Makoto Aihara vs. Isa Kubota - Silver Medal

Pain. Makoto was dealing with a lot of it at the moment, but physical and mental, as she wallowed about on the floor. She should’ve been better than this, shouldn’t have fallen for these stupid tricks, should’ve been able to beat her older opponent by now - but she hadn’t. What was she missing? What was the key?

It was a question that dominated her thought processes, all the way up until the moment where she had something more to think about - namely, the fingers gripping her hair, lifting her up, and hauling her towards the table. ”Get off me!” She groaned and kicked as she was led about. ”Get off me, you stupid-”

She was sent hard into the table a moment later, turning just in time to crash hard against her back. She slumped to the floor right after, her back arched as she rolled about, her teeth gritted tight.

Kubota's plan was glorious in its simplicity... she was going to put Makoto through the announce table. If she was going to lower herself to agree to a match like this, she might as well do something memorable, iconic. That it came with the promise of breaking Makoto's body, and perhaps her spirit, was icing on the cake. "You really shouldn't be insulting your betters. Have you no manners? I demand you address me as Senpai. No... *Sama*. Please Kubota Sama, don't drive my head through a table. Like that."

Isa bent down one hand reaching for the familiar fistful of the Judoka's hair, the other grasping her by the back of her shorts, attempting to haul Makoto up once again like a sack of flour and bury a hard knee into her belly. The attack was only meant to wind the Judo Babe long enough for Isa to wrestle her enemy up onto the table.

Makoto didn’t often participate in matches like this, but she would’ve had to be a true wrestling neophyte to not know what her proximity to the table likely meant. She knew what Isa was trying to do, and she knew what she would likely have to do if she wanted it to not happen.

She didn’t have to wait too long for her opportunity. Isa came in, taunting all the way, and shot her leg out with a stiff knee, one that sank into Makoto’s gut, likely an attempt to soften her up. It might’ve worked, too, if the Judo Babe hadn’t soldiered through the pain and grabbed her leg before it could get away.

”Shut.”

She reached up, grabbed Isa’s shoulder with her other arm, and jerked upwards with one, powerful motion, summoning all the power she could muster to send Isa up and over, trying to drop her hard on top of the table with a T-Bone Suplex.

”Up!”

Kubota Sama was already thinking beyond the moment, beyond Makoto and to how best to elevate her career on the Judo Babes shattered body. Makoto was a national celebrity, and the clip of her being flung like a rag-doll through a table was bound to end up on a mainstream news broadcast. They'd paint her, unjustly, as some sort of villain instead of the prime athlete she was, but so be it. If Isa couldn't have fame, she'd settle for infamy.

Isa's knee struck home and struck hard, and the modern day warrior opened her mouth to taunt before her eyes widened in shock. "What are you-" She began as Makoto seized her leg before she could pull it back. By the time she realized just what the Judoka was doing, it was too late. Makoto clenched her body close and snared her in a T-bone suplex!

"Aaahhh!" Isa cried out as she flew, a short, brutal trip that sent her crashing through the announce table with a sickening crunch! The crowd gave a collective gasp, followed by a roar of approval! Isa Kubota heard none of it. All she knew was pain, her body a solid sheet of agony that made her vision grey out made rational though impossible. Isa writhed in the midst if the ruin, arms and legs sprawled, a few nicks and tears in her leotard revealing pale skin where the jagged edges bit into her. The announcer and time keeper had both already scattered, no ref got involved nor the medic. This was, after all, completely legal.

Was that the first time Makoto had put someone through a table? She was having trouble remembering, but off the top of her head, she couldn’t think of any time she’d gone so far. That wasn’t Judo. That wasn’t the ‘gentle path’ she was supposed to be walking. Quite the opposite, in fact - it wasn’t like her style naturally allowed for moves such as that. That suplex was just something she picked up from her time with the Roses, one of Dixie’s favorites.

But it worked. And, in this sort of match, she couldn’t think of a better person to use it on, save for the Iron Maiden herself.

Isa would make a great substitute until then, however. The move laid her out in the wreckage of the table, pieces strewn all about, nothing but wreckage. Most importantly, though, she wasn’t moving, which meant she was wide open for whatever Makoto could think of. She had an idea on that, as it turned out.

Before Isa could hope to right herself, she grabbed her by the arm and yanked her over, forcing her on her back. From there, it was a simple matter of pulling that arm between her legs, falling on her back, and yanking hard, attempting to put her fellow countrywoman into a tight scissored armbar.