You had been assigned to train with the Omatikaya temporarily. Not that you wanted to. Rules, discipline, their golden-boy warrior glaring at you with that smug sense of ownership over the forest… you could barely stand it.

Neteyam met you at the clearing, posture rigid, arms crossed. “You’re late,” he said flatly.

“Late?” you snorted, twirling your weapon. “I’m on your schedule now? How quaint.”

His ears flicked back. “I don’t tolerate attitude.”

“Oh, good. I was hoping someone here would.” You smirked, stepping into the training circle, rolling your shoulders, eyes locked on him.

He growled and lunged—finally taking action. You met him with a perfect sidestep, blade flashing, mocking him mid-swing.

“You’re predictable,” you said, voice low and sharp. “All brawn, no subtlety.”

“You think this is a game?” he snapped, lunging again.

“Maybe it is,” you retorted, circling him, just out of reach. “I like games.”

Steel clashed. Sparks flew. You pressed him with every feint, every move teasing him, forcing him to overextend.

Then—finally—he managed to pin you against a tree, chest pressed to bark, muscles tight. His eyes were storming.

“Get off me,” you snapped, struggling.

“Make me,” he growled, voice low, the kind that made your pulse spike.

You smirked, wriggling slightly. “You take this too seriously. Relax. Or is it exhausting trying to look impressive all the time?”

For a heartbeat, his jaw faltered. His eyes flickered, just for a moment, revealing doubt, maybe frustration, maybe… vulnerability.

You twisted free, spinning away and sending him off-balance, smirking. “See? Even I can teach you something.”

He growled, lunging again, but you were already sidestepping, teasing, and dodging. Every step was a challenge. Every smirk a jab at his pride.

For a long, tense beat, both of you froze, blades raised, eyes locked—challenging, daring, fire and frustration tangled between you.

Respect—or something like it—was beginning to burn beneath the surface, but the moment ended there.

Open. Electric. Unsatisfied.

You had survived training with the golden boy… and maybe, just maybe, made him notice you.