Sparring or Flirting

"For our next exercise, we'll be doing some sparring," Evelyn announced, her tone crisp and authoritative. "Everyone, pair up. I'll assign a set of moves for you to perform on each other. The receiving end will come up with counters and adapt to the situation. Focus on technique, not brute strength."

A partner… please, just not—

"Well, it looks like it'll be you and me, Sera," Camille said, appearing at my side with her signature cheerful smile, practically glowing with enthusiasm.

Great. Of course. Why would it be anyone else?

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Why can't I ever get a break?"

"Oh, come on," Camille said, giving me a playful nudge. "It won't be that bad. I'll even go easy on you."

Her words were meant to be reassuring, but they only made the sinking feeling in my stomach worse. Easy for her to say—Camille had been training since childhood. She wasn't just strong; she was skilled, precise, and frankly, a little terrifying when it came to physical combat.

Meanwhile, I had all the combat experience of a particularly lazy house cat.

"Easy on me, huh?" I muttered, crossing my arms. "Forgive me if that doesn't fill me with confidence."

Camille chuckled, tilting her head. "Don't worry, Sera. I'll make sure you survive."

"That's what I'm afraid of," I grumbled.

Evelyn clapped her hands, drawing everyone's attention. "Alright, partners, to your positions. Camille, Sera, you'll start with basic counters. Camille, take the offensive first."

Camille's eyes lit up with an almost mischievous glint as she stepped into position. She moved with the kind of grace that could only come from years of practice, her stance steady and confident.

I, on the other hand, stood there awkwardly, trying to mirror her movements but probably looking more like a baby deer on ice.

"You ready?" Camille asked, her tone light but her posture sharp.

"Not remotely," I admitted.

"Good enough." She lunged forward in one fluid motion, aiming a controlled strike at my side.

Panicking, I scrambled to block her, managing to fumble my arm into place just in time. The impact was light—she really was holding back—but it still sent a jolt through me.

"Not bad," Camille said, stepping back and preparing for another attack. "Now, adapt."

"Adapt, she says," I muttered under my breath, my heart racing. "As if it's that easy."

She struck again, faster this time, her movements precise and deliberate. I barely managed to counter, stumbling slightly as I tried to keep up.

"Focus, Sera," Evelyn called out. "Keep your movements controlled. Don't let her dictate the pace."

Easy for her to say.

Camille's next attack came even faster, and this time, I couldn't block in time. Her fist stopped just short of my shoulder, a clear indicator of what would've happened if she hadn't been holding back.

"Point for me," she said with a wink.

I groaned, stepping back and shaking my arms out. "You're enjoying this way too much."

"Of course I am," she said, her grin widening. "It's fun seeing you out of your element for once."

"Glad I could entertain you," I deadpanned.

"Alright, switch roles," Evelyn instructed. "Sera, your turn to attack. Camille, defend."

Oh no.

Camille's stance shifted slightly, her movements fluid and relaxed, as if she was already anticipating my every move. Taking a deep breath, I lunged forward, mimicking the strike she had just shown me.

She blocked it effortlessly, her hand moving as if she had all the time in the world.

"You're telegraphing too much," she said. "Try to keep your movements unpredictable."

Unpredictable? At this rate, I'd settle for competent.

Still, I gritted my teeth and tried again, this time feinting to one side before striking at the other. To my surprise, it actually worked—Camille's block was a fraction too slow, and my strike landed lightly on her arm.

Her eyes widened slightly, and then she laughed. "Well, well, look at you. Maybe you're not hopeless after all."

"Don't get used to it," I said, stepping back and shaking out my sore arms.

Camille smiled, her gaze warm but challenging. "Oh, I'm definitely not letting you off that easy, Sera. This is just the beginning."

Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful.

I barely had time to register Camille's teasing smile before I made my next move, attempting a strike aimed at her midsection. I thought I had the upper hand this time, focusing on speed rather than power, but before I could even blink, everything flipped—literally.

One moment I was on my feet, determined to land a hit, and the next, I was flat on my back, staring up at the sky with a dull ache radiating through my shoulder blades.

"What the—?!" I gasped, the words leaving me in a bewildered puff of air.

Above me, Camille stood with a perfectly calm expression, as if she hadn't just sent me sprawling onto the ground like a sack of potatoes. She extended a hand, her grin infuriatingly smug.

"What just happened?" I groaned, propping myself up on my elbows and glaring at her.

Camille shrugged, clearly trying to hold back a laugh. "You left yourself open. I just took advantage of it. Classic counter-move."

"Classic counter-move?" I repeated incredulously, accepting her hand and letting her pull me up. "You practically teleported me to the ground! What are you, some kind of ninja?"

"Not a ninja, just highly skilled," she said with a wink, brushing an imaginary speck of dust off her uniform.

I narrowed my eyes at her, brushing myself off and trying to regain some semblance of dignity. "Highly annoying, more like."

Evelyn, who had been observing the sparring matches with an impassive expression, finally spoke up. "Camille, while your technique was impressive, try not to throw your partner so hard that they lose their footing entirely. This is a learning exercise, not a competition."

"Noted, Professor," Camille said cheerfully, though the mischievous sparkle in her eye suggested she wasn't entirely repentant.

"And Sera," Evelyn continued, turning her gaze to me, "you need to maintain your balance. Your attacks are too straightforward, leaving you vulnerable to counters like that."

I nodded, resisting the urge to groan. "Understood."

"Good. Reset and try again. Remember, sparring is about growth, not victory," Evelyn said, folding her arms and watching us closely.

Camille was already back in position, that ever-present smile tugging at her lips. "Ready for round two?"

I exhaled sharply, trying to suppress the growing frustration bubbling inside me. "Let's just get this over with."

As we reset and resumed sparring, I couldn't shake the feeling that Camille was holding back—not out of pity, but because she genuinely enjoyed toying with me. The way she moved, so graceful and controlled, made every one of my attempts to land a hit feel clumsy in comparison.

And yet, despite the endless cycle of attacks, counters, and more humiliating tumbles to the ground, I couldn't help but begrudgingly admire Camille's skill. Every move she made was fluid and precise, a combination of natural talent and years of training.

But admiration could only get her so far.

More importantly, I wanted to wipe that smug grin off her face.

Steeling myself, I decided to throw caution to the wind. I lunged forward, closing the gap between us, and swung my fist toward her face in a bold, desperate move. I wasn't aiming to hurt her—just to rattle her, to make her finally take me seriously.

Her expression, however, didn't falter for even a second. That infuriating, self-assured smile remained firmly in place, as if she'd predicted my every move before I'd even thought of it.

With almost no effort, she caught my fist mid-swing, her grip firm but gentle, and used my momentum against me. Before I could register what was happening, I was on the ground. Again.

"What the—?!" I sputtered, struggling to process how I'd ended up flat on my back for the umpteenth time.

And then I noticed Camille.

Somehow, in the blink of an eye, she had managed to pin me down. She hovered above me, one hand gripping my wrist and holding it firmly above my head. Her other hand pressed lightly against my shoulder to keep me in place. Her face was dangerously close to mine, her breath warm against my skin.

"Still leaving yourself wide open, Sera," she murmured, her voice low and teasing, but there was an edge of seriousness beneath it. Her eyes locked onto mine, and for a moment, everything else seemed to blur into the background.

I swallowed hard, my brain short-circuiting as I tried to process the proximity. "Uh…"

Camille's smirk widened, and the mischief in her gaze turned almost predatory. "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?"

"No," I shot back, my voice coming out more indignant than I'd intended. "I'm just—caught off guard, that's all."

"Caught off guard?" she echoed, her tone dripping with amusement. "You'll need to do better than that if you want to win."

"This isn't a competition," I muttered, turning my head to the side in an attempt to avoid her intense gaze.

"Everything's a competition if you make it one," Camille said smoothly, finally releasing her grip and standing up with an easy grace that made me seethe internally. She extended a hand to help me up, and though I wanted to refuse out of sheer pride, I took it.

Dusting myself off, I glared at her, ignoring the warmth on my cheeks. "One of these days, I'm going to beat you."

"I look forward to it," Camille replied, her grin as insufferable as ever. "But until then, I'm happy to keep teaching you."

Yeah, no thanks. I'll look for someone else.