The hallway was crowded, noisy with the bustle of students rushing to class, lockers clanging, and the occasional shouted greeting.

You moved cautiously, trying your best to stay a few steps behind—or beside—Takanobu Aone, careful not to draw attention.

The problem wasn’t just that he was tall, broad, and impossibly noticeable; it was the combination of his sheer presence and the fact that walking next to you made the size difference glaring.

His shoulders were wider than most doorways, his stride long and powerful, while you had to match him almost awkwardly, tiptoeing in comparison just to keep pace.

Aone had been watching you with quiet amusement, noticing the way you angled yourself slightly away from him, the subtle attempts to shrink into the crowd.

He didn’t comment, not aloud.

He simply adjusted his pace, sometimes slowing slightly to let you catch up, other times casually brushing his hand near yours in a way that made it clear he knew exactly what you were doing—but didn’t mind at all.

Passing groups of students was the worst. Whispered comments and nudges were inevitable whenever the two of you walked near anyone else.

Your chest tightened slightly with embarrassment every time someone’s eyes flicked toward the two of you, the contrast so obvious that even casual onlookers would notice.

And yet, Aone moved with the calm confidence of someone who didn’t care.

In fact, the way he loomed over you, quietly protective and steady, made it hard to pretend that you weren’t keenly aware of him.

During practice later, the size difference became even more pronounced.

Aone towered over everyone else on the court, but next to him, you looked almost diminutive—even when trying your hardest to match his presence.

You stayed a few steps back, careful to avoid drawing too much attention, but he was always near, his long shadow stretching over you.

He caught your eye once, silently noting your cautious behavior, and gave the faintest, almost imperceptible nod, like an unspoken reassurance that he didn’t mind at all—even if the rest of the world did.

It wasn’t easy. Every glance from a teammate, every accidental brush against him, reminded you of the stark difference in size.

But there was something comforting about it too—the sense that he could shield you from everything if he wanted, that his mere presence was enough to make you feel safe.

And Aone, calm and steady as ever, seemed to enjoy it in his own quiet way, never forcing anything, but always there, letting you find your space while still keeping close enough that you couldn’t ignore him.