Makoto Aihara vs. Isa Kubota - Silver Medal

Match Type: No Holds Barred
Victory Conditions: Pinfall or Submission Only. No disqualifications, no countouts.

***

"Last chance to run, coward."

Isa Kubota was not Zarya Volkov, but that wasn’t to say she wasn’t impressive in her own ways. While she lacked the Russian’s size - along with 99% of the roster - she made up for it with an imposing presence, one that might’ve sent some of her foes running from the outset. The way she looked at Makoto, with the two of them standing there in the middle of the ring, she could imagine a less experienced wrestler being beaten before a single move was made. She looked down on you like you were an ant to be crushed. Like you didn’t belong.

There was a time it might’ve gotten to Makoto, too. Unfortunately for Isa, that time had long passed.

When Isa stepped close, Makoto did the same and closed the gap between them. They were face to face, chest to chest, eye to furious eye. ”I didn’t run from Zarya, and I’m not running from you.”

They might’ve stayed in that position for all eternity, if the referee hadn’t came to the ring and split them up. Makoto moved back at her urging, going to her corner for the official start. She had a lot of pent-up rage to vent, and she could wait a few more seconds to get it all out. She hated to waste any of it on someone not named Zarya Volkov, but this would more than do as a consolation prize.

When the bell finally rang, Makoto came out of her corner much quicker than usual for her startup. She didn’t run, but there was none of the careful steps and cautious looks she often brought. Instead, she moved towards the center of the ring with her arms raised, promptly challenging Isa to a lock-up.

"You should have run."

It wasn't even a warning, just a statement of simple fact. Even Isa herself didn't know the full extend of what was going on, Zarya never told her who she worked for and trying to figure out what was going on in her partners mind was about as appealing as wading through a pool of raw sewage.

She shoved the thought away. This wasnt about Zarya or whatever other game might be going on behind the scenes. This was about her and Makoto Aihara, who had earned every second of pain Isa meant to inflict. In truth, she hoped no one interfered. She wanted to prove she was superior to the celebrated gold medalist all by herself.

Isa strode forward as the bell rang to start the match, arms extended to lock up with the Judoka. Kubota threw her weight into it, attempting to bully Makoto back against the ropes, a dangerous place to be considering the lack of rope breaks. The referee had little authority in a match like this beyond recording the fall or submission.

Makoto chewed her lip as she closed in on Isa, nearing the larger woman with weary eyes. She wasn’t afraid - after what she’d endured, putting fear in her heart would take a great deal more than this. But she was careful. More to the point, she was considering how best to go about this.

The two of them met and locked horns like charging rams, but that was where the comparison ended. The difference in strength was made clear in an instant. Isa pushed her back and back and back, and would've pushed her right into the turnbuckle if Makoto didn't stop her.

If.

Before that could happen, Makoto attempted to untangle from the lockup and swing around behind Isa, looking to get her in a waistlock and push her towards the corner from behind

In any other circumstance, Kubota would have welcomed the challenge of trading holds with Makoto. She enjoyed chain wrestling early in a match, testing her skill against her opponents, getting a feel for their reflexes and ability to escape certain positions. That wasn't what this match was about, however. The Judo Babe had come looking for revenge, and Isa's job was to show her exactly what traveling down that dark path meant. She didn't come out to test her skill against Makoto, she had come to hurt her.

When Makoto swept around behind her, Kubota bent her knees to lower her center of gravity and stop the other girls momentum, making herself harder to push towards the corner. Then, Isa knew her head backwards, looking to nail Makoto in the face with the back of her skill and remind the former Olympian exactly what kind of match she'd signed up for.

If the blow landed, and was enough to force Makoto to let her go, Isa would immediately look to reach her arm backwards and look it around the back of Makoto's neck, attempting to pull the judoka into a side headlock.

It didn't take long for Makoto to be reminded exactly why she avoided these sort of matches. Even if you ignored the opportunity for straight up cheating, they encouraged an uncouth style of wrestling, one that you wouldn't have seen in a civilized setting.

It was easy to accept the match, but training her body to expect unusual tactics was a different thing. It just hadn't occurred to her that Isa would do a thing like using a headbutt to escape her waistlock, so when it happened, the Judo Babe was thrown for a loop.

She stumbled back and shook her head, taking a second to regain her senses, but it was a second that Isa didn't want to give her. Makoto’s head was seized a second later, and she was roughly shoved into a tight headlock. Not wanting to stay locked down a second longer than need be, Makoto tried to pull them both backwards, hit the ropes, and push Isa away from them as they moved forward, looking to send her opponent running and free herself in the process.

Isa grinned, satisfied by the outcome. Judo girl knew what kind of match they were in now, but she doubted Makoto would adapt well. It wasn't easy to ignore all that mental conditioning. Of course, Makoto was a skilled opponent regardless and Isa wasn't going to give her opponent a second to breathe.

She also had zero intention of fighting fair.

When Makoto backed them both against the ropes and attempted to use the momentum to shove her off, Isa did indeed release the headlock, only to grab for Makoto's hair as she did. If she managed to snare a firm girl, Kubota would run a few steps and then leap into a sitting position, attempting to drive the judoka face first into the mat with a modified bulldog.

There was a brief flash of a second where Makoto was happy after she pushed Isa away, thinking she’d managed to get a moment of freedom, something she could start building her offense on. A nice, novel idea, and one that was swiftly killed by a firm grip on her hair.

She couldn’t hold back the shriek as Isa yanked her head back and held it tight, and she couldn’t do much to keep the wild woman from taking control of her in that moment.

Makoto went up. Makoto went down. On her face.

The bulldog was a simplistic move, but an effective one. It knocked the sense out of Makoto’s head and left her laying on the mat, reeling while she tried to get some sense back into her skull.

Not a good start.

Isa Kubota rose to her feet and stared down at a dazed Makoto with contempt written on her sun darkened face. It was just as she'd thought. The judoka wasn't equipped to deal with an opponent willing to flagrantly break the rules of wrestling conduct. This was going to be easy.

"What's wrong, Makoto? Where's your fire? Where's your fighting spirit? Don't tell me it was all beaten out of you."

Isa bent down to grab two fist fulls of Makoto's dark hair, attempting to drag the Judo Babe over to the ropes and force her head between the bottom and middle rope. Kubota's intent was to plant a boot between Makoto's shoulder blades with all of her weight, pushing the judoka throat-first onto the bottom rope to strangle her with it, taking full advantage of the rules.. or lake-thereof.

Makoto was beginning to intensely dislike this woman.

She still hadn’t quite reaching the level of raw animus she had for Zarya, not yet, but she was rapidly approaching a similar level. The taunting helped - while the Iron Soldier had given her condescending smack, too, something about it coming from the lips of her countrywoman made it almost worst.

Or, maybe it was just the fact that there was some truth to it. A strong possibility.

Either way, Makoto was beginning to seethe, and having her hair yanked did nothing to quell that. She fought it, of course, but there was little she could do as Isa dragged her to the ropes and choked her on them. Little but squirm about and cough and glare as the pressure was put on her throat.

The crowd was jeering up a storm by this point and Isa let their animosity wash over her like water off a duck. She didn't care what they thought.

"I hope you're not waiting for the referee to save you." Isa Kubota stepped fully onto Makoto's upper back with both feet, grabbing the top rope to hold herself steady as the judoka squirmed beneath her, choking on th e bottom rope. Then, as suddenly as the attack began, it ended, Isa stepping off of her.

"What do I have to do to get a rise out of you? Hmm, how about I break your ankle?"  It was no idle threat, evident by the ice in Isa's voice. If she couldn't get a real fight out of Makoto, she'd just end the match now and defeat the great Makoto Aihara in record time. Moving to stand directly behind her, Isa bent for her opponents right leg, siezing Makoto's ankle. Given the opportunity, Kubota would pull her into a standing ankle lock, a dire situation to be in when the referee couldn't force a rope break.