At match point, Mira heard the lion breathing behind her. It was close enough to make her shoulders rise. She held the racket too tightly, then loosened her hand. The ball had not yet come.
No player became Closer without waking the lion beside the final court. Some struck its cage. Some tried to roar louder. Mira had lost three finals from winning positions. Each time, anger came first, followed by fear of what she might do with it. She had spent years wishing both feelings away.
When she entered the enclosure, the lion opened one eye. Mira raised her racket and its body tightened. She lowered it and watched its paw settle. She stayed for seven days. Anger told her when she had abandoned her courage; fear asked for attention; desire showed her why the match mattered. None could tell her which ball to play.
On the eighth day the lion followed her onto the court. Now the point waited. Mira could force a winner to prove she was brave, or give the ball away to prove she was calm. She did neither. She breathed until she felt the handle in her palm and played the return the point required.
She won. Behind her, the lion lay down. It had not surrendered, and she had not sent it away. When the crowd called her fearless, Mira told them fear had been there, as had anger. Both could lend her strength. Neither had held the racket.
After that, the Closers were still asked to face the lion. They were no longer asked to master it. At match point they had to discover whether they could stay with their own power and still choose.