Bashira Matsumoto vs. Masuyo Ai - Food Wars

What was that? About six or seven feet? Bashira would have to catch a replay at some point to better gauge the distance, but back in past wrestling federations she's been known to fling girls from one ring-post clear to the other. Her family used to live in the countryside, and to this day she holds the record in Japan for the Hay Bale Throw. She's got the Golden Hay Bale trophy on her television stand to prove her expertise in the rural feat of strength to prove it. As a matter of fact she's sometimes felt the need to hold back some of that strength when squaring off against pipsqueak opponents, or else she'd wind up getting fined again for gross negligence in regards to a performer's safety or whatever it was that eventually got her fired from her last wrestling gig. Luckily this General Manager seemed to be much more lax about that sort of thing, and was one of the smaller reasons why she signed on the dotted line in the first place.

The Bear-Woman slumped against the corner with a fatigued breath after putting Masuyo on a first class ticket with Bashira Airlines, arms holding onto the adjacent ropes as she took a break from the action herself. Being this massive meant taking time to rest up whenever you could, and Bash did just that with a swiping thumb against the side of her nose and her chubby cheeks puffed from all of her heavy panting. Biding her time as the noodle waitress started having her big, triumphant, overcoming the odds hero's moment or some crock of shit. Audience members rallied behind their valiant underdog, but Bash didn't see an underdog. All she see was deadmeat. "...and lookit where all that trainings gotten ya. Yer just some no-name, noodle slurpin, gym-rat of a mid-carder..." Bash began slowly striding towards the defiant maven, a bulging powerhouse with her fists clenched..."Just another hopeless loser dreaming of makin it big, when all yer good for is getting stepped over and stomped on us by us real talent!!!"...who'd break into a sprint to attempt to belly splash Masuyo against the corner turnbuckle behind her.

All she had to do was control her breathing. The impact was a million times worse than the searing burn along her bareback or the painful creak brought to her spine. She’d put herself through worse knocks years ago and ever since. In her burning conviction to become stronger than yesterday, the agony of the ‘now’ would burn away and fuel the Demon’s every step. That slightest hint of a smile across her face in this seemingly hopeless situation spoke volumes of just how well those fires were burning now. At one time, the words carried by Bashira’s booming voice would have cut her soul in two and afflicted her with the fatal sickness of self-doubt and regret. She would have faltered at the sight of a mad bull charging her down and the shockwaves beneath her feet.

That’s right. And those days were far behind her. AFW and jerks like Bash? They were going to prove just that.

An unusual spark of energy came through her. Only a few steps from collision and Masuyo brought her guard up close, locking her arms together as the ursine torpedo barreled towards her...and sidestepped. With almost minimal movement befitting an aikido prodigy, she let slower, oversized foe sail past her and smush her oversized stomach into the corner. The Demon didn’t want to wait to see how long she would remain stunned, if at all. She was already facing the ropes and quickly leaped a foot onto the middle, jumping off and throwing a high roundhouse kick straight over the turnbuckle into Bashira’s nice and pliable face.

Bashira had long since categorized Masuyo into that woeful and pitiful pigeonhole of day-dreaming pissants who aspire to be world champions, have their name promoted by major federations with leagues of fans cheering and buying all of their shitty merchandise, and who all come in by the truckloads every year. All of them deluding themselves into thinking they can all become world famous if they just trained their asses off...when the cold reality of the world dictates that only the cream rises to the top. Only a select few gifted and talented wrestlers make it to the top of the mountain, and Bashira was one of those chosen mountain climbers. And this frumpy noodle waitress could lift weights and crunch her abdomen all the live long day...she'll always just be another wandering midcarder flicking paper footballs in catering.

Three-hundred pounds of very pissed off Bear-Woman barreled onward with every intention of squashing this raven haired waitress against the corner turnbuckle. All in what was supposed to be a splash of truth in regards to Masuyo's lower card lot in life...as well as a splash of one rotund gut against Masu's toned figure. Bashira sucking her teeth with a scoff after colliding with nothing but jostled padding, briefly winded as she swirled around to face the aikido prodigy...and somehow managing to shield the side of her head from Masuyo's roundhouse kick with the bicep of her uplifted arm. "Fuck all your kicking shit!!!" One enraged Bear-Woman belted out before reached out to snag Masu's white top, and with that grip plus the one on her extended leg, would effortlessly haul the waitress up to a seated perch on the top turnbuckle. Bash rearing back to attempt one helluva wallop to Masu's abdomen...except her aim would be kinda off center, and instead be a thwacking crotch shot. By accident, of course.

This move wouldn't have looked out of the ordinary if they were in a cage. It was a flying kick, but since there wasn't a wall, the MMA maven used the rope to get some elevation.

Hers had a little more height than people usually expected. With someone as big as Bashira the math should have added up. But she was too slow. Getting thrown halfway across the ring hurt her more than the Demon let on and the effects showed with a shockingly simple deflection of her kick against Bash's meaty bicep.

The shock in her eyes spoke for itself before she was grabbed and slammed into a firm seat on the top turnbuckle. She reared a fist back to finish the job her kick should have started, but Bashira beat her to the punch in the worst way possible.

Masuyo felt her insides sink and fold in on themselves. Every breath was stolen from her, replaced by the sudden need to vomit. Her eyes slowly glazed down to the fist between her legs before her head slowly reared back to the ceiling. The world swiveled on a pin needle and left her to fall backward off the post. Her back hit the steel steps before she went rolling off to the floor, sprawled to one side facing the barricade. The crowd of jeers and insults hurled toward the ursine fighter did little for the pain that stabbed her all over and left her paralyzed on the ground.

Whoops...guess the sweat must have gotten in Bashira's eyes or sumthin, cause it seems like her walloping haymaker traveled a little south of the border there. The Bear Woman's white-knuckled fist ended up embedded in Masuyo's muff in the scant few seconds it took the MMA maven to register what had just happened, before reacting the only way someone could react in her non-existent shoes. Cause for concern being demonstrated by the downright nasty plummet Masuyo would take with a reverberating clunk off of the steel steps before tumbling towards the no more forgiving thinly padded floor. A ringside medical official adhering to recent concussion protocols by taking a knee besides Masu and offering her some wellness questions, while considerably less cordial questions were being hollered from inside the ring.

"Awww~...whassa matta? Can't take a lil' love-tap, honey?" The ursine brawler letting her faux concerns be known via her guffawing voice amidst all of the booing resentment being bellowed her way, Bash peering over the top rope with both hands gripped atop it. The whole world knowing full well what the gluttonous behemoth had perpetrated, but the referee couldn't signal for the disqualification since she had to duck down to avoid Masu being twirled and settled atop the turnbuckle, and henceforth missed the underhanded lowblow. "Jus stay down and go back to yer shitty ramen shop, Noodles...Ya ain't got no place bein here anyway!!!" Bash backpedaling and remaining inside the ring to the sounds of the referee continuing to countout the fallen maven, and the sound of rousing ovation encouraging Masu to continue the fight.

"...3!!!...4!!!!..."

“Masuyo!...Masuyo!...”

Keith couldn’t help but worry a little bit when he got little to no response from the raven-haired fighter laid out on the floor in front of him. He’d seen plenty of bad knockouts back in America, but AFW really did turn out to be a different beast from the UFC. What was that fall?! Ten feet?! Onto a steel edge?! She was lucky to still have a head for him to inspect, though that wasn’t saying much. He reached into the back pocket of his trousers and pulled out a small towel while his gloved hand moved closer for the inspection. She wasn’t bleeding from anywhere, miraculously. He could use a better look at her back, but his primary concern was her head. He leaned down and carefully reached out to peel one eyelid open, looking for any possible sign of activity that might-

“Get off.” The blonde boy’s heart jumped as he fell back on his butt, looking at the bewildering sight of the MMA girl slowly rising to her feet. She was slow to stand, clearly favoring balance in one leg that hadn’t taken the fall as bad. The rallying cry around her helped to bring Masuyo’s hunched form upright. Her pupils flashed to the ring and the rotund woman standing inside of it. Her eyes narrowed as she began the steady march to the edge, fire coursing through her veins.

“H-hey!” He stood up quickly and reached out to her. “You really should sit down for a second!”

The girl waved him off. The blonde boy stood bewildered. From behind, the Demon almost looked confident with her usual smile about her lips, but it was curiously absent the next moment as she raised her arm to climb back into the ring. She winced as her fingers grasp the rope. An uncomfortable weight was keeping her feet planted to the floor, begging her not to take another step. But an even more powerful force drove Masuyo to climb again with a steely resolve reflected in the sharp glare thrown Bashira’s way. Using the rungs as support, she slipped inside the ring and went to stand on two strong feet again.

HEY. Bashira wasn't here to make friends. Or be a benevolent spokeswoman for the league. Or be a wholesome role-model for your snot-nosed brats. You can take all of that righteous and virtuous crap and shove it right up yer ass. Bringing the pain and smacking bitches down was all she promised to do for this federation when she signed her name on the dotted line, and right now she felt a satisfying sense of accomplishment from having made good on those promises in this match tonight. There was a bit of a hushed silence in the arena after Masuyo's unsettling plummet before they'd change their tune to rousing support and encouragement. Not only because a count-out victory was a rather anticlimactic way to settle affairs, but because Masu had been cast into the role of harrowing underdog ever since the MMA maven first stepped into the ring and into the enormous Grizzly Magnum's crosshairs.

Bashira was unaware and uncaring towards whatever assistance was being facilitated to Masuyo outside as she cupped her chin and gingerly shifted it from side to side to make sure nothing was dislocated from Masu's lucky potshots. She leveraged one foot atop the bottom rope and leaned over the top as the Bear-Woman wisely rested and recuperated in a rare bit of actual strategy being thought up on her part. Bruisers of her size and girth needed to pace themselves or risk getting winded early. So why not take this opportunity to either earn herself an easy win just by standing around for ten seconds, or catch her breath and put the effort of getting back into the ring squarely on that noodle twat's shoulder's. She didn't give a fuck how she won, and by this point she felt she'd made her point clear about whose ring this was. Except that twirling around as Masu made it back inside the ring just under the buzzer had showed the beer-bellied beast that apparently, she hadn't made her point clear enough.

"Gotta be shittin me...actually jumpin back into the bear cage. Ah'll giv ya points for bravery...but you ain't gonna like what else ah'm bout to give ya..." Bash hocked a loogey to the side and started marching back towards Masuyo with shuddered trembles to the ring canvas with each encroaching step. Cinched in hands tugging the MMA maven back to her feet by her hair, with Bash reeling back one hand for one specially delivered walloping haymaker being attempted.

"You're fuckin' crazy!"

Maybe? It was clear that the man shouting behind her was just saying what everyone was thinking. After all, a rational person that just the kind of plunge Masuyo did would at least have second thoughts about stepping back into the same grizzly's pen they’d just been thrown out of. It was hard enough to walk straight, how exactly did the MMA girl expect to come out on top of this situation? Aching nethers aside, Masuyo liked to believe there was always a solution to any problem; an escape to every submission, and a weakness to every foe. It wasn’t as obvious with people like Bashira as it was with others, but so long as she never conceded, never stopped trying, it would show up eventually.

All it took was an opportunity and a bit of improvisation.

Masuyo was still working on the former. She was barely inside of the ring for a second, just enough to see Bashira’s feet stomp their way toward her and for Masuyo to throw a quick scowl up at her before a handful of the Demon’s hair forced her upright with a wince. Her hands quickly reached up to grab at the meaty hand keeping her suspended. She could guess what Bashira had in mind for her with the other one. Peeking from one eye just, Masuyo’s fears were confirmed when she could just catch a half-second of the wind-up for the walloping punch that was about to be thrown her way. More than a few tongues in the crowd kept to a chilling silence as they waited for the inevitable to happen.

The Demon girl smirked. Her hands went from the grip on her hair to Bashira’s lower arm and grabbed her forearm tight. Right as Bashira shot her haymaker, Masuyo leaped up and kicked her foot to meet the basher’s fist at the same point in the air. She aimed the bottom of her heel between the beast’s knuckles. Enough for a debilitating shock up the length of her arm and to hopefully bring Bashira off balance and loosen the grip on her head. If she got free, Masuyo would use the grip on her large adversary’s arm to pull her forward and throw her other arm across Bashria’s neck, sweeping one leg to the back of her knee to assist her ungraceful fall to earth with a tenchi-nage throw.

It may not have been feasible by any stretch of the imagination, but Bashira was intent on checking out...well having someone smarter than her, check out the small print in her contract to see if she got paid extra in situations like this. When the Bear-Woman was having to put in extra work whenever stubborn noodle twerps like this prime example were being thick-headed mules and didn't know when to stay...the hell...down. Lookit this scrawny little puke. Scurrying back into the ring and tryin to be the big fuckin hero, standing up towards the big bad bully. Well, Bashira didn't see any of that noble crap. All she saw was someone too brain-dead to read the writing on the walls, know when she's been beaten, and go back to cooking lukewarm noodles.

...whatever. It wasn't Bashira's job to talk people out of damn near killing themselves, anyway. Plus she couldn't deny having derived oodles of supreme satisfaction in seeing this weirdo flop and flail all around the ring, and generally begin to regret the life choices that brought her to that particular point in time of a massive fist clocking her right in the cooch. Bashira sneered maliciously in the big wind up, indeed looking forward to granting Masuyo's wish of continuing to be Bash's personal punching bag. Sometimes you just gotta keep hammering in the lesson until it finally sticks, but before the gavel could be slammed down, the Bear-Woman's punch was intercepted by the bottom of the MMA maven's bare foot. The impact reverberating throughout Bash's muscled arm which recoiled backward with a wincing snarl.

"GahDamn-!!!" Bashira growled out from the sudden collision of one strike to another, a grating nuisance of a counter that would have normally had her backing up a few steps. Were it not for it being impeded by Masuyo snapping one leg behind Bash's and tugging forward on the Beast's arm that seemed awkward to watch, but had the intended and jarring effect of toppling the considerably overweight competitor until her back hit flush with the canvas. A quaking ripple effect reverberating throughout the ring to coincide with the stunned gawking from everyone in the stadium. Bashira huffing out a gust of air from having the wind knocked out of her air before beginning to gingerly start the arduous and prolonged process of getting back up. First to a flinching seated position, than attempting to roll herself over to start hauling herself back up if uninterrupted.

Masuyo had been a city girl her entire life. Scraping pennies since she was old enough to walk, the noodle shop girl could only imagine the open countryside full of majestic sights and fearsome beasts. This was easily the closest she would ever get to take on a savage beast bare-handed.  Bashira was like a wild boar stuck inside human skin. She thrashed and threw her weight all around the ring without a second thought. The way she fought low to the ground and charged ahead at even the smallest provocation. That would have been something out of a nightmare when she was younger. Smaller. The kind of prey a monster like Bash would have loved to rip to shreds.

Size meant nothing to the MMA maven now. If anything, all that extra weight Bashira was so eager to hurl at her one-hundred percent That was what made bringing her to the ground seem so effortless. That, and a couple of thousand hours of rehearsed katas.

But you didn’t need training for what came next. Heck, everyone saw it coming, but that didn’t stop them from rallying behind the Demon’s sudden control over the momentum. Seeing the ursine menace flatten to the floor filled the arena with a round of whoops and hollers. Masuyo didn’t wait for Bashira to get the chance to breathe let alone get her head on straight. As soon as she saw her sitting back up, she lunged straight ahead and leaped, shooting a flying knee into the face between those puffy cheeks.