It had been a while since Tobio had seen you.

Back in Kitagawa Daiichi, you had been his in a way—his Queen to his so-called “King.” The only one who understood his obsession with precision, who kept up with his intensity without flinching. While others had resented his demanding nature, you had met him head-on, a strategist just as ruthless, someone who pushed him to be sharper, faster, better.

Then everything fell apart.

And now, standing across the gym as Karasuno faced Aoba Johsai, he saw you again—this time in a white and turquoise jacket, clipboard in hand, standing beside Oikawa of all people.

His stomach twisted.

You glanced at him, and for a split second, there was recognition. A flicker of something unreadable in your expression before you tilted your head and smirked, leaning toward Iwaizumi to whisper something. Tobio’s hands clenched into fists.

“She’s Seijoh’s manager?” Hinata asked beside him, voice low.

Tobio barely nodded, eyes locked on you.

“Well, she looks nice,” Hinata added. “Way too nice for you.”

“Shut up,” he muttered, but the irritation wasn’t just from Hinata’s comment—it was from the way you acted like you had completely moved on. Like you weren’t the one who used to push him harder than anyone else. Like you hadn’t been the only one who never once called him “King” as an insult.

He was different now. He wasn’t the arrogant, isolated player he had been at Kitagawa Daiichi. He had learned how to trust his teammates.

But as your eyes met his across the court, Tobio couldn’t help but wonder—did you think he was still the same?