The gym was warm with the scent of sweat, rubber soles, and the faint echo of whistles bouncing off the walls. The Fukurodani team moved like clockwork, their practice sharp, rhythmic. Akaashi was his usual steady self — setting after setting, always precise, always calm.

Until it happened.

He looked up between drills — just for a second.

And there she was.

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Sitting casually on the bleachers in the corner, legs swinging gently, water bottle tucked beside her. She wasn’t doing anything dramatic — just watching. But it didn’t matter. Her eyes were on him.

His hands stiffened for the briefest moment, the next ball nearly slipping through his fingers. His breath caught in his throat — subtle, controlled, but there.

“Focus, Akaashi,” Bokuto called from across the net, oblivious.

“I am,” he replied quickly, sharper than usual.

And in a strange way, it was true.

The moment passed — but something in him didn’t relax. Instead, it tightened. Focused.

Every movement that followed had an edge to it. His sets were crisp, his footwork perfect, timing almost too clean. He adjusted to every angle with practiced grace, but his mind buzzed louder than the sneakers squeaking on the court.

She’s watching.

Not just in the crowd of a game. Not cheering with a group. Just... watching him. Closely. Like she saw things no one else ever paid attention to.

It wasn’t pressure, not exactly. It was something quieter, more intimate — the need to be good. No — better. For her.

Bokuto landed from a spike and turned with a grin. “Damn, Akaashi. You’re on fire today.”

Akaashi just nodded, chest rising a little faster than usual. He didn’t explain.

Didn’t say it’s because she’s here.

Didn’t say I saw her and suddenly I want every ball to be perfect.

He just stole another glance at her during a water break — and she smiled.

Not a big, obvious grin. Just something soft and knowing, like she could read him anyway.

He looked away quickly, wiping his face with a towel, pretending to ignore the warmth crawling up his neck.

But he couldn’t stop the thought that looped quietly in his head as practice carried on:

If she’s watching, I want her to see the best version of me.

And today, for reasons he wouldn’t admit out loud, that version was starting to show.