L.A.W. - League of Anime Wrestling

Makie's chest is pumping air as she manages to kick out, flexing her hurting jaw still after taking the full force of Kazuya's brutal kick. A small part of her found that she hadn't minded the feeling of Kazuya's mostly bare body pressed down against hers, his heavy breath on her neck..it is a thought she quashes immediately, reminding herself of just how fucking insufferable Kazuya is.

He quickly proves to be even more insufferable, rolling Makie onto her front. Alarm bells blare in her mind far too late-- a second later Kazuya is on her back, hooking one of her legs back, stretching it painfully. A muffled cry of pain escapes her lips as she buries her face in the mat, her lower body being forced to arch painfully as Kazuya stretches her back...neither knowing nor caring how the move is causing her gym shorts to cling rather snugly to her athletic backside...

"In...your dreams!" she hisses, and without wasting a further breath, Makie dugs her elbows into the mat and begins the long, torturous crawl towards the ropes...

Kazuya typically did his best to eliminate any and all distractions in his life that could encumber whatever his ultimate goals were at the time, and his initial thought process when it came to cinching on an abrasive Boston Crab onto the anguished Akamatsu sibling was merely a manner of earning some justified payback for Makie's ruthless application of her own submission earlier in the match. Except once locked on, he'd be a bold-faced liar if he said that certain distractions weren't arising already once gawking down at the caked wiggle of Makie's wedgied rump right there beneath him. Whatever the hell he was feeling right now earnestly reminded him of the occasional pleasantness felt whenever he'd become swathed atop the manic tomboy...but chalking it up to some kinda hallucination due to lack of water or something. Dictating the course of the match came first and foremost as he shuffled in lockstep alongside Makie crawling to her tethered salvation, cranking back her strained leg until the referee signaled for the break once she reached the bottom rope and his immediately releasing the submission. "Tch, yer one stubborn SOB, ya know that?..." Kazuya remarked as he reached for a handful of his adversary's spiky locks as a hefting clench back to her wobbly feet, hooking her arms over the top rope before attempting a searing knife-edge chop to her heaving jubblies...

Makie was moaning and grunting with agony and exertion now as she dug her elbows into the mat, slowly and agonizingly crawling towards the ropes. She was getting so close, so tantalizingly close...and then finally, her fingers snagged the rope. In an instant, the ref declared a rope break, and Makie gave a sigh of relief as the grip of the boston crab was relaxed.

Relief, however, proved to be short-lived, as Kazuya then grabbed a handful of her spiky locks. "Aaaah--!" she gasped as Kazuya pulled her up, draping her arms over the top ropes. By this point Makie had been giving a fair amount of exertion, Kazuya would have gotten a glimpse f her arms, arms and thighs all shining with a bit of perspiration..before his knife edge chop slammed home against her chest. She shrieked in pain and collapsed a little against the corner post, her chest wobbling visibly from the impact...

At this point in the match and, well if you could even classify this cantankerous butting of heads as a relationship, Kazuya didn't even waste his breath offering any more kudos than we already had in begrudging acknowledgement of Makie's resilience and fortitude. She'd probably just sling it right back at him in scathing resentment, therefore he congratulated her freedom from the submission with a thunder cracking thwack across her heaving bosom. Kazu taking a quick breath himself now that Makie was duly pacified, the feisty firecracker now docile enough for him to notice the shimmered moisture glistening from her wearied physique underneath the fluorescent lighting and jiggled sway of her fulsome pair post knife-edge chop...but Kazuya glowered and stayed focus. The Prize Fighter situating himself against Makie while clasping one of her hands before stepping backward into an Irish Whip across the ring. Flinging his adversary into the opposite turnbuckle where she'll be accompanied immediately afterward with Kazuya attempting to squash them together in a leaping corner body splash...

"Nnnmh..." Makie groaned softly as she sprawled in the corner, her chest pumping air as she was left breathless by Kazuya's knife edge chop. So far in this spar, the two fighters were perspiring a fair bit, and Makie's skin glistened a little under the ruddy lights of the arena-- a fact, though she knew it not, that Kazuya was quick to notice. As she reclined in the corner, Makie, in turn, couldn't help but notice the way Kazuya's own abs glittered with beads of sweat. Kazuya was a fit guy, this was not disputable, but for the briefest of seconds Makie found herself appreciating the guy's well-developed body. It was a thought she quashed almost immediately, but it distracted her enough that Kazuya was able to grab a hold of her arm.

Swearing under her breath, Makie ran to the turnbuckle, hearing Kazuya's footfalls coming after her. Instincts kicked in: she caught herself on the top ropes, and pushed off, spinning sideways to avoid whatever Kazuya had in store for her. Without wasting any movement, she would then clamber up the top rope, bracing herself against it.

Assuming Kazuya was still standing, she would leap off, aiming to latch her thighs around his head and take him down with her trademark hurricanrana!

Between Kazuya appreciating certain heaving curvatures and Makie snatching several stolen snapshots of a certain shredded physique, the official was about the only individual in the ring who was still keeping their head in the metaphorical game. Although even the referee was casting a cocked eyebrow at the simultaneous and obvious fixations the wrestlers had taken with eachother before Kazuya jostled his head out of his wayward stupor and regained his fighter's sensibilities. Wherever his carnal thought processes were trailing off towards when presented with a fatigued and sweat-swathed hurricane taking sweltered breaths...he had a distinct feeling it was gonna be more of a detrimental distraction when it comes to actually succeeding with his true intentions of becoming 2-0 against a heralded veteran in the business. Considering her ragged breaths, Kazuya assumed Makie wouldn't have the fortitude and wherewithal to circumvent being chucked across the ring into a sprint and smashed against the rugged physicality she was briefly admiring. Unfortunately, Kazuya only ended up being half right as he splashed into the corner turnbuckle and backpedaled with a hoarse cough and a hand over his bruised pecs. "HNG!!!...Motherf-" Kazuya's own swears were muffled out as a pair of smooth thighs clenched themselves around his head, a fleeting clench onto her backside as the prelude to the fighter being swirled around and sent into a spiraled launch back into the middle of the ring. A disoriented Kazu struggling to arise afterwards, grimacing through jumbled vision as he cradled the back of his spiky-haired head...