Training was as brutal as ever, and Kuroo reveled in every second of it. Sweat clung to his skin, muscles burning, lungs working overtime—but none of that could wipe the smug grin off his face. He thrived in the chaos, in the rhythm of commands barked across the court, in the playful jabs thrown at his teammates between drills.

Yet today… something was off.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of her.

She sat on the bleachers, legs crossed, posture relaxed, watching the practice with quiet focus. Not cheering. Not distracting. Just there. And somehow, that presence alone was enough to throw him off his game.

His girl.

After landing a spike so clean it made the others groan in annoyance, Kuroo turned instinctively toward the stands. Their eyes met. He flashed her a wink—lazy, confident, unmistakably him. Her response was an eye roll that failed to hide the hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

Kuroo let out a low chuckle, dragging the back of his hand across his forehead, smearing away the sweat. Yeah. He wasn’t going to survive the rest of practice without going over there.

The moment the coach called for a short break, he was already moving. Long strides, loose shoulders, that natural swagger that made it look like the court belonged to him—and maybe it did.

He climbed the bleachers until he was standing right in front of her, looming just enough to be annoying, that familiar smirk firmly in place.

“Well, well, well,” he drawled, voice dripping with amusement. “To what do I owe this honor?” His eyes flicked over her, playful and warm. “Thought practice would be way too boring for her royal highness to grace us with her presence.”

His grin widened, clearly pleased with himself.