I'll point to them right now! It's...!

Enjoying everyone's attention as a strange newcomer and a decidedly out-of-place, bookish woman among professional wrestlers, I grandstanded for just a moment longer on the turnbuckle. I asked the crowd if any of them knew the answer to the mystery: who took out Desperado #1?

"I didn't realize you weren't Desperado #1!" The answer shouted from the backrow nearly made me collapse off the turnbuckle from lost momentum.

Okay, fine! So I'm the only one trying to solve a mystery here! That's always the way it is for the detective in a good story, right? It's just proof that I'm the protagonist with righteousness on my side! I decided to lay out the clues one by one, so that everyone could understand. In the other corner, Hurricail and Makiu both watched with broad, challenging grins, as though they expected me to use this to worm out of the contest in some fashion. Princess kept a frown on her face that only looked partially interested; I doubted she cared for my explanation any further than her eventual punishment of her former tag-team partner for leaving her in the lurch. Still, perhaps she'd be interested in punishing the other person behind the disappearance too. I sure hoped so!

First, let's retrace the events: Desperado #1 seemingly retired from the contest due to an injury, however, when I followed up with the hospital, I learned that she wasn't debilitated at all. Someone had paid her off! The first culprit that comes to mind-- and the obvious red herring-- would be the enemy tag team. The misleading logic is obvious: the culprit wanted everyone to think they planned to ruin Princess's tag team bout and secure the titles for themselves by forfeit. That would draw suspicion off of their real motivations.

"It was all for naught," the Princess pitched in, gesturing idly by shrugging both shoulders and raising her palms. "My partner was never an essential element of my tag-team, any further than qualifying me for this division. If she looked good in leather chaps, that was about all the Princess required. Ms. Hojo here easily filled that vacant role."

I asked her to please not use my name while the cameras were on...

"Hmph. Do not presume to give me orders."

That wasn't fair! She never lets anyone use her real name, on-camera or not! Oh well, enough worrying about that: I wanted to go on to the next part of my reasoning. Who would have anything to gain by missing the championship bout? Perhaps Desperado #1 herself wanted to get out of the bout because Hurricail and Makiu are such fearsome opponents? To save face, one might theorize she made up a story about being paid off, then ran to the hospital where she could escape any potential pursuit by her violent opponents, or her own tag-team partner, for that matter. Still... that theory doesn't quite smell right either. Desperado couldn't get this far with a fierce and dominating tag partner like the Princess if she was worried about her safety facing other strong futanaris.

"Ha! A fine observation, Ms. Hojo," the Princess chuckled, crossing her arms and smirking with approval. "Desperado #1 knows well how insulted the Princess would be if she were to place the Heavy Storms on a pedestal higher than royalty. No, it is impossible that Desperado feared the Storms while possessing the reassurance of my support and the comparative threat I levy over all wrestlers."

Right! We can assume, then, that there's no bluff here; our Desperado really was offered something very valuable to sit out the match. Who has a lot of money to mysteriously throw around for the most immoral and deviant of purposes, defying both decency and reason in his ridiculous dispersal of cash flow? Hmmmm?!

It was you, Genkei! You paid Desperado #1 to sit out the match!

My employer laughed and clapped his long hands in the front row, before flashing me a wink. "Good, Katsumi! I guess I hired a real detective, huh? You caught me!" he admitted, shrugging his shoulders. I hated that gesture more than anything! He's-- correctly-- calling me out for solving a mystery with no consequences. Angrily, I asked him to tell everyone why he did it! "Why? It's simple: I knew I had a new hire and I wanted a way to scope her out a bit. What better way to do that than front-row at a wrestling ring?! You're going to bare it all, my little detective, and it's because I engineered this whole scenario! Hm hm ha ha ha ha!" I felt like all this guy needed was black armor and a purple cape and he'd look and sound just like some bad guy out of an anime...

So that was it!? You paid all of this money just to watch me humiliate myself in a wrestling ring?

"Yep."

Well, Genkei, you genius, did you consider that I might just throw the match at this point?

No sooner had the idea left my mouth than I clasped both hands over my lips, turning nervously to view the Princess's face with a slow, timid motion. She stood with her arms spread behind her on the ropes, watching me while wearing a dissatisfied frown. I got down from the ropes. There was no escaping now... not without seriously endangering my future. The Princess was right: her favor was worth a lot. One could reason that falling out of her favor left one imperiled to an equal and opposite degree.

Don't worry, Princess. I'm in the match.

It may be the last match I ever wrestle, before I die of either embarrassment or from being lifted into the air and snapped in half like a candy bar, but I think it's the preferable way to go compared to the alternative.

I saw the Princess nod, then step out to the outer part of the ring, grabbing the tag rope. I heard the bell ring. I saw my life flash before my eyes as Makiu jumped the rope, grinning like a shark while charging me at top-speed. Her eastern skin-tone and blue leotard all became a blur as she rushed me with the speedy, weaving movements of the sea's great predator. I think she was taunting me-- probably something about my cute butt or my little dick, like everyone loved talking about in this league-- but I couldn't even focus on it.

It was all over for me. I always thought if I died on the job, it'd be in some cool, noir way-- I got too close to the truth or I pissed off the wrong kind of people. No, nothing like that... I'm just about to take the fall as the weak link in a slapped together tag team wrestling match.