C.S.D.
TPA didn't really have fixed working hours.
But at Clint's order to be there by ten, we showed up early in the morning.
Just as I'd half expected, at seven a.m. the only people in TPA's weight room were the four of us.
Even the security guard looked startled to see us out so early.
We ran through the same routine we'd always done at the academy—stretching and yoga, then weights, and finally breakfalls.
While we were at it, Jane, Anthony, and Sophia with her camera appeared.
“Looking at all that sweat, you must've gotten here early. Bodies all warmed up?”
“Good morning!”
After the greetings, James reported that we were fully loosened up.
Before we knew it, James had become our spokesperson.
“Good. Nothing major—I just want to see your signature moves and finishers. And maybe add a few.”
“And Inquisitors!”
“Yes, ma'am.”
“Thunder Storms will be here at two. Practice your teamwork then.”
“Understood.”
After that, from James all the way to Selma, everyone got their techniques checked over.
There wasn't a single problem with the completeness of the moves.
The only critique was that their roll-ups—moves that could create real variables in a match—were weak.
“You two's power is average for male wrestlers.”
“So you need to go for surprise pinfall wins with roll-ups often, but yours are too weak. Make them more varied.”
“Same for you, Selma.”
“Yes. Understood.”
“I'll practice more.”
Then it was my turn.
The crash-test dummy was decided as ninety-kilo James—with five-kilo sandbags strapped to both wrists and both ankles.
“Your opponent Olivia weighs a hundred kilos. Actually more than that.”
“You need to handle at least this much.”
“No problem.”
I ran through every signature starting from the atomic drop.
“Try a suplex too.”
“Yes.”
Facing James, I grabbed his neck with one hand and his side with the other.
Then I twisted his side slightly; James hopped a little, and I immediately hoisted him vertical and flipped him over.
-Thud-
“The signal is pinching?”
“Yes.”
I answered shortly, and James nodded.
“Very good. Both of you had great timing. Now try it on me once.”
Anthony, who had only been watching, stepped forward.
About Alf's weight, maybe?
“You can do a delayed suplex, right? The one where you pause briefly then flip.”
“Yes.”
“I won't jump for you.”
“Think of it as a botch—a missed technique or timing. Just lift me with your own strength.”
“Understood.”
I'd done this with D-Von.
D-Von had said, “In his younger days, Bibi Dudley wouldn't take moves well if he didn't like you.”
And in scenarios where you were booked to lose, there were wrestlers who got so pissed they simply refused to sell properly.
So we'd practiced botch situations under exactly those assumptions.
No way I was going to fail.
I took one deep breath and immediately hoisted Anthony up.
Vertically—me and Anthony in a perfect straight line.
After pausing about three seconds, I said “going” quietly, then flipped Anthony's body back.
All I could do after that was grip his neck tightly so he wouldn't get a concussion.
-Thuuud-
His breakfall was worse than James's, so the sound rang a little louder.
Still, the moment I released my hand, Anthony got right up.
“Whoa! It's been a while since I took one—dizzying.”
“Are you okay?”
“I'm fine. Only my back hit. You gripped my neck tight so my head didn't touch. You did great.”
Once that succeeded, Jane made another request.
“Now let's see a sit-out powerbomb.”
“Yes.”
I first hit James with the sit-out powerbomb I'd named the K-Powerbomb, then once more on Anthony.
Grabbing Anthony's waist with both hands, lifting him high, then sitting down and driving him into the mat.
-Thuuud-
Once the move completed, I immediately released my hands and stood up.
Jane asked Anthony, still lying on the floor.
“Anthony, how was it?”
“Damn it!”
At the question, Anthony suddenly shouted “Damn it!”
“What's wrong? Did you hit your head?”
No way.
I had absorbed most of the impact with my hips.
It should have been less impact than the previous suplex.
“No. You're just too good. This kid does it way better than Michael. Doesn't hurt at all.”
“I could take it as many times as you want.”
Jane Kim stayed silent for a few seconds before speaking.
“Rina. Could you do a chokeslam like The Undertaker?”
“One hand grabbing the neck and lifting, the other supporting the waist….”
“If you can do that, I'll make you a powerhouse no matter what.”
Oh yeah!
“Of course. For Coach Harrington, it's as easy as pie.”
“Holy crap. What kind of body are you? Your forearm is thinner than my wrist.”
“Mega super ultra combat-compressed muscle.”
As I finished speaking, without any warning, I grabbed Anthony's neck, supported his lower back with my left hand, and lifted him vertically.
“Uh. Uh.”
“Here we go.”
I threw him so his waist hit the canvas first.
-Thuuud-
I clearly saw it.
Waist first, then back, neck, and finally the back of the head….
Even without coordinating, even as a surprise, it went in perfectly.
“Ouch, my back!”
It shouldn't have been enough to make him clutch his back.
“Anthony, does it hurt a lot? Did you land wrong?”
“Hey! You okay?”
Jane and Sophia asked in turn.
Anthony waved his hand and stood up.
“This was too perfect too. My back hurts because I'm old. Old.”
“Kid, just make her a powerhouse. The impact's gonna be insane. This will definitely sell.”
That's it. Good job, Anthony.
“Alright. I said it, so I'll keep the promise. Let's see the rest of the finishers too.”
“Yes! Understood!”
“Look at this kid getting excited.”
Against James I unleashed the Downfall—Eclipse—and the K-Star Press as well.
The landing spots were accurate, and since James and I got up without much pain, the coaches nodded in satisfaction.
“All good. Adding a suplex to the signatures and a chokeslam will make you a complete powerhouse.”
“Thank you.”
I bowed my head in thanks at Jane's words, and right away came the “but.”
“But the submission. Let's change that to something else.”
“Walls of Charina?”
“That move isn't actually weak, but to the fans it has the image of being too weak now.”
“If you win with it against a strong opponent, they won't buy it.”
I had a feeling this might happen.
“I agree with Jane. There are hardly any wrestlers using Boston Crabs anymore.”
“Something like a figure-four leglock or a crossface would be better.”
“Use that just as a signature, only for getting countered, and we need a real finisher-level submission that shows you winning for real.”
Anthony and Sophia also wanted to add a different submission.
I looked at Jane and spoke up.
“Actually, I created a submission of my own. It should be original—no one's ever used it in pro wrestling.”
At the word original, Jane's eyes seemed to sparkle.
“You made it yourself? Not a modification?”
“Yes. It's probably a submission no one's ever even seen.”
“Really? Let's see it.”
I looked at Selma outside the ring.
“Th-that one's embarrassing….”
“Don't want to?”
“It's not that.”
“That's because you're thinking dirty thoughts! Get up here already.”
Selma, ears slightly red, entered the ring.
“After a drop toe hold, straight into it.”
“Okay.”
Selma bounced off the ropes once and ran this way.
I lay on my side and hooked Selma's legs with both feet, tripping her.
To the prone Selma I inserted both legs deep between hers like scissoring.
My legs that climbed onto her upper body pressed down on her head while both arms twisted her ankle.
“Whoa. It's original, but the pose is a bit….”
“Ankle lock while lying down—does that even hurt?”
I pressed down on Selma's thigh with my upper body and twisted a bit more.
“Kyaaah. It hurts! I give! I give!”
Selma immediately screamed and called for the tap, so I released right away.
“Selma. Was that acting just now? Did it really hurt?”
“Coach Vanini. You try taking it once, Coach. It really hurts.”
“Yeah? Then I'll take it once.”
Sophia came up and immediately lay prone, and I applied the same submission.
Sophia struggled to escape, but she was pinned under me, and her head was pressed by my legs so she couldn't get out.
And when she tried to flip her body, I immediately twisted the ankle.
“Aaagh! Stop! Stop. I give.”
“Yes.”
As soon as I released, Sophia also stood up clutching her ankle like Selma.
“Sophia! How was it?”
“It hurts. Too hard to get out of.”
“Body crushed, and this kid's strength is too much—hard.”
“You should've tried twisting Rina's ankle too.”
“In a prone position, hard to put power into it. So it doesn't turn.”
“Rina's strong, but too flexible.”
“With the legs pressing the upper body, I don't know what to do.”
“That bad?”
Anthony reacted like that to Jane and Sophia's words.
That bad? Really?
I hadn't tried it on James, but I had on Alf.
Alf had also tapped out in under five seconds.
In my opinion, without a scenario, the only wrestlers who could power out of this were powerhouse-type male wrestlers.
This old man needed to take it once to come to his senses.
“Coach Harrington, would you lie down once?”
“I'm still strong, you know. Not dead yet.”
“Yes. Yes.”
I did the same to Anthony lying prone.
Anthony, lacking flexibility, declared the tap the moment I twisted the ankle.
“Damn. This ain't a joke. The pose is weird but it's quite powerful.”
“Rina, how did you come up with this?”
“Just happened somehow….”
I could never say I copied it from yuri content.
“Name of the move?”
“Official name is Scissors Ankle Lock, and when using it….”
“Scissors Ankle Lock? Pretty intuitive. Registration name? What are you going to call it when using?”
Ah, screw it. Let's go for it.
“Charina's Scissors of Desire. I'll call it CSD.”
At my words, James and Alf hung their heads, and Anthony went “ahem” with a fake cough.
And Sophia and Jane immediately turned their backs, and one of them muttered as if to herself.
“That kid... that kid's a bit weird. Seems a little crazy.”
The only one looking at me straight on was Selma, grinning bashfully.