2019-09-20 - It went till the 9th round


a run in between two martial Artists in a Dojo leads to a heats match…

Log Info:

Storyteller: None
Date: Fri Sep 20 19:26:38 2019
Location: Hell's Kitchen

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Tranquility is a difficult thing to find in the city. It is elusive, with the threat constant of traffic and other sources of white noise. It's enough to make one imagine that peace is a sacrifice one must make for living in such a metropolis. Yet if one knows where to find them, where to look, they'll come across small havens of peace. Small areas where the world seems to be held off and some hint of introspection can be gained.
Such as at Master Saito's.
On the edge of Hell's Kitchen closest to the Asian Quarter. Saito's place of training was not advertised. There were no signs without displaying a wish for students. There was no hint to passers by that behind the door in the wall there might be a beautiful Japanese garden complete with quiet trickling water and the faint sound of a bamboo water feature thunking against a stone in the stream. They also wouldn't know that many of the city's martial artists train there, attempting to focus inwards.
And so, when he tries to find some respite from the world, the man known as Matt Murdock takes himself there. Either there or Fogwell's Gym and today… he was feeling more inclined to rest and exercise, than the aggression needed for Foggy's.
So within that dojo, the garden behind him with the doors open, Matt moves quietly through a series of movements. The slow leisurely drift of a kata, taken at perhaps half speed. His body moves effortlessly, perfectly held in its precision. A loose gi is worn, though the belt is white as if he cared no to claim a rank.

While Saito's school was rarely advertized and only known to those that he had hand picked from other trainign groups, Junko Saito was among those chosen. Not that she was related to him in a close manner - the name Saito was like sand on a beach in Japan, being the tenth most common. On the other side, to Japanese, all japanese were remated enough to warrent being extended extended family outside of japan… to some far fetched degree. Junko had earned her place among the knowing by hacing to train just as much or even harder as the other students there.
As Junko arrives, she has packed some of the tools she couldn't use in all those classes with the other new yorkers. Rope, a Jitte, stuff that was rarely trained with outside of the holy grounds of Saito's hidden dojo. Stopping at the gate, she bows to the scroll on the wall with the slogan of the day - serenity - before stepping fully inside, sorting the hakama and gi she wore. No sign of her school, no sign of rank, a typical way of the jiujutsu and kendoka. Only skill was what measured people in the arts, not rank.
Seeing Matt training, the young woman aproaches, her bare feet stepping quite softly on the small pathway to the training site. But the little crunches of the small gravel stops as she ends at the two steps up to the Dojo proper, where Matt was training. "Kombanwa." she greets with a bow, in japanese of course, wishing a good evening.

The young man with the dark red hair turns and she'll likely notice then the glasses he wears. Curious, since such affectations aren't usually allowed as sunglasses so dark in color. But she is perceptive, likely quick on the uptake as when he turns his head to face her and returns her bow, that the glasses are not an affectation a'tall.
"Hello," His voice is warm, pleasant as he straightens from the bow, his head not /quite/ focusing in her direction. Tilted a little to the side he murmurs, "Forgive me if I intrude on your training time, I asked Master Saito if I could stop by and he agreed but he did mention others might well need to train as well."
He uncurls a hand towards her, greeting made in the Japanese style, he offers a handshake in the European vein. "My name is Matt. Matt Murdock."

A couple moments Junko seems puzzled by the glasses, finally getting up the two steps before gently using the back of her hand on his in a little gesture that she had gotten close before taking his hand for a short but firm handshake. "In the contrary, Murdok-san, I am intruding into your training. please forgive my intrusion. I am Junko Saito. The name is just a coincidence, Saito-sensei and me are not related."
There is a tiny sound as she shifts her weight, the rope hanging from the Jitte tucked into the Hakama making a soft impact to the wide trousers. "Master Saito's Dojo is always open to those he deems worthy."

"Indeed, it's a kindness given." Matt smiles and straightens up, looking a little flushed from his workout, no telling how long he has been there so far but enough to get some color on his features and a faint sheen of sweat upon his brow. "But I am glad to meet you, Saito-san." He takes a step back, two, allowing her more access to the hard wooden floor of the dojo. "I intend to be only a bit more then I shall leave you to your privacy."
Though she might not know it Junko is being judged, gauged subtly by the man there before her. Just listening to the steady pace of her heart, the rush of blood with her pulse, considering the steady intake and outrush of her breathing. Even her movements were considered, letting him have some small measure of insight into her, knowing she is well trained and skilled.
Though the hidden Jitte, that might cause a quirk of an eyebrow though it goes unmentioned. "If you will excuse me," He then steps back and returns to the ready position, arms down at his sides. His breathing steadies.

Junko nods a little on his comment about Saito-sensei, adding some words to it only after she had started the gesture. "Indeed, his kindness knows few bounds." She moves a little further, the bare feet on the hard wooden floor, the ruffling of the wide hakama accompanying every step, the strudy fabric of the Kosode following her pace.
A moment she seems to focus herself, just as he readies himself, then she pulls the steel bar free from the belt of the Hakama, the left hand taking the rope, and she slowly assumes a basic stance, the feet shoulder wide, the right turned outside, the single prong of the tool downwards. Her breathing is relaxed, the pulse almost normal, yet he muscles in arms and legs are ready, tensing up.

There is room enough for both of them, and he has chosen a corner that needs but ten feet square perhaps for the slow and steady movements that he needs. To some they execute a kata with a rush, intensity, short sharp movements and strikes. But this Matt Murdock is slow and methodical, and the strikes are just as controlled. He turns smoothly to the side as he slips into form easily. One leg lifts as he turns and he brings the knife's edge of his foot up and across slooowly until he is fully extended in a high side kick.
The fabric of the gi pants whispers with his movements, sliding along the side of his leg upwards. He's able to hold that movement, no trembling, perfect control, with the tight musculature of his legs standing out along the line of that extended kick.
Then he is moving again, turning, fists bunching and thrusting forward, body fully clenched as if performing an isometric exercise. It is a slow movement, but it is powerfully executed and takes much from him.
All told he spends four… five more minutes executing the kata. And then at the end he straigtens up, arms at his sides again as he executes a slooooow exhale that sounds softly like a 'hhasaaaaaah' and then cuts it off sharply as he bows.

The movements of Junko are different. They are following some distant, non audiable melody. Fluent at first, like a Shakuhachi playing along, heavy, slow, fluently, the left hand sorting the length of rope, the right performing a couple gestures towards the shadow on the corner. Tension builds as she follows the song of silence, concentrated, only creating the sounds of the fabric bent and ruffled and her breathing, carefulyl put into the short breaks in between the movements.
As if the play had changed into a new part, the pattern changes. Now the movements of the right seem to follow a Shamisen mixing into the silent music, a duet of sorts, accentuated strikes and stabs with the rodlike Jitte while the left performs longer, bending, swings, the rope getting guided around the immaginary enemy. Then the movement halts as if the music abruptly ended, left arm pulled far back, the right against the immafinary enemy's throat… and would he be real he might be all black and blue from the hits and at the same time tied up into a neat bundle. Some long moment she stays still, no movement, not even a breath, her heart having gained in speed over the course of the kata, hammering in her chest… and then the tension lessens as she straightens with a long exhale, bowing to the slogan of serenity after.

The man in white finishes before she does, so he has a few moments to step back and away, clearing the floor for her as she unfolds and uncurls into those sharp clean movements. He cannot see her assuredly, cannot track her. But despite that he is aware of the well-practiced ease with which she executes her form.
Settling down on the edge of the dojo floor, he withdraws a small bottle of water and twists the top, holding it for a time. He'll hear the soft thip-thap of her bare feet upon the floor as she moves, twisting around that imaginary enemy and binding him. He tilts his head, listening, haring the steady pounding of her heartbeat in her chest, that slow controlled exhalation.
Though an observer might well think it was a dance or a gentle progression, the man without fear can tell that if she were facing another… they would be bound, or rendered helpless… or worse.
It's only when she stops moving that he lowers his head towards her, seated where he is in seiza. Then his smile lifts as he offers, "Continue to perform as well as that, and Master Saito may well claim you as family." That said he will lift the bottle of water towards her should she so wish.

"While I am honored by that sentiment, it seems unlikely to me. My family would never allow me to be adopted to another and taking me away from my position as their Yojimbo." She controls her breath as she tucks the Jitte into the Hakama's belt again and then sorts the rope back together, bundling it all up and then hooking a loop over the handle of the tool.
A smooth movement gets her down to kneeling, a pair of strike of her hands sorting the baggy hakama to tuck under with a flapping sound, ending her gracefully in seiza. "You are not half bad for someone that back in the days of Samurai would have become a Biwa Hoshi." A Lute priest, a bline musician…

The glasses reflect her image back to her, giving her little insight into his thoughts though the smile he gives is easily offered and seems sincere. "Master Saito's loss then, assuredly." As he says this he takes a sip from the bottle, just a squeeze and it squirts water into his mouth then he sets it down before him. Should she wish she may, but should she not it's doubtful he'll take umbrage.
"My father was a boxer, and from there I took an interest in other martial arts." A surprising route to take, especially for someone with his realities. "I do as I can. The exercise, the kata. I do spar, though I find it easier to practice the grappling arts than the striking." His lip twists as he adds, "For obvious reasons." Much easier to grapple with someone when you can't see than to strike out.
Though perhaps she might find that he's not too much a slouch in that regard either, some day.
"Yojimbo, however." His eyebrows lift behind those glasses and then he adds, "That would not have been my first choice as to your profession." Perhaps a loaded statement, but then he goes on to touch his chest with one hand, "I'm noting quite so adventurous. I practice law at times."

"The art of Law is quite related to the art of war." Junko responds with a light chuckle, barely suppressed by lifting a hand in front of her lips. "Yojimbo though is a family tradition. The firstborn of the side branch of the family is to become the main branch's guardian, eventhough it is mainly ceremonial in these days. It does ensure the prolonged luck of the company though, so the family council has no intention to change it even in these days."

The redheaded man smiles and turns his head slightly away as if mildly embarrassed, but then he turns his head back and tells her, "That is kind of you to say, and true in some ways, but flattering in others." Self-deprecating, he turns aside the compliment gently but then uncurls a hand towards her, "Sounds like a position of honor, however. And you are clearly well-trained to fill your role."
Then there's a ghost of a smile, a hint of teasing as he asks her, "Does it pay well?"

"Well enough to live 12 hours by air away from the company headquarters and have a brownstone in the city all paid off, though that was my late father's achievement." There's a hint of sadness in her voice as she mentions her father, but the redhead seems to cope with it well. Or had come over it.
"While a position of honor and duty, it leaves me with only training and my own devices for about 50 weeks of the year. So I fill my days with training."

Those eyebrows remain raised and he smiles to her, then nods once as he considers not just what she said, but the way in that she said it. There's no sign of dissembling from her, no hint that there is more to the spoken word save that soft hint of sadness. But then he nods, seeming to accept it.
"Do you find that fulfilling? Training so long and often?" There's a small smile at the corner of his mouth as he adds, "Do you have hobbies or other things that take your attention?" But then a ghost flickers over his features and he lowers his head slightly in apology.
"Forgive me, I should not be so curious. It's the defense attorney in me." Another small smile is given and then he tries anew. "Perhaps some day in the future we can spar together and you can teach me what fifty weeks a year in training can offer."

"At times it can be boring, but what else is there to do? Vigilantism is a crime as you surely know, and I am by far not fit to join the Avengers, mere mortal that I am. I mean, sure, they have Tony Stark and the Wakandan Ambassador Princess, but the one is wearing an armor of his own making, the other is a foreign dignitary." Even if he is adept at spotting lies, she seems to have ingrained the sentece of being a mere mortal, telling it without her heartrate raising or her breath changing.
"I can't start a company without my family's ok, either, so I spend the time I am not training reading or doing the fine arts. Origami, calligraphy. At times I try myself at Ikebana, but I am by far not good at it."
"If you feel ok with your handicap to face me, surely I can try it, but you might want to specify in what kind of style you'd want to face me, as I am trained in quite a variety of weaponry, and it would be quite unfair to challenge you in Kyudo or with an arquebuse."

Matt's eyebrows raise as he listens to her, following along with her tale and is smile remains though he does look a touch chagrined as he replies. "You have clearly given this some good amount of thought." He nods once and then murmurs, "Though I have an associate that could use some aid from someone as yourself if you are free to use your skills for another client. If not then he might just like to get to know you. My partner at my law firm."
No further elaboration is given, however. They'll have to go into it more later. Instead he slaps his hands upon the fabric of his gi pants and then pushes himself to his feet with one smooth graceful motion. "But very well, Ms. Saito. Shall we try several falls of jiu-jitsu? I am hoping you can teach me aspects of the art that I am not familiar with and perhaps I can offer what few pointers I might grant."
He extends a hand towards her to help her up, "Shall we?"

Junko gets up in a smooth fashion without the hand, having apparently spent hours training so, and being quite flexible. "I am not free to pick up clients, as that could be seen disrespectful to my family, but I am free to teach your partner how to defend himself, as that would be preserving the cultural heritage of my people and I have the OK to do that without doubt. Teach a man how to fish, so to say."
Standing, she takes Matt's hand to guide him to the area that has soem Tatami mats, or at least that is her plan. He might feel the difference in her muscle's tension. And she still hasn't put the Jitte away yet.

The redhead's footfalls are mostly quiet as he takes those steps, giving her hand a small squeeze of thanks once he feels the shift of fabric beneath his feet revealing to him that they are on the open training area. He'll walk along the edge of those tatami mats and finds one corner, then walks the precise amount of distance needed to stand in the middle of the far side.
Turning to face her he says, "First one to five submissions, is that acceptable with you?" Considering that they should be reasonably easy-going between them, then again if she spars as strongly as she executes her forms, then he may be in for a smidge of difficulty.
"Do you have any rules you'd wish to add?"

A couple moments the female sorts her Hakama, putting away the baton and rope at the edge before joining the rink, carefully sizing up to the center. Of course, she was shorter and lighter, probably less muscled, but she had more than 15 years of harsh trainign under her belt, the movements well ingrained into her. As she assumes the basic stance, the hands at her sides, she shakes her head. "I don't need special rules, that is none over the rule of Saito-sensei not to destroy the dojo or use fire inside."
Bowing, she waits for him to do so before her left foot glides forward carefully, the light ruffle of the tatami and hakama against each other, her hand lodging itself into his Gi and tugging with the force of a well trained female, but not without seemign to give half a moment of time for him to find his footing, to notice she has the grab, as she fight against the handicapped lawyer, not wanting to throw him through the room.

The bow is returned, precise, perfect in its execution. His glasses reflect her eyes back to her as if they were holding each others' gaze, then he rises and settles into stance, hips turned, left foot forward and balance light upon the balls of his feet. One hand is held before him and open, the other is back and a little lower.
She steps closer and it is a kindness given that she takes the time to make sure he's aware of her proximity. Even if she didn't know that he could feel the shift in air pressure, the subtle change in heat from her nearness, the faint scent of her hakama and jacket as well the scent of her shampoo and that faint tang of sweat.
She grips and he returns the favor, hands digging into her lapel as he turns his head slightly away, listening to the pace of her heart. There's a moment each gives the other, then he shifts his balance a little forward, a little back, foot lifting to press against hers…
It's the first few moments shared between the two of them in a match such as this, so there is a feeling out of strength, of skill. And then when he feels she might be ever so subtly off balance he pulls and drops to one knee, trying to draw her gently over his hip and down to the mats with a soft /thump/, not seeking to follow up with a submission. More letting her know… that she doesn't have to be gentle with him. That he knows what he's doing.

Junko actually is somewhat surprised as he goes into a fairly well executed drop to throw her over, her body following the inertia he used to get her down to the mat, but as he doesn't go after the position he put her in, she repositions her legs to swipe him. A good attempt of a turnaround, clearly not the standard Jiu-jitsu practiced in lots of schools but stemming from a different background of fighting in heavy armor. Even while on the ground, she yanks away the foot he had knelt onto out from under him, using his falling weight to pull herself up and over him, trying to pin his upper arm to the floor with one hand. "You are good…" she comments, even as the position isn't entirely perfect for a point. Many lesser fighters might acknowledge it as a win though.

"That's funny," Matt's gi rasps as the fabric slides along the tatami, "I was thinking the same about you." and as she tries to hold his upper arm in place she'll feel him catch at her wrist of that arm she's using to hold him down, even as he lifts with his hips, one leg sliding over around her throat from behind and then the other trying to steal her balance by a short sharp impact into the back of her knee, trying to upset her and twist.
It's a classically trained maneuvar, one she has assuredly seen any number of times in the dojo and against fairly well trained opponents. The transition trying to get her onto her back with her arm between his legs elbow against one inner thigh as he tries to make sure there's pressure.
Then he attempts to lock the legs over her chest and throat while he lifts his hips in a juji-gatame. But it's not as strong as she would use in training, as he is still being… gentle? How rude.

Junko has had her fair share of sparring, and knowing when she lost, she taps out. A half minute or so later, they are facing off again, and this time she knows less qualms. She goes right for his left arm it seems, but it's a feint, releasing it as soon as Matt moves and taking his right, spinning him around his axis and kicking into the back of his knees, using the right arm she snatched at the jacket to drag it under his neck. One foot in his knee, her hip pushing against his back and the arm controlling his arm it wasn't a book perfect submission position, but it was a position that was fairly painful to get out of, and easily used to choke from or dislocate an arm.

She has that arm locked around his throat, and her bare foot jammed into the back of his knee forcing him down onto it, her weight strong upon it even as she pulls back. It's a good movement, a strong gambit as she uses position and leverage to try and lock that choke and hold down, though there is a single instant, a moment where she needs to readjust her grip to tighten down…
And it's then that he moves. His shift is timed perfectly weight off to the side to make her control less as his free hand finds that supporting leg and tries to break her balance there, using that flow and momentum to roll with her should she lose that position and move with her.
She hits the mats on her back and he rolls across, landing on all fours. One hand draws back and chambers, then as she's recovering he throws a punch down sharply onto the mats with a short /whack/ and a cry of, "KIYAI!" Only striking the mats where her head was a moment ago.
It gives them time to both rise and reset, though he says gently, "I thought it only fitting since you delved into your bag of tricks to delve into mine." There's a playful smile as he adds, "I trust that's alright with you." And then he retakes his stance.

Oh, he dug into his bag of tricks? Junko too could do that, readjusting her stance, slowly, ever so slowly and almost silently starting to circle Matt. It wouldn't fool his perfected hearing, but the attempt was made. When she assaults, again, it's a low kick, a sweep against his feet to get him on his back quickly followed by pushing herself up in a fluent movement, her foot coming down to press against his neck right after his impact. Not a classic win move, but pressing down for a split moment before releasing the pressure was an all time favorite to force a specific reaction: Grabbing for the offending foot, and she had plans for exactly that. Pulling the foot away, she moves into a kneel, smacking down with her fist at the chest he just exposed by shielding his neck… but she did break in the move at the last moment, enough to prevent breaking a rib, but not to prevent it being well felt, accomapied by a sharp exhale. Not the classic Kiai, but the controlled way of breath all so often overlooked.

The blind man's head tilted to the side, and it was tempting… so tempting to follow with her movement. But he was Matt Murdock right now, not the Daredevil. And he had to keep up the pretense. So as she slowly stepped to the side he opened his hands and made ready to grasp and grapple, as that… was expected of him. A step forward was taken, and that is the moment she moved.
She could feel the jolt of the impact of her leg as she struck hard at his shins, sweeping his balance cleanly and causing him to fall to the side. He manages he fall, however, muscle memory kicking in and training as he rolls to the side… only for her to be expecting it.
For an instant she brings that foot down nd holds it there, then he does reach up, grabbing for it… Only for her to drop down into that kneel and cracking her fist into his side. Firm. Painful. But not vicious.
It does give him a brief opening, even if she had struck full force he wouldn't be able to execute this movement, catching her wrist, twisting, and trying to bring her down onto the mats at his side. He rolls up trying to plant a knee into the side of her neck and then leaning forward to cut off the flow of blood to her brain. It's quick, at times efficient… but she likely has the training to counter.

As he's trying to pin her with the knee, Junko bends her body sideways, her head slipping out of the precarious position just before she slips smacks the edge of her hand against his throat from the side, creating an opening as she throws him off balance momentarily. She rolls berself back into a kneel, dragging him down with her hands into a chokehold, her left around his neck, the right into the back of his head, and pulling him tight against her chest.

Yanked out of position, she's able to grab him and pull him back, getting him into place in front of her, then she snakes that arm around his throat and locks it into place. She'll feel his hand upon her forearm, probing for an opening or weakness in her grip, but he can feel the swell of her bicep into the side of his neck, the clothing she wears deceptive in hiding her strength.
He tries to tuck his chin down but it's too late, even as he shakes his head and pulls left, pulls right, checking to see if she's balanced and she is. His tendons bunch as colors start to swim in front of his eyes. No tap yet, perhaps gauging how serious she is about this choke before tapping out.

Instead of giving Matt his opening, she doubles down, the right hand pressing his head forward into her arm, the muscles tightening like a vise on his neck, trying to do to him what he attempted to her momenst ago. Shutting off the vital oxygen and blood to the head. To get him into submission by deprivation. She's athletic lith, she's strong, she's a fighter… and she knows well how to get someone into dreamland. "Giving up yet?" she asks, holding him tight, waiting for the tap out… and then finally she releases him as he actually does it.
Letting him down almost gently, Junko slips back to standing. "One-One? That's still a long way to go," she comments as she stands up again, returning to her corner.

The answer to her is a nod as he rubs at his neck and tells her, "One to one," He sits up and then pushes himself to his feet, a little woozy as the darkness and the flickering lights recede. He smiles and takes up stance opposite her, footsteps quiet, nearly silent as he steps a little to the left. "It seems you are extremely talented, Ms. Saito."
That said he will give a nod as his bow, just to signal that once again he is ready. And once he receives some form of acknowledgment he'll start forward.
Tentative now, however, not quite the same blur and rush forward. They've each gained their points, and now it's to feel out exactly how good the other is. His hands reach out, bracketing her, trying to grasp the heavy fabric of that top, trying to gain a shoulder or lapel even as he protects himself with one hand ready to try and foul her own attempts.
At times she'll feel his foot try and catch hers or to push to try and knock her off balance…
Only for him to sacrifice roll forwards trying to slam his shoulder into her the first time she tries to draw him into her grip, likely figuring if he gets her down on the mats then he has the edge.

The hands of the japanese flurry as they free themselves from his grip, then take a hold of his wrists. The two struggle against each other, trying to get a better position in constant exchange, but for each grip comes a counter. They exchange the grips and grapples, but for long moments, neither has a clear upper hand with Matt holding back some… but so does Junko not fight with the full potential. It would be unfair to unpack her fox… and unpacking the foxfire would violate the dojo rules.
The fight drags on, the two battle, exchanging blows, grips, throw each other around… and they seem evenly matched. At some point, she suddenly retreats some two steps, trying to force Matt to follow, and welocmes him with a sudden jab for his arms, trying to get his knees exposed once more so she can get him down again. To get a new chance to try to get the lawyer to the floor and attempt a pin. a fast strike to his knees, then a kick to his back, throwing her weight against him.

The redheaded man in the now too warm gi had fallen into a rhythm with her, being drawn forth and back. They had each sought the edge over the other and there were points where one could have made a point, but withdrew thinking it could have been a feint. That is until she slipped in with those quick strikes.
The jabs at his arms drew him off balance and then she struck at his knees. Not enough to knock him down, but enough to break the balance for as she turned and uncoiled that long leg in a clean strike at the small of his back she was rewarded with a sharp /crack/ of impact as he fell forwards upon the tatami mats.
He was hazed for but a moment, hands pressing down on the mats as he tries to twist up and back, only for her to fall heavily onto his back and force him face first down onto the mats again. He'll chamber an elbow and try to fire it from his side into her ribs even as he tries to twist out of the pin. Whatever she tries, she'll have to try fast.

And fast she is. She grits her teeth on the jab into her side, but sneaks her arms around his neck again,repositioning to pull up again, once agan going for the choke. She presses hard, attempting to squeeze, gaining the next point, but that makes her somewhat vulnerable, as they grapple on the floor…%<180>

She had gained that tap but at this point they were moving quickly, flowing from form to form and not taking breaks to reset. Instead she released the choke and found her arm grabbed and twisted as he brought her sharply and heavily over his shoulder to land her with a /thud/ upon the mat. A fist was raised and he brought it down with a short sharp /KAI!/ shouted that signaled another point.
It went back and forth, each struggling, each attempting to get further an edge on another…
Until at the last they were tied 4-4 and had reset in the center of the mats. They each were squared up, one hand on each other's lapel and shoulder as they started to shift and move back and forth a little. They stood so close and were both smelling of sweat and exertion, bodies warm from the heavy exercise.
He tried to pull her close and he rested his head next to hers for an instant and said to her, "Good luck, Junko." The first time he said her first name, his breath was a little rough from the times she had almost choked him out.
And ten he twisted trying to throw her hard over his hip and to the ground.

The combat is tight, fierce. Matched in how they display each other. For Junko, it might be a little closer to her actual skill level than for Matt, but then again she hadn't yet resolved to unleash the fox, just like he hadn't resorted to using all his force and skill.
Resort knows a limit though. The last point in reach, she's ready to fight with a little more than just he facade. She nodded at the good luck wish. "Likewise, Murdock-san."
That's when Matt goes for the throw. She's surprisingly light, following the move… by will?! Though instead of landing hard, she lands surprisingly soft, balancing out the throw in a way that shouldn't be humanly possible. Even reeking of sweat, there's a slight change in her smell. Matted fur. But what's more important is, she easily slips up from the ground again to yank the Daredevil over her shoulder, gripping for his wrist to twist it up behind his back. What he might not see, might not feel, were the ears that had moved up along her skull, turned vulpine, and the Hakama had changed its seat, the left leg hiding a budy tail of likewise design.

Muscle memory guides him through those movements. How did she become so light and lithe in movement, the execution almost perfect. He continues with the throw as she tosses him over her shoulder, rolling with it and slapping his hand upon the mats to disperse the energy of the impact. Only to realize she has his wrist still. But it's that long training that has him _flip_ forwards, uncoiling that twist she tries to place.
It lets him draw her close as he tries to sweep her legs with a powerful rush of movement. He expects her to go down as he rises, perhaps foolishly so. As he rushes to his feet and turns, one hand reaching out as if making sure she is where he expects her to be as he goes for a pin. But as he turns it gives her his back for a brief moment if she could somehow recover faster than him.

Oh, she goes down, but for a mere moment, and by the time he reaches down she is away already, jerked to the side and in the way to spring to the feet. A foot comes up in a spin kick, aimed against Matt's head. It's not superhuman strong, but it comes with the speed and agility of a fox, channeled through her human body. The bare feet hovers after the hit, balanced out by the body, the tail helping but hidden under the Hakama.
She waits just a split second before her body moves again. The standing leg bends a moment, then propels her, the stretched out slipping over the shoulder of the blind. Clearly, she follows up with a chokehold, but not a standard arm choke. It's a thigh crush, the hakama legs hitting against the ears, then the muscles pressing against them, one foot hooking behind the other leg on his chest.

A back fist had been chambered and he had been twisting smoothly through the arc, expecting her to be set and guarding in one spot, only for her to be making that /leap/ into the air and landing upon his shoulders sharply. The hakama fabric rasps sharply as she lights on him, legs tensing, taut as she links those feet together and draws tight. For a moment it might seem like he'd support her there…
But then all it takes is for a short sharp jerk to the side and they're both going down to the mats, landing heavily with a thud, him on his side, with one hand flat upon the tatamis, a leg planting to try and gain some leverage as the other hand lifts to the inside of her thigh to try and hold her off from locking in the choke.
It's a blur of sensation between them, the movement, the impact, the blazing heat of two athletic bodies who had been working out hard and rough for over an hour, straining and striving against each other. His brow has beadlets of sweat and she can feel the heat of exertion from the man being so terribly close. And with his enhanced senses from this position the crinkly fabric of the hakama grinds, the scent of the woman he's been facing for a time is strong with stress and effort as well as her own unique smell. But something more, the hint of fur?

The muscles in the legs on his ears press, the veins inside pulse, transmit the sound of her heart beating at a fast pace. Her breathing is still controlled, even though her face is distorted in exertion. There's a sharp sound as he throws the pair back, landing on her tail, but she doesn't let go easily. She tries to stop him from thrashing around by steadying her own position, calling bac the fox as its part is done.
One moment the tail is there, the next it is gone, together with the ears, but she doesn't seem to relent in the clench. She might not manage a choke, but the hold is tight, the smell of her hakama and sweat close to his nose, her heartbeat drowning out the sounds from the room itself. Acetylcholine from alertness and exertion, Dopamine from the success, Endorphins and Enkephalins from coping with the hits she had recieved.

That hand on the inside of her thigh tenses as she doubles down, twisting his hips cleanly to try and roll her onto her side and force her to lose some of the leverage she has. He weighs more than her, harder for her to maintain control, but then again she is able to focus and maintain that grip.
There is an abrupt burst of pain in her leg as he pinches and tries to turn sharply in that moment, attempting to break her grip and pull one of those ankles off the other. If successful trying to rise up enough to slam a knee onto the back of hers to lock that leg down as he rises, trying to seize the superior position with one hand reaching for her lapel and the other drawn back to try and hold her hips down.

Junko cringes as he pinches her leg, fighting the feeling with a grunting sound. A tiny bit she relaxes the tigh clinch, only to double down and alter the position to keep him trapped.
Bending down, she reaches for Matt's chin and her own foot, pulling both up. The neck to stretch his muscles and reduce the chance to snap a nerve, the foot to tighten the grip on his body, turning it into a vise he can't hope to escape from without breaking a leg and try to force him to tap out. It has become a game of endurance now, and Junko was on her last stretch.

A low growl is heard deep in his chest as he resists. He can feel and sense that she might be on her last legs and he… he is letting his competitiveness win out over his wisdom. Matt Murdock should not be able to contend so well with a woman like her.
With his head being drawn back and her pulling on her foot it starts to cut off the flow of blood to his brain as she tightens her grip. He grimaces as he tries to resist the pull of her hand, trying to shake his head free but she's able to manhandle him hard enough to hold on. Starbursts begin to spring to life in front of his eyes, the corners of his vision starting to fade…
And then she'll feel his hand tap three times sharply on her left thigh, a quick signal of the final point being hers and won. Hopefully she'll release and let him recover, for if she holds it for even five seconds more… he'll likely pass out.

It takes her a moment to realize the tapping, her own vision starting to blur from exhaution. For Matt, the moments might feel like eternety before the pressure is reduced, the legs slowly letting him go. She doesn't need to rall to the floor anymore, allowing her to just flop backwards to catch her breath, letting go of the concentration that was spent on keeping the breath even. Her heart beats audibly, her Hakama and Kosode are ruffled up and out of order, one leg pushed up to expose up to the knee. "You are quite good…." she mutters in between breaths.

A few coughs come from him as he rolls over onto his abdomen, glasses having slipped askew as he adjusts them. But his smile is warm and wry as he tilts his head in her direction, still catching his breath as he murmurs, "I'm fortunate to be able to rise to the challenge of someone as strong as yourself."
He straightens up slowly, pushing a hand through his wild mass of hair, and then a forearm over his brow to clear some of that sheen away. Settling into a cross-legged seat he gives her a small bow of acknowledgment, "Congratulations on your victory. I'm honored to have matched against you though I have been found wanting."
And, it's true. It is always a pleasant thing to be able to find someone that can hang with him. Even if he had to take it a little easy at points. He did perform better than he should have, really needs to work on that discipline.

It takes Junko maybe a minute to recouperate, dragging herself up again into a kneep. A couple moments she tries to sort out the long red hair, then she resorts to removing the hairband and putting into a fresh ponytail. "It was tight. You almost had me."
To her, the battle was fighting her edge, she had to cheat a little. She had unleashed her fox to pull the last attack, to gain the point. So even in the objective win, there was an inner loss. A loss to her need to win. A loss to the temptation of the fox' agility. A tiny sting in her victory. But was it worth it? Probably?

That having been said he lets himself lean to the side and then fwumpf over onto his back. He rubs at his arm where she had twisted it up rather firmly, and grimaces as it makes a faint cartilaginous crackle as he releases some of the stress from it. Over to the side he says, "I am going to have bruises for a few weeks now, however. You play rough." And with that he takes a few deep breaths as if focusing and then pushes himself back upright to clamber to his feet…
A few steps carry him over toward the gymbag that he left near the small cubby holes down the steps that lead to the front door. From within he'll extract a business card which proclaims the information for Nelson and Murdock. He steps back onto the mats and extends it towards her, "In case you want to get a hold of my friend for that training opportunity. Or want a rematch sometime."
He smiles, easily offered and without guile.

Junko bends her back, actually somewhat surprised that Matt finds the way to his gym bag that easily, considering they had had a hard tumble on the floor and should have lost orientation. Her own breaths are still fast, but slowing as she works herself through a couple slow, calming gestures while kneeling.
When he returns, she looks up, puzzled a moment before getting up herself in a fluent motion that was just as well trained as her kneeling earlier. "One moment please." she asks before moving to where she had stored some of her items, picking out a small metal box before coming back herself. Stopping in front of him, she makes herself known, taking the card with both hands and reading it carefully before handing her own card over in return.
It's white, almost pristine, the characters on one side in sharp black, the other side carryig kanji and hiragana. Saito Stationary in a large font on the left, then a block on the right. Junko Saito. Yojimbo. An office address in Japan. A japanese teleohone number. And a US cellphone number.

Accepting the small card he'll take it in hand and hold onto it for now since… no pockets. But he gives he a nod as he murmurs, "Thank you, it really was a good bout." And as he says that he extends a hand in her general direction, just a little off to the side to seek a handshake. And if she accepts it he'll give a few shakes then draw her in for a one-armed embrace, just a quick /thump/thump/thump/ on the back hearty and shared between two combatants.
"You fight very well. I'm going to go change, then go get a shower. Take care of yourself, Junko." That said he turns back around, moving towards his aforementioned gym bag. The card she gave him is slid into the pouch on the side and zipped back up.

Junko is hesitant at the handshake, her cheeks flushing some as he pulls her in, staying in her tracks as he lets her go again. "Thank you again, and take care," she answers his goodbyes, staying up on the deck for a couple more moments before she goes to collect her Jitte and rope, tucing them back into the Hakama and using the chance to sort it out.

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