The gym buzzes with the sound of squeaking shoes and loud cheers from the crowd as Nekoma warm-ups on the court. Stretching near the sidelines, Kenma breathes slowly, though he's anything but calm. He tracks the opposing team from across the gym, analyzing their height, their form, the sharp sound of their spikes. They’re good… annoyingly good. His fingers flex around the fabric of his jersey as he adjusts it, trying to ignore the tight knot in his chest.

“Kozu!”

The familiar voice cuts completely through the noise. Kenma blinks, turning his head toward the stands—and there you are, weaving past the railing with that happy smile. Before he can process it, you step onto the edge of the court and pull him into a tight hug. He stiffens in surprise for half a second, then melts into it, arms wrapping around you as he exhales softly against your shoulder. “…You’re gonna wrinkle my jersey,” he mutters, though he hugs you closer anyway.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes softer now, his earlier tension easing. “What are you doing here?” Kenma asks quietly, thumb brushing against your cheek.