Katsumi is standing before her dressing room mirror, turning her hip to assess her appearance in her attire from a different angle. Everything has to be just right, from the pink longsleeved top to the black sportsbra-esque wrestling top worn beneath, black short shorts, feline-themed belt, sleek black wrestling boots, and light coat of pink lip gloss.
Her hip cocks and she winks at the mirror. "
Bam." She totally just did that, yes. She's in a terrific mood tonight. She doesn't know a thing about her opponent, but she's ready to electrify the audience and dominate whoever her opponent might be! Of course, it can't be too quick a pin! The audience paid for a show, and she still has to showcase what she can do!
A girlish, excited giggle escapes her lips before she can catch it, her fingers quickly setting over her mouth. Being where she is, knowing that each performance makes her more of a staple in a real, legitimate, growing national wrestling federation fills her with a certain level of giddiness that she has a hard time suppressing when alone.
There's a knock on the dressing room door, and she takes a sudden inhale. "
C-coming!," she calls, taken off guard. Right. Game time. Game face. She looks back at the mirror and takes a deep, deep breath, her chest puffing out. As she exhales, she presents her near-trademarked confident smirk. "
Let's do this."
---
Her opponent's intro is... different. Very different. Behind the curtain, her hands prop to her hips and she tilts her head. She'd
love to get a look at this girl, but she's minding her place for the moment. The Hell kind of intro music is that? Folk music? She definitely doesn't speak the language it's in. Where did the announcer say she's from? Italy? Whatever is going on out there, the audience seems to be eating it up. God, the curiosity is killing her!
The Punk Princess gives her head a quick shake, retraining her thoughts. Whoever it is, it's someone she's gonna have to put on her back. She'll find out her details soon enough. The first thing she needs to concern herself with is her introduction. She begins bobbing on her boots, her head bowed, zeroed in...
The ominous rave siren at the beginning signals a plume of fog to billow over the entrance curtain. As soon as the synths of her music selection kick in, a series of green, purple, and red laser lights come to life along the borders of the ramp, pulsing in rhythm with her music.
"
And her opponent! From Osaka, Japan! KATSUMI! OOOOSHIROOOO!"
The young grappler throws the curtains back and steps through the wall of fog into view, right fist held high, heralding the cheer of the audience. Perhaps unlike her opponent, her expression is nothing but confident and predatory, a wicked smile playing on her lips. Dark green eyes set on her opponent in the ring, and she lowers her raised fist to chest-height. Her other fist joins, and they pull apart, pantomiming breaking Marzia in half.
And she's off! Katsumi leads a spirited, albeit feminine trot down the ramp. As she nears the ring, her hands move to the bottom hem of her pink shirt to pull up and over her head, exposing her slender, toned waist to the arena's open air.
The shirt is cast onto the ring's outer corner before she springs up onto the ring apron herself. Katsumi turns around to face the audience, her arms draped over the top rope with her back arched, upper-body taut on display. She shoots them a wink before suddenly somersaulting backwards over the top rope to land neatly in the ring and moving back into her corner to be inspected by the referee-girl.
Whilst she's being checked out, her eyes never leave Marzia. That confident smirk has blossomed into a full predatory smile.
