STANDARD MATCH
Winner determined by Pinfall, Submission, or Knockout
Opportunity was a funny thing.
One moment it promised international acclaim. Chances to travel the world and see all sorts of places, meet all sorts of people. Sparking curiosity to where one might find themselves next. The next it was putting one right back to throwing down against another punk from Osaka. The more things change...
It didn't bother Shion in the slightest. She was here to do what she loved, no matter who was thrown up against her! Entrance Music
The naturally unhinged look to her eyes returned with the cocky grin as she took long, confident strides onto the stage. Shion took a moment to gaze over the jeering crowd; entering first meant she didn't have her opponent to lock onto instantly. The energy seemed to only make her grin wider as she pushed off again, not even breaking stride as she thrust a fist flipping the bird into the face of a particularly aggressive "fan".
LIVING TO BURN BRIGHT
SPEEDING AHEAD OF THE PAST
SEE THE SPARKS FLY HIGH
Taking that extra moment meant she actually noticed the announcer's voice this time. It's amazing what tunnel vision can do to one's perception otherwise.
"Making her way to the ring, at a height of five feet, nine inches.. and weighing in at one hundred forty one pounds! The Bosozoku Bomber, SHIIOOOOOON AAAAKAHOOOOOSHIII!!"
With one bold leap Shion went from ringside to the apron, then grabbed the top rope to hop over into the ring with just enough flourish to allow her longcoat to billow behind her. She landed with arms out, hands gesturing to tell the crowd to keep it coming before finally pulling the coat off and hanging it up over the cornerpost. Wrestling Attire
Nothing left from there but to wait for for the opponent. "Punk Princess".. Shion wasn't familiar with her, but that wasn't surprising. Osaka ain't a small place, and wrestling wasn't on Shion's radar until she stumbled into it. She'd find out soon enough if the woman was actually tough or just pretended to be for show. Seconds of physical contact would tell more than hours of study and theory...
Meanwhile, in gorilla position, the aforementioned Punk Princess is bouncing from foot to foot, her head canted and bright green eyes affixed to the floor before her. She's listening to the music, listening to the crowd reacting to the newer chick, mentally prepping herself.
Bosozoku Bomber. Sounds like she's going to be street. Probably a striker. Possibly with some shades of how she used to roll; reckless abandon, wild. That could be interesting. Entertaining for the viewers, for sure. But if that is what she's bringing to the table, the most interested party is Katsumi herself - getting a firsthand look at how her newer edge in training contrasts with how she used to be.
And if not? Well, she'll adapt. Who cares. Makes no difference, she needs to keep her eyes forward. Her focus ahead. Her--
The music ending brings Katsumi's attention snapping straight ahead, interrupting her train of thought.
The lights in the stadium dim low. Then the first thick, reverberating chords of
begin thumping. In tandem, emerald green laserlights begin dancing along the walkway. Her logo appears against the dark night visual, the music swells...
And Katsumi makes her appearance, rushing out into a wave of mixed praise and jeers as spotlights converge upon her and bursts of amethyst cold sparks erupt at her flanks. The volume beats against her slender body as her arms raise, basking in both extremes of the emotional temperature alike, her head tipped back and smiling. A few seconds later and she looks ahead again, quickly fixing her focus on her future opponent in the ring.
That broad smile turns sharky. Confident and predatory. She angles her left arm forward, suddenly pointing her out; an unnecessary callout, but theatric in its delivery with clear messaging. Then she's off! It's a pert sashay of the hips coupled with an aloof air, both hands raised with palms turned out to either side of the railing, both acknowledging and simultaneously dismissing the raucous voices crashing against her in waves. Strut, strut~
"And her opponent!," continues the announcer. "Coming in at a height of five feet, seven inches! And weighing in at one hundred and twenty-four pounds!"
"From Osaka, Japan!"
"The Punk Princess, herself!"
"KATSUMIIIIII! OOOSHIIIIROOOO!"
Upon reaching the ring apron, she grabs onto the middle rope and smoothly swings her body up and onto the edge of the ring with a whirl, ending with her back against the ropes and facing out over the audience she'd just passed. Her right fist is presented forward. The left fist begins to crank beside it. Gradually, a middle finger is produced.
These people are getting double birds tonight. What a treat.
"Muah," she air-kisses.
Both camps of the audience boil harder, half with scorn at the sheer lack of respect and dignity, the other half loving her for her brand of irreverence and puckishness. Both sides know her very well at this point. Both sides are deeply set in their opinions on her. They've seen her at her best, they've seen her at her worst.
The svelte punkette arches over the top rope and gracefully rolls herself up and over to land on her gold-accented boots again. She races up the next, unoccupied turnbuckle, rapid footfalls ascending the ropes until she's standing poised over the until-now neglected side of the audience. She throws her arms wide, presenting herself to the roaring crowd.
"YEAH! COME ON!," she shouts, her voice practically drowned out amidst the chaos.
At last, she hops down with a prim little spin and makes her way to her designated corner. She sheds her jacket, dropping it just outside the ropes for safekeeping, leaving her sleek figure open to the air. Then she turns, draping her arms along the top ropes at either side, her shoulders leaned back against the corner post while the referee-girl inspects her for foreign objects. Ready in the ring...
Her gaze has once again landed on her opponent across from her, and that smile returned. For once, she isn't saying anything to her. She's just... taking her in. Her look, her presence, her demeanor, her attitude.
Last edited by CyanDimitrik on Thu Jul 02, 2026 12:08 am, edited 1 time in total.
If nothing else, the Punk Princess knew how to put on show. From the high production entrance to the clearly practiced posing and the crowd's knowing reaction, it was obvious that Katsumi had been at this for a little while. Cute and athletic to boot, but that seemed to be no surprise in what she'd seen of LAW so far.
None of that meant a whole lot on its own to Shion. Actually learning from experience was never a guarantee, and even among the skilled there were no shortage of people who hit a level and got hella complacent as a result. Not that she could just assume any of that was going to be true here- this wasn't the fucking indie circuits anymore.
The biggest surprise, however, was the silence. No prepared trash talk. No callouts or taunts. An instant that seemed to linger just a little too long, burning gazes locked from two women presenting a lot of teeth instead of words. Green eyes that were watching her way too closely, and way too damn calm about it. Studying.
Well, shit. Guess she may be the real deal after all.
The estimation only excited Shion further. She really wanted to be right on this one. Going anything but all-in was never an option, but doing so against someone on the same wavelength? That had a potential that outsiders wouldn't understand.
The ref barely existed in the moment as she finished up checking Katsumi's gear, an obstacle in the damn way of what was to come rather than its facilitator. Shion's fists clenched.. and then harder still.
Fuck it. One can only wait so long!
Punk Princess, here I come!
The instant the ref started to pull back, the ring shook with the sound of Shion's heavy boots crashing across the ring, thumping in time with the pounding in her chest as she charged forward on the attack with that crazed look in her eyes!
"LET'S GOOO!!!"
She aimed to meet Katsumi head on, hoping to lock up with her and use that momentum to give a knee lift to the woman's torso in greeting. If she disappointed her by staying in that damn corner? Then it'd be a flying knee instead with intent of keeping her there. Either way, whoever was on the bell would be struggling to keep up!
Studying. Assessing. There's a lot more fire and wilderness in that gaze than she'd expect. Some of these chicks, they wear a marketing gimmick like a Spirit Halloween costume. All fancy, all flowery, no genuine connection to it. It's why she never picked hers - the audience did. She entered the ring, did what she does, and got labeled for it.
Granted, Katsumi is still convinced the 'Princess' part is because she's like royalty or something. In reality, it's because the punky upstart was cute and had some incidentally girlish tendencies. But, details!
The point is, she lives that life! And maybe, juuust maybe, this Akahoshi chick does, t-
-oh wait, what the hell, she's charging.
If Katsumi were to count the number of times she has been rushed pre-bell, overthe multiple years she's been in the ring, it would still all be done on one hand. Hell, it would be done on one Simpson hand. She's the one who rushes! Not the other person!
In a brief flash of rare consideration for someone other than herself, Katsumi's left arm swats against the referee to shove her out of the way of the oncoming bullet. That cost her some seconds. She only manages to get a few steps out of the corner before Shion collides with her, and Katsumi fully means to meet her with a lockup. But she doesn't have the forward momentum of the other woman. She's bunted back, and with the knee colliding with her midsection, Katsumi is knocked back into the corner with a pained huff, her arms tossing back over the top ropes to either side.
In a panic, the referee-girl flails an arm to signal the starting bell! *DING!*
