L.A.W. - League of Anime Wrestling

Point blank, face to face. Close enough that Katsumi's forced exhalation blew back on the hanging gold streak in Shion's hair.

Close enough that Shion got to watch all that defiance sent packing. It was the kind of show that demanded she go full throttle and not let up!

Shion no longer had her hand on Katsumi's collar to stop her from doubling over from the knee strike, but she wasn't about to let that arm pull back if she could help it. She moved to transfer the grip to her left hand as she stepped around it to the soft-princess' side, only stopping once she had her hip firmly against Katsumi's ribs, and that arm trapped against the biker's body. Then her right hand reached for a handful of that ebon hair to yank the woman's head back.

"Exactly. Opposite of the turtle's tough shell. So-f-t." Shion said, emphasizing the syllables of the English loanword in her Japanese as she leaned down to speak into Katsumi's ear. She wasn't the only one that could engage in some trolling, after all.

She noticed the stripes and flailing arms of the referee girl coming to yell at her about the hair grab, so she turned to pull the punkette with her by head and arm. "Ah, screw it, Princess. Let's go for a ride!"

Shion turned again, in an effort to spin Katsumi around her before taking two steps forward and leaping, aiming to slam the woman chest-first into the mat in a crude and unorthodox bulldog!

Katsumi needed a moment to catch her breath again, and for her abdominals to manually unclench from the impact. "Nngh." But a moment wasn't something she was going to get. Silky blueblack tresses are seized, and with a weak, "Aahn!," her head is reared back. The audience is treated to Katsumi's pained expression, a grimace at first. It breaks only as her eyes open to turn sidelong to Shion's face, her free hand reaching back to uselessly paw at the offending grip in her hair.

This is where her makeover sucks. Too much hair. Too easy to bury a hand in it. She can't manually pull the hand away without yanking her own hair in the process!

"S-screw you!," she sputters in English, the suburban Californian accent in full swing. It's all she can say in the brief amount of time that she has, her mind fully away from the encroaching referee.

Manually turned over, Katsumi's head is buried beneath Shion's arm. Her free arm reaches, trying to stabilize herself with fingers scrambling at Shion's bare waist, but it's no avail fast enough. They take two forced steps forward, she finds the mat leaving her gold-soled boots, and--

WHAM.

"Uah!"

The ring shudders beneath their combined impact. Katsumi's perky breasts are crushed against the ring, driving her breath out. The girl isn't particularly well-endowed when compared to others in the roster - she can puzzle out whether or not that's a blessing later. If it might've hurt worse if she had more to impact, or if it might've helped. Who the Hell knows. All that's running through her mind is a need to breathe again, and with that comes an attempt to pull herself to the side just to roll over onto her back. One arm lying sprawled on the mat to her side, the other arm protectively crossing her bralet, lets laying splayed, and back arched upwards slightly.

A dazed groan escapes the Punk Princess - frustrated and pained.