When it came to the Niro-Helfi qualifiers, Jinai knew the drill. In the hour before dawn, when the sky was still velvet blue, she’d shower and shiver in the calcite-caked spray jets. She'd towel off, comb oil into her damp hair. She'd pull on the wetsuit and fight with the zip, then slip a loose t-shirt and pants over it.

Then she would swoop to the kitchen—like she did now—to fix herself breakfast in a blender. Protein powder, milk, fruit for good measure. Today it was a banana. Sometimes she struggled to keep the milkshake down; other times she didn’t. This morning, she didn’t.

No dawdling. Only fast, sharp thoughts.

She would swipe up her jacket and sports bag from the dining chair, pull on her shoes, lock her apartment door behind her. She’d scurry down the stairs beneath the faint glow of the sky, reaching for the filograph in her pocket. Then she would write a good-morning message to Josa, and tense her shoulders as she sent it…

Jinai’s feet halted halfway down the dark stairs. Her fingers were wrapped around the device in her pocket, but she stopped short of taking it out. There was no bulwark to hold back the whirlpool of yearning that tore through her, right there.

One year later and it still pulled her in.

She stumbled down the last steps, briefly thrown out of the rhythm of the routine, but she willed her feet forward, clenching her jaw. One day, and then the next.

On the pavement at the bottom of the stairs, the cold pre-dawn raised goosebumps on Jinai's skin. It never got too cold in Wulien, but this could take the cake. Leaping into her bicycle seat and flicking the headlight on, she kicked off into the deep blue morning.

The masts of the racing yachts were silhouetted in the purple sky over the marina. In the dawning light, Muli Bay—the grandest in all of Helfi—looked alien. The network of concrete jetties that projected out into the sea was a hive of activity: racing pairs in matching suits and their crews bustled all along the piers, rigging boats and testing their crackling Thread relays. Locals and visitors from farther afield mingled and laughed, none of their faces quite visible without the light of the sun.

The snatches of conversation she caught were methodical, conspiring—clipped humour masking anxiety. She heard a few cries of her name from strangers as she strode past, each of which she answered with a wave and a good morning, heart rate elevating.

It had been nine years and scores of races now, but the chill and the buzz on the first morning always sent an electric thrill through her. A concerted waving of arms drew Jinai's attention to the head of Pier 3E, and she flew through the ocean wind in a daze, finding the shapes of the control crew gathered by the white-and-maroon mast of the Cloudlander, the vessel for which the team was named.

Telaki was pacing about and gesticulating to Lujang, their networker, who pressed a Thread relay headset to her ear. Tapping intently at his massive clipboard-sized filograph was their navigator Iki—a head taller than the others when he wasn’t bowed over in intense work.

“Hey, hey! The stars are here!” he yelled out, waving his filograph in the air.

Jinai sped to a jog—then she felt a hand collide with her right shoulder blade as Anqien skidded to a stop beside her. “Morning!” They grinned like they had just caught the world’s largest barracuda, laughing as her startlement morphed into a smile. She clasped the hand they held out, bumping shoulders.

“One minute later and we were gonna start sending filos! You’re down for qual one of three,” Telaki said, sliding herself between them to throw her arms around their shoulders.

"Morning!" Iki welcomed them with bows. “The course is just about the same as last year—dead northeast across the strait, round the buoy at the tip of Canlan Island, and back to Muli Bay. A one-hour round trip in ideal conditions.”

Anqien nodded. “We did it in an hour and ten last year?”

“Yeah, thereabouts.” Telaki nudged them towards Lujang. “We're looking at thirty-five yachts per race, so—”

“Thirty-five per race?” Jinai answered. “What in the heavens?” Lujang clicked her tongue and flicked Telaki's arm off Jinai's shoulders, before rotating her slightly, tucking the headsets into the strap of her goggles over her right ear.

“Yeah, crowded stage today,” the coach went on. “Thirty-five per race, and they’re letting the top five of each one through.”

Anqien nodded through the briefing. “Feels like everyone turned out for this one,” they said.

“They won’t be so threatening once you’re actually out on the water,” Telaki cut in, arms falling back to her sides. “The Mirages though. They’re a problem. Janda has just been over by their prep station, says they’re looking vicious today. Taking no questions. Wasting no time.”

“Huh, guess Xye isn’t high out of his mind this time.” Everyone remembered how Xye U.L. had showed up at last year’s quals unable to tell sky from sea, yet he and Zera, the deadly pair making up the AmaShiru Mirages, had pulled through in the top three of their race. Then, of course, they had gone on to snub Jinai and Anqien of the win for the second year in a row.

Iki tutted. “Not the Juice Kids,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Don’t let them spook you, now or ever.” Then his eyes shifted to his screen again, the starting tables reflected in his glasses. “They’re in the second qual race today.”

“Kinda hard to be scared of them the third year around,” said Jinai.

“Well, I’m a little scared, to be fair,” Anqien answered, twisting their teal-dyed hair around their index finger.

Jinai was, too. It was a fear she held deep in her chest, where it couldn’t tell her how to act. Anqien didn’t need to see their senior and teammate's doubt.

“How’s the wind looking?” she asked instead.

Iki scratched his neck. “We’re expecting rough wind on the water and mostly easterlies today, so it’s looking like a snappy broad reach back,” he answered. “There’s a chance of winds turning northeast as the day warms up, so keep your eye out, you might have the wind in your back for some of the return leg.”

Adjusting her suit around her elbows, Jinai nodded. Her fingers were freezing, but then again, they always were, morning of the first race. “That’s what I like to hear.”

It was all business from here. Telaki called warm-ups, waving them back into line. She had taken them both through the same sequence of sixteen stretches enough times, but each movement felt infinitely consequential, now they were minutes from starting.

As they wound down for their departure, the coach pulled them both into a group huddle. “Take my word for it when I say you've got absolutely nothing to worry about,” she said. “Now! Go show those other sailors how it's done.” She clasped each of her protégés' hands in turn, and boosted them towards the ladder.

Jinai paused at the top, staring down at the moored Cloudlander in the biting breeze. Fingers wrapped around the sun-flaked paint on the railings, she drew in a long breath and let it out, before finally clambering down.

Setting foot on the deck felt like coming home. It bounced at the impact of Jinai's feet, before it was tugged by the outward-flowing current, straining at the mooring rope.

The ten-minute warning sounded over the waters as the pair were hoisting the sails—a triplet of foghorn blasts that stirred up a ruckus at every berth in the marina. Just off the peninsular Muli Fish Market, two fluorescent orange flags stood aloft, marking the start line—the starboard mark atop an official boat, the port mark on the head of a buoy.

“Hey hey, J and A! Thanks for waiting.” Janda's voice finally entered the relay as Jinai and Anqien were wrapping up their safety checks.

"Janda!" Jinai shouted into the tympanum, glaring up at the jetty. “Where in Ihir’s name were you? Anything we need to know before we set out?”

“Hey, chill out, it’s all good—if there were anything urgent I’d have run back,” came Janda’s answer from the earpiece. “Not much besides the fact that the Mirages are looking ready to destroy everything in their path. Lucky for you, you’re both top-seeded so you won’t be seeing them anytime soon. What you do have today is the fifth seed, the Catcher from Kani-do, same crew as last time. The Catcher was in the finals last year, remember them?”

“Not really.”

“Perfect, because they’re the only ones worth worrying about in your qual.” A pause full of stuttering interference punctuated her words here. “But seriously. I’ll be all eyes when the Mirage goes out. You guys just focus on your run. Good luck, by the way.”

“Thanks and thanks,” Anqien said.

“Do me a favour and crush the competition,” Janda replied. “I’ve got a bet going with my ma. About how much you’ll beat second place by.”

“The pressure’s on,” Jinai chuckled. Then the line was silent again.

She cast a glance at the departing fleet of boats and then back at the jetty, before waving up at the crew and signalling to the mooring rope. With a nod, Telaki tossed the rope coil off the bollard and waved as it unravelled with a hiss, bouncing on the pier.

“Fly that flag high!” their coach called, now the only sound that carried over the rush of waves. “Go Cloudlanders!”