Kenma Kozume never really cared about watching practice matches. Too loud, too chaotic, too much movement all at once. But lately, his eyes couldn’t help but follow you, the cheerful, energetic underclassman who somehow turned every game into something brighter. You were good, really good, moving across the court with precision and confidence, yet still laughing every time you teased your teammates or missed a point.

He didn’t understand why his chest felt tight whenever you grinned, or why his focus drifted away from his phone just to watch you play. You were everything he wasn’t loud, social, full of energy and yet, the way you shone made him want to stay a little longer just to see it again.

When you caught him watching one day and waved, your smile wide and genuine, Kenma froze, pretending to look away. But even as he turned back to his phone, the corner of his lips lifted slightly. Maybe he was doomed from the start, because somehow, that bright, cheerful volleyball player had already spiked her way into his quiet heart.