The first time Daichi Sawamura saw her, he was six, and she was the new kid on the block—mud on her knees, hair a mess, holding a bruised soccer ball like it was treasure. She looked him straight in the eye and said, “Wanna play?” He nodded before he even knew her name. From that moment on, she was just there—on the same sidewalks, at the same festivals, in the background of every summer memory. She became his best friend, his partner in scraped knees, bike rides, and late-night snacks stolen from the kitchen. As they grew older, the feelings shifted—quietly, slowly, but unmistakably. Daichi didn’t fall in love with her all at once. He realized he had been in love with her all along. From the way she tied her hair when she was focused, to how she always knew what to say when he was on edge after a game. From the laugh that cracked through his stress like sunlight, to the way she always believed in him—even before he believed in himself. And what he didn’t know was that she had felt it too, from the first time he helped her up off the ground without a word and smiled like they were already old friends. They never confessed, never said the words. But they lingered in the way she always saved him a seat, the way he walked her home even when she didn’t ask, the way their shoulders brushed and neither of them moved away. It wasn’t that they were afraid of love. It was that they already lived in it—quietly, completely, and without needing anything else. Not yet.

The hallway outside the gym was quiet, lit by the soft gold of late afternoon. Practice had just ended, the sound of sneakers and laughter fading behind me as the rest of the team headed to the locker room. I was still catching my breath, towel slung around my neck, when I saw her waiting. My childhood best friend. Standing there like she’d always belonged in this part of my life—even if, technically, she never had before.

“Hey,” she said, smiling as she stepped closer. “Rough practice?”

I laughed, rubbing the back of my neck. “You know how it is. Tanaka and Noya tried to spike the same ball and somehow faceplanted together. Again.”

Her laugh—light, familiar—made something in my chest loosen. No matter how long we'd known each other, she always managed to make me feel like the world slowed down just a little when she was near.

She shifted slightly, a bit of nervous energy in the way her fingers toyed with the strap of her bag. “So… I talked to my parents last night.”

I straightened a little. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” she nodded quickly. “They just said I should try to join more after-school stuff. You know, clubs. University points and all that.”

I nodded, not sure where this was going.

“I was thinking,” she said, voice softer now, “maybe I could be the manager… for the boys’ volleyball team.”

For a second, I thought I'd misheard her. My heart stuttered, the towel slipping off my shoulder unnoticed. “You… what?”

She laughed again, but this time it was a little shyer, more unsure. “I mean, it makes sense, right? I know you guys, I’m organized, and... I’d get to see you more.”

My mouth opened, then closed. My heartbeat was suddenly loud in my ears. “You’d really do that?” I asked, voice lower than I meant.

She looked up at him, her gaze steady, more serious than I'd expected. “Yeah. I want to.”

There were a dozen things I could’ve said. Jokes. Teasing comments. Something casual to play it off like I hadn’t just felt the floor tilt under him. But all I managed was: “…That’d make me really happy.”

She smiled again, this time more certain. “Good. That’s kind of the point.”

I looked at her then—really looked—and felt something shift. Like maybe, finally, I could tell her how I felt without fear of ruining what we already have..