"TWEEEEEEEET!"

  The whistle blew in the Aegutez Center. A practice match was about to begin in ten minutes. Himeko sat on the bench, wiping the sweat from her palms onto her shorts, craning her neck to look at the scoreboard.

  Her eyes narrowed. This practice match looked tough: it would be a three-on-three, with teams rotating, and the first team to score fifteen points would win.

  Her team consisted of Aria Fillar, the flamboyant superstar of Silesbia, and Yvonne Geiss, the setter dubbed the "walking supercomputer" of Science City.

  On the other side of the net was their own formidable lineup. It included Zoe Weaver, Sierra Harby, and Jennifer Anista in the back row. "Apex Predator." Jennifer's dark hair framed her face like a wolf's mane, her eyes as cold as ice.

  The practice match began, and immediately the battle of wits ensued, the players moving into position so fast the naked eye couldn't keep up. From the very first serve, the pace of the game escalated to a dizzying level. There was no hesitation and no wasted movement. Players executed complex adjustments smoothly before anyone could shout a command.

  A serve was given, and immediately, three players would rush in to fill the gap. An attack was shut down, and a spiker would adjust her position to make a decoy run, stretching the defense.

  Himeko was in the midst of the chaos, her mind constantly focused on the ball.

  Yvonne Geiss leaped 90 cm off the ground, way too high for a setter, arching her back in a way no setter could replicate before unleashing her "flying golden ratio pass," a sharp, angled pass to boost up the hitter's power.

  The opposing team reacted instantly to Yvonne's movement, moving in unison. Yvonne's ball was served, high and clean, flying back towards the net.

  Zoe Weaver launched herself into the air.

  Zoe hovered at the peak of her jump. Himeko jumped up and was in the air with her, reaching for the ball, arms outstretched, her fingers spread to block the net.

  Zoe's eyes scanned the air. In that moment of suspension, she saw a tiny gap between Himeko's left pinky finger and the antenna, minuscule, no bigger than a smartphone.

  Zoe's arm quickly reached forward, aiming to thread the needle.

  Hm?

  Eyes shot open, neurons fired, Himeko reacted. Her momentum had been abruptly obstructred, still Himeko shifted her left hand, closing the gap just as the ball left Zoe's palm.

  Thud.

  The ball ricocheted off Himeko's palm heading straight to the floorboard below.

  The play wasn't dead yet. Sierra, anticipated the block, reached the ball at the last second, and with a low grunt, she popped the deflection up. The ball spiraled toward Jennifer.

  Jennifer's stared at the fast-flying pass. The moment it arrived, she touched it and tossed it into the air.

  Sierra was already airborne again.

  This time, there was no finesse into the play; Sierra pulled her hitting arm back, face twisted in a ferocious sneer. She channeled every ounce of her anger into her right arm.

  Himeko rose again, her legs catching sparks, breath coming in sharp gasps. Rising from the ground and formed the iron wall once more.

  Sierra swung.

  BOOM.

  A sonic detonation erupted from the point of contact, echoing shockwaves blasted through the Center, its sound reverberating off the steel rafters which growled like thunder trapped in a bottle. The ball struck Himeko’s forearms like a sledgehammer hammering down an iron pole. The impact rattled painfully through her bones, jolts of pain continuously traveled straight up to her shoulders.

  Yet Himeko Nakamura did not break.

  Grinding her teeth, Himeko absorbed all the violence into her core, her arms shuddered but stood unyielding, a falling meteor of a spike it was meeting with the Gravitomagnetic Shield as the last defensive line of earth. The ball lost its momentum, dying against her block and falling harmlessly onto the opponent's side of the court.

  ...

  Silence hung for a moment, in air, broken only by the squeak of Himeko's shoes as she landed. She looked at her stinging, red forearms, then across the net at Sierra, who stared at her with wide, disbelief-filled eyes.

  "Fucking hell," Sierra cursed.

  Himeko flexed her stinging fingers. She gazed past Sierra to the figure standing quietly at the back court.

  Jennifer Annista.

  The "Apex Predator." Woman whose very name provoke nightmares of every defender in the VNL. Unbelievably still in her posture. Her obsidian eyes were unreadable, fixed only on the net.

  Himeko realized then that Jennifer hadn't attacked once.

  Throughout the entire rotation, the league's most potent offensive weapon had been content to receive, pass, set with clean, understated efficiency, playing like a high-level utility player, much opposed to her real role. Why? Conserving energy, was she? Or was she bored, simply waiting for something worth destroying?

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  Himeko shook her head, forcing her focus back to the immediate reality.

  Don't think. Just play.

  As she moved back to her position at the net, a prickling sensation crawled up the back of her neck as if she was being watched.

  She closed her eyes and walked, simply chose to ignore the irrational intuition.

  High above the court, leaning against the railing of the second-floor observation deck, Kevin Marvant watched the entire scrimmage. His chin rested on his crossed hands, gaze locked onto the tall, dark-haired middle blocker on Court 3.

  "What are you doing?"

  Lazy voice came from behind him, the voice yawned. Damian, the Victoria Dragons' perpetually tired setter, shuffled up beside.

  "Chilling," Kevin replied, his eyes not leaving the court below.

  "Girlfriend hunting?"

  "Ya got me." Kevin lifted both hands in a mock surrender before leaning back against the railing. "Though... Women's side looks seriously stacked this year, huh?"

  "What do you mean? They have always been strong." Damian blinked. He looked a little more awake at the observation, albeit still sleepy.

  "Guess I never noticed, too much volleyball to care about anything else."

  Damian joined him at the rail. He rested his chin on his arms and stared down sleepily. "Notice anyone interesting?"

  Kevin smirked to himself, his eyes had been mostly locked onto one person from the beginning. "Maybe."

  The scrimmage went for a fifteen-minute break.

  Himeko slumped onto the bench and grabbed a towel. She burried her face in the rough cotton fabric to wipe away the sheen of sweat stinging her eyes. Her forearms were throbbing yet it was a good pain, the pain of a job done right.

  She lowered the towel, exhaled, she stared at the hardwood floor. She needed to center herself. The speed of the game at this level was intoxicating, but it drained her faster than she was used to.

  "Can I sit?"

  A soft, melodic voice cut through the noise of the gym.

  Himeko looked up.

  Ivanka Symphony. Breathtakingly beautiful was she; her hair was a cascade of liquid silver, falling in elegant waves over her shoulders, framing a face of snow-white perfection. Her eyes were a romantic, mysterious shade of violet, yielding a manifestation of intelligence that felt both serene and ancient.

  She wore the black training kit of the National Team, but she carried it with an effortless grace that made the simplistic design look regal. There was no fidgeting, as there was no wasted energy in her stance. She stood there, calm and sophisticated, that seemed to lower the temperature around her.

  Himeko blinked, momentarily disarmed by the royalness of the woman standing over her.

  "Uh... sure," Himeko managed. She shifted slightly to make room.

  Ivanka nodded and descended gracefully. She held a water bottle, but didn't drink. She looked out at the court, her violet eyes scanning the far court, perhaps directionlessly.

  "That block against Sierra," Ivanka said, her voice eased your mind like a herbal tea. "It was magnificent."

  Compliments from the enemy, especially this enemy, usually came with barbs attached.

  "I just did my job,” Himeko replied.

  Ivanka fixed her eyes onto Himeko, seemingly held no mockery, only truth. "You did more than doing your job. You broke her rhythm. Sierra thrives on pace... and you gave her nothing."

  Ivanka smiled, "It is rare to see such discipline in a league so obsessed with motion."

  Himeko didn't know what to comment. "Thank you," she muttered, then took a sip of her water to hide her confusion.

  Ivanka let the silence settled between them. She seemed to be weighing something; her gaze drifted back to Himeko, studying her profile, like a jeweler inspecting a rough-cut diamond.

  "Port Osea is a brave city," Ivanka mused, "Hard work. Steel. The sea. Suits you."

  "I like it there."

  "I'm sure you do." Ivanka let out a soft laugh before continuing, with a casual but underlying serious tone. "Heidel is different. We value history. Strategy. We believe that a perfect system can elevate the individual to divinity."

  "Devils came close last year," Ivanka said softly. “We possess firepower, yet we lack the walls necessary to secure the win.”

  Ivanka paused. Let the silence be felt, ever thickened with her knowing smile and the scent of her perfume. Then, she dropped the bombshell.

  "Have you ever considered leaving the port, Himeko?" Ivanka asked. "Heidel Devils are looking for a shield. A true defensive anchor. We are looking for you."