127

The training room still smelled faintly of rubber mats and metal when the Avengers filtered in after breakfast. Sunlight streamed through the high windows, glinting off racks of weapons and the polished floor.

Natasha was already there, stretching with methodical precision. Mia hovered near the edge of the mat, rolling her shoulders, clearly working up to something. She glanced at Athena—who was sitting on a bench, towel around her neck, sipping water—then at Carol, who leaned against the wall, arms crossed, amused. Mia exhaled sharply and stepped forward. "Natasha," she said. "Spar with me."

The room quieted. Natasha looked up slowly. "You sure?" Mia nodded. "Yeah." Natasha's gaze flicked briefly to Athena, then back to Mia. "Rules?" "Hand-to-hand. No gadgets," Mia said quickly. "First pin or tap." Natasha considered this for half a second. "Fine." Athena straightened. "Oh, this I want to see." Carol smirked. "You're brave. Or suicidal." Mia rolled her eyes. "I just ate pancakes. I'm invincible."

Natasha stepped onto the mat, barefoot, utterly calm. "Whenever you're ready." Mia squared her stance, took a breath—and lunged. She moved fast, faster than most rookies, throwing a clean jab aimed at Natasha's shoulder. Natasha deflected it easily, pivoting aside, testing Mia's balance with a quick sweep that Mia barely hopped over. "Good reflexes," Natasha said, already circling. Mia grinned, adrenaline buzzing. "Thanks."

She came in again, lower this time, trying to drive Natasha back. Natasha let it happen for half a second—then redirected, catching Mia's wrist, twisting, and sending her momentum past her. Mia stumbled but recovered, spinning into a kick that Natasha blocked with her forearm. Thud. The impact echoed. Athena leaned forward, interested. "Okay, she's not terrible."

Mia pressed her advantage, chaining moves together, forcing Natasha to actually move. Natasha ducked, rolled, countered—never rushed, never panicked. Then, in a blink, Natasha slipped inside Mia's guard. Mia felt it before she saw it. Her arm was pinned, her leg hooked, and suddenly she was on her back, Natasha's knee pressing lightly into her ribs, one hand immobilizing both wrists. "Tap," Natasha said calmly.

Mia blinked up at her, breathless, then laughed. "Yeah. Okay. Tap."Natasha released her immediately and offered a hand. Mia took it, still grinning despite the loss. "You didn't embarrass yourself," Natasha said. High praise. Mia pushed herself up. "I lasted longer than ten seconds." "You did," Natasha agreed. "That's progress." Athena clapped once. "Look at you, challenging the Black Widow before lunch."

Mia glanced at Athena, then quickly looked away, but she was smiling. "Confidence boost." Natasha wiped her hands on a towel. "If you want to get better," she said, "stop telegraphing your second strike." Mia's eyes lit up. "You noticed that?" "I notice everything." Carol chuckled. "Welcome to the Natasha Romanoff experience." Mia nodded, energized, bruised, and undeniably proud. She hadn't flirted. She hadn't crossed a line. But she'd earned something else entirely. Respect.