Kasumi Tanimoto vs. The Black Belt Demon - The Art of Self-Loathing

Match Type: Standard Match
Victory Conditions:Victory by pinfall, submission, or knockout.

”Come on, up top, one two!”

Makoto threw another couple of punches into Aisha’s pads, nailing them with a decent jab-straight combination.  They weren’t anything to write home about, if she were being completely honest - she was throwing better punches when she was half the Judo Babe’s age. Still, considering how flat out shitty of a striker Makoto had been in Rumble Rises, ‘mediocre’ was a big-time improvement.

Since Makoto had finally wisened up and started working with Anesthesia, Aisha had been put in charge of correcting the judoka’s big flaw, working on her punching skills, the best striker in their former league teaching the absolute worst. It hadn’t been easy, especially since the little punk was developing an attitude now that she’d taken up this whole ‘Black Belt Demon’ persona, but they were finally seeing some progress, too. A good thing, because she had a match tonight, and not against just any old opponent.

Now they were waiting for the call to come out, hanging around in the gorilla position as Friction ran its commercial break. Just doing warm-ups, but Makoto insisted on going hard, even for that. Part of that whole Olympic work ethic that she’d developed over the years, most likely.

”All right, all right, that’s enough.” Aisha backed away as Makoto landed a hard right hook, hitting dead center on her pads. ”Getting better. Just got to work on the follow through, getting your whole body into each punch. Lower body, remember to-”

Makoto waved it off and stepped back in a huff, arms folded. ”Yeah, yeah, I know.” She grunted and stepped back to the curtain, taking a moment to peak outside and view the crowd. ”You and Anesthesia need to stop treating me like a little girl, okay? I’m not the same as I was back in Rumble Roses.”

That brought a scoff out of Aisha as she tossed the pads away, nearly smacking a stagehand who’d been walking by at the worst time. ”Trying to fucking to help you out, damn.” She made her way over to Makoto’s side, hands on hips. As much as she would’ve liked to leave now and just let Makoto do her thing, sink or swim, she knew she’d never hear the end of it from Anesthesia if she did. ”Just stay focused on the match. You want to prove your hot shit? Go out there and do it.”

Makoto was about to respond to that when she heard her music start up, and the stagehands gave her the cue - it was showtime. ”Pfft. Just watch me.”

Together, they made their way down the ramp, keeping their heads held high and their gazes forwards as the audience voiced their vociferous disapproval. It wasn’t anything surprising. Aisha had been out of the fans’ good graces for years now, and a lot of longer time fans felt betrayed by the path Makoto was choosing, spitting on all the values she’d once held dear.

It didn’t matter. The Black Belt Demon wasn’t paid to make the fans happy. She was here to win, and she had every intention of doing that tonight and every other night from here on in by any means necessary.

Making her way into the ring, she promptly walked over to her corner with hands on hips, then turned to lean against it as she stared at curtain. Waiting for her opponent to arrive.

Her very special opponent.

Ichi, ni, san. Inhale.
Ichi, ni, san. Exhale.

Strict instructions that have been ingrained in her mind, Kasumi was focusing much on her breathing, the traditional seiza position that is most common in Japanese martial arts. Meditation was something that Kasumi frequently used when it came to her bouts. It calms down the nerves, eliminates any butterflies that might be hidden inside her stomach. The last thing that the woman needed was to be nervous, not just for her debut but for all matches. Let your mind be clear, steeled and fear bestowed. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t performed before a crowd of people. Countless tournaments have given her the experience to block out such distractions and focus on the match. It’s not so much the audience that she has to worry about, it is herself. Moreso not to be carried away when it comes to her opponent. A very special opponent, indeed.

Considering it had been some time since Kasumi had signed the papers to be an official talent of AFW, it seemed as if the powers that be were planning something more…exciting this time around. Management likes their dream matchups, and when they found out they had two Olympic judokas in their roster, this match had to be done. However, they were not going the full nine yards on this one. No tatami mats like you’d see in judo competitions, all replaced with a ring. Which perhaps made sense considering the kind of person Kasumi is facing.

Truth be told, Makoto Aihara was partly the reason as to why she wanted to get into wrestling, seeing a fellow judoka inside a wrestling ring, despite the lack of success she has found there, was inspiring to say the least. They had shared the same beliefs and principles and despite her somewhat getting involved in the hot and sensual aspects of female wrestling, that was given a pass. Even someone like Kasumi wouldn’t be as strict and straight. But that was then, not now. She wasn’t going to face the kind, sweet, happy gold medal grappler…she was facing someone much different.

“Ms Tanimoto. You are up.”

Kasumi’s eyes opened as soon as the stagehand came by. Without the need of hands, Kasumi hopped to her feet from sitting position, the stagehand a little bit shook at that display, the judoka gave the nod, with a stern look too. Walking to the curtain, Kasumi was all business tonight. Especially for the one who calls herself “Black Belt Demon”.

Through the darkness came a flash of red and white lights, the sound of the koto accompanying the debut of the woman passing through the curtain. She was still relatively new so no massive pop for her, but since she wasn’t someone that turned on the fans, the crowd sided with her this match. Truth be told, it was somewhat lovely having the group on your side. Makes her first time stepping into the AFW ring a welcome one. A pure wave and a slight smile are all she could offer at the moment, Kasumi wasn’t someone that is all song and dance, but she felt to give something to show appreciation. Making her way into the ring, Kasumi would bow to the four corners of the ring and then to her opponent. Despite Makoto not upholding the same values as she does, she is still a professional.

Kasumi came out soon enough, with the crowd all too eager to throw praise at her, ready to fawn over their new starlet. Makoto almost - almost - felt a little bad for the new girl. She’d been here before, had the crowd cheering her on, been the darling girl. They would smile and cheer and sing her praises for now. But soon enough, they’d be laughing as she got torn apart in the ring, getting their rocks off while some horny bitch went at her. That’s how it had been for her, and that’s how it would be for Kasumi - she was just this year’s new model as far as the crowd was concerned. ”Tch. Pathetic.” Makoto looked on and sneered as Kasumi made her way around the ring, bowing to the audience like a good judoka before she finally made her way over to the center. Obedient. Calm. Professional.

Makoto could puke.

And, of course, Aisha wasn’t about to let this go. ”Well, shit, look at this.” She stuck her head in under the bottom rope with her elbows planted on the canvas, looking between the two judokas with a playful smirk, barely containing her laughter. ”Like looking into a damn mirror.”

The Black Belt Demon rolled her eyes at that, ignoring the jests, but Sista A wasn’t too far off. She and Kasumi were similar height, similar build, similar just about everything. If they’d been closer in age, it was likely they would’ve competed at the same Olympics. On paper, they were evenly matched. Makoto knew better, though.

She didn’t say anything, because nothing really needed to be said. When the bell rang, the Black Belt Demon lowered into her stance and began to circle around Kasumi, watching carefully to get a read on the woman. She juked forward a couple of times, trying to tempt her foe into moving, faking her out, but didn’t go for anything big. Not yet.

Kasumi could probably summarise as to what exactly made her bitter. What made her shun the values she once held dear. Even still, despite the humiliation she had received, Kasumi still respected the fact that she still had dignity. She could keep her head high and rise above it. Just a shame that she broke and stopped resisting the tide. But the toughest paths require the strongest of wills.

The Black Belt Demon perfectly showed the kind of person Kasumi could be if she falters and loses her way. A mirror sowing an alternative reflection. That wasn't going to be her portion. She won't make the same mistakes. And she will show that she's stronger than she is for holding the most sacred of values.

Sista A was the one to thank for bringing such a comment. The Japanese woman was apprehensive as to why she's here, hopefully nothing that brings trouble for her. She gave a quick glance her way before returning to The Black Belt Demon. Right before the bell would ring. Good timing.

The battle commences, both stepping out of their respective corners, Kasumi settled into her grappling stance. A more proper stance that many have seen during the Olympics. She stayed calm, saying silent towards the despised woman standing before her. Makoto juked around, already going for the feint tactic straight away. The only thing that would move would be her arms. Reaching out, but not in a way that she's overstretching. Am attempt to catch the lapel or the sleeves, simple judo tactics that she's falling onto. But Kasumi would edge in slightly, sliding her taped feet along the mats. She was committed to staying where she was, not overcommitting to something just yet. There was still time to feel her opponent out.

Kasumi hadn't said a single word to her, and Makoto already hated her. That had to be some kind of world record, and to be honest, it wasn’t even the woman’s fault. It wasn’t just that this woman was a living embodiment of everything that had ruined her life, but she was also reminding Makoto of other things. Things she’d long since forgotten, even before her  eyes had opened. Makoto had made little feints like this all the time, and 99% of the time they worked. Even seasoned wrestlers like Miss Spencer could fall into traps like this, and she would take advantage and get them on the mats with ease. It was the sort of thing that women without her training fell prey to, all too easily, and she was expecting it to work this time out of sheer habit.

But no. No, Kasumi was too good for that. Baiting her into mistakes was clearly not going to work, and to make matters worse, she didn’t initiate anything. Nearly half a minute went by and the two of them hadn't touched yet, getting the predictable ‘boring’ chants from the audience, not to mention commentary from the peanut gallery.

”Will you two fucking fight already?” Sista A slapped her hands on the apron. ”Come the fuck on!”

There was a reason her Olympic matches didn’t exactly draw in huge ratings. Annoying as it was, they were all right - Makoto needed to do something, or they’d be staring at each other all day. Time to kick things off.

She threw out another fake, moved back, then moved in again, this time with real intent. Pushing into a grapple, she tried to move her right leg behind Kasumi’s and toss her to the side, attempting to sweep her and bring her to the floor fast.

Traditional martial arts have its own kind of fans and spectators. There’s a different kind of feel when competitors step in the tatami for a proper sanctioned battle that test one’s skills in a particular discipline. Not only that, there was a particular kind od pacing when it comes to matches. When even a point can decide if you win the gold medal or not, one cannot be hasty and make mistakes. You have to keep your cool, treat the match as a chess game and use each piece to win. A match can end in a flash if one isn’t careful and Kasumi was wise to keep her wits together.

However, pro wrestling isn’t martial arts. When the latter focused more on tradition and technicality, the former was all about showiness and glamour. And there is a reason why even Olympic judo isn’t the most casual-friendly of matches to watch. It’s the same phenomenon when it comes to defensive-minded bouts. It’s not seen as exciting. Its not car crash violence. You’re not doing 10 flips off the turnbuckle, 20 superkicks and 5 tope suicidas. It requires a different mindset. One that the crowd simply do not have. Especially the golden-clad woman at ringside, Kasumi giving a passing glance at before her gaze went back at Makoto.

That’s not to say that a competitor can’t be inactive, with referees penalizing the most egregious of offenders for not pushing the pace. One of them had to break the stalemate and it might as well be Makoto. Reasons that she’ll soon see later.

She came in on Kasumi, after a few feints of course before they came into a grapple. This is where things really begin and people can see the glory of judo. Even with the change to a darker persona, there was no denying that her skill hasn’t diminished. Engaging in the grapple, Kasumi could sense the leg that came from behind. Considering she is a black belt, there were options the red-clad judoka could go for in response. What did come to mind was with Kasumi’s hand gripping the side of her belt, pushing her hips forward to meet with the side of Makoto’s hip before lifting the Black Belt Demon, hoisting off her feet, lifting one of her legs to counter hers. The drop would be painful, but a black belt like Makoto at least knows how to break her fall. Otherwise the Ushiro Goshi would hurt like hell.

Old feelings were returning to the Black Belt Demon as she squared off with Kasumi, and a few small doubts, too. It had been so long since she’d been in anything resembling an actual judo match with a real opponent. Did she still have all the proper tools for this fight? Age wasn’t exactly on her side here, and she’d picked up so many bad habit in the past few years. If she wasn’t careful, if she wasn’t attentive…

No. No, she didn’t want to think about it. It like Anesthesia told her, she had to be confident. If she didn’t believe her own ability, if she didn’t have faith in herself, how the hell was anyone else supposed to.

So she came in confident, strong, and for a moment thought she had her foe with a good start. That didn’t last long, however, as Kasumi showed her expertise. A shift in weight, altering their positions, moving the right way at the wrong time, and the Black Belt Demon was the one who went rolling, growling in frustration as she went rolling.

Reflexes took over and she went into the roll, tucking her body in so that she came down her back and followed through, getting back to her feet quick and taking the fall as best she could. She moved in quick from there and reached out for Kasumi’s leg, trying to pull it in close before her foe could get away, hoping to maintain a tight grip on the crucial limb.