L.A.W. - League of Anime Wrestling

The beach is bathed in brilliant light, dappled with the occasional fluffy cloud passing before the gleaming golden sun. The waters are calm, gently rolling in their glittery glory with low waves. The sand is toasty warm and invitingly soft, pock-marked with footprints scattered here and there, testament to the numerous denizens of Japan's taking full advantage of its expansive coastline on a fine Summer day. Colorful umbrellas sprout like clusters of mushrooms, providing shade where palm trees are more scarce, and the stray volleyball nets are almost never lacking for enthusiastic participants.

It's a perfect, idyllic day to spend on the beach. Seagulls are minding their business. Tourists are snapping photos. Locals are gathered with families and friends, some to grill, others to swim. And somewhere near the corner of the beach, an

drifts along the breeze. The notes alternate between a calm, strumming beat and wistfully rolling, melodious bridges.

The source is a Japanese girl reclined back on a cushioned lounge chair. Her silky blue-black hair shows signs of having been in the water already at some point today, lying a little flatter than the volume its dry tresses would normally boast. Her trim, slender body is covered in a mix of beach and streetwear, from the shimmery scale-like bikini top snug against the modest curvature of her breasts to the hip-hugging denim short shorts, leaving much of her unblemished and smooth skin bare. A pair of shades rests over her otherwise brilliant emerald eyes, presently cast upon the horizon, and a relaxed smile plays on her lips. A black guitar rests astride her lap, fingers moving with a mindless ease along the frets and slightly unusual globular body of the instrument. An unremarkable beige umbrella casts a shadow over her, and the guitar's case rests shut upon a broad, vividly magenta-hued beach towel on the sand beside her.

This is how Katsumi Oshiro has chosen to spend her day.

Beachin' Out.

A soft whistle begins to cover the vocal melody of the tune she's playing as she strums.

But like any VH1 Behind the Music special, the good times were not to last.

A trio of heavy shadows add to the murk of her umbrella's shade. Three middle-aged men have decided to try their luck in the worst way possible: well-liquored, and with zero self-awareness. They each have a little swagger in their step, courtesy of the case of lite beer presently unattended at their grill further down the beach.

"Hey, hey, we got a bet. The bet is!" Wobble. "Which one of us is gonna take you home!"

Katsumi's smile is gone, and the whistling has stopped. But the strumming of the guitar continues. "Go away, boys. You don't want this smoke."

"What do you weigh!?," demands another of the probably-not-gentlemen. The question earns a twitch of Katsumi's right eye. "Cuz I bet one of us weighs twice as much as you! And you're talkin' so tough!"

"Yeah! Why don't you look at us!," demands the third. "We're good guys, we just like to party! And we got this bet! So who's it gonna be, huh!?"

"You jerks..," Katsumi mutters, the strumming growing a little harsher. "Don't got a clue who I am, just runnin' your mouths. I'm tryin' to be good, just-- keep walkin'-- AH!"

The strumming abruptly halts with a CHONK of noise as the guitar is snatched out of her hands by the first bloke. "Quit playin' or I'll break it! Pay attention to us!"

Katsumi is instantly on her feet, eyes wide in a strange mixture of anger and visceral fear. "N-nonono, don't, d-don't do that!," she says, hands raised. "Give it back!"

"Now we have her attention. Hey! Hey, Souta, you think she'll still want it soaked in beer? Hahaha!"

"Don't!" Her voice is pitchy, wavering between pleading and fury. Her feet are frozen to the sand, every muscle in her frame tense and rigid, with the tension of someone trying to negotiate a hostage release with a supervillain.

It was an idyllic summer day to say the least. The sun was beating down in such a pleasant fashion that Belinda had decided fully to make use of it. Though she had originally not come to the beach for a fun time, her original purpose was to run a few laps on the beach...however the scenery, the atmosphere and the weather had coaxed her to spend her time afterwards lounging. She was rather thankful that she had packed her bikini for such an occasion.

She'd already taken a dip, her skin still had a slight shimmer thanks to the salt from the sea which had mostly dried. Her short hair a bit unkempt after drying off...her toned and well trained body, especially her abs were on display as she wore that white two piece bikini of hers. Accented with red, and black strings...it certainly didn't leave a lot to the imagination. She had lounged...she had started to develop a slight tan. This truly had been a good day so far, she'd even picked up a drink from the vending machines, upon her journey there she had a yellow flannel shirt draped over her shoulders and arms, but left unbuttoned. The drink she had procured from the vending machine was a Pocari Sweat...she didn't really have any particular reason for her drink choice, it had simply become a habit of sorts to get a Pocari sweat if the vending machine allowed for it. Now she was making her way back to her spot...she wondered if the Japanese cutie she passed by on her way to get her beverage was still playing. It had been quite a pleasant tune to accompany such a good day. Though she hadn't paid her much attention other than the strumming of the guitar that simply elevated the mood!

Spoiler

Though upon her return journey, her mood turned a bit sour. The sight she saw was three rather loud and obnoxious guys, seemingly harassing the beautiful musician. She saw how that guitar had been snatched out of her hands and the tone in the pleading woman, seemed somewhere in between begging to spare her guitar or spare their own lives the fury they would face.

The blonde would release a loud sigh. She stepped up behind the man holding the guitar, her movements were so practised and smooth that they seemed like breathing, as she slung her arm up and trapped the man in a half-nelson hold. He panicked, and his grip on the guitar was certainly weakened to the point where Katsumi could easily snatch it back.

If she did, then Belinda would turn him around so he was facing his friends before giving him a firm shove towards them as she released her hold. Causing a small collision between the Tipsy trio!

"Hey guys, how about we don't harass the pretty musician. She's got better things to do than waste time on you lot." Belinda's focus still mostly remained on the guys, just in case they would try anything. It was always risky when people had too much to drink and were acting in a pack like this. Though she was ready to put them down if she had to...though she'd of course try to do so without hurting them.

"She's scaaared," drawls one of the men. "You wanna make a deal? Pick one of us and we give it back!"

"Yeah!," chimes the one now identified as Souta, raising the guitar hostage.

"Yeah!," adds the third.

Katsumi stands rigid, fretful, anger boiling inside her. It's rare she gets this worked up without a way to let it out or vent her frustrations, but in this particular situation, what could she do? They have her baby! They're demanding she suffer an indignity like this, to debase herself, just to not damage something precious to her!

"Whuh!" Souta's caught, and Belinda will instantly realize she's having to do most of the legwork in keeping him upright when she, shall we say, manually re-balances him.

The sudden shift in the atmosphere has all eyes on the blonde, including Katsumi's. But the latter doesn't even take the time to process what's happening before springing forward and snatching the guitar back. She spins away from the small crowd, hugging the instrument to her chest a moment as if comforting it - or more likely, comforting herself with its safe return - before leaning down to set it on the lounge again.

Belinda bowls Souta into his comrades, and they fumble haplessly trying to catch him. One of them it knocked fully off-balance and plops clumsily onto the sand. The other manages to stabilize Souta, and now their full focus is on the toned blonde.

"Ooh, look at this!," announces the standing drunk. "We got a gaijin!"

"This one's - hic! - even prettier'en the other one!," announces Souta with a wobble. "Now we got two!"

The non-Souta drunk swaggers his way closer to Belinda with a crooked, unfocused smile and reaches to put an arm around her shoulders. "Why don't you come back with--"

"AAHH!"

This is not a scream. This is not a cry. This is a bellow. A barbarian yawp, condensing so much outrage and frustration into a single vocal blast. It's enough to turn Souta curiously to spot the Japanese girl they'd seemed to have forgotten about. He blinks unevenly as he struggles to process the fact that she's lunging at him.

Katsumi's left arm wraps his neck from the front, and her slender body whirls with momentum to his back, swapping to the right arm. When her feet plant, her hip leverages against his back and the motion guides him forcefully into the air. Forcefully and vertically. When the plume of sand settles, it's clear that the slingblade maneuver has planted Souta directly into the fluffy grit, with his feet sticking up in the air. Twitching.

"Why don't you soak that in your stupid pisswater!?," the punkette fumes, vivid green eyes blazing. "And she is not prettier!" The emphasis is punctuated with a baleful stomp between those waving legs.

The other man stares dumbfounded at the spectacle, possibly with one arm still reaching towards Belinda.

The third seems to remember how to move, and scrambles in a panic to try to pull Souta out of the sand.

While not really one to want to hurt civilians by any means, these drunks were really putting Belinda in a bad mood. She found herself trying to resolve things more or less peacefully at first, well....as peaceful as a half-nelson and a shove into ones friends could be seen. The second that they caught eye on her though the blonde would visibly cringe in disapproval at them.

The usual reaction she got from these type of folks had caused her mood to drop from bad to worse. She started to feel like she could relate to why her older sister got into so many fights. She didn't really like that feeling. She was about to simply bark orders at them to leave....but the actions of the raven haired musician stopped her, the surprise her jumping up and hitting a rather beautifully executed slingblade had Belinda a bit stunned.

Stunned enough that she didn't even realize that one of them was reaching out for her. The second his hand grabbed at her shoulder the blonde acted almost out of instinct. One arm shot in under his leg and the other over his head and neck. Looped up, she plucked him from the ground with such ease that he seemed almost weightless, before she threw him backwards with a lighting fast Fisherman's suplex! He was slammed hard into the sand which was kicked up in a small cloud of dust.

Belinda scrambled up to her feet, bringing her right hand up to the side of her head as she would run her fingers through her short hair.

"Ah dammit...I really didn't want to have to get violent here."

Turning to the third guy, the would bring her right hand as a fist to her left and crack her knuckles. "I guess we have one left?....maybe don't argue who's prettier with the drunkars? Haha..." She'd say as she turned her gaze towards Katsumi, giving a joking comments to the pretty musician. It seemed clear to Belinda that this girl had wrestling experience, in fact she could have sworn she had seen her before. Though right now that wasn't something to focus on...she exchanged a glance with her as if she had an idea of a move to pull. Perhaps a way to enact just a little bit of punishment on these rowdy boys. The blonde decided to duck in, a fast lunge forward on the last guy as she aimed to pluck him up into the air in what almost seemed like a bearhug, however her knees were bent keeping him at the perfect height for someone to leap up and nail him with a lariat take down. Basically setting up for a potential - Hart Attack tag move!

Things had certainly taken a turn for the drunks, but it's questionable whether or not they'd even remember it tomorrow. These fellas are absolutely wasted. Their reaction speed is demonstrably sluggish, they have no filter, and their processing is best described as Windows 95.

Katsumi, on the other hand, is far too incensed at this point to have regrets. They touched her guitar. They threatened her guitar. And they called another girl prettier, right in front of her! The shamelessness of it demanded punishment! And the pinched scowl on her otherwise pixie features would suggest she's still in a mood about it. The third fella who's now trying to dislodge his buddy out of the sand has taken notice, and has redoubled his efforts.

Belinda, however, steals her attention with sudden movement. The man next to her is loaded up, and with a startled yell, brought down into the sand in a heap, issuing a dramatic plume of grit into the air. He is not getting up again.

"Hah!"

Katsumi straightens her posture, left fist propped to her hip, shoulders back, the annoyance replaced with smug amusement. "Looks like she's not into it, either!"

With a soft 'puff', Souta is finally extracted from the sand. But as soon as he's freed, he finds himself grappled by the blonde! "Whooaa! Woo!" He's too drunk to realize anything that's happening other than the idea that a girl in a bikini is hugging onto him. He's into it. Katsumi, on the other hand, sees an opportunity. Never has the girl actually been in a tag team match before, but when someone is at an elevated angle, tipped just right, and her blood is already running hot, an almost felid instinct takes over. She has to pounce.

The girl rushes the couple steps forward, silky hair flaring out behind her. She springs upwards, but not to deliver a lariat. With her back turned to them both, she reaches up to catch the man around the head over her shoulder. Katsumi kicks her legs out, turning her body flat as she plummets to the sand again, directing the man - and likely Belinda as well - to drop. But unlike Belinda, who would just meet a softly sandy surface, the man's jaw will find Katsumi's shoulder at the end of the assisted high angle cutter!

The man recoils briefly before flopping facedown into silence. Thus, all three drunkards, swirly-eyed and dazed on the beach.

Katsumi tucks her knees close to her chest, rocking her balance back onto her shoulders before nipping up neatly to her feet again. Her waist bends to the side, letting her hair fall together neatly to begin shaking the sand out of it. But as if realization had suddenly returned to her, she freezes, eyes wide. The punkette wheels around quickly to face Belinda again. Her gaze roams over her, taking everything in: the blonde hair with the silly little ahoge doodle sticking out, the striking red eyes, fair skin, the curvature of her body wrapped in that white and red bikini, the sleek definition of her abdominals, long, smooth legs...

The vivid green eyes zip back up to her face. Now that the commotion has settled, Katsumi does, in fact, recognize her. But most importantly, she recognizes what she did for her. Her hands link together before herself in an uncertain fidget, her lips working to speak, but no sound coming out. What does she say? What could she say? Conflicting pulls urge her to be aloof and her normal impish self, and simultaneously show something more genuine and vulnerable. Ultimately, the latter wins: because Belinda did something very important for her, even if she doesn't know it.

The girl suddenly dips forward into a deep formal bow, bending at the waist. Her hair falls over her right shoulder.

"Thanks. A lot. For, um.. for helping." This position is so alien to her, she's struggling to land on the right words. Worse yet, it likely shows. Of note, however, she's now speaking in English. Her accent is perhaps shockingly natural; some noticeable West Coast influence, right at home in an upper-class Californian suburb. "If they'd done anything--..."

Her gaze half-lids, staring down at her toes in the sand.

"...thanks. I mean it."

She tilts her head a little deeper.