The rally was unraveling fast. The Dragons' libero had dug Jules' attack with ease, popping the ball into a high arc toward the center of the court. As the ball descended, the pattern seemed to write itself in stone.

  "DAM! SEND IT HIGH!"

  Kevin Marvant stood at the three-meter line, hiding under no one, yelled out.

  He raised his right arm, pointing a single finger toward the ceiling lights. His eyes locked onto Himeko's through the mesh of the net, burning with a piercing intensity.

  Me and you.

  Damian understood the assignment immediately as he waited for the approaching ball.

  Kevin began his approach.

  Beautiful. Aggressive. Perfect. It was the "Facility Kevin." Seemed like there were no tricks this time. Just a raw, vertical challenge.

  Himeko's heart raced. He was giving her what she wanted. He was stripping away the team dynamics, the tactics, and the noise to offer her an honest duel at the summit.

  Finally.

  She pushed off her left foot, abandoning the center of the court. She sprinted to the pin, her eyes locked on his hips, her timing syncing with his rhythm.

  Damian pushed the ball high.

  Kevin launched himself. Himeko rose with him.

  As they hung there, suspended at the apex of their jumps, the laws of physics seemed to glitch. The squeak of sneakers, the shouts of teammates, the hum of the lights faded into a distant static. Everyone, everything froze in time. The world around them desaturated, turning into a monochrome blur, leaving only the two of them in sharp, high-definition focus.

  Time dilated, stretching a single second into an eternity.

  Kevin's eyes weren't on the ball as they honestly locked onto hers, burning with a confusion that had nothing to do with volleyball. His mouth didn't open to speak, yet the words resonated clearly in the space between them.

  “Why, Himeko? Can you please tell me why?”

  Himeko felt a pang in her chest. She looked back at him, her eyes blinked once, her expression softening in this private, suspended dimension.

  “I had already told you, Kevin,” She communicated. “Some things just aren't meant to be. Why do you have to make this difficult for us both?” She gestured mentally to the world outside their bubble. “There are so many people out there. People who fit your world. People who would be nice to you without condition. Why do you have to insist on something that just can't exist?”

  “What if I told you I had a vision? Would you trust the MVP's intuition?”

  In this frozen slice of time, his words surprised her, Himeko chuckled.

  “Well, the champion doesn't have 'vision,' does he? He just forces things his way until reality breaks.” Her arms extended fully, her fingers spreading to seal off his path, creating a cage of bone and will. “It would be a shame if your 'vision' right now is about to be blocked.”

  Kevin's expression shifted. The intense longing flickered, giving way for a spark of signature mischief that Himeko realized, too late, she had missed.

  “Hmm,” Kevin mused, his eyes drifting away from hers. “I don't know about that.”

  SNAP.

  The monochrome world shattered. Color and sound rushed back in with violent velocity.

  Himeko's hands clamped down hard... on empty air.

  Her eyes shot wide open in horror. She turned her head mid-air, her stomach dropping.

  Down below, Damian hadn't set the high ball. His eyes weren't even on Kevin. A magnificent gambit. While everyone in the gym followed the MVP's ascent, Damian had fired a lightning-fast back-set to the complete opposite antenna.

  Davio was waiting there. Completely unmarked. Not a single blocker within ten feet of him.

  He grinned, realizing the entire defense had been sold down the river by their fixation on his captain. Davio swung freely, with all the time in the world.

  THUD.

  The ball slammed into the unguarded floor of the Divers' court, bouncing high into the rafters.

  TWEEEEEEET!

  "Point Dragons. 15-1."

  Himeko landed on the balls of her feet. She stared at the empty space where Kevin had been floating just a second ago, then turned to see Davio high-fiving Damian.

  She looked back at Kevin. He had landed softly, his expression relaxed. He offered her a small, rabebait-y shrug.

  The whistle blew as the rest of the set unfolded in a nightmare.

  From that moment on the match dissolved into a hazy, suffocating blur.

  18-1.

  Sarah Lemear lunged for a serve that looked like it was going to her chest, only for it to dip sharply to her knees. It shanked off her wrists, flying into the stands.

  The Divers were pulled out of system on every single point. Willow Vance was running marathons across the court, sliding and diving just to get a hand on the ball. And without a stable setter, the offense crumbled.

  Himeko tried to be everywhere at once.

  She watched the ball. Damian flicked a set to the right. Himeko sprinted, jumping to seal the line against Caeser. But Caeser just rolled a shot into the deep corner where the libero should have been, but wasn't, because the defense was scrambling.

  She watched Kevin. He approached aggressively for a pipe attack down the center. Himeko committed, staying grounded to stuff the back-row threat. Damian set Lompo instead, and the giant crushed a ball through the open net, inches from Himeko's ear.

  21-2.

  The mental load was crushing her. In the 1v1 training, the variables were finite. It was physics and psychology between two people. Here, everything turned into chaos. When she focused on Kevin, the ball disappeared to the wings. When she chased the ball, Kevin ghosted into open space.

  Fatigue set in. The Divers looked confused. Their movements, usually crisp and drilled, became sluggish and hesitant.

  "Ouch!"

  Jules and the reserve libero collided in the backcourt, both hesitating on a simple free ball. They knocked shoulders, watching helplessly as the ball dropped between them.

  Himeko stood at the net, chest heaving, sweat stinging her eyes. She looked at her teammates. They were broken. She looked across the net. Kevin was moving pieces in a chessboard she was no longer familiar with.

  25-3.

  TWEEEEEEEEET. TWEEEEEEET. TWEEEEEEEET.

  "25-3. Victoria Dragons win the practice match!" Coach Arona declared.

  Post-match bench atmosphere on the Divers' site was silent.

  25-3.

  Sarah Lemear had a towel draped over her head, looking like a statue of grief. Lisa still stared at her reddened forearms. Jules lay flat on her back on the floor, staring up at the gymnasium lights, chest heaving rhythmically.

  The physical toll of playing against the Victoria Dragons was devastating, but the mental toll of that final set where they had been toyed with, dismantled, and discarded was heavier.

  "You all play well," a voice croaked.

  Heads turned slowly. Efbi, the reserve blocker who had spent most of the match watching from the sidelines, was handing out water bottles.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  "Most teams would have crumbled and we fought back. That second set... that was amazing.”

  Jules let out a groaning exhale and pulled herself into a sitting position. She took the water bottle Efbi offered and cracked the seal.

  "Yeah," Jules wheezed, wiping her face. "We scored sixteen on the Champions. That's something, right?"

  "That dig you made on number 16 (Ceaser) was insane, Hiseki." Sarah's voice came from under the towel.

  "Yes... that felt good," The reserve libero replied silently, clearly proud of herself.

  Tension snapped. Air rushed back into the room. They began to chatter, dissecting the plays, turning terror into stories. They were battered, bruised, and humbled, but they were still a team.

  "But seriously," Sarah pulled the towel off her head, turning her gaze toward the end of the bench. "Himeko."

  Himeko sat with her elbows on her knees, staring at the floor. She hadn't moved since sitting down.

  "You were crazy out there," Sarah said, her voice filled with a mixture of awe and slight intimidation. "I've played with you for three seasons, and I've never seen you look like that. You looked very... different.”

  "Like a monster," Jules added, nodding vigorously. "A very fluffy monster. You were making the guys scared for sure."

  Himeko blinked, slowly lifting her head. She looked at her teammates, at their exhausted but admiring faces. She offered a polite nod.

  Internally, Himeko looked down at her own hands. The progress was undeniable. She was stronger. She was faster. She was lethal.

  And she owed it all to the most annoying person she had ever met.

  Himeko's gaze drifted across the court.

  The Dragons were packing up. The seriousness of the match had evaporated. Kevin was standing in a circle with Davio and Spiky, laughing at something Damian had said. He looked relaxed, light, back to being the charismatic superstar the world knew.

  The "stranger" she had asked him to be.

  A complex knot of emotion tightened in her chest. There was gratitude - grudging, deep, and sincere for dragging her to this level. But beneath it still lay a sharp prick of annoyance. He had tricked her on that final play. He had used their connection, their silent language, against her.

  Always ruin my expectations, she thought, watching him laugh.

  Himeko steeled herself, sitting up straighter.

  This match was it. This was the graduation ceremony. She had learned the lessons, she had endured the trials, and she had acquired the skills. Now, the training needed to be over.

  He needed to leave. He needed to get on that red bus and drive back to his world of championships and accolades, leaving her to the quiet grit of Port Osea. She needed to focus on the season without the constant, chaotic noise he brought into her life.

  She took a deep breath, mentally preparing the final goodbye.

  Goodbye, Kevin Marvant. Thank you. And stay away.

  Coach Elena blew her whistle one last time, signaling the end of the post-game huddle.

  "Showers! Ice! Stretching! Do not skip the cooldown, or your hamstrings will never forgive you!" she barked, shooing the players toward the locker rooms.

  The gym dissolved into the noise of zippers, velcro, and chatter as the Divers began to disperse. The red jerseys of the Victoria Dragons were already filing out the double doors, heading toward the idling buses in the parking lot.

  Himeko lingered near the bench, methodically organizing her gym bag. She placed her knee pads in the side pocket, smoothed out her towel, and aligned her water bottle. She was waiting for the crowd to thin, ensuring her path to the exit was clear.

  She zipped the bag shut and stood up, slinging it over her shoulder.

  The court was nearly empty, save for a few stragglers and the coaching staff debriefing near the net.

  "Himeko. "

  The voice came from behind her, low and familiar.

  Himeko didn't flinch. She had expected this. The mandatory polite farewell. She turned around slowly, her face composed in the professional mask she wore like armor.

  Kevin stood a few feet away. He had changed out of his sweaty match jersey into a clean grey hoodie, his gym bag slung casually over one shoulder. Without the red uniform and the stadium lights, he didn't look like the MVP. He just looked like a guy. A guy who volleyballed for fun.

  "You were incredible in that second set," Kevin said quietly, his tone stripped of all banter. "The way you read the transition offense... I haven't had to work that hard to find a kill in a long time. You truly made me sweat."

  Himeko met his eyes.

  "It was a valuable practice match," she acknowledged, her voice cool. "Thank you for the experience. However, dragging the Men's World Champions across the country for a preseason scrimmage was... completely excessive, Kevin. You could risk injuring your teammates."

  Kevin let out a short, awkward laugh, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. He looked at his shoes, then back at her, looking slightly sheepish.

  "Yeah. I know. It was excessive," he admitted, a lopsided smile tugging at his lips. "I might have been showing off a little bit."

  Himeko felt a small, involuntary softening in her chest. At least he was honest.

  "Safe travels back to the capital," Himeko said, nodding once.

  She turned toward the exit, her heart feeling strangely light yet weirdly weird. It was over yet something lingered. All that aside, she took a step, ready to walk back into her quiet, ordered life.

  "Actually, I'm not getting on the bus."

  Himeko stopped mid-stride.

  The words refused to compute in her brain. She slowly pivoted back around, her brow furrowing.

  "Excuse me?"

  Kevin hadn't moved. He was still standing there, but he looked a little more nervous now, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

  "I'm staying in Osea for a few days," he said. "I have some... PR stuff. Consulting. Recovery work. You know how it is."

  He waved a hand vaguely, the excuse flimsy enough to see right through.

  Himeko stared at him. The red buses outside revved their engines, the deep rumble vibrating through the floorboards. The Dragons were leaving. He was not.

  "You are... staying?" she repeated, her voice sounding hollow.

  "Yeah," Kevin said. He took a small step closer, his expression shifting from awkward to hopeful. "So, since I'm in town... how about dinner tonight? Could use a tour guide right now."

  He smiled an ever warm, disarming smile.

  metalpipefallingsoundeffect.mp3

  The sound of Himeko's logical processor crashed.

  She stood statue-still. Her hand gripped the strap of her bag so hard her knuckles turned white. The fear she had pushed down of him being a distraction had just materialized into flesh and blood, standing five feet away from her in her own city, asking her out on a dinner date.

  Kevin waited, his smile wavering just a little bit under her intense, frozen stare, looking hopeful and stupidly persistent.

  "So?" he asked softly. "Hungry?"