Undercover Blue Riot (Transmigration)

Sign 4 He Is Exposed!

Skyler and Edgar walked ahead and Cyril walked behind them. He wore a loose and long , white sleeveless top reading "90s Surf Baby!" and black shorts. He held his surfboard in his hands. He wore a brunette wig and green flipflops.
"The wig won't come off, right?" Edgar asked Skyler.
"It's a waterproof adhesive," Skyler replied, "My mom's a pro,"

"I'll be fine," Cyril smiled. Both his eyes were blue. 

"You didn't practice at all this weekend," Edgar said, "All you did was ballet,"
"But I'm learning fast! It's like my body was made for ballet," Cyril twirled.
"It is good you like it," Skyler said while Edgar seemed tensed, "But still, you shouldn't put surfing on a back bench like that,"
"I'm already the best at surfing so fuck that!" Cyril said.

They both dropped him off at the surf practice for the Winter Cup. All the surfers stood in a line. Everyone stood shirtless except Cyril. They had a new coach that summer. He was Tristian Miller's dad, George Miller. He himself had been a champion surfer in his days of youth. He was a big man, as if all his did was gym, all day, everyday. He had a whistle in his mouth and the most Australian accent one could imagine. He walked parallel to the long line of boys and stopped when he came across Cyril.

He looked at him and eyed him down. He came close to him and Cyril held his breath. Edgar and Skyler stood in the audience, "Oh shit, did he find out already?" Edgar asked. Skyler stood beside him and looked at them.
"Aren't you a bit underweight to be here?" The coach asked.
"N-No, sir,"
"Hmm...Try not to die from a heat stroke,"

All the other boys laughed. The coach quickly made them go quiet, "GROUPS OF TWO, THE ONE ON YOUR LEFT IS YOUR PARTNER! GET INTO THE OCEAN!" He blew his whistle and all the boys ran towards the ocean. Cyril was at the end of the line and the odd one there, "Can someone be my partner?" He looked around. Nobody cared.

Cyril grinded his teeth, "Fuck you all. Let me become a man again, then all of you will be running after me like dogs to make me your partner, utter idiots," 
"What happened? Can't find a partner?" The coach asked.
"No, sir,"
He looked around and called out, "TRISTIAN!"

Cyril's eyes widened and he looked up.
"Aw fuck," Edgar said, "Cyril hates that man,"
"Why?" Skyler asked.
"I don't know. Maybe the vibes he gives off,"

Tristian walked to them from the other side of the beach, "Yes coach?"
"You got a partner?"
"Yes," The coach looked over his shoulders and saw Tristian's little brother, Blake Miller with a surfboard.
"Why are practicing with Blake?! He's too young to even enter this year. We're not here to babysit blokes. Get into the water with this dude, for fuck's sake man,"

Cyril made a disgusted expression when he looked at Tristian. Tristian passed a dirty look back to him, "Go into the water with him?"
"Do you have a problem? You can let me know, Tristian," The coach glared at Tristian.
"No coach,"
"Then go!"
"Yes coach,"

Tristian looked at Cyril, "Follow me," 
Cyril picked up his board and ran after Tristian. They both jumped into the water with their boards. Tristian had muscular arms that allowed him to swim faster and he reached the top of the wave. Cyril just gently flapped his weak and skinny arms through the water like a dying fish, "UGH! My hands hurt!"

He somehow reached the top of the wave, right beside Tristian. Meanwhile, Tristian did a quick bottom turn and landed on the board, gliding horizontally over the wave's lip or foamy section about to break. And wasn't where he stopped, letting the tail of the surfboard slide down the wave face, he did the perfect tail slide. He quickly transitioned to a noseriding stance and ended with a 360.

He was doing his best moves one after the other while Cyril just watched. Then, he smirked, "I can outdo all that bullshit with a single spash,"
Tristian turned back as Cyril ginned and drove his surfboard down the line. He went up, kicked the board, projected it to the beach, grabbed the rail, and reconnected before landing.