On the Divers' bench, the weight of the 25-12 loss seemed to fade. The number still glared from the board, but the mood beneath it had shifted. Players sat forward, elbows braced on knees, eyes locked on their coach.

  Coach Elena uncapped her marker. She attacked the whiteboard.

  Squeak. Squeak. Squeak.

  Arrows carved away from the net, plunging deep into the backcourt. She ringed the attack line. She scored harsh diagonals through the defensive zones.

  "We're changing the tempo," Elena said. "Jules, run the B5. Sarah, A3 to B1."

  She tapped the board hard. "When the Wolves attack, you transition immediately. Assume the ball is coming up. Assume Himeko keeps it alive. We counter down their throats before they even land."

  Elena's eyes burned. Her gaze swept the bench, sharp, unhesitating. For the first time in years she was abandoning her spreadsheets. Betting everything on one player.

  Reckless strategy it was. The scheme stranded Himeko alone against the most dangerous hitter on the planet. But Elena looked at the determined faces in front of her, Elena knew it was the only card they had left to play.

  Jules Moreno stood up, grabbing her water bottle. She wiped her mouth and turned toward the end of the bench.

  Himeko sat apart. She was staring at her own hands again, spreading the fingers, curling them, spreading them. Her chest rose and fell in a rhythm that was too deep, too rapid for a simple timeout. Sweat matted her dark hair to her forehead.

  Jules walked over. She hesitated a half-step away, close enough to feel the heat rolling off her captain's skin, then set a hand on Himeko's shoulder.

  "That last touch," Jules said softly. "That was insane. You actually made her tip."

  Himeko took a ragged breath, held a beat too long and let it shudder out.

  "Lucky," she rasped. Her voice came out abraded. "I'm... nowhere near fast enough."

  "Cap." Jules squeezed her shoulder. "You're breathing hard, don't burn yourself out. You can lean on us. You know that, right?"

  Himeko finally raised her head. Her eyes were dark, but whatever burned behind them hadn't dimmed. If anything it had sharpened into something that made Jules want to step back.

  "Just focus on the attack," Himeko said. Her breathing was evening out, but her gaze held its edge. "I'm not fast enough yet. But I'll reach her."

  Jules withdrew her hand.

  TWEEEEEEEEET!

  The whistle shrieked.

  "Let's go." Himeko rose, shook out her legs, and walked toward the court without looking back.

  TWEEEEEEEEET!

  Himeko Nakamura walked to the net. She turned her back to the net, facing her team once.

  Jules Moreno nodded. Sarah Lemear crouched, ready to spring. They were committed to the suicide pact.

  Willow Vance stepped up to the service line. She adjusted her glasses, the lenses reflecting the stadium lights. She spun the ball once.

  She tossed it.

  Her palm connected with the leather, sending a driving float serve deep toward the Wolves' baseline. It carried speed, hunting the back corners.

  The Wolves' libero read the trajectory. She shuffled backward, creating space, and dropped her hips.

  Thump.

  The reception was clean. The ball popped up, soaring toward the net.

  Ava Sterling stepped into the setter's pocket. Her eyes locked onto the left wing.

  She lofted the set, pushing it high and outside.

  Jennifer Annista began her approach. Her strides ate up the floorboards, generating immense momentum.

  Across the net, Himeko Nakamura moved.

  Her legs drove into the varnish, propelling her laterally with a speed she hadn't possessed in the first two sets, upper body eerily still while everything below her waist fired like pistons.

  Behind her, the Divers moved too.

  Elena's directive had taken root. Jules Moreno and Sarah Lemear deserted their defensive stations, tearing toward the attack line and converting their retreat into approach runs in one pivot. They were wagering everything on the block.

  The area around Himeko was completely empty with zero support.

  Jennifer Annista detonated off the ground.

  Himeko Nakamura launched with her.

  They met at the apex. Himeko's form was immaculate: shoulders locked, arms extended, fingers spread wide into an airtight seal.

  Jennifer saw the wall.

  A flicker of recognition crossed her face; once again, Himeko's total obstruction left no daylight.

  Jennifer's arm was already cocked back, loaded for a power swing.

  In those suspended milliseconds, Jennifer's torso wrenched violently to her left, dragging her hitting shoulder across her body. She angled for a vicious cut shot, steep and sharp enough to shear across the outside edge of Himeko's hands.

  Himeko reacted. Her palms drifted right, shadowing the shoulder rotation, plugging the cross-court lane.

  Jennifer caught the adjustment. Mid-swing, she abruptly killed momentum.

  Still hanging, stealing one impossible heartbeat of air time, Jennifer snapped her wrist back in the opposite direction.

  Too quick for the eye to follow, she flipped her hand outward and redirected the ball back toward the seam she'd just lured Himeko away from.

  The ball hissed off her fingertips. It threaded the gap on Himeko's left - the channel she had abandoned a fraction of a second earlier, bypassing the block entirely.

  Himeko's eyes widened in horror. Her hands were committed to the right. She could only watch.

  The ball traveled down the line.

  It fell into the vast, unguarded expanse of the Divers' backcourt.

  THUD.

  The ball struck the floor.

  TWEEEEEEEEET!

  "Point, Nordvic Wolves! 1-0."

  Jennifer Annista landed lightly. Her eyes locked onto Himeko Nakamura, assessing the speed of the block that had nearly caught her. Then, without a change in expression, she turned her back and walked to her rotation spot.

  TWEEEEEEEEET!

  Scout Cinster to serve. A driving ball aimed at the back corner.

  Lisa Denire skidded across the varnish, wedging her platform beneath the ball at shin height.

  Thwump.

  The pass rose clean to the attack line.

  The Divers' engine roared to life. Willow Vance stepped under the ball. On her left, Jules Moreno accelerated, her approach aggressive and loud, stomping the floorboards to draw attention.

  Across the net, Naomi Banks tracked the noise. The seven-foot giant loaded her weight forward, eyes pinned on Jules, already stretching to smother the outside hitter in her wingspan.

  Willow flicked her wrists backward.

  The ball shot to the right pin.

  Sarah Lemear was already there. With Naomi committed to the decoy, the net gaped open. Sarah gathered, elevated, and swung free.

  BOM.

  The ball buried itself into the floor of the Nordvic court.

  "Point, Port Osea Divers! 1-1."

  Jules Moreno collected the ball for the service. She planted herself at the baseline, rolling the leather between her palms. Her eyes narrowed, focused on a specific target.

  She tossed and struck.

  The ball cleared the net on a downward curve, hunting Ava Sterling.

  The Nordvic setter froze for a split second, realizing the ball was coming for her chest. Ava dropped to her knees, abandoning her role as the playmaker to become a defender. She bumped the ball up awkwardly.

  "Help!" Ava shouted.

  Scout Cinster filled the spot. The opposite hitter looked surprisingly comfortable taking the second ball. She set her feet and pushed a high, clean set toward the left antenna.

  Jennifer Annista began her run.

  Himeko Nakamura watched her and exploded upward.

  They hung in the air together. Jennifer drew her arm back. She saw Himeko sealing the line, hands pressing over.

  Jennifer torqued. She wrenched her torso, whipping her arm across her body for the sharp cross-court angle.

  Both of them understood the win condition. Faster person got the whole rally.

  FASTER.

  Himeko threw her hands to the right, chasing the swing. Her palms arrived in the flight path a millisecond before the ball.

  Fwump.

  The ball slammed into Himeko's hands. She killed the momentum instantly, softening her wrists. The ball popped straight up, a gentle lob floating high over the Divers' court.

  "GO!"

  The Divers surged. Willow Vance sprinted to the ball. Jules Moreno was already airborne, crashing in on a pipe.

  Willow set it fast.

  Jules met it flush.

  Naomi Banks tried to close the middle. She raised her soft hands, looking to absorb the energy.

  Jules unloaded everything she had.

  BAM.

  The ball cannoned into Naomi's palms. Too much force for finesse. The ball ripped off the giant's hands and sprayed into the middle court.

  TWEEEEEEEEET!

  "Point, Port Osea Divers! 2-1."

  "YEAHHHHHHHHH!"

  Jules Moreno threw her head back, roaring at the ceiling lights. She spun around, pumping both fists, her face flushed with the high of crushing a ball past a seven-footer.

  Sarah Lemear grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her in a rough celebration. Lisa ran in from the back, jumping up and slapping Jules on the back.

  Himeko stood amidst the chaos, wiping sweat from her upper lip. She looked at Jules, at the fire burning in the younger player's eyes. The corner of Himeko's mouth lifted, a genuine smile broke through her mask of concentration.

  ...

  Scout Cinster stood near the three-meter line, staring at her own palms.

  Taking the second ball on that play had been a necessity, and despite pulling it off cleanly, she still blamed herself for the lost point, maybe a little tight to the net, lacking the velvet touch of Ava Sterling.

  She looked up, anxiety tightening her chest. She braced for a glare, for the MVP, her idol to snap at her over the lack of precision.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  When she looked up to find Jennifer, the Ace was looking elsewhere.

  The Nordvic captain stood at the net, gaze fixed through the white mesh, locked onto the retreating back of the Port Osea middle blocker.

  Then the corner of her mouth twitched upward, as if getting blocked had somehow thrilled her.

  Scout blinked. She had played alongside Jennifer for three seasons. She'd seen the MVP bored, angry, locked in, triumphant.

  Yet she had never seen her looking... happy.

  Jennifer turned around, catching Scout's eye. The grin remained yet there was the composure of a player who had earned every accolade and knew exactly what came next.

  "Nice set, rookie," Jennifer said. "Do it again."

  She turned around for the next play.

  Rally 6.

  Jennifer reached her apex and saw Himeko sealing the line. She snapped her arm through. The ball exploded cross-court, traveling faster than any reaction time could answer.

  THUD.

  "Point Wolves."

  Rally 9.

  Jennifer approached again. This time, Himeko matched the timing perfectly, pressing her hands over the net, invading the airspace. Jennifer swung. The ball slammed into Himeko's palms.

  Pffft.

  Soft block. The ball died, floating gently toward Diver's court. Lisa dove. Pop. Willow set Jules. Jules buried it.

  "Point Divers."

  Rally 13

  Jennifer went high, over the block entirely. The ball landed inches inside the baseline.

  Rally 15

  Himeko read the shoulder drop. Shifted left. Got a single hand on the ball. Deflection. It floated high. The Divers transitioned. Sarah killed it.

  The scoreboard raced upward,

  8-9.

  10-11.

  11-13.

  The rest of the court became a supporting cast in a duel that consumed all the attention in the arena. Crowd noise rose and fell with every jump.

  12-14.

  Himeko Nakamura stood at the net. She bent over, resting her hands on her knees.

  Drip. Drip. Drip.

  Sweat poured off her face, splashing onto the polished wood between her shoes. Her jersey was soaked through, clinging to her skin like a wetsuit. Strands of dark hair had escaped her ponytail and plastered themselves to the back of her neck.

  Her lungs burned. Every breath felt like inhaling broken glass. The cold air of the arena did nothing to cool the furnace raging inside her chest.

  "Faster..."

  Jules Moreno stood three feet away, watching her captain. She could see the tremors running through Himeko's legs. She could see the way her fingers twitched at her sides, grasping at empty air, rehearsing the block even while the ball was dead.

  Jules took a step forward. Her protective instinct screamed at her to intervene. Call a timeout. Tell Himeko to breathe.

  Not only Juled but all of the present Divers saw it. Himeko was reaching her breaking point. Pushing past the safety limits, running on fumes and sheer will.

  But breaking her focus now would be fatal. If they touched her, if they offered pity or concern, the adrenaline holding her together might evaporate. They had to let her burn.

  Jules stepped back, clenching her fist.

  "Let's go, Cap," she whispered to herself.

  ...

  Himeko straightened. Wiped the sweat from her forehead with her forearm.

  The lights of the Nordvic arena blazed overhead. White, harsh, unforgiving.

  For a split second, the white invaded her eyesight, fading to a distant memory. The smell of burning cryohracite gave way to floor wax and old gym mats.

  She was back in Facility B.

  She saw a red jersey across the net. A man with a goofy grin and eyes that saw everything.

  Show me, Captain.

  Was he watching her now? Perhaps in the comfort of his home, or maybe sneaking a glance at his phone during his meeting, seeing the score?

  She looked down at her hands. There was only a singular color, the color of result, the color of him.

  She had caught up, now standing toe-to-toe with the monster, forcing the best player in the world to work for every single point.

  Are you watching, Kevin?

  This was the fruit. The thousands of jumps. The endless "Again." The soup. The text messages. It all culminated in this singular ability to stand here, right now, and refuse to die.

  Himeko closed her hands into fists. Warmth bloomed in her chest, caressing her heartbeat, overpowering the exhaustion.

  I'm doing it. I'm holding her.

  The whistle blew.

  She dropped into her stance. Her eyes locked onto Jennifer Annista. A smile graced her effort.

  Again.

  Scout Cinster stood at the service line. She bounced the ball once, eyes narrowing as she picked her spot, reading the setter's posture for any tremor of hesitation.

  She tossed.

  Scout launched and hammered a jump serve that tore over the net on a vicious arc, diving straight for Willow Vance's chest.

  A streak of blue intercepted the missile.

  Lisa Denire threw her body across the floor. She slid in front of Willow, her platform locked rigid.

  THWUMP.

  The ball cracked off her forearms and popped high. A textbook save.

  "Fruit Salad!" Willow shouted the code.

  The Divers surged. The transition was instantaneous, a tide of blue crashing toward the net. Jules Moreno sprinted hard on the left, planting her feet, barking for the set. Loud, aggressive, a decoy run built to drag every eye on defense.

  Across the net, Naomi Banks watched. The seven-footer held her ground. She tracked Jules closing in but refused to commit. Her gaze slid to the right side of the court.

  Willow's wrists flicked back. She fired the ball to the right pin.

  Sarah Lemear was waiting.

  Naomi pushed off her left foot. She covered the distance with startling speed for her frame, sliding laterally to close on Sarah. She arrived a fraction late, hands reaching up to form a partial seal.

  Sarah swung. She saw the opening and drove the ball hard.

  The ball clipped Naomi's fingertips.

  Fwhoosh.

  The giant's touch was soft but maddeningly effective, bleeding most of the venom from it. The ball tumbled lazily over the block, dropping into the Wolves' backcourt like a leaf.

  Scout Cinster was there. She dropped to one knee, cradling the slowed ball with a gentle underhand dig.

  "Chance."

  The pass floated high, dead center.

  Ava Sterling stepped beneath it. She took a breath, holding the moment. The court was chaos, players scrambling, lanes choked. Logic said reset. A cautious tip to the corner.

  Ava ignored logic. She looked at her captain.

  She pushed her hands skyward, lofting the ball high above the antenna. The signature play. The Queen's tribute.

  Jennifer Annista began her approach.

  She moved like a storm front rolling in. Every step gathering mass, the floorboards groaning beneath her. She planted and detonated upward.

  Himeko Nakamura launched simultaneously.

  They rose together, ascending into the white glare of the stadium lights.

  Himeko reached her apex. Her form was mechanically immaculate, shoulders locked, fingers spread, arms sealing every inch of the hitting window.

  Through the white mesh, Jennifer saw the wall.

  She smiled.

  Her lips peeled back over her teeth in a wide, feral grin. Her eyes blazed with a manic joy. Finally, a door that wouldn't open itself for her.

  Jennifer hung in the air.

  Then, she broke reality.

  Her body convulsed. In mid-suspension, she wrenched her torso backward and sideways, contorting her spine into a shape that defied anatomy. Her right shoulder dropped, her left hip twisted up. She transformed from a vertical threat into a horizontal slash, completely altering her hitting angle in a millisecond.

  Himeko's eyes widened. The ball was no longer where it should be. The hitter was no longer where she should be. Jennifer had folded herself into a new dimension of attack.

  The hit was coming from the side, wrapped around the block, targeting a vivid line of empty floor.

  Impossible.

  Himeko's brain revolted. Nothing made sense anymore, this was a dead end.

  She gritted her teeth so hard her cheeks ached.

  Faster.

  The word detonated behind her eyes.

  Faster.

  Faster!

  FASTER!!!

  Jennifer snapped her arm forward. She unleashed a swing from her contorted position, a whip-crack of power aimed at the open air past Himeko's shoulder.

  Swoosh.

  Himeko's hands vanished.

  Himeko flicked her entire upper body to the right. Her arms snapped sideways so fast that it cut the air in half.

  Her palms arrived at the new coordinate an instant before the ball did.

  BOOM.

  The ball smashed into Himeko's hands. It was stuffed. Instantly.

  The ball rocketed straight down.

  THWUMP.

  It impacted the floorboards directly beneath Jennifer's nose.

  Gravity reclaimed them both.

  Himeko landed heavy. Her knees buckled. She stared at her own palms, fingers trembling violently, skin flushed an angry red. Her chest heaved in ragged, sawing breaths. She couldn't quite believe she'd touched it.

  Slowly, she looked up.

  Jennifer Annista stood on the other side of the net.

  The Wolves' captain was staring at the ball on the floor. Then, she raised her head.

  The smile was still there. Wider now. It was a look of ecstatic delight, monster who had finally found a toy that refused to break when she threw it to the floor.

  Jennifer locked eyes with Himeko.

  "Nakamura of Divers!"

  She pointed a finger at Himeko's chest.

  "Let's play."

  Himeko Nakamura - New special ability acquired

  Special Ability: Block Flick (Early Stage) - Effectiveness: ???

  Himeko executes an instantaneous lateral snap of her arms while airborne. This reflex-driven technique allows her to intercept attacks that have already bypassed her initial blocking position, effectively correcting her defense in real-time. Its success window scales directly with her reaction speed.