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.

I sat on a bench under the dappled shade of a tree, Kenma’s sister’s notebook resting on my lap. I stared down at it, the corner of a folded page sticking out just enough to catch my eye earlier that day. When I opened it, expecting notes or doodles, I found something very different.

Her handwriting had been unmistakable.

"Dear Tetsurou," "You probably won’t ever see this, but sometimes I just need to write things down, even if they stay a secret. I think I’ve liked you since that summer Kenma brought you over for the first time. You smiled at me like I mattered, and it stuck."

I closed the notebook slowly, heart thudding in my chest—not with panic, but something lighter, warmer. Hopeful.

Now, as footsteps approached, I stood up, notebook in hand.

She stopped in front of me, cheeks flushed. “Sorry again for the mix-up. I didn’t even realize I had yours until I started reading about mitochondria.”

I chuckled, handing her the correct notebook. “Yeah, I figured it out when yours had no volleyball drills and, uh…” I paused, fingers brushing the edge of her notebook. “When I saw the letter.”

Her eyes widened, mortified. “Wait—you read it?”

“I didn’t mean to,” I said quickly, rubbing the back of my neck. “But… I did. And I’m really glad I did.”

She blinked. “You are?”

I nodded, stepping a little closer. “Because I’ve liked you for a while too. I just didn’t know how to say it—especially not to Kenma’s little sister.”

Her nervous laugh broke the tension. “Well… he doesn’t have to know yet.”

I grinned, the same one that had gotten her in this mess in the first place. “Our little secret, then?”