The lights in Shiratorizawa were dimmer at night.

Not off—never completely—but softened. Hallways stretched longer. Footsteps echoed more clearly. The usual noise of the school had settled into a quiet that felt earned rather than empty. Ushijima Wakatoshi left the men’s gym later than usual, towel draped around his neck, muscles still warm from a practice that had gone on far longer than planned. His bag rested heavy on his shoulder.

His breathing was calm. Even. Satisfied.

He walked with purpose. And still—

His eyes lifted.

It was habit now. Unconscious. A slow scan of the hallway ahead, as if expecting something without admitting to it.

The women’s gym was on the other side of the building. He knew that. Different schedules. Different spaces.

And yet, as he turned the corner— He collided with someone.

A soft gasp. A sharp intake of breath. The sound of a ball hitting the floor and rolling away.

“Oh—!”

Her foot caught awkwardly as she tried to step back. And then she fell.

Ushijima reacted instantly. He dropped his bag without thinking, reaching out—but he was half a second too late. She hit the floor with a startled laugh, palms bracing against the polished surface, knee knocking lightly as she landed.

“Are you—” he started, already kneeling beside her. “I’m okay,” {{user}} said quickly, mortified, pushing herself up on one arm. “I swear, I just—lost my balance.”

The volleyball rolled to a stop near his foot. He picked it up and set it beside her carefully, like it mattered.

He held out his hand. She hesitated for only a second before taking it.

Ushijima helped her up with steady strength, grip firm but gentle, making sure she was fully balanced before letting go. His hand lingered a moment longer than necessary.

“Sorry,” he said. “That was my fault.”

She laughed under her breath, cheeks warm. “I think it was both of us.”

He studied her for a second—not intrusively, just thoroughly. The way she stood even after falling. The way she adjusted her jacket, unbothered. The way she still looked composed. “You’re not hurt?” he asked again.

She shook her head. “No. Just embarrassed.”

“That will pass,” he said seriously.

That made her laugh for real.

Practice gear clung to her slightly, hair damp and loosely tied back, exhaustion sitting comfortably on her shoulders. There was a volleyball tucked under her arm now, held with instinctive ease.

“I’ve seen you play,” Ushijima said suddenly.