Tap. Tap. Tap.

  Jennifer Annista's heel tapped the floorboards, ticking like time bomb. She sat on the edge of the bench, towel draped loosely over her shoulders, staring holes into the whiteboard Coach Vargo held.

  Vargo drew a circle. He erased it. He drew a line. He erased that too.

  He adjusted his glasses, clearing his throat, pretending to analyze formations, stalling himself from the judgement of his team's ace.

  "Ava," Vargo finally said, turning to his setter. "We shift. The Divers are over-committing to the left. On the next reception, push the tempo to the right. Feed Scout."

  The tapping stopped.

  Jennifer stood up. The bench creaked in protest.

  "Why?"

  She loomed over the coach, her dark hair casting a shadow across his clipboard.

  "She's right there," Jennifer said, raising her voice. "She's waiting. Our fans are waiting. What the hell are we doing?"

  Vargo swallowed, seeing the hunger in her eyes. Taking a breath, Vargo steeled himself. He was the coach, the adult of this professional volleyball team.

  "Divers are not our the target, Jennifer. You know that." Vargo said firmly.

  He stepped closer, invading her personal space.

  "They are a traffic cone, Jennifer. The Victoria and Heidel are waiting, they analyze every one of our games."

  Jennifer narrowed her eyes, opening her mouth to argue.

  "Last year," Vargo cut her off. "Do you remember the semi-finals? Do you remember sitting in the tunnel with ice wrapped around your knee while the Divas celebrated on our court?"

  Jennifer stayed silent, closing her mouth.

  "We cannot risk your knee, or your shoulder," he said. "For a regular season game against a mid-table team. We need you whole for the big games."

  Jennifer stared at him and for a while she didn't break contact.

  She let out a sharp exhale through her nose. The tension drained from her shoulders. She sat back down, crossing her arms, staring at the floor.

  "Fine," she muttered.

  On the other side of the center court, there was silence.

  Hrrhhhh. Hrrhhhh. Hrrhhhh.

  The sound of Himeko's breathing dominated the huddle. She sat bent over, elbows on knees, sweat dripping from her chin in a continuous stream. Her legs shook uncontrollably, tremors traveled up her thighs, vibrating through her entire frame.

  Jules Moreno looked at Sarah Lemear. Sarah looked at Willow. No one spoke.

  Coach Elena Juverich walked into the center of the circle. She looked at her captain, surveying if Himeko was still eligible for the rest of the set. She made her judgement.

  Elena turned to the reserve bench.

  "Efbi," Elena said softly. "You are in."

  Himeko's head snapped up. The motion was too fast; she swayed, catching herself on the bench.

  "What?!" Himeko rasped. Her eyes widened in bloodshot. "No."

  She tried to stand, yet her legs wobbled.

  "Coach, no. I can go. We are tied. I have the timing. I can stop her."

  "Sit down, Himeko," Elena said. Her voice held no anger, only a sad finality.

  "We can win," Himeko pleaded. "Just one more set. Let me finish it."

  Elena sighed. She crouched down, bringing her face level with Himeko's.

  "The timeout killed it, Himeko. The adrenaline is gone. The moment you try to jump again, your legs will give in and I have to burn a sub immediately." Elena said gently. "I would rather lose this game and keep you for the next match. This match is a lesson. We learned we can fight them. That is enough for today."

  Himeko stared at her coach. The truth was a bitter pill. She looked down at her hands which were trembling violently.

  Her fingers curled into fists. Her nails dug into her palms, biting into the skin, seeking a pain sharp enough to wake herself up from the exhaustion.

  She wanted to scream. She wanted to rage against the limits of her biology.

  But she stayed seated and nodded once.

  Elena stood up and patted her shoulder. She turned to Efbi.

  "You're in."

  Efbi stepped onto the court. She adjusted her jersey, looking little against the net where Himeko had just stood.

  On the other side, Jennifer Anmista stared. She looked at Efbi, then scanned the bench where Himeko sat slumped under a towel. The Wolf captain's eyebrows knit together. The fire in her eyes flickered and died out, looking bored again.

  The referee blew the whistle.

  Play resumed.

  It went exactly as expected. Without Himeko's oppressive presence at the net, the space above the tape opened up. Ava Sterling saw the lanes clear and pushed the tempo. Jennifer let Scout Cinster take the slide.

  The Divers fought. Jules scrambled, Sarah swung hard, but the defensive anchor was gone. The rallies were short.

  23-23.

  23-24. Match point Wolves.

  Scout Cinster served. A heavy ball. Lisa dug it, but the transition was slow. Willow set Efbi. The reserve blocker swung, but Naomi Banks was there. Soft block.

  Transition. Ava set Scout on the right.

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  Scout hammered it. The ball clipped the block and spun away.

  TWEEEEEEEEET!

  "Game, Set, Match, Nordvic Wolves."

  The crowd cheered. The Wolves gathered at the net, high-fiving. Jennifer Annista glanced once more at the Osea bench, shook her head, and walked toward the handshake line.

  ...

  On the Divers' bench, no one moved for a second.

  Himeko Nakamura sat still; chest rose and fell. The noise of the stadium faded away, like listening to the ocean from underwater.

  "Cap?"

  Jules Moreno stood in front of her. She waved a hand.

  Nothing.

  Jules leaned in. She grabbed Himeko's shoulder and gave it a firm shake.

  "Himeko. Match is over. We gotta lineup."

  Himeko's head lolled slightly. Her eyes peeled open, glassy and unfocused. She blinked, trying to process the face in front of her. It took a solid five seconds for her brain to connect the visual data to the name 'Jules'.

  "Over?" Himeko let out a single small word.

  "Yes. Come on."

  Jules dug herself under Himeko's arm. She hauled the captain to her feet. Himeko swayed, a tall pine tree in a gale, before finding her balance. She shuffled to the line, shook hands like a robot, and let Jules steer her toward the tunnel.

  The high-speed rail cut through the frozen earth beneath Nordvic.

  Inside the private car, the smell of expensive roast beef and red wine filled the air. The 'exclusive dinner' Elena had negotiated for was being served on white tablecloths.

  Sarah Lemear cut a piece of steak. Willow picked at a salad.

  In the corner seat, Himeko Nakamura was unconscious.

  She had curled herself onto her gym bag against the cold window, jacket pulled up high covering her neck. She slept with the profound peacefulness. Her mouth was slightly open. A small line of drool made its way onto the expensive leather headrest.

  Jules sat across from her, chewing a breadstick. She watched her captain sleep.

  "Mhmmm."

  The train rushed on, carrying them back to the coast.

  "Osea Central. Terminus."

  The intercom chimed; brakes hissed. The train glided into the station.

  The Divers grabbed their bags. They stood up, stretching stiff limbs.

  Himeko remained in her corner.

  "Okay, she's been sleeping for way too long," Sarah muttered.

  She walked over, placing both hands on Himeko's shoulders and shook her. Hard.

  "Himeko! We are home! Wake up!"

  Himeko groaned. She swatted blindly at the air.

  "Five... minutes..." she mumbled into her jacket.

  "No minutes," Sarah said. "Get up."

  It took two more minutes of shaking and loud talking. Finally, Himeko dragged herself upright. She grabbed her bag, movements sluggish and uncoordinated, and stumbled off the train behind her team.

  ...

  They reached the parking garage.

  Sarah stopped by her sedan. She looked at Himeko, who was fumbling with her car keys, trying to stab the unlock button but missing it twice.

  "Himeko," Sarah said. "Leave the car here. I'll drive you. You can get it tomorrow."

  Himeko looked up. Her eyes were red-rimmed, heavy bags hanging under them. She shook her head slowly.

  "My house... opposite direction... from yours," Himeko slurred slightly. "Inefficient."

  "Inefficient is better than crashing," Sarah argued.

  "I am... fine," Himeko insisted. She managed to unlock the car. "It is ten minutes. I drive slow."

  She opened the door and collapsed into the driver's seat before Sarah could protest further. The engine started.

  Sarah watched the taillights fade toward the exit ramp, biting her lip.

  The dashboard clock read 1:34 AM.

  Streetlights flashed inside of her car: orange, black, orange, black, orange, black.

  She blinked. Her eyelids wanted to stay shut.

  She rolled the window down. The cold, wet Osea night air rushed in, slapping her face. It helped, a little.

  She turned the radio up: static and pop music.

  A traffic light turned yellow. Himeko's brain registered the color change a bit late. She slammed the brakes a little too hard. The car jerked to a halt, the seatbelt locking against her chest.

  She breathed out, heart hammering tiredly.

  Green.

  She turned right. Her street. The familiar row of apartment buildings loomed in the fog.

  She pulled into her spot. Put the car in park. Killed the engine.

  She sat there in the silence of the garage for a full minute, gathering the will to move her legs one last time.

  Himeko stood in front of her door. Her hand trembled as she tried to fit the key into the lock.

  Click.

  The bolt slid back.

  She pushed the door open. The apartment was dark and quiet; air smelled of stale coffee from that morning.

  Himeko stepped inside. She let her gym bag slide off her shoulder. She kicked her sneakers off, leaving them scattered in the hallway.

  She walked toward the bedroom. Her feet dragged; every step felt like walking through mud.

  She reached the doorway of the bedroom.

  Himeko didn't even bother changing and fell forward.

  Her body hit the mattress face-first.

  A long breath into the duvet.

  Consciousness faded instantly.