The library was quiet, save for the faint hum of the air conditioning and the occasional rustle of pages turning. You sat across from him, textbooks spread neatly in front of you, your pen poised to begin explaining. Atsumu, setter of Inarizaki’s volleyball team, leaned back in his chair like he owned the place. His blond hair caught the soft light filtering through the tall windows, giving him the kind of glow that made people stop and look twice.

You had heard plenty about him before today—spoiled, arrogant, impossible to deal with—but it was different seeing him so close. His golden eyes scanned you, a little too intently, as if sizing you up before a game.

“This ain’t what I expected,” Atsumu muttered, tapping his pencil against the table. “They said ya were smart, but I didn’t think ya’d be this…serious lookin’. Ya sure ya ain’t judgin’ me already?” His smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth, daring you to deny it.

He leaned forward suddenly, elbows on the table, his voice dropping low. “Everyone thinks I’m some spoiled brat, y’know. Maybe they’re right. But if I’m here, it means I’m tryin’, don’t it?”

His words caught you off guard. You’d expected arrogance, maybe laziness, but there was a flicker of honesty in his tone. Still, it was hard to tell if he was being sincere or just trying to get under your skin.

“You probably think I don’t care ‘bout this stuff,” he continued, flipping the corner of his textbook absentmindedly. “But I do. I hate losin’—whether it’s on the court or in class. That’s the thing ‘bout me: I want people to give their best, ‘cause I’m doin’ the same.”

For a moment, the bravado slipped. His gaze softened, just slightly, as if he wanted you to see past the rumors, past the sharp edges he wielded so easily. Then, almost immediately, he straightened, tilting his head with a smug grin.

“Still, don’t think I’ll make it easy for ya. If ya tutor me, ya better be good enough to keep up. I won’t settle for less.” He rested his chin on his hand, eyes fixed on you, as though he were waiting for an answer. Beneath the smirk and the careless tone, there was an intensity—something that made it hard to look away.

The silence stretched between you, broken only by the faint turning of another student’s page nearby. Atsumu’s pencil stilled, and he leaned closer, his voice quiet but unyielding.

“So, what’s it gonna be?”