. If he were able to slide her off, then Senji's imprinted caution won out as he turtled up just behind Maddy. Hands interlocked behind his head as he took the defensive play of having his knees pushed into his stomach. He struggled on catching his breath now, feeling his heart beating promptly in his chest.

All these options to attack, and she WAS steps ahead of him on ALL of them.

[Lightman]

Madeline observed Senji’s desperate realisation with clinical satisfaction—his gaze darting to her legs, those short, panicked exhales telling her everything about his predicament. A subtle smile played across her lips as she watched his brows furrow in frustration, acknowledging that he now understood his tactical error. Had he recovered the guard first, perhaps things might have unfolded differently. But that momentary hesitation had cost him, and now her legs formed an inescapable vise around his neck, her technique methodically stripping away his options as she peeled his left arm from her tricep, neutralising his submission attempt before it could materialise.

As she felt him paw ineffectually at her legs, his groans vibrating against her thighs, Madeline adjusted her position with subtle precision. She maintained the pressure deliberately, not rushing toward the finish but allowing the physiological reality of the choke to manifest gradually. The gurgling sound from Senji’s throat confirmed her control, and when he attempted to latch onto her trapped arm and pull it to his chest, she countered by shifting her weight forward slightly, extending her hips to maintain the angle. His effort to turn his neck into the crook of her knee—a standard defensive tactic she had expected—was met with a technical adjustment, her calf muscle sliding back to eliminate the potential breathing space. She could sense his growing distress, a mixture of physical suffocation and emotional fluster, his body betraying him even as his mind sought escape routes.

When Senji thrust his hips upward in a desperate attempt to dislodge her position, Madeline responded with practiced ease, her core muscles engaging to maintain her centre of gravity. Instead of fighting his momentum, she rode it momentarily before recalibrating, utilising his own energy expenditure against him. As he tried to slide her off, she transitioned her weight forward, keeping her ankles locked while adjusting the angle of pressure. His attempt to turtle defensively behind her would never be materialised; instead, she maintained the triangle while rolling slightly to her side, transforming the position into a mounted triangle that eliminated his escape path. His hands, now desperately seeking to interlock behind his head, found themselves obstructed by her calculated body positioning, leaving him gasping for the breath that grew increasingly elusive.

Madeline felt a flicker of professional admiration for his persistence despite the inevitability of his situation. Each defensive manoeuvre he attempted reflected sound theoretical knowledge—textbook responses that would work against a less experienced opponent. But theory and execution diverged dramatically under pressure, and she remained perpetually three moves ahead, countering his defences before they fully formed. The pressure on his carotid arteries steadily increased, not through additional force but through subtle refinements to her position. She could feel his consciousness beginning to waver, his struggles growing less coordinated. Still, she maintained the discipline not to rush, allowing him the dignity of choosing between surrender and sleep. Her emerald eyes locked with his fading gaze, communicating both respect for his effort and the unspoken lesson being imparted through her dominance.

[TheLoneWanderer]

Senji was already caught. He had been playing along since the beginning. The redhead's cheeks were now beginning to match the color of his hair. The sluggish effect of the triangular strangle made itself known now that she rode out his escape attempt. Minimal adjustments answered his minimal tries for escape, as she continued to slow down her little knight's struggles. He could not turtle up as he wanted, to hide within the shell of safety it offered.

Senji's winded face softened into an odd expression. His muscles relaxed, deflating while he settled into the mat. The hypnotic green eyes hovering over his face did not judge him. Just regarded him. She waited for him to make his choice between two options, as opposed to deciding for him. He denied her the satisfaction of tapping out until the bitter end. His arms went limp in her clutches, as his eyes simultaneously rolled to the back of his head and closed themselves. A textbook KO, leaving the environment silent save for Senji's troubled inhales while he slept.

At least, she had not set a new record with him as the victim. The affair was drawn out, and he could only hope to have made Madeline content rather than recieved her ire.

Worth ittttt.

[Lightman]

The moment his weight surrendered, she knew.

There was no last burst, no surprise reversal, no last-second scramble. Just a slow release of resistance—the tension in his arms fading like mist under sunlight, the way his chest rose in shallow, uneven waves, each breath a little more hollow than the last. Madeline held him until the very last moment. Not out of cruelty, but with clinical precision—waiting for the subtle signs she knew all too well. The loosening of his core tension, the weight of his limbs as they slackened, the gradual flutter of resistance fading behind his closed lids. Her thighs remained firm for only a breath longer, then unclasped without ceremony, releasing him to the mat in the same smooth motion she’d used to ensnare him. She exhaled once, softly. No triumph, no flourish. Just a quiet recognition of control.

Rising to her feet, she brushed a strand of sweat-slicked chestnut hair from her brow, her chest rising gently with her breath as she looked down at the sleeping form beneath her. The angle of her hip shifted with the roll of her foot, which came to rest lightly on the centre of Senji’s chest—deliberate, but not mocking. A symbol. One that didn’t revel in dominance but simply confirmed it. Her eyes lifted toward Hiroyuki. Calm, unreadable—yet undeniably expectant. “Not bad. He is learning,” Madeline said evenly, the soft cadence of her British-tinged voice drawing out the faintest trace of amusement. “Too reactive in bottom positions. Still telegraphs his base shifts. Holds on for too long. And he has a frustrating fondness for letting his chin drift too far from home.” She gave a small shrug of her shoulders, one hand resting loosely at her hip, the other brushing sweat from her neck. “But... there is something there. His setups are good. He knew the right escape—just didn’t buy himself the time to make it.”

Then, with the same nonchalance with which she had applied the choke, Madeline rolled him onto his side before leaning her weight just slightly forward—enough for her toes to tap gently against Senji’s cheek. Once. Twice. Then a third, firmer touch to rouse him. “Wake up, little knight,” she murmured, her voice laced with teasing familiarity but not unkindness. “Dreams are for after the mat.” And she waited, foot still lightly placed, to see just how quickly her partner would come back to the waking world—and what he might have learned from the fall.

[TheLoneWanderer]

Hiroyuki had still been prone by the time they finished, occasionally looking for the few minutes his sibling and Madeline had been brawling. He perked up when they stop, his golden eyes softening in their strain when he settled upon Senji being unable to fight anymore. Fortunately for his younger brother, Madeline released him from her coils with them both having shining sheens of sweat on their bodies. For her comment, he had a bit to say.

"Yes, Senji hanging on is a bad habit. There IS some struggle I cannot solve. I suppose he is trying to solve his own 'problems' without my help. Pfft."

Hiroyuki scoffed at the notion, leaning back on his butt in a criss-cross sitting position. If Senji wanted space, so be it. Hiro just hoped it would not be irreversible if Senji's methods backfired.

Back in Senji's perspective, he roused back to life at her tapping his cheek. Out from the darkness, his gaze settled on the lights above and the woman dressed in a blistering white. Senji shivered underneath Maddy, with his twenty digits twitching to establish that he was back in control. He looked to her feet, making a squeak-like noise before taking her ankle in his left hand and physically pushing it off.

The redhead sat up afterward, curling his knees to his chest as he began to knead his head. His gaze darted before slowing. Anticipating another attack. He felt weight descend upon his side, finding a set of whited-out locks instead of a blood-covered grimace waiting to attack. He patted his brother's arm, securing him to his body briefly before he unfolded his fingers. A choke out. Madeline forced him to slip away. Not an uncommon way to get finished. His neck had been tensioned in various ways, more times than countable.

Senji scooted back to be equal in stance to Hiroyuki, copying his position to be ready for anything else. It gave Madeline some space. In the meantime, Senji and Hiroyuki looked up at her expecting instruction. The former displayed a severe thinking about Mads, both in body and personality, while the latter acknowledged the Rose with a relaxed smirk. All that remained was for the English Rose to make a verdict on her assessment.

Senji pursed his lips, speaking out against one his own drawbacks.

"I am too slow? That's why I lost. I wanted to resist your control but I keep struggling with you being---on top. Mmm, you're giving me a lot to think about. About how to stop you from exploiting my 'lack of mastery'."

Senji trailed off after to consider how to approach surviving Madeline....but that is to be picked up at another time.

END OF PART 1