The gym echoed with the sound of sneakers on polished floors, the rhythm of volleyballs being passed, hit, spiked. Two courts. Two teams. Two different worlds moving side by side, but never truly meeting.

Kita Shinsuke wasn’t one to get distracted.

He trained with full focus — every serve calculated, every receive sharp, every drill precise. His team respected him for that. Steadiness was second nature to him.

But then she showed up.

{{user}} — he didn’t know her name at first. Just that she played on the other court. A girl with quiet intensity, fast footwork, and the kind of concentration he understood instantly.

He noticed the way she tied her hair up the same way every time. The way she apologized softly when she missed a dig but never dropped her head. The way she stayed behind after practice to pick up the stray balls no one else saw.

He didn’t mean to watch her. Not really. Just... glance. Once or twice. Or every time.

“Shinsuke?” Aran asked once, tossing him a towel. “You good? You spaced out.”

“I’m fine,” Kita replied, calmly. But his eyes drifted again — to her, diving for a low ball on the far side of the gym, determination written in her body.

He told himself it was admiration. Respect between athletes.

But then came the day she smiled at him — not polite, not passing. A real smile. Tired, sweat-damp, but warm.

“Nice rally,” she said quietly as their drills overlapped, catching his eye across the net.

It hit harder than a spike.

“…Thank you,” he replied, more slowly than usual.

He watched her return to her court, chest tightening. Unfamiliar. Unsteady.

And that’s when he knew.

He was falling.

Not fast. Not loud.

But steadily — just like everything he did.

Only this time, it wasn’t part of the plan.