"Dam! Wake up. I need hands." Kevin snapped his fingers.

  Damian, who had been leaning against a ball cart with his eyes closed, peeled one eyelid open. He groaned, shuffled onto the court anyway, picking up a ball lazily.

  "One set," Kevin called out, moving to the attack line. "Standard tempo. Do the chicken cuckoo grandma."

  "Yeah, yeah," Looking half-asleep, he stepped into the setter's position, Damian's posture subtly shifted. The slouch remained, his hands were loose and attentive.

  Himeko was bent over, tapping the heel of her shoe to ensure a snug fit. She straightened up, shaking out her arms as she zoned in. She locked her eyes onto Kevin's chest.

  "You ready?" Kevin asked.

  "I move when you move."

  "Fair enough."

  Kevin took his first step as he threw the ball to Damian.

  The acceleration was instantaneous. Himeko immediately mirrored him.

  To both men, her movement was a thing of beauty. There was no lag time as there was no hesitation. The moment Kevin's weight shifted, Himeko was already shuffling laterally, gliding across the court with the smoothness of a ballet dancer. Her hips were squared, her arms already rising.

  Against 99% of the players in the world, Himeko Nakamura was already in position to kill the play.

  Damian, the sleepy setter, became someone else the nanosecond the ball touched his fingertips. His lethargy disappeared as he used all ten fingers to capture the ball at the exact moment it contacted his palm.

  He fired a laser beam of a set, flat and incredibly fast, aimed at a point in the air that was currently empty.

  Himeko was surprised by speed of the set; it was much faster than she expected, yet she would still be able to catch it if she reacted immediately. Her brain calculated the trajectory. She sent the signal to her legs to: Jump.

  Before Himeko's knees could even bend to load her jump, a shadow eclipsed the ceiling lights.

  Kevin was already up in the sky. He hadn't waited for the ball to reach the peak; he had jumped before the set was even halfway there. The ball was met at an altitude that seemed physically impossible, hanging in the air like a yellow-blue balloon.

  He swung.

  BOOM!

  Tearing through the air, the ball burried itself into the floorboards three meters behind the net with such force that bounced high up to the ceiling rafters.

  The echo of the impact of the ball against the rafters rattled the windows of the gym.

  Then, silence.

  Himeko stood at the net, her arms still half-raised in preparation, feet flat on the ground. The jump never occured.

  She stared at the spot on the floor where the ball had impacted, her mind struggling to reconcile the timeline of events. She had tracked him and made the correct read, but between the moment she decided to jump and the moment she tried to execute it, the point was already over.

  Kevin landed lightly; his sneakers barely made a sound much opposite to the thunder he had just striked. Kevin stood up straight, looking through the net at the wide-eyed statue of the Iron Maiden.

  "I guess that settled it," Kevin said, "My involvement would be beneficial to your training."

  ...

  Himeko stood motionless, staring at the invisible circle area of the floorboards where the ball had landed.

  I was there, she told herself. I saw the approach, the set.

  She replayed the sequence. By all the laws of physics and volleyball theory she had studied, she should have been in the air, pressing her hands over the net. She was instead a spectator in her own body.

  It had to be a fluke. A momentary lapse in her movements. Maybe she had blinked. Maybe the long break after the Olympics had rusted her reflexes more than she thought.

  Looking up, Himeko's eyes were as confused as her pride was bruised.

  "Again," she snapped.

  Kevin, who had been retrieving the ball, paused. Tossing it lightly on his hand, he smirked, the fish was caught.

  "Thought we had a deal? One block, remember?"

  "That wasn't an attempt, I didn't even jump. Again.”

  Kevin chuckled, tossing the ball to Damian. "Alright. One more. For science."

  Damian caught the ball. He tapped the side of the ball, signalling a play.

  Kevin nodded and started his run.

  This time, Himeko raised her focus to the highest level.

  Step. Step.

  Tracking his treads, she was faster this time, as she shuffled aggressively laterally. Her body was 1-to-1 to his movement, as her eyes never leave the track of his whereabout.

  I have him, she thought. He's going to the pin.

  Himeko glanced at Damian's hands, waiting for the ball to leave the setter's fingers to time her jump.

  Damian flicked his wrists.

  Himeko's brain sent the command: Load. Jump.

  As her knees bent to absorb the energy for takeoff, her eyes registered a bewildering reality.

  This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Kevin's shadow had already eclipsed her.

  A reckless trust it was, as Kevin had bounced off the ground before the ball had even left Damian's hand, it was as if he knew that the ball would be there no matter what.

  Himeko's legs looked up, brain short-circuited, caught in the gap between "standard timing" and whatever insanity this was. Her feet was glued to the floor, heavy as tungsten pipes, watching helplessly as Kevin reached the apex of his jump.

  The ball arrived at his hand instantly, meeting him at the perfect coordinate in space-time.

  THUD.

  The sound was identical to the first: violent, echoing thunderclap. The ball blurred past Himeko's face, the wind of its passage blowing her hair back, before it slammed into the court with a meteoric detonation.

  Kevin landed light. Himeko was still standing in her crouch, feet never left the ground.

  She slowly straightened up, looking from the ball, to the net, then to Kevin.

  Those eyes, she caught, were of the man who would teach her the most important lessons about volleyball.

  "Again."

  Kevin looked at her, and saw the fire burning in her eyes, as well as her refusal to yield. His expression softened. He picked up the ball and tossed it gently to Damian.

  "Right," Kevin said.

  "Again!"

  Damian set. Kevin flew. Himeko froze. Boom.

  "Again!"

  Damian set. Kevin flew. Himeko, desperate to break the cycle, abandoned her read-blocking instincts and guessed. She jumped early, committing to the middle. As he saw her move, Kevin adjusted in mid-air with absurd body control, and hit the ball sharply down the line, miles away from her hands. Himeko swiped at empty air, then landed heavy while the ball mocked her from the corner.

  "Again!"

  Sisyphean. Every time Himeko thought she had timed her internal clock correctly, Kevin accelerated. Every time she tried to guess, he waited. She was always a step behind, a second late, a thought too slow.

  The sun outside had long since set. The gym's acoustic profile had changed; other athletes had packed up and left hours ago, leaving the three of them alone in the vast but quiet facility, occasionally broken by very loud sounds of ball spiking down the floor.

  Himeko was drenched; her jersey clung to her skin; her hair had escaped its tie, strands plastering against her flushed neck; two legs burned with lactic acid, shaking slightly whenver she crouched.

  Even Kevin was showing signs of exhaustion. Beads of sweat trickled down his temple, and his breathing had deepened, losing its rhythm.

  "Again!" Himeko rasped. She lowered her stance, her eyes fixated on the ball in Damian's hands.

  Damian caught the ball but didn't toss it back.

  Instead, he held it against his hip and raised his other hand, making a fan cutting motion across his throat.

  "That's it," Damian's stomach growl audibly even from across the net. "I'm running on empty. If I set one more ball, I'm going to pass out."

  Himeko blinked. The spell broke. She stared at Damian with a look of disbelief, her mouth opening to protest. She had energy left. She just needed one, one touch. Was that too much to ask for?

  "We can-"

  “Sorry, this is it for me.” Damian said. He walked to the bench and grabbed his bottle of water. “We're done for today.”

  Kevin exhaled, placing his hands on his knees for a moment before straightening up. "He's right. We should break by now, can't run on empty.”

  The truth stung more than the exhaustion. Himeko closed her mouth shut.

  Without a word, she spun around.

  She grabbed her gym bag, kicked her training shoes out, shoved her feet into her street shoes, and marched toward the exit. She needed to leave and analyze what was missing, to figure out why she was so slow.

  The double doors swung shut behind her, leaving only silence.

  Damian sat on the bench, taking a long pull from his water bottle. He watched the closed door, then looked up at Kevin, who was wiping his face with his shirt.

  "Well, you broke her. She's definitely not coming back tomorrow, probably thinks we're freaks."

  Kevin walked over to the bench. He stared at the door; a thoughtful smile played on his lips.

  "Nah, she'll be back."

  "You think?"

  "I saw the look on her face, there’s no chance she’s living this down. And about fate too... you believe in fate lil Dam?"

  "I believe in carbohydrates. And proteins. And fats."

  Kevin chuckled, shaking his head. "You're a philosopher."

  "You promised. Dinner. On you."

  "Yeah, yeah. I know a good pasta place near-"

  "Khufuli," Damian interrupted.

  Kevin’s smile froze. He looked up at his setter. "The A5 Wagyu buffet?"

  "I set for two hours straight on an empty stomach for your little flirting experiment. Wagyu. Or I delete your number."

  Kevin winced, mentally calculating the damage to his credit card. He let out a pained sigh, and grabbed his bag.

  "Fine. But you're walking there buddy."