"Huh? Papa?"
Still straining to hold the lock, Mizuno froze.
What the hell is she talking about? How would I know who your papa is?!
He didn't have time to think about it, though. Keeping the Love-Strong-as-Gold Seven-Day Lock steady took every ounce of focus he had. If the trapped Uma Musume found even the smallest gap, she could shatter it in an instant.
"Who exactly are you?" El Condor Pasa's curiosity only grew.
At first, she'd assumed this shady, black-clad guy was just some errand boy—one of the mysterious man's disposable underlings. Beat him, she thought, and she'd get to face the true opponent.
But now this "underling" had dodged her ambush and countered with a move she recognized all too well—one she'd seen only once before in her life.
When she was little, she'd crept out at night for a bathroom break and accidentally peeked into her parents' bedroom… where her father and mother were "wrestling." Her father had used this exact same hold.
He hadn't lasted long—his endurance failed, and her mother quickly pinned him instead—but there was no mistaking it. That lock was her father's secret technique.
So how could this stranger possibly know it? Was he… connected to her father?
Her first thought—that this cloaked man might be her father in disguise—was ridiculous. Papa was huge, broad-shouldered, pure muscle. This guy? Lanky, twitchy, totally unreliable. No way.
Then another, even wilder idea struck her.
Could he be… Papa's illegitimate son?
Sure, her father was a respectable, dependable man—but like many high-class Americans, maybe a bit too flirtatious. She remembered him teasing pretty ladies now and then. Maybe somewhere along the line, he'd secretly fathered another child and passed down the family move.
Or perhaps this guy was just one of Papa's students—a disciple who'd trained under him once upon a time.
Whatever the case, El Condor Pasa was determined to find out. She had to beat him, rip off his hood, and see who he really was!
"Gyaaaaah!" she roared, unleashing her full strength.
The hold definitely weakened her power, but her mother had once broken free of it—so she could too! Mimicking that memory, she arched backward, pressing Mizuno beneath her, grinding down as she flexed and twisted her limbs to tear the lock apart.
"Wait—something's wrong!" Mizuno panicked.
Not only was her movement dangerously close to breaking the hold, but the way she was grinding her hips against him made him question whether this was still wrestling at all.
Worse, the supposedly "unbreakable" lock was starting to give.
"OWOWOWOW!" Pain exploded through his arms and shoulders. His muscles screamed, as if they were tearing apart. Master Jin had said that once endurance reached the right level, an Uma's struggle would feel like a child's push.
This was no child's push—this was She-Hulk using him as a weapon.
Either Master Jin had lied, or Mizuno's endurance hadn't been enough after all. Hayakawa-san must've held back during the test, giving him a false sense of security.
Damn it, Hayakawa-san, you set me up!
The lock was unraveling, inch by inch. Mizuno could already picture the aftermath—pinned flat, apologizing miserably, waiting for her to peel his mask off in victory…
No way. He needed to escape.
Release the hold and bolt? Impossible—no human could outrun an Uma Musume.
Beg for mercy and fake a location? Risky—if she found out he'd lied, he'd be hunted to the ends of the earth.
Cornered, he remembered Master Jin's ultimate failsafe:
If all else fails, pull the Uma Musume's tail. It'll instantly drain her strength.
But Jin had also given a grave warning. The one time he'd done it, he'd been "squeezed dry" for a month afterward, reduced from America's strongest wrestler to a weakling.
Still, Mizuno was out of options.
As the lock started to crumble, he freed one hand and reached toward El Condor Pasa's body—then, with a quick motion, snatched something up.
"Huh?!"
El Condor Pasa's body froze, her mind going blank. For a second, she stopped resisting entirely.
But it wasn't her tail that had been grabbed.
It was her mask.
"Heh-heh—success!" Mizuno shouted triumphantly, waving the mask in one hand.
He hadn't fallen for Jin's trap. No way he was risking his life pulling a tail. Instead, he'd gone for her source of strength—the mask her father had given her. Without it, she'd lose her courage, her confidence, everything.
Sure enough, the moment he tore it away, her power dropped. Her energy drained, her body slackened.
Perfect. He could keep the lock for hours if he wanted. Half an hour would be a breeze.
"Heh-heh-heh—"
But his laugh died in his throat.
A wave of raw, murderous fury surged from the girl in his arms, followed by white-hot pain as her strength exploded tenfold.
"You bastard! Give me back my mask!!"
Her face flushed scarlet, eyes squeezed shut in humiliation, El Condor Pasa went berserk.
She rolled violently across the mat, slamming Mizuno into the floor again and again.
"OW! OW OW OW!" Mizuno howled.
He'd completely miscalculated. The mask wasn't a switch for her timid side—it was a seal that kept her emotions in check. Without it, she was pure chaos.
I screwed up! I really screwed up!
Desperate, he jammed the mask back onto her face, praying she'd calm down.
She didn't. Still furious, she slammed him over and over until his head spun and stars filled his vision.
During one of the throws, his hood slipped off—exposing his face.
And with it, a faint, intoxicating scent spread through the air.
El Condor Pasa's nose twitched. Her body froze mid-motion. That fragrance—sweet, clean, like the world's most delicious carrot—was unforgettable.
She turned, eyes wide.
"It's him!"