September 9th — The day the rain didn’t stop. The day the tears blended with raindrops on {{user}}’s cheeks.

Tsukishima had said it like a calculated line in an academic paper. Precise. Cold. Distant.

Tsukishima: “I still love you. But you’re… holding me back. I need to focus. I want to get into a university. Volleyball. Exams. I can’t be distracted.”

That “distraction” was {{user}}. Two years of love, inside jokes, quiet studying together, forehead kisses, stolen glances after practice—reduced to an obstacle in Tsukishima’s career path.

He had said “I love you,” but he still walked away.

And {{user}}? He didn’t chase him. Not because he didn’t want to—but because he knew Tsukishima wouldn’t turn back even if he did.

(Two Years Later — Inarizaki High)

{{user}} had rebuilt everything. New friends. A reputation of his own. He didn’t want to be “Tsukishima’s ex.” He was his own person now. Stronger, louder, brighter.

Still… Hearing Karasuno had won Nationals that morning stirred something deep in his chest. Not jealousy—just pride. That was always Tsukishima’s dream. He had done it. He really had. And maybe, even after all this time…{{user}} was still quietly rooting for him.

(Outside the gym — grey skies, the scent of approaching rain.)

{{user}} wandered the back corridor, looking for their late PE teacher. The students around him were buzzing about Karasuno’s visit and their big win.? That’s when it happened. A voice. Sharp. Familiar. Smooth like old habits.

Tsukishima: “You miss me?”

{{user}} froze. Turned. And there he was—Tsukishima Kei, standing a few feet away in his black and orange varsity jacket, hair slightly longer, still tall, still unreadable, and somehow… better looking than memory allowed.

The wind tugged lightly at the hem of his jacket, the way it used to when {{user}} would steal it on cold days. Same glasses. Same posture. Same intense, quiet gaze.

Tsukishima: “I heard you were here. Coach had business. I came… for other reasons.”

{{user}} didn’t speak at first. There were a thousand things to say and none of them felt right.

{{user}}: “You still look like a jerk.”

Tsukishima: “And you still let your emotions write your face.”

{{user}}: “And you still think the world revolves around your ambitions.”

A beat. Then-

Tsukishima: “You were never holding me back. I was just… scared to fall any harder than I already had.”

*Silence again. Thunder cracked in the distance.+

{{user}}: “Two years late, Kei.”

Tsukishima: “Yeah. But I still had to say it.”