Akane walked down the picturesque sidewalk, her teal backpack slung over her shoulder. The last week-plus had been everything she could have hoped for the start of her collegiate experience. Her professors all seemed nice enough, the campus was gorgeous, and they didn’t even have uniforms. Every sorority and athletic team had tried to recruit her. She was well on the way to establishing herself as – dare she say it – one of the popular girls. She took a deep breath, reveling in the smell of fresh-cut grass and possibility. Everything had been working out better than she could have dreamed.

She looked down nervously at her cheap digital watch. Akane had told her girlfriend that everything would be fine, tried to reassure her, but deep down, she was worried about Ranko’s first day at school. Ranko could handle herself for sure, but as terrified as she had been, just a few awkward interactions on her first day could have lasting social repercussions for her, and Akane wanted better than that for her this time around.

Ranma had always been something of a curiosity back at Furinkan High, from his stubborn refusal to wear a school uniform to the bombshell dropping on his first day that he and Akane were engaged. Not to mention, he seemed to get awfully scarce whenever that cute, nameless pig-tailed girl showed up. He’d always shrugged off his social status; back then, Ranma didn’t really care what people thought of him. He played it off as bravado, but Akane had always known the truth; however little some of Ranma’s schoolmates had thought of him, they thought more highly of him than Ranma thought of himself. Ranko, though, had opened herself up to the world. Her very existence was still far too vulnerable, too fragile, to go through that experience again. Akane wished she saw a payphone somewhere so she could check in on her, as she knew Ranko would be at work by now, but she was running late.

She pulled open the glass double doors, the resonant sound of leather bouncing on rubber in a cavernous space indicating she had found her desired destination. Looking around and not seeing anyone with an air of authority about them, Akane peered in through the inner door. The gymnasium could have fit two of Furinkan’s gym inside it; there was probably seating for ten thousand fans. Dozens of girls, several in the purple-and-blue team uniform but others not, were scattered across the floor, batting white balls back and forth over tall nets. One upperclasswoman in a blue and purple volleyball team uniform sat at a table shuffling papers, and Akane approached her.

“Um, hi. My name’s Akane Tendo? I’d like to try out for the team. I was team captain in my high school for three years running.” 

The girl at the folding table popped a bubble of chewing gum in her mouth contemplatively. “Oh, yeah, Tendo! Fumiko said she met you in chemistry class. Sure, head over there to the first net. Look for jersey number eleven.” She pointed off to a volleyball net behind her, where several girls were taking turns bouncing white volleyballs high off their wrists. 

Akane did as the setter instructed, jogging across the gym floor and waving to the girl matching the description she was given. “Hi, I’m here to try out?” 

Number eleven, a short girl with a blonde bob cut that reminded Akane of Yui, waved excitedly. “Sure! I’m Asami, by the way. You can set your stuff down over there, and then let’s see what you got!” 

Dropping her teal backpack in a pile with the other girls’ belongings, Akane took a vacant spot in the rear, on the left side of the court. No sooner had she selected a position than a ball came flying at her. She clasped her fingers on both hands together, letting it strike her wrists and bounce high into the air. “Coming your way!” 

A brunette wearing street clothes and thick glasses on Akane’s side of the net turned too late, and the ball sailed right past her and out of bounds. One of the girls in uniform blew a whistle hanging around her neck. “Sorry, Chiasa, I gotta pull you out. You just can’t miss stuff like that.” Chiasa lowered her head, trudging off the court with slumped shoulders and an expression of utter disappointment.

Akane cringed. The pressure to perform in this environment was a lot higher than her high school team. She tested the grip of her white sneakers on the court surface, watching the ball intently. She didn’t care how hard it was; “lose” was not a word in Akane Tendo’s vocabulary.

For a bit, she played the part of defensive specialist, focusing primarily on keeping the ball from hitting the ground in her territory and setting up her teammates-of-the-moment to strike. On the other end of the net, a girl in a gray tank top bumped the ball to another candidate on her left, who launched it high into the air just a meter or so behind the net. In front of Akane, a redhead in a blue school athletics tee shirt and black shorts ran forward to receive the spike, but her foot made contact with a slick spot on the court and she fell to her backside. 

Her eyes widening, Akane darted forward, jumping toward the net and easily clearing her fallen teammate. Her opponent, a purple-haired girl with a black sweatshirt and a full mask of freckles,  spiked the ball in Akane’s direction, but Akane was ready for it. Because she was already airborne, she couldn’t dig under the ball for her teammates, so she had to take the shot. With a loud outburst that pretty closely resembled her martial arts kiai, Akane struck the ball in midair, reflecting the spike back at her opponent with even more velocity than it had originally come with. The ball struck the girl’s midsection, and she fell with it to the court. A whistle from the girl wearing number eleven indicated that the point had been scored, and Akane walked up to the net. “Hey, are you okay?”

The girl in the black sweatshirt stood, taking a step or two to walk off the shot. “Yeah, I’m good. Nice move!”

After another twenty minutes of scrimmaging and more drills than Akane could count, she was approached by Fumiko, the girl she’d met in chemistry the day before. The short blonde was all smiles, and the little star on her jersey next to the number four indicated she was the team captain. “Akane, hey! You’ve been looking good out there!”

Akane blushed. “Thanks, Fumiko. I’m really hoping I can make the team. I play a ton of sports, but volleyball’s my favorite.”

With a grin, Fumiko motioned with her neck for Akane to follow her out of earshot of the other candidates. “We’re not officially announcing the full roster until next week, but…” She giggled. “Practices are Wednesday nights.”

Akane beamed. “I made it? Really?”

Fumiko rolled her eyes and nodded emphatically. “Uh, yeah? You’re freaking awesome, Akane.” 

Akane shouldered her bag. “That’s great! Thank you so much! I promise I won’t let you down, Fumiko!”

She headed toward the entrance of the gym, her backpack slung over her right shoulder, walking on clouds. She wished she’d thought to bring a change of clothes, though; she’d been working hard on the court for hours and she was drenched with sweat. She noticed a payphone in the lobby area of the gym and reached for a coin, but then took her hand out of her pocket. It would be better to tell Ranko in person, especially if her girlfriend hadn’t had as good of a day as Akane had.

Stopping at a waist-high water fountain to refresh herself, Akane paused at the sound of arguing coming around the corner. As the outer ring of rooms around the main gymnasium was nothing but bare white cinder block walls, the sound carried with an almost eerie echo.

Swallowing the last of her water and wiping her chin, Akane crept a little closer to the sound. It sounded like someone might be in trouble. As she rounded the corner, she saw three girls, all in the volleyball team uniform, engaged in a dispute about something. Two of them blocked the entryway into the gym as if to deny passage to the third.

The short, green-haired girl wearing number fourteen stomped her foot. “Come on, you guys! I’ve been on the team for two years now! Why are you doing this to me?”

Number thirteen, whoever the brunette was, crossed her arms in the doorway. “Look, Nanami, the team has already decided. It’s just not gonna work, okay?”

The girl with the green hair stomped her foot. “But I was our second-leading scorer last year! I don’t get it. Why are you doing this?!”

The other girl in the doorway, wearing number one, scoffed. “You want the truth, Nanami? Fine. You’re a fucking weirdo, okay? Everybody saw you making out with Mitsuru at the sorority party last month. You can deny it all you want, but we know. And the rest of us, well, we don’t wanna be taking showers and getting dressed with some freakazoid checking us out. You can find naked girls to stare at somewhere else.”

Nanami growled, the sound reverberating through the concrete corridor. “Really?! Because of a kiss?! Two years I was in that locker room with you, and I didn’t touch you once! Didn’t even look at you once, Reiko! It’s not like I’m attracted to every girl I see! Be reasonable!”

Reiko, the taller girl, wearing jersey number one and sporting deep purple hair to match it, shrugged. “The decision’s final, Nanami.”

With a frustrated groan, Nanami picked up her blue duffel bag. “Like I would look at you anyway. Fucking horse-faced bitch.” She turned and stomped out of the glass door to the outside.