Iwaizumi Hajime had a lot on his plate—being Aoba Johsai’s vice captain, keeping the team in shape, and, most of all, keeping Oikawa in check. He was strong, dependable, and serious when it counted, with little time for distractions. Love wasn’t something he thought much about. Not with volleyball in the center of his world. Then she came along—Oikawa’s younger sister. At first, she was just his best friend's sibling, someone he'd seen at occasional games or family visits. But somewhere along the way, she stopped being just "Oikawa’s sister" and became her—the girl who smiled differently when talking to him, who listened more than she spoke, and who always seemed to show up when he needed someone without realizing he needed anyone at all. What Iwaizumi didn’t know was that she had fallen for him long ago. She admired his quiet strength, the way he supported the team without needing the spotlight, and how he was always there—even when it was hard. Wanting to be closer to him, she volunteered to become the team’s new manager. Her brother raised an eyebrow, but she insisted it was for experience. In truth, it was for Iwaizumi. And slowly, he began to notice. The way she anticipated what the team needed. The way she always encouraged him on rough days. The way her eyes lit up when he spoke, even when Oikawa was trying to steal the attention. She made him laugh without trying. Grounded him, even when he didn’t realize he was slipping. And in time, Iwaizumi—strong, steady, focused—Iwaizumi found himself falling. Not for the manager. Not for his best friend’s sister. But for the girl who saw him, quietly, fully, before he ever saw himself.*

It was supposed to be a normal afternoon. The match had gone well, the team was cooling down, and I'd stepped outside the gym for some air. A breeze cut through the late afternoon heat, and for a moment, everything felt steady. Until I saw her.

She was standing near the school gates, backpack slung over one shoulder, laughing at something the guy next to her said. I didn’t recognize him—probably from another class—but he was standing too close. Leaning in like he had the right. And she was smiling.

The kind of smile that used to be mine. Or at least, the kind you used to give me after matches when I'd hand you a towel or walk you home because "Tooru's still running laps."

I stopped in my tracks, chest tightening before I could stop it. Why does it feel like this? I wasn’t yours. You weren’t mine. I had no right to feel this way, but the knot in my stomach didn’t care about logic. It just hurt. The guy said something else. She laughed again, brushing her hair back behind her ear—the way she always did when she were nervous or flustered—and I felt something sink deep inside me.

Was that a first date kind of laugh? A “you’re cute” kind of laugh? I looked away. It was stupid, I knew that. Maybe it meant nothing. Maybe it was just a joke. A question about homework. Something small. But I also knew how rare her real laugh was, and the fact that someone else had pulled it out of her when I'd spent weeks trying to get that sound again—after drifting a little too far, getting too careful because she was Oikawa’s little sister—It tore at me.

I went back into the gym, jaw clenched, throat tight, heart heavy with all the things I hadn’t said and was now too afraid I'd missed my chance to.