Koyuki Sanada vs Sara Connor - Blood and Steel

A part of Koyuki wanted to ask Sara to repeat it nicely, to use mind her P's and Q's as she tried again. Or better yet, make her say it in Japanese. Watch her stumble over the world's greatest language in her uncouth, English-addled tongue. But no, Koyuki was mostly just disappointed. She thought Sara might have traded her hand before she gave in to such humiliation. She thought the fire in her burned a little brighter than that. But at the end of the day, this was all Sara Connor had in her.

Koyuki shook her head, removed her foot from Sara's destroyed hand, and stepped over her to position herself on Sara's left. She nudged her over with her foot with surprising gentleness, almost like a momma dog flipping a puppy on its belly, and then pressed her foot onto Sara's wounded belly. She stared into Sara's eyes, letting the moment soak in, while she contemplated how exactly she was going to choke the living daylights out of her.

And she decided to go with the simplest one of all.

A second foot planted itself on Sara's abs, as Koyuki walked onto Sara and planted one of her feet onto her throat.

And then she began to grind it in.

This wasn’t over.

Even now, as she laid on the floor in a growing puddle of her own sweat, saliva and blood, Sara was already thinking of the ways she was going to even the score with Koyuki. There was going to be a rematch. It would happen after, bare minimum, a month of rehab and physical therapy, but it was going to happen. She wasn’t sure what the time or place would be, but she was going to make it happen, and then she was going to tear this bitch apart. She’d take her time, get her down, strip her and break her bones, one at a time. Grind her into the dust, hammer her into the mats, pummel her away until, until, until...

...wait, what was she doing?

Sara tensed up at the sudden weight on her body, as Koyuki’s bar foot pressed into her. At first, she thought the woman was going to some kind of victory pose, but that was clearly shown to not be the case when her foot came up, traveling towards her throat, getting close. ”What the fuck?“ She groaned, hissed, gritted her teeth. ”What the fuck are you-“

The answer to that question was made abundantly clear, as Koyuki’s foot pressed against her throat and delivered the full weight. Pressing. Screwing down. Twisting. Choking. Underneath her, all Sara could do was reach up and weakly paw at her ankle. That and glare.

Both of which faded and faded and faded until…

She was out cold. Still. Unmoving. Defeated.

To Sara Connor, that final minute was an excruciating grip of pure, agonizing pressure as Koyuki Sanada did everything in her power to drill her heel through Sara Connor's throat. She had no actual intention to choke her out, she simply wanted to see whether she could fracture her trachea before Sara drifted off into an oxygen-deprived sleep. Alas, the structure of her throat had more grit in it than the woman itself.

To Koyuki Sanada, on the other hand, that last minute putting Sara down was spent in self-reflection. The American was done. Koyuki had won long before she got Sara on the ground, and she didn't even bother to look at her past the opening seconds of throat crushing.Her mind and her eyes wandered elsewhere, and if one were to take Koyuki's expression on its lonesome, it might as well have looked like she was impatiently waiting for her laundry to finish at the dry cleaner's.

As the action wound down and the adrenaline began to fade, Koyuki's state of mind could be summed up in one word:

Tired disappointment.

Not in Sara. She fought well, she fought right up to the last breath, and above all else, she did not surrender when prompted. Those were all admirable qualities. The fact that she was born a caucasian sow from the tainted Americas was an unfortunate and cruel twist of fate, but she rose above her stunted upbringing by pushing Koyuki hard and fast. No, the disappointment of Koyuki Sanada was solely aimed at Koyuki Sanada. She let a girl smaller than her, lighter than her, with lesser reach than her push her far past the threshold she was comfortable with. She wasn't happy with her performance and, paradoxically, there was a satisfaction to that disappointment. Her little stint into this AFW started as a cheap whim to satisfy some proxy grudge with a rival group, but she didn't dislike actually getting to piush herself again, to test her martial limits.

There might -might- yet be some merit to this.

She stared down. Sara was down and out. Motionless. Just to be safe, Koyuki stomped on her face one last final crunching time, and then lifted both her feet off Sara's face and abs. She gave her a stiff bow, a respect she accorded to a defeated foe who gave her all, picked up her jacket, tied up her hair, and walked right out of the warehouse without a second glance. The medics rushed past her as she exited and the shouting and scampering told her that Sara's condition wasn't ideal.

She felt neither guilt nor worry for Sara's condition. If she made it back in one piece, she was happy to answer her challenge again.