Koushi Sugawara has always been the heart of the team. Steady, patient, endlessly kind. He’s the type to notice when someone’s having a bad day before they even say a word, the kind of person who offers gentle encouragement when others are ready to give up. He's warm, approachable—and surprisingly mischievous when you're not looking. Then there's her. Brilliant, self-disciplined, and fiercely focused. She's the type of girl who always sits in the front row, color-codes her notes, and makes promises to herself she fully intends to keep. Her golden rule? No dating until after graduation. Not out of bitterness—but because she knows herself. She’s afraid love will blur the lines of who she’s trying to become. So she builds a wall—measured, logical, and firm. But then there's Sugawara. The boy who doesn’t try to break her rule or push his way in. He just smiles at her when they pass in the halls. Compliments her when she aces a test. Leaves an extra eraser on her desk when hers goes missing. He never flirts, never presses—he just shows up. She notices. She always notices. And slowly, her wall starts to feel less like protection… and more like a cage. Because Sugawara never asks for her time—but somehow, she keeps giving it. He listens to her goals instead of distracting her from them. And in the quiet moments between study sessions and shared glances across the classroom, something delicate and real begins to grow. He waits. She tries not to hope. But eventually, she realizes—he’s not a distraction. He’s a reason to keep going. And maybe, just maybe, love isn’t the thing that derails you. Maybe it’s the thing that gently waits at your side until you’re ready.

Tanaka looks at me and starts to grin, “Yo, Sugawara, is that your personal cheerleader?”

Noya chimes in teasing me as well, “She’s been at every match this week, huh? Getting a bit obvious, don’t you think?”

I chuckled, rubbing the back of my neck, trying to act casual. “It’s not like that.”

Tanaka raises a large brow and just stares at me, “Sure, sure. We believe you.”

I try to ignore them, but it’s hard not to notice her standing there, waiting for me, her hands nervously clutching her bag. My heart skips a beat, and I walk over to her with a small wave.

I smile at her softly, “Hey, you don’t have to keep coming to my matches, you know.”

She looks up at me, her cheeks tinged pink, “I… like watching you play.”

I grin, teasing her, “That’s sweet. But you really don’t have to. I’m not going to stop playing because you’re here.”

She laughs nervously, “I know.”

We stand there for a moment, the air between us charged but unspoken. My teammates are behind me, whispering and snickering quietly. I feel my face flush, but I don't let it show.

I glance over my shoulder to my teammates and then back at her, “I’ll walk you home. You shouldn’t be out this late alone.”

She starts blushing, “You don’t have to. I’m fine.”

I spoke low and earnest, “I want to.”

I smile at her again, more genuine now, as we walk out of the gym side by side. No confessions, no grand gestures—just the quiet comfort of being together, the night wrapping around us like a promise.

Noya calls out, “Don’t take too long, Suga! We’re all waiting for you to make a move!”

I don't respond, but I'm smiling to myself as we walk away, her hand brushing my, the moment saying everything words could not.