Makoto Aihara vs. Isa Kubota - Silver Medal

What was irritating Makoto the most? The talking.

Makoto had been beaten before. She'd even been beaten badly before - a particular nasty match with Evil Rose came to mind - but this was different. Evil Rose just grunts and growled like a madwoman. Isa was determined to make this personal in a deep way, mocking her heritage and everything she'd worked for.

It made Makoto mad in a way she'd never thought possible before. It made her way to slam her fist into that smug face a few more times. Unfortunately, she couldn't do that at the moment, because she was too busy getting launched over the barricade at high speed.

She let out an infuriated screech as Isa sent her running forward, to the blow - and cheers, she noticed - of the crowd. People just barely had the time to get out of the way as she went tumbling, only to wind up laying on the floor in a heap, covered by cheap popcorn and Coca Cola.

With a hiss, she started to push her way back up to her feet, looking over her shoulder to see where Isa was. And to show her how ticked off she was..

Isa Kubota climbed between the ropes and slunk down to ringside. Her jade eyes focused on the fallen and struggling Makoto, lips pulled into a faint, disapproving frown, as if the sight before her was the gravest of disappointments.

"Hmph.. what's that I see? Anger? Shame?" Isa observed, tapping a finger contemplatively to her bottom lip and regarding the Judo Babes fury as flippantly as one might a spoiled child.

She crossed her arms beneath her breasts, causing her rather ample bosom to strain against the fabric of her leotard. "Get on your feet, Aihara. Get up and fight me!"

Ignoring the rude comments from front row fans who were a bit too appreciative of her curves, Isa waited for Makoto to rise fully, muscles taut, fists clenched and the humiliation of a national icon on her mind. It wasn't mercy or a sense of fair play that drove Isa Kubota. She merely wanted the pleasure of destroying her enemy face to face. No excuses, no complaining that she'd only one because of happenstance.

By the time Isa was finished, there would be no doubt who the better woman was.

And now even more talking. Makoto found herself longing for Anesthesia - at least the things she said were often silly, in their own way. Isa was just rude and grating in her own way.

The woman didn’t miss a single opportunity to heckle her, as she tried to make her way back up to solid feet. She didn’t press her attack, but the Judo Babe almost wished she was. At least if she was staying on the offense, she would have to deal with those judging eyes and those condescending words. Having her there, looking over her like some disapproving parent, was a straw too far.

With clenched teeth, Makoto pushed her way up to her feet, shoving aside a fan who’d gotten far too close for comfort, she gripped the barricade for support, but when she saw Isa with those folded arms, she didn’t need anymore. The rage was enough to make her strength and stamina return.

A single-minded anger took hold of Makoto, and she scrambled over the barricade as quick as she could go. The moment her bare feet touched the floor, she came bounding forward at full tilt, attempting to tackle Isa and bring her to the floor. She didn’t even know what she’d do after that. She didn’t care. Getting on top of this woman, that was her sole thought.

It was almost enough to cause the modern day warrior to break out into peels of hysterical laughter. The sight of Makoto Aihara with rage in her eyes. How precious. As if the little Judoka had endured all the humiliation she could and was determined to teach Isa a lesson. It was bad comedy. Kubota waited, arms falling to her side, head high and supremely confident that the vengeful Makoto could not so much as budge her.

Suffice it to say, Isa slightly underestimated just how incensed her opponent was, and how strong Makoto was in general for her frame. The smaller girl slammed into her, and Isa, so sure in her abilities, was thrown off balance as Makoto tackled her, knocking much of the wind from her lungs! She tried to catch herself, but the Judoka bore her down to the hard, cold and unforgiving floor outside the ring.

"Uuhh! Who do you think you are!?" Isa hissed violently through clenched teeth as the conflict degenerated into a desperate fight for leverage. Kubota was bigger, heavier, and sought to roll Makoto onto her back, where she'd have the advantage. Her hands grabbed for the Judo Babes dark hair with the eagerness of a woman looking to bash her rivals head against the floor.

This was a bad idea. This was such a bad idea that it barely even counted as a proper idea. It was a random whim that flew into her head, a half baked fart of an idea, and everything she’d been trained in her entire life, every single lesson, told her how foolish the thing she was about to do was and how it would almost certainly end up with her taking more pain than she intended to inflict on her opponent.

Yet, she didn’t care. She could not have possibly cared less.

They went down, and things immediately took a turn south, with her foe using her superior strength to get on top of her, pin her down, looking to bash away at her skull. Not a good position, but she could work with this. Just had to think.

...okay.

Instead of fighting the arms grabbing at her, she kept one close and pulled it tight. At the same time, she brought her legs up, wrapped one around her shoulder while the other went about Isa’s head, and tried to lock her into a triangle hold - not a favorite of hers, but a desperate solution in a desperate situation.

It was all so strange. Insulting Makoto Aihara to her face, repeatedly, in front of thousands of fans and many times that number watching at home, just wasn't as satisfying as it should have been. It was all Makoto's fault, of course. She seemed to barely react to the sting of Kubota's words. All she got from the judoka was a sense of anger and resignation. Better then nothing, she supposed, but a far cry from what Isa wanted.

She wanted to see that stoic mask crack. She wanted tears and anguish and doubt written clear as day on Makoto's face, her spirit crushed beneath the unbearable shame of dishonor.

"You could at least make this interesting for m-"

Her words cut abruptly short, Isa barely has time to register the feel of the Judo Babes legs sliding around her head, neck and shoulders before she was dragged by the arm down into a triangle choke! Had she been paying attention, she might have been able to catch her own arm and wrestle it out of Makoto's grip, keeping the hold from locking in fully.

Instead, she'd let her guard down, and for the briefest of instants, Isa Kubota's large green eyes went wide with fear, pupils darting about as her airway was cut off and the world began to go grey around the edges. With her free hand, Isa tried a desperate gambit, her fingers raking blindly at Makoto's face, going for the smaller fighters eyes!

The Triangle Choke was perfect for Makoto’s purposes. For three key reasons.

Firstly, it was a good way to take the fight out of her bigger, stronger opponent. She couldn’t match Isa’s strength and stamina, she recognized that, but she could diminish it, weaken it, sap away her reserves and make the task of taking her down all that easier.

Second, it was an effective hold, hard to get off, and she had a real chance of putting Isa away with it, in the embarrassing fashion she deserved.

Third, the move allowed her to watch every second of her opponent fighting and fading. She couldn’t lie, she took real satisfaction in that last part.

It was short lived, however, as her opponent used a cheap tactic, scratching at her eyes, forcing Makoto to let go of the hold before something serious happened. She shrieked and rolled away, rubbing her eyeballs with one hand while she used to the other for support, trying to stand back up with the barricade’s help. Whatever was coming her way next, but unable to see and being off her feet wouldn’t make it any better.

Kubota was angry.

More then that, she was utterly humiliated. To be nearly taken off guard and trapped by a potentially match ending hold? By an opponent she'd already degraded as a complete embarrassment? The shame was almost too much to contemplate! That was no fate for a proud warrior, a disciple of the ancient samurai codes. Granted, Bushido did frown on little things like trying to scratch out an opponents eyes to avoid a fair loss... but Isa pointedly ignored that part.

Coughing, Isa took a moment to rub her neck as she stood, having escaped the triangle choke, making it to her feet just as Makoto was doing the same. Knowing her rival was blinded, at least for the moment, Isa stepped forward, her right arm reaching between Makoto's thighs while the other looped around her head, intent on lifting the smaller girl into a classic body slam.

Being driven onto the floor would have been vindictive enough, but Isa Kubota meant to slam the Judo Babe back-first onto the barricade!

Dirty cheating. That was what it always came down to, wasn’t it? Women like Isa couldn’t beat her fairly, so they always fell back on the tricks like that. Raking the eyes, low blows, sneak attacks. Anything and everything to win, with no sense of fair play or honor.

It would’ve rubbed her the wrong way in any match, but coming from Isa, her own countrywoman? That just twisted the knife. She could feel a fierce fire burning out of control inside, aching to find some release.

But it would have to be on hold for the moment. Isa had the initiative, and it didn’t seem like she willing to relinquish it so easily.

Before she could even hope to escape, Makoto was being lifted in the air and brought down for a hard landing on the barricade. She went away shrieking and flopping to the floor, hissing as the pain surged through her bones, rolling all about.

How quickly the tides of battle could turn. Only moments ago Makoto was a real threat and Kubota was struggling to avoid an embarrassing choke out on the grimy floor. Now she was standing imperiously over the Judoka as she flopped around like a dying fish. Of course, that little exchange with the triangle hold had been a fluke, a lucky break for the young judo champion. She wasn't on Isa's level and the modern day warrior would *not* suffer further humiliation by losing this match.

"Get up." Isa said icily, grabbing for Makoto's hair to wrench the younger woman to her feet with all the care one might give to an old coat that was on it's way to the trash. Everything the woman did dripped with contempt, it seemed. Managing to get her opponent up, Kubota turned her attention to the announcers table, a truly wicked smile curving the corners of her lips as she moved to drag Aihara towards it. When she was within several feet of it, Kubota sought to take her rival by the arm and Irish-whip her into the tables side!