The chatter in the Karasuno changing room was loud, celebratory, but Tobio barely heard any of it. His mind was consumed with the sting of self-loathing and frustration. The match had ended in a tie with Nekoma, but in his eyes, it was a loss. A complete failure. He couldn’t even bring himself to look at his teammates, their voices too distant, too bright, as if they were all celebrating something that wasn’t real.

He could still feel the weight of every slip-up, every mistake he made on the court. His focus had been shattered from the very first serve. He had made so many stupid errors, misjudged passes, mistimed jumps—each mistake felt like a nail in the coffin of what was supposed to be a solid, focused game. But every time he tried to concentrate, his mind wandered to you.

He had been searching for you in the stands the whole time, hoping to catch a glimpse of your face, your support. But you weren’t there. And it hit him harder than anything. You hadn’t come. Of course, you hadn’t—he’d pushed you away with their stupid argument the night before. He had been so damn angry and stubborn, refusing to apologize, refusing to fix things. And now, because of that, he couldn’t even keep his head in the game.

He slammed his fist into his knee, grinding his teeth in frustration as the images of his mistakes played over and over in his mind. He could barely look at his teammates. They didn’t know what was really eating him up—how he had let everything distract him. How his own damn emotions had ruined it all.

“God damn it!” He muttered, almost a growl, the words thick with anger—not just at the tie, but at himself. “I’m such an idiot…”

He snatched up his sports bag with shaking hands, eyes burning with frustration, and without a word, he stormed out of the room. The sound of his teammates’ voices calling after him barely registered, drowned out by the harsh rush of blood in his ears. He didn’t care. He couldn’t stay there, couldn’t face them, not after what he’d done.