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The whistle is shrill in Himiko’s ears, followed by the sound of the blockers jumping to life, their skates heavy on the track as they push past the pivot line.
Casting a glance back, Himiko looks for Ochako. She’s shoulder to shoulder with Honey Punch, the rival team’s glamazon jammer, waiting for her cue.
Himiko grins, walling up with Kyouka and Tsuyu as Mina jostles for position against the Glamor Girlz’ blockers.
The second whistle splits the air, and the jam begins. Ochako is easily faster than Honey Punch, and slips through the pack’s seams with the same effortless ease that earned her the title ‘Zero-G Jammer.’ She skates like she’s floating across the track, catching up to the back of the pack in no time.
Honey Punch doesn’t have the same luck, not with Himiko and Kyouka cutting her off. When she does manage to shoulder her way through the pack, Tsuyu hip checks her, sending her to her knees. She’s up in a flash, though, but that won’t be enough.
Himiko darts ahead, low in the track’s curve, and signals to her teammates.
“Eat her! Eat her!” Himiko calls out with complete disregard to strategy.
Obliging the request, Mina meets Himiko, Tsuyu and Kyouka right on her heels. It’s a demoralizing trick, and it’s one of Himiko’s favorites, though maybe she just loves it for the name. Eating the baby.
Honey Punch has only barely broken free of the pack, and they’ve swallowed her again. All the while, Ochako deals with the opposing blockers, who are trying to prevent her from scoring by lapping them in earnest.
An unfriendly shoulder slams into Himiko, and she nearly trips over her skates. She knocks into Mina, catches herself on Tsuyu’s hips, and manages to save herself from spilling. In the commotion, Ochako weaves through the pack, hip checking Honey Punch for good measure as she skates home free, tapping her hips to end the jam early.
The whistle blows again, and Himiko watches Ochako throw her arms up, pumping the air.
She’s a star.
The crowd goes wild, chanting ‘Uravity’ and shaking their homemade signs. Himiko skates up behind Ochako, looping her arms around her waist and yelling in her ear.
“They love you!”
“I know,” Ochako hums. Her grin burns brighter than the sun, and she sweeps Himiko into her arms, hugging her fiercely. “I’m never gonna be used to it. Feels like a dream.”
“Fuck it up, babe!” Mina yells, purposefully colliding with the girls. Behind her, Tsuyu rolls her eyes, her lips curling up, and Kyouka twirls a purple braid between her fingers watching them warmly.
The bout continues in similar fashion, each jam a new chance for Himiko to knock people around—her absolute favorite part of the sport by far. For most of the night, Skate Ultra has the edge on the Glamor Girlz, but the rival team manages to throw a few good hits, earning themselves a respectable score when Honey Punch sneaks past Skate Ultra’s wall.
Even at each other’s throats, the girls are good sports. Ochako offers Honey Punch a fist bump when the rival jammer scores, and Honey Punch returns the favor when the roles are reversed. The crowd eats their interactions up, especially when the pair start playing into the hype.
Jealousy sprouts in Himiko’s chest. Who are they to have fun playing around without her? It’s not fair! She wants to be in the limelight, skating ahead of the pack and flirting with the rival jammer.
Distracted, Himiko goes down in a heap of limbs when a particularly trunky blocker hip checks her unexpectedly. She tries to fall small, but the impact still hurts like a son of a bitch.
Himiko doesn’t mind. She takes as much pride in being able to take hits as she does in being able to dish them out. Going down is easy. Getting back up is harder, but there’s always been a certain delicIous thrill to clambering back onto her feet while her muscles are screaming, fresh bruises already forming on her thighs and ass. Trophies of her blood, sweat, and tears.
The whistle blows. Himiko doesn’t know which team has scored, but, suddenly, that doesn’t matter.
Honey Punch stops before Himiko, offering her a hand.
Himiko takes it.
“Switchblade, right?” the girl asks, raising a perfect eyebrow.
Himiko’s heart thumps against her rips more violently than the hit that had sent her sprawling. Honey Punch’s fawn-colored hair is braided. Loose strands frame her face, and her eyeliner is streaked in that artful way that can only be purposeful. Glitter dusts her cheeks, and her plump rosy lips quirk as Himiko considers her openly.
“Mm.” Himiko nods, somewhat starstruck. She’s not one to lose her words. After Mina, she’s the loudest in the bunch. But Honey Punch defies all odds, managing to tongue-tie Himiko in a way that shouldn’t be possible—least of all on Himiko’s home turf.
Honey Punch smirks and pulls Himiko to her feet.
“Look sharp, babe. You’re gonna have to stop me if you want Uravity to score any more points. I’m done playing nice.”
Himiko’s lips part in excitement, her cheeks cherry red and her eyes narrowing sharply.
“Warmed up, finally?” she asks, releasing Honey Punch’s hand despite every fiber of her being telling her not to let go.
“Nah, I was just playin’ around before. I like a challenge, and Uravity is a cutie, don’t you agree?”
Himiko nods automatically. It’s a given fact that Ochako is smoking hot, and she won’t deny it. Still, she can’t tear her gaze from Honey Punch, and an ugly feeling festers in her chest at the other girl’s praise of her friend.
“Off the track!” Big Sis yells from the infield. “Switchblade, let’s go!”
Heeding her coach, Himiko skates away from Honey Punch, her blood burning and mind buzzing with fresh fervor. If the Glamor Girlz’ strategy is to get under Himiko’s skin by sending their hottest player to fluster her, it’s not going to work. Honey Punch has only fueled Himiko’s passion, and her focus sharpens like a knife.
Each jam after the girls’ chat is heated in a way the previous jams hadn’t been. Himiko’s job has always been to stop the enemy jammer from scoring, but now she’s blinded by her interest in Honey Punch, going out of her way to shoulder the girl whenever she’s near.
She manages to knock her down several times, and Honey Punch, sights set on scoring, isn’t able to retaliate, too busy chasing Uravity’s shadow to fight back.
Tension builds between them, and they glare at each other between jams. Or rather, Honey Punch glares, her lips pulled into an annoyed pout, and Himiko supplies her with her most winning Cheshire grin, thriving on their newfound rivalry.
An elbow to the ribs later, Himiko finds herself in the penalty box, entirely unperturbed. Of course, she hadn’t elbowed Honey Punch on purpose. It was a happy accident! The referees had not agreed and neither had Big Sis, whose expression had long since grown haggard.
Himiko’s daydreams of racing Honey Punch in earnest are answered.
The Glamor Girlz swallow Ochako on the last jam of the night. Honey Punch slips ahead, and panic mounts for the Skate Ultra girls. Mina skates ahead of the pack, ready to offer Ochako a whip. Tsuyu goes down under an enemy blocker’s skates and grunts in pain. Kyouka hip checks another, and Himiko sees the opening.
Ochako won’t be able to make it through the pack, but she can reach Himiko—and that will be enough.
“Switchblade!” Ochako’s eyes meet Himiko, and she reaches to rip the star off her helmet.
Himiko’s eyes widen in understanding, and pure adrenaline courses through her. A star switch. She is the team’s pivot, after all.
Snatching the star from Ochako, Himiko slips the panty over her helmet and breaks free from the pack, racing toward Mina.
Eyes twinkling, Mina extends her leg behind her in the air, and really, it’s entirely unnecessary. Still, Himiko loves her for it.
Grabbing Mina’s skate, one hand on the heel, her other on the laces, Himiko squats lower and pulls.
“Go!” Mina yells, whipping Himiko out of the curve.
Himiko’s muscles scream, and she feels like her heart might burst. These are the moments she skates for.
As she races across the track, high in the straights and low in the curves, her girls reform their wall, holding up Honey Punch as she approaches.
Himiko hopes Honey Punch can feel her eyes burning a hole in her back as she gains on her. Catching up, she considers jumping the track’s apex, and really, she ought to have followed her gut rather than her heart.
Throwing caution to the wind, Himiko goes straight for Honey Punch. Jammer on jammer action isn’t uncommon, and if she can take her out and score, she’ll be the talk of the bout for sure, even surpassing Ochako.
Himiko throws a hip check at Honey Punch’s thigh. She tanks the hit, though, and shoulders Himiko back. Ahead of them, Skate Ultra’s wall is seamless.
Honey Punch and Himiko fight their way into the pack, jostling for position and doing their best not to fall over each other.
Himiko swings her head to the side and catches Honey Punch watching her from the corner of her eye. There’s a flash of mischief in her expression, and butterflies explode in Himiko’s stomach. She’s positively sick with desire to get her hands on Honey Punch.
If only jabs were legal moves , she thinks morosely.
With her eyes on Honey Punch’s face, Himiko doesn’t see her hip coming.
Himiko’s grunt of surprise is replaced by one of pain when she hard rails, folding over the track’s rail guarding and flipping out into the suicide seats. Landing on her back, she clutches at her chest, unable to breathe. Black dots her vision, and her head swims as people crowd her.
It was a damn good hit.
Himiko thinks she might be in love.
Honey Punch finds her in the lockers after the bout ends.
“Good game. You’re a menace,” she compliments, offering her hand to Himiko for a second time.
The girls shake, and Himiko flushes brightly, her face split by a permanent grin. Sweat drips from Honey Punch’s brow, and her hair is mussed from her helmet, her makeup melted further down her cheeks and her lipstick smeared. She looks like a vision, especially like this.
“You know,” Honey Punch starts, taping the corner of her mouth, “I totally noticed how hard it was for you to keep your hands off me. Are you always that ruthless or is there something more to it than just a blocker doing her job?”
So she’d noticed. Himiko shakes from excitement.
“You’re different,” Himiko admits. “I love knocking cute girls around, and you’re no exception.”
“And?”
“And I think you’d be a whole lot cuter if you bruised a little.”
At the admission, Honey Punch laughs.
“Name’s Camie,” she says. “You wanna get out of here? Could use a treat before the after-party. Ice cream on me?”
Never one to turn down an invite, Himiko accepts.
Himiko’s never had much of a sweet tooth. That’s Ochako’s brand, not hers.
But making out with Camie in the now empty warehouse bleachers is changing her mind on the matter, each kiss sugar-laden and sizzling.
Camie fists the front of Himiko’s crop top, pulling her closer while Himiko grips the back of her neck, her other hand digging into Camie’s thigh for balance.
Himiko isn’t sure how she got this lucky, but she’s not about to waste a second questioning it, especially not when Camie’s lips are the best she’s ever tasted—probably the softest too.
They only break apart for air, and when they do, pride rushes through Himiko at the sight of Camie’s bruised lips. It’s another mark she’s left on the girl, and it won’t be the last.
Camie snickers and leans back in, stealing Himiko’s lips for another saccharine kiss that feels better than any hit she’s given and rocks her harder than any she’s taken.