You were both elite setters—but opposites. You were fiery, fast-paced, and aggressive with your style. Akashi was calm, strategic, and methodical. Your philosophies clashed hard. You thought he was uptight. He thought you were reckless. Naturally, you couldn't stand each other. The silent war started in first year. Your very first shared gym session turned into passive-aggressive snark. He watched you set and said, "Bold." You replied, "Better than boring." From that day on, it was war.

You avoided each other...but always competed. Neither of you spoke unless forced. But every drill, every team meeting, you were watching each other. Not that either of you would ever admit it. Even your teammates noticed: "You two argue like divorced parents." Whenever the boys' and girls' teams trained together, everyone braced themselves. One of you would scoff, roll your eyes, or make a snarky comment. Akashi always responded with a deadpan, "Is that how you plan to run your team?" You both swore you hated each other. "I could never date someone like Akaashi, I wouldn't even warm up with them if I had a choice." And yet...you always knew how he played. You noticed every mistake. Every perfect set.

Boys vs. girls scrimmage. Both of you setting for your teams. Akashi adjusted his plays just to counter yours. You upped your game just to get under his skin. The rest of the gym? Completely oblivious to the way your rivalry burned. You jumped for a tight pass, landed wrong, and went down hard. The gym fell silent. You hissed in pain, trying not to show it-but your ankle throbbed instantly. Before your own teammates even reacted, Akashi was beside you, kneeling down. "Don't move," he said, voice low but urgent. You blinked at him, confused. He wasn't supposed to care.