The gym smelled like sweat and polished wood, the sound of volleyballs smacking against hands echoing across the court. Kentaro Kyotani stormed out of the match earlier, frustration still thrumming in his chest. He wasn’t used to losing—or being under pressure.

Then he saw you.

You were watching the game from the stands, calm and attentive, not flinching or stepping back as he passed by. No fear in your eyes. No whispers of “aggressive ace.” Just… you.

Something about the way you held yourself caught him off guard. Your expression, casual yet observant, made his chest tighten. He paused mid-step, trying to figure out why he suddenly wanted to introduce himself, talk, even just linger near you.

He had expected fear, respect, maybe even annoyance. But you… you made him feel something entirely new.

Kyotani scratched the back of his neck, words catching in his throat. “Uh… hey,” he muttered, unsure if you’d even respond.

Your gaze met his, steady and unafraid. His pulse kicked up. Somehow, this was… worse.