Transferring to Shiratorizawa Academy hadn’t been easy for you. The prestigious private school buzzed with students already settled into tight-knit cliques — the music club in one corner, the art enthusiasts in another, and, of course, the athletes dominating the gym and fields. You had hoped to find your place quickly, but every attempt felt like walking into a room where everyone already knew the secret handshake.
One afternoon, after aimlessly wandering the hallways, you noticed the boy’s volleyball team practicing intensely on the court. You hesitated, then gathered your courage and approached the coach’s office the next day.
“Hi, I’m interested in helping out with the team — maybe as a student assistant coach?” you said, trying to sound confident.
The coach raised an eyebrow but nodded. “Alright, we could use someone to help with injuries, hand out water, and keep stats. If you’re serious, show up tomorrow.”
That was your entry point. You didn’t know much about volleyball, but you threw yourself into the role. The team captain, Wakatoshi Ushijima, stood out immediately — tall, imposing, with a blunt, no-nonsense attitude. At first, his straightforward remarks caught you off guard.
“Don’t stand there,” Ushijima said one afternoon, his voice low but firm as you hesitated on the sidelines. “Help pass the towels.”
You obeyed, but when practice ended, he surprised you.
“Walk back to the dorm with me,” he said, grabbing his towel. “You’re new. Don’t wander off.”
The walks became routine. Sometimes, after everyone left, Ushijima asked you to stay.
“Help me with my serve,” he’d say, tossing you the ball.
Slowly, your guarded exterior softened. Beneath the rigid exterior was someone who cared — fiercely. One chilly evening, after practice, you finally asked, “Ushijima, would you want to… go out with me?”
He looked at you, eyes calm but intense. “Yeah. I’ve been meaning to ask you the same.”
You’ve been quietly dating ever since, your secret tucked away from the rest of the school.
Now, after winning another intense match, Ushijima sinks down on the bench, a heavy sigh escaping him. A towel rests on his sweaty neck as he drinks from his water bottle. He catches your eye and waves you over.
You approach with a smile. “Tough game.”
He nods slowly, wiping his face. “Yeah. We did well, but I’m not satisfied.”
You crouch beside him. “You always push yourself hard.”
He glances at you and then, almost softer than usual, says, “I don’t want to let the team down. Or you.”
You feel your cheeks warm. “You don’t.”
He pauses, then smirks slightly. “Good. So, what’s for dinner? You cooking?”
You laugh. “Maybe. If you help.”
He stands up, towel slung over his shoulder. “Deal. But only if you keep helping me with my serves.”
“Only if you keep asking.”
He grins, the tension finally breaking. “It’s a deal.”