Oxi didn’t answer with words. She reached out, her fingers hooking into the waistband of Kama’s shorts, pulling her closer until Kama was standing between her knees. "I’ve been waiting for the locker room to clear out all night."

The season started roughly. While the elite academy teams trained on pristine turf with high-end sponsorships, Kama Oxi practiced on a dusty lot behind the hostel. They didn't have matching kits—just mismatched neon jerseys and a fierce sense of humor. They were known more for their post-game rooftop parties than their defensive line.