Aria didn't take a stance.
That was the second mistake.
The man shifted his feet, settling into something halfway between memory and habit. Weight forward. Hands up. Confident.
Too confident.
"…You're not even guarding," he scoffed.
Aria just smiled.
Not wide.
Not mocking.
The kind of smile that said I've already finished this conversation.
Why She Doesn't Correct Him
Arguing would have meant explaining.
Explaining would have meant admitting he still mattered.
He didn't.
She watched his shoulders instead.
The tension there.
The tell he'd never fixed.
"…You still lead with power," she thought.
"…And you still forget follow-through."
The Others Start to Notice
Someone shifted uneasily.
"…She's not talking," a woman murmured.
Another replied, quieter,
"…She never does when she's sure."
The circle widened by half a step.
Instinctive.
No one wanted to be close when the lesson started.
The Challenger Misreads Everything
The man grinned.
"Lost your nerve?"
Aria smiled again.
This time, softer.
Kinder.
Which should have scared him.
The Invitation
"Go ahead," she said.
Two words.
No tension.
No provocation.
Permission.
The man didn't hesitate.
He lunged.
What He Hits Instead
He expected resistance.
He met emptiness.
Aria wasn't where he struck.
She wasn't anywhere he'd planned for.
Her foot slid back.
Her body turned.
Minimal.
Effortless.
The punch cut air.
Momentum betrayed him.
The Smile Fades
For the first time, his brow furrowed.
"…Lucky," he muttered, resetting.
Aria's smile vanished.
Not replaced by anger.
By focus.
Noah Sees It Clearly
"…That's it," Noah whispered.
The moment she stopped smiling—
The fight was already over.
Closing Beat
The man attacked again.
Faster.
Harder.
Aria moved once.
Just once.
And the sound that followed—
Was not a strike.
It was impact.
And it came from the floor.