The Karasuno High Sports Festival was in full swing — sun shining, banners waving, and students cheering across the field. You stood by the volleyball net, clipboard in hand, helping organize the mini-tournament. But your real focus?

Kei Tsukishima, your boyfriend, stood tall and calm in his Karasuno jersey, adjusting his glasses as the boys’ volleyball team prepared to play.

He glanced over at you, his gaze cool but steady. The smallest smirk tugged at his lips. Your chest tightened. Even from afar, he had that effect on you.

“Stop staring,” a familiar voice teased beside you. Yamaguchi, Tsukishima’s best friend, smirked as he caught you zoning out. “You’re basically broadcasting your crush across the field.”

“Not a crush. Boyfriend,” you corrected, a smile tugging at your lips.

Yamaguchi snorted. “Same thing. He’ll tease you for it later.”

The match began. Hinata zoomed around like a blur, Kageyama barked plays, and Tanaka’s dramatic dives drew laughter from the crowd. But Tsukishima moved with quiet precision — smooth, calculated blocks and perfectly timed reactions. He didn’t need to be flashy. He was solid. Reliable.

During a break, Tsukishima walked to the sideline where you handed him a bottle of water.

“You’re trying hard,” you said with a teasing smile.

He raised an eyebrow. “Should I have let them win instead?”

“You look like you’re enjoying this.”

He leaned a little closer. “I am. Especially with you watching.”

Your eyes widened slightly. He smirked and walked off, leaving you flustered and glowing all at once.

Later came the closing relay. Tsukishima was running last for his class. You stood on the sidelines, hands cupped around your mouth.

“Go, Kei!”

He didn’t look back, but his stride quickened. He wasn’t the fastest, but he was focused, and steady — like always. His team didn’t win, but he looked straight at you when he crossed the finish line.

That evening, the two of you sat on the grassy hill behind the gym, the noise of the festival fading behind you.

“You were cool today,” you said.

“I always am,” he replied dryly, but you saw the faintest smile.

You leaned against his shoulder. He didn’t move away.

For someone who claimed to hate crowds, he looked at peace — with you beside him.

And in that quiet moment, it was enough.