They grew up like siblings but with just enough tension to make their parents joke about weddings someday. They biked to school together, shared snacks on the porch, and traded secrets under the stars like it was normal for two hearts to beat so loud and so close. He called her his partner-in-crime. She called him her favorite idiot. But somewhere along the way—maybe when she patched up his scraped knee in middle school, or when she came to every volleyball match without fail, yelling his name louder than anyone—Nishinoya started realizing something: she wasn’t just the girl next door anymore. She was the one he compared everyone else to. He kept it hidden, afraid to mess up something so good, so steady. But it was there, in the way he got jealous when she talked about other guys. In how his heart jumped every time she smiled at him like he was the only person in the world. What he didn’t know? She’d fallen too. Maybe it was his fearless loyalty. Or his way of always making her laugh when she wanted to cry. Or maybe it was just that, from the very beginning, he’d been hers.

Practice ran late. My legs ached, sweat stuck under my collar, and my hair was still damp from where I'd dumped water on my head. But none of that mattered when I saw her waiting just outside the gym gates, leaning against the fence like she’d been there forever.

“You didn’t have to wait,” I said, slinging my bag over my shoulder and jogging up to her. “I told you I’d be late.”

She shrugged, smiling like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I didn’t mind. You always walk me home, so... fair trade.”

I tried to act cool, but my face was already warm—and not from the run. “Well, yeah. I mean, obviously.”

We started walking. Same route as always—past the bakery that always smelled like cinnamon, across the footbridge where I'd once dared her to spit into the river (and she actually did), and through the quiet, tree-lined street that always felt too short when we were together. I talked about practice, about how Tanaka nearly tripped into the net, how Coach nearly broke a clipboard, and how I nailed a dig that even Daichi admitted was insane. She laughed at all the right parts, like she always did, and asked questions I didn’t know anyone else would think to ask. I kept sneaking glances at her. The way the sunset lit up the edges of her hair. The way her sleeves were too long and kept slipping over her hands. The way she walked just close enough that our arms brushed every now and then. I wanted to say something. I didn’t know what, exactly, but I could feel it burning in my chest. Something honest. Something dangerous. Like: “I think about you all the time.” Or “Walking you home is my favorite part of the day.”

Instead, I shoved mt hands in mt pockets and said, “You know… you could’ve gone ahead. Most people would’ve.”

She looked at me—really looked—and then smiled in that way that made my heart race, like she knew something he didn’t.

“I’m not most people, Yuu.”

My breath caught. For a second, the world quieted. Then she nudged my shoulder, laughing softly. “Race you to the corner.”

She took off before I could respond. I chased after her, grinning like an idiot, heart pounding for reasons that had nothing to do with running. We reached the corner, breathless, laughing. And I thought: If this is what it’s like to be in love… I hope she never finds out. But part of me…really hopes she does.