Catch a Tiger (For Blaze)

[CyanDimitrik]

Katsumi Oshiro is surprising herself lately. Why she did what she did in the ring, and especially with her, she couldn't say. It was so far removed from anything the Punk Princess has ever done in her wrestling career, and she's desperately hoping no one else in the stadium knew what was happening. It wasn't meant for them! The moment was so intoxicating, they wouldn't understand! It was just meant for her and the woman who'd been a jerk to her!

Either way, she had to shower. She had to shower. And her attire, she had to change out of that. And after a much longer-than-usual stare of disbelief in the mirror, she made arrangement. A message was sent to Bengal; an address. Knock six times. And after a moment of contemplation, she adds in to bring either spare wrestling gear or swimsuit. That'll be her call.

Fastforward, and Katsumi has made it back to her apartment. Small, modest, part of a much larger complex and situated on the third floor. But despite the humble appearance and size, it's meticulously organized with sound equipment, computer, and various musical instruments arranged at the far end of the main room and across the kitchenette. Katsumi lays back on her couch wearing a fluffy gray robe, one leg dangling off the side, staring up at the ceiling. Maybe Bengal won't even show up. That's a distinct possibility!

Her eyes start to slowly lid over, the fatigue and strain of the match starting to catch up to her...

[BengalTheBlazeTiger]

Bengal could have just ignored the message that she notices on her phone. It's already hours after the match, and she's just begun to recover from the beating she took in the ring tonight. She's already showered, using extra soap and scrubbing doubly hard, as if hoping it can wash away her loss. No such luck.

She could have just turned the device off and gone to bed alone, like she does practically every other night. Like the cats that she models her costume after, Bengal lives a mostly solitary life. And she has no obligation to follow Katsumi's demands, technically. She was defeated, yes, but the match hadn't been scheduled with POW rules. That was just something the Punk Princess had hissed into her ear, as Bengal lay dazed underneath her. Not official in any way...

But weaseling out of things like that isn't Bengal's style. At least, that's the way she decides to rationalize it, though her heart skips a beat upon seeing Katsumi's message. In truth, she doesn't want to refuse. But admitting that would mean admitting her interest. Admitting that a part of her enjoyed the way her opponent dominated her in the closing moments of their bout. Admitting...a lot of things.

She re-reads the message several times. A wrestling costume, or a swimsuit? The idea of wrestling another match right now makes Bengal's legs want to give out beneath her; she's already exhausted. Besides, her best costume is in the laundry now anyway. She does have a swimsuit, a simple dark orange two-piece with black trim - but the idea of carrying it into Katsumi's apartment makes her flush. In the end, she decides to wear it underneath her street clothes.

Before she leaves her hotel room, she dresses in nondescript black jeans, and a sweatshirt with the hood pulled up, to hide her cat-eared headband. She doesn't want to risk anyone recognizing her on her late-night stroll. She rides a bus to a stop near the address, then walks the rest of the way. She navigates the hallways of the large apartment complex, finding her way to the third floor. Finally, she finds herself outside the door of Katsumi's apartment. Bengal takes a deep breath, then knocks on the door six times. Each rap of her knuckles seems to match her heart, pounding in her chest. Knock-Knock. Knock-Knock. Knock-knock.

[CyanDimitrik]

No... she probably won't be following through. Why would she? What could she get out of it? Being bossed around when it wasn't even a stipulation. Who would do that? Tonight will just go down as a... very... unusual.... ...weird... ... ...blip... in her... history...


KNOCK KNOCK. KNOCK KNOCK. KNOCK KNOCK.

Katsumi's eyes snap open, staring up at the ceiling. At first, she isn't sure if she actually heard it. She had just dozed off - how long was she out? Did she hear it or did she dream it? Where is she right now? Wha-

Sitting up, Katsumi gives her head a quick shake to try to focus. She takes in her room, her couch, her- door! Swinging her legs around, Katsumi presses her bare feet to the carpet and pads her way over to the door. A few seconds to center herself mentally, and she pulls it open!

She does not recognize who's standing before her. Not at first.

"Emminem?"

Wait.

"Oh, oh. Duh. Yeah."

Recognizing Bengal's face under the hood, she pulls the door open more widely and steps aside. With a subtle jerk of her head, she scatters the silky tresses from her eyes while affecting an aloof demeanor. No, this isn't odd at all! Of course she expected Bengal to come to the apartment. She demanded it, after all! Whatever!

[BengalTheBlazeTiger]

Bengal steps into the apartment, taking a moment to get oriented with her surroundings. She's impressed by the modest, tasteful decor, and by the collection of instruments. I guess the "punk" gimmick isn't just about her attitude, she muses. There's sound-editing equipment too, and plenty of comfortable-looking furniture. As someone who's spent most of the past year traveling for matches, sleeping on buses or in roadside hotel rooms, Bengal can't help but feel a little jealous.

And then, of course, there's Katsumi, who quickly becomes the focus of her attention. The Japanese woman is immediately recognizable by her silky slate-colored hair and sparkling green eyes, but there's something different about her now, something that wasn't there in their match earlier. Maybe it's her flowing grey robe, or her more relaxed demeanor. She seems softer, more inviting - and even more heartbreakingly beautiful. Bengal immediately feels self-conscious, wishing she had worn something elegant too, instead of a non-descript sweatshirt. But she couldn't exactly walk into Katsumi's apartment in a nightgown! I showed up. That's all that matters, she reassures herself.

"You wanted me," she says, taking down the hood of her sweatshirt. Now that she's already in Katsumi's apartment, there's no more need for disguises. "So, here I am." She tries to sound nonchalant, and hopes she isn't putting too much emphasis on the "wanted". But her heart is still fluttering in her chest. She still isn't sure exactly what this POW match will be like. The indie leagues she's toured previously didn't have anything like this. Is she going to do something to me? She wonders. Or...make me do something? A thousand images are flashing through her mind. She tries to push them away and stay focused on Katsumi, on the present. I can't let myself get carried away.

[CyanDimitrik]

"Right. Um. Yeah. I did," says Katsumi, a little uncertain of her own tone. Should she be trying to play host? Or be assertive? Or- aahh, why is she overthinking this!? She turns her head aside, lifts a fist, and daintily coughs as an outward sign of an inward realigning of her sensibilities. And when she refocuses on Bengal, she leans forward and moves that hand to lightly press against the other woman's chest, intent on pressing her back against the door.

With gaze hooded and sly smile edging the corner of her lips, she notes, "You were a diiiick in the ring. But I won. And now you're mine." Nevermind the fact that that was never a part of the original arrangement, or that Bengal didn't in any way have to capitulate. These details just distract from the moment! "I want a couple things. First, I wanna see your real eyes." Those vibrant emeralds zero in on Bengal's felid contacts. "Then I want a name. I don't wanna call you Bengal all night. Unless your parents were really weird, there's something else you answer to."

If her hand has remained in place on Bengal's chest insofar, it now withdraws. Katsumi takes a step back, inviting her 'guest' to move freely again. Likely to remove the contacts somewhere with a mirror and soap.

[BengalTheBlazeTiger]

Real eyes? For a second, Bengal is confused by the demand. Then she realizes her mistake - in all her excitement over the message, she totally forgot to take out her tiger eye contacts! So much for keeping a low profile on the way over here. She flushes, mumbles some inaudible excuse, and ducks past Katsumi, headed toward the bathroom. She closes the door (maybe a little harder than she meant to) and quickly removes the lenses from her eyes while leaning over the sink. It's only when she has them out and safely stored in their case that she starts to process Katsumi's second request.

Her name. She's kept it secret for years, ever since she left home and started on the underground circuit in America. Her family had connections in Kolkata, and she hadn't wanted to risk them sending anyone after her. But it was more than that, she had to admit. Her name was another choice her parents had made for her, another way they'd tried to control their daughter's destiny. When she began wrestling, she didn't want to deal with any of that baggage. She wanted to choose her own name, and make it famous. That's what she's trying to do in L.A.W., after all. Wouldn't admitting her real name be a kind of surrender?

And yet...there is a part of her that longs to drop the mask, to connect with someone outside of her in-ring persona. Besides, Katsumi doesn't seem like the kind of person to rat her out. Even if she did, would her family still be looking for her, after all this time? She stares into the mirror, gazing at her own dark brown eyes, then makes a snap decision. She opens the door and strides confidently back into the main room, where the Punk Princess is waiting for her.

"My name is Suravi Khan," she informs the other woman, inclining her head in a mock bow. "If that's too exotic for you, you can call me Su for short. My parents were a bit weird..." she arches one eyebrow playfully. "But if you want to hear about that, you'll need to get me a drink first. Or give me something I can blackmail you with." Her eyes stray again to the instruments lining the apartment walls. "Do you really play all of these?" Even though she's legitimately interested, she can't help sounding catty.

[CyanDimitrik]

When Bengal takes her leave, Katsumi seizes the moment to fret about her room. Small steps see her pacing one way, then the other, hands lifting to paw through her hair in unadulterated fidgeting. It's a whole other story in the ring - there, she can be as mean and vicious as she likes, and it's all for the sake of the audience and being free. Here, there is no audience. She basically just dared an opponent who was trying to literally choke her out and possibly really hurt her, to her home. Is she stupid?

Well, yes. Yes, she's stupid. Katsumi has accepted this about herself.

But if she this stupid?

The door opens again, and the punkette whirls around to face the newly emerged woman. Her eyes no longer make her look freaky! That small adjustment helps her look entirely more natural, more approachable. It's probably the whole point of the contacts, she gets that.

"Suravi Khan," she pronounces as best she can. It'll take a little practice. "Duh, your parents are weird. They made you." Turning, she follows the indication to the assortment of instruments. A proud little smile tugs the corner of her lips, and she whirls back around with an energetic little pop. "Yep! Every one of'em. And more! Parents pushed me pretty hard into music, and it's what I went into college for. But theeen," she raises her arms to either side broadly, "I got my big break, and a few years later, I'm pinning you."

She suddenly brings a hand forward to lightly prod her index finger against Suravi's chest. "Did'ja.. uh.. follow the other instructions?"

[BengalTheBlazeTiger]

When Katsumi says her real name, the sound of it is unfamiliar to Bengal's ears. It's been so many years since she's heard it spoken out loud. It gives her an unexpected thrill of excitement, as if it's something forbidden. The Japanese woman keeps staring into her eyes, doubtlessly noticing the lack of her prominent contacts. For some reason, Bengal finds it difficult to meet her gaze. She looks away, at the sound equipment, the decorations, back at the instruments, anything to avoid focusing on Katsumi's piercing green eyes. She's so flustered that she doesn't even react when the punkette mentions pinning her - very uncharacteristic!

When Katsumi brushes a finger against her chest, however, she can't help but look straight at her. Her eyes go wide, and she inhales sharply; it takes her a moment to even register the question. "W-what? Oh, oh yeah," she stammers. "The swimsuit. Yeah, I have it. It's not much, but..." she trails off, self-conscious of how nervous she sounds. Compared to her savage performance in the ring tonight, she seems like a totally different person. What is happening to her? "Did you...do you have something in mind?" she continues, straining to keep her voice even, trying to sound as casual as possible.

[CyanDimitrik]

The corner of Katsumi's lips quirk upwards slightly as Suravi seems to squirm under the attention. She likes that. She likes that side of her. Seems more real, more personal, and ultimately more fun to pick and tease at. Everything in Katsumi's life feels like a power dynamic, with her being a social shark. Blood in the water, metaphorically speaking, just keeps her attention all the better.

"Uh, yeah," says Katsumi, hooding her gaze at her. "That's kind'a the point." Swimsuits aren't meant to be much! Especially bikinis. And though she wasn't sure what to expect her to arrive with, she's eager to see what's coming. Moreover, she's not afraid to let Suravi know it.

"I do, yeah. I intend to see ya in it."

She takes a step back, then gestures towards her with both arms in an up-and-down sweep. "I think we've built up enough suspense. Let's see what my opponent likes to swim in..."

[BengalTheBlazeTiger]

Bengal (or is it Suravi?) flushes at the other woman's words. Of course, she doesn't know what she expected. Why would Katsumi have asked her to wear a swimsuit, if not to see it? But there's something about hearing it out loud that sends a tingle down her spine.

She probably wants to humiliate me, Suravi thinks nervously to herself. Make me do some sort of striptease. The worst part is, she's not even that bothered by the prospect. Am I going crazy?

The air in the apartment suddenly feels very hot and still. Katsumi wasn't wrong about the building suspense. Suravi waits for as long as she can bear, trying to catch her breath. Then she rips off her sweatshirt, throwing it aside as if the garment is suffocating her. Her jeans follow a moment later, leaving her standing revealed, wearing nothing but her two-piece and her socks. Might as well get it over with, she thinks to herself. She can't make me do a striptease if I strip everything off all at once!

She wonders if the gesture will encourage Katsumi to strip as well. The Punk Princess does seem to have a fondness for one-upping people, after all. And it would be nice to see what her figure looks like, underneath that silky robe...Bengal tries to center herself as her heart skips another beat. It's important to keep her expectations realistic. Katsumi has no reason to undress for her; she was the winner of the match, after all. Why would she even want to...

Suravi takes on what she hopes is a confident pose, with her hips swayed and her hands crossed in front of her navel. "There you go. See anything you like?" she asks, trying to sound sarcastic and detached. Underneath the facade, she worries that Katsumi will start laughing at her. She's not sure she'd be able to take that.