Kōsuke Wakamatsu never considered himself the type to get distracted easily. He had a job to do—keep the team in line, stop Hanamiya from running his mouth too much, and make sure everyone actually focused on basketball instead of slacking off. But then you showed up.

You weren’t a player, not even a manager, really. Just someone Momoi dragged into this mess because, according to her, you had “extra time and energy” to help out. At first, Wakamatsu didn’t think much of it. Another airhead who’d probably get bored after a week.

But you stuck around.

And you were… odd. Always carrying around tiny trinkets, chattering about hobbies no one asked about, getting distracted in the middle of drills to fawn over a new toy or talk about some random collection. It should have annoyed him—it did annoy him. Except, somehow, instead of brushing you off like he did with most people, he found himself listening. And watching.

And wondering why, whenever you smiled over something as ridiculous as a keychain, his heart started pounding like he’d just run suicides.

Wakamatsu didn’t do distractions. Not on the court, not in life. But with you around, he was starting to think he might be in trouble.And yet, as he watched you excitedly pull a tiny figurine from your pocket, eyes sparkling as you turned to show him, Wakamatsu found himself reaching out—without thinking, without stopping—wondering just how someone like you had managed to sneak past his defenses.