3:42 PM.

  Kevin Marvant stood in the hallway, pressing the apartment doorbell with his thumb.

  BZZZZZZT.

  Silence greeted him. Kevin shifted his weight, readjusting his grip on the massive white cooler digging into his hip. Inside the big styrofoam box sat a tiny ocean's worth of fresh sea bass. He had spent his entire morning on a chartered boat off the Osea coast, fighting off sea monsters to haul in the catch.

  He scratched the back of his head with his free hand. The afternoon practice for the Divers was probably still running. He let out a small shrug, hoisting the cooler slightly higher. Coming back later made the most sense.

  He turned his feet toward the elevator bank.

  Brrrrrck.

  The wall-mounted intercom snapped to life. Static buzzed.

  "Go home."

  The voice belonged to Himeko. The usual sharp edge was surprisingly absent; she sounded a bit weak. "I can't see you today."

  Kevin stepped back to the camera lens. "I brought a giant box of fish. Caught them myself. Figured a world-class chef could use some top-tier ingredients."

  "Eat them yourself."

  "Bro, I can't. Too much for one guy to finish. Also, trying to transport this much raw seafood all the way back to Victoria is a bad idea, don't ya think?"

  A heavy, raspy exhale filtered through the tiny speaker.

  "Hold on."

  The intercom clicked off.

  Kevin stood patiently by the door. He checked the time on his phone. Five minutes ticked by. Then ten. The hallway remained perfectly still. He eventually leaned his shoulder against the wall, dropping the heavy cooler onto the carpet to save his arm.

  Fifteen minutes passed. He frowned, finally raising his finger to press the buzzer again.

  Click.

  The deadbolt snapped back. The door swung inward.

  Himeko stood in the threshold. Her eyes were unfocused. Her knees buckled the exact second the door cleared her path.

  She pitched forward, falling face-first out of the apartment.

  Kevin, surprised, reacted instinctively. His arms shot out, catching her mid-fall.

  She slammed into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her back, bracing his wide stance to absorb the sudden weight. Heat radiated off her body in waves, soaking right through his shirt. She felt like a tiny volcano.

  "Himeko?"

  He gave her shoulder a gentle shake, trying to rouse her. She let out a weak mumble, her head lolling against his collarbone, entirely unresponsive.

  Kevin looked down at the unconscious captain in his arms, then glanced back at the giant box of sea bass sitting on the hallway floor.

  He made a quick decision. The fish could wait outside for a bit.

  He adjusted his grip, scooping her up securely against his side to support her weight. He stepped over the threshold, helping her inside the apartment, and quickly kicked the front door shut behind them.

  Kevin draped her arm over his wide shoulders. He kept his free hand locked safely around her waist, steering her stumbling feet down the hallway.

  ...

  The bedroom door stood half open. He maneuvered them inside, navigating the tight space between the dresser and the bed. To get her onto the high mattress, he had to shift his grip. He slid one arm under her thighs, hoisted her up for a fleeting second, and gently deposited her onto the duvet. A brief, necessary lift, he rationalized. He pushed away any lingering thoughts about the physical contact, stepping back immediately to give her space.

  Himeko sank deep into the pillows. Kevin stood by the edge of the bed, observing and thinking.

  He took a moment to look at her. The unbreakable captain of the Port Osea Divers looked shockingly fragile lying there. Her facial features were inherently soft; the hostile aura she usually projected to keep the world at bay sometimes masked this natural softness.

  Kevin cleared his throat, shaking the observation from his head.

  "Himeko," he called out softly. "Did you take any medicine?"

  A weak mumble vibrated from her lips. Her eyes stayed shut.

  Clear enough answer. She definitely hadn't taken anything. Her lips looked dry and chapped, signaling severe dehydration. Kevin scanned the room, looking for a glass or a pill bottle. A set of keys, which he assumed were for her house, sat abandoned on the bedside desk. He snatched them up, pocketing the cool metal.

  "Hang in there for a bit. I'll be right back."

  ...

  Twenty-five minutes later, the apartment door clicked open again. Kevin hustled back into the bedroom, carrying a big grocery bag.

  He cracked open a fresh water bottle and dropped a dissolvable tablet inside. The liquid fizzed. He sat on the edge of the mattress, slipping a hand behind her shoulders to carefully prop her head up.

  "Drink this," he coaxed, guiding the rim of the bottle to her lips.

  She swallowed instinctively, probably because the raging fever prevented her from ever being truly asleep, drinking down half the liquid before slumping against his arm. Kevin gently laid her down. He pulled two gel cool packs from the bag. He placed the first one across her burning forehead. To position the second one, he had to slide his fingers beneath her neck, lifting her sweat-dampened hair out of the way.

  The proximity and skin contact sent a sudden spike of awareness through his brain. He quickly forced the intrusive thought down, securing the cold pack against the nape of her neck and pulling his hands away.

  Quickly, her ragged breathing began to smooth out. The harsh grimace of the fever loosened its grip on her face. Kevin watched her chest rise and fall in a much steadier rhythm. A relieved smile curved his lips.

  Sleep would do the heavy lifting now. Her body would demand food when she finally woke up.

  He grabbed the bag and stood up. Leaving the bedroom door cracked open so he could listen for any movement, he padded quietly out to the hall. The massive styrofoam cooler of sea bass still sat by the entryway. He hauled it into the kitchen, rolled up his hoodie sleeves, and began prepping a warm rice fish soup.

  Kevin pulled a heavy cutting board onto the kitchen island. He hauled one of the plump sea bass out from the styrofoam cooler, grabbing a chef's knife from the wooden block.

  His culinary skills were... at a passable level of survival. He wasn't as impressive a chef like Himeko displayed with her vegetable prep. Thick, slightly uneven slabs of ginger quickly piled up next to roughly chopped scallions. He scaled and filleted the fish, managing to extract decent portions of the white meat.

  A splash of oil hit the bottom of a deep pot. He slid the ginger and scallions in, letting the heat release a fragrant aroma into the apartment. He seared the fish chunks briefly, listening to the satisfying sizzle, a cue that made one go "you know, I'm something of a chef myself", before pouring in a generous amount of water and two cups of rinsed white rice.

  He covered the pot, lowering the flame to let the mixture simmer into a thick porridge. The volume of the meal was massive. A giant steel pot filled practically to the brim sat bubbling on the stove. When she finally woke up, a bottomless supply of warm food would be waiting for her.

  Leaving the kitchen bathed in the savory scent of seafood and ginger, Kevin tiptoed quietly down the hallway.

  The bedroom had settled into the hazy orange of late afternoon. He approached the edge of the mattress, leaning over the sleeping captain. He hovered his palm an inch above her skin.

  The fierce heat had dissipated. Tension bracketing her eyes and mouth had melted away completely. Her chest rose and fell in a slow rhythm, drawing in deep breaths of cool air. The medicine and the cold packs were working their magic. Himeko had finally slipped into a true, restorative rest.

  The evening stretched out in measured increments.

  Kevin established a patrol route through the apartment. Every hour, the alarm on his phone would buzz with a muted vibration. He would walk to the freezer, grab a fresh gel pack, and slip through the bedroom doorframe.

  He gingerly peeled the lukewarm plastic from her forehead. A quick brush of his knuckles against her skin confirmed her temperature was remaining stable and cool. He placed the fresh pack against her brow, smoothed the duvet over her shoulders, and crept back out.

  Repeat.

  The sun vanished completely, giving way to the foggy Port Osea night. Himeko stayed completely submerged in her deep slumber, dead to the world, resting safely in the quiet dark.

  The digital clock on the microwave flipped to midnight.

  Kevin stood in the center of the living room, finally sleepy. He dragged his feet over to the sofa, collapsing onto the cushions.

  The furniture was short for his frame. His calves dangled awkwardly over the armrest. He let his head loll back against the upholstery, staring up at the shadowed ceiling for a second. His eyes slid shut, and the exhaustion pulled him under.

  The digital clock burned red in the darkness. 3:14 AM.

  Himeko peeled her eyes open. The AC's digital display glowing a cool 26 degrees Celsius hit her eyes first thing. She inhaled, testing her lungs; air went in cool and easy, no longer scraping against a raw throat. Her body felt heavy still, muscles complaining with residual ache from the match, but at least the fever heat had extinguished.

  She moved her head, feeling something squishy on forehead, and another one at the nape of her neck.

  Reaching up, her fingers brushed against the adhesive edge of a cooling gel patch. Someone had placed them there. She peeled the one off her forehead, staring at the blue gel in the dim light. She turned her head to the nightstand. A white pharmacy bag sat there, its top crumpled open, revealing boxes of fever reducers and electrolyte tabs.

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  Himeko winced.

  Memory flooded back in fragmented clips. The hallway. The intercom. A deep voice talking about fish. Then, losing consciousness.

  Kevin.

  The MVP of the league had likely carried her inside. He had seen her pass out in her own doorway, playing nursemaid while she was in a state of vulnerability. It was the absolute worst-case scenario for her dignity.

  And yet, looking at the cooling patch in her hand, the humiliation didn't sting as much as it should.

  She swung her legs off the bed. Her feet touched the floor.

  She walked out of the bedroom. The hallway lights were left on, cutting a yellow path through the apartment. Himeko followed it, stepping carefully.

  She reached the living room archway.

  There, sprawled across her sofa, was The Man.

  Kevin Marvant lay on his back, one arm thrown over his eyes to block the light. His shins and feet dangled completely off the armrest, hovering in the air. He was out cold, chest rising and falling.

  So he stayed...

  Himeko let out a long sigh. She stared at the sleeping giant for a moment, shaking her head.

  She turned toward the kitchen.

  On the stove sat a large stainless steel pot. Himeko approached it and lifted the lid.

  Inside was a white ocean of rice porridge, flecked with green onions and chunks of white fish. The volume was absurd. He had cooked enough to feed the entire starting lineup of the Divers and the bench.

  She turned the burner on low. The porridge bubbled. She grabbed a ladle and filled a ceramic bowl, blowing on the steam.

  She sat at the small dining table. She took a spoonful.

  The taste hit her tongue.

  It was... okay. The ginger was cut a bit too thick. The rice was slightly overcooked, bordering on mush. It lacked the nuanced seasoning she would have used. Standard, passable survival food.

  Himeko swallowed. The warmth traveled down her chest.

  She took another spoonful. Then another. The bowl emptied out fast.

  She stood up and walked back to the stove to ladle out a second helping.

  6:00 AM.

  Ting. Ting. Ting. The phone vibrated against the coffee table wood.

  Kevin groaned, peeling one eyelid open. He reached out blindly to silence the alarm he had set for the next fever check. His hand fumbled, slapped the screen, and the buzzing died.

  He yawned, then stretched his back. The sofa was definitely not designed for a 6'6" athlete.

  He rubbed his eyes. Vision cleared slowly.

  As he opened his eyes, Himeko Nakamura was sitting in a chair directly in front of him.

  She wasn't wearing the sweaty jersey or the sleep clothes from yesterday. She was dressed in soft gray lounge pants and a clean white tee, knees pulled up to her chest, arms wrapped around her shins. Her chin rested on her knees.

  For a second, her expression was unguarded and soft. Watching him sleep.

  Then she saw his eyes open.

  The softness snapped shut, Himeko broke her casual sitting pose into a more rigid one.

  "Morning," Kevin croaked, his voice thick with sleep. He blinked up at her. "Fever gone?"

  "I'm fine," Himeko stated. Her voice was clear, the raspiness mostly healed.

  She stared at him.

  "Are you fully awake, Kevin?"

  Kevin rubbed his face, trying to wake up his brain. "Yeah. I guess so. Why?"

  Himeko stood up.

  BAM.

  Her foot connected with his hip.

  Kevin flew. Gravity took him sideways, tipping his center of balance over the edge of the narrow sofa. He crashed onto the carpet.

  "Ow!" Kevin wheezed, clutching his side. "What was that for?!"

  Himeko stood over him, hands on her hips, glaring down.

  "Do not ever," she hissed, pointing a finger at his nose, "carry me around like a sack of potatoes again. And do not sleep in my house without permission. It is creepy."

  Kevin groaned, grabbing his hip. He lay flat on the rug, staring at the ceiling. "Oh come on! What do I do? You fell on me and I supposed to leave you there?"

  Silence.

  Then he heard a sigh.

  Himeko crouched down next to him. The anger in her posture deflated, leaving only a flushed embarrassment. She poked his arm softly.

  "Are you... hurt?"

  Kevin looked at her. Her cheeks were pink, partly from the recovering fever, partly from something else. And she wouldn't meet his eyes.

  "Thank you," she muttered, speaking to the carpet. "For the help. For the medicine. I was... really tired."

  Kevin smiled. He sat up, rolling his shoulders, still in a bit of pain.

  "Nah, it's fine. No big deal. You looked like you needed it. Glad you're fine now."

  He looked toward the door, then down at his socks.

  "Well, mission accomplished. Fish delivered, patient recovered. I should probably get going before you decide to kick me again."

  He turned, heading for the entryway where his sneakers waited.

  Himeko stood up fast. She looked at his retreating back.

  "Wait."

  Kevin paused.

  "Yeah?"

  Himeko bit her lip. She gestured vaguely toward the kitchen.

  "That pot," she said. "It is too much. There is absolutely no way I can consume that much carbs by myself."

  Kevin raised an eyebrow.

  "It would be extremely wasteful. So... perhaps you should stay. Help me finish a bowl. Before you drive."

  She looked away, bracing for him to make a joke or tease her about the invite.

  "Well," Kevin said. "Yeah, I'm pretty hungry. Let's dig in."

  They sat across from each other at the dining table.

  Kevin dipped his spoon into the white sludge. He took a mouthful, chewed thoughtfully, and swallowed. He looked at Himeko in exaggerated anticipation.

  "So," he asked, pointing his spoon at her. "The verdict? Is it up to the Nakamura standard?"

  Himeko stirred her bowl. She took a small sip. The rice was mushy, true, but the fish was fresh.

  "It is decent," she admitted.

  Kevin grinned, looking victorious. "You can add more stuff to your liking, maybe it will enhance my masterpiece. Our cooking styles might complement each other."

  Himeko lowered her spoon. She gave him a flat look.

  "Stop it."

  Kevin chuckled, taking another large bite.

  He watched her eat for a moment, his expression sobering slightly.

  "You really pushed it in Nordvic, huh?" he asked.

  "I had to. The team needed the stops." Himeko stared at the broth. "But Coach gave me two weeks off. My fever broke this morning. My muscles are just fatigued. I should be court-ready in four days. Five, maximum. Two weeks is... unnecessary."

  "It's logical," Kevin countered. "Elena knows the board. She sees the playoffs. If you burn out now, you're gone for the season. She's priming you for the finish line."

  Himeko sighed. She knew he was right. Hearing it from him just made it harder to argue.

  They finished the first round in silence. Kevin scraped the bottom of his bowl. He looked at the massive steel pot on the stove, then back at Himeko.

  "Okay," Kevin said. "You said 'decent.' I want to taste 'exceptional.' Show me your version?"

  Himeko stood up. She picked up her empty bowl. "You want me to change the whole pot?"

  "Yeah. Remix it. I want to see the master at work."

  Himeko walked to the stove. She turned the burner back on low. The porridge bubbled sluggishly.

  She opened the fridge. She pulled out a bottle of sesame oil, a shaker of white pepper, and a jar of chili crisps. She moved with practiced mastery. A dash of oil. A shake of pepper. She stirred the pot, the spoon scraping the sides, folding the new ingredients into the white mass. She tasted it, added a pinch of salt, and stirred again.

  Kevin watched from the table, his chin resting in his hand. He nodded along as if taking mental notes on a complex play.

  "See," he said, his voice soft. "This makes way more sense. If you just cook for me, I don't have to worry about anything. I could just eat."

  Himeko froze. She turned the heat off.

  "Stop saying stupid things, Kevin."

  She ladled the new mixture into his bowl and shoved it toward him.

  They went for round two. The flavor was exponentially better. The sesame oil coated the blandness of the rice, and the pepper provided a pleasant heat that lingered on the tongue.

  Kevin ate like he hadn't seen food in a week. He went back for thirds. Then fourths.

  Himeko nursed her second bowl. She ate slowly, listening more than talking. The conversation drifted. They talked about the weird architecture at the North of Osea. They argued about the best brand of knee pads. Kevin told a story about getting lost in a subway station in the capital for three hours because he refused to ask for directions.

  The morning light shifted across the table. The sun climbed higher.

  By mid-noon, the massive pot was nearly empty.

  Kevin stood up. He patted his stomach, which looked like he was about to give birth to a globe. He groaned with satisfaction.

  "I think I ate half my body weight," he wheezed. "I might need a wheelbarrow to get to the car."

  ...

  He stepped into his sneakers, wincing as he bent over. He straightened up, looking at her one last time.

  "Thanks for the meal, Captain."

  "Drive safe," Himeko said.

  Kevin gave a wave and walked out the door. He moved a lot slower than when he had arrived.