SS 19 Blade Uehara vs. Beauty Ichigaya

Blade would totally do it.

In a way, it was ironic. This was precisely the sort of behavior that endeared Beauty to this beast of a woman in the first place. That raw, wild attitude, that fearless fire, that drive that pushed to her to take on any and all comers and find a way to best them. No one else could put her in such a spot, could vex her with only a pair of scissors, would dare to trim her precious locks, and that thrill made a fascinating fright.

If only it wasn’t her hair.

As Blade made her threats with a manic gleam, Beauty looked on as if the woman was threatening her firstborn child. Which wasn’t too far from the truth, really, since she put more time into her haircare than many of the actual parents she knew…which, now that she reflected on it, said more about them than her. Regardless, it put her in quite the pickle, and as the deadly came closer and closer to her luscious locks, she was left with only one option. One, true recourse.

”I quit!” She yelped and shook her head about as her feet skidded against the canvas, trying, in vain to put more distance between her and an unacceptable bad hair day. ”IquitIquitIquitIquitIquitIquitIquitIquitIquitIquitIquitIquitIquitIquitIquitIquitIquitIquitIquitIquitIquitIquit!”

"...sssssnip."

Blade slithered out the word rather than perpetrate the action as soon as Beauty had finished bellowing out all the Okinawan wanted to hear. Repeated ad nauseum and at such a screeched decibel that the referee almost didn't need to signal for the ring bell considering her admission of defeat could probably be heard back in the catering hall they just brawled there way out of. Blade discarding the scissors to her side before taking a step back and kicking the intertwined ropes to jostle them apart and free the defeated Beauty. The narcissistic egomaniac who was about to be sent packing on the same path of exile she'd sent Blade on. Banished from her profession in her native country, and uprooted from her homeland altogether. Cloaked in shame with the burden of her verbal submission weighing on her soul for the rest of her miserable days. Yeah. Blade was gonna do the exact same thing Beauty had done..to...

"...shit."

The referee beside Blade who'd been raising her arm in victory this entire time would yelp from that limb being yanked free as she started striding over towards ringside. Requesting a microphone from baffled attendants who'd eventually acquiesce and hand her one from the timekeeper's table.

"CUT...just...cut my goddamn music." Blade barked out while walking back towards Beauty, scratching the back of her disheveled hair and appearing very much like she had to get something off of her modest chest. "First and foremost...no one deserves being kicked out on her ass, more than you, Ichigaya. It's been a dream of mine, for all these years, to come back home and serve you the same bitter pill you had me swallow. But that's the thing...it was only ever a dream. Because, the truth is, I could never do, what you did to me. Not even to someone I hate. That's the real difference between us, not how we look. It's what makes us incompatible. It's what makes me better than you...and it's why I rescind this match's stipulation." Blade metaphorically and literally dropped the mic to a stunned reaction from the masses, than extending helping hand to get the Beaut back to her feet. "I want you right here where I can see you. And where I can keep practicing my right hooks against the prim and posh mug of yours."

It was over. Just like that.

How long had Beauty been a wrestler? Over a decade and a half. All that time, through the Wrestle Angels, she had become one of the most recognized faces in wrestling, a household name in her home country. With a style all her own, one that had only been emulated but never truly duplicated. She was one of the few and proud remaining Wrestle Angels, the forebears of a legacy that AFW was replicating. A long, storied career with more matches than she would ever care to count.

Now, with two words, it was over. So simple yet so definite, like the fall of a headsman’s axe. Her time as a wrestler was done, and while she could easily seek pursuits in other areas - modeling came to mind - she would never again know her first, true love. Never know the thrill of victory again. Never feel the supreme satisfaction of a perfectly executed powerbomb again, at least not without extreme legal repercussions.

She sighed, sat up, started to stand...and that was when Blade spoke. At first, Beauty thought the woman was just rubbing it in, but no. Her words were deeper. Thoughtful. Profound. Most of it all, they were giving her forgiveness. Even after everything they had through. Even after her strife with Panther.

She took the offered hand and stood up, looking both ways, confused, as if Blade was about to make this some elaborate prank. ”Are you...you’re serious?”

All of the hairy-eyebrowed devils on her shoulder were screaming their lungs about how much of an awful, terrible, idiotic, no-good, very bad idea this was. And to an extent she largely agreed with each and every one of them. The nightmarish abuse that both her and Panther have endured at the hands of this reprehensible windbag had indeed earned Beauty a first-class plane ticket out of the country, out of the business, and out of their lives. What Blade wouldn't have loved to end up seeing Ichigaya fly off into the sunset knowing full well she'd exacted her due vengeance, Beauty winding up bagging groceries or something as she plummets down a pit of one financial misfortune after another. The Okinawan's fantasizing about all of the possible setbacks and disaster's Beauty could endure if she pulled her back her hand and said "PSYCH!!!" were all...really tempting her to go back on what she just said...

...but in the end, it wouldn't be her. It wouldn't be the sole angelic voice of reason speaking to her gently on her other shoulder that was the bedrock of her core principles. And while that voice wasn't necessarily always listened to, it was winning out big time right about now. "Yeah, Yeah I am. Just don't ask me that again or I might change my goddamn mind." Blade uttered while tugging Beauty back to her feet with a hoisting effort, but keeping their hands gripped together until Beauty saw fit to part them herself. "It's just like I said. No-one deserves to have their livelihood, their passion ripped away from them. You're one of the best in the business, and I'm only going to get better by squaring off with you like this. Which I'll be more than glad to do once more if you ever start threatening my friends again. And...whatever...it is...we have between us...I'm not so weak-willed to just wave a wand and wish it away without confronting it directly. I take everything life throws at me, head on. It's just...how I'm built, I guess."

Beauty Ichigaya was rarely a woman at a loss for words. It was a point of pride for her, in fact, to always know the right words to speak at the right time, to excel at infuriating her inferior opponents through her infernal wordcraft. To be in control of all situations, to dominate the space around her, she choose her words like a warrior picked her weapons. Even at the worst, there were few situations she could not diffuse or handle.

This, however, was one of those uncommon times. As usual, Blade Uehara had a way of weaving around her defenses, coming at her from different, and leaving her completely, utterly, totally…

Broken.

After Blade pulled her up and let go, Beauty opened her mouth to respond to Blade’s speech, then shut it just as quickly, as if she were afraid of the very words she would speak. She bit her lip and chewed on it for a moment, then looked left and right at the baying audience. All those eyes judging her, calling for Blade to drop the axe and end her career. She had never cared much for what the crowd said or did, expecting them to be against her at all times, but now…

”I…” She spoke in a sputtering whisper. ”I need to think about this.”

And that was all she said before she walked past Blade, exited through the ropes and made her way up the ramp, her gaze focused forward every step of the way.

Blade was reacting as any seasoned wrestler would after making such a dangerous, bone-headed, and bird-brained decision like showing leniency towards a bitter and hated rival who could vastly overpower you. She was recoiling with a scrunched face for the retaliatory right hook that would assuredly kayo her for the night and most of the morning after. Being as thoroughly exhausted as Blade was meant that she was essentially defenseless, not even having the energy to raise her arms and shield herself from the incoming haymaker. But the Okinawan made her unbelievably stupid decision, and was preparing herself for the consequences...except they never came. In fact by the time Blade peeked open an eye after Beauty said her peace, the narcissist was at the bottom of the ramp and marching off.

"...uh...what just happened?..." Blade turned to face the ramp in perplexed bafflement, scratching her scuffed up hair as the referee reminded Blade that she won and answered the question she didn't intend to be answered...what a gyp. Somehow Blade ended up being triumphant in one of the most challenging and arduous matches of her life...but now she's actually feeling a little SORRY for that narcissistic nutjob. Sometimes Blade just couldn't win. She huffed out a deflated sigh and opted to just give up trying figure that woman out anymore, because if Beauty was mentally broken, than Blade was her physical equivalent. The adrenaline was running thin, and hobbling off towards the medical ward was starting to sound like a real good idea right about now...but not without first shuffling off towards a turnbuckle to stand atop the middle ropes, and raising her fist skyward. Taking in the fan's adulation with one arm covering what felt like a bruised rib as the announcer's talked up her accomplishment, and started hyping up the next match on the card.

Winner : Blade Uehara