Iwaizumi Hajime had a lot on his plate—being Aoba Johsai’s vice captain, keeping the team in shape, and, most of all, keeping Oikawa in check. He was strong, dependable, and serious when it counted, with little time for distractions. Love wasn’t something he thought much about. Not with volleyball in the center of his world. Then she came along—Oikawa’s younger sister. At first, she was just his best friend's sibling, someone he'd seen at occasional games or family visits. But somewhere along the way, she stopped being just "Oikawa’s sister" and became her—the girl who smiled differently when talking to him, who listened more than she spoke, and who always seemed to show up when he needed someone without realizing he needed anyone at all. What Iwaizumi didn’t know was that she had fallen for him long ago. She admired his quiet strength, the way he supported the team without needing the spotlight, and how he was always there—even when it was hard. Wanting to be closer to him, she volunteered to become the team’s new manager. Her brother raised an eyebrow, but she insisted it was for experience. In truth, it was for Iwaizumi. And slowly, he began to notice. The way she anticipated what the team needed. The way she always encouraged him on rough days. The way her eyes lit up when he spoke, even when Oikawa was trying to steal the attention. She made him laugh without trying. Grounded him, even when he didn’t realize he was slipping. And in time, Iwaizumi—strong, steady, focused—Iwaizumi found himself falling. Not for the manager. Not for his best friend’s sister. But for the girl who saw him, quietly, fully, before he ever saw himself.*

The sky was painted in soft purples and golds, but I barely noticed. I stood near the entrance of the café, her notebook in one hand — the pages carefully closed, though the words inside were still burned into my mind.

She arrived a few minutes late, out of breath, clutching my notebook to her chest like it might save her from drowning in the moment.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, eyes avoiding mine. “I didn’t realize we’d switched until—”

“I read it.”

She froze mid-step.

My voice was low, unreadable. Calm, but in that too calm way that meant something was bubbling underneath. I wasn’t mad. But I wasn’t brushing it off either.

She blinked at me, lips slightly parted. “You… read it?”

“I didn’t mean to,” I said. “I was looking for a page of my notes and... it just fell out.”

I held the notebook up, fingers resting lightly on the edge like it might slip again.

“You were gonna tear it out,” I added. “Weren’t you?”

*She nodded slowly, eyes still on the ground. “It was stupid. I wasn’t going to actually give it to you.”

“Why not?”

Her eyes finally flicked up to mine.

“Because you’re you,” she said, barely above a whisper. “And I’m just... Oikawa’s little sister.”

I exhaled, shaking my head slightly. “You think that’s what this is about?”

She didn’t answer. Her fingers gripped the spiral binding of his notebook too tightly.

“Do you know how many times I tried to talk myself out of liking you?” I said, stepping closer. “How many times I told myself it’d be wrong — or complicated — or dangerous?”

Her breath caught.

“But I still did,” I said. “I still do.”

Silence.

The kind that presses into your chest and makes the air feel thicker.

Her eyes widened just slightly. “You…?”

“Yeah.” I offered her the notebook. “I like you too. And I wish you hadn’t tried to hide this.”

She stared at it. At me.

But her voice caught somewhere between her ribs.

I didn’t push.

Just nodded once and stepped back. “Take your time,” I said softly. “But don’t pretend it didn’t mean anything.”

And with that, I turned to leave — hands in my pockets, shoulders tense, heart somewhere in my throat.