Wrestling

The crowd rose with him, phones lifting into the air, the noise building into a single sustained roar.

Ray Jr leaped, wrapping both legs tight around Nakamuro’s head and neck the instant he landed, twisting his hips as he fell backward and driving Nakamuro’s skull into the canvas with the full rotational force of the move.

The impact shook the ring.

[Tanaka: POISONRANA! FROM THE TOP ROPE!]

[Braxton: Nakamuro is not moving! Neither is Ray Jr!]

Both men lay motionless on the mat, the arena roaring around them, Ray not even making a move toward a cover.

The referee dropped to his knees, checking both men in quick succession. Nakamuro’s arm rose an inch off the mat and dropped. Ray Jr’s fingers twitched against the canvas but nothing more.

The count began out of instinct rather than procedure, the referee’s voice carrying over the noise of the crowd.

"One! Two! Three! Four!"

[Braxton: Both men down! Neither one has anything left after that!]

[Tanaka: A poisonrana off the top rope is a dangerous move in this sport, Braxton. Both bodies took the impact. That’s not a one-sided maneuver.]

"Five! Six!"

Nakamuro stirred to life first. He rolled onto his side, one hand pressed against the back of his skull where it had met the canvas with speed. His jaw aching and slightly loose as he dragged himself toward the ropes on nothing but forearm strength.

Ray Jr wasn’t far behind. He planted a palm against the canvas and pushed, his shoulder still throbbing. The entire world swam around behind his mask for a second before settling.

"Seven!"

Both men reached the ropes at nearly the same time, using them to haul themselves up hand over hand. They stood facing each other from opposite corners, their individual chests rising and searching for breaths, sweat dripping steadily onto the mat between them.

[Braxton: They beat the count! Somehow they beat the count!]

[Tanaka: I don’t know where either man is finding the strength right now.]

[Braxton: Partner, all I can say is that this is amazing.]

Nakamuro pushed off the ropes, staggering forward with a wild lariat. Ray Jr ducked under it, the momentum carrying Nakamuro past him, and Ray answered with a forearm to the back of the neck that sent the veteran stumbling into the far turnbuckle.

Ray Jr charged in behind him, looking for a corner splash, but Nakamuro spun at the last second, leaving Ray splashed into the corner.

Ray staggered slightly out of the corner then Nakamuro drove a clothesline into Ray Jr’s uppersection, flipping him over the top rope and unto the ring apron.

The crowd let out a sharp gasp.

Nakamuro grabbed a fistful of Ray Jr’s tights and hauled him back into the ring through in-between the ropes. He whipped him hard into the opposite ropes. Ray Jr rebounded off it and Nakamuro caught him with a spinning back kick to the chest.

Ray Jr crashed down flat on his back.

Nakamuro climbed to the second rope instead of going for the cover, favoring his stronger leg to support his weight all the way up. He pointed down at Ray Jr with two fingers before leaping.

He came down with a diving knee drop across Ray Jr’s chest.

Ray Jr’s whole body arched off the mat with the impact, a strangled sound tearing loose from behind his mask. Nakamuro rolled off him immediately and hooked the leg.

1

2—

Ray Jr’s shoulder came up off the mat with a second to spare.

[Tanaka: He kicked out. There’s more to this match it seems]

[Braxton: This crowd cannot believe what they’re watching tonight.]

Nakamuro sat up, shaking his head, some of the calm finally cracking under the surface. He pulled Ray Jr up by the mask, dragging him toward the center of the ring, and locked in a rear chokehold, dropping his own weight down to grind the hold in deeper.

Ray Jr’s legs kicked weakly against the canvas. His vision narrowing, the roar of the crowd fading into something distant.

Ray Jr shook his whole body, the motion small and stubborn.

He planted his boots against the mat and pushed with everything left in his legs, driving both their bodies up into a standing position. Nakamuro kept the hold locked, riding on Ray Jr’s back like a parasite refusing to let go.

Ray Jr backed himself hard into the nearest corner, driving Nakamuro’s spine into the turnbuckle post. The impact broke the hold. Nakamuro stumbled off him, clutching his lower back.

[Braxton: Smart counter and quick thinking by Ray.]

Ray Jr turned, he spotted Nakamuro as he was charging back in and sidestepped him, sending the veteran chest-first into the opposite turnbuckle.

Nakamuro bounced off it and staggered backward, dazed.

Ray Jr built speed and caught Nakamuro with a running forearm smash that sent him crashing down onto the seat of his trunks.

The crowd rose to their feet.

[Tanaka: Ray Jr is hopefully finding his second wind here]

Ray Jr almost immediately hauled Nakamuro back up and whipped him into the ropes, looking for a spinebuster on the return. Nakamuro read it, ducking low at the last second and driving his shoulder up into Ray Jr’s gut, lifting him clean off his feet into an inverted atomic drop.

Ray Jr’s whole body felt the impact before tiredly getting up again.

Nakamuro didn’t waste the opening. He spun Ray Jr around and locked in a dragon sleeper, wrenching the hold tight across the throat and pulling back with everything his battered body had left.

Ray Jr’s boots left the canvas entirely for a moment, suspended in the air by the sheer force of the hold. His hands clawed weakly at Nakamuro’s forearm, fingers scrambling for a release button that wasn’t there.

[Braxton: Dragon sleeper locked in tight! This could be it!]

[Tanaka: He’s fading, Braxton. Look at his arm.]

The referee lifted Ray Jr’s arm once. It fell limp.

He lifted it a second time. It hovered for a moment before dropping again.

The crowd’s noise dropped into something anxious, thousands of people leaning forward in their seats, willing him to fight through it.

The referee raised the arm a third time.

It shook...

...then stayed up.

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