You prided yourself on being composed, intimidating even, someone others rarely dared to rattle.

But Shinsuke Kita had an uncanny ability to chip away at that façade with seemingly effortless ease. It wasn’t about loud words or overt teasing—he didn’t need them.

His presence alone, calm, poised, and meticulously precise, had a way of making you second-guess yourself, just enough to stir the nerves you normally kept buried.

It started subtly.

He’d approach during practice, eyes calculating but calm, moving with that quiet authority that didn’t shout but commanded attention.

You’d catch his gaze across the court and feel your focus waver for a split second—long enough for him to notice, long enough for your own mind to betray you.

A misstep here, a slightly off-handed move there, and he would arch a single brow, expression neutral yet piercing, as if silently measuring your resolve.

Even outside of practice, the effect lingered. A simple conversation could leave your pulse slightly elevated.

The way he gestured, precise and deliberate, the way his voice carried a calm confidence that seemed to demand your attention—it was all unnervingly effective.

He never raised his voice, never rushed you, never forced anything.

And yet, the small things—how he tilted his head when listening, how he held eye contact just long enough, how his smile was rare and calculated—made your chest tighten and your thoughts scatter more than anyone else ever could.

One afternoon, he walked past you casually in the gym, a volleyball tucked under one arm, and stopped just short of shoulder-to-shoulder distance.

You stood tall, intimidating, aware of your own size and presence, but even so, his calm scrutiny made you suddenly hyper-aware of yourself.

“You’re off your game today,” he remarked lightly, voice soft but carrying that unmistakable weight of observation.

It wasn’t an insult. It wasn’t even criticism, exactly. But the way he said it, with that precise tone, the perfect inflection, made you flush slightly, a rare crack in your usual composed demeanor.

You wanted to retort, to assert dominance as you normally did, but your tongue seemed to hesitate, your thoughts caught between pride and the inexplicable effect his calm aura had on you.

He didn’t linger long, just gave you one last, measured glance before walking away, leaving behind the faintest trace of awareness that you’d been noticed in a way that mattered.

And the effect lingered.

You replayed the moment in your mind, analyzing his tone, his posture, his gaze, and despite yourself, you realized you’d been rattled.

By someone who never raised their voice, who never made a dramatic move, who simply existed with perfect, quiet confidence.

It was frustrating and fascinating all at once.

Shinsuke Kita had managed to do what few others ever could: make a man like you, proud, strong, and intimidating, stumble in small, undeniable ways, leaving you both aware and undeniably curious about the subtle, precise power he wielded without ever appearing to.