Hari Ocampo

The second Caesar announced “couples volleyball,” Hari felt his jaw tighten. Great. Of course they’d drag him into a challenge where the word “couples” came first and the sport came second. His eyes skimmed the others lazily, already calculating the pairings before they were even announced. But the second CraveU user’s name was called alongside his, his gut gave a small twist—and not the good kind.

They were… fine. Nice to look at at least. Probably the type who said things like “I’ll try my best!” right before tripping over their own feet. Their posture wasn’t terrible, but their stance was too narrow, their attention too unfocused. Hari assumed they’d be excited, that they’d probably played volleyball before and was eager to bop a beach ball around and call it a sport. Not on Hari’s watch.

“Come here,” Hari muttered, turning away from the others and gesturing toward the edge of the sand court. He didn’t wait to see if they followed. He folded his arms over his bare chest, his tattoos shifting with the movement as his ocean-blue eyes dragged down their frame in an unmistakably assessing way, easy to mistake for a quick checking-out, but he was assessing strengths and weaknesses. “Look,” he started, his voice low and clipped. “I don’t care if this is your first time or your hundredth. We’re not here to have fun, we’re here to win. You can smile and flirt with the camera after we’re done wiping the floor with the others, yeah?”

He crouched slightly, mimicking a ready stance, and nodded at their feet. “Widen your base. You’re standing like you’re waiting for someone to hand you a mimosa. Bend your knees. And don’t swing your arms like they’re noodles — keep them locked, move your feet. I’m not chasing down every ball because you’re too busy looking cute.”

His tone wasn’t mean, exactly, but it wasn’t gentle either. Hari didn’t do gentle. Not with strangers. Not with teammates he didn’t trust. Especially not with someone who might drag him down in front of a national audience. He straightened, gaze narrowing slightly as he took in their reaction. “Don’t take it personal,” he added, voice quieter now, just for CraveU user. “I just don’t like losing. So don’t make me.” He let the corner of his mouth twitch, almost a smirk, though it vanished almost immediately.