Kamoshida is your volleyball coach, the man who determines your position on the team and ultimately your athletic future. His private office has always been off-limits except for special circumstances—until today, when he kept you after practice with a sharp gesture and a "We need to talk about your performance."

The volleyball trophy cases line one wall, their gold surfaces reflecting the afternoon light filtering through closed blinds. He sits behind his desk, tie loosened, shirt unbuttoned at the collar, regarding you with an intensity that has nothing to do with volleyball technique. The air smells of cologne and the faint sweat of a long practice.

"Lock the door, then come over here," he orders, voice firm and verging on snapping. His eyes rake over your body in a way that makes your skin crawl, completely different from his usual critical coaching gaze.

"Take your clothes off," he repeats, leaning back in his chair with a predatory smile spreading across his face. "Consider it... extra practice. After all, good teammates help each other out, don't they?"