Lions and Dragons

‘A nice girl’.

Yeah, sure. And so was Elizabeth Bathory.

That wasn’t to say that Jack didn’t like what he was seeing. While it was certainly true that this wasn’t good for his side of things, it was still quite entertaining. If nothing else, it was giving him a wealth of things to throw at Key when the time came to tick her off, and he couldn't lie - all that grinding and squeezing and thrashing in that oil was starting to have natural, predictable effects on his lower anatomy. He hid them well, though, crossing his legs to keep things closed.

As Masuyo pointed out, though, that wasn’t the only thing he needed to be thinking about, though, and his eyes shifted to see what she meant - sure enough, Lock seemed to be at the edge of her rope. ”Huh. That she does.”

She was a patient woman, most of the time. She had to be, considering who her companions were. Someone had to steer their ship and keep it from going off the rails. But there were limits to everything, even her patience, and that limit was right around the place where some crazy Yakuza bitch made out with her while she crushed her like a tin can. All at once, it was just too much to take, and she was putting one foot in front of the other and bolting forward, heading straight towards Koyuki with the full intention of kicking her head off…

…and disqualifying herself, if there was such a thing in an underground Yakuza oil pit fight. Jack wasn’t of a mind to find out. ”Switch!”

"Switch!"

Koyuki wasn't sure what was going to come first: the blonde jumping right in as she ate Ophelia up or the white boy's signal to pussy out and switch. As it turned out, the answer was both at the same time. The blonde was cool as a cucumber but Koyuki had tested, prodded, and poked away at her patience, and it seemed even that ice-cold facade had its limits. She moved fast, making a beeline for the conjoined embrace of Koyuki and Opehlia. Koyuki's response was viciously planned out. As much effort and energy was squandered on the bear hug contest for the sake of breaking Ophelia's pride, it would pay dividends here to see the blonde's reaction as she broke off the hug with the weakened and dazed Ophelia, pluckered her lips off her victim, slipped an arm around Ophelia's throat while her other one gripped onto a hand, all while jerking Ophelia's body in the direction of the blonde-

And using her as a meatshield against the blonde's oncoming attack, wrangling her head in such a way so that if Ophelia struck without thinking, she'll slam a foot right into the redhead's already tender neck.

Regardless of whether the blonde pulled her foot in time or not, Koyuki would continue to hold Ophelia hostage. Ophelia herself wasn't putting up any resistance at all, making the whole thing child's play.

"Uh, Ko." came the ever-annoying voice of Masuyo-san. "That's against the rules!"

"Nope," Koyuki answered in Japanese. Fuck this Queen's English nonsense. She was done accomodating their linguistic disabilities. "Just helping the loser back to her corner where she can rot."

"Oh Okay." It seemed Masuyo-san was satisfied. The subsequent chattering on the balcony was her explaining what was said to the white boy.

"And she's suffocating," Koyuki said, staring right at the blonde. No smirk, no sneer, just ice-cold nothing. She released the hand gripping Ophelia's own and brought it up to pat the vanquished Ophelia's cheek once, twice. Her breathing was shallow and hoarse; if she wasn't knocked out but she was just a step away from it. "Really ought to do something about it, no?" The hand went down to Ophelia's barely-clad chest, patted them once each, and then slipped behind her back to undo her bikini top. A moment later and Ophelia generous chest was laid bare to the world while Koyuki dangled up the top for all to see. Juvenile? Yes. But whatever the blonde was feeling was going to be nothing compared to what she felt now.

"I don't see you moving to the corner, Ko!" Masuyo-san shouted in Japanese. "If you wanna be a cheater, at least pretend!"

"Kay."

Koyuki would slowly edge towards the left side of the box, hostage in tow, her eyes on the blonde, thinking about the most painful way to deposit Ophelia out of the ring. Maybe she would slam her neck against the edge of the ring.

Lock moved fast during normal times, but her sprint towards Koyuki was doubly impressive given the current situation. It wasn’t easy to move at all in the oil, but running? By all rights, she should’ve gone sliding and wound up making an embarrassing fall. At best it would’ve made her look like an idiot, at worst it would’ve been an opening for Koyuki to come in and start ripping into her.

So it was a small miracle when, instead, she came in with her leg raised for a perfect kick, and managed to stop it at just the right second when Koyuki used Key as a human shield. She kept that leg up, too, balanced on the ball of her foot, chambering and ready to strike as her opponent moved away and spoke with Masuyo.

For Jack’s part, he could only make out the edges of the conversation Lock had been trying to get him to do some Japanese courses, but he’d half-skipped on them. He didn’t have much interest in Kyoto beyond Tension, and most of the people near the arena were either foreigners themselves or spoke enough English to pick him, a necessity since the area was such a tourist hotspot. If visitors had to pick between a store that spoke their language and a store that didn’t, they’d invariably pick the former.

So the little explanation from Masuyo was helpful. For Lock, however, it was unnecessary. She spoke the language well enough to pick it all up, and that made her seethe even more, especially with what came next. She brought her leg down and stalked around the retreating Koyuki, keeping her eyes focused on the woman’s face, even as she started to remove Key’s top. She was trying to bait Lock, clearly, but knowing that was the game didn’t exactly help her counter it.

She stayed close, though. Ready to pounce. Ready to strike. Keeping her anger in check, as best as she could. It couldn't be too much longer.

”You’re stalling.” Lock’s accent was, perhaps, a shade off, but she spoke in otherwise perfectly passable Japanese. Better than Koyuki spoke English, in her estimation. ”Just let her go and try your hand at me.”

There was a strange sense of relief to find out at least one of these foreign cows could speak fuckin' Japanese. To Koyuki, a fight was more than just physical fury. It was a matching of wills, a contest of both body and mind, and the verbal imposition of the mind game was often overlooked when fighting some white sow who managed to fly their way to Japan without so much as a simple 'arigato' memorized.

"How well did you think she did, number two?" Koyuki asked, letting the arm around Ophelia's neck reach up to nuzzle her short red hair. "Give your unga bunga savant buddy an objective assessment of how she did?"

"Far be it from me to ask you not to play with your food," Masuyo-san said from the balcony above. "But could you start eating? If you're going to taunt everytime you have an upper hand, we're gonna be here even after Kishida's out of office"

Koyuki angrily jerked her head to the side to stare at Masuyo. "Oh NOW you care about the time?"

"I care about pacing. Kick her ass but stop telling her how you're gonna kick her ass. No offense, Miss Heather." Masuyo said, tipping her glass her way.

Okay then.

Koyuki's hand snaked off Ophelia's neck, her hand let go of the redhead's - and then she shoved -practically tossed- Ophelia right into Heather, sending one defeated opponent right into the path of a soon-to-be-defeated one. On the assumption that Heather wouldn't be so heartless as to let her lover fall to the wayside, she would Ophelia on the back once Heather grabbed her, seeking to send them both down into the oil.

BlackAkuma — 09/15/2022 11:17 PM
The patient one. The smart one. The calm one.

Those were often the words used to describe Lock when it came to running down their little trio, and she took pride in them. In being the professional, in maintaining a level head and sifting through the emotional glut that they could’ve easily found themselves in if Jack, or heaven forbid, Key were the ones steering their ship.

That being said, she was willing to throw all of that away in this particular moment and let her baser instincts rule. Koyuki was doing a spectacular job of pissing her off. She knew that was the aim, she recognized the strategy, and it was working all the same. She took a deep breath to steady her heart as her partner twitched in the Yakuza’s grasp. Muscles tensed, fists clenched, but she didn’t close the distance. ”I think you dodged a bullet.” Her brow furrowed even further, creating deep creases. ”You won’t dodge another.”

As Koyuki and her boss had a quick dialogue, Lock took the time to edge her way closer, widening her stance for whatever came next. She couldn't be sure of what this woman’s next move would be, but given the sort of tone she’d set so far, it would be something extremely insulting and distracting.

And she was right.

Lock suspected Koyuki might use Key as a projectile, but knowing something was coming and handling it were two different things. She moved in on reflexe to catch her lover and put her down gently, and she even succeeded in that effort, but not without heavy cost. Her opponent was on her in the next instant, coming down quick with a heavy blow to her back, one that made Lock cry out in a mix of shock and rage. Mostly rage.

Distance. She needed distance. Throwing herself forward, she rolled over Key’s body and tumbled away, using the oil to quicken her retreat. Lock rose quick, quicker than most could in the substance, and brought her arms up in defense, suspecting that Koyuki wouldn’t leave the gap unfilled for long.

(As I thought! I actually wrote a response to that post way back, but kind of fell into my funk before I could post it. Luckily, I save everything.)

WhiteKami — 09/17/2022 11:04 PM
The angry one. The violent one. The one that showed up when heads rolled.

While Masuyo-san had a few captains running the show while she focused on the legitimate enterprises of the Kaitei-Gumi, only two of them were specialized in the bloody parts of the leading Yakuza presence in Tokyo: Koyuki Sanada and Kana Kiragakure…. And Kana, Koyuki mused, never ever ever ever got volunteered for this nonsense. While a gifted assassin and martial artist, she was not the best person in, uh, these kind of settings. So no, the bullshit fell to her to entertain.

And she was not done taking it out on these two.

As Heather rolled and slid and widened the distance between them, Koyuki really didn’t seem to be in a hurry to close the widening gap. Her approach was steady and firm, her feet finding a solid grip on the oil as she stared murder Heather’s way. She stepped onto Ophelia’s unconscious body on her warpath towards the blonde, her foot taking an extra second to grind viciously into her stomach. She lifted her foot to step over it… then backtracked. She stared at Heather, lifted her foot higher than she needed to, and stomped down onto Ophelia’s stomach.

Again and again and again, each stomp moving up slightly higher;  her upper abs, then her chest, then her collar. She never once broke eye contact with the blonde.

She wasn’t going to chase Heather. If the blonde wanted action, she was going to have to take the initiative before she tried her hand at the redhead's neck. (edited)

BlackAkuma — 09/19/2022 9:08 AM
Heather was fully prepared to take this woman head on. More than that, really - she was eager. While she was doing her best to keep it all contained, Koyuki was doing her level best to push all her buttons, and no surprise, it was a rousing success. While she might not have been as outwardly furious as Key, she was all of a mind to kick this bitch’s head clean off her shoulders, and she could already envision it happening.

But there was only a problem of her foe not complying. Instead of closing the distance and starting up the next phase, she stayed in place and brought her heel down on Ophelia.

Over.

And over.

And-

It wasn’t a smart move, Lock knew, but she couldn't sit idly by as this woman stomped her partner in the neck. While this wasn’t a deathmatch, she was under no illusions about the sort of people they were dealing with, even if Jack was pretending to be blase. Koyuki would do serious injury to Key in a heartbeat. Or worse.

She rushed in with a long stride, swung her leg low, then brought it back around high in a sweeping hook kick, aimed at Koyuki’s face, trying to make up for her forced frontal assault with a touch of deception.

WhiteKami — 09/19/2022 11:24 PM
That kick that landed square on Koyuki’s face was an entire encyclopedia on Heather.

Ophelia was a sluggish, easily baited brute. She fought with the finesse of a gorilla, moved like a linebacker, and threw her punches with the sloppy strength of an animal. She had the might to match Koyuki Sanada in a way that few women -and even most men her size- could ever hope to, but her technique was basic and rudimentary. Where strength was even, skill triumphed. Ophelia paid for her shortcomings with humiliating defeat.

But Heather…

Quite the opposite.

That kick had perfect form. She executed it perfectly on slick oil, inserting a deceptive feint that Koyuki might not have caught even if she wasn’t busy stomping. It landed in a wide arc that smacked Koyuki across the cheek, jerking her head to the side in a wild spray of oil and sweat, and gave Koyuki the truth of her:

She was no Ophelia. She could be bullied without being worn down.

And before the leg could retract, before Koyuki’s face could even swerve back, the Yakuza Captain’s arm whipped out to grab Ophelia’s leg, holding her in place, in that awkward position standing on one foot.

And like a fisherman, Koyuki reeled her in, pulling her closer and closer until her other hand was close enough to lash out and choke at Heather’s neck, trying to squeeze the life out of her as fingers dug into her throat while Koyuki stared on with an expression of quiet rapture, lips slightly parted, like a mantis chewing away at her prey.

One wondered whether she aimed for suffocation or for her fingers to drill right through Heather’s throat.

One wondered whether she cared.

“Booooo.” cried Masuyo-san. “Boooooo, fight back. Booooooooo.”

BlackAkuma — 09/21/2022 6:24 AM
Lock didn’t exactly have experience wrestling in oil, but she did have an exceptional level of balance, one that served her well in an environment like this. She might not have had the day durability or insatiable drive of the other fighters in this bout, but she knew how to make the most of what she had , how to drive her advantage home and turn things around. She could win this, so long as she kept her distance and weathered her foe down to a nub. If she played it smart.

If.

The real trick was going to be getting to that distance to employ this tactic in the first place, and it seemed like that was going to be a hard sell with Koyuki, as the woman refused to give her even an inch of breathing room. Locke gasped as he leg was snatched out of the air with impeccable timing, yanking her close. She only had the better part of a single second before steely fingers found their way to her neck and proceeded to clamp down tight, digging deep into the flesh.

An iron grip around her neck, a crazed expression on Koyuki’s face, and the air rapidly fleeing her body - it wasn’t a good place to be, and Heather was lucid enough to realize how desperately she needed to be out of it. Lucky for her, there was a way to escape - after all, if her opponent’s hands were too busy holding, then her arms couldn't be used for defense.

She brought her hand up, flattened her fingers out stiff and straight, then proceeded to drive the point home into Koyoki’s neck, targeting one of the most sensitive, important parts of her body with brutal precision.

WhiteKami — 09/21/2022 7:37 PM
“I can feel your judgment,” Masuyo-san said, patting Jack on the thigh for his attention, her gaze shifting away from Koyuki reaching out to choke the everloving shit out of Lock. “And I won’t shy away from it. I believe strongly in communication, so I’ll admit my folly: it’s my fault. I over-civilized that girl, and now I sometimes wonder whether she’ll ever be vicious enough, cruel enough, and black-hearted enough to command the Tokyo underworld when I’m retired and sipping tea in Kyoto. I mean-”

Masuyo-san leaned in, hand over her mouth, as if she was trying to share some conspiracy. “-When she was ten, another now dearly departed gumi kidnapped her. Y’know, her clan’s as close to royalty for the Yakuza as it gets, so there’s value as a ransom target even if she isn’t the firstborn. I was terrified, of course, cos her a mom back in Kyoto’s a real fuckin’ cunt about these sort of things, so there was a big hoo-haa on our end. We eventually found the bloody van they took her in overturned 30 miles out of Tokyo and, uh, it was covered in blood. The interior drenched in red the whole damn thing.” Masuyo-san said conversationally, as if she were talking about a cute story about how a child tripped and fell in the back garden. “I mean, I’m afraid, right? Forget never getting promoted, I’m gonna be called back to Kyoto for a nasty little bit of seppuku. So, uh, we got into the woods and we kept findin’ bodies, right? One crucified to a tree with sharpened wood, another scalped and hanging by his teeth from a low branch, and finally we found her in a clearing, clothes tattered, arms cut up, legs scarred, trying to spark rocks together while she screamed in frustration. Turns out she had left the last guy to bleed out a few hundred meters to the north, and she was trying to see whether she could cook him out from the inside before he expired. Some real Home alone shit. So-”

Masuyo-san signed, shaking her head.

“-Where has that fire gone? I mean, I just want my girls to survive in a criminal bureaucracy, but at what cost? That spark of imagination only a child could conjure up is gone. I mean, how long did she take to go for the neck-” Masuyo gestured in the general direction of Koyuki strangling the absolute shit out of Lock. “Sad to see. So sad to see.”

It was hard to tell she was sincere or whether she was having the biggest, most sardonic joke at his expense. If it was the latter, she was a really, really good actor about it.

Koyuki, on the other hand, was doing a great job living up to the story as she her fingers dug deeper and deeper and deeper into Heather’s throat, her dead-eyed stare betraying neither cruel anticipation nor the strain she surely felt this late into the fight. She was in a race against the remaining oxygen that Heather had access to, trying to claw her way through the windpipe before suffocation took her, and frankly, she was very confident she would come out the victor of that contest.

If Heather had not intervened.

She saw the intent before Heather launched her punch, but she was too late. The blow struck her straight on the neck, and she immediately relinquished her both grips on the blonde, both oil-slicked hands went to her throat as she bent over, gagging and coughing, making the kind of sound you make when you’re trying to vomit with nothing in your throat. Heather had done to her in the opening seconds of their fight what Ophelia took halfway through their match: stopped her in her tracks.

She coughed, gagged, and coughed somemore, still doubled over, hands still around her throat as she soothed an agony that would not go away. Seconds ticked by, and Koyuki recovered way faster than most woman, but she could not walk off a direct throat blow immediately.

BlackAkuma — 09/23/2022 2:12 PM
Jack was reasonably sure that Masuyo was the weirdest person he’d ever met.

He was usually good at getting a read on people. It was a talent he’d picked up from his father, something that had allowed him to thrive in the cutthroat world of British wrestling, and while the old man was full of shit in so many ways, there was no denying his business success. Jack had been dragged along to so many meetings, spent so much time hanging around old, boring men, that he couldn't help but pick up a few things.

But Masuyo just defied it all. Even now, as he sat here with this woman for no small amount of time, he was still having trouble getting a read on her as she told a story that came straight out of the pulpiest of novels. He couldn't tell whether she was lying or telling the truth, whether it was a made up story designed to intimidate him or a true story told by an off-kilter woman. But he knew better than to say much after it - what was there to add, really.

“Yes. Sad to see.” He gave a knowing nod. “You have lived a charm life, Masuyo-chan.”

This was right around the time that Heather made her counterattack. It was a desperate move, and if Jack were being honest, it was far more in line with something that Ophelia would do than anything from her typical wheelhouse. Heather liked to be in control, liked to keep things pristine and precise, and generally stayed away from the more brutal, direct sort of moves, that kind of thing that could shorten lives. She left all that insanity to Ophelia, with her partner bringing more than enough of it for them both.

That was the way Jack had looked at them, but it seemed like the two of them hadn't just rubbed off on each other in the physical sense. If Koyuki thought that Heather was just some snowflake she could melt with ease, then she was to receive a stern lesson teaching her the opposite.

“Hm.” He folded his arms and leaned back when Heather's piercing blow struck home, granting her the separation she was looking for. “Seems like your girl’s luck just about ran out.”

Heather couldn't say she shared Jack’s confidence at the moment. She was far too busy gasping and gagging on her knees, struggling to fill her oxygen-starved lung, but she wasn’t so out of it that she didn’t realize how bad Koyuki had taken her little trick. The woman was down, hurting, vulnerable, wide-open. This opportunity wouldn’t be coming by often. There was no choice but to act.

Heather stood up with a sudden burst, sending oil flying as she rose. She brought her leg up, whipping it up to full extension, then brought it crashing down on Koyuki’s head, attempting to smash her skull with a powerful axe kick.

WhiteKami — 09/24/2022 2:32 AM
If Masuyo-san was worried, she didn’t show it. If anything, she seemed to lean towards her recent cheering of the opposition.

“Booooo, Heather, stop sitting around and punt her in the cranium!”

A bit of reverse-psychology to get Koyuki up and running out of sheer indignation? A twisted gesture of supreme confidence in her champion such that she could mockingly root for the opposing team? Or was she just a bloody loon making noise at a bet she didn’t actually care about?

One thing was for sure; she was not drunk. She was never, ever drunk. For all of Masuyo Ai’s weird tangents, non-sequitors, and kooky anecdotes, she still ruled unopposed in the Tokyo underworld for the better part of a decade, and there was a lot of blood behind the smile and the casual conversations.

Koyuki, who knew her since she was a girl that barely reached up to her waist, knew this much: it was not an act. She was fundamentally that much of a wanker, and she knew it, and she got off on having an entire underground of hardened thugs having to put up with it.

Not that Koyuki was currently in any kind of position to consider the annoyance of Masuyo-san as she continued coughing and gagging. And when finally she started to gather herself, a rush of oil flicked into her eyes, and she hissed, eyes closed and shaking her head-

Right before something hard crashed down onto her head. She yelped, dropping to a knee, her face hung forward. Pain pulsating outwards from both the top of her head and her neck. A trickle of something much thicker than oil was trailing its way down her forehead and down the side of her heads, and she was too familiar with blood to not know its texture even in her stunned state. She lurched forward, and her head made contact with something tough and slick and well-formed-

Helena’s abs, no doubt. What a wretched sight she must have looked to the onlookers above; kneeling before the blonde, her face pressed to her opponent’s belly, not even trying to stand as she was at the complete mercy of her a decidedly weaker foe.

BlackAkuma — 09/29/2022 2:40 AM
Heather was so used to fighting in stadiums with an overwhelming din from the audience that she almost forgot how well voices could carry in a room like this. She had been laser-focused on her opponent, Key, the match, all of it, so much so that she’d tuned everything out for a little while, but things snapped back into sharp contrast when she heard Masuyo’s voice from above, cheering her on like some overhyped teenager. As ill-advised as it was, she couldn't help but throw a quick glance at the woman - was she really some sort of Yakuza boss? They’d crossed paths with such types back home, but Britain’s version was less flashy, more economic, couldn't have been further from this.

Then again, it wasn’t often that gangsters back home hosted oil wrestling matches with their lieutenants, so perhaps this kind of behavior shouldn’t have come as a surprise. Either way, the three of them needed to have a long discussion about the sort of company they were associating with when this was over. (edited)

For now, she focused on the task at hand, as she succeeded in landing a hellish blow on Koyuki, enough to lay out her with a bit of flourish. She spun about after the hit and plant her foot down, keeping her legs wide to ensure a solid base. Even for her, staying straight in this mess wasn’t easy, but she was managing far better than the other two women.

Luckily for her, she wouldn’t have to go far in pursuit of her opponent, as Koyuki fell forward and smacked against her stomach, hanging on the edge of consciousness.  She could hear Jack whooping his approval from above, but she wasn’t in a mood to bask in adoration. An opportunity like this wouldn’t be coming along often. She had to capitalize.

She reached and grabbed Koyuki’s hair, holding it tight with a white knuckled grip on both hands. She jerked her head from side to side, a small bit of spite, before she leaped up and wrapped her long, lean legs around the woman’s neck. She tucked her ankle under her knee and clamped down on her throat with a tight figure-four headlock. While she wasn’t a big woman by any means, her thighs had deceptive power, almost pure muscle, and she brought it onto one of Koyuki’s most vulnerable spots with crushing force, as she sought to choke the life clean out of her. (edited)

WhiteKami — 09/29/2022 6:31 PM
Losing consciousness wasn’t really something Koyuki was very familiar with. She wasn’t invincible. No one was, but she was always on the giving end than the receiving end, and some dull, distant part inside her mind was SCREAMING at her to get the fuck up, to push past this minor little setback, and roar back to victory.

But Heather was quick. She understood every second lost was another precious second of recovery where Koyuki could spring back up. Fresh pain tore at her scalp as Heather jerked her back and forth, and then something thick and slick and musky wrapped around her neck and-

Ooooh, that was not good. The little mewling sound coming from her mouth told her this was not good at all. Already injured, the crushing pressure around her neck -more than just a mere scissors, Heather was doing something else- was devastating. She mewled and she moaned and she made noises she hadn’t made in years.

To the spectators above, it must have been quite the sight; Koyuki on her knees, Heather hanging from the front, legs wrapped around her foe as she choked the breath out of her, returning the favor that Koyuki had almost delivered just seconds prior. Both oil-slicked, fit, and sweaty as what seemed like the final stretch of a hard-fought match was coming to an end-

Nah. Koyuki Sanada, the Blade of Shinjuku, the woman who killed her way through the unification wars of Tokyo, a Yakuza so feared she was on the no-approach list by even Tokyo Metropolitian, a scion of generations of Samurai and ancient arts dating back to before the siege of Osaka Catle-

Was not going to lose to some blonde bimbo gaijin.

Her hands came up to pry Heather’s thighs apart. She couldn’t get them off. Not in her current state, but she wasn’t going for that. She pried them just wide enough for her head to angle against one of Heather’s thighs, for her cheek to press against them-

And bit down. She bit down with all her teeth. She bit down with all the ferocity of a lion trying to tear the chunk out of a zebra’s flank. She tasted oil, and sweat, and stink, but she bit down all the same, her teeth digging in deep, as her hands reached out to grab Heather by the waist-

To keep her in place. To make sure that even if she abandoned the hold, Koyuki was going to gnaw until she got her pound of flesh.

BlackAkuma — 09/30/2022 3:49 AM
“Fifteen seconds.” Jack gave Masuyo a little elbow in the side, as Heather locked the hold in nice and tight. “Fifteen seconds, tops.”

Jack could say with a wealth of expertise that this was all the time she needed to knock someone out with those legs of hers. The two of them had been play-fighting once after sex, just messing around, when he got a little too into everything and elbowed her in the face.  That wound up getting her legs wrapped around his neck, and that was about the last thing he remembered before he woke up with his face on a pillow soaked with drool.

Needless to say, Koyuki’s neck wasn’t as thick as his. He wasn’t optimistic about her chances.

Neither was Heather for that matter, especially when she grabbed her leg and pulled it in, increasing the pressure that much more. She gritted her teeth and gave it all she had, wanting this match to end as quick as possible so she could be done with this bitch and tend to Key. Just a little more, and-

“Don’t-”

Heather got out that single syllable as she felt the teeth on her leg, followed by an ear-shattering shriek as the fangs dug into her flesh. It wasn’t the first time she’d been bitten - Key liked to dig in a bit during sex, ‘marking her territory’-  but this was so much worse. She was going deep, gnawing, gnashing, digging at her skin like a wolf at the feat. She would’ve been hard enough to pull away from in any circumstance, but with her arms holding her tight, the option was taken off the table. Heather unclasped her legs, more out of reflex than anything, but she couldn't get free.

Fine. Fine. As much as it hurt, whatever damage Koyuki did to her legs would heal back. There’d be a scare, sure, but nothing that some makeup or stockings wouldn’t hide. At worst, she might need some surgery. The human mouth was only so strong, even for a crazy bitch like this.

Skin could heal just fine. Eyes, though? Not so much.

Heather reached at her side, filled her hands with oil, then brought her grip to both sides of Koyuki’s skull and pressed her thumbs into the sockets, forcing the goop in as she drove them. Was this woman crazy enough to keep biting her with the threat of blindness hanging over her head? She didn’t know, but she was more than willing to test it.

WhiteKami — 09/30/2022 4:54 PM
“Nah,” Masuyo-san said, refuting Jack’s prediction. “Hey, Ko! Keep her there for 16 seconds-”

Koyuki did not hear it, of course. It was right about the time where she opened her jaws up like some kind of great snake and tore down into the mass of oil-slick meat that was Heather’s thick thigh. The oil did not save her. The brief “Don’t-” from her blonde adversary was just seasoning on the cake of her impending pain, and the soul-wrenching scream was comforting. Despite all appearances, Koyuki wasn’t a sadist. Pain and the terror it inspired was just a means to an end, but she had to Heather’s undignified pig squealing felt damn fuckin’ good.

That feeling didn’t last long.

One moment she was gnawing the absolutely fuck out of Heather’s thigh, pulling away like a dog on a particularly stubborn piece of meat, genuinely on the verge of tearing out a solid chunk of her leg, the next she was screaming. It was such an alien sound to hear. She had forgotten what it was like to just writhe and howl and bay with abject pain. Another scream up on the balcony echoed hers as Masuyo-san jumped from her seat on the sofa, and threw up her arms, just fuckin’ done with being reminded of ocular pain.

When asked later how long she would have lasted in the headlock, Koyuki claimed she was never in any real danger. But the thumbs to her eyes? She didn’t last a second. The oil seared into her eyes. The thumbs pressed onto they were the only thing in her world, and she immediately relinquished her grip on Heather, shoving her away, her mouth releasing its prize.

Distance. She needed distance. She stumbled, caught her leg on Ophelia, stumbled more, and then finally found her footing.

In a world of half-light. Her eyes survived but she was not opening them in full anytime soon. She saw flickers of color, blurred motion, and-

Sanada Tenchu Dekishi-Ryu, the ancestral martial art of her clan, was first conceived to kill Samurai in the edo period. Along with that, it prepared its practitioners for any conceivable scenario. One of them was blindness. In theory, Koyuki was able to fight just as well in the dark as she would with sight.

In practice, that was bullshit. She hadn’t paid any attention to the old lessons since she was a girl. And so here she was, heaving, seething, blinded, having to choose between fighting impaired or accepting the dark.

And she did not do half-measures.

Koyuki closed her eyes in full, accepting the night. In stark contrast to Opehlia prolonged thrashing when she went for her eyes, Koyuki went still. Eerily still. Where once she was perpetual motion, now she just just stood there, centering herself, her heaves of effort slowling down, her initial scream of pain reduced to seething. The stumble over Ophelia’s prone form gave her a rough approximation of where she was in the ring, now all she had left was to empty her mind and act, maybe return the favor and poke Ophelia’s eyes right out-

A gun shot rang into the ceiling; a smith & wessen 38. She recognized the sound. Masuyo liked her S&Ws.

“The next fuckin idiot,” Masuyo said coldly, without any cheer or whim in her voice. “Who goes for the eyes, I am going to shoot them dead. First and last warning. Christ, fuckin’ barbarians.” She plonked herself back down her seat next to Jack, the smoking barrel pointed to the side as she fidgeted. “Years of therapy undone…” she whispered absently to herself.

-Okay, so maybe that was out of the question. But still, she’ll pay her back one way or another.

She stood there, waiting, ears perked, gambling on a part of her training she had not considered for years…

BlackAkuma — 10/01/2022 3:49 AM
Heather wished she had a moment to really enjoy the sound of Koyuki screaming. While she wasn’t quite as sadistic as Ophelia on her worst days and she didn’t get off on it quite like Jack did, she’d be lying if she said she didn’t take some real pleasure in giving all that pain back to their gangster opponent. She couldn't remember the last time she’d managed to garner this much hate for someone she had only just met, but damned if W bitch wasn’t doing so in record time.

The problem was, though, that any enjoyment she might’ve gotten out of laying out this woman and hearing her cries of anguish was severely undercut by the fact that it felt like her leg was on fire.

As soon as Koyuki went away like a scalded dog, Heather fell on her back and started clutching her leg, hissing at the blazing pain coming from her thigh. Blood was dripping out like a leaky faucet, and while she wasn’t in danger of passing out from the loss anytime soon, she could see the problems arising already. She could still kick with that leg, but every movement was going to be a small taste of sheer agony, and if she wasn’t mindful, it could overwhelme her.

But she could move. She could walk. She could fight. She was definitely better off than someone with two impaired eyes, so now she just had to move in and-

Oh. Never mind. Masuyo had a gun.

Heather supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised by that, given who their present company supposedly was, but she was taken aback by hearing a gunshot in the middle of an oil wrestling match. Judging by the way Jack nearly leaped out of his chair, he shared the same thoughts, but she couldn't focus on that right now - not when something else was happening.

“What…” Ophelia rolled around in the oil, grumbling, the gunshot waking her up. She was still out of it, though, and clearly had no idea where she was. Easy prey for Koyuki, even if she couldn't see. Too risky, far too risky - this woman had already shown that she wasn’t above using a human shield, Lord knew what she would do when back into a corner.

Heather hobbled forward for the first couple of steps, then broke into a sloppy, hobbling run, not caring all that much for finesse at the moment. All she knew was that Koyuki was standing still, not moving, and she couldn't see - a better chance than this was not coming. She rushed in, swung wide, and threw a hard hook at her opponent’s face - while she wasn’t a boxer by any means, she’d picked up enough from hanging around Jack to know how a half-decent one was thrown. (edited)

WhiteKami — Yesterday at 4:18 PM
Koyuki’s entire world for the past 5 seconds was darkness and noise. A lot of noise. The swish of oil, the slick thuds of footsteps too close for comfort, Masuyo-san’s little gun tantrum, the spring and then bounce of someone leaping up from a sofa, and moaning. Very close moaning. Ophelia was stirring. Given a less precarious situation, she could have just took a step forward, stomped a foot down on her, identified the part of the body she had made contact with, made an estimate of the distance, and targeted the head.

But she did not have the luxury or comfort of plotting out that little bit of violence. Heather was already moving.

In the seconds that followed, the footfalls came closer and closer; hurried but hampered. Her bite had left its mark. Yet, Koyuki wasn’t going to discount this as a feint. Heather was far more tactical than the idiot lying on her back a foot in front of her. She could very well be taking advantage of her blindness to feign weakness. She was going to treat her as wounded but fully functioning combatant.

Closer, closer, closer, she had made it past Ophelia and-

The punch struck her like a bag of bricks. Her head jerked to the side from the force of it, she stumbled backwards, legs holding steady against the slick oil, and she hissed in pain-

But that was the connecting shot she needed to latch onto Heather. Before the punch could fully retract back, her hand whipped out, gripping Heather by the forearm, nails digging so hard the stabbed into the skin. With a mighty heave, she dragged Heather in, while her knee rose up to deliver a painful knee strike-

Right into Heather’s crotch.

BlackAkuma — Today at 8:27 AM
Strange as it might have sounded, Heather was almost glad that she had to resort to punching Koyuki instead of kicking her. While, yes, she could’ve done quite a bit more damage with a kick, and there were all sorts of attacks she could’ve landed on the woman, a few of which had a high potential to knock her clean out, she would be lying if she said there wasn’t something oh-so satisfying about just decking the bitch in the face. The feel of bone crushing against bone, the tactile sensations traveling through her hand, the impact that spread all the way down her arm, it all came together for a rare treat. She could see why Ophelia was so fond of just battering her opponents into submission and then going beyond. There was an addictive quality to it.

It was brief, but pleasurable, and then it all came crashing down.

“What-” Heather was only able to squeeze out that single syllable before Koyuki’s claws dug into her forearm, five daggers slicing into her skin and reeling her forward. She brought her free arm back, more than ready to strike an elbow against her foe’s temple, for what would’ve been a shattering blow…

…and then she felt it. The grenade going off between her legs.

It was Heather’s turn to fall forward now and smack off against her opponent’s stomach, before she slid all the way to her knees. Her hands went between her legs out of pure reflex, despite the loud voice in her head telling her how much she needed them in much more important roles. The pain, the indignity of it all, was just too much to take, and all she could do was flop to her back and try to roll away from Koyuki, hoping the space might buy her time to recover.