Kazuya Ono vs Makie Akamatsu

After taking both brutal attacks and open disrespect from Kazuya early in their bout, it felt bloody satisfying for Makie to strike back at him. As Kazuya was left reeling, Makie pressed home her advantage, driving a padded knee into his face. The blow sent Kazuya stumbling backwards into the ropes, barely able to stand. That would teach him to look down on her, Makie thought with a faint smile.

Kazuya seemed to be reeling worse than Makie had thought, as he ended up rolling under the ropes, evidently trying to recuperate.
"Hey get back here, asshole, we aren't done!" Makie shouted at him. Taking a few deep breaths, Makie would hop on her feet and break into a run, dropping low in the hopes of nailing Kazuya with a baseball slide while he was still recovering outside the ring!

One of Kazuya's earlier childhood memories was him ignoring his homework to instead cast his sights out his bedroom window on some musclehead biker arguing with his girlfriend, who'd promptly fieldgoal kick him right in the junk. The lady storming off with this supposed buff badass crying into the sidewalk pavement with a lesson definitely learned on Kazuya's behalf. Chicks have absolutely zero qualms with wrecking any dude's shit and tearing them to shreds if given the opportunity and justification. Unfortunately he's apparently supplied Makie with all of the above given how she's started suplexing and striking the fuck out of Kazuya after scarcely a few choice words shared between them. Typically it was only when the Bad Boy was breaking up with a girl that they started breathing fire and raining down hailstorms and shit...

Opting to take a powder and straighten out his warbled vision in the meantime, Kazuya exited the ring via ducking underneath the bottom rope and started massaging the side of his stinging facials. The knee strike audible even up to the rafters as the referee already starting her bullshit countout the second his feet touched down on the floor. Raucous jubilation raining down for the vaunted veteran with swelled anticipation for her apparently chasing down the retreating miscreant, except Kazuya would notice her coming and clutch onto the ring apron. Raising it upward like a net that Makie baseball slid into as she landed on her feet with the hem of the ringside apron tightened down against her by Kazuya. Who'd gnash his teeth and proceed to levy several forearm strikes into Makie's swelled breasts before laying one into her face and backing off.

If Kazuya had been content to talk shit to Makie earlier, then right now he was, hopefully, learning a painful lesson about that. As Makie watched, the blonde guy rolled out of the ring, clutching his face. As satisfying as it was to deliver him his comeuppance, though, Makie knew better than to give him time to rest: for all of his rude manners, Kazuya was proving to be a dangerous opponent whom she shouldn't give a chance to recover. This was the main reason for Makie bursting into a run to attack Kazuya ringside: really, though, she was just still angry, and still wanted to kick his ass.

For this reason, Makie charged forwards, dropping low to nail Kazuya with a running baseball slide...

...only for Kazuya to dodge aside at the last second, pulling up on the fabric of the ring apron. Wide-eyed, Makie was unable to stop herself as her legs ended up netted between the loose fabric of the ring and the ringside itself; sliding forwards, Makie's body was jolted violently as she ring fabric arrested her forward momentum, leaving her standing upright outside the ring and somewhat dazed. Dazed enough, that was, for Kazuya to attack her.

Kazuya's arm lashed out, once, twice, each brutal strike chopping into one of her breasts. "AUUUGH!" she cried, gasping with each forearm strike. "B-bastard--" was all she managed before another forearm slammed into her face. Colours exploded across her vision, and then she slumped forwards, dazed and left breathing hard by Kazuya's brutal strikes.

Believe it or not, Kazuya could actually sympathize with his rabid adversary to an extent. Harnessing your adrenalized rage into giving you the upper edge in a brawl was a tactic that he himself was all too familiar with, especially when he was serving as a bouncer or merely was in a mood to break someone's face. The key was to make sure that enraged temperament doesn't blind you to everything else, because if all you're seeing is red than that crimson hue is exactly what you'll be sporting all over your face before long. The Rebel Fighter taking that into consideration once he spotted Makie rampaging towards him like a bull spying a matador across the arena. Kazuya playing his role perfectly in this case as he lifted the ring apron upward to catch his adversary in mid-slide and pinning her back to the edge of the ring.

Kazuya relentlessly laying in one forearm strike after another wherever he could find a clean contact, be that at her flinching visage or at her...adequately sized rack. Kazu would score her a 6.5 out of 10, personally. Points were taken off for how much of an uptight, pretentious, pain in the ass mad dog she was turning out to be, although allowing her some space after the pummeling to slump to the floor. "You got some type a fuckin' attitude problem you know that?...*tch*...Why do I always gotta get the crazy ones?" Kazuya lamenting on the type of women he typically finds himself in relationships with along with the one he's currently scraping up off the floor by yanking on her scruffy hair. Adjusting his grip to be snagged on to her wrist for an Irish whip aiming Makie square into the steel steps a few feet away.

Makie sank to her knees, her legs momentarily failing her as she hugged an arm against her hurting breasts. It was bad enough that Kazuya had been rude and obnoxious to her all match, and worse still that he had managed to dodge her baseball strike. But directly attacking her tits like that? At this point, Kazuya asking for a clobbering, and Makie was now going to be all too happy to deliver. That was, as soon as she could stand and breathe properly.

Kazuya was quick to help her with the standing part, at least, leaning forward to grab a handful of her short hair. The red-clad tomboy gasped as she was pulled up to her feet, before Kazuya grabbed onto her wrist as well. Unable to stop her own momentum, she went hurtling forward, before crashing back-first into the steel steps! "AUUUUGGH!" she screamed as she was sent tumbling over the steps and crashing to the floor on her side. Sharp pain spiked through her back on the impact, and as she crumpled to the floor, it left a painful, throbbing agony in its wake...

Kazuya had deleted enough numbers from his cell phone and dodged enough random shit thrown at his head from jilted ex-girlfriends to know that he just has zero luck with women at all. Inevitably they wind up hating his guts and wishing him death or at the very least a moderately thorough ass-kicking. The Rebel Fighter assuming that Makie could be filed into the latter category given the snarling expletives and feral glint in her eyes after pounding down on her breasts as if he wasn't going to target them for some bullshit chivalrous reason. He figured chivalry needed to be left back in the gorilla position since he'd rather be an immoral winner than a gentlemanly loser.

Kazuya taking his time in sauntering over towards Makie after taking that vicious spine-slamming Irish Whip into the steel chairs, wondering if the tomboy was beginning to lament underestimating him. "Now...are ya pissed off cause you're losing, or that I damn near pummeled those awesome tits of yours black and blue?" Kazuya queried as he once again uplifted Makie by her hair but tucked and roll her underneath the bottom ropes and back inside the ring. He would dash across the ring from the outside before re-entering himself, positioning himself against a corner turnbuckle and acquiring Makie in his targets for an attempted Beast Mode sprinting European Uppercut whenever she turned around to face him.

First her chest, now her back. It was abundantly clear to Makie now that not only did Kazuya have no intention of going easy on her, but he also was going to go out of his way to inflict as much pain on her as possible. She heard her fans cheering her from the sidelines; that at least gave her some encouragement as she clutched her back, clenching her teeth as she tried to prop herself up. Her back was throbbing with raw agony right now, and what made her wince even more than she was already wasI Kazuya's cringey comment about her "awesome tits." I mean, granted...Makie didn't mind hearing that they were awesome, but not after having them forearm chopped like that...

Her train of thought was lost as Kazuya grabbed onto her hair, causing her to gasp in pain as she was rolled into the ring. Breathing hard, Makie struggled to get to her feet, conscious that Kazuya would no doubt be planning some attack while she was vulnerable, like a spring from the top rope. Pushing herself upright, Makie turned...

...just in time to see Kazuya dashing right at him from the corner! Gasping, Makie would react instinctively, spinning to the side to avoid his blow. If she was fast enough, then she would immediately counter Kazuya with a brutal spinning kick to the back of the head...but if she wasn't, then she would take the full force of his uppercut, her head snapping back before she crumpled in a dazed heap to the mat...

It was highly doubtful that Kazuya would have been given a definitive response to that admittedly rhetorical question, but he figured the ultimate answer was just All Of The Above. No matter what though it was probably her pride that had taken the greatest beating up to this point in the match considering the veteran was being matched strike for strike by nothing more a street tough punk and relative unknown in the federation. S'not like that's his problem anyway since she practically egged him on into showing her something impressive, even if it did wind up with having her jigglin' tits pummeled and entire back sent crashing into the steel steps. Although Makie struck him as the type of shorty who'd be seething even if he'd been taking it easy on her up to this point.

*Just no winnin' with some ladies.* Kazu thought. Unless it meant literally winnin' this match, which he remained deadset on attaining as he escorted his spiky-haired adversary back inside the ring where he followed afterwards. The street punk assigning himself to one of the corner turnbuckles where he hunched himself over and locked his targeting sights on the unguarded tomboy. Swiping his thumb off the side of his nose as he readied himself for a stampeding sprint meant to barrel Makie over in a clock-cleaning European Uppercut, but instead got swerved into kissing the underside of her boot in a brutal spinning heel kick that brought some people out of their seats from the echoing crack of the impact. Whereas Kazuya angled his head to the sky before flopping down spread-eagled onto his back.

Makie had come perilously close to eating a savage uppercut that would have floored her, possibly knocked her out. The fact that she managed to dodge it was extremely lucky in more ways than one; the fact that she had managed to instantly rally and counter-attack with a spin kick was even luckier. And it hit just as hard as she had hoped, cracking across Kazuya's skull and sending him spinning over and flopping to the mat in a daze. At this, her fans roared in approval at their favourite's timely counter attack.

Buoyed by the fans' cheers, Makie rolled back up to her feet and burst into a run. Kazuya was down, but she couldn't count on him staying down forever. Running towards the opposite ropes, she rebounded and leapt forwards, somersaulting through the air before (hopefully) slamming the full weight of her back and butt down into Kazuya's chest! If her running bomb managed to land, then she would immediately lean against Kazuya's chest and hook one of his legs, going for a pinfall while she could!

Guess somethin' like this was bound to happen when you pit two spiked-haired firebrands against eachother with both possessing a violent penchant for delivering concussive strikes from outta nowhere. Whether this was expected or not, Kazuya still didn't see this one comin' until Makie's boot was already crammed against the side of his smushed, grimacing facials. The Prize Fighter taking in the warbled view of the rooflights above after having the taste kicked out of his mouth, a stirred ovation being roused up in the audience for the veteran lady striker.

*Whattha fuck was that spozed to be...* Kazuya ruminating through a flinching groan with slight shuffling movements taken, his distorted world only just coming back into a straightened view in time to gawk at the darkened shadow of Makie splashing down backside first onto his bare chest. Hacking up a whooping cough from the cushioned landing that jerked his limbs upward and accompanied by a tucked in pin attempt that had him scrunched over himself. The referee counting up to two and a half before the street punk bucked himself free at the last second.