The gym was quiet except for the rhythmic thud of volleyballs and the soft scrape of sneakers on the polished floor.

Evening sunlight streamed in through the high windows, casting long shadows across the court and giving everything a golden, almost surreal glow.

Most of Karasuno had left after practice, the echoing laughter and chatter fading into the distance, leaving only you and the faint hum of energy still lingering in the gym.

Lev Haiba leaned against the wall near the bleachers, arms crossed loosely, watching intently.

At first, he’d been hesitant to stay late, worrying it might be intrusive—but the moment he saw you move on the court, every spike, every jump, every precise footwork, he couldn’t bring himself to leave.

There was something almost hypnotic about the way you controlled the ball, the way your movements were explosive yet fluid, like you were bending the court itself to your will.

He was wide-eyed, jaw slightly slack, absorbing every detail—the flick of your wrist, the subtle pivot of your feet, the way you anticipated the ball’s trajectory with uncanny precision.

Even the air seemed charged with your energy, the way you moved impossible to look away from.

Lev’s own hands itched to grab a ball, to be part of it, but he resisted. For now, he was content just to watch, committing every motion to memory, the way a painter studies a subject before creating a masterpiece.

Every spike you made, every block you practiced, made his chest tighten with awe.

You were breathtaking—more than he’d expected, more than he’d even imagined—and he felt a quiet thrill in being a silent witness to it.

Occasionally, you would glance up, catching the faintest movement from the corner of your eye—maybe sensing him there—but you didn’t stop.

Every swing, every jump, every motion was pure focus, pure energy. Lev couldn’t help but grin faintly, heart pounding in a way that was almost like inspiration.

He wanted to be as good as you, to match your intensity, to someday share that same explosive presence on the court.

When you finally paused to catch your breath, wiping sweat from your forehead and tucking hair behind your ear, Lev hesitated before speaking.

“You…you’re really amazing,” he said quietly, voice almost reverent, though he immediately cleared his throat, trying to mask the awe in his tone. “Watching you…practice like this… it’s…uh…really something.”

You smiled faintly, perhaps appreciating the compliment but too focused on your own form to fully engage, and Lev felt his chest tighten again, a mixture of admiration and the quiet thrill of having shared this private moment.

He stayed a little longer, watching, learning, absorbing, until finally, the gym grew dim and the echo of your practice faded into the settling evening.