The hallway was crowded, as it always was between classes. A constant hum of chatter filled the air, lockers clanging shut, footsteps echoing on the polished floor. You had just turned the corner, mind elsewhere, when it happened.

A sudden, sharp impact.

Books slipped from your hands, the pages scattering across the floor like a fan of cards. The force of the collision knocked the breath out of you for a second, and before you could steady yourself, you heard a cold, detached voice.

"Watch where you're going," he muttered, his tone flat, before brushing past you as if nothing had happened.

It was him—Tsukishima Kei. His presence was unmistakable, towering over most students with his cold, indifferent gaze that seemed to pierce right through you. He had looked down at you, not with concern, but with that usual bored expression, as if even this moment was just another annoyance in his day.