Same gray shirt.
Same old shoes.
She carried the canvas bag.
Blake smiled.
"Knew you'd come back."
Natalie ignored him.
She walked to the desk.
"How much for another day?"
Mason shook his head.
"Nothing."
She looked surprised.
"Why?"
"Because you're training here."
She studied him.
"For how long?"
"However long you want."
Natalie glanced toward Blake.
"That might be a problem."
Mason nodded.
"I'm fixing it."
For the first time, Natalie smiled.
"Good."
Blake walked closer.
"You're really going to let her train?"
Mason looked at him.
"Yes."
"With us?"
"No."
Blake's smile disappeared.
"What does that mean?"
"It means you won't be sparring with her."
Blake laughed.
"You can't stop me."
Mason stepped from behind the desk.
"Yes, I can."
The room became quiet.
Mason pointed toward the door.
"Tonight, everyone trains under the same rules."
Blake stared.
Mason continued.
"No hard sparring without permission. No ego rounds. No targeting beginners. Anyone who ignores that leaves."
Blake's jaw tightened.
"You're changing the rules because of her."
"No."
Mason looked at Kevin.
"I'm changing them because I should have done it months ago."
Nobody spoke.
Natalie quietly put down her bag.
Then she began wrapping her hands.
This time, Mason watched openly.
And this time, he noticed something else.
The canvas bag had a name stitched into the side.
D. BROOKS.
Daniel Brooks.
Mason's eyes widened.
He knew that name.
Years earlier, before opening Northside, Mason had attended a seminar taught by a quiet instructor named Daniel Brooks.
One sentence from that seminar had stayed with him.
"The best fighter in the room is usually the one least interested in proving it."
Mason looked at Natalie.
She looked back.
"You knew my father?"
Natalie nodded.
"Briefly."
Mason swallowed.
"He was one of the best instructors I've ever met."
"I know."
"How long were you training with him?"
Natalie tightened the final strip of tape.
"Since I was six."
Mason stared.
Blake overheard.
"You trained since you were six?"
Natalie nodded.
Blake smiled.
"Then let's see what twenty years gets you."
Mason stepped between them.
"Blake."
But Natalie spoke first.
"It's okay."
She looked at Blake.
"One round."
Mason frowned.
Natalie continued.
"Controlled."
Blake grinned.
"Deal."
Mason didn't like it.
But this time, he stayed close.
He wouldn't make the same mistake twice.
The Black Belt's Mistake
The gym filled quickly.
Word traveled faster than Mason expected.
People wanted to see the rematch.
Blake was confident.
Too confident.
He had convinced himself that the first exchange had been an accident.
A lucky angle.
A trip.
Nothing more.
Natalie stood across from him.
No expression.
No intimidation.
No performance.
Mason stood between them.
"Three minutes."
He looked directly at Blake.
"Light contact."
Blake nodded.
Mason looked at Natalie.
"Same."
She nodded.
The bell rang.
Blake moved forward.
Natalie stayed still.
For one second.
Then Blake attacked.
A fast jab.
Natalie slipped.
Cross.
She stepped outside.
Hook.
She ducked.
Low kick.
She checked it.
The entire sequence took less than two seconds.
Blake backed away.
His expression changed.
Natalie hadn't just avoided the attacks.
She had read them.
Blake attacked again.
This time he changed rhythm.
One jab.
Pause.
Another jab.
Right hand.
Natalie blocked.
Blake threw a kick.
Natalie stepped away.
He followed.
She pivoted.
He followed again.
She pivoted again.
Blake began breathing harder.
Natalie wasn't.
Mason watched carefully.
She wasn't trying to win.
She was teaching him.
Every time Blake attacked, she showed him exactly where his balance failed.
Then Blake made the mistake.
He got angry.
His right hand came forward too wide.
Natalie moved inside.
Her left hand caught his wrist.
Her right forearm redirected his shoulder.
Her hips turned.
Blake's balance vanished.
He hit the mat.
This time, he landed hard enough to make the room gasp.
Natalie immediately stepped away.
"You okay?"
Blake rolled onto one knee.
His face was furious.
"Again."
Mason stepped forward.
"No."
Blake stood.
"I'm fine."
"You're not thinking clearly."
"I'm fine."
Natalie looked at Mason.
Then at Blake.
She didn't say anything.
Blake raised his gloves.
"Again."
Mason shook his head.
"Round's over."
Blake ignored him.
He stepped toward Natalie.
She didn't move.
"Come on," Blake said.
Nothing.
"What's wrong?"
Natalie looked at him.
"You already lost."
The room became silent.
Blake's face hardened.
"I didn't lose."
"You fell."
"That's not losing."
"You asked me to spar."
"Yes."
"You fell."
Blake clenched his fists.
"I want another round."
Natalie shook her head.
"No."
"Why?"
"Because you're angry."
Blake laughed.
"I'm not angry."
"You are."
"So what?"
"Angry people don't learn."
That sentence broke something inside him.
Blake lunged.
There was no bell.
No permission.
No warning.
He simply attacked.
Mason shouted.
"Blake!"
Natalie reacted instantly.
She stepped off the line.
Blake's punch missed.
His momentum carried him forward.
Natalie placed one hand against his shoulder.
The other controlled his arm.
A small turn.
A shift of weight.
Blake dropped.
This time, the movement was so fast that most people didn't even understand it.
He was standing.
Then he wasn't.
Natalie remained standing.
Blake hit the mat.
Three seconds.
Maybe less.
Silence filled the gym.
Natalie looked down.
"Stay there."
Blake tried to rise.
She didn't touch him.
She didn't need to.
Something about her voice stopped him.
Mason walked forward.
"Everybody stop."
No one moved.
Mason looked at Blake.
"You attacked after the round ended."
Blake's breathing was heavy.
"She—"
"No."
Mason pointed toward the door.