It was a rare weekend when Ava allowed herself to slow down.
The endless rush of classes, part-time jobs, and the ache of being far from home faded as she wandered through the lively corridors of the Manhattan Mall. The scents of fresh pastries mixed with the murmur of crowds, and for once, her heart felt a little lighter.
Then—
A voice.
Close. Casual. Just loud enough to cut through the noise.
“Hey, gorgeous… walkin’ around all alone?”
Ava kept walking.
Didn’t look. Didn’t answer.
Her hand hovered near her headphone cord—habit, not comfort.
The footsteps followed.
“Don’t be like that. I’m just sayin’ hi.”
She turned slightly, angled toward a side corridor.
Bright store lights. More people.
But the man was still behind her—closer now.
His voice right at her shoulder.
“Hey. I’m talkin’ to you.”
Ava’s shoulders tensed. She turned, polite but firm.
“Sorry… I’m not interested.”
But the man’s grin twisted, arrogance leaking through every syllable.
“Yeah, yeah… you all say that at first.”
Before she could step away, his hand clamped around her wrist. Hard.
“Come on, let’s grab a drink—won’t take no for an answer.”
Her breath caught in her throat—
But then, from across the promenade:
Then—from behind them—A voice.
Sharp. Calm. Laced with warning.
“She said she’s not interested… that should be enough.”
Ava turned toward the sound—"Roshi?"
Fresh from the gym, towel over his shoulder, eyes locked on the man like a slow-building storm.
Ava is happy to see Roshi at first but then she started to worry more.
Can this old man save her?
The guy didn’t like being interrupted.
His face twisted—smile gone—
and his hand clamped tighter around Ava’s arm.
She winced.
Roshi started walking.
Slow. Steady. Every footstep echoed like it weighed more than it should.
“You good?” he asked Ava—voice low, steady, protective.
She swallowed.
Eyes wide.
“I… I don’t know this guy. I’m scared.”
The harasser scoffed.
Chin up. Chest puffed.
Desperate to look bigger in front of the wrong man.
“Mind your own fucking business, old man. Before I smash the shit out of you.”
The guy was pissed now—face red, breathing sharp.
He squared up, shoulders twitching, teeth clenched.
“You got one more second to walk away, old man.”
Roshi didn’t flinch.
Didn’t blink.
He stepped in—closer than anyone should’ve been.
Eyes steady. Hands loose at his sides.
Then, quiet—like a warning wrapped in gravel:
“You sure you wanna do this?”
That was it.
The guy snapped—
lunging with a wild swing, fist aiming high and hard.
Ava gasped—
because for a split second, it looked like he was about to hit Roshi.
He had no idea…
what was about to hit him.
In one breathless moment—
the mall went silent.
Roshi rolled his shoulders back.
His fingers flexed once.
And the air cracked around him.
Golden static crawled across his skin—
a charge building from somewhere deeper than muscle.
His head tilted back.
Hair lifted—then spiked upward in a surge of white, glowing from within like molten ice.
The floor beneath him vibrated.
His red tracksuit shimmered.
Shoppers froze.
Phones slipped.
Even Ava stepped back, eyes wide, breath caught in her throat.
This wasn’t just strength.
Something awakened.
The Silver Phoenix.
Roshi planted his feet.
A glowing ring of energy spiraled around his fist—
like a small universe pulling itself inward.
People were still trying to figure out what Roshi was doing—
why he dropped into that stance,
why his fist was glowing.
Within half a blink, the guy was airborne—
and Roshi’s fist was already in his chest.
The hit landed like an explosion—sudden, violent, absolute.
Metal bent. Glass cracked.
He crashed through the storefront like a ragdoll.
That was Roshi’s Death Fist.
Fueled by a cosmic force no one could name.
The man was slumped against shattered glass—barely conscious.
Smoke still hung in the air.
The glow around Roshi’s body started to fade.
Hair softened. Shoulders dropped.
That impossible pressure—the storm around him—began to bleed away.
He was changing back.
By the time he turned to face the crowd,
he looked like just an old man again—calm, tired, unshaken.
The crowd didn’t know what to do.
Silence. Staring.
Then Ava broke it.
One fist in the air—“YEAH!”
Big grin, cheering like she’d just watched the final round of a title fight.
“That was insane!”“Did you guys see that?! He folded that dude!”"Is he alive?"
A few people started clapping.
Someone dropped their phone.
Someone whispered “He just went back to normal. What the hell was that?”
But Roshi?
He just breathed once, slow—
and started walking.
As the dust settled, Ava finally moved.
She ran to him—fast, like the fight wasn’t real until it was over.
But as she got closer, her steps slowed.
The energy in the air still clung to him.
Not glowing… just heavy.
She stopped a few feet away. Looked up at him.
And for the first time since the bar, she didn’t know what to say.
Her voice came out small.
A little shaky.
Still breathless from the adrenaline.
“Roshi…”“Are you… God?”
He looked at her.
Just looked.
Then let out a slow breath—like the weight had dropped off his shoulders again.
“No.”
“But he thought he was.”
The mall buzzed behind them.
Glass cracked. Voices murmured. Cameras still pointed.
But Ava and Roshi just walked.
She glanced at him again, slower this time.
“Hey… my friend’s throwing a birthday party next weekend. Rooftop thing. You should come.”
Roshi looked over—half-grin, towel still draped across his shoulder.
“You sure I fit in with rooftop people?”
Ava smiled—wider now.
Eyes locked on his.
“I don’t care what the crowd thinks.”“You’re already a god to me.”
Roshi didn’t say anything.
Just looked forward, exhaled slow.
But there was a faint smirk at the corner of his mouth.
And he didn’t say no.
