Asuna
Sunday. After a light lunch, we headed to the venue where Law was being held.
Waiting for us there were about thirty Law wrestlers.
"There they are."
"Ha! I thought so last time, but damn, she's filthy pretty."
"Selma's not bad either, right?"
"Looks like they brought the skilled ones this time."
A few of them muttered about our looks, but we ignored it and went straight to General Manager Aaron Pierce.
Dorothy took the lead on the greetings.
"Dorothy Oswald! It's been a while since we've seen each other like this."
"It has, hasn't it, Mr. Pierce. We arrived with seven of us, including me."
Dorothy seemed to know Pierce fairly well.
After a quick round of introductions to the gathered wrestlers, the men headed toward the men's side and we toward the women's.
The first person to welcome me was Sayuri Sane.
"I heard you drove all the way from Orlando. That must've been rough."
"We took turns driving, so it was manageable."
"Good. Glad to hear it."
Thanks to Charlotte's help last time, I'd already exchanged greetings with most of the roster—Vicky Lynch, Lisa Rayple, and the rest—so joining them went smoothly.
Dorothy's opponent was Women's IC Champion Vicky Lynch.
Selma's was Women's World Champion Lisa Rayple.
Taina drew Roxanna Perez, similar in build and style.
And my opponent was Asuna.
"Alright! I'm Jordan Backstorm, writer for Law. TPA and Law women's wrestlers with matches tomorrow—gather over here for a minute."
The eight of us clustered to one side.
"Lisa and Selma's match will have a slightly longer entrance. Two minutes per wrestler. And you two already got the runtime notice, right? Five minutes, Lisa wins. You know that?"
"Yes, sir! Understood!"
Selma answered like a soldier.
"Pfft—hahaha. What's with her?"
"Did Lisa already scare her stiff? Lisa, you didn't put the fear of God into her already, did you?"
She became the punchline, but Selma didn't seem to mind. Whether she was nervous or just locked into character, I couldn't tell.
"Next—Taina and Roxanna Perez. You two get eight minutes, Taina wins. Styles are similar, so eight minutes should be fine, right?"
"No problem."
"I can do it."
Then it was my turn.
"Charina and Asuna—also eight minutes. Result is Charina wins. Asuna, that work for you?"
"No problem. I've already finished the story."
Jordan used honorifics only with Asuna. And he looked a little surprised by her answer.
"You've already finished the story? You didn't even know how many minutes it was."
"This kid brought a story that doesn't care about match length. She can do it in twenty minutes or five."
Asuna said it while looking at me, and I nodded.
"Excellent. I'm sure Asuna will handle it. Last—Vicky and Dorothy! This one's ten minutes. Dorothy wins. Non-title, of course."
He roughly ran through the rest of the overall schedule as well.
But there was about a thirty-minute gap left open.
Just as I was thinking, Someone's ring segment?, Jordan Backstorm resolved the question immediately.
"After the matches, there's a memorial for 'Latino Heat' Rico Guerrero's twenty-second anniversary. Full roster attendance. Smash Down talent and past legends will be coming too, so keep that in mind."
At the words "Rico Guerrero memorial," the mood dropped on both our side and the WWO wrestlers'.
"What about attire?"
"Dorothy. Good question. Tomorrow we'll hand out black T-shirts to the wrestlers. Just wear those."
Rico Guerrero hadn't been an Icon in life, but after death he had become one. In his later years, "Berserker Dagan" had never received this kind of grand memorial because of his disgraceful end—but Rico was on year twenty-two.
"Anything else we need to do?"
"Nothing. Just keep the atmosphere solemn! If Stacey McMahon catches you goofing around there, you're going to have a very hard time. Ah—TPA side might not know. The person running this event is Representative McMahon. The two of them were extremely close when he was alive."
Jordan passed along a few more notes and left.
First, Selma and Lisa—the shortest match—went in and worked on their timing. Lisa seemed to have accepted Selma's input: take a little offense early, then dominate from there.
"We don't really need to practice in the ring, do we?"
I nodded at Asuna's question.
"No. Just running a few moves later should be enough."
"Then shall we start putting the pieces together? First we come out to the ring corner, look at each other, circle once, and lock up."
"I'll put you in a headlock. After that, you shove me into the ropes for a rebound and hit the dropkick."
"O.K. Then I taunt you. After that we do a little chain wrestling."
"Yeah, I like that. Then you kick my leg a few times, break my base, and go for a roll-up—how about that?"
"Not bad."
The more we talked, the brighter Asuna's expression became.
"Ha! I heard it from Sayuri, but we really do click. Good. Very good."
"Is that so?"
Asuna and I mapped the plan out verbally, then ran the simulation in a corner—not even in the ring.
Asuna was every bit the wrestler Charlotte had acknowledged. A striking-based style could have made the match monotonous, but ideas kept coming. At this rate, we could fill a mere eight minutes with something genuinely interesting.
Monday—show day.
In the afternoon we filmed the scene of me stealing Hexa's mask, then ran through the timing with Asuna one more time and finished our preparations.
My match was fourth this time, but every bout ahead of me was short, so less than twenty minutes into the show the first two matches were already over.
The third match was also an eight-minute affair, so the moment it started I got ready and headed to Gorilla Position.
"Hello."
"You're here?"
"You ready?"
I exchanged greetings with Paul and a few others.
"Charina! It's been a while."
And sitting there was someone I never expected to see—Casey Levesque.
"Ah! Casey. It's been a while."
I'd run into the three sisters at the Halloween Battle last time, but things had been so chaotic we'd only snapped a quick photo and gone our separate ways.
Today Casey wore white dress pants, a white shirt, and a black jacket.
"Did you come for Rico Guerrero's memorial?"
"Yes, that's right."
Strange. In the future I knew two years from now, neither Casey nor any of Paul Levesque's daughters had ever appeared at a WWO show.
Was this the future changed by me?
Casey's appearance wasn't bad for me in the slightest. She was a year younger than me, around the same age, and already seemed to like me. And as Stacey's daughter, she would probably take some kind of position later—which could only help.
"Casey. I've got my colleagues this time, but later let's grab a meal sometime in Orlando."
"Really?"
"Of course. Ayla and Amy can come too."
"Heh. Okay. Yeah."
"I don't like it. Talent and company people meeting like that isn't good."
Paul, who had only been listening, looked at me as he spoke.
"Dad! What company person am I? I'm still a student! And it's not like I'm meeting a male wrestler!"
"Hmm. That's true, but…"
The terrifying Paul Levesque was completely outmatched by Casey's retort.
"Tch! Dad kidnapped Mom and married her."
"No, that was the story at the time…"
Casey's words turned the whole area into a sea of laughter.
"And the one who pitched that story to Victor back then was Paul, right?"
"That's right. I was the junior producer then."
"You just wanted to try a kidnapping under the excuse of a story. Unconscious instinct coming out. You pervert!"
"You bastards! Why are you dredging up something from twenty years ago?"
"Your daughter—the second princess—brought it up first!"
Paul glanced at Casey once, let out a short sigh, and pretended to focus on the monitors.
I'd heard the rumors that Paul was a bigger daughter-fool than even Sandy Orton or Jet Hardy, but I hadn't realized it was this bad. Stephen Bogus, supposedly his equal in that department, must have been just as hopeless. And it was weird how every guy who'd played the "macho man" role turned out to be a total softie for his daughters.
While I watched the producers rib Paul, Asuna arrived.
"You're not the type who freezes in a live match, are you?"
"No. I go into hot-blooded mode."
"Good. Let's do this."
The third match ended, and a producer called for us to go.
"Charina! You're in."
"Yes."
I adjusted my backpack, stepped onto the board, and hit the stage.
My match had been advertised since last week, so the crowd's roar hit immediately. I waved, smiled bright, and headed for the ring.
When I climbed onto the apron, all seven judges were already in place. Normally only two or more showed up per match, but the Rico Guerrero memorial must have brought every one of them.
I entered the ring, greeted the crowd, and today—instead of lying across the top rope—I sat with my legs dangling and waited for Asuna's entrance.
Just sitting on a single rope drew a cheer.
Hmm. Maybe later I'll try standing on the ropes.
Asuna's theme hit and she appeared. Today she had painted her face like a white tiger. She spun in circles the way Sayuri did as she walked the ramp, seized every eye in the building, and stepped into the ring.
As planned, we started with a roll-up. I sent Asuna into the ropes for a rebound. Her dropkick followed.
— Thud —
"Ack!"
— Clang —
I flipped over backward. Asuna jumped and stomped both feet into my stomach.
"Ugh!"
As I rolled holding my gut, she grabbed a fistful of my hair and screamed like she was about to spit.
"Ha! Hey! Brat! You think just because you beat Sayuri I'm easy? Tonight I'm going to kill you completely!"
I drove an elbow into her midsection and broke free of her grip.
"Nngh!"
Now it was time for the chain wrestling.
Paul was staring hard at Charina's match.
Jordan Backstorm, Law's writer, had offered to tell him the scenario, but Paul had deliberately refused. Just like the Sayuri match last time, he wanted to know only the result and watch what kind of match Charina would build.
Whether she was matching Asuna's style or not, Charina opened with strikes and chain wrestling.
When Asuna wrenched an arm, Charina rolled forward, then rolled back again and slipped free as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She kicked Asuna's thigh, broke her base, and wrapped both arms around the waist from behind as if she were about to hit a German suplex.
Asuna whipped an elbow back into Charina's head, broke the waist lock, and escaped clean.
Their chain wrestling—from grab to transition to reversal to escape—was perfect. And it wasn't slow. It was so fast it felt like it happened in an instant.
"Whew. Those two only worked together for a day? Incredible."
Bron Freed, the executive director, marveled.
"Textbook chain wrestling, pure and simple. Asuna was always good, but Charina can do this too. Is there anything that kid can't do?"
"That sequence just now could go straight into Performance Center training footage. Really clean."
That was Baron James, the executive producer.
Then Asuna cracked Charina across the head with a forearm. As her head dropped from the impact, Asuna kicked it again immediately.
— Thwack —
Whatever she had in the instep, the sound was thunderous.
She caught the reeling Charina, dumped her, and went straight into a sudden roll-up.
— One —
— Two —
Charina twisted free. Then she rolled herself out of the ring on her own. She staggered, clutching her head as if the impact had been massive.
Asuna sprinted the opposite way, rebounded off the ropes, and squeezed her body between the top and middle ropes to dive onto Charina outside.
A perfect chest-to-chest splash.
Apparently unfazed, Asuna popped right up and started screaming in Japanese.
"Whoa—how long has it been since Asuna did a plancha?"
"Right? She's jumped from the apron or the top rope before, but a plancha like that? It's been ages."
"If it's Asuna, this is exactly how it should look. This is Asuna! Feels like years ago. Really good to see."
Paul had heard the rumor circulating among the women's roster: that Charina sold in a way that elevated her opponent's performance by a full level or more. He had acknowledged she sold well, but dismissed the idea that something that magical was possible.
Watching tonight, though, it really seemed true.
This was the Asuna of ten-plus years ago—the one who had gone on a 177-match undefeated streak in NEXT. If she had been working with someone like Miyu Sky or Sayuri Sane, partners of more than a decade, he might have understood. But this was one day. Yesterday two or three hours, today one or two. Barely five hours of practice, and this was possible?
In his forty-year wrestling life, he had never seen anything like it.
Before long both women were back in the ring. Asuna drove Charina into the corner and hit a hip attack, then even a stinkface—rubbing her rear into her opponent's face.
"Louis! How much time?"
"Six minutes forty. But Paul—is Charina really supposed to win this?"
Timekeeper Louis Ward asked as if he genuinely couldn't believe it.
Fair enough. Less than a minute and a half remained. Charina had to reverse everything and take the win in a little over a minute.
"That's right."
"How is she going to win? Maybe I should've listened when Jordan offered the scenario."
"Heh. Louis—want me to tell you?"
That was Baron, the producer who knew the scenario for camera work.
"I'm good! Not knowing makes it more fun. I'll wait one more minute."
Asuna hauled Charina up, sent her into the far corner, and chased. Charina hit the turnbuckle back-first; Asuna immediately hit a lariat, forearm across the throat.
Charina coughed and dropped her head.
Asuna grabbed the hair and yanked the head up.
"Camera three, zoom in!"
Baron barked into the radio.
From Charina's raised mouth, green liquid suddenly sprayed. It hit Asuna dead in the eyes. She screamed and rolled across the mat clutching her face.
— Aaaaaaah! —
"Hahaha! This is a masterpiece. Asuna getting hit with her own specialty—the Green Mist!"
"Whoa. So this is how the match goes. Fun."
The crowd reaction was scorching hot.
Charina wiped her mouth on her forearm, looked out at the audience, and winked. Then she drew a thumb across her throat, clamped Asuna's head between her thighs, hoisted her in one motion, and sat down hard.
A clean sit-down powerbomb.
— Boooom —
Straight into the cover.
— One —
— Two —
— Three —
The referee's count finished and the ring bell rang at once.
— Ding ding ding —
"Louis! How long?"
"Seven minutes fifty-six. Wow. This kid really…"
Louis couldn't even finish the sentence for pure admiration.
As timekeeper, Louis valued wrestlers who hit their times more than the popular ones or the skilled ones. If you asked him right now who the best wrestler was, he would probably say Charina—not Corey Rhodes or Rozan Raines.
And once again, Charina had delivered a match with a truly beautiful turnaround that lived up to every one of Paul's expectations.