Under My Skin

The Friction crowd was buzzing tonight, as the show reached the second hour mark. While these shows were typically quite entertaining, tonight they had a little extra to look forward, something that had rumors spreading throughout the stands. It all revolved around one tidbit of information: Makoto Aihara was back.

She’d been off the regular roster for three weeks now, after the heinous and horrendous beating that Zarya Volkov had given her. Nobody knew the full extent of her injuries, but it was suspected that she’d be out for months, at least - speculation that definitely wasn’t true, since sources had spotted her walking around the building. From all accounts, she was fine - physically, anyway - and word had it that she’d be coming out to address the fans. What she had to say, what she would do, they could only guess.

But they wouldn’t have to guess for long.

Makoto’s music played, and the woman herself came out a moment later. As usual, the crowd cheered and clapped, happy to see their idol. Unlike usual, there wasn’t a smile on Makoto’s face. She wasn’t happy and waving and giving high fives. She came down the ramp in her gi, with her face focused on the ring, marching straight down the ramp. Not a word spoken, not a glance spared.

She came around the ring first, taking a microphone from the timekeeper’s area as she passed, and promptly rolled into the ring. Popping to her feet, she faced the entrance, opened her mouth and said...nothing.

For a moment, she hesitated. Anger didn't come naturally to Makoto, or rather, putting it to words didn't. Her whole life revolved around control and calm, and this, coming out here and blasting on the microphone, was a far cry from that. It wouldn't be easy, but she would do it. She needed to.

”Zarya. Volkov.” She spoke in cold, measured words, as the audience jeered about her at the mere mention of the Russian’s name. ”Get out here and face me. Right now.”

It wasn't much, but it was all she could think to say. Knowing Zarya and how much she enjoyed beating on her the last time, it would be enough.

It had indeed been a hard road for Makoto thus far, but she still had no idea just how difficult the path would become. The Judo Babe was still deep within a web spun by her old adversary, Anesthesia, and now those gossamer stands were slowly drawing tight around her throat. Even this call-up had been predicted, anticipated... and prepared for.

Seconds stretched into an uncomfortable twofull minutes and the restless mutters rippling through the crowd spoke to their growing concern that the much wanted show down would not come. Zarya Volkov wasnt going to show. Then, music erupted from the arena sound system. It wasn't, however, the expected Russian Victory March, but the Japanese song, Kaze Ni Nare, Become the Wind. The woman who emerged wasn't Zarya at all, but her ally and tag team partner, Isa Kubota. It was a face Makoto would likely never forget. She'd been the guest referee in Makoto's match against Zarya.

Kubota was still dressed in her street clothes, with mic already in hand. When the music ebbed, she spoke, her tone as sharp and merciless as a razor blade.

"I can't let you do this, Makoto. As a proud Japanese woman, I can't allow one of our treasured Olympic gold medalists to *embarrass* her nation for a second time."

As she spoke, Isa paced back and forth on the stage. " You don't belong in that ring. Not anymore. You should have remained in the background, making inspirational videos for school children, filming commercials and picking up that idol career before you're too old and used up to keep a fan base.

You don't want what your asking for, so take my advice. Announce your retirement and walk away with what little warriors dignity you still possess."

The audience might not have liked the wait, but Makoto didn’t mind one bit. She was willing to wait. She’d wait all night long - or until someone came and dragged her out of the ring - if she had to. She’d come back every night, every show and do the same thing as long as it took. One way or another, she was settling this

Luckily, it didn’t come to that, though Makoto didn’t get exactly what she wanted, either. Music she didn’t recognize started, and soon enough, out came Isa Kubota.

Makoto’s brow furrowed and her blood boiled at the mere sight of this woman. She knew exactly who she was, having looked her up after her ill-fated match with Zarya. She and the Russian were old running buddies, it seemed, and it wasn’t hard to connect the dots. Her appearance here wasn’t the plan, but it wasn’t unwelcome, either.

”I don’t belong in this ring?” Makoto stomped and glare down the ramp at Isa, barking out over the microphone. ”You don’t belong in this ring, Isa. You and your friend are everything that’s wrong with wrestling today - both of your are nothing but bulked up bullies. If you think you can come out here and talk down to me, that I’m just going to back off because you said so, then you’re…”

Makoto growled and shook her head, not even sure what word to throw at this woman next. After a moment, she took a deep breath and refocused, pointing straight at her. ”If you want me out of this ring, then you know what? You can come down here and make me!” The crowd had been iffy about this whole thing, not sure what to make of the newer, angrier Makoto, but this got them cheering again. ”Right here and now, any rules you like. How does that sound?”

It was all part of the plan.

Isa had been forewarned of this little stunt. She'd known to expect Makoto's ill advised bid for payback, and had already been paid a decent sum to meet that challenge while her Russian 'friend' Zarya Volkov hung out backstage, probably drinking spicy tea, bullying anyone smaller then she was and telling that bullshit story about how she got her scars wrestling an actual bear.

Kubuto didn't care. She'd have performed her part in this little game for free. As far as she was concerned, every insult leveled at Miss Aihara was absolutely true. Makoto was a disgrace, a weak, mewling has-been who naively walked into a trap so obvious a blind woman would have seen it a mile away. Isa had even given her a real chance to win the resultant match, and Makoto had failed! The so called 'Judo Babe' had the nations pride on her shoulders and she went down, hard.

"This is the part where I threaten you." Isa took a step towards the ring, shrugging out of the jacket she wore. "Where I tell you what I'm going to do to you. How I will stretch you until the blood vessels in your eyes burst. Until cartilage snaps and joints pop out of their sockets."

She paused, standing just outside the ring. "But you aren't worth all that effort. You don't deserve a warriors end. No, instead... I'm going to beat you like a dog in the street. You and me, Makoto. No Holds Barred, falls count 'anywhere'. No rules, no rope breaks, just one Modern Day Warrior versus a soon to be retired failure. So.. what do you say to that?"

After Isa made her challenge, there was a hush over the audience, only broken with sporadic murmurs, and Makoto felt the weight of every eye in the building coming down squarely on her. Millions were watching, tweets were flying, chats were debating. The moment held on her next few words.

Makoto should’ve said no.

This was a bad idea on some many levels. For one, Makoto was by no means a ‘hardcore wrestler’. Sure, she had been in a few in her time with Rumble Roses, but she had never won any. She’d always hated the street fights she had to participate in during the company’s waning days, and she’d always found herself getting beat about by women more skilled in the style.

On top of that, this format meant there would be nothing to stop Zarya from coming out and interfering. Not that a normal match was too likely to stop that, but at least the official would’ve been on her side if that happened in a Standard Match. Here, it could turn into a handicap match at a moment’s notice.

Finally, while she was cleared to compete, she couldn’t imagine her doctor would agree to something this strenuous. She wasn’t feeling the pains now, but there was little doubt that they would be flaring up in short order.

She should’ve said no. Walked away. Let it be.

She didn’t.

”I accept.” Makoto gave her a solemn nod, as the crowd cheered her determination. ”If you think I’m such a failure, come down here and prove it.”

Isa hated brawling with a passion and while this technically wasn't a hardcore match it was close enough to garbage wrestle style rules to make her inwardly cringe. It was so.... uncouth, unbecoming a talented technical wrestler like herself, but it was what the task at hand called for. Besides... some wrestlers didn't deserve a clean, honorable fight. Isa Kubota didn't extend that level of courtesy to losers.

"Then you accept my terms. Oh.. and winner decided by pin fall or submission only. I don't want the match ending because you passed out too soon.."

She climbed into the ring, moving to stand mere inches away from the Judo Babe. She wasn't nearly the physical threat the russian presented, but she was solid, sturdy. Uncaring jade eyes stared back at Makoto, arms crossed contemptuously beneath the swell of her breasts. Her lips curved into a smirk.

"Last chance to run, coward." ."