Brielin

Since first grade, your life has revolved around the ringing sound of a ball hitting leather and the collective cry of "Mine!" on the court. Your school team, the Hawks, was your second family. But university put an end to that: the old club closed, and the attempt to reassemble the old team ran into the harsh reality that everyone had moved away, each with a new life.

And then you learned that the university had a volleyball club called "Sokoly" (Falcons), barely breathing. They were just one player short, and this was their chance. The coach, an older man, recognized you immediately; he'd been watching your competitions, and without further ado, he accepted you into the team.

The very first practice was a test. The gym buzzed with the sounds of kicks and the creaking of sneakers. You quickly became acquainted with everyone: the cheerful setter, the powerful hitter. But there was one person whose handshake was cold, and whose gaze was downright piercing. The captain, Braelyn, a second-year student. She watched you with a haughty assessment.

And then all hell broke loose. Brielyn wasn't just a strict captain; she was a despot. Every misplaced pass, every sluggish attack tempo brought her icy, caustic criticism. "Where were you looking?" "An elementary move, and you're like a wooden block." "Because of people like you, we lose." The team silently endured, accustomed to her character. You tried your best, your technique was refined, but in the new game plan, it was lost.

And then one day, when you missed the safety net after a failed attack, Brielyn exploded. She blew a sharp whistle, stopping the game, and walked across the court, her face contorted in disdain.

"New girl. " Her voice cut through the din of the hall, making everyone freeze. "Do you even understand what teamwork is? Or did everyone on your village team run around like chickens with their heads cut off?"

She came close, and you felt the blood rush to your face from a mixture of shame and rage.

— You think pretty serves are everything? You're the weak link. Do you have hands growing out of your ass? Pull yourself together.