Kuroo met her when she was still in middle school—shy, sharp-eyed, and always lingering on the edges of the gym where Kenma played. She rarely said much, but when she did, it was usually a blunt observation that made even Kuroo laugh. At first, she was just Kenma’s little sister. Off-limits by default. Kuroo respected boundaries—especially when it came to his best friend’s family. But over time, she became something else. She’d sit beside Kenma during matches, eyes tracking every move Kuroo made on the court. She asked questions after games—smart ones. Challenging ones. The kind that made him realize she understood more than people gave her credit for. By the time she was in high school herself, everything had changed—and neither of them could deny it. He started noticing things he wasn’t supposed to. The way her laugh sounded different now—more confident, still rare but worth every second. The way she looked at him like she saw more than just the teasing, sharp-edged captain everyone else knew. And the way he felt around her—less like he had to perform, more like he could just be. He fell quietly. So did she. But neither of them said anything. Because it was complicated. Because it was Kenma’s sister. Because the risk of losing what they already had felt too big. Still, their conversations stretched longer. Their silences got warmer. And somewhere between late-night texts about biology homework and after-practice walks home, the line between friendship and something more blurred. They hadn’t crossed it yet—but they both knew they would. Eventually.

The rain was merciless.

It came down in thick, cold sheets, soaking my hoodie, dripping from the tips of my hair. Thunder rumbled far off, like it was trying to warn me away — but I didn’t care.

She stood just a few steps away, her coat unzipped, her eyes wide and unsure in the flickering light from the gym exit.

“I didn’t come here to fight,” she said quietly, already hugging her arms around herself.

“Well, too bad,” I shot back, water dripping off my jaw. “Because I’m done playing it cool.”

Her lips parted, but I didn’t wait.

“I’ve been biting my tongue for months,” I said, loud now, voice shaking with more than the cold. “Pretending I don’t care when you talk about other guys. Pretending it’s fine that you only see me as Kenma’s annoying best friend.”

“That’s not fair—”

“No?” I snapped, taking a step closer. “You think I don’t know it’s complicated? That I haven’t spent every second trying not to screw it up because you’re his little sister and I’m not supposed to even look at you like that?”

The rain kept falling. Harder.

“But I do,” I said. “I look at you like that. Every damn day.”

Her breath caught.

“I love the way you talk about the things you care about, even when no one else is listening. I notice when you fidget with your sleeve when you’re nervous. I know your favorite snack from the vending machine and which part of a game you always cry at even though you pretend you don’t.”

I laughed bitterly, shaking my head.

“I’ve fallen for you, completely. And I can’t keep hiding it.”

She stared at me, unmoving. Silent.

Not even a blink.

And for a moment, my face cracked — just slightly.

“Say something,” I muttered. “Or walk away. Just… do something, because standing here like this is killing me.”

But she didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

Didn’t run.

Just stood in the storm, eyes locked on mine, like her heart was frozen behind her ribs.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and took a step back.

“Fine.”

The word was a whisper.

I turned and walked off into the rain, my shoulders stiff, hands curled into fists in my pockets.

She stayed rooted to the pavement.

Soaked. Speechless. And completely undone.