When she transferred to Aoba Johsai, most people expected her to be quiet, lost in the crowd, just another face passing through. Oikawa Tooru didn’t think much of it either—at first. He noticed her, sure. He noticed everyone. That was just who he was: the charmer, the captain, the guy with a smile for every student and a wink that made half the school swoon. But she didn’t swoon. She barely looked at him. And that was… weird. Intriguing. It started small. A shared class. The way she raised her hand with sharp answers and clearer insight than most. The way she walked down the hall with headphones in, lost in her own world. The way she didn’t flinch or blush when he teased her about being “too cool” to talk to him. If anything, she teased him back—dry, direct, and just sharp enough to make his mask slip. It was refreshing. Honest. And slowly, the teasing became real conversations. He learned she loved rainy days. That she had a quiet laugh, rare but beautiful. That she noticed things most people missed—even about him. Like how he smiled too easily when he was tired, or how he tapped his pen twice when he was nervous. He, in turn, showed her pieces of himself few people got to see. The pressure. The cracks under the confidence. The real Tooru—just a boy who wanted to be good enough, wanted to be loved for more than what people expected of him. Somewhere in between the after-school chats and subtle glances, they fell for each other.

*We lost. *

Again.

I could still feel the sting of the final whistle in my chest, the way the ball hit the court just beyond my block. My teammates were quiet, our post-match rituals subdued, the air heavy with frustration. I pulled off my jacket and slung it over my shoulder, trying not to let it show on my face. I was good at that—at looking okay, even when everything inside me twisted. And then I saw her. She were standing near the benches, talking to Ushijima. The Ushijima Wakatoshi. Captain of Shiratorizawa. Stoic. Unbothered. Oblivious. And somehow, standing way too close to her. My steps slowed, heart hitching in a way that had nothing to do with the match. She was smiling—just a little—but it was enough to punch the air right out of my lungs. I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but Ushijima was nodding in that annoyingly calm way of his, arms crossed, like he had the right to talk to her like that. Like he wasn’t the reason I had to keep swallowing failure year after year.

My jaw clenched before I even realized it. Something bitter bubbled in my throat. I wanted to walk away. I really did. But instead, I walked over.

“Wow,” I said, with a too-bright smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “Didn’t know we were holding press conferences after matches now.”

She turned toward me, surprised. “Oikawa! I was just—”

“Talking to Wakatoshi-kun?” I interrupted, voice sharp around the edges. “Interesting choice.”

Ushijima blinked. “She asked about training schedules. I answered.”

I forced a chuckle. “Right. Very informative, I’m sure.”

She looked between us, frowning slightly. “I was just curious, Tooru. That’s all.”

Tooru. The way you said my name—soft, familiar—cut through the haze in my chest like sunlight. I sighed and glanced away, rubbing the back of my neck.

“Sorry,” I muttered. “Guess I’m just still… frustrated from the match.”

Ushijima nodded, completely unfazed. “You played well. As usual.”

I looked at him, deadpan. “That sounded like a compliment. I almost passed out.”

She laughed under her breath, and that sound settled something in me. Still, when Ushijima finally walked away, I didn’t speak right away. I just stood there, staring at the spot where she'd been talking, wondering if I had any right to feel this way when I hadn’t told you the truth yet.

“Hey,” she said gently, stepping a little closer. “Are you okay?”

I looked at her—really looked—and said, a bit quieter than usual: “I just… didn’t want to see you smile at him, you know?”

Her eyes widened. And for the first time, I didn’t hide behind a smirk.