Kyouko 'Blade' Uehara vs. Misaki 'Maiden' Sakurazaki - A Painful Reunion

Well, this was growing irritating in a hurry. Maiden was no slouch in the speed department herself, known for her quick, precise and efficient strikes, but she was never what one would call a ‘high-flyer’. She preferred to keep her feet on the ground and move at a more deliberate, methodical pace. An intelligent, thoughtful style, and one that would serve her well against most opponents.

Against Blade, however, the efficacy had yet to be seen. She tried to make her way out of the corner before her opponent could come in and crush, but the rebellious woman closed the distance too quickly, too sharply, too boldly.  One second she was across the ring, and the next had her in Maiden’s face. Or, rather, had her breasts in Maiden’s face.

The genteel wrestler squealed into Blade’s bust, a mixture of surprise, rage, and sheer indignation - of course, it was never enough to simply deal damage with this woman, she had to make a spectacle out of everything. As much as Maiden disliked making her matches personal, she was sorely tempted to hold a grudge against her former fellow Angel for this, and she would be remembering this moment in particular when things swung her way.

That was later, however. In the current moment, she was still getting steamrolled, as Blade pulled her back and launched her skyward, sending her up and over and crashing down hard on her back in an undignified manner. With a pain and irritated grunt, Maiden immediately sat upright after the impact and reached around behind her back, massaging her spine while she winced hard at the pain.

If Blade's actions seemed entirely off the wall and wholly unpredictable, there was a perfectly logical reason for that. Which was that she herself was kinda making all of this up as she went along. Someone of her rambunctious nature never being one for long and thought out match strategies, and this of course made it that much more impossible to counter the Aerial Artist once she was on a proverbial roll. And if she had decided to go the boring route of well-calculated grapples and mat wrestling, she wouldn't have had the fun of rubbing Misaki's prim and proper face in her modestly-sized boobs for some added humiliation.

It really was the little things in life...

After slinging the stuffy maid overhead, Blade would tuck her legs into her stomach until she was a curled up ball before springing her legs out in a dramatic and fluid kip-up. The cheering crowd applauding the high-octane kickoff to the match-up from the resident fan-favorite. Blade feeding off their rambunctious energy and the palpable hype in the stadium by marching back and forth behind the seated Maiden, her arms extended to her sides with her fingers wiggling in anticipation...

Once Misaki started to get her well-dressed ass off the canvas, Blade would hop through the middle and top rope to take a standing position on the ring apron. She fervently clenched onto the top rope and grinned wildly for what she felt was the perfect opportunity to unveil a finisher she had been practicing in secret...The Air Cutter.

Her timing needed to be perfect, and once the stuffy maid would turn around she would see the wild-eyed highflyer leap onto the top rope. Blade scoffing from needing to do a brief, wavering balancing act before attempting to catapult herself forward in a maneuver that was as dangerous as it was guaranteed to put an early end to this match!!

While Blade was, indeed, unpredictable, Maiden had often found that there was a rather odd pattern to her, if one actually took a moment to consider the way she thought. Basically, if Maiden wanted to know what Blade was about to do, she had to stop and think about what she wouldn’t do in any given situation.

Case in point.

If she had her opponent down and vulnerable, she would use the opportunity to put on a headlock or somesuch maneuver. A simple hold, something to wear away on her opponent’s stamina at the early stages with minimal cost to her own.  A practical, safe tactic.

But she doubted that Blade even knew how to spell ‘practical’ and ‘safe’. What she would do in this situation was go for the most dangerous, high-risk move possible, something that Maiden would patently avoid. Despite the fact that Maiden was the shorter woman between them and no slouch when it came to speed, she shunned such maneuvers. Why do something so senseless when there were a bevy of potent alternatives?

Sure enough, as she rose to her feet, she looked out of the corner of her eye and spied Blade on the apron, no doubt getting ready for a springboard the second she turned around. Of course.

Maiden did spin around, and sure enough, Blade leaped up on the ropes, no doubt expecting her to be surprised by the sudden accent. Instead, Maiden merely leaped to the side and shot her leg up, hitting the top rope beside her with a superkick. If her timing was correct, it would make the rope that Blade was perched on wiggle, which would upset her delicate balance, and then...

Blade clenched the ropes tighter with every passing second of Misaki's prolonged and sluggish ascent, that in itself adding to the heightened anticipation bubbling over in the audience. They themselves not even knowing what maneuver Blade had concocted in that scruffy-haired head of hers. Though knowing her, they expected it to be something flashy, reckless, and worth whipping out the cell phone cameras for.  

Blade herself never feeling more alive than in the fleeting seconds before she was about to take flight. The intoxicating rush of being the center of attention in a stadium rhythmically chanting her name wasn't something she was about to forget anytime soon, especially behind the desk of some stuffy manager's desk back in the her failed wrestling promotion. Blade always secretly pining for being back in the ring again even when she was signing new talent to do the wrestling for her, and she was thrilled to see that not much has changed since she last donned her wrestling booty shorts.

"U-E-HARA!!!...U-E-HARA!!!..."

And Blade thought of no better opportunity to debut her top secret finisher then by nailing it upside this pretentious maid's smug face, the Aerial Artist nimbly hopping up to the top rope once Misaki was vertical again...though Blade's face grew pale when she saw Misaki dart towards the rope and jostle them with one well-placed superkick. Making them shaky, wobbling, gyrating-

*ShitShitShit!!!* Blade internally cussed as she struggled to keep her balance by wildly flailing her arms in her failed bid to prevent the inevitable. A sudden trip and fall than having Blade's midsection collide with the top rope, leaving her abdomen pinched by the tethered rope she was now hanging limply upon. What little breaths she chortled out being strained and ragged as she scrunched her face from the pinching pain in her gut...

The ropes wibbled and wobbled and gravity betrayed Blade once again. Fitting.

Maiden, unlike her employer, was never one to stand by cackle maniacally after felling a foe, but she nearly - quite nearly - did so when she saw Blade fall in such an indignified fashion. It was supremely satisfying, knowing that her foe had been planning such a grand, high-flying move, and she had wrecked it with one quick, simple move. A more sage woman would learn from her mistake and take heed, correct her fighting style appropriately, but she knew Blade well enough - she’d give her the same openings, time again. She was too stubborn to learn and adapt.

In this moment, however, Maiden had a golden opportunity, as Blade found herself hanging on the ropes like dirty laundry on a clothesline.  The crowd booed her, as if she’d done something wrong instead of merely taking advantage of her opponent’s bravado. Of course. As usual, the masses demeaned intelligence and championed impulsivity.

”Hmph.” With a quick upward turn of her nose, she turned to Blade, stepped forward and went back on the attack, swinging her leg upwards with a snap kick, looking to hit her square in the chest - the one she’d gotten a far closer look of than she could have ever wanted - and knock her off the ropes and onto the floor below.

Okay. Maaaaaaaybe attempting a finisher she only pulled off in practice bouts with glorified jobbers wasn't the most sound strategy she had ever concocted. The caveat of feeding off her emotions and the thrill of the moment being that you could be flying high on adrenalized intensity one second, and the next second your flight could end with you crashing and burning in spectacularly embarrassing fashion...  

Blade now having plenty of time to lament her rotten luck as she limply hung atop the tethered rope that was still jostling in vibrations from her failed finisher attempt. Hanging there like a sagging T-shirt on a clothing line was embarrassing enough without letting onto the booing audience surrounding her that she was well...kinda, sorta stuck. Her sputtered breaths barely coughed out as she began maneuvering her gloved hands onto the top rope towards her sides in the preambles of shoving herself upward to dislodge herself from the rope pinching into her gut.  

Unfortunately, Blade would receive unwanted help in this endeavor. By means of a horrendously stiff boot smacking her directly into her modest boobs. The thunderous impact echoing throughout the stadium and earning plenty of wincing groans for the sagging former W.A.

"Gah!!! MOTHERF-!!!" Blade blurted out after recoiling off of the ropes from the sheer momentum of the cocked back punt, the Aerial artist flopping backwards to a seated position on the apron while reflexively clamping onto the ropes during her tumbling decent backwards. A grumbling Blade taking a stumbling few steps before collapsing to her knees on the outskirts of the ring, her face wincing sharply from the burning sting in her boobs which she was now shielding with her right arm.

The crowd was, of course, none too thrilled to see Maiden dethrone their little heroine, even though her current situation was all her doing. Why was she the villain in this situation? She had been perfectly willing to not say a single peep to Blade, to have their match like two proper ladies and not make it personal, but the urchin just had to open her mouth and get the ball rolling. She supposed it was to be expected of such ruffians - the same lowly class that never seemed to appreciate Lady Bettencourt’s great works.

So be it. Let them boo. Maiden was the one standing with her head held high, as Blade tumbled to the floor, and that was all that really mattered.

With a contemptuous toss of her, Maiden dropped to her side and rolled out of the ring, coming down behind her ragamuffin of an opponent. She grabbed a pair of handcuffs as she went, clutching them tight as she came up behind Blade.

There would be no count outs in this match, and while she generally loathed taking a fight outside of the ring, the opportunity couldn’t be ignored. She came up behind Blade, grabbed a handful of that messy hair, then lashed out with a fierce knee into her back, making sure the point of it hit right in the middle of her spine.

"Watch your language." And a brief scolding, to top it off.

Skillful backstage editors would ensure that fans watching at home would only hear a brief drop in audio in place of Blade's profanity infused tirade. Not that the backstage tech crew could do much to mask Blade mouthing the words or the anguished look on the Aerial Artist's face after she collapsed to the outskirts of the ring, which also told the tale of how much stinging pain she was in as she staggered briefly before collapsing to her knees.

Whether or not Blade was being exactly PC at the moment was most definitely the farthest thing on her mind as she scrunched her face and shielded her aching boobs. Lamenting her botched aerial finisher by the hands of the prissy maid in such a humiliating fashion easily took precedence, but even that wouldn't last long before she snarled from having her head tugged back and having a stabbing knee rammed into her spine.    

"Ahhagh!!!" Blade shouted out while wincing in pain, her spine arching outward with her modest chest puffed out from the ramming knee strike. One that would have had Blade flop to the ground if not for the clenching fistful of hair keeping her upright. Blade's hands now feverishly clamping and pawing at Misaki's wrist for any semblance of relief she could attain from her scrambling movements. All while politely retorting to the frilly maid behind her.

"Why dont' ya fucking make me, or do ya need yer master's permission first?!"

In a broader sense, it occurred to Maiden how futile it was to berate Blade over her vulgarity. Friction was hardly a familiar friendly show, and there was little that her fellow Angel could do to tip the scale in one way or the other. She didn’t even know if they were being censored or not. Such rules were always a bit iffy in Japan.

Regardless, decorum was an important thing to maintain, and the true test was displaying it when one wasn’t being forced. A fact she intended to impress upon Blade in the most direct manner possible.

To her opponent’s credit, she stayed strong where others might have faltered, even after the knee had to rattle her spine to the core. Blade was tough, there was no denying that, though how much of that came from her sheer pigheadedness remained to be seen. ”A real maid doesn't need to be told to take out the trash.”

With that said, Maiden decided to indulge in something a tad rougher than she usually went for, but something that Blade surely deserved. With her hold on the ragamuffin’s hair secure, she marched her over to the apron, lifted her up, and attempted to slam her face into the apron, hoping to leave her opponent dazed from the hellacious blow. Perhaps overly aggressive and uncouth, but she was determined to win this match, and even more determined to not lose it to Blade, of all people.

While snarky, spiteful, profanity-laden comebacks may not have been the most prudent usage of Blade's time and energy, talking smack was pretty much the most rebellious act she could muster after getting her spine drilled in. Blade's spark of defiance was still flickering as brightly and passionately as ever, though it's only venue to express itself was through her sharp tongue and knack for letting the four letter words fly when she was pissed.

Blade just really wished she could have been reminded in a less agonizing way that this stuffy maid's wrestling forte was smacking you around with precision strikes that were way more powerful than someone wearing a frilly skirt had any right having. Enduring all of these punts and kicks for much longer was a tall order, but still manageable. But what was really becoming intolerable was Misaki's pretentious, holier-than-thou bullshit commentary. They were Maiden's words, of course, but Blade could only hear Beauty Ichigaya's pompous voice spouting them off...

"You shut yer goddamn-hagh!!" Blade snarled out before unwillingly following along with the tugging strain on her scalp, now stumbling forward with a wincing face that would be slammed into the hardest part of the ring. Her scruffy-haired head being brutally plastered into the flattened surface with a definite lack of equilibrium being evident in her wobbly legs. Blade than began to reflexively use her right hand to make sure her nose wasn't bleeding as she turned her head to the side, the Aerial Artist still knocked senseless with not much going on upstairs in her rattled noggin except for how much she hated being smacked around by this prissy handmaiden.