The Demon and the Prince! - Masuyo Ai vs Daisuke Takeuchi

She liked that name. Demon Masuyo. Had a nice ring to it. It reminded her of Devil Shimazu, a nickname from one of her favorite war heroes. She made a mental note to have the editors highlight it for her reel. Perhaps she'd even thank this guy once she was done beating him up and down the ring.

Masuyo was building up for another charge when Daisuke began his boasting again. Most people might be annoyed, especially following that terrible first impression, but she took an unusual enjoyment in putting jerks like this in their place. Even better, she was getting paid for it and turning it into a show. It was like a dream come true. She raised an eyebrow as he showed off to her. A small smirk grew on her face, seeing the ripples and contours beneath his tight skin.

“Huh, nice.”

Scary alias aside, Masuyo was a young woman just like any other. Her appreciation for a strong male body came naturally to her. Also he was hot. Bonus points. Factor in that she got to go toe to toe with him, no rules whatsoever? Her excitement was coming back in waves. Now that he had issued a challenge towards her, it was impossible for her to hold herself back.

“For show? Look at you, acting all tough. You were the one on your ass two seconds ago, Mr. Big-and-Bad.” She punched her fists together before raising her hands, meeting his gaze. “But if you insist, I’ll indulge you. Come on, let me see what you have in mind!”

Edging closer towards him, she would follow his lead. Whatever strength he planned to muster from that facade, she would match it no problem.

There was something uniquely strange about this girl but Daisuke couldn't quite put what it was. Still, he couldn't deny that she was a tough woman and she knew what she was doing in the ring. However, Daisuke was not going to be pushed around by this rookie- there was a reason he was called (self-proclaimed) wrestling prince and he was going to show this rookie who's the real boss of this ring. He wasn't going to let her steal the show and as she began to pose for the crowd- or for him, he couldn't really tell, the wrestling prince rose to his feet and began to mimic Masuyo's pose to flex his biceps.

It did surprise him that she complimented him, he would suppose as a woman she could appreciated a finely crafted male figure. Still, this was going to be a wrestling contest and not a show-off of muscle contest and the two would soon have to resume with the wrestling. Daisuke would approach her and challenge her to a test of strength, a challenge that she was not going to back down of at all.

So far, Daisuke figured out two things. One that she had good strikes and punches and two, that she had a vice-like grip using her scissor it was now time to test her strength. The two stood face to face once more as Daisuke raised his arms up high in the air "Alright then....let's do this, test of strength" he would smirk , wanting her to clasp hands with his so that they may begin their test of strength contest.

At least this guy didn’t scare easy. It was a nice change from the competition back home. Plenty of those guys spent a fair amount of the match keeping their distance or downright refusing them, intimidated by her record and aggressiveness. She was glad she came to this federation, if it meant running into more men like this. Men who were proud to face danger in the face. Welcomed it, in fact. Then again, most of that confidence was obviously coming from that arrogant facade of his. Bah, that would only make this fight all the more enjoyable. It was hard for her to imagine this guy as a champion in anyone’s mind.

A punching bag, however. Now that was a pleasant thought for her. Masuyo edged closer and closer to the taller man with the challenge underway. She gave her shoulders a good roll as they came within striking distance.

“Hah!” She let out, lunging forward as their hands clasped together.

They pushed back and forth against each other, a few moments longer than their initial lockup at the start. Masuyo twisted her wrists and pumped her arms, testing the man’s strength. The conclusion? Those muscles clearly weren’t just for show. She couldn’t really speak for the wrestling circuit, with their hulking brutes that looked like something out of a monster movie. For the MMA crowd, however, he would certainly rank on the upper end. This might be a problem.

“Damn it. Learn to fall over, dick.”

He gained a little ground, she gained a little ground. It was a bit tiring, but hopefully she could outlast him. Widening her stance, she turned up the heat, refusing to surrender any ground.

This woman was really something, she didn't seem like no rookie that AFW just picked up from the streets because she had a nice hot body, it seemed this one actually had some wrestling prowess and skill. Still, it wouldn't be enough to defeat the prince of wrestling, would it? After an initial assessment from their match, Daisuke knew he would indeed have to break a little sweat to beat Masuyo, what better way to try and do that than by testing her strength in a good ol fashioned test of strength battle.

He raised his arms up high above his head, inviting her and she did not disappoint at all. Walking over towards him ,she would roll her shoulders to loosen up before quickly clasping hands with him. The two engaged in a heated test of strength grapple, with neither really dominating the other. Both of them gaining ground and losing it, it was a stalemate.

The frustrated prince let out a slight grunt, sweat tricking down his forehead as he glared into the Demon's eyes. "You first, bitch" he would snap back. Having enough of this, he would try a cheap-shot, looking to raise his knee up into those delicious abs of hers to try and make her double over, if he was successful, he would try to wrap his arms around her head to go for a simple side headlock.

If she was being honest, Masuyo never felt safe in these holds. The closeness. The struggle. The tension in the air. It put her on edge unlike anything else. The absolute strain that they were both mutually exerting built fatigue up incredibly quickly. More than that, it created openings. Openings that they could both be willing to exploit whenever the opportunity presented itself. The only thing that kept either contestant from crossing that line was the competition within the larger competition. A small sense of honor that clearly established the better man, or woman, in front of anyone. Honor that her opponent was clearly lacking, as he delivered a sharp knee to her shapely stomach.

But, again, Masuyo never liked this position, much less with an arrogant prick like this. In some way, she foresaw this kind of thing happening, albeit a lot later than expected. Back in the octagon, as unlikely as it may have been for this to happen, it probably would have held a little longer. Around here though, where you had people literally addressing themselves as royalty? Not a chance.

Inwardly, she thought it unbecoming of a supposed prince to call her a bitch before driving a knee into her stomach, like a sore loser.

Doesn’t really fit the persona now does it? Ah, “wrestling” prince. Now it makes sense. Wonder who the king would be? Oh, well, King of course. That kitty filled the arrogant asshole criteria in spades. This guy can be prince of poop mountain for all I care. All of these royalty types can go to hell.

So, when the hit came her way, her body immediately reacted. Her body tensed, and when the knee collided, she let out a pained gasp before tearing her hands away from the man’s grip. Rushing to his raised leg, she’d grab it before she had a chance to recover, just as he was making his next move, wrapping his muscled arm around her in a headlock.

“Let...go…” She choked, still struggling a bit from the shot to the gut.

It was an awkward position, but she wasn’t going to concede just yet. Reeling his leg back, she’d attempt to drive him on his back into the mat before settling on top of him. If she could manage that, she would drive fist after fist into his exposed side, trying to break the firm lock around her neck.

As much as Daisuke would want to prove Masuyo wrong, that he was the more fit wrestler of the two, that as a male wrestler he would have won that test of strength and took her down, he wasn't going to take any chances after she had taken control in their initial lock up. Daisuke was looking for a win here, there was no way he was going to let this rookie coming over from the octagon run circles around him in HIS ring. After suckering her in the test of strength and for a while, actually trying and struggling to push her back in the contest, the wrestling prince decide to bring that to an abrupt ending as he brought his knee up into the chiseled abs of his female opponent. He would let out a grunt and curse out as his knee connected, grinning in satisfaction as he looked at her and trapped her head under his arm to squeeze tight in headlock but the crafty female wrestler had caught his raised leg just as he had struck her.

Masuyo obviously was not going to sit still, immediately she would use the grip on his knee to push him back and shove him down on his back *THUD*. Daisuke let out a small grunt as Masuyo fell on top of him, he didn't ease up on the headlock, still squeezing her head tight against his arm and only only he felt her fist driven into his exposed side did he let lout a loud grunt of pain as he eased up on the headlock. "S-shit oww...t-that friggin hurt"he moaned.

A few more strikes into the side of his abdomen, and Masuyo felt the hold starting to loosen up. A good thing too. It was starting to hurt a little bit as he dug into the crook of her neck. Those muscles really weren’t just for show. His skills weren’t bad so far, but his bloodlust was lacking. There was a certain intuition absent that she was used to. The regal man before her really kept to his persona, inside and out. He didn’t dare stoop to the unrelenting savagery of the common fighter.

In anyone else’s shoes, that may have appeared noble. For Masuyo, it was merely another vulnerability to exploit. Just like she thought, there plenty of fighters around here who’ve never been in a real fight. No wonder that pretty face of his was still in mint condition. Might have to fix that.

Right now, her concern was the hold. He had the weight advantage, and in terms of strength they were fairly matched. And unlike Valley, he was a bit more balanced. This might look bad from the outset, but half of the fighting was done in the mind. And, in that regard, he might somewhat vulnerable.

Sending another couple blows into his side, she stuck a hand between his arm, just managing to break free from his lock. Snapping away from under his arm, she’d attempt to take his now idle arms and pin them down onto the mat over his. He'd given her somewhat of an opening, now it was time to use it.

“Hah! You’re pitiful!” She’d let out, before slamming her head repeatedly against his, wanting to draw some blood. Although, that's a tall order given the size of her adversary.

It's a savage tactic nonetheless, even by wrestling standards. Brutish. Unrelenting. Stupidly courageous. That’s how Masuyo was often defined. In this match, she’d prove herself a mad beast on the battlefield, ready to destroy everyone foolish enough to provoke her ire.

She had been clever in grabbing onto his raised knee, allowing her to dump the prince down onto his back while ending up on top of him. Unfortunately for Daisuke, she wasn't just going to stay on top of his body and enjoy the feeling of his chiseled frame pressed up against her own as he would squeeze her neck in the headlock. Masuyo would unload strike after strike against his side, prompting him to ease up his submission maneuver.

The next thing he felt was her arms snake up around his wrists as she pried them off her neck and pressed them down onto the mats, pinning them above his head as she was on top while he was under her. He gritted his teeth and wriggled under her, trying to buck up and push her off "Y-you! Get the hell off of me-AHHH" as he was struggling to push her off, her head came slamming down onto his forehead repeatedly, making their skulls crack hard against each other as the prince groaned out loudly, his head felt fuzzy and dazed after those headbutts and for a moment he only shook his head, trying to clear that strange dizzy feeling.

She let a couple more headbutts lash into him before she let up. Rearing her head back, she inspected the damage. The man was clearly dazed. His head shook this way and that as he tried to get out his little slump. This was clearly the time to capitalize on the situation. But still, Masuyo just couldn't help but rub it in a little.

This guy was of a pompous sort, the kind she was especially annoyed by. A thrashing was one way to get the point across, but the Demon wanted to make sure it stuck. Her head wasn't in the best shape either, but she had been through worse and had plenty more in the tank to dish out.

So, after reeling her head back a bit, Masuyo would lean forward. Further pressing the prince's arms down against the canvas, she would move further and further down as she brushed past his cheek and brought her lips to his ear with a whisper.

“You shouldn't ever underestimate your opponent. Guys like that always fall over the quickest. And I'll show you how. I'm gonna pulverize you, fake Prince.”

With every word, warm breaths made its way to his ear. Half of it was to send a message, half was to throw him off his game. Given the state of things, it may just work.

With that, she quickly rose back up, and let go of his arm, shooting a fist into his cheek intent on keeping him down. If she managed that, she would then attempt to stand up and help him rise to his feet, grabbing him by his immaculate strands and a hand hooked under his arm. With this, she would set him up for a codebreaker.

Clearly Daisuke was not expecting such ferocity from the Demon, perhaps her alias was more than just a clever play of words. She did seem to fight like a demon indeed, adopting hard-hitting tactics as her head smacked into the forehead of the prince repeatedly to really shake him up and in the process, she might have done some damage to her own head, nonetheless the wrestling prince was the one who was worse off in that clash of heads.

He wriggled under her, shaking his head, he felt his arms stretch above his head as she pinned them down before her toned frame pressed down ontop of his. He moaned out softly as their warm,sweaty bodies were pressed tight and he wriggled under her, bucking up a bit to try and push her off.

Her warm breath blew against his ear as he heard her talk smack, making him grit his teeth in frustration. She would soon release his arms and push back up, not before landing another punch to his cheek to make his head turn to one side as spittle flew off his mouth. "Ouff!" he cried out, looking to recover from that shot but she had other plans.

Grabbing him by his hair and a hand hooked under his arm, she would pull him up to his feet. "Gah....oww! Y-you little...NGH!" he grunted looking to land a couple of quick forearm strikes aimed at her chest, attempting to stun her by knocking some wind out of her and halting her offence.