Bachiko the Grappler Ch. 02

They grunted and groaned as they pushed. Soon, Bachiko's right arm began weakening visibly - her hand was clearly not in good shape. Mercilessly, Kaori poured on the power with her left arm, and forced Bachiko's right arm back at an awkward angle.

"That's unfair!" Kaito bit his lip. "Come on, Bachiko... come on..."

Fujiko observed his distress quietly, with a strange look in her eyes.

Bachiko's arm was trembling, but she was holding up. Then Kaori suddenly moved backwards, and her thighs pumped her forward again, giving Bachiko another full frontal smash. This time Bachiko was forced back a full step before she managed to dig her feet in. She lost more ground in the test of arm strength, and now she was bent backwards slightly and to the side, since her right arm was being forced back further than her left.

They now looked like magnificently posed statues, except for the sweat flowing down both their bodies in rivulets, and the trembling and shaking. The blood running down the lower halves of their faces rendered this a truly gruesome picture, more so because it was now also running down the front of their torsos. They were perforce breathing through their mouths, which meant that their bared teeth were now stained with blood as well.

Long moments passed.

Then, slowly, Bachiko's right arm pushed up again. Her left followed soon after. Then her back started to straighten. A wide-eyed Kaori could not seem to stop any of this, try as she might.

"She's... she's doing it..." Kaito breathed. "She's overpowering Kaori!"

"Indeed she is," Fujiko said in hushed tones as well. "This is what Bachiko-chan is known for. Her indomitable will, lending her great powers of strength and endurance, sometimes letting her push well past her limits, forging new ones. If only it didn't come from so dark a place..."

Kaito found that slightly puzzling, but he put the thought aside. He was too engrossed in watching the sight before him. He had never thought there would be such a thrill in watching Bachiko - watching someone he could call his girlfriend - in such a primal struggle for supremacy over another physically powerful girl. Both of them giving their all, and Bachiko being tested to her limit, but still overcoming her opponent with her strength.

Step by step, it began to happen. It was like sumo, except that they had their hands clasped together, and there was no stumbling around in circles. Neither was there any expert move. It was just sheer brute strength, muscle pitted against muscle, will against will. Bachiko had suffered more damage so far, and yet, step by step, she was pushing the larger Kaori back, every step bringing Kaori's feet closer to the ring boundaries.

A trail of blood and sweat began to form, marking the passage of the two girls. The sweat didn't fall on where their feet trod, thankfully, so neither was in danger of slipping, but still, it was surreal and unsettling to see the fluids on the floor like that.

Finally, as Kaori's dug in feet were pushed right to the edge, Bachiko paused for a brief respite. Kaori looked up - she had had her head bowed for the last few minutes of the pushing match, and now as she turned her face towards her opponent, you could somehow see the defeat in her eyes. She had no more left to give.

The question was, did Bachiko have anything left in her tank, Kaito wondered. She looked just as spent.

The two girls shared a long look, and then Kaori shut her eyes and nodded wearily. Shakily, Bachiko leaned in...

And the two shared a deep, passionate, bloody kiss.

Then with a roar, Bachiko seemed to flex all her gleaming muscles at once - and Kaori went tumbling off the dais, onto the black.

A moment of silence ensued, as everyone took in the fact that now, there was only one girl left standing in the ring (and as Kaito reeled with the shock of seeing the kiss).

Then the cheers erupted, as Bachiko staggered back from the edge of the ring and raised her arms in victory. She did not have to flex - every muscle in her body was already tensed and pumped. The sweat, the blood... they were practically icing on her very beefy cake. The match hadn't been particularly violent, and it hadn't been a technical masterpiece, but that was of little import. As Hanayama Kaori clambered back into the ring and collapsed onto all fours, the tableau was what everyone in the arena had come to see: the thrill of victory, and the agony of defeat.

Bachiko went over to offer Kaori her hand, and helped her rival to her feet. As they stood facing each other, they each began to smile, whispering something inaudible to each other. Then they enfolded each other in an affectionate, comradely embrace.

Kaito sat back in his chair. "What a match," he mumbled semi-coherently. "What a world. What a girl."

"So, Kaito-kun, how do you find your introduction to this world?" Fujiko inquired slyly. "Your girlfriend Bachiko's world. The world of Tachikawa Underground Arena. Does it get your blood up?"

Kaito weakly nodded.

"And so...?"

Kaito looked up at her, wiping the sweat from his forehead. Slowly, he began to grin. "I think I could get used to this."

"Well, stand up and look down, she's looking for you."

In an instant, Kaito was on his feet, and Bachiko catching sight of him began to beam. But suddenly she whipped her head around to face the Azure Dragon entrance. Her entire posture changed in an instant - she now seemed like a trapped animal. Beside her, Kaori actually backed away a few steps.

Someone was approaching.

The spotlight swung over to the Azure Dragon entrance - and alighted upon a goddess.

Afterwards, Kaito would reflect that the word had simply come into his mind unbidden, when he had first laid eyes upon Bachiko's mother, Hanma Yuriko. She was dressed only in a casual training singlet and a loose comfortable pair of running shorts, but she was barefoot. The facial resemblance was immediately obvious. Yuriko looked, to put it simply, like a taller, older and even more muscular version of Bachiko.

And the muscles...! They gave her such incredibly luscious curves that Kaito could hardly believe she was a real woman. She looked more like some idealized portrayal of one, with her divine proportions. The way she walked, her facial and bone structure, and her long lustrous hair all combined to give her a very feminine mien, but at first sight a person could be forgiven for mistaking her gender. Her chest, in particular, was much like Bachiko's, except that the small breasts jutted out a little more prominently - she had been a mother, after all.

"She's come out," Fujiko said quietly, beside him. "I suppose she couldn't resist dealing out another dose of tough love."

Bachiko's posture was almost akin to that of a cornered wild beast. Her fists were clenched, and she was visibly trembling all over. Kaori had settled into a wary crouch, her gaze fixed upon the Empress of the Arena.

Slowly, Hanma Yuriko began to shake her head, practically oozing contempt from every pore. "Both of you little girls... are a disgrace to this arena."

"What are you talking about!" Bachiko screamed, to everyone's shock. "Coming in here like this, with your bullshit! What do you want?"

Kaito had never seen this side of Bachiko before, albeit in the short time he had known her. She was a completely different Bachiko from the one he had known (and lay together with). She was radiating fury as she pointed shakily at her mother. "There is nothing you can say to criticize our match! We faced each other as warriors!"

"Then why... is she... still... STANDING?!" The last word washed over the two girls, and reverberated all through the arena, which had fallen deathly silent. Kaito felt the hairs on the nape of his neck stand up. Was this... some sort of ki? Did Bachiko's mother possess some kind of mystical power usually only found in folktales, or anime? He dimly recalled reading about some ancient Chinese skill known as the "Lion's Roar", mentioned in some wuxia novels, which allowed the practitioner to shout messages so as to be heard miles away. He suspected that he had just heard the closest real-world equivalent possible.

Bachiko recoiled, and when she replied, she sounded almost plaintive. "But... we gave all we had to give! I don't have to knock her out. A ring-out is enough! She fought with all she had, and so did I! We're both exhausted!"

But Kaori walked past her, each step slow and deliberate. She was still breathing hard, but evidently her natural athleticism allowed her to recover quickly. She wiped the blood away from her face, and smiled. "Your mother's right, Bachiko-san," she said, without looking back. "Our rematch will have to be more intense than this. For now, though... it is an honor, to come face to face with the Empress."

Yuriko sneered. Then she said, "You barely deserve this honor, gangster girl. You've barely made your mark in the world, and already I hear about you wanting to tattoo your back with a demon face after beating me. The laughable fantasies of a child! You couldn't defeat me even in a hundred years!"

No lesser mortal could've said such words to Hanayama Kaori and lived to tell the tale. Clearly, however, the prospect of yakuza reprisal frightened Hanma Yuriko not one bit. And clearly, neither did the much more immediate prospect of Kaori's personal reprisal.

Kaori clenched her fists. The flowers and dragons on her arms writhed as her muscles rippled.

"Well?" Yuriko suddenly barked. "What're you waiting for? If you're done making out with my daughter, come and fight! I'll grant you the honor of an attack!"

"The audience is getting real bang for buck tonight," Fujiko remarked, "but Hanayama is in for it now! I'll need to get the servitors ready to bring her to the medical bay right away." She whipped out a mobile device - not a cellphone, those didn't work in the Arena - and began pushing at the touchscreen.

The floral mountain that was Kaori dropped into a crouch, and then quick as a flash she hopped forward, and the harite palm attack flashed out, straight at Yuriko's solar plexus. The heel of Kaori's palm thudded audibly against Yuriko's chest.

Moments passed. The disdainful smile on Yuriko's face didn't change. Slowly, she raised her hand, making as if to take hold of Kaori's wrist. Kaori swiftly retracted her arm - but failed to do so! The movement was too fast for Kaito's naked eye to follow, but Yuriko had snapped her arm out and intercepted Kaori's movement, and was now gripping Kaori's forearm in a death grip.

Hesitating only a moment, Kaori returned the favor and took firm hold of Yuriko's forearm with the same hand. Her arm began bulging with effort as she squeezed with all her remaining strength. Her fingers made no impression, however, on the corded muscles of Yuriko's forearm. In contrast, Yuriko's fingers were clearly digging easily into Kaori's flesh, and she was kneading Kaori's muscles like dough. To her great credit, Kaori gave no voice to her agony, and showed no sign of giving up on this unequal contest, even though she began shaking like a leaf all over.

"Hanayama-san!" Bachiko cried out. "Mother... Mother, stop! She's not at full strength, I've just defeated her! You prove nothing with this!"

"My daughter's offering excuses on your behalf, Hanayama," Yuriko drawled sarcastically. The test of grip strength seemed to be exerting no toll on her energy at all.

"No excuses," Kaori grunted in reply. The sweat was pouring from her skin again, and her veins were standing out like fancy drinking straws. Surely she could not last much longer.

"I've heard all about how strong your grip is. Tsk, tsk. This is... disappointing. Is this the best you can muster, Hanayama Kaori?" There was a sickening crack - and Hanayama Kaori sunk to her knees, cradling her snapped forearm, tears flowing down her cheeks.

"Mother! Stop!"

"How cute, a girl like you wanting to challenge me," Yuriko sneered, taking hold of Kaori's skull with her right hand and pulling Kaori up to her feet by main force. Kaori was sucking in her breath through her teeth, but was otherwise making no other noise. Her legs were almost buckling under her as Yuriko held her up.

"You weren't even strong enough to defeat my pathetic daughter. You can forget about challenging me. Do you understand? Because, even as pathetic as she is... she's still my daughter!"

With that last pronouncement, Yuriko flung all 204lbs of Hanayama Kaori across the arena, with one hand. Kaori smashed against the partition, crumpled onto the floor, and lay there motionless. Immediately, a group of servitors rushed to her side with a levi-stretcher and began to move her carefully onto it.

"You BITCH!" came Bachiko's anguished cry. The audience gasped in unison at that one.

Bachiko threw a punch at her mother, who effortlessly caught her fist in her left hand. As the audience watched in mingled horror and fascination - in Kaito's case, just horror - Yuriko began to apply pressure. Bachiko slowly sank to her knees, clutching at her mother's hand fruitlessly. Some cracking could be heard. A small trickle of blood appeared and flowed down Bachiko's forearm.

"Stop her! Stop her! Please do something, ba-san!" Kaito whispered fiercely.

"I can't stop Yuriko from disciplining her daughter when she wants to!" Fujiko shot back. "Ten men couldn't stop her!"

"Disciplining?! She's crushing Bachiko's hand!"

"It'll grow back - be good as new in an hour or so! Now just be quiet!"

Yuriko slowly shook her head again. "You are nowhere near ready yet, Bachiko."

Bachiko looked up. Her face was a mask of pain and fury, but her voice was oddly calm when she spoke. "I know, Mother."

Yuriko released her daughter's hand at last and walked away, without a backward look, disappearing backstage with as little fanfare as her arrival. Bachiko remained, slumped and on her knees, seemingly heedless of her mangled hand. Meanwhile, Fujiko checked her device and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hanayama Kaori's neck muscles saved her from the worst of it, Yuriko didn't break her neck with that throw," she remarked. "Only slightly twisted. But she's out of commission, alright. A week in the Yakushi tank will put her right. Incidentally, do you know why she still has that scar from her childhood, even though she's been in the tanks?" she said conversationally.

"Ba-san, I apologize, but I can hardly think about that now!" Kaito said urgently. "I need to get down to Bachiko!"

"It's because no one thus far has injured her so badly that she needed to stay in the tanks long enough to regenerate that scar completely," Fujiko told him with the air of someone confiding a great secret. "I guess this is a learning experience for her too, eh? Hanma Yuriko may as well have adopted the Yakuza Princess, ha!" she cackled.

At that moment, Kaito only wanted to get away from this crazy old billionaire woman and rush down to his girlfriend's side. He didn't know what he was going to do - he just felt the need to be with her, if she should need him for any reason.

He turned and ran for the elevator.