Daishouri vs Yutani Oshima(D) - Legacies Anew

[DropKix]

Yutani’s posture remained unyielding, a statue of menace as she watched Daishouri’s desperate attempts to regain composure. There was no joy in it, no satisfaction in witnessing her opponent struggle. This was simply how the world worked, how it had always worked. The weak, the lesser, the unworthy - fate would bend them, and all the will in the world could not save them from the inevitable.

Daishouri's determination to rise was admirable, but misguided. The sound of her exertion, the strained rasp in her voice, only amplified the distance between them. Yutani's eyes narrowed, her brow hardly shifting as her opponent began to scramble, pushing herself up to her knees in a clumsy, frantic attempt to stand. The Shoguness was already there, her body coiled like the strike of a serpent, ready to strike without mercy.

But instead, Yutani simply observed. Watched with unflinching resolve as Daishouri’s hands pressed into the canvas, her knees trembling beneath her, every ounce of her strength spent in the futile hope of standing. And as she rose, there came the sharp, violent sound of her leg buckling beneath Yutani’s attack. The noise was as satisfying as the brief, sharp intake of breath Daishouri took, the prelude to her inevitable fall.

A sigh.

“Foolish.” Yutani’s voice was a whisper, yet it carried the weight of centuries of history. The disdain was palpable, yet there was a cold pity buried beneath it. It wasn’t enough to just defeat Daishouri—no, it had to be done in a way that ensured her realization of her inferiority. Of her place in the world.

As Daishouri dropped to all fours before her, unable to hide the throbbing agony in her knee, Yutani’s lips twitched upward in a cold, disdainful smile. The woman had guts, that much was clear. But no amount of effort could overcome the gap between them.

“You still do not understand, do you?” Yutani’s words came softly, almost pityingly, as her opponent fought through the pain, attempting to rise, to push forward against the wave of defeat crashing over her. “You believe that ‘more’ is something you can give. But what you offer is nothing compared to what I am. No matter how much you fight, how much you scramble… you will only falter beneath -

The strike was as fast as it was unexpected, catching the Shoguness in the midst of her regal rant. Daishouri’s leg shot out in a desperate sweep, and before Yutani could fully process what was happening, the impact was made. A sharp crack against her shin. The world seemed to slow, her body failing to react quickly enough to the unexpected maneuver.

“What—” Yutani’s eyes flashed wide for a brief second, but that moment was all it took. The force of the sweep, combined with the weight of the collision, sent Yutani off-balance. Her feet slid out from under her, her body crashing to the canvas with an unexpected thud. For a split second, the ring seemed to hold its breath as Yutani found herself on the mat, stunned and splayed out by the rare miscalculation!

[Monsy]

To what Daishouri now knew, this woman viewed as nearly two separate classes of people. That much was obvious—and when she pictured it further, she felt the twinge of something very visceral—a candid belief amidst all this. Feudal, between noble and lesser. She low rested on the totem pole, serving their whim even if she could match even a percentage of a real samurai. And yet—

Yutani fell. Daishouri's eyes biggened in what was a thumping praise of dopamine hitting her fingers, making them sweat as she was equally unnerved.

( Did... I actually get her? )
( Gottamove-gottamove-gottamove. )

Daishouri used her opportunistic position to reach and snatch one of Yutani's ankles, lifting it and enveloping with an arm to stuff right to her pit and ribcage. She stood up, taking it with her. "Whichever way this goes, Oshima-san, I'll make you work for it. You'll—" Something inside her wanted to say 'you'll limp for underestimating me' — but she couldn't. Her lower lip shriveled tight, feeling nasty and guilty for such a concept. This was a legend. Nevertheless, they deserved to bask in the sun they spent years cultivating.

So, Daishouri got on with it, falling backwards if no counter came and spiking Yutani's ankle into the mat for the ankle DDT!

[DropKix]

It was hardly the worst she’d endured. Not by a long stretch. But it was startling nonetheless.

And yet her mind reeled with the sheer audacity of it. She, the architect of war, the matriarch of devastation, had been swept off her feet by a slip of a girl. Nimble, desperate, burning bright, but still just a mere flickering candle before the firestorm that was the Shoguness. The air hissed through her teeth as the shock turned to anger. A deep, howling anger. Her hand clenched into the canvas, the muscles in her back already twitching with the instinct to rise, to correct this affront. To plant Daishouri's face into the earth and remind her—remind everyone—that no spark could survive the blaze of a dynasty reborn.

But before she could move, before fury could fuel retaliation, her leg was snatched.

"You insolent little - DON’T YOU DARE!"

Her ankle was suddenly lifted, tucked tight beneath Daishouri’s arm, the limb bent cruelly against the former’s side. The moment barely registered before the weight shifted, and Yutani’s world was jolted yet again... WHAM!

"AAARGH!"

A sharp, brutal snap of sensation seared up her leg as her ankle was spiked into the mat. The canvas groaned under the impact, and so did Yutani, breath escaping her lips in a tight, gritted exhale as her torso jerked up before slamming back down. Agony radiated from her foot to her knee, lightning-hot and pulsing, a ragged burn in every nerve ending as her eyes seethed even hotter with livid fury and pain!

[Monsy]

When Daishouri witnessed such a face, she...

...Felt like she understood the term of divine wrath a bit better now. Manifest. As Daishouri sat on her bum after the spike, the way Yutani thrashed made her toes curl inside her boots. Her throat felt heavier just seeing such anger--she didn't have a reference. Her mouth went dry, but she still had her instincts intact above the rest. Something calling her forward, absent of conscious emotion lest she be paralyzed. An almost innate drive would be the only way to put it.

Steadily, she went over to all fours, put a knee down, then reached forward to grab the same ankle she spiked, then tucked it into her pit like before. If that worked, then Daishouri would form a noose around the achilles from here, then rise to her feet. Her stare would be steely, but unsteady with tension. “B-Believe me.” She said in response to DARE. “I am daring.” Yutani’s limb was then squeezed. A bit of grit packed into her tightening bicep. “And this is just the start.”

A second hand applied over Yutani’s knee to secure it. She needed to slow Yutani done, so this became her chosen limb. Every second had to be put to use working it. From the outside, near Yutani’s hip, Daishouri lifted her leg, heaved up Yutani's own, and tried to start the attempt of turning the Shogunness over towards a single-leg Boston Crab!

[DropKix]

The pain had barely finished blooming across her ankle when she felt it Daishouri's fingers closing in again. Yutani’s breath hissed between clenched teeth as her vision swam with red as her young rival reach for the same limb she'd already wounded.. Her body jerked once, instinctively trying to recoil, but the damage was done. The pain from the DDT had flared into something raw and pulsing, her calf twitching violently as her foot was captured and tucked beneath her opponent’s arm.

There was no grace, no mastery, just pure grit. It was effective. Brutal in its simplicity. Yutani could feel the hold sinking in as her body was forcibly twisted, her leg stretched out and drawn backward. A hand was pressed just above her knee, locking her in place, wrenching her backward, limb first, toward the sky. Her spine arched with the torque, and then—

"RRRGH—!!"

The scream ripped from her throat, unrefined and primal, as her back bent into the canvas and the single-leg Boston Crab cinched in fully.

Muscles flared across her shoulders. Her arms pounded the mat once, not in surrender, but out of sheer rage. Her fingers curled into claws, dragging uselessly at the canvas as she tried to stabilize herself, even as the pain gnawed its way up from her ankle through her hamstring and into her lower back. Her teeth bared in a vicious snarl as the pressure increased. The crowd roared, sensing the impossible. The Shoguness was caught, strained beneath a younger and lighter woman’s grip! But Yutani’s fury burned brighter than the pain. Her voice returned, not in anguish, but in anger.

“You will learn… girl...” she growled through clenched teeth, sweat rolling down her brow, “how a warrior endures.”

Her fingers dug harder into the mat, dragging herself, inch by agonizing inch, toward the ropes. The strain was visible in every movement, in every ripple of her frame, her body bending like tempered steel under the hold. The ropes were still far, but they were getting closer, and it wouldn't be long before the indominable perserverence of the Shoguness would overpower her lithe foe. And when she was close enough, the Shoguness lunged, thrusting her hand forward, fingers outstretched, grasping blindly, hungrily for the bottom rope.

One touch was all she needed to demand her release.

And Yutani Oshima always got what she demanded.

[Monsy]

Daishouri had grit her teeth. She got them, and the feeling was something surreal. The arrested limb was harder to wield. Tugs weren't so easily defended. She'd match flinch for forced clinch when Yutani moved. Her teeth grit, eyelids wrinkled as she scrunched, and her teeth gnashed. Her boots perched against the mat, her seat right on the upper-middle part of their spine, then she careened back.

But inch by inch, Yutani moved. Daishouri tried to put her knee down on the mat and use her size and grip to stop. But even then, Yutani gained a bit more ground through it. Escape became more inevitable. She was right there by her optics. And this made Daishouri pant with worry. The reprisal that sit on the other end would be brutal if she gained control now. 'How a warrior endures' registered a thought like a manic slayer, fuelled by grit and pain, slaying whatever they came across. And given this was a Shogunness, Daishouri had a flushed face just thinking about it.

So when she saw that hand reach out, Daishouri released the leg and lunged. She dived so she'd land on-top of Yutani's back. One arm tried to reach, then coil around Yutani's neck in a flimsy rear-naked choke, then her second reached out to desperately grab at their fingers as a leverage to attempt to pull their hand away from the ropes. The only problem was: she had no idea if she could.

[DropKix]

The Shoguness had nearly grasped the rope. Her fingertips brushed against it, rough corded salvation just within reach. One more inch and she could have halted the surge of momentum Daishouri had stolen. But instead, something crashed down onto her back.

The impact knocked the breath from Yutani’s lungs, her ribcage compressing beneath Daishouri’s sudden, unsteady weight. An arm slipped clumsily around her neck, not quite a choke, but enough to grind against her windpipe. And worse, her hand was seized and pulled back, fingers splayed helplessly beneath Daishouri’s grip. For a split second, there was silence behind her clenched teeth. Then, a low growl began to rise in her throat.

It wasn’t the hold that set her off. Nor the pressure. It was the sheer gall of it.

This girl, all shaking, wide-eyed, and still wet behind the ears, had the temerity to climb onto her back and drag her hand from the ropes. To cling to her like some triumphant beast after a kill. It was more than insolence, it was blasphemy!

Yutani’s face twisted into something far less regal, her fury starting to churn deep beneath her breastbone. Even trapped beneath the weight of Daishouri’s limbs, there was strength still coiled in her core, in her shoulders, and in the fury swelling inside her chest. Her fingers clawed again toward the rope, this time with more force and less grace. She lunged forward with the kind of violent grit she rarely had to show, and this time, her hand didn’t miss. It clamped down firmly on the bottom rope with the sound of canvas creaking beneath it, a clean signal to the referee.

“Rope!” the official barked, moving in to initiate the break.

[Monsy]

She arrested Yutani's neck and that was a victory. This move, to her estimate, is a fatal one if applied for long enough with correct technique. All she needed now was time. Daishouri's face scrunched as her head turned, pressed into the back of Yutani's head like a wedge to squeeze their throat the tightest one could muster. She held her breath, rolled her lips in, then felt her neck tent from the self-induced pressure. Her back arched up, dragging her hips higher up their body to make it harder to move. Again and again, she'd repeat the phrase for the pending resistance.

Don't let go, me. Whatever you do, don't let her go. And the crowds looked on and felt both of their struggles. Their eyes gripped into the small details of every inch and struggle. The Samurai lost her face of composure to appear truly desperate for a victory. But without fail, the Shogun overcame. The call for the rope released everything locked in Daishouri's maw, exhaling sharply and having a mild pant. Her eyes darted up to confirm the call the referee made. "Hai, yes." And just as quick as she applied this pressure, it all released, her arms unfurled and her weight unseated, rolling to the side.

On a knee with one hand touching the mat, Daishouri looked ahead at the Shogunness. Her recovery would be swift, no doubt. For better or worse, Daishouri stood and backed up two paces, allowing space to be formed just outside their reach. "You said how a warrior endures, Oshima-san?" During her words, Daishouri slid into a ready Taekwondo stance. "I'd like to know more about that--so you'll push me to my limits, right?"