~MASTERS FOUNDATION ARENA, MANHATTAN, USA~
The chanting from the crowd shook the building almost to it's foundations, ringing through the steely air of the stadium. Beaming hugely, the masked, blonde-pigtailed wrestler bounced up and down where she stood over her fallen foe, waving her arms above her head in acknowledgement of the waves of hype pouring down over her. Her heart swelled with every repetition of her name, an almost childlike joy flowing through her as she took in the adoration from every man, woman and kid in the audience who were chanting along.
Now this, she thought to herself, is what I live for.
It was only the first two weeks or so of her big comeback tour in Japan, yet the woman known as Mika Nanakawa - Rainbow Mika on the stage - could hardly believe the reception she'd been getting. There had been constant butterflies in her stomach when she'd begun, as the media took it's usual chance to pick apart everything she did like ravenous piranhas on a catfish carcass, and rumours of everything from busted knees to secret affairs blossomed like weeds in a cowpat. But they had died down the instant she had actually started performing, and now it seemed like there was no end to the praise coming in from all sides.
Well... except on one occasion. There had been some complaints after her first appearance overseas - something to do with her outfit. Apparently, skimpy costumes that were totally fine in Japan did not translate well to the USA, and quite a few people were taking exception to the way Mika was dressing and acting in front of hundreds of children and on live TV. The fact that people were seemingly taking offense to her gimmick had caused the butterflies to return, and for a moment the young Japanese blonde was wondering if maybe this tour wasn't such a good idea...
Then she asked the Kobbers what they thought, and the response had been an overwhelming "Fuck 'em, have a burger." So she did - several, in fact - and felt better for it.
A groan came from by her feet, and a body shifted along the mat. Oh, yes. This guy was still around - some Bronx or Boston kid, Joe something or other, who had a constant beef with anyone who could do superhuman things, like shoot fireballs or fly or anything like that. The moment the youth had stepped into the arena, he had immediately started mouthing off about how he was the real deal and all those other chumps, with their fancy "special effects", wouldn't last five minutes in a real street fight. Somehow, the cheering of the crowd as Mika and her tag-team partner strolled down the catwalk towards the arena hadn't shut him up.
So Mika did. Several times. And it had been carnage - Joe might have been tough, and his punches did sting, but he was simply not prepared for the kind of real strength the wrestler and her ally had been packing away. Suplexes, piledrivers and more had gradually worn him down from smug confidence into disbelieving anger, shackled by weariness of the muscles as his stamina ran it's course. Once, he even got creative and tried a leaping elbow drop from the turnbuckle, only to get caught in a reflexive Wingless Airplane that Mika hadn't even planned to do. Slamming his head into the mat with her own hips like that had been so satisfying.
But it was time to wrap things up, Mika decided. And with that thought in mind, she turned to the arena edge, where her partner - black haired, equally muscular and wearing a plainer white-and-red outfit - was casually leaning against the ropes as if she were merely waiting for a bus. Yamato Nadeshiko looked up as her blonde friend approached and cast one of her trademark confident grins in her direction, as if already anticipating what was to come next.
Except that grin somehow seemed... well, a little off.
Mika, of course, ignored it as she reached the ropes.
"You wanna go for it?" was the immediate question from Nadeshiko.
"I wanna do more than that," retorted Mika, grinning back. "I wanna drive this loser's head through the mat!"
That was all the cue Nadeshiko needed as, one high-five later, she quickly vaulted over the ropes and into the arena, joining her comrade as they turned their attentions to their agonized opponent. The crowd immediately roared in anticipation - a wave of sound that rushed down from the stands - knowing full well what was going to happen in the next few moments. In fact, so loud was the frantic calls and cheering, that Mika nearly missed what Joe croaked out as he struggled to his feet, limbs shaking with fatigue as they battled to hold his exhausted form upright.
"Y-you... costumed bitch..." he choked, eyes watering. "I'll... I'm gonna kill ya..." He failed to notice that, as he was talking, Nadeshiko was moving behind him carefully, positioning herself for the finisher that both she and Mika would be inflicting on this unfortunate jerk. She caught Mika's eye as the blonde got into position, and the two shared a cheeky wink that the enraged Joe, still swearing and threatening, completely missed.
This was going to be great.
"I beg to differ, punk," Mika interrupted at last, silencing Joe as she struck a defiant pose. "In fact, I think you should pucker up..."
"...because it's time you kissed the matt!
"...also, my butt," she clarified. "That, too."
That was enough for Joe, and with a great effort he charged forwards, roaring as he swung out with one fist. But fatigue and frustration had made him sloppy, and Mika simply ducker under the shoddy haymaker and elbowed him in the gut, doubling him over, before sliding behind himand winding both arms about his midsection. Now came the slightly tricky part - timing and co-ordination were everything on this one...
"TO YOU!" she shouted, and bridged herself backwards at great speed, throwing Joe over her head. Of course, she had to drop to the mat in order to right herself - suplexes were never her real forte - but she knew it was picture perfect and that Nadeshiko would have caught him by now. And indeed, as she scrambled to her feet, she was just in time to witness her partner throw the bewildered street punk high into the air, throwing physics the middle finger as Street Fighters are wont to do.
"NOW!" came the responding call, and both women backpedalled furiously, pushing themselves against the ropes behind them and stretching them taut in preparation. They watched as Joe reached the pinaccle of his ascent, saw the moment gravity took over and he began to drop out of the air in the exact manner and position they had been anticipating, right in the middle of the arena. And as soon as they saw that happening, they sprang forwards, aided by the ropes as they dashed towards the falling youth, before leaping up, twisting around in mid-air and-
WHAM
The crowd groaned in sympathy pain at that. Despite appearances to the contrary, having your head sandwhiched between two large butts was not very pleasant at all - especially not when they'd both hit with momentum proportionally equal to that of speeding cars. The impact sounded like a concussion would soon be due for the unfortunate victim, unconcious or not. Of course, if Joe still had his senses about him, it wasn't for long enough to lament his fate, as the tag team of Mika and Nadeshiko grabbed hold of his legs, pulling them apart in a split as all three dropped to the mat with a resounding crash that rattled the turnbuckles.
The ref knew at once that there was no need to start counting.
"AND YOUR WINNERS... MIKA AND NADESHIKO!"
Mika felt herself glow with pride as the crowd went berserk. She and Nadeshiko permitted themselves a few seconds to hold the pose, allowing the lucky fans to take snapshots of that golden moment to put up on their shelves or whatever it was fans did. Then they let go, and the out-cold Joe slumped to the mat as the female fighters rose to their feet, allowing the ref to grab their hands and raise them high in celebration of their latest victory. Everyone ignored the paamedics rushing to attend the crumpled form of the punk - in all fairness, he probably deserved to be out cold, given the things he had been saying earlier.
It was a victory well-earned.
-------
~BACKSTAGE, SOME TIME LATER~
~BACKSTAGE, SOME TIME LATER~
"You're splitting?!"
Nadeshiko winced at the volume of that shout. "You heard me the first time, Mika. I'll be staying here whilst you go galivanting off to America."
It took some time for the flustered, bewildered Mika to come up with a response.
"But... why?" she managed at last.
"Why do you think?!" And now the black-haired woman was glaring daggers. "Ever since this ridiculous comeback tour thing started, the CWF's started pushing you into the spotlight more and more! It's always 'Mika this' and 'Mika that' and everyone's singing your praises on the board! But do any of those stuffed shirts ever think of the woman who's been your bestest partner and friend since day one? The one who you can't do your best stunts without and is literally half of the "Perfect Peach" tag team? The one who got the ring name of 'The Perfect Woman' and everyone somehow kept a straight face?!"
Mika felt her fists clenching. "Look, that's not my fault! I can't control how this industry works! If you got a problem with it, go to the board!"
A bitter laugh. "I tried. They were too busy photoshopping your ass onto the cover of the next programme to even give me the time of day. I'm not even joking - I saw it."
Then Nadeshiko sighed, and ran a hand through her bowl-cut hair, stress making the movement stiff and slow. Mika stared at her life-long childhood friend, blinking, unsure as to wherever she was going to start crying or break her fist on the nearest wall.
She did neither, and spoke again.
"I'm not blaming you, Mika. You're part of my success, just as I'm part of yours, and we wouldn't have got this far without each other. I'm grateful for that, trust me. But the fact is, I'm not on those little collector cups, I'm not on the cover of the program, I'm barely promoted, I'm not on the posters of CWF and I'm not on Conan O'Brien or Tenta-Talk. But the fact of the matter is I should be; and trust me," she added, voice lacing with venom, "this isn't sour grapes, but the fact that El Fuerte is in the main event of Saturday Night Slam Masters next year and I'm not makes me sick."
Nadeshiko paused, and took a swig from her water bottle before continuing.
"I know how this works. I'm just a spoke on the wheel; the wheel's gonna keep turning and I understand that. But I don't want to be the spoke next to yours anymore. I don't want to be the one half of a team people pay to ignore whilst the other half does her thing. I want to be Yamato Nadeshiko, the woman that other women look up to - strong, confident and a moral signpost. And I can't do it with glad-handing, nonsensical, douchebag yes-men like Biff Slamkovitch pushing me under your shadow all the time. I gotta get out and be my own name...
"Without you," she finished, lamely.
There was an awful pause.
Then Mika stepped forward and throw her arms around Nadeshiko, yanking her into a hug. Any other human would probably be screaming as their spine popped in several places - and this was just her regular friendship hugs, for her actual bear hugs in the ring were even worse. But the black-haired wrestler merely responded in kind, embracing her back and pulling both women flush together as they sought the reassurance of each other's company. The forces involved would have pulverized anyone who had the misfortune to be in between them, so it was lucky nobody chose to walk by at that moment.
They stood there in each other's arms, breathing softy and saying nothing for a good two minutes.
"I'm gonna miss you," Mika whispered at last. "It won't be the same without my favourite tag partner."
"Hey, none of the mushy stuff," reprimaned Nadeshiko. "Or else I'll put you in that submission hold again."
Mika permitted herself a smirk. "Oh, please, I know how to break out of that one now."
"Yeah," chuckled Nadeshiko, "after two years of practice, it only takes you half an hour." Both women giggled at that, and then shared a quick peck on the lips before parting the hug, letting go of each other and stepping back. Mika then turned and reached for her duffle bag, zipping it up completely as Nadeshiko grabbed her towel off the bench, throwing it over her sweat-soaked hair and rubbing vigorously.
"Make sure to Skype," the black-haired woman continued. "I need to hear all the juicy match details when you go up against those Kobbers - and that includes the Fite Club stuff."
"Hey, that's no fair!" retorted Mika defensively as she swung the bag over her shoulder. "I told you about my Fite with Josephine, didn't I?"
"You left out the part where she kicked your ass," was the smug reply. Mika stuck her tongue out at that, but said nothing. "And besides, you might fight another favourite tag partner out there - one who's got moves as good as yours. You never know, it might be somebody from that Den of Lions place, and think of the popularity you'll get if it was!"
Mika grinned again. "I already am!" Then she turned and headed for the locker room door, pausing only when she reached it to look back at her companion, still towelling off.
"Well," she tried, "See ya in May?"
"Yep," was the response.
And that was that. Mika hesitated a moment, then turned and shoved the door open and stepped out into the hallway. A new sort of condifence was briming in her now, and as she strode down the coridor she breathed in deeply, already imagining the smells and sensations of Vegas before her even as she stayed where she was in Japan, mind already making plans for the coming adventure. A rematch with that Josephine girl didn't sound like a bad idea - and come to think of it, there was that Silence girl who was supposed to be built like a female Haggar and was the current champion...
"Las Vegas, here I come!"
Nadeshiko winced at the volume of that shout. "You heard me the first time, Mika. I'll be staying here whilst you go galivanting off to America."
It took some time for the flustered, bewildered Mika to come up with a response.
"But... why?" she managed at last.
"Why do you think?!" And now the black-haired woman was glaring daggers. "Ever since this ridiculous comeback tour thing started, the CWF's started pushing you into the spotlight more and more! It's always 'Mika this' and 'Mika that' and everyone's singing your praises on the board! But do any of those stuffed shirts ever think of the woman who's been your bestest partner and friend since day one? The one who you can't do your best stunts without and is literally half of the "Perfect Peach" tag team? The one who got the ring name of 'The Perfect Woman' and everyone somehow kept a straight face?!"
Mika felt her fists clenching. "Look, that's not my fault! I can't control how this industry works! If you got a problem with it, go to the board!"
A bitter laugh. "I tried. They were too busy photoshopping your ass onto the cover of the next programme to even give me the time of day. I'm not even joking - I saw it."
Then Nadeshiko sighed, and ran a hand through her bowl-cut hair, stress making the movement stiff and slow. Mika stared at her life-long childhood friend, blinking, unsure as to wherever she was going to start crying or break her fist on the nearest wall.
She did neither, and spoke again.
"I'm not blaming you, Mika. You're part of my success, just as I'm part of yours, and we wouldn't have got this far without each other. I'm grateful for that, trust me. But the fact is, I'm not on those little collector cups, I'm not on the cover of the program, I'm barely promoted, I'm not on the posters of CWF and I'm not on Conan O'Brien or Tenta-Talk. But the fact of the matter is I should be; and trust me," she added, voice lacing with venom, "this isn't sour grapes, but the fact that El Fuerte is in the main event of Saturday Night Slam Masters next year and I'm not makes me sick."
Nadeshiko paused, and took a swig from her water bottle before continuing.
"I know how this works. I'm just a spoke on the wheel; the wheel's gonna keep turning and I understand that. But I don't want to be the spoke next to yours anymore. I don't want to be the one half of a team people pay to ignore whilst the other half does her thing. I want to be Yamato Nadeshiko, the woman that other women look up to - strong, confident and a moral signpost. And I can't do it with glad-handing, nonsensical, douchebag yes-men like Biff Slamkovitch pushing me under your shadow all the time. I gotta get out and be my own name...
"Without you," she finished, lamely.
There was an awful pause.
Then Mika stepped forward and throw her arms around Nadeshiko, yanking her into a hug. Any other human would probably be screaming as their spine popped in several places - and this was just her regular friendship hugs, for her actual bear hugs in the ring were even worse. But the black-haired wrestler merely responded in kind, embracing her back and pulling both women flush together as they sought the reassurance of each other's company. The forces involved would have pulverized anyone who had the misfortune to be in between them, so it was lucky nobody chose to walk by at that moment.
They stood there in each other's arms, breathing softy and saying nothing for a good two minutes.
"I'm gonna miss you," Mika whispered at last. "It won't be the same without my favourite tag partner."
"Hey, none of the mushy stuff," reprimaned Nadeshiko. "Or else I'll put you in that submission hold again."
Mika permitted herself a smirk. "Oh, please, I know how to break out of that one now."
"Yeah," chuckled Nadeshiko, "after two years of practice, it only takes you half an hour." Both women giggled at that, and then shared a quick peck on the lips before parting the hug, letting go of each other and stepping back. Mika then turned and reached for her duffle bag, zipping it up completely as Nadeshiko grabbed her towel off the bench, throwing it over her sweat-soaked hair and rubbing vigorously.
"Make sure to Skype," the black-haired woman continued. "I need to hear all the juicy match details when you go up against those Kobbers - and that includes the Fite Club stuff."
"Hey, that's no fair!" retorted Mika defensively as she swung the bag over her shoulder. "I told you about my Fite with Josephine, didn't I?"
"You left out the part where she kicked your ass," was the smug reply. Mika stuck her tongue out at that, but said nothing. "And besides, you might fight another favourite tag partner out there - one who's got moves as good as yours. You never know, it might be somebody from that Den of Lions place, and think of the popularity you'll get if it was!"
Mika grinned again. "I already am!" Then she turned and headed for the locker room door, pausing only when she reached it to look back at her companion, still towelling off.
"Well," she tried, "See ya in May?"
"Yep," was the response.
And that was that. Mika hesitated a moment, then turned and shoved the door open and stepped out into the hallway. A new sort of condifence was briming in her now, and as she strode down the coridor she breathed in deeply, already imagining the smells and sensations of Vegas before her even as she stayed where she was in Japan, mind already making plans for the coming adventure. A rematch with that Josephine girl didn't sound like a bad idea - and come to think of it, there was that Silence girl who was supposed to be built like a female Haggar and was the current champion...
"Las Vegas, here I come!"
INTRODUCING
Bonnie Gordon as MIKA NANAKAWA
aka "RAINBOW MIKA"
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