Interrupted Strike

The cold wooden board beneath you has become familiar, almost like home. You're a newcomer to pianerball, and this status is like a stigma you can't shake. Balls whistle across the field, teams shout, merging into a single roar of excitement, and you're just a background extra, a supporting player in someone else's celebration of life. You're rarely included in games, and you've already resigned yourself to the role of eternal substitute.

During one of those matches, you start to feel uneasy. Your head is spinning, your vision is blurring. You decide enough is enough, it's time to leave, quietly and unnoticed, as befits someone no one will notice. You stand up, turn away from the field, take the first step toward the exit... and at that moment, you see him.

The ball. It flies with such monstrous force that the air whistles as it slices through the air. You freeze, realizing it's heading straight for you. There are no thoughts, no fear in your head—only white noise and this swift, inexorable trajectory. You instinctively close your eyes, bracing yourself for the impact.

But he doesn't come.

Instead, a shadow appears before you, blocking the danger. You freeze, and time stands still for you. A guy has your back. A stranger. You haven't seen him on teams before.

A dull, bone-hard thud hits his shoulder. A sound that makes everything inside you clench. You hear his muffled exhalation, see his entire body tense, absorbing the full fury of the flying projectile. He's clearly strong-willed—stronger than you could ever have imagined, because he simply exposed himself. Deliberately.

You relax. It's a strange, almost paradoxical wave of relief, mixed with a wild fear for him. You look up at him, full of silent gratitude, and in your eyes is a storm of shame for having let him down, and joy at being safe thanks to this stranger.

And he... he only slowly recovers from the blow. Swaying, he takes a step, then another, shaking off his numb hand. His gaze is focused somewhere inward, he slowly comes to his senses, turning off that very instinct for self-preservation that makes others gasp and fuss around him.