L.A.W. - League of Anime Wrestling

At the front: A stage overhung by a black LED screen. Around the stage were flowers with faces, vines that curl around the stage’s edge, pink flames flickering at either edge of the upstage darkness, and three golden barrels shining at the center like the guns at the bow of a battleship. Their tips extend far upward, past a canopy hanging the top of the stage.

From her hidden box, Shimmerlace peered down at the audience. College kids with their faces in their phone, a crew of girls conversing with each other bright-eyed and animated, one overweight woman in a wheelchair—the gamut, here for a show.

So give it to them. Press of a button lanced a bugle call. The guns lowered, exposing their hollow tips as long, black circles. Most in the audience went quiet, turned their eyes to the stage, though a few chewed at their snacks and a few in the back ignored the performance in favor of their private conversations.

“The Teatime Court for some time has found itself at war.”

BANG. A sound like fireworks erupts from the golden array, and flame gouted out of the barrels. Smoke filled the space around these barrels, and when the din and fog thinned, a new figure sat atop the gun: The Seelie Scion herself. She was bedecked, tall beneath a tricorn hat, resplendent between golden epaulets and a breast full of gleaming martial medals and a naval coat that would have looked fitting in a 19th century European navy’s upper echelons were only it not bright pink and had only its coattails not grown out into butterfly wing tips. A sip from the teacup. Raise it out and up. Call to the audience.

“And who, confabulists of the coterie, is our enemy?”

A muddled response rose from the tourist crowd. A handful got it right, but theirs was a weak voice in the darkness. Shimmerlace glowered.

“Allow me to shed a wee bit of clarity those new among you: I have no interest in casual onlookers, and no love for any not prepared to be SOAKED THROUGH, toe to nostril, with the shivering magic of our cause. If you know not with whom we war, listen and learn, or else leave. Now I ask my loyal retainers once more: Who. Is. Our enemy?”

ANGELINA. TARRANT.

There it was. Beautiful synchronicity. Another long, savored sip from the teacup. There remained a few strays around the edges buried in their phones, and Shimmerlace made a note of their look and locations.

“Angelina Tarrant. Aye. In this very building, she ripped our rabbit viceroy from our breast, left us bloody, and turned our fluffy wee companion against us. How, coterie, do we respond? I tell you the answer: We sail.” A lean in, a darkening of the brow, the slight curl of a smile. “How. Coterie. Do we respond?”

We sail.

“We what?”

WE SAIL.

We sail indeed. A shift of the legs to the long length of the gun, a hop, and then she stood astride her gun. She flicked her wrist and gold flashed into being. The golden staff of the court pointed out over the audience while electric fans whirled on and wind blew back her hair—all while a fitting musical score took up her backwind.

“We sail—Into the rescue of our beloved viceroy. We sail to meet the pirate and tear her horns from her skull and snap them like thorny branches. We sail to wrest any whiff of a hope dear Angie might have for Apex gold. Friends, we vow, wings unfurled and caught in the gale of this storm, to fight until our coterie is whole once more.”

Her arms thrust out and up, teacup in the one, staff in the other, casting a looming black shadow from the ground stage lights. Then the fans cut off and her hair went limp. The music cut off mid-cadence. She fell to her rump.

“That is…The speech I wish I could give. But the truth is…”

Here the lights shut off together and left the room dark. Then the LED screens lit up. On them were photographs of the Scion—or parts of her. X-rays from dislocated finger, images of a face so swollen it resembled not so much Shimmerlace as a swollen, overripe, protrusion-covered melon, stitches in a lacerated side. Even from her cannon, your girl could hear certain of the marks groan.

“Magic. Gold. Family. Whatever it is, it can be broken. It doesn't matter a toss how pure it is or how much you care or how bright the light shines. And your Scion was broken.”

“Will this time be different?” She let the question hang. Then repeated it: “Will this time be different?” The crowd…murmured. Shimmerlace sighed and shook her head. “Oh ye fucks of little faith. But I’ll grant, I’m not so sure. How do you measure your own strength? Your own deservingness? Aren’t no one in the world, friends of the Coterie, so willing to spin you a yarn as your own wee self. If you’re wise, you find proof. Which brings us to our guest. Yuki Kazikura. Who is, I imagine, a bit perplexed by now, to put it charitably. I would like to address her directly, now.”

The screens shut off, a spotlight shot on. Shimmerlace has sank from the gun to the stage. Her impression of Lord Horatio Nelson has made way for wrestling attire.

“I thank you for indulging our coterie’s…shenanigans. Truth is, we invited you to this wee session of the Coterie to ask for a match. A qualifier, in fact. In both the technical and the spiritual sense.”

With her fairyland shrouded in black, Shimmerlace became a small presence. Her eyes scanned the audience, searching, perhaps, for the recipient of this speech.

“Now I won’t lie.There’re…lots of reasons I might like to see you in the ring. I’m a girl who keeps one eye scanning this promotion’s events for color. Bits of flame. Anything bright to spark a real feeling, aye? And you—well. You’re not stranger to struggle? From Aoi to Amano to Rose Gold. You fight, you encounter the unthinkable, you lose, sometimes, and you fire back as bright-shining as any springtime sprite. Comet-like, though I doubt you’d put it in terms so grandiose.”

“But...” Shimmerlace sighed, and finally hopped to the very edge of the stage so her legs dangled over the edge. Now for the rub. “There’s really one name in particular that’s got me here cap in hand, Yuki. And I’m afraid it’s Angelina Tarrant.”

Shimmerlace let the name hang before she continued.

“We know you’re strong. Among the best of us, these days. But even the strong may crumble, and that’s what happened to you before our…Enemy. So. I figure, if I’m really gonna take this blast at wee Angie’s Apex gold. I’d better be able to handle you.”

”And, if I’m not…ready. Well. I’d rather find that out with you than…The alternative.”

“So. If you’re here Yuki. What say you?”

Anything could happen in the wrestling world. That was a lesson many had learned, in some ways harder than others. No matter how the bookers and promoters tried to plan out a card, one always needed to expect the unexpected. And Yuki Kazikura was one who had learned such a lesson. Even if she wasn't supposed to wrestle tonight, she knew better than to consider this a night off. Tonight's show was broadcasting from near Yokohama, and she had been able to take the train over. She was expecting to be around to provide a few extra hands backstage, help out with whatever setup might have been necessary, and maybe even sign an autograph or two. But Yuki knew to be prepared. There were always those times a wrestler got hurt, or no-showed their match, and someone would be needed to fill in. Yuki was there for that - and she had packed her ring gear, just in case. Living on the road as much as she had, and growing accustomed to the rigors of the wrestling life, she knew how important that could be.

For the time being, though, it seemed as though Yuki wouldn't have much to worry about. She'd helped direct a couple of the staff to the right locations, and she'd helped set up the ring before the show started, but after that, she had gone back to the break rooms to pass the time. She turned her attention to the TV that was broadcasting the show live, just to make sure she wouldn't miss anything. After a couple of matches, Shimmerlace came up on screen. Yuki couldn't say she was one to get too invested in her work. While she knew Shimmer had her fanbase, she seemed like someone who mainly got by on gimmicks, special effects, and a unique presentation - and while that was fine, Yuki's preferences ran toward those who let their in-ring skills speak for themselves. She wanted to let her accomplishments define her, and she was content to be the girl-next-door type everyone could relate to. That being said, when Yuki saw the elaborate getup Shimmerlace had donned, sitting astride a cannon, even she had to be impressed with the production values that must've gone into it. With wide eyes she leaned closer to the screen - if Shimmerlace had done so much already to set the mood, she couldn't help but anticipate what might come next.

And, as a result, Yuki was in a perfect position to hear Shimmerlace call her name.

When she heard it, she nearly jumped up in her seat. Was she hearing things, or was this whole promo calling her out specifically? She did a double-take at first, but when her eyes settled back on the screen, she realized what she was seeing was undeniable. She recognized every match and every feud that Shimmerlace brought up - the thrill of facing then-champion Aoi Fukiwara, the grueling test of endurance and dedication that had been her matches against Amano Jaku, and the shame and guilt of losing to Rose Gold that still haunted her to this day. And now...Shimmer wanted a match.

Yuki didn't need any time to deliberate. She knew what had to be done. Jumping up from her seat, she switched over to watch the broadcast from her phone as she ran into the locker rooms. Setting the phone on a bench, she pulled out her outfit, glancing back and forth to the screen even as she changed so that she wouldn't miss a moment of what Shimmerlace said about her. She smiled a little wider as she heard her commend her efforts. That determination, that willingness to bounce back no matter the odds, was something about Yuki that she took pride in; she wanted to inspire those like her, and when Shimmerlace saw that in her it told her that it was working. But a moment later, Shimmerlace said something else - something that made Yuki freeze in the middle of tying on her boots. She mentioned one other name - Angelina Tarrant.

Yuki had faced Angelina Tarrant before. It was a long and grueling match, one that tested the limits of what Yuki was capable of. It kept forcing her to push herself past her own boundaries, going to greater and greater lengths to survive and succeed as Angelina put her through seemingly every torment imaginable; even Yuki had surprised herself with what she had done. At the end of it all, she had Angelina in place to finish her off with a Warrior Sacrifice. She had fought through terrible odds to make it there, but in the end, everything was going to work out. She would still win.

That was what she thought, at least - before her back gave out on her, and she had been forced to let Angelina go just long enough for the redhead to take her down with the Call of the Unconscious, knocking her out long enough for the pin. It had been Yuki's chance to take back greatness, her time to succeed, and to prove herself to any doubters that she could rise above whatever challenges she was faced with. And, at the last minute, she had blown it.

The reminder was enough to send a shiver down Yuki's spine. She bent her head lower, resting her forehead against her knee and groaning to herself at the thought of her own inability - her own inadequacy. But then, she realized something else, and she tilted her head back toward the screen the more she thought about it. Maybe she had let everyone down - maybe she'd let herself down - in that match. But it didn't have to be that way again. Shimmerlace was singling her out because she had faced Angelina before - and she saw Yuki as the litmus test of how much it took to take the Marauder down. That if Yuki had forced Angelina through such insurmountably herculean tasks in order to best her, she had no hope of standing up to her if she couldn't beat Yuki first. It brought a smile to her face to realize she was being recognized for such deeds, even if she lost. Perhaps there would be something good to come out of that match after all. Perhaps it was worth celebrating. And if that was true...Yuki was going to chase after it. She knew what she needed to do now. There was no turning back.

Spoiler

As soon as Shimmerlace had said her piece, Yuki burst out of the curtains, already clad in her signature yellow skirted leotard. The fans burst into cheers at the sight of her - but her eyes were focused solely on Shimmerlace, as she descended toward the ring with a stern, unmoving glare. Yuki knew that if she was going into a match, she had to approach it exactly as she would any other. There was no room for any fear, or any hesitation. She had to apply herself to the fullest, but she was ready for that. And as she came up onto the apron, she took the microphone to say her piece.

"Let me first say," Yuki began, "and I don't say this lightly, it truly is an honor to hear such praise from you." She bit at her lip, thinking back once again on her loss to Angelina, but choosing not to dwell on it for long. Instead, she sucked in a breath and pushed ahead. "If there's one thing I strive for, it's to do my best in all of my matches. Sometimes I win, sometimes I don't..." A soft sigh left her throat, just barely long enough to be noticeable. "...but what matters the most is that I always give it my all, and I never let anything keep me down. To see that I've been noticed for that...well, I have to thank you."

She bowed her head toward Shimmer. "I've already qualified for Apex. However, if it's a qualifier you want...I would be happy to oblige. I know that you're still getting started in the wrestling world, and I can't forget that one day, I was standing exactly where you are. It feels like yesterday, really, even knowing that I've gone on to challenge champions..." Yuki sighed again at the knowledge that she hadn't succeeded in those challenges. "But what helped push me to the level I am now, and allowed me to be here for you, was how the great wrestlers of the generation before me were willing to let me into the ring, even when I was a scared 16-year-old girl who had no idea what I was doing, because they saw the potential in me, and they wanted to give me a chance to prove it to them. To that end...I want to do that for you. If it gives you the confidence you need in order to strive for greatness yourself, I'll do that for you!"

Hearing the crowd cheer louder, Yuki's heart thumped in her chest. She wasn't quite used to this. It felt odd to be the one giving advice and encouragement to the up-and-coming rookies, instead of being the up-and-coming rookie in that situation. But if Shimmerlace admired her as much as she did, how could she not?

At that point, however, Yuki looked back up at Shimmerlace, and her face grew grave. "However," she said, "I know you want this match to be a test to see how well you can handle Angelina. And I want to warn you - Angelina put me through hell. She forced me to fight to the very limits of what I was capable of - and then some. If I was to truly test your efforts, to weigh them against what Angelina would do to you, I would have to face you on the same level I faced her. And I would not hold back. So...Shimmerlace, I have to ask you this. Are you ready?"

This could’ve gone differently. Yuki might’ve missed the promo. She might’ve ignored Shimmer’s request. She might’ve rolled up just to say no. No, Shimmer girl, I don’t think I’ll waste the time. Just imagining the humiliation shot a shade of rose to Shimmerlace’s cheeks.

But given Shimmerlace’s target, surprise was a key element, so more setup had been out of the question. She had stacked the deck where possible: she’d chosen an event near Yuki’s hometown, for instance. Anyway—It worked. It fuckin’ worked. There was just one last dotted line to sign: Aye, cunt, I’m ready and rarin’ to bite!

But instead of saying that, Shimmerlace raised a hand to her chin, squinting. “Am I ready...Well. If you’re asking if I’ve done the work, then. Aye. I’ve hit the gym all professional-like, hours every day, with Eleanor Gray as a wee guide.”

“If you’re asking about achievements—Mmm!” Her eyes closed. A shiver of magician’s fingers conjured her smoking pipe. Deep inhale of the old pink smoke, and exhale. She shrugged and closed her eyes. “Record’s still shite. Red as blood. But I’ve got two green qualifiers and a supercard under my belt. And I left a fuckin’ mark on our Marauder.”

“But.” Shimmerlace’s eyes popped open, posture tightening as she pointed her pipe at Yuki. “What you’re asking is if I’m ready. And. I don’t know. That’s what’s fuckin’ molten about it.” Her eyes flashed as she cocked her head and popped a grin.

“On more’n one occasion, I’ve compared my idea of ‘greatness’ to becoming a wee comet.” Shimmerlace leaned so far back she seemed in danger of toppling backwards, Her hand painting an imagined smear across the sky. “A brilliant fireball what cuts the retina and marks the millennium.”

“But. Comets burn out, or crash, or disintegrate into fifty million chunks in the ink-black sky and sprinkle the earth with stardust.” Her eyes met Yuki’s as her voice assumed a sotto voce timbre. “Do you think the comet knows when its last spin’s come? As it rounds the planetary cusp, can it guess—this is the day?”

Shimmerlace gradually pulled herself back to a normal standing posture. “...Myself, I imagine comets are as surprised as anyone, on account of focusing, always, on doing a wee, bright burn. But. Back to Earth and to Yuki’s question. Is Shimmerlace Snuggleblossom ready? Maybe, maybe not. But if nothing else, she’s ready to shatter…spectacularly.” As she savored this last word like a delicious morsel, her gaze meandered to the seats. The gibbet-tippers, the ear-rippers, and the one who wasn't there. Her smile grew, and she settled back on Yuki. “That good enough for ya?”

There was definitely one thing Yuki could say about Shimmerlace - the girl had an eye for the dramatic. In giving her speech, Yuki had stayed professional and businesslike, recounting everything she felt and thought about the coming match - and the challenge her opponent offered - with just the facts, and she had stood facing Shimmer in a neutral stance, her tone even and composed. That was far from the case with her opponent. If Shimmerlace was going to announce her intentions for the match, she was going to do so with a complex metaphor, complete with acting out any visual aids she needed to communicate her point with. If Yuki was humble and unassuming, wanting to let her actions in the ring speak for themselves and not being one for theatrics to make herself bigger and more important than she really was, Shimmerlace was quite the opposite. Like the comet she compared herself to, she was bright, loud, and she was going to make an impact. Yuki couldn't say she knew what to feel about that. She'd never been one for people who put on airs.

But that wasn't the impression she got from Shimmer. Despite the differences in the delivery, for both girls, the content of the message had been clear. Both knew they were going into a match with a lot on the line, both wanted to prove themselves through their efforts, and both were committed to applying themselves to the edges of their limits. Shimmer might have been eccentric, but she was ready to back herself up when she needed to. And even if she and Yuki couldn't see eye to eye when it came to presentation, Yuki certainly saw herself reflected in just how dedicated her opponent was to living up to her promises in what she would accomplish in this match. Just like Yuki wanted to inspire everyone like her, everyone who believed in her, so too did Shimmerlace have her fans, and she wanted to put on a show for them. They shared the same goal, and the same mindset. Shimmer would be just as motivated to win as she was. And because of that, Yuki was sure she had a challenge ahead of her - but it was one she was ready to meet!

Nodding her head to Shimmer, Yuki bent at the knees, assuming a stance. "Then in that case...let's see how you live up to that promise!"