continuing the next part >>148876023

>The mat was cleared. Aya was still softly snoring on the grass, a damp towel gently covering her forehead thanks to Mrs. Mavis. Gwendolyn sat nearby, nursing a quiet pride and a guilty headache. Willow kept glancing back and forth between them and the center mat, where the next match was about to begin.
>Ronnie and Sailor Norm stepped forward.
>Norm jogged in place with the kind of energy that could power a ship. His limbs swung in controlled circles, his white sailor hat sat snugly behind his thick blonde hair, and his sailor shirt slightly billowed with every movement like a sail catching wind. His long legs bounced with every step, his broad shoulders relaxed but ready.
>In contrast, Ronnie looked like a librarian being pushed into a mosh pit.
>He stood stiffly at the edge of the mat, arms folded behind his back, expression neutral—too neutral. His ears twitched slightly, his tail locked low with tension. From the sidelines, he heard Gwendolyn whisper to Willow, “I don’t know if Ronnie has any fighting experience.”
>Willow hummed. “He might surprise us.”
>But Ronnie didn’t feel surprising. He felt like a beanpole about to get clobbered by a walking buoy.
>Sailor Norm stopped bouncing and turned to face him, stretching one arm behind his head with a grin.
>“Hey, Ronnie,” he said, voice easy and upbeat. “I won’t hit you too hard, I promise. This is just training, right?”
>Ronnie looked up at him—way up at him.
>Sailor Norm was the tallest in the class. By a lot. He was all limbs and reach, with the kind of frame that made most hand-to-hand fights into uphill battles. Ronnie’s eyes traced him from his head to his feet, looking for any weak spot—any wobble, any inconsistency, any exploitable flaw.
>Nothing.
>Not a slouch in his stance. Not a nervous twitch. Just good posture and a stupidly excited expression.