SS 19 Blade Uehara vs. Beauty Ichigaya

It was funny how being in pain could make one wish for and long for the past moment where they had pleasure. Squeezing Blade had truly been an enjoyable experience, one that she wished she could’ve indulged in longer. It had been far, far too long since she’d had the chance to crush a foe against her chest, and few bodies felt as satisfying brushing against her own. Just the right amount of muscle and fat, a perfect ratio…

”You have no idea…” Beauty muttered under breath, as she shook her head to clear a few errant hairs out of her vision - always a nuisance, particularly when she worked up a sweat, which was starting to happen. It was always equal parts amazing and annoying that a woman like Blade could push her this far, but she had to concede, the little rat had a way of bringing out the beast in her...something she would once again regret, soon enough.

She was just starting to regain her bearings when Blade came over and snatched them away, gripping her in a tight hold with those scrawny arms of hers. The next thing the blonde knew, she was hauled over and dumped on the announcer’s table, which wouldn’t have been that big of a problem...if she hadn’t taken several smacks in the face to go along with it.

For her size, Blade could hit shockingly hard, and it was enough to leave Beauty dizzy for the moment. Just a moment, though….

Traveling around the world due to her banishment from the Japanese wrestling scene thanks to this narcissistic piece of work meant that Blade was rather well-traveled. And therefore managed to recognize the language being blurted out by the two commentator's currently running for cover while taking their water bottles and note papers with them when Blade started splaying out Beauty atop their table. God...why did Ichigaya have to be so infuriatingly heavy. As if having an "ample" build, flawless skin, and perfectly trimmed eyebrows wasn't already more than enough to earn Blade's paranoid ire. Luckily, that meant for Beauty having a satisfyingly punchable face...which Blade did go to town with. Shunting her fist into that high-class mug...    

...until relenting on both her spiteful punches and her snug headlock in weary fatigue, allowing Ichigaya to languish upon the "Mandarin" announcer's table. "...*pant*...think I have some idea." Blade muttered out while slumped atop Beaut's royally abundant breasts, before rising off, rocketing her hand into the air and pointing her index finger skyward to signal what was coming next. Fans of high-flying insanity hollered out in goosebumped excitement as Blade started sauntering over towards the nearest corner ringpost. A task she'd performed countless times to perform feats of aerodynamic insanity that never grew old throughout her entire career. Once perched she'd turn in place to start eyeing her target for what was going to be one helluva moonsault.

While Beauty had been too stunned to move initially, the little urchin had given her some precious moments to recover, and with time came clarity. Namely, she was able to restore enough sense to string thoughts together and apply basic logic.

She was on a table.

She couldn’t tell where Blade was.

However, Blade was infamous for jumping off things and landing on people to hurt them.

So, if she wasn’t attacking her at the moment, it probably meant that she was climbing up high so that she could jump down and smash Beauty into the table that she was now laying on. So, with that in mind, the buxom blonde put together an intricate strategy to counter Blade’s assault, a cunning plan that would throw a wrench in her plans before they even got off the ground - figuratively and literally.

She moved.

Or, to be more specific, she rolled off the table, got to her feet, and started stumbling away, knowing that, wherever Blade was at the moment, she’d just messed up her trajectory. She would have to move around to draw a bead on her, which would give Beauty precious time to recoup. Perfect.

...also, she couldn’t help but notice the audience was booing her, as if they were mad that she moved. What, did they expect her to just lay there and take it for their amusement? Idiots.

Considering an infantile Blade had been ascending tall structures since before she even had the whole "walking" thing down, it was safe to say that all of this came as natural to her as breathing. She lived for the thrill of moment's just like these, all eyes fixated on her as if the world's spotlight was illuminating this sole moment in time. Blade continued climbing, feeling the adrenaline pumping throughout her the higher she scrambled upward. She'd already made all the preparations like a list of tasks being checked off. Calculating the trajectory...already knowing what aerial maneuver she was going to attempt...socking Beauty a few times to keep her stunned and docile...and cause it felt freaking great. But now it was showtime. Blade reaching her summit...balancing herself on two feet with back her facing Beauty...taking a soothing breath before-

*Oh, wait...better make sure she's still there first...Doy...* Blade just than remembering that last task on her high-flyer checklist at the absolute last moment, smacking her forehead before taking a glance over her shoulder. Now spying the Beaut strolling around the ring without a care in the world. Well isn't that delightful~...Blade grinned devilishly before standing upright and performing her own personal tightrope act, arms stretched out to her sides to help keep her balance as she stealthily followed Beauty until she finally stopped and looked behind her. Nothing good coming from this act, aside from witnessing a spiraling Blade Uehara being sent flying directly towards her with a corkscrew moonsault from on high~...

There was a reason that Beauty rarely used the high-flying moves.

...aside from lacking the agility to pull off 99% of them, being awkward in the air because of her body weight and shape, having hair that made judging distance on targets difficult, and just generally not wanting to do anything that would make the sniveling rejects in the audience happy…

But, aside from all of that, she thought they could be quite ridiculous and easy to counter, something that she showed by her simple escape. It was a simple way to deal with such a move, but effective, and she could only hope that Blade would be foolhardy enough to attempt the move without looking. Even if she didn’t, she would still have to waste precious time in getting down and making her way over, time that she could use to recover. She was ready to see which result would happen, too, so eager that she turned about to watch.

Only to find Blade flying towards her, anyway.

Beauty squawked in surprise and raised her hands in an effort to try and catch Blade, but it was far too late - she came crashing down into her, bringing her down hard to the floor, landing hard with the hellion on top.

It was surprising how often that last step on her checklist has saved her from beefing it big-time onto nothing but empty announcer's tables or other equally unforgiving flat surfaces. But it was having the peace of mind to remember to adhere to these rules that Blade kinda flounders on, and is actually quite rare for her...guess today was Beauty's unlucky day. Being the high-flying daredevil that she was, Blade performed a bit of nimble tight-rope walking to impress the audience before going flying through the air with the greatest of ease, and landing with perhaps not as much graceful flair atop the Beaut's fancy-pants body.

"LET'S FUCKING GO!!!" Bellowed Blade upon springing back to her feet with a fist pump to an adrenalized pop. The Aerial Artist briefly feeling no pain but absolutely feeling herself as she went about slapping high-fives to all the fans cheering passionately by the barricade, making it even more abundantly obvious as to who the fan-favorite was here. Blade took a bit of time to compose herself and come down from the ecstatic high she always gets from nailing one of her best aerial maneuvers. She approached the fallen Beaut and tugged her back to her feet, keeping a hold onto her arm for an attempted Irish whip right into the ring apron.

It wasn’t enough for Blade to just hammer her with that attack, was it? No, she had to throw in her little cheer and get the masses further behind her. Not the least bit surprising.

Beauty groaned in equal parts frustration and agony as she wallowed on the floor, waylaid by the urchin’s airborne assault. The woman was an aggressive sort, no getting around that, and for the moment it was enough to keep Beauty off her feet. Blade took the time to grandstand after her success, slapping hands and gaining applause - irritating, but it did waste time. Time that she could use to recover, in due time…

Her opportunity came sooner than she expected, as Blade had the audacity to try and pick her up and hurl her with a hellish Irish Whip. It might have worked, too, if Beauty hadn’t slammed her feet down at the last moment, spinning about to turn the move on her foe and send her hurtling towards the ring in her stead.

Being a high-flyer meant risking life and limb with every maneuver you cook up, and nothing got your adrenaline pumping like nailing it perfectly to an ecstatic pop from your die-hard fans cheering you on in spite of the odds you were facing down. And Blade always felt that if you don't take the time to live in the moment and revel in what retired wrestlers still dream about feeling, than you're doing this whole wrestling business wrong. The Aerial Artist soaked in her admiration and went about attempting to Irish Whip the classless Beaut into the ring apron...

...which suddenly got reversed on her in a heartbeat, instead shooting the Okinawan into that same rather unforgiving surface. Blade's eyes narrowed and used that aforementioned adrenaline to mount a counter by leaping atop that ring apron instead, balancing herself and her huddled posture with her arms outstretched to her sides. Once she got her equilibrium settled, Blade attempted to spring herself backward and hopefully end up seating herself on Beauty's shoulders...and even more hopefully, attempt to thrust herself backwards for what will be a sick reverse Frankensteiner.

Fighting Blade was like trying to catch a cat. A sneaky cat, with ruffled hair, and a rude manner, who smelled vaguely of motor oil, but a cat all the same. She was agile, quick, and so light on her feet that she was able to turn any situation to her advantage at a moment’s notice - and such was the case, here.

Beauty thought she’d had the advantage when she spun the Irish Whip about, but no, the woman showed her superior agility, hopping on the apron and leaping back in an impressive display of agility. She landed on Beauty’s shoulders and tried to use that momentum to send her hurling back with a reverse Hurricanrana.

‘Tried’.

But instead of getting tossed, Beauty slammed her feet down, tensed her abs, and resisted the pull, killing all of Blade’s momentum in an instant with a pure display of power. And she wasn’t done there.

She gripped Blade’s ankles, jerked back, then threw her entire body forward with all the force she could muster, attempting to slam her face into the apron with an Inverted Alabama Slam. She even jumped as she did it, just to get a little extra impact

People liked to theorize about the particulars of what were to happen when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object. Grand notions would be hypothesized by people with obscenely higher I.Q.'s than Blade, but that doesn't mean the high-flying punk rocker didn't already have the answer. Which was that typically the force is proven to not be unstoppable, or it turns out the object was not so immovable. One side always gives in the end, to about a 50/50 ratio. And this time around the object was most assuredly proving herself immovable...

*Aw shit...* Blade coming to this terrifying conclusion as she dangled lifelessly upside-down behind Beauty after having her backward velocity stopped on a dime, captured in the statuesque aristocrat's clutches before she put all of that unnatural strength of hers to good/bad use. Blade wailed out with her arms raised from being propelled before having her petrified face smashed into the ring apron with ruthless authority and an uncomfortable sound that echoed through the arena. At first rebounding up to her feet, but with listless eyes and her head lowered before swaying to the side and collapsing to the floor spread-eagled.