We stood a few feet apart, our stances mirroring our personalities.

He was always the more aggressive, and it showed. He held his sword before him, both hands gripping the hilt as though he were choking it. He leaned slightly forward, like some battle-crazed spirit was pushing him. Every muscle was tense, waiting to spring into action.

I, on the other hand, was relaxed. I knew my strengths, as well as my weaknesses. I was smaller than anyone else here. The next closest to me in size and age still had 3 years and 50 lbs on me. I compensated for that by being agile and smart.

With my blade pointed at the floor, I looked far more unprepared than I really was. I even looked resigned to losing. A carefully cultivated impression; in my mind, I had already won. I knew how he would move, where he would strike. I knew them all, better than they might believe.

Everyone else thought I was timid, but our sensei and I knew the truth.

I was simply better than them.

And as soon as he moved, they would know it, too.