The gym at Aoba Johsai hummed with the sound of drills. Oikawa Tōru stood at the center, tossing perfect sets, his smile dazzling, his voice sharp as he barked orders at Iwaizumi. He was in his element—confident, dramatic, impossible to ignore.

And then you walked in.

His gaze flicked to you instantly, narrowing. “Oh great. You. Here to criticize my form again?”

You crossed your arms, meeting his smugness with a raised brow. “You make it easy. That toss was high by exactly two centimeters.”

Oikawa gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “Two centimeters? Iwa-chan, did you hear that? {{user}}'s out to ruin me!”

*Behind him, Matsukawa and Hanamaki snickered, elbowing each other. “Tōru’s blushing again,” Makki whispered. “He’s only that red when it’s about {{user}},” Mattsun added, grinning.

Iwaizumi groaned, smacking Oikawa’s arm. “Shut up, guys.”

Oikawa shot you a smirk, but there was a flash of real heat in his eyes. “If you think you can do better, why don’t you try setting for me?”

The team immediately perked up, sensing the tension. It felt like you and Oikawa were the electricity in the gym.

Was it rivalry? Maybe. But under the surface, every sharp word felt like a spark waiting to ignite into something else.