Guess Who's Coming to Downton

Masuyo had played the self-appointed teacher for a great number of lessons in the past. Beating would-be thugs back on the straight and narrow, knocking some sense into the local delinquent gangs, and keeping yakuza business clear out of Shibuya; one punch at a time. Gwendolyn was still due to receive her lesson and she still fully intended to dish it out for so boldly disgracing the legacy of Ai Ramen.

But then she felt her heart burn; the corner of her mouth tickled into a smirk and a hunger manifested on the tip of her tongue. That smile was still there as she threw a whirlwind of kicks at Gwendolyn, watching as she avoided every single one with ease. As expected. What wasn’t expected was having her leg used as a balancing beam.

The Demon’s gaze widened as they looked at the heiress nearly suspended in perfect motion. It was a brief second that replayed in Masuyo’s head on the spot over and over. Her eyes were overcome with disbelief too potent for words.

She didn’t have long to be amazed before both of the dancer’s legs clamped around her skull. Before she knew it, her feet had left the floor. The shock of her head hitting the tatami froze her body on the spot. Her vision hazed for the slightest moment before the Demon of Shibuya blinked and grit her teeth.  

Before the heiress capitalized, Masuyo’s legs shot up from the floor, and moved to lock them around Gwendolyn’s neck. If she managed that much, she would throw the blue-blooded fighter forward off of her and kip up two feet, already primed for another charge.

“KIYAH!” After a quick lunge forward, Masuyo’s feet would leave the ground and send her into a sharp spin, sending a hasty leaping side kick toward her adversary’s chest.

Unintentional though it may have become...each and every maneuver, strike, submission, and counter play up till this specific point in the sparring showcase would henceforth be regarded as a mere warm-up session. An instinctual approximation of each-other's fighting capabilities and prelude to the official beginning of the true battle to come. Seemingly both sides underestimating their sparring adversary in their own ways but in the end coming to the ultimate conclusion that the time had come for the metaphorical gloves to be cast aside. Gwendolyn's own competitive flames rekindled anew at the enticing prospect of combating against a worthy adversary unfettered of any restrictive shackles, including ones inherent with wrestling as a profession. The Haughty Highblood sharing Masuyo's zealous smirk as the unlikely pairing proceeded to clash unencumbered by their own false assumptions and fight on all cylinders. Gwendolyn's practiced agility and balanced footwork enabling her to seamlessly avert catastrophe should all of those strikes hit their target.

Poised poetry in motion as she used Masuyo's extended leg as an aerial stepping stone before once again making the Demon become comfortably acquainted with her smooth thighs squeezing down on Masu's cranium. Vaulting herself backwards to plant her adversary on her head like a noodle cooking tree before gravity had them sunken down to the floor, but no sooner afterward Gwen would be tussled off with Masuyo's own nimble footwork. The heiress finding her feet and arising only in time to raise her arms and unfortunately guard her posh face, when her foe's kick was instead aimed for her orbicular abundance. Sunken deep within her mushed boobs and waylaying Gwen back first to the ground with a hissed groan. Winded and stunned with a seething sting in her chest, but whenever Masuyo came close Gwen would hike her legs in until she was scrunched into a ball on her head. Both hands balanced on the floor before shooting her legs upward to attempt to smash both of her extended feet into Masuyo's abdomen, chest, or bottom of her chin.

There was no reason to wait as far as Masuyo was concerned. Not any longer.

What they did or didn’t do all that time ago when they first met, was far gone inside of her mind. What Masuyo recognized alone was an opponent worth beating. Her body moved on its own, following the beat of her heart and the flowing heat of her blood. The instant after her kick landed and her feet hit the floor, Masuyo was charging at Gwendolyn again to press the opening she’d made.

Until she moved. Moved fast.

Masuyo’s hands went low, blocking one kick aimed for her abdomen with her palms, but leaving her head fully exposed for a cracking shot to the chin. Her vision hazed for the briefest instant. The power in Gwen’s legs was unreal, even from an unorthodox position like that. It reaffirmed for the Japanese fighter that this was someone worth beating. The light in her eyes didn’t falter as she relocked on Gwendolyn.

You’re not gonna stop me!

The prodigy endured her kick and pushed past it to her target. She opted to introduce the heiress to an old-fashioned pummeling. Masuyo dove over her opponent and moved to mount Gwen’s midsection. The same moment that the blonde aristocrat felt the force of 150 pounds of muscular weight come down on her was the same instant she would find a gloved fist in her face. Followed by a hammer fist, and then a hook, and then an elbow. She struck from every angle and seized each opening the instant they appeared. The Demon of Shibuya would hit her with the same ferocity that earned her that moniker years ago.

Several dawning realizations were becoming rapidly ascertained in the milliseconds Gwendolyn had to receive and comprehend them in between defending herself from the rampant onslaught of offense being levied against her by the dauntless noodle waitress. One being that a striker's duel was only in the heiress' favor once she was in the proper stance/positioning and she could find an adequate opening, otherwise her rampaging adversary will merely deflect, dodge, or merely endure and persevere. Evident by the fact that Gwendolyn's upward kick, which she assumed would buy her some time to regain her upright guard after having so cleanly connected with the underside of Masuyo's jaw...was instead shirked off by the demonic fighter with a capitalizing pounce into a mounted position. Gwendolyn huffing out from Masu's bodyweight centered on the noblewoman's breadbasket and hips hugged tightly around her waist.

This next particular dawning realization pertaining to the precariousness of her grounded positioning coming in the subtle form of Masuyo's gloved fist savagely sunken into Gwendolyn's elegant yet squinting facials with a strike which was promptly followed up by several others, a squirmed uptick to the heiress' legs with each unguarded connection thwacked into her supple yet trapped frame before a secured guard was eventually upheld to block her head. A moment to think behind a shielded pummel being all Gwen eventually needed before she snatched onto Masuyo's waist in between strikes and bucked her hips while tugging on her foe's shorts to haul the Demon up and forward a few inches. Gwendolyn swiftly squirming out from between Masu's legs, rattled but instinctively latching onto her foe from behind with a waistlock. Seemingly aiding Masu back to her feet, until the world turned upside down with an attempt of one of Gwen's flawless German Suplexes...

Masuyo didn't have to dedicate too much energy to keeping this position. That was the benefit of being the heavier opponent; weight and gravity did most of the work for you. That meant she could dedicate the rest of her stamina to making each strike more powerful than the last.

Gwendolyn held out well against the barrage. Better than most she'd met back in MMA. She rolled with the blows and kept her eyes trained on the Demon. She was looking for an opening, ready to act the second it showed itself. That kind of resolve didn't just happen by accident. It was trained. Earned. With every move made, her mental image of Ms. Bettencourt was altered little by little. Beyond the desperation to win, there was an excitement stirring around in her breast that brimmed the corners of her lips.

All the more reason for Masuyo to not hold back. Her hammer fists began to rain down ever harder when, all of a sudden, Gwendolyn bucked from underneath her and forced the aikido girl to stumble forward off of her mount. Before she could throw a glance over her shoulder, her feet were already leaving the floor. The room became a blur as the former champion sent Masusyo to the floor, slamming the top of her skull into the tatami.

Masuyo braced her hands and rolled out of the suplex, coming down on her knees. Her hands pressed against the canvas, but when the Demon attempted to stand, the world tilted and spun beneath her feet. A rush of vertigo stalled her movements and kept her on one knee. She shook and groaned with the pain, hoping it would pass in the two seconds she had before Gwendolyn moved on her.

Concocting devious stratagems in order to outwit one's adversary is indeed no rudimentary feat. Gwendolyn herself preferring the serene solitude of her palatial estate or office settings along with being served soothing tea as the tranquil backdrop to ruminate on her own corporate dealings and subterfuges. The Haughty Highblood much rather preferring these sophisticated settings as opposed to her current vexing situation...being bludgeoned with ceaselessly savage strikes swatting her regal facials side to side until scrounging up a guarded position. Sunken beneath a torrential downpour of raining fists was a predicament Gwendolyn knew was unsustainable for very long given how her arms were beginning to falter already against the Demon's onslaught. Although it was from within her guard that the heiress locked eyes and centered her glared attention on the rampaging Demon, taking stock of her motions until finding the most opportune time in her windup to spring Masuyo upwards with a hip thrust and yank of her waistband.

Seamless execution and exquisite balancing on her tiptoes were all the hallmarks of Gwendolyn's heralded German Suplexes. Bucking her hips into a faultless fluidity that scant few could immediately rebound from, with Masuyo evidently not amongst their ranks. The noblewoman being situated on one knee when she initially balked from Masu seemingly standing upright, but breathing a sigh of relief once the Demon's buckling legs faltered beneath her. Inwardly acknowledging the astounding degree of heart, and unyielding spirit Masuyo possessed. Even Gwen's own regal hubris subsiding ever so briefly to concede that were Masu to have had unleashed another savage offense after sustaining so titanic a suplex...Gwendolyn narrowing her hazel eyesight and dashing straight towards the hobbled Demon and tucking her head betwixt the snug smoothness of Gwen's toned thighs. A waistlock bringing Masu to a hunched over stance on her feet, with a vaulting somersault attempted to crown her foe on the tatami in a Canadian Destroyer.