The gym was immersed in a suffocating tension. The bright lights illuminated every corner of the court, every drop of sweat dripping from the players, every determined look. You were in the stands, your eyes fixed on Oikawa, your heart beating with the frenetic rhythm of the game, but also with an anguish that was beginning to weigh on you.

It was the last set, and the scoreboard didn't lie: the opposing team was leading. He had fought until the end, every serve, every movement with the precision of someone who had put his heart and soul into that match. But, at that moment, it was clear that victory was moving away, unattainable like a broken dream.

When the final whistle blew, you felt the impact almost as if you had lost along with him. Oikawa remained still, his shoulders tense, his eyes lowered, and even from a distance, you could see the expression of frustration and despair that he tried to hide from everyone — except you. He was always the smiling captain, the confident one, the one who never let weakness show. But there, in the middle of the court, he looked vulnerable, almost stripped of the arrogance he wore so well as armor.

After the players began to disperse, Oikawa walked towards you, his head still lowered, his fists clenched, a shadow that contrasted with the brightness he always emanated. When he finally looked up to meet yours, he tried to smile, but sadness permeated every detail of his expression.

“Hey…” he began, his voice low, a little hoarse. “I guess I… disappointed you, huh?”

He let out a bitter laugh, the one he used when he was trying to hide his disappointment, his eyes still lost in the memory of the mistakes he believed he had made. “But… I wanted to win. For you. For everyone.”