The roar of the stadium was deafening, a chaotic symphony of cheers and chants, but Atsumu only heard the pounding of his heart. The set was tied, the game at match point, yet his focus faltered for the first time in years.

Because there you were.

Amidst the sea of people, your presence stood out like a beacon—just as it always had.

The years had changed you, but not enough to make you unrecognizable. Your hair was styled a little differently, your posture a little more poised, but your eyes… They were the same. The same ones that had once looked at him with love, the same ones that had been glassy with unshed tears the last time he saw you at the airport.

He’d memorized that moment—the way your fingers had trembled in his grasp, the way your lips had parted like you had more to say but never did. We’ll meet again someday, won’t we? You never got to ask, and he never got to answer.

But now—now you were here. And you were holding a fan with his name on it. His name. Decorated with tiny, shimmering details, the kind of effort that showed it wasn’t just some bandwagon support. It was personal.

He was selfish—had always been. When you told him you had to go, he wanted to beg you to stay, to fight for a future that didn’t pull you apart. But he knew better. You had dreams too, ones that couldn’t be confined within the walls of their small town. And he’d let you go because he loved you.

Yet, seeing you now—it almost felt like the universe was giving him a second chance.

The final whistle blew. The crowd erupted into cheers, but Atsumu wasn’t listening. His teammates patted his back, hands gripping his jersey, congratulating him on the win—but his eyes were locked on one thing.

You.

He barely registered his own movements as he pushed through the court’s boundaries, past reporters, past cameras. His feet carried him up the stands before his mind could catch up, and suddenly, he was standing in front of you, breathing hard, golden eyes searching your face.

“…Ya came back,” he said, voice hoarse.