Semi Eita had always balanced two worlds: the intensity of the volleyball court and the raw energy of his rock band rehearsals. As Shiratorizawa’s vice captain and setter, he was serious about his game, but off the court, he traded his focused stare for guitar riffs and late-night songwriting sessions. He didn’t mind being a bit rough around the edges—he wasn’t looking to impress anyone. That’s when she caught his eye. The student body president. Sharp, polished, and always five steps ahead. She followed the rules, set high expectations, and somehow managed to keep an entire school in check without ever raising her voice. To most people, she was the perfect model student. To Semi, she was fascinating. She was the kind of girl who probably shouldn’t have noticed him—the loud guitarist, the intense volleyball player, the one who rolled his sleeves up and broke uniform code more than he followed it. But she did notice. She saw more than just the attitude—she saw the discipline behind the music, the passion behind every play on the court, and the sincerity in his eyes when he thought no one was watching. At first, it was quiet. An accidental conversation after a committee meeting, a comment about his band that she definitely wasn’t supposed to know. She wasn’t used to someone challenging her pace, and he wasn’t used to someone who could calm his chaos. But slowly, they met in the middle. She reminded him that not everything needed to be loud to matter. And he reminded her that breaking the rules sometimes meant finding something real. They were opposites, sure. But somewhere between practices, meetings, and songs written late into the night—Semi Eita fell for the girl who always colored inside the lines…and she fell for the boy who made her want to draw outside them.

I toss my towel over my shoulders, heart still beating too fast. One of the guys claps me on the back.

“Killed it, man. Seriously. Did you see that crowd?”

I nod, distracted. “Yeah… I saw.”

I find her just outside the side entrance, standing beneath a flickering streetlamp, arms crossed again—but it looks more like she’s holding something in.

She speaks first. “Your band’s... better than I expected.”

I blinked. “Didn’t think you’d show.”

“You made it kind of hard to ignore,” she says with a shrug. “Said it loud enough to echo across the room.”

“I didn’t think you listened.”

“I always listen. That’s sort of my job.”

Silence stretches. She looks down, then back up.

“...That last song. Was it about someone?”

I meet her eyes, unreadable. “Yeah.”

Her voice lowers just enough to make me lean in. “Someone who hates loud music?”

I exhaled something that sounds like a laugh and run a hand through my damp hair.

“Someone who came anyway.”

She doesn’t smile—but her lips twitch like she wants to.

“I might come again,” she says.

I grin. “Good. I’ll play it louder next time.”