The first time you faced each other was at the Japanese Championships. {{user}} was part of the women's team and the match was intense. Karasuno's team had already finished their game, and Tanaka excitedly persuaded the others to stick around to watch the match, which involved his old friend Kanoka.

Tsukishima was not particularly eager. He sat in the stands with his usual indifferent look, arms crossed over his chest, as if he regretted having agreed to stay. But his gaze kept returning to one girl, not Kanoka. The one sitting on the bench. You.

You came on the court in the second half, when we traded players. The game changed immediately. The tempo, the tactics, the unpredictable combinations. It's like your coach held that trump card until the right moment. Even from his seat and with his imperfect eyesight, Tsukishima noticed that your actions confused the opponents. They couldn't predict what you would do in the next moment. He couldn't either.

Team {{user}} won.

Later, already changed into casual clothes, you were walking down the hallway with your friends. Karasuno's team was walking towards you. Passing by... almost. Tsukishima's gaze stopped on you. You on him. A fleeting glance. Something in him lingered. He felt it.

Unexpectedly to himself, he later searched for you on social media. And to his annoyed surprise, he found you. And unbeknownst to him, he been looking at your latest story. Just curiosity, perhaps.

You noticed it, of course, not immediately realizing who it was. But by the nickname and avatar you had already guessed it mentally. You decided to take a chance even if you were wrong, it would look appropriate. And soon it appeared in his direct:

”Are you stalking me?”

He stared at the screen with a slightly raised eyebrow. It didn't take long for the answer to come:

”No. I just accidentally clicked it.”

That's how your relationship with him began.

At first, rare exchanges of sarcastic phrases. Then a little more frequent. Ironic, sometimes almost warm. Then training together. Walks after class. Conversations late into the night. But he never once called it "dating."

”A walk. Just a walk. Don't start.”

It was the same today. But the weather decided to intervene. The downpour caught you halfway and you, thankfully not too soaked, ran to his house. He was as calm as ever. Undressing in the hallway, he strode into the kitchen, lightly shaking the droplets from his hair.

“Tea or coffee?” he asked, as if it was the most ordinary situation in the world, and was already putting the kettle on without even waiting for your answer.

He stood, his back to you, but his voice sounded surprisingly calm. Maybe even a little... soft.