Bachiko the Grappler Ch. 03

And she did this thing she called the Dragon Flag – she said it was something that the legendary Bruce Lee used to do, and the technique had been expounded upon by some Russian strength coach with a name Kaito couldn't recall, Pavel something. Bachiko would lie down on a bench normally, except that she'd reach up and grab the underside of the bench, by her ears. Then her entire body would suddenly go up, like the hand of a clock, ramrod straight, until it was vertical down to her neck and shoulders.

Every muscle on her body would be standing out as she did that exercise and maintained that pose. Every rippling curve, every pulsing bulge, every sculpted striation... Kaito's eyes drank in all in. She worked out topless, wearing only leotard tights, as he had first seen her that day when he had been a peeping tom. Nothing was hidden from Kaito's hungry gaze. But it never felt enough.

His sex drive had never been higher. Every night, Bachiko was in the mood for more – and she never ever seemed concerned about protection, even though he repeatedly asked if he should put on some. She would simply brush those concerns aside, and the sex would proceed. It was always divine. He could not believe what turn his life had taken. In his previous life, he must have been some hero who had sacrificed his life to save thousands of people, he mused. Whatever the case, the gods were being exceptionally kind to him.

There was so much pleasure he was getting from being Bachiko's boyfriend, in fact, that he began to feel a little guilty – what was he doing to deserve all this? Bachiko herself couldn't come up with any answer when he asked her directly if there was anything he could do to help her in any way – she seemed to be more or less self-sufficient in every respect. She did show her deep appreciation for his offer, but the question remained open.

So, as he had intended, he asked to go again with Bachiko to the Arena, to spectate a match – for "research" purposes, he firmly insisted.

"Are you sure?" Bachiko asked, quirking an eyebrow. "We who fight in the Arena are fully aware, erotic pleasure is one of the attractions for the spectators. It doesn't need to be denied, you know..."

"Umm... uhh... No! I mean, yes, sure, alright, it's there, no denying it," he said, blushing slightly, "but really! I promise, that is not my primary intention! I want to ask Tachibana-san if there is any way I can, maybe, access the records or some information, so that I can pass it on to you and you can be better prepared..."

"I know all I need to know to defeat my opponent in the Arena," Bachiko said flatly, but she didn't sound as though she were offended. "I am not particularly interested in their life stories or their personal struggles, or anything like that. The information I need is always publicly available and made known to me well before the match itself. You can go ahead if you wish, but I am not sure you need to go to such trouble on my behalf..."

"Well, you never know! There might be something in there I could turn up, that could be of use... Really, it's the least I could do... after all you, um, do for me... I should repay what I owe to you!"

She laughed out loud at that, a genuinely surprised bark of laughter. Yet again Kaito had occasion to note that her behavior in so many ways was very un-Japanese. Or rather, not like how most Japanese women behaved.

"Kaito, do you think that our lovemaking is some kind of sacrifice I am making for you? I am getting just as much pleasure out of it as you are, you know! Similarly, when I let you watch me while I work out, I also enjoy the feeling. It's sexual pleasure for me as well, or I would not do it. It is not a chore to make you happy, Kaito," she finished with a smile, not unkindly.

To that, he could only stammer his thanks and feel a bit silly. It seemed so obvious now that she had illustrated the point outright, with such clarity, and no beating around the bush with euphemistic turns of phrase. But his mind had been conditioned to think that way. It was food for thought, the way Bachiko's mind just worked differently.

Still, he was resolved to help, to pull his weight, as it were, in this relationship. He wasn't a very romantic guy, and he was a bit of a shut-in to boot, and she was of more financial means than him. She was also focused and dedicated on her Arena career. That ruled out fine dining, lavish gifts and romantic vacations, all the usual things men could give their women. He would have to do things his way, leveraging on his strengths, deploying his particular skills and talents.

He was convinced that she underestimated the power of intelligence-gathering. Forewarned was forearmed, surely!

Actually, come to think of it, it wasn't so much her Arena career that she was focused on... It was something else. It was... someone... else.

***

Friday night and they were off to the park again. By some stroke of coincidence, the woman that Bachiko would be facing in a few weeks' time, the Russian she-bear Polina "The Pulverizer" Petrovna, would be having an exhibition match tonight against a Japanese contestant.

This time, Bachiko and Kaito got a VIP box seat to themselves, and he noticed that around the Arena, several other VIP box seats were also occupied, mostly by women. Judging from their muscularity and racial diversity, it was safe to surmise that they were Arena fighters as well. They were fascinating, unique specimens, each and every one of them. Kaito couldn't tell much just from looking at them like this, but his natural curiosity was piqued. He had his research work cut out for him, he was sure.

From the Azure Dragon entrance, Okamoto Jun made her entrance. She came in without much fanfare and to polite but tame applause, wearing only a pair of red thongs, with no robe. On her face was a look of determination mingled with nervous anxiety. She had only a few matches under her belt, Kaito had discovered earlier.

He couldn't help studying her physique closely. She was formidably muscled... for a girl. Before meeting Bachiko or seeing that someone like Hanayama Kaori could exist, Kaito would've thought Okamoto Jun was extremely muscular, maybe even unfeminine. But now, to his eye, she just appeared a very fit and strong girl, with quite feminine curves and a shapely butt. Still more muscular than himself, of course, but hardly a match for Bachiko. His perceptions had definitely been skewed.

And then her opponent came in, through the White Tiger entrance. The announcer's voice blared, some vaguely ominous music played, and the platinum-blonde giantess walked in, draped in a stylized Soviet flag with the additional design of a bear on it. When she cast her robe off with an imperious movement, spreading her arms out and basking in the crowd's adulation, Kaito nearly started out of his chair.

"How can they allow this match?! This is going to be murder! She'll be crushed!" He could not help his outburst.

Bachiko remained calm and unruffled, but her eyes narrowed.

Polina Petrovna, affectionately dubbed "The Pulverizer", champion female wrestler from the Soviet Union, more precisely the Russian motherland, was quite simply as monstrous as Hanma Yuriko, only taller and maybe a little bigger. She had practically no hips – the muscles were too developed along her trunk and down to her legs, the usual womanly curves were absent. Her hair was bunned up behind her head, accentuating her strong jawline and high forehead. The most distinctive feature about her, Kaito felt, was her chest: unusually for a woman with such muscle definition, Polina had two sizeable breasts jutting out, and they looked natural, not fake. But underneath those breasts was some of the most developed chest muscle Kaito had ever seen, on a man or woman.

In fact, the only woman he knew of who might match Polina for size was... Bachiko's own mother. He said that aloud.

"They have had a match, yes," Bachiko said. "It ended with Polina flat on her stomach and my mother standing with one foot on her back, victorious. Polina wasn't a particularly challenging opponent."

Kaito just shook his head in disbelief. Looking down at the Russian she-bear, he couldn't imagine that giantess defeated, not even by Hanma Yuriko whom he'd seen with his own eyes. And this was the woman that Bachiko would have to face?

But right now it was poor Okamoto Jun, 22, hailing from Honshu, who was quailing despite herself. The look of wide-eyed trepidation on Jun's face was painful to behold. But all around the Arena, Kaito sensed, the bloodlust was high. These people wanted to see this sweet, beautiful athlete crushed by the monstrous Russian. It was why they were here.

The table was brought in, and the Russian scowled across it at the Japanese. Jun visibly gulped. Trembling slightly, she suddenly lunged forward and planted her right elbow firmly on the table, giving out a wordless yell as she did so. For that show of spirit she got a wave of applause and cheering, but it did not seem to bolster her confidence much, judging from the way she was starting to shake.

Polina adopted the posture and took hold of Jun's hand. Deliberately, she put her left hand behind her back, and said, in accented but understandable Japanese, "You can use your whole body for leverage if you like. I do not care."

Jun pressed her lips tightly together and shook her head, putting her left hand behind her as well. The two arms were incomparable – Jun had a strong, beautiful, well-shaped arm, but it looked as though it were half the girth's of Polina's. It just looked like a complete mismatch to Kaito's eyes. And yet... even from this distance, Okamoto Jun's resolve was palpable. He found her bravery somehow very attractive, the way it was displayed in every aspect of her posture, in her facial expression, in the defined lines of her tensed muscles.

The referee's hand came chopping down, and immediately Jun threw herself against Polina's arm with a shrill shriek. Several moments later, she was looking almost laughable. Polina's arm had budged not at all, and Jun's face showed dismay as she realized just how outmatched she was. Polina simply gave her a wintry smile, more like a smirk, and her arm muscles undulated slightly as she began pulling on Jun's arm with more pressure. Jun's body bent over to the right as she desperately but futilely tried to ease the strain on her biceps.

Then, Polina stopped for some moments with Jun's hand hovering a mere inch off the table. She appeared to be barely exerting herself, and on the other side Jun was clearly giving her all, writhing and shaking, her face starting to redden with chagrin as she realized she was being toyed with. She gave another shrill scream and tried to jerk her hand up, but to no avail.

Polina spoke. "Will you submit to me, little girl? I will make it hurt less if you do."

Jun bared her teeth – a strange look for such a pretty girl, Kaito thought. Beside him, Bachiko snorted once in amusement but remained quiet, with arms folded across her chest. Jun wildly shook her head, and continued struggling.

And then Polina, with almost negligent ease, lifted Jun's hand a foot off the table and slammed it into the reinforced metal!

There was a sickening crack – for a moment Kaito imagined he'd heard it, but an instant later as the crowd came to life and the thrill of shock swept through it on a wave of murmurs, and as Jun at the same time crumpled to her knees, clutching her trembling hand, it became clear that it had happened. The Soviet strongwoman had just broken Jun's hand! Kaito gulped, and his hand twitched as he felt a twang of sympathetic pain on the poor girl's behalf. No telling what the extent of the injury was, but one thing was for sure, judging by the tears being squeezed out of Okamoto Jun's pretty eyes – the pain was severe and debilitating.

Polina herself seemed unmoved, standing there impassively as the table was hurriedly carted off, leaving her towering over her kneeling opponent. Only a small smile played across her stony features as she gazed down at Jun, who was trying to master herself and regain her composure.

Slowly, Jun rose to her feet, wincing visibly. Her right hand was in a half-claw, and she did not appear able to make a closed fist with it.

"She starts the match with one handicapped hand, just like that..." Kaito murmured. "Just like you did, Bachiko-chan."

"Her spirit is strong," Bachiko remarked quietly, "but it will not be enough. This match is not for my opponent to test herself. For her, it is a naked display of power and dominance. Some of the matches are like that."

That didn't sound very noble or honorable! Kaito said as much. Surely the Arena should match each woman with someone who could more or less be her equal.

"What honor is there in shying away from a challenge, in hiding from an opponent you think you cannot beat, in running away because you think you are outmatched? What woman who does that can truly call herself onna-bugeisha, a woman warrior?"

Jun slowly raised her left hand, her uninjured one, and held it up high, palm open. She was challenging Polina to a one-handed test of strength with her good hand. A wave of appreciative applause went through the spectators, and the defiantly proud gesture earned Jun a wider smile and a nod from her huge opponent. The Pulverizer stepped forward and put her right hand against Jun's left.

As Kaito looked upon this tableau raptly – the smaller Okamoto Jun overcoming her pain and fear, one arm locked with the much larger and stronger Polina Petrovna, both their bodies flexed and tensed as they prepared to begin their unequal test of strength – he thought he began to understand.

In this Arena, a woman put aside her false pride and concern with public image. So many young people in Japan, especially those of Kaito's generation, went through their lives "afraid to lose". Their elders went ahead with their dreams, humbly but with a certain pride in their humility, and to the Japanese there was no paradox. The humble could always hold their heads high because humility was not the same as meekness.

A man who opened a sweets shop or a ramen shop in a poor part of town did so because it was the best place he could afford, but he would put his heart and soul into it and make every product in his shop the product of love and dedication. Students in the old days would enter sports competitions to represent their classes, or their schools, and it didn't matter that they weren't the most athletic, the important thing was that that took part and gave it their all. A salaryman worked to support his family, and did the best he could as one small part of a greater hold, but he knew why he was doing it, day in day out. Their efforts would be recognized, their spirit would be acknowledged. This was Japan.

Or it had been. Now, it was the age of social media. Japan had always managed to ape American culture in superficial ways, while retaining its strong Japanese cultural core, but now, people mocked entrepreneurs for being "reckless", and they shook their heads with quiet self-satisfaction at every story of failure they heard. "They shouldn't have been so foolish", people of Kaito's age would say, people in universities who were already jaded with life and thought they know how society "really" functioned. "The banks control everything, along with the zaibatsus. Why try to be anything if you can't be something? Why put yourself out if you can't be the best? Who would want the shame of losing? The world worships winners! Why should Japan be any different?"

In other words: "If it's difficult to win, why should you even try?"

But in this Arena... an Arena where a woman could find herself reduced to a trembling, bloodied wreck, possibly having pissed herself; where a woman would pit her body and will against another woman's body and will, and the stronger would dominate the weaker, sometimes in painful and humiliating ways; where not even the slightest lip-service was given to traditional bounds of propriety for women's behavior; here in this Arena, it was raw. It was simple. It was... Kaito smiled as he found the right word for it...

It was pure.

Jun was already being overpowered by Polina. With just one arm the massive Russian juggernaut had sent Jun to her knees. But Jun struggled on, flexing her single upraised arm to her absolute limit. She would never be one of the greats. She did not have the lineage of Bachiko, the sheer genetic advantage of women like Kaori or Polina. Yet, she and dozens of other young women across Japan came to this Arena to suffer in matches like this. Not for the money – there were other, far easier ways of earning money. It was for the honor – not the shallow kind of honor that involved public opinion, but the kind of honor you either had or didn't have, the kind that determined what you did when no one was looking, the kind that kept Jun struggling on in front of an audience against a vastly superior opponent, no matter how weak it made her seem in comparison.

With a crack, Polina broke Jun's wrist. The scream shattered the suddenly still air, and Jun knelt there, cradling her hands, tears streaming down her face which was a mask of agony. Despite himself, Kaito half rose to his feet, gripping the balcony tightly. "They must stop!"

"They will not stop until she submits, or until she is unconscious," Bachiko reminded him.

As Kaito looked on incredulously, Jun slowly rose to her feet. Her knees wobbled and bent inwards. Her arms were limp. But she stood there, facing the impassive Polina. And then... she yelled and threw a low kick at Polina's leg.

There was a wave of applause. Her fire was recognized and appreciated. And it melted the icy façade of her opponent slightly, who cracked a smile – naturally, her massively muscled leg had not shifted in the slightest.

Wordlessly, Polina stepped forward and wrapped her huge arms around Jun, pinning the smaller Japanese girl's arms to her side almost effortlessly. Jun could only writhe around in token resistance. Even from that distance, Kaito could see the fear and apprehension on Jun's face. He did not blame her in the slightest – he knew what was coming. He'd done his research.

"Her signature move..." he murmured. Bachiko grunted in agreement, leaning forward to observe more intently.

Polina then bore Jun down to the floor, at the same time wrapping her much thicker legs around Jun's. She was a spider, and Jun was trapped in her web, helpless, as she began to squeeze. Utter dominance – the much bigger woman crushing the smaller beneath her, arms crushing arms and torso, legs crushing legs. Polina's back was a mountain of ridged, rippling muscle, shifting like tectonic plates as she relentlessly crushed and crushed. Jun's face, visible to the side, turned redder and redder, and her mouth open wider and wider as she gulped for air that could not enter her lungs. She writhed, but could barely move any of her limbs even an appreciable fraction of an inch.

An Iron Curtain had descended upon Okamoto Jun.

And yet, she fought on, enduring the immense crushing pressure, fading, fading, until finally a barely audible "I submit" was forced from her lips, picked up by the hidden microphones Fujiko had mentioned and transmitted around the Arena.

Polina finally released the Iron Curtain, and rose to her feet. Jun lay there, barely conscious, only her fingers and toes twitching and her eyelids fluttering. The victorious Polina placed one foot on Jun's abdomen, and slowly raised her arms up high. There had never been any doubt that she would win.

But what Kaito would previously have regarded as sadism or cruel delight, he now saw with fresh eyes. That gleam in Polina's eyes as she smiled was not a wicked gleam, but the gleam of an enjoyable triumph over a willing and enthusiastic opponent. It was the delight of a match well-fought, even if it had been one-sided, because the thrill came from knowing your opponent had given you her absolute best, and you had been strong enough to prevail and dominate. And so, Kaito knew that the rapturous applause and ovation was not just for Polina's rather brief domination of her smaller opponent, but for young Jun as well, for being so gallant and courageous.