Actions

Work Header

Game On (UkaixReader)

Summary:

You and Ukai were once inseparable - until a bitter misunderstanding in high school turned you into sworn enemies.

What then started as petty pranks and a constant battle to outdo each other in volleyball finally ended with you leaving Japan after graduation to pursue your volleyball career as far away from him as possible.

Now eight years later, after a career-ending injury forced you to step away from the game, you return to Japan as the head coach of Nekoma's boys' volleyball team. But when a friendly match pits your team against Karasuno, you come face-to-face with none other than Ukai-your old rival and ennemy, now coaching on the other side of the net.

Both more determined than ever to prove your team is superior, you throw yourselves back into the rivalry. But as the tension between you escalates, old feelings and memories resurface with it, forcing you both to confront your past. Will you finally settle the score, or will the game change everything?

Chapter 1: Back Home

Notes:

Because I think there aren't nearly enough stories about this gorgeous man, I took it upon myself to write one, enjoy <3 Also english is not my first language, so sorry in advance for grammar mistakes!

Chapter Text

The deep, resonant roar of the airplane engines surrounded you, a low and constant hum that seemed to vibrate through the cabin. It wasn't intrusive, though. Instead, it blended into the environment, a persistent reminder of where you were, high above the earth. The gentle turbulence of the plane's descent made your stomach do an involuntary flip, as if echoing the emotions simmering just below the surface.

You sat motionless, staring out through the oval-shaped window to your right. The cool plastic edge of the frame pressed against your elbow as you leaned in, seeking comfort in the view beyond. The glass was slightly scratched, but it still offered a perfect portal to the world outside. The soft blush of a fading sunset painted the horizon in hues of pink, orange, and violet, merging seamlessly into the deepening blue of the night sky. Tokyo sprawled beneath you, vast and glittering. The city lights sparkled like a field of scattered stars, stretching endlessly into the distance. It was breathtaking, and yet, it felt surreal—like a postcard from a life you had desperately tried to leave behind.

Eight years. That was how long it had been since you last called this place home. Eight years since you'd walked the polished wooden floors of your grandfather's gym, the scent of varnish and chalk thick in the air. Eight years since you'd played your last match of high school, the familiar sting of sweat dripping into your eyes as you spiked a volleyball with everything you had, the satisfying smack of your hand meeting leather echoing in the gymnasium. Eight years, since you'd last seen him.

As the plane dipped lower, the city's details grew sharper, more vivid. Roads crisscrossed like veins, cars inching along them like droplets of blood in motion. You could almost make out the shape of individual buildings now, the neon signs flashing their bold advertisements to the night. It was all so familiar, yet distant, like looking at a reflection that wasn't quite your own.

But even as the calm of the plane was grounding you from the growing ache in your stomach, your mind couldn't help but betray you.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but your volleyball career ends here."

The words hit you again, as devastating now as they had been the first time. Your heart clenched involuntarily, and your hands balled into fists on your lap. You forced yourself to breathe deeply, but the frustration clawed at your face, threatening to twist it into a scowl. Damn it. It was so unfair.

Months had passed since that day, but the memory remained sharp, like a blade that refused to dull. You could still picture the sterile office where it had all unraveled. The bright, clinical lighting had been almost too harsh, the room's white walls closing in on you as you sat there. The faint smell of antiseptic lingered in the air, mingling with the faint tang of your own nervous sweat. Across from you, the doctor had sat stiffly in his chair, his eyes scanning the reports in his hands. You remembered every detail: the slight crease in his brow, the faint crinkle of paper as he adjusted the sheets, the way your stomach had twisted tighter with each second of silence.

When he finally spoke, his voice had been calm, measured, but apologetic. "You've severely torn your anterior cruciate ligament," he'd explained, each word sinking like a stone into the pit of your stomach. "It's not uncommon for volleyball players, but..." He'd paused then, his eyes meeting yours. The pity in them had been unbearable. "In your case, the tear was exceptionally severe. Even with the surgery, full recovery isn't guaranteed."

You'd sat frozen, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a physical force. And yet, somehow, you'd found the courage to ask the question you'd dreaded most.

"But, can I play again?" Your voice had been barely above a whisper, shaky and fraught with hope you couldn't suppress.

The look in his eyes had answered before his lips did.

"I'm sorry," he'd said softly, his tone laden with regret. "You won't be able to return to professional volleyball, it would be too risky."

In that moment, it had felt as though your world had shattered. Everything you'd worked for, everything you'd built your life around, crumbled to dust. The rest of his words had been a blur, drowned out by the roar of your own blood in your ears. He'd talked about rehabilitation, about alternative paths, about hope. But you hadn't heard him. All you'd known was the overwhelming sense of loss, the aching void where your dreams had been.

The months that followed had been some of the hardest of your life. The days blurred together, each one an uphill battle against despair. You'd spent countless hours lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, questioning everything. Why had this happened to you? What had you done to deserve it?

And yet, amidst the darkness, a small spark had remained. A stubborn, resilient part of you refused to give up entirely. Volleyball had taught you that much, at least: when you fall, you get back up. Even when it's hard. And fuck, was it still hard to do so even now.

It was that spark that had led you to make a desicion you never thought you'd make: To come back to Japan. To come back to your grandfather, you'd also left behind. And now, here you were. Returning to the city you'd left behind, to the life you'd tried so hard to forget. 

There was nothing left for you in the United States. It was time to start over. To rebuild.

But as the plane was about to land, you couldn't help but feel the ache in your stomach grow stronger. You told yourself it would be fine. After all, he didn't live in Tokyo. The odds of running into him were slim. Right?

You closed your eyes and leaned back into your seat, the hum of the engines a soothing balm against your thoughts. But no matter how hard you tried, the unease lingered, a shadow you couldn't shake.

The plane finally touched down with a gentle jolt, the hum of the engines shifting as the aircraft slowed to a crawl on the tarmac. The seatbelt sign blinked off, and a wave of movement rippled through the cabin as passengers stirred, reaching for overhead compartments and stretching stiff limbs. You sat still for a moment, the surreal weight of it all keeping you rooted in place. This was real. You were here.

Finally, with a deep breath, you stood, retrieving your carry-on bag with hands that felt strangely detached from your body. As you stepped into the bustling terminal, the world seemed muted, the bright lights and announcements over the PA system blending into a distant, incomprehensible murmur. The throng of travelers moved around you like a current, but you felt suspended in a bubble, your thoughts louder than the commotion.

The walk to the baggage claim felt interminable, every step echoing in your mind as you tried to ground yourself in the present. Your shoes clicked softly against the polished floor, the sound barely audible over the cacophony of suitcases rolling and conversations in multiple languages. Your mind, however, was far away, tangled in the web of fears and uncertainties that had been building since you first decided to come back.

It wasn't just him that made your chest ache. It was also your grandpa. To say you were scared was an understatement. It had been so long since you'd last seen him. Sure, you'd kept in contact all these years, but it wasn't the same. You could still hear his voice from your last phone call, warm and cheerful as always. He'd asked you to visit so many times, his invitations always filled with hope, and yet, you'd found excuse after excuse to avoid coming back.

These past few months, even calling him had become harder. You hadn't wanted to tell him the truth. How could you? How could you put into words what had happened, the reality of what you'd lost? You'd managed to muster up the courage to call him recently, to tell him you were finally coming home. His excitement had been immediate, his happiness almost overwhelming. But now, the doubts gnawed at you. What would he say when he found out? Would he be disappointed? Would he be angry that you hadn't told him sooner? Would he...love you less, now that you couldn't play volleyball professionally anymore?

The thought made your stomach churn. You swallowed hard, gripping the handle of your suitcase as you finally spotted it on the conveyor belt. The brightly colored luggage tag you'd tied on for easy identification felt like a mocking reminder of your old self, the version of you who'd boarded planes with confidence and purpose. Now, every step toward the exit felt like wading through quicksand, the weight of your uncertainty pulling you down.

For a fleeting moment, the thought crossed your mind to turn around, to find another flight and escape back to the United States. The idea seemed absurd, yet it lingered, teasing you with the possibility of running from everything once more. You tightened your grip on your luggage, your knuckles white, as you stared at the automatic doors ahead, hesitating.

"Y/N!!"

The shout cut through the fog of your thoughts like a beacon. You froze, your eyes widening as the sound of hurried footsteps reached your ears. Spinning around, you saw him. Your grandpa, his face alight with joy, his arms pumping as he ran toward you.

"Y/N!" he called again, louder this time, his voice filled with unrestrained happiness. Before you could process what was happening, he collided with you, wrapping you in a bear hug that almost knocked the breath out of you.

"Oh my god, you don't know how happy I am to see you, my little kitten!" he cried, his voice thick with emotion. You felt his arms tighten around you, the warmth of his embrace momentarily pushing aside the storm of emotions swirling inside you. Your eyes widened at the familiar nickname, the affectionate name he'd used ever since he'd taken you in all those years ago. It had been so long since you'd heard it spoken aloud.

"I'm... I'm happy to see you too, Grandpa," you managed to say, your voice wavering as you lightly returned the hug. But even as you said the words, the nausea in your stomach intensified, the doubts and fears resurfacing like an undertow.

He pulled back, his hands on your shoulders as he beamed at you, his eyes crinkling with pure joy. "Let me look at you!" he said, his voice brimming with pride. "You've grown so much! Not a little kitten anymore, more like a full grown cat! How have you been? What's life like over there? Tell me everything!"

His questions came rapid-fire, each one delivered with the same enthusiasm that had always defined him. You tried to answer, you really did, but your replies were clipped and hesitant, your voice barely audible over the whirlwind in your mind. He didn't seem to notice, his delight unshaken as he led you toward the exit, your suitcase trailing behind you.

Outside, the cool evening air hit your face, carrying with it the faint scents of the city—a mixture of car exhaust, street food, and something you couldn't really name but it was familiar. As he drove you back to your old home, he talked animatedly about how things had been in Japan, filling the silence with stories and updates. You tried to focus, nodding and murmuring responses where appropriate, but your thoughts remained elsewhere.

Each mile brought you closer to the life you'd left behind, to the truths you'd been avoiding. And yet, as the car turned down familiar streets, the sound of your grandpa's laughter ringing in your ears. The car hummed softly as it came to a stop, the weight of unspoken words filling the space between you and your grandfather. "You know," he said, his voice warm and steady, "a lot has changed since you left. I had to deal with some meatheads on the team but also some real interesting talents. It's not easy, but we, Nekomatas, always adapt, am I right?" His bright smile lit up his face as he glanced at you, but his expression faltered when he noticed your gaze fixed out the window.

The city lights blurred past, but your focus was elsewhere, lost in the tangled threads of your thoughts. His smile faded, replaced by a look of quiet concern. "Are you alright, my little kitten?" he asked gently. The sound of his voice pulled you back to the present, and you jumped slightly, startled by the question.

Shit, you thought to yourself, scrambling for a response. "I-I... uh, of course I'm okay," you stammered, forcing a nervous laugh. But his raised eyebrow told you he wasn't buying it.

"Y/N," he said, his tone soft but insistent. "I've been raising you since you were four. I can tell when you're lying to me."

You tried to hold onto your nervous smile, but under his knowing gaze, your resolve crumbled. With a heavy sigh, you slumped in your seat. "Fine," You muttered. "you're right," you admitted, your voice tinged with defeat.

A triumphant smile spread across his face. "Can't hide anything from your old pop." he said, his tone teasing yet filled with affection. His smile coaxed a faint one from you, but it quickly faded as you wrestled with what you needed to say. "Honey, what's wrong?"

Gathering your courage, you stared down at your hands, clenched tightly into fists on your thighs. "Grandpa, the reason I came home is..." you began, but the words felt like lead in your throat. Your frustration and anger bubbled to the surface, but you pushed them down, struggling to find your voice. "It's because..." You tried again but the words just wouldn't come out. 

You were so scared of what he'd say. So scared of what he'd think of you. Him, the one that had introduced youto volleyball in the first place. The one that had trained you all the way to high school. You just... you didn't want to disappoint him.

Before you could continue, his voice broke through the silence. "I know, honey," he said gently.

Your head snapped up, eyes wide as you turned to face him. "W-What?" you stammered, your heart pounding.

He offered you a sad, knowing smile. "I know that you're not a professional volleyball player anymore."

"B-But how?" you asked, your voice cracking as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes.

"A little after your surgery," he began, his voice steady but laced with emotion, "one of your friends called me. She said she was worried about you, about how you were handling the doctor's decision. I was confused at first, but that's when she told me what happened."

The weight of his words hit you like a tidal wave. "So... you knew the entire time?" you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He nodded, his expression tender. You clenched your fists harder, your nails digging into your palms as you fought to suppress the tears threatening to spill. "And you're not... mad or disappointed?" you asked, too afraid to meet his eyes.

The silence that followed was unbearable, each passing second tightening the knot in your chest. Your heart clenched as the worst-case scenario played out in your mind. You knew it. You knew he was going to be disappointed—

"How could you even think that?" His voice cracked, and suddenly, his arms were around you, holding you tightly. "I could never be disappointed in you, my little kitten."

Your eyes widened at his words, and the dam broke. Tears streamed down your face as you clung to him, burying your face in his shoulder. "You already went so far beyond my expectations," he continued, pulling back slightly to look at you, his hands on your shoulders. "I mean, Y/N, you went to the goddamn Olympics! And Japan won second place! I saw the match, I saw you. You were amazing and still are amazing, even if you can't play seriously anymore."

Despite yourself, a shaky laugh escaped your lips. His smile widened, and he wiped at his own tears. "I couldn't be prouder of you." he said earnestly before pulling you into another hug. "I wish I could've seen you more often, been there for you when you needed it. But after your friend called, I figured you didn't want to tell me, so I waited. I waited for you to tell me when you were ready."

His hand moved up and down your back in a soothing motion as he whispered, "I'm so glad you're finally home, back to your old and lonely pop, my little kitten. It's been such a long time."

You nodded into his neck, your voice muffled but sincere. "I'm glad to be back." For the first time, the words felt true, like a weight had been lifted from your chest.

He pulled back, patting your shoulder with a smile. "Now, come on! Let's get some food into you!" he declared, opening the car door with an exaggerated flourish.

You laughed, wiping your tears. "Oh my god, please! You don't know how much I've missed the food from home. American food is gross."

He chuckled, throwing an arm around your shoulder as you stepped out of the car. "Don't worry. I've prepared all your favorites!"

As you walked toward your childhood home, his voice filled the night air with warmth, the weight of the past lifting with each step.

Your grandpa's hands moved deftly, twisting the key in the lock with a practiced ease, the sound of the tumblers clicking faint but comforting. The door creaked softly as it swung open, revealing the familiar entryway bathed in warm, golden light. You stepped inside hesitantly, the weight of the past pressing heavily on your shoulders as your eyes adjusted to the dimness.

The home was just as you remembered it—simple and modest, yet steeped in a kind of quiet warmth that felt like a balm to your restless mind. The faint aroma of tatami mats mingled with the lingering scent of sandalwood incense, a smell that instantly tugged at your heartstrings. You inhaled deeply, the nostalgic fragrance weaving through you like a thread, stitching up wounds you hadn't even realized were there.

The small genkan greeted you first, its wooden flooring polished to a gentle shine. Your gaze fell on the familiar pair of sandals neatly arranged by the wall—your grandpa's, unmistakably his. Beside them, a pair of your old sneakers sat waiting, scuffed and faded but still perfectly preserved. A feeling of nostalgia stabbed at your chest as you slipped off your shoes and placed them beside the others, the simple act feeling like an offering to the life you had once left behind.

"Come in, come in," your grandpa urged, his voice carrying from the small kitchen ahead as he shuffled past you. "I'll get dinner heated up. Make yourself comfortable."

You gave a wordless nod, but your feet didn't move to follow him right away. Instead, you stood there, letting your eyes roam the small entryway and beyond. The wooden beams that lined the ceiling bore the same subtle imperfections you remembered, tiny knotholes like constellations in the grain. The walls were adorned with minimal decor—a couple of framed black-and-white photographs, one of your grandpa in his youth, and another of your late grandmother, smiling serenely and many more of you throughout your childhood. It all felt timeless, like stepping into a memory.

As you wandered deeper into the house, the gentle creak of the floorboards beneath your feet became a comforting rhythm. The living room came into view next, with its low table neatly set with coasters and a lone bonsai tree perched in the center. The cushions around the table were plump and inviting, their patterned covers slightly faded but still vibrant with color. The shoji screens that separated the living room from the outside garden were drawn open, revealing the faint silhouette of the garden's stone lantern bathed in moonlight.

You lingered there for a moment, letting the quiet stillness of the house wash over you. There was something so profoundly grounding about it all, as though the house itself were reaching out to hold you steady. But the pull of curiosity was stronger, and before long, your wandering feet carried you toward a familiar hallway—the one leading to your old bedroom.

The memories stirred as you walked, each step feeling heavier than the last. Your hand hesitated as it hovered just inches from the sliding door. The wood felt cool under your fingertips as you finally made contact, the faintest tremor in your hand betraying your nerves. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself, and then slid the door open.

Your room was exactly as you'd left it. The sight stopped you in your tracks, a wave of bittersweet nostalgia crashing over you. The pale white walls were the same, adorned with strings of glowing fairy lights that cast a soft, warm hue over the space. The volleyball posters you'd carefully arranged years ago still hung in their places, edges slightly curled but otherwise untouched. 

The bed was neatly made, its dark green comforter smooth and inviting, and the small desk in the corner still held your old study lamp, its once-bright red shade now a muted hue. A hanging planter swayed gently by the window, the small plant inside thriving despite the years of neglect. The shelf above the desk held a mix of old books and trinkets, still intact.

You stepped inside slowly, your eyes darting from one detail to the next, every corner of the room whispering fragments of your younger self. Your fingers grazed the edge of the desk as you walked, the smooth wood cool to the touch. A small, circular rug lay in the middle of the room, its soft fibers brushing against your socked feet as you crossed to the bed.

"I kept it as it was," came a voice from the doorway, making you jump slightly. You turned to see your grandpa standing there, his expression gentle and filled with quiet pride. "Do you still like it?" he asked, his voice soft.

You looked around the room again, a thousand emotions threatening to overwhelm you as the memories of your childhood came rushing back. They were bittersweet, tinged with both joy and loss, but they were yours.

"It's perfect." you murmured, a small, genuine smile tugging at your lips.

But then something caught your eye. One of the photos pinned to the wall next to your bed stood out, its colors vivid even in the dim light. You stepped closer, curiosity tugging at you. Your hand reached out almost on its own, plucking the small photo from the wall. Your breath hitched as you stared at it.

Your eyes widened in shock. 

Keishin Ukai.

It was a picture of you and Keishin from high school. A selfie, taken in your second year, just before a big match. You could still remember the excitement that had buzzed through you when you'd received that polaroid camera for your sixteenth birthday. In the photo, the two of you were grinning ear to ear, cheeks flushed with the energy of youth.

You suddenly shook your head, making sure you weren't imagining him. It had been a while since you'd last seen him, since he'd crossed your mind. And for good reasons. You didn't want to think about him. You had avoided thinking about him all these years. But sometimes, he came back to your mind, you couldn't help it. He had been tied to your entire childhood after all, until.. well, that day.

However, even after all these years, the anger and hatred you felt for your ex-childhood friend hadn't died down. Even if you were back in Japan now, you refused to let feelings of the past resurface. You didn't want to think about him, not now or ever. He didn't deserve to be in your mind. Ukai was a person of the past and it would remain that way.

"I found it a while ago while I was doing some cleaning," your grandpa said, his voice pulling you from your thoughts. He stepped closer, his hands tucked into his sleeves. "I thought it should be back in its place with all the other photos, no?"

The sight of the photo made something twist inside you—a mix of anger, hurt, and longing all tangled together. The memories it brought were too sharp, too raw. Your hand tightened around the photo as your jaw clenched.

"No," you said bitterly, the word cutting through the quiet. "I think you should've put it in its rightful place."

Before your grandpa could respond, you turned on your heel and strode to the trashcan by the desk. Without hesitation, you dropped the photo inside, the sound of paper hitting plastic far louder than it should have been. Your chest heaved as you stormed past your grandpa, leaving the room behind.

"Y/N..." he started, his voice tinged with sadness, but you didn't stop.

He stood there for a moment, the weight of your emotions hanging heavy in the air. Slowly, he bent down and retrieved the photo, his fingers brushing off the faint dust that had settled on it. He gazed at it for a long moment, his expression unreadable.

"You'll thank me one day." he murmured softly to himself. Carefully, he slipped the photo into his pocket, patting it as if to reassure it of its safety. Then, with a quiet sigh, he followed after you, heading toward the kitchen where you waited.

Yasufumi gestured toward the chair at the table, his smile warm and patient despite the frustration etched across your face. He had a way of diffusing tension, of pretending not to notice your mood while giving you just enough space to calm down. You slumped into the seat, crossing your arms as if you were a teenager all over again, and he rolled his eyes with a chuckle.

"I feel like you're back in high school all over again with that face." he said, the teasing lilt in his voice both affectionate and exasperated. "I should've known better than to put back that photo with Keishin. Old man's mistake."

You stiffened slightly at the mention of that name, but you said nothing, staring at the table instead. He moved around the small kitchen with practiced ease, pulling dishes from the stove and setting them neatly on the counter. The savory aroma of simmered chicken and soy sauce filled the room, but even that comfort couldn't soften the tight line of your lips.

As he worked, your grandfather couldn't help but glance at you, his expression thoughtful. The years might have passed, but some things hadn't changed. You still wore your emotions openly, your frustrations simmering just beneath the surface. He sighed quietly as he remembered your younger days, the countless times he'd watched you and Keishin grow together—from awkward children fumbling with volleyballs to skilled players with a bond that seemed unshakable.

Until it wasn't.

When the rift between you and Keishin had widened into silence, neither you nor he had offered any real explanation. Even when he'd tried to get to the bottom of it with his old friend Ikkei, Keishin's grandfather, neither of them could piece together what had gone wrong. And now, after all these years, your resentment still lingered. It saddened him to see it. He couldn't help but wonder if Keishin—that stubborn, sharp-tongued boy—was still carrying his own anger too.

"Young people," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head with a wry smile as he carried two plates to the table. "Always so complicated."

"What was that, Grandpa?" you asked, looking up with a quirked brow.

"Nothing, nothing," he replied, quickly waving it off as he set the food down. "Do you want soy sauce with your chicken?"

You nodded, watching as he grabbed the bottle and returned to his seat. He poured a small drizzle over your plate before settling into his chair with a contented sigh.

"Thanks," you murmured, picking up your chopsticks. Despite the enticing aroma and the clear care he'd put into the meal, your face still held that faint shadow of irritation.

He studied you for a moment, amusement flickering in his eyes. "So, what's the plan now that you're back?" he asked casually, breaking the silence.

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. "Huh? Oh, well... I haven't really thought about it yet. I guess I'll start looking for an apartment soon. I don't want to overstay here, so I'll find a place and maybe a job to help out with bills while I figure things out."

His eyes widened in exaggerated horror, and he clutched his chest dramatically. "WHAT?!" he exclaimed, his voice loud enough to make you jump. "You're already planning to leave? You don't love your poor old pop-pop anymore?"

"Wait! That's not what I meant!" you stammered, holding up your hands in alarm. "Of course I love you! I just... I thought you wouldn't want to support a grown adult like me."

His mock sadness vanished in an instant, replaced by a broad grin. "Nonsense! You're my granddaughter. You're staying right here, and when you get married, you can move out. Maybe."

"M-Married?" you spluttered, nearly choking on your chicken. "Who said anything about getting married? I'm still young!"

"At your age, I was already married to your beautiful grandma and your mother was on the way," he replied with a nostalgic smile, "but I get it. Times change. Besides, that just means I get to keep you here longer."

You let out a reluctant laugh, shaking your head. "Fine. But I'm still getting a job so I can help pay for things."

"Well, about that..." he started, scratching the back of his head as a nervous look crept onto his face.

You tilted your head, curious. "What is it?"

"You don't have to say yes or anything," he said quickly, his words tumbling over each other, "but I was thinking... maybe it would do you some good... with everything going on and all..."

"Grandpa," you interrupted firmly, arching a brow. "Just spit it out."

He chuckled sheepishly. "Right, right. Well, I'm getting older, you know. I can't coach the boys' team forever. So I was wondering if you'd... well, if you'd consider helping me out as a coach for Nekoma."

Your eyes widened, your chopsticks frozen mid-air. "You want me to coach the boys' team?"

"It's just a thought!" he added hurriedly. "If it's too soon, or you're not ready, I completely understand—"

"I'll do it." you said softly, cutting him off.

He blinked, startled. "What?"

"I said I'll do it," you repeated, this time with a small, determined smile. "I know that it's been less than a year since I stopped playing professionally but volleyball is still my passion. I've already spent months mopping around, doing nothing. I didn't come back to Japan just to feel sorry for myself. Maybe it's my chance and yeah, even though it's still painful, I'll admit it, if coaching means I can stay connected to the game and help others fall in love with it too, then I'll give it everything I've got."

For a moment, he just stared at you, his eyes misting over as his lips trembled into a smile. "You... you're incredible, you know that?" he said, his voice thick with emotion.

"Why are you crying?" you asked, half amused, half confused.

"Allergies," he sniffed, quickly wiping at his eyes. "The soy sauce fumes are very strong today."

You laughed softly, shaking your head as you returned to your meal. "Sure, Grandpa."

But as you ate, a small spark of hope warmed your chest. Maybe this was why you'd come back. Maybe coaching wasn't just a way forward—maybe it was a way back to yourself. Even if it still hurt, you couldn't give up. You had to get back up and move on, just like in a match.

Maybe it could even be the start of something good.

***

 

Chapter 2: Nekoma

Chapter Text

Standing in front of the gym at Nekoma High School, you felt an unsettling churn in your stomach. The building was just as you remembered—its weathered façade and the creak of its door hinges from years of determined athletes coming and going. The air carried the faint, comforting scent of wood polish and gym mats, mingling with the distant sounds of shoes screeching across the polished floors and the rhythmic echo of a volleyball being spiked. These were the sounds of your youth, the sounds of countless memories both triumphant and bittersweet. They filled you with nostalgia—and a growing knot of anxiety.

Taking a shaky breath, you steadied yourself. This was your fresh start, the chance to rebuild what had felt lost. It had been two weeks since your return to Japan, and today marked the official beginning of your journey as a coach. Despite the excitement of reuniting with the sport you loved, an overwhelming nervousness crept into your chest. Coaching was a different beast entirely. You had lived and breathed volleyball as a player, but guiding others from the sidelines? That was uncharted territory. Still, the faith your grandfather had shown in you—and your desire but also pressure to honor his legacy—pushed you forward. Hopefully it was in your blood, right? He had coached generations of players, and now it was your turn to step up.

Your hand hovered over the door handle, trembling slightly. The realization struck you like a spike to the chest—you'd faced the pressure of the Olympics without a flinch, yet this moment, standing here with nothing more than your name and promise to guide a team, terrified you. Doubts whispered in your mind. Would they accept you? Would they respect you? The idea of coaching a group of teenagers—so often brimming with defiance and hormones—was far more intimidating than any opponent you'd ever faced on the court. This was the rebellious and ungrateful age, wasn't it? Memories of Ukai's rebellious streak came to mind, his teenage years being an endless test of your patience. You shook your head sharply. Don't think about him, you chastised yourself. Focus on the task at hand.

Steeling yourself, you exhaled slowly and reached for the door. Just as you pushed it ajar, you froze, hearing your grandfather's voice boom over the faint commotion inside.

"Alright, everyone! Gather around, I have an announcement to make." he called, his tone commanding yet familiar. The shuffle of sneakers and the thud of volleyballs halting punctuated his words as the students obeyed. Your heart raced. Hesitating, you peeked through the slight opening, your hand still resting on the door's edge.

The scene inside brought a lump to your throat. There he was, your grandfather, standing at the center of the gym. The years had carved lines into his face, but his posture was as strong and sure as ever. The players surrounded him, their curious and eager faces turned up towards him like sunflowers seeking light. They were younger than you remembered being at their age, though their stature—many of them tall and broad—made them seem larger than life. A pang of nostalgia surged through you, the familiar sight of Nekoma's red and black jerseys stirring memories you'd tucked away long ago.

"What is it, coach? Did we do something wrong?" Inuoka's voice piped up, tinged with worry.

Your grandfather chuckled warmly. "No, nothing like that."

"Oh, do we finally have a female manager?!" Takekora interjected, his excitement earning a chorus of groans and playful shoves from his teammates.

"Absolutely not." your grandfather shot back, silencing the chatter. His expression turned slightly more serious as he addressed the group. "I do have a serious announcement, though. Don't make assumptions, Kuroo," he said, his sharp gaze landing on the smirking captain before the boy could even speak.

"What?" Kuroo said with mock innocence, his hands raised in surrender. "You've got your 'serious' face on, coach. Don't tell me you're finally retiring old man."

The team erupted into murmurs, but your grandfather silenced them with a raised hand. "Mm, not yet. I'm afraid you'll have to put up with this old cat for a while longer." His sly smile earned a wave of laughter and relieved sighs.

"However," he continued, his tone shifting to one of gravity, "I'm not as young as I used to be. That's why I've made a decision. I've hired an assistant coach to help me—someone who will eventually take over when the time comes."

The gym erupted into noise again. "What?! But you're already perfect, Coach! Why do we need someone new?" Taketora protested, his voice filled with exaggerated disbelief.

"Relax, everyone," Kuroo interjected, his tone calming the group. "Coach is not leaving us right now, but he's right, he won't be around forever. Whoever he chose has got to be good if he trusts them."

"Exactly," your grandfather said, his eyes sparkling with pride. "This coach is new to the role, but I have no doubt she'll find her footing quickly."

"She?" Taketora's intrigue skyrocketed. "You mean our new coach is a woman?" 

"That's not very common for a boys' team." Yaku mused, crossing his arms thoughtfully.

Kenma, as usual, stayed quiet, his golden eyes flickering with curiosity. Finally, he spoke. "A new, inexperienced coach, and so close to the Inter-High? That's unusual. Who is she?" Kenma's voice was quiet but probing.

"Ah, that's the question, isn't it?" Your grandfather smiled, his chest puffing with pride. "Well, she's a former student of Nekoma High, and she's no stranger to volleyball. In fact, she's a silver medalist from the 2008 Olympics."

Gasps rippled through the group. Inuoka nearly bounced on his feet in excitement. "No way! An Olympian? That's amazing!"

"And that's not even the best part," your grandfather teased, the glint in his eye signaling that your moment had arrived. Your eyes slightly widened. How did he know you were even here? You rolled your eyes amused. Your grandpa always liked to make entrances after all. 

"She's also my granddaughter," he said, the pride in his voice palpable. "Y/N Nekomata."

Summoning every ounce of courage, you stepped through the door just as the words left his mouth. The gym fell silent. Every eye turned to you, their gazes a mix of awe and disbelief. 

Everyone was frozen in place, their gazes locked on you with a mix of awe and disbelief. You could feel the intensity of their stares, the weight of their expectations pressing down on you like the suffocating tension before a critical point in a match. Your heart was pounding in your chest, each beat a deafening drumroll, but you refused to let it show. You couldn't let them know you were nervous or all your authority would go up in flames. Maybe, just maybe, they could smell fear, you thought to yourself which only added to your self-awareness. You straightened your back, squared your shoulders, and took a deep breath, forcing calmness into your trembling hands.

With steady steps, you moved to stand beside your grandfather. The sound of your sneakers against the polished wooden floor echoed in the otherwise silent gym, each step somehow amplifying the charged atmosphere. The boys' eyes followed your every movement, their expressions a mixture of astonishment and wide-eyed wonder. Some had their mouths slightly agape, as if struggling to process that the person standing before them wasn't just a rumor or an impossible dream but someone real. Still, you couldn't understand why they were all staring at you like that. The silence lingered, thick and heavy, until you decided to take control and break it.

"Hi," you began, your voice clear yet warm, slicing through the quiet with practiced ease. "I'm Y/n Nekomata, but you can call me coach, or just Y/n is fine." You paused, offering them a soft smile, a gesture you hoped was both welcoming and reassuring. "I'm delighted to meet all of you, and I'm looking forward to working together and improving you the best I can!"

Your words seemed to snap the boys out of their collective daze. Suddenly, the room erupted into chaos. Shouts of disbelief and excitement filled the air as they surged forward, bombarding you with a flurry of questions and exclamations. Their enthusiasm was palpable, almost overwhelming, and you caught sight of one boy—Taketora—standing off to the side with his hands clasped together as if in prayer, his face tilted heavenward in a bizarre display of gratitude. You stifled a laugh, though you couldn't help the amused smile tugging at your lips.

"Alright, that's enough!" your grandfather's voice rang out, sharp and commanding. The boys immediately froze, their animated chatter cut off like a record scratch. "Stop harassing my beautiful granddaughter." he added with a glare sharp enough to make even the most enthusiastic of them recoil slightly. Still, their fascination was evident in their lingering glances and barely-contained energy.

"Coach! How is it that you never told us your granddaughter was the Y/n Nekomata?!" Inuoka blurted out, his voice filled with equal parts shock and indignation. He whipped his head toward you, his eyes wide. "I mean, come on! She's a huge celebrity, man!"

Your grandfather's expression shifted into one of mild exasperation. "Firstly," he began, fixing Inuoka with a raised eyebrow, "I'm surprised none of you put two and two together. She's plastered all over the school, and we share the same last name." His unimpressed tone left no room for argument, and you could see the boys collectively wince as their egos took a hit.

"Well," Kuroo chimed in, attempting to salvage their dignity with a nonchalant shrug, "Nekomata is a common name, isn't it?"

"Not as common as you'd like to believe," your grandfather shot back dryly, rolling his eyes before continuing. "Secondly, some things are better kept secret. I mean, just look at how you're all acting now." He gestured toward the group, who, despite having stepped back, still were gathered all around you, looking as if debating whether you were real or not and ready to either bow at your feet or pepper you with more questions.

You chuckled nervously, your hand instinctively moving to rub the back of your neck. "I think you guys are exagerating, I'm not that much of a celebrity-" you started to say, only to be immediately interrupted.

"Nonsense!" Taketora practically shouted, his voice brimming with fervor. "Everyone who plays volleyball has heard about you! You're the pride of the school!"

You blinked, startled by his sincerity. "What? I- I am?" you asked, genuinely confused. Your gaze shifted to your grandfather, silently asking for confirmation. He nodded, his expression a mixture of pride and amusement.

"Well, it's not every day a student from Nekoma goes to the Olympics," he said, his voice warm. "We've got to brag a little."

"A little?" Kuroo muttered, earning a snicker from Yaku.

The boys began to chime in, their excitement rekindling as they spoke over one another about how much of an inspiration you were and how they couldn't believe they'd be coached by someone like you. It was overwhelming, the sheer volume of their enthusiasm, but also deeply touching. You felt an unexpected warmth blossom in your chest, a sense of belonging you hadn't realized you'd been missing. All these years, you'd thought of yourself as a stranger to this place, but here they were, these boys who barely knew you, welcoming you as if you'd never left. This is what you'd been avoiding all this time? Just because of one man?

"We're honored to have you in our presence." one of them said earnestly, bowing deeply. The others followed suit, their voices rising in unison as they shouted, "Please, teach us everything you know!"

For a moment, you were at a loss for words, overwhelmed by the intensity of their sincerity. You glanced at your grandfather, who gave you an encouraging nod, his eyes twinkling with pride. Turning back to the boys, you smiled, the nerves that had gripped you earlier dissolving into a quiet confidence. You wondered why you had even been scared in the first place.

"I'm honored to be able to coach you," you said, your voice steady and genuine. "And I'll give it my all to improve you to the best of your capabilities and bring you far!"

The gym erupted into cheers, their voices echoing off the walls in a chaotic symphony of excitement. Watching them, you felt a surge of determination. This was it—your fresh start, why you had come back to Japan. Whatever challenges lay ahead, you knew you were ready to face them, not just for yourself, but for them. You didn't this team yet but you already couldn't wait to work with them and bring them to the nationals. 

Maybe your grandfather was right, coaching was in your blood.

***

 

Chapter 3: Rivalry

Chapter Text

The gym was alive with the sounds of determination—sneakers squeaking against polished wood, the rhythmic thump of volleyballs striking hands and floor, and the occasional shout of encouragement or frustration from the Nekoma team. You stood in the center of the controlled chaos, your voice sharp and commanding as you called out instructions.

"Kozume, keep your eyes on the setter! Inuoka, don't rely on just your height; use your timing! Yamamoto, stay grounded and stop chasing every single ball like it's a catnip toy!" Your words rang through the air as the boys scrambled to adjust, their responses coming in the form of breathless "Yes, Coach!" and renewed effort.

It had been three weeks since you had taken up the position as Nekoma's coach, and already the team was showing remarkable improvement. Their movements were sharper, their teamwork more cohesive, and their energy more focused. Even their confidence had taken a noticeable leap, and it wasn't just the boys who had taken notice. The whispers about Nekoma's new coach had spread far and wide, from the school halls to the surrounding schools in Tokyo. The pride in your grandfather's eyes whenever someone mentioned it was impossible to miss, even if he pretended otherwise.

"Block that! Don't let it hit the floor!" you shouted, clapping your hands sharply. The boys dove and lunged with everything they had, their sweat-drenched forms evidence of the intensity of your drills. You crossed your arms, watching them with a mix of satisfaction and critical focus, your keen eye catching every misstep and triumph alike.

Suddenly, the door to the gym creaked open, letting in a shaft of light from the hallway. You turned your head to see your grandfather stepping inside, his familiar cane tapping lightly against the floor as he walked with a smirk that immediately put you on guard.

What had he done now?

"Don't stop until I say so!" you barked at the team, their responding shouts of acknowledgment echoing in unison. Leaving them to their practice, you strode over to your grandfather, wiping your hands on your tracksuit. His eyes scanned the gym, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he watched the boys push themselves under your guidance.

"I'll admit," he began with a chuckle, "I'm surprised. You're even harder on them than I am."

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. "I think you're just too soft," you countered, the corner of your mouth twitching upward in a smirk. "If they want to make it to nationals, they need to toughen up. They need hard training, discipline, and focus." You turned to glance at the boys, who were diving and shouting under your relentless direction. "And I know they want it."

Nekomata let out a wistful sigh, shaking his head with a fond smile. "Ah, it's not fair."

Your brows furrowed as you turned back to him. "What do you mean?"

"You," he said, gesturing toward you with his cane. "You've barely been coaching for three weeks, and you're already better than I am. It's not fair."

You couldn't help but laugh, the sound escaping you despite your best attempt to look modest. "Stop flattering me, Pop. I'm not buying you dessert, no matter how hard you try. The doctor said you need to cut back on sugar, remember?"

He gave you an offended look, his smirk replaced with a dramatic frown. "Hey, I'm not-" He paused mid-sentence, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Wait. You're serious? You really won't?"

"Not a chance."

"You're unbelievable. Treating your own grandfather like this." he grumbled, though the twinkle in his eyes betrayed his amusement.

You rolled your eyes but softened as his hand settled on your shoulder, his grip firm yet comforting. "But hey," he began, his tone shifting to something more serious, "I mean it, Y/n. I think you're going to be an even greater coach than I ever was. You were made for this."

His words hit you square in the chest, and you placed your hand over his, squeezing it gently. "Thanks, Grandpa," you murmured, your voice nearly cracking. "That means a lot."

He gave you a warm smile, patting your shoulder. Then, as if unable to stand the emotional moment any longer, he straightened up. "Anyway, enough of this sentimental crap. I have some good news."

You chuckled, shaking your head at his abrupt shift. "Sure, what is it?"

"I just got off the phone," he said, a proud grin spreading across his face, "and we're having a practice match next week, on the last day of Golden Week with our rival school for the first time in five years."

Your eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Wait. Rival school? You mean..."

"Karasuno, of course!" he declared, his grin widening.

Your stomach did a strange flip. "O-oh," you stammered, trying to muster enthusiasm. "That's uhm... that's great. Our old rivalry. How could I forget? Haha..."

Nekomata's excitement was palpable. "I've been waiting for this! Ever since Ikkei retired, we've been out of touch. But now, we have our chance. It's going to be the rematch of the year. I can't wait to rub our victory in their faces." He rubbed his hands together, practically buzzing with glee.

You blinked at him, the words taking a moment to sink in. "Wait what?! Ikkei retired? But he's barely older than you!"

His smile faltered, replaced by a faint sadness. "Yeah," He paused. "He collapsed a few years ago and had to stop coaching. It was a tough call for him, but his health had to come first."

Your heart sank. "Oh my god, that's awful. Is he okay now?"

"He's mostly fine, from what I hear," Nekomata said, nodding. "He tried to come back not long ago, but he collapsed again. Just when I came out of retirement too, I swear to god." He rolled his eyes but continued, "He was released from the hospital recently, though. Maybe I'll go pay a visit to that old crow sometime." He chuckled softly, though the sadness lingered in his eyes.

The news hit you harder than you expected. Ikkei Ukai had always been a larger-than-life figure, stubborn and full of life. To hear that he'd been brought low by health issues... It didn't feel real. You'd known him your whole life; he'd been like a second grandfather to you. However, after what happened in high school with Keishin, you started seing less and less but when you left Japan, that's when you lost contact. Memories of his booming laugh and teasing remarks filled your mind, tinged now with regret. Maybe you should go pay him a visit as well.

"I'm sorry," you said softly. "I didn't know."

"How could you have?" your grandfather replied gently. "You weren't here."

"Exactly," you muttered bitterly. "I wasn't here."

Sensing the shift in your mood, Nekomata cleared his throat. "Anyway, enough about that. We're finally back to the old cat vs crows rivalry! It was at its peak when you were in high school remember? Even you and Keishin would fight all the time about whose school was better." He laughed.

But your eyes widened. "W-Wait, who's coaching Karasuno now?" You asked, a sudden anxiety clinging at you.

"Mmm, what was his name again?" Nekomata looked at the ceiling as he rubbed his chin. "Takoda, Tokoda... Takeda? Oh right! Ittetsu Takeda." He snapped his fingers as he looked back to you. 

The name didn't ring a bell, and you exhaled a quiet sigh of relief. 

"From what I gathered, he seems to new to this world." He continued "Poor guy doesn't have many contacts yet and he was harrassing me with calls but I'm happy he did. It was a much awaited rematch. And now that you're here, my dear granddaughter, we'll be unstoppable!" He grinned.

"Ittetsu Takeda, huh? Well, I hope he's ready for his team to be crushed." You smirked as you brought your fists together.

Your grandfather's grin returned, pride radiating from him. "That's my little kitten. You've grown up so much."

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't help the amused smile tugging at your lips. "Alright, old man. Let's see if your boys can live up to your big talk."

He chuckled, his laughter warm and full of anticipation. Next week was going to be interesting, to say the least.

***

The sound of sneakers squeaking against the polished wooden floor and the rhythmic pounding of a volleyball echoed through the gymnasium. Karasuno's team was immersed in practice, their focus evident in every set, spike, and block. Each player moved with determination, beads of sweat tracing lines down their faces, as they chased their shared goal of greatness. The atmosphere was alive with energy—Hinata leapt high, his body coiled like a spring, while Kageyama's sharp eyes tracked the ball with laser-like precision. Amidst the dynamic flow, Tanaka's voice boomed with encouragement, urging everyone to push harder.

Suddenly, the gym door slammed open with a resounding thud, making heads turn mid-motion. Takeda, breathless and brimming with excitement, charged into the gym like a whirlwind. His hair was a mess, and his glasses slid down his nose as he paused to catch his breath.

"Good job, everyone!" he exclaimed, his voice ringing above the cacophony of the gym. The players slowed to a halt, turning to face him with a mix of curiosity and amusement at his unbridled enthusiasm. "Gather around! I need to share something with all of you!"

Without hesitation, the boys abandoned their drills, forming a loose semicircle around Takeda. The gym, once filled with the sounds of intense practice, now fell silent except for the occasional panting from the players. Takeda adjusted his glasses, the gleam in his eyes unmistakable.

"We're doing it again this year," he began, his voice quivering slightly with anticipation. "The Golden Week training camp!" His words were met with an immediate ripple of interest and approving murmurs.

Daichi, ever the dependable captain, nodded firmly. "Yes, we still need a lot of practice."

Takeda's smile grew wider as he straightened his posture, his excitement clearly building. "That's not all," he continued, drawing out the moment. The players leaned in ever so slightly, their attention fully captured. "For the last day of Golden Week," he paused, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose for dramatic effect, "I've arranged a practice match!"

A wave of excitement swept through the group. Cheers erupted, echoing off the gym walls.

"Awesome! Very impressive, Mr. Takeda!" Tanaka shouted, throwing a fist in the air. His enthusiasm was infectious, and even Tsukishima's usual nonchalance seemed to waver.

Sugawara's eyes sparkled with curiosity. "Who's our opponent?" he asked, his tone calm but eager.

Takeda's expression shifted, becoming almost reverent. "A venerated school in Tokyo," he announced. "Nekoma High School. They call themselves 'neko,' as in 'cat.'"

Hinata tilted his head, eyebrows furrowing. "Cat?" he repeated, his voice laced with curiosity.

Tanaka, quick to explain, turned to Hinata with a grin. "We've heard a lot about them. Our former coach and theirs were rivals. We played against them a lot back in the day."

Hinata's eyes widened in understanding. "Ohhh," he said, the pieces falling into place.

"That's right!" Sugawara chimed in, his voice tinged with nostalgia. "They called it 'Cat vs. Crow: Decisive Battle at the Garbage Dump.'"

Tsukishima raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "You sure those matches were famous?" he quipped, his tone dripping with skepticism.

Daichi turned his attention to Takeda, his brow furrowing slightly. "They've been out of touch with us for quite a while. Why now?"

Takeda hesitated for only a moment before a determined smile spread across his face. "Yeah, I'll tell you the details later. But after I heard about that rival school, I had to arrange for a rematch of destiny." His gaze turned distant, a glint of determination lighting his eyes as he clenched his fists. "When he hears who our opponent is, he'll want to take action."

Before anyone could ask further questions, Takeda spun on his heel and dashed out of the gym, leaving a wake of puzzled expressions behind him.

"He's really fired up about this." Daichi muttered, scratching the back of his head. The players exchanged amused glances before quickly returning to their practice, spurred on by Takeda's contagious energy.

Meanwhile, Takeda's footsteps echoed through the streets as he ran, his heart pounding in rhythm with his determination. The crisp air bit at his face, but he barely noticed. He was on a mission—one that he couldn't afford to fail this time. His destination loomed closer: the familiar façade of Sakanoshita Market.

As he approached, Takeda pressed his face against the window, his breath fogging the glass. Inside, Keishin Ukai was busy sweeping, a cigarette perched loosely between his lips. He hummed softly to himself, oblivious to the figure peering in at him. Takeda wiped a small patch of the glass clear, leaning closer to get a better look. He scanned the interior for any sign of customers. Seeing none, he made his move.

Ukai's humming abruptly stopped as he turned toward the window and saw Takeda's face smushed against the glass. With a startled yell, he nearly dropped the broom. "What the hell?!" he barked, storming out of the store, his cigarette bobbing precariously as he spoke. "What are you doing here?!"

Takeda stumbled back, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "A-Ah, I'm sorry! I was just checking to see if you had any customers." he stammered, his face flushed from both the run and Ukai's reaction.

Ukai glared at him for a moment before sighing and rubbing the back of his neck. "You're here about the coach thing again, aren't you?" he asked, his tone weary but resigned.

Takeda nodded earnestly, his eyes shining with determination. 

Ukai staightened his form, arms folded tightly across his chest, his gaze fixed on a spot somewhere past Takeda's shoulder. "Look, I still like to play. I've even got a local team. But coaching? That's a different story. It's... unbearable." The last word lingered, heavy in the quiet air between them.

Takeda's polite smile faltered, the enthusiasm that had carried him here now tempered by Ukai's blunt rejection. He lowered his head slightly, nodding as if to show he understood—even if he didn't. "I see..." he said softly, though his eyes betrayed the flicker of determination that had not yet been extinguished.

Ukai shifted his weight, leaning back further against the counter as he continued. "And just so we're clear, I'm not stepping foot in that gym either." His words were sharper now, like a door slamming shut.

Takeda's brows furrowed in confusion. He hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to press further, but curiosity got the better of him. "D-Do you have bad memories there or something?" he asked tentatively.

Ukai's lips quirked into a small, humorless smile, and he let out a soft chuckle. "The very opposite, actually," he said, his tone softer now, tinged with something almost wistful. His gaze drifted toward open lands, as if he could see the gym through the farming lands, as if the memories of it were etched into the horizon. "That place is filled with nothing but good memories. Fond memories of my youth or at least.. most of them." He lowered his head. He wasn't entirely lying, the gym was full of beautiful memories, but also painful ones that he didn't want to think about. Painful memories he wanted to leave behind and coming back to the gym would only remind him of them.

Takeda tilted his head, puzzled. "Then, why?" he asked, his voice laced with genuine curiosity.

Ukai's smile faded, and for a moment, he seemed lost in thought. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, almost reflective. "That gym, that club room... they may still look the same, but I'm not. None of us are. That time, that atmosphere, it was something unique. A moment in time that can't be recreated. It belonged to us, and it's gone now. Trying to go back would only ruin it."

Takeda's lips curved into a small smile. "So... it's nostalgia, huh? How nice." His tone was light, almost teasing, but there was a warmth in his voice, an appreciation for Ukai's sentiment.

Ukai's face turned bright red, and he scowled, his embarrassment turning quickly into irritation. "Shut up." he snapped, looking away. "Anyways, that's why I don't want to go back." His words were resolute, his jaw set firmly as he closed his eyes, as if to block out the conversation entirely.

But Takeda wasn't done yet. He straightened his posture slightly, his voice soft but steady as he asked, "Even if Nekoma High School were coming?"

The words landed like a stone dropped into a still pond. Ukai's eyes flew open, his body stiffening as he turned to stare at Takeda. His mouth opened slightly, but no words came out.

"We're having a practice match at the end of Golden Week," Takeda said, a triumphant glint in his eye. "The first match in five years."

Ukai's jaw worked, but his voice caught in his throat. Finally, he managed to stammer, "B-But wh—why now?"

Takeda's smile widened. He could sense the walls around Ukai beginning to crack. "Their coach, Nekomata, just came out of retirement. He was close friends with Coach Ukai, wasn't he? When I heard that, I knew I had to request a match. And he agreed."

Ukai's breath hitched, his hands clenching into fists at his sides as Takeda pressed on. "When you were there, wasn't that when the Nekoma rivalry was at its peak?" he asked, his voice filled with excitement.

Ukai let out a soft noise of agreement, his gaze distant as memories of long rallies and fierce competition filled his mind. He could almost hear the sound of sneakers squeaking against the gym floor, the roar of his teammates' voices and the sting of defeat every single time.

"Well," Takeda continued, his tone growing more persuasive, "I heard that Nekomata's already thinking about the future. Apparently, he's hired a new coach—someone who played for Nekoma seven or eight years ago. That would've been around your time, right? Do you think you might know him?"

For a moment, there was silence. Then, without warning, Ukai grabbed Takeda by the collar, pulling him close. "Hey," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "Are you trying to agitate me?"

Takeda flailed, his hands raised in surrender. "I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean—!" he stammered, his voice rising in panic.

Ukai gave him a little shake, his irritation spilling over. "Are you kidding me? You think I'm going to fall for something so obvious? What time does practice start?" he asked over his shoulder.

Takeda blinked, his mouth opening and closing in confusion. "I... what?"

Ukai didn't wait for clarification and released him abruptly and turned away, striding toward the store. "Nekoma's coming. I can't let them see my successors in a pitiful state. I'm gearing up. Go there and wait!

Takeda0s face brightened before he excitedly smiled. "Y-Yes!" He responded. He had finally succeeded.

Ukai tore off his apron in one swift motion, his voice ringing through the store as he called out to his mother. "Mom! I'm heading out! Take over the store for me!"

He disappeared into the back, leaving Takeda standing there in stunned silence. Moments later, Ukai emerged, his phone in hand as he dialed a number. He spoke quickly, his tone brisk and authoritative as he explained the situation to his local team. One by one, they agreed to meet him at the Karasuno gym.

Ending the call, Ukai pocketed his phone and bounded up the stairs. As he rummaged through his closet, his hands brushed against the familiar fabric of his red training uniform. He pulled it out, running his fingers over the material before slipping it on. It fit perfectly, as though no time had passed at all.

Standing in front of the mirror, he adjusted the collar and smirked at his reflection. His mind buzzed with thoughts of the upcoming match. "Nekoma..." he muttered, his grin widening. He hadn't beaten them back then, but this time would be different. This time, he would make sure of it.

His thoughts briefly drifted to the mysterious new coach. If he'd played at the same time, Ukai was sure he'd recognize him. He hoped it was the setter from those days—the one who had been both his fiercest rival and closest friend since they were both setters. The thought made his grin sharpen.

"Whoever you are," he muttered, rolling his shoulders, "you better be ready."

With that, he turned on his heel and headed out the door, his heart pounding with a mix of excitement and determination. He couldn't wait.

***

 

Chapter 4: Cat vs Crow

Chapter Text

The bus idled outside the gym, its engine a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the crisp spring air. You stood by the open door, your hands cupped around your mouth as you shouted into the gym. "Come on, guys! The bus is leaving soon. We have to go!"

Inside, the remnants of practice lingered in the atmosphere—the faint squeak of sneakers on polished wood, the lingering echo of a ball striking the floor, and the faint smell of sweat mingling with the fresh air drifting through the open doors. The team hustled around, cleaning up stray volleyballs and folding the net with practiced efficiency. Their faces glistened with effort, but there was a palpable energy in their movements. The air buzzed with the anticipation of the day ahead.

It was the last day of Golden Week, and today was the culmination of an intense training camp. Nekoma was finally heading off to the long-awaited practice match with Karasuno. Over the past week, you and your grandfather had poured every ounce of knowledge and strategy into the team. Each night at the camp facility, you'd reviewed drills, discussed plays, and encouraged them to push just a little harder. It was grueling, but it was also deeply rewarding. You'd watched them evolve, their coordination tightening, their resolve sharpening. These boys were good—better than good, even. They had potential, and seeing that potential grow was nothing short of exhilarating.

You leaned against the doorframe for a moment, watching them. It was hard not to feel a swelling of pride. Even with their sometimes chaotic energy, they were good kids. You'd gotten to know them well over the past few weeks, and they'd started to feel like family. Even if they seemed scary at first, like Yamamoto Taketora, whose loud, brash demeanor and looks, might come off like a delinquent at first glance, but beneath the tough exterior was a heart of gold and a passion that burned brightly. Every single one of them burned with a great passion and desire to win.

Their passion reminded you of someone else—a younger version of yourself, back in your high school days. You'd had the same fire, the same unrelenting determination to be the best. Those memories warmed you, even as they stirred something bittersweet. High school had been... mostly good. Your thoughts wandered unbidden, and before you could stop yourself, you were thinking about him. That idiot. The one who... well, it didn't matter now. It was a long time ago, and yet, being back in Miyagi, so close to Karasuno, made it impossible not to think of him. You shook your head, scolding yourself silently. Now wasn't the time for this.

"Coach! You coming?" Kuroo's voice broke through your reverie. He was standing by the bus, one eyebrow raised in amusement.

Blinking, you turned back toward the gym. It was empty now, the boys having already boarded while you'd been lost in thought. "Right, coming!" you called, jogging toward the bus.

Inside, the atmosphere was lively. The team's chatter filled the air, their voices overlapping in a jumble of excitement and nervous energy. You passed your grandfather, who was sitting near the front, engaged in a friendly conversation with the bus driver. He looked up as you passed and gave you a nod of approval.

"Alright, headcount time!" you announced, weaving through the narrow aisle. One by one, you tapped each player on the head, silently counting as you moved. When you reached Taketora, you paused. He was kneeling in his seat, hands clasped in an exaggerated prayer pose, muttering something under his breath. You tilted your head, momentarily perplexed.

"What are you doing?" you asked, more amused than anything. Taketora didn't answer, his eyes squeezed shut in concentration. Shrugging, you touched his head to continue the count. But no sooner had you moved on than you heard a soft thump. Glancing back, you saw him sprawled across the seats, unconscious.

"Is... he okay?" you asked, eyebrows raised.

Kuroo, sitting a row ahead, turned to look. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Don't worry, Coach. He's just been struck down by your immense charms. Happens to the best of us."

You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow at Kuroo. It wasn't the first time he'd teased you like this, and it probably wouldn't be the last. "My immense charms, huh? Maybe you should focus on that 'immense' ball coming your way instead."

Kuroo frowned, confused. "What ball?" he started, but before he could finish, a volleyball sailed through the air and hit him square in the face. The team erupted in laughter.

"Stop flirting with my granddaughter, Kuroo, or I'll bench you!" Nekomata's voice boomed from the front, his tone half-serious, half-amused.

"Sorry, Coach! Can't make any promises." Kuroo replied, winking at you as he rubbed his face. You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress a grin as you made your way back to the front of the bus.

Kuroo was undoubtedly a handful—and delusional, too, if he genuinely thought he had any chance with you. For you, he was still just a kid, like the rest of the team. A determined, talented, and occasionally obnoxious kid, but a kid nonetheless. And, as much as you'd never admit it to his face, it was amusing to watch him try. He was nothing if not persistent, but his antics only ever made you chuckle. These boys were your responsibility, your team. Your job was to nurture their skills, to help them grow and that's what you would do.

But Kuroo's antics aside, the rest of the team was a little easier to handle. Kenma, in particular, was the polar opposite. Quiet, reserved, and endlessly sweet, the shy boy had a special place in your heart. He never sought attention, always preferring to observe rather than engage in the chaos that Kuroo so often encouraged. You just adored him. Then again, you adored all of them, in their own ways. Each boy's distinct personality brought something unique to the team, and watching them interact, bicker, and bond was just amazing. It hadn't been long, but you already loved this job.

As the bus doors hissed shut and the vehicle jolted into motion, you settled into your seat near the back. The gym wasn't far from the camp facilities, just a quick fifteen-minute drive, but the journey felt longer with the hum of the engine blending into the lively chatter of the boys. Leaning back, you allowed a small, content smile to creep onto your face. Today was going to be interesting—there was no doubt about that.

Your mind wandered back to your own high school days again, to the rivalry that had burned so fiercely between Karasuno and Nekoma at the time. At first, it had been nothing more than background noise to you, a competition you hadn't thought much of since you were on the girl's team. Even if you were in Nekoma, you couldn't care less about the boy's team. After all, your support had always been on Keishin, even if he had been in Karasuno. He'd been your anchor, your best friend—someone you'd believed would always be there for you, just as you'd been there for him. Or so you had thought. A bitter pang of regret twisted in your chest, and you shook your head sharply, as though trying to physically dislodge the memories. Why was he always sneaking into your thoughts at the worst times?

"Ugh," you muttered under your breath, raising your hands to your face and giving your cheeks a few light slaps in an attempt to reset your mind. The slight sting helped—a little.

"You alright, little kitten?" Yasufumi's voice cut through your thoughts, his tone teasing but tinged with genuine concern. You glanced up at him from your seat, his tall frame leaning casually against the backrest of the row in front of you.

"Yeah, I'm alright. Just... nostalgic, I guess," you replied, your gaze shifting out the window to the passing scenery. Familiar landscapes blurred together, the sights of Miyagi stirring up more memories than you'd prepared for.

"Mmm, well, it has been a while since you've been here, I admit." Yasufumi said, his voice gentler now. "Do you remember when I would bring you to the fields and there you would play for hours on end with little Keishin?" He asked but you didn't respond. He studied you for a moment longer but didn't press further when you only hummed in response. Sensing that you weren't in the mood to talk, he leaned back into his seat, his presence steady and reassuring even in silence.

The bus ride passed quicker than you expected, and before long, the vehicle slowed to a stop in front of Karasuno's gym. Excitement buzzed through the air as the boys practically leaped out of their seats, spilling out of the bus in a chaotic flurry of chatter and energy. They raced ahead, eager to see the gym and meet their opponents.

You, on the other hand, lingered behind. There were checks to be made—bags to ensure no one had left behind, equipment to double-check. Routine tasks you clung to as a way to steady your nerves. As you stepped off the bus, your gaze fell on the gym standing proudly before you. The sight of it made your heart race in a way you hadn't felt in years. It's just a gym, just a gym, you repeated to yourself, over and over again, though deep down, you knew it wasn't true.

It wasn't just a gym. It was the gym. The place where everything had unraveled, where your friendship with Keishin had ended. The weight of the past hung heavy in the air, and you swallowed hard, trying to push it down. 

"You coming, little kitten?" Yasufumi's voice pulled you out of your spiraling thoughts once more. He was standing near the entrance, one hand casually resting on the doorframe as he waited for you. "We need to go meet the coaches and the team. They're waiting for us."

You blinked a few times, shaking your head as though to clear it. "Y-Yeah, sorry. I'm coming," you said quickly, though your feet remained rooted in place. "Just... give me a minute."

Yasufumi raised an eyebrow, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern. "You sure you're alright, Y/N?" he asked, his tone softer now.

"O-Of course I am," you replied, waving a hand dismissively. "Why wouldn't I be? Like I said, I just need a minute."

He studied you for another moment, then shrugged. "Alright, but don't dawdle. The match should be starting soon, and I don't want you to miss any of it. Maybe go rince your face under cold water. You've got to have fresh eyes to analyse." he said with a smile, giving your shoulder a light tap before heading inside.

As you watched him disappear through the entrance, you let out a shaky breath. Once again, your hands found their way to your face, palms pressing against your cheeks. The sting of your earlier slap had faded, but you gave yourself another gentle smack for good measure.

"Pull yourself together, Y/n." you muttered to yourself.

Everything was fine. It was eight years ago. It was all in the past. You weren't that naive teenager anymore. You were here as a coach, as a leader. Whatever had happened back then had no bearing on today. You would never see him again, anyway, so why were you stressing so much? With a deep breath, you squared your shoulders, forcing yourself to stand tall.

You took one last look at the gym, its familiar façade staring back at you like a challenge. Then, with purpose in your step, you began walking toward the entrance where some members were gathered.

As you walked closer to the cluster of boys gathered near the entrance of the gym, their voices became clearer, and snippets of their conversation drifted to your ears. It seemed that some of the boys from your team were already mingling—or rather, arguing—with members of Karasuno's team. You sighed softly, your instincts telling you that this was likely going to require your intervention. Typical.

"Why didn't you tell me you were in Nekoma?" a high-pitched, eager voice piped up. The speaker was a short boy with bright orange hair whose energy seemed boundless, his movements jittery with excitement.

"Well, you never asked," came Kenma's monotone response. His voice was calm and low, just as you'd expect from him. He was always so composed, even when faced with hyperactive personalities like this orange-haired boy.

"But you said, 'See you soon.' You must've known something!" the orange-haired boy accused.

Kenma shrugged shyly, his golden eyes half-lidded as usual. "Your T-shirt said 'Karasuno High School.'" His reply was as blunt as ever, leaving the boy momentarily dumbfounded as he processed the simple explanation.

The orange-haired boy's face flushed as if he'd just realized how obvious that detail had been all along. "Oh... right." He scratched the back of his head awkwardly, but before he could say more, another presence entered the scene—a familiar one. And not in the reassuring way.

"Hey, hey, hey," Taketora's voice boomed across the small crowd, dripping with his usual bravado. He stepped forward, shoulders squared and chest puffed out, exuding an exaggerated sense of menace. "What business might you have with our setter?" His eyes narrowed, practically daring the orange-haired boy to respond.

The poor kid jumped back, startled by Taketora's sudden intrusion. His nervous energy doubled, and he stammered out, "S-Sorry! I didn't mean..." But before he could finish, he stumbled backward into another figure—a broad-shouldered boy with a shaved head who had been standing nearby, observing the exchange. The newcomer turned, and his posture immediately mirrored Taketora's aggressive stance.

"You too," the shaved-head boy growled, stepping forward to match Taketora's energy. "What business might you have with our first-year?" His tone was sharp, and his glare was intense.

Taketora's eyes locked onto the boy like a predator sizing up its prey. "Is there a problem?" he challenged, his voice dropping an octave. He stepped closer, the tension between the two palpable.

The shaved-head boy's lips curled into a smirk, clearly unafraid. "Wanna fight, city boy?" he shot back.

And there it was—the inevitable clash of fiery egos. You groaned inwardly, already predicting where this was heading. Taketora's temper was as volatile as ever, and now it had found a perfect match in this Karasuno player. The air practically crackled with the defying challenge between the two boys.

Before things could escalate further, a voice broke through the tension. "We're going to 'fight,' alright. That's why we're here: to play the match." came the smooth interjection from a tall, silver-haired boy from Karasuno. His tone was cool and grounded, instantly diffusing some of the heat. "And stop the 'city boy' thing. It's embarrassing."

"Yamamoto, you're always so quick to pick a fight," came another voice, this time from Yaku. He crossed his arms and shot Taketora a pointed look. "Stop it. It makes you look stupid."

Both Taketora and the shaved-head boy flinched slightly at the reprimands, their fiery auras dimming. They muttered half-hearted apologies, though their pride was clearly bruised. You couldn't help but chuckle softly to yourself, appreciating the more level-headed boys stepping in to mediate. At least not everyone was ready to turn this into a street brawl.

Finally deciding to intervene, you approached the group, your footsteps light but purposeful. The moment your presence registered, the boys quieted down and turned to look at you. "They're right, you know?" you said, your voice calm yet firm. "If you want to fight, do it on the court. That's why we're here." Your smile was gentle as you placed a hand on Taketora's shoulder, and then on the shaved-head boy's, grounding them both.

Just as the tension seemed to dissipate, a sudden gasp drew your attention. You turned to see two boys from Karasuno staring at you with wide, disbelieving eyes. One had silver hair, his mouth slightly agape, while the other had sharp black hair and looked equally shocked.

"Oh my god," the silver-haired boy finally said, his voice brimming with awe. "I can't believe it..."

"It can't be..." the black-haired boy muttered, his brows furrowing in concentration as if he were trying to confirm something.

And then, before you could react, the two of them bolted forward, stopping mere inches from you. The silver-haired one pointed at you dramatically, his expression now alight with excitement. "Are you y/n Nekomata?! The y/n Nekomata, silver medalist in the last Olympics?!" he practically shouted, his hand hovering as though he wanted to touch your arm but didn't dare.

Overwhelmed by the sudden proximity, you stepped back slightly, your cheeks flushing. "I-uh..." you stammered, a nervous laugh escaping you as you tried to process the abrupt attention.

Before you could answer, an all-too-familiar, exaggerated laugh sounded from behind you.

"That's right!" Taketora announced, stepping into view with an air of theatrical smugness. He paused for dramatic effect, folding his arms across his chest. "And she's our new coach."

The silver-haired boy and his black-haired companion both exploded in unison. "WHAT?!" Their combined voices echoed through the gym entrance, drawing curious glances from other players. Their astonishment was written all over their faces as they gaped at you like you were some kind of deity.

Before you could respond, another boy—the shaved-head one from earlier—pushed forward, his voice just as loud and incredulous. "You have a female coach?!" His eyes locked onto yours, and for a brief moment, your heart skipped and your eyes widened. Your lips parted before you even realized you were speaking.

"K-Keishin?" You jumped as the name slipped out, soft but audible enough to catch his attention. 

The boy frowned, tilting his head in confusion. "Uh... my name's Ryuunosuke Tanaka," he corrected, his brows knitting together.

You blinked rapidly, shaking your head as you tried to recover. "R-Right, right. Sorry," you said quickly, forcing a nervous laugh. "I-uh...You just... you look a lot like someone I used to know."

God, you really were out of it today. You needed to get a grip on yourself.

Thankfully, Tanaka seemed to brush off your mistake almost immediately, his attention already shifting as he leaned closer with an eager grin. "Wow, a real Olympic player as a coach? That's insane!" he said, his voice filled with admiration.

"What made you come back?" the silver-haired boy asked eagerly.

"How did you make it to the Olympics?" the black-haired one added, his curiosity evident.

"You're so pretty," Tanaka blurted, his eyes practically sparkling as he looked at you.

Before you could even think of how to respond to the barrage of questions and comments, Taketora interjected with his usual possessive energy. "Alright, that's enough! Leave our coach alone!" he barked, stepping between you and the Karasuno boys like a guard dog.

The Karasuno boys immediately flinched, bowing their heads in apology. "Sorry! We didn't mean to be rude!" they chorused, though their excitement still lingered in their eyes.

And then, the orange-haired boy bounced forward again, his enthusiasm undeterred. "I can't believe I'm meeting a real professional volleyball player! My name's Hinata Shoyo! What's your name?" he asked, practically vibrating with excitement.

You opened your mouth to answer, but before you could get a word out, the black-haired boy smacked Hinata on the back of the head. "You idiot! Don't ask for her name when you should already know it! She's one of the best female volleyball players out there!" he scolded, his tone both exasperated and reverent.

Hinata rubbed the back of his head, tears springing to his eyes. "Hey! That hurt, Kageyama!" he whined.

You couldn't help but laugh softly, raising a hand to calm the group down. "Okay, okay, how about we all calm down and head inside the gym?" you suggested gently. "I'll answer all your questions on the way."

The boys immediately perked up at your words, cheering as they began to file into the gym. You followed them, shaking your head with a small smile. They were going to be a handful, no doubt about it.

You stepped through the wide double doors of the gym, the familiar squeak of your sneakers against the polished floor echoing faintly. The excited energy inside was palpable—players from both teams bustled about, setting up the court with precision and a touch of chaotic enthusiasm. The sharp clatter of volleyballs bouncing on the hardwood floor blended with the steady hum of voices, filling the gym with a lively rhythm.

Trailing behind you were Hinata, Kageyama, Sugawara, and Tanaka, their barrage of questions incessant yet endearing. Their words spilled over one another in a tangled mess of curiosity and awe, their faces lit up as if meeting a celebrity for the first time. "Did you really spike over a triple block in the finals?" "How fast can you serve?" "Can you really jump higher than 60 centimeters?"

You held up your hands, laughing softly as you turned to face them. "Alright, alright, I promise I'll answer everything later. For now, I need to check in with Nekomata."

They halted reluctantly, watching you with wide eyes as you jogged across the gym, your strides confident yet light, like someone stepping into a past they hadn't quite reconciled with. Your hair swayed with each step, catching the fluorescent light, and the faint trace of your laughter lingered in the air. The Karasuno boys stood frozen for a moment, exchanging glances before Hinata's astonishment burst forth.

"How is this even possible?" he exclaimed, spinning around to face Kenma, who had been standing quietly nearby. The Nekoma setter barely glanced up from the phone in his hand, his usual calm expression unruffled.

"Huh?" Kenma said absently, then sighed as he pocketed his phone. "Oh, you mean that she's our coach? She's Coach Nekomata's granddaughter. She used to go to Nekoma, too." His voice was nonchalant, but the revelation hit Hinata, Kageyama, and Sugawara like a thunderbolt.

"No way!" Kageyama blurted, his jaw dropping. Sugawara's hand flew to his chest, as if he needed to physically steady himself from the shock.

"She went to Nekoma?! And now she's coaching? But she's so—"

"Cool!" Hinata finished for him, his eyes practically sparkling as he stared after you.

Before their thoughts could spiral any further, a familiar voice cut through their chatter like a whistle signaling the start of a set. "Hey, what's going on here? Why aren't you helping the others setting up the court?" Ukai's voice carried the no-nonsense tone of someone who'd dealt with enough shenanigans for a lifetime. He approached the group, his brow furrowed, his sharp gaze darting between the guilty faces of his players.

The boys spun around, practically colliding with one another in their haste to reach him. Their animated gestures and overlapping voices created a chaotic blur as they surrounded their bewildered coach.

"Coach! Why didn't you tell us?!"

"Yeah, why didn't you say anything?!"

Ukai took a cautious step back, his confusion mounting with every second. His eyes flicked to Takeda, who stood nearby, equally perplexed. "What the hell are you boys talking about?" Ukai demanded, his tone sharp but laced with growing intrigue.

Hinata bounced on the balls of his feet, his words tumbling out in an excited rush. "Why didn't you tell us that Nekoma's new coach is a former Olympic player?!"

Ukai froze, the words landing with a weight he hadn't anticipated. His brows knit together as he processed the information. An Olympic player? A former player on the boy's team from Nekoma? His mind raced, trying to piece together the puzzle. How could he have missed that? He usually always watched the olympics. His gaze darted to Takeda, who could only shrug helplessly, equally in the dark.

"Oh wow! I didn't know that! He must be a very skilled player then." Takeda said with a smile but the boys knit their eyebrows in confusion.

"I—" Ukai began, but before he could formulate a response, Tanaka's voice cut through, brimming with dramatic flair.

"Yeah! But more importantly," Tanaka's tone grew thick with emotion as he stepped forward, his hands clutching his chest. "How could you not tell us she was this beautiful?!" His voice cracked with an almost comedic reverence as he threw his head back in mock agony. "Takeda, why didn't you also bring us a female coach?" He cried.

Ukai's jaw tightened as he knit his eyebrows together, the words of Tanaka confusing him even more. "Wait, she?" He asked to Tanaka but his mind was already racing. A woman, a former student at Nekoma and an Olympic player? Who could it-

His eyes suddenly widened in realisation.

Takeda, completely oblivious to the undercurrent of tension, gestured animatedly toward the approaching duo. "Oh look, Ukai! Coach Nekomata is coming this way! And, apparently, the former Olympic player too, haha."

His gaze slowly lifted, as though in slow motion, as it lander directly on you. You were walking alongside Coach Nekomata, talking to him, your movements imbued with a grace that hadn't faded with time. 

But before he knew it, Ukai's breath caught in his throat as your head turned and his eyes locked with yours. The recognition in your gaze mirrored his own—a potent mix of surprise, disbelief, and horror.

A single, precise word slipped from both your lips, spoken in perfect unison, tinged with equal parts dread and resignation:

"Oh, fuck."

***

 

Chapter 5: Friendly Match

Chapter Text

The two of you stood like statues, rooted to the polished floor of the gym, your gazes locked in a silent clash. The world around seemed to fade into a blur of indistinct noise and movement, leaving only the sharp awareness of each other's presence. Ukai's amber eyes were wide, betraying a mixture of shock and horror, and you knew your expression mirrored his. The tension in the air was almost tangible, crackling like static electricity, as the seconds dragged into what felt like an eternity.

The gym's ambient sounds began to filter back in—the faint squeak of sneakers, the dull thuds of volleyballs being tested, murmured conversations—but they seemed distant, like a soundtrack to someone else's world. Some of the Karasuno boys, clustered right in between, exchanged uncertain glances, their curiosity palpable. They shifted awkwardly, their gazes flickering between you and Ukai, trying to decode the sudden awkward tension they couldn't ignore.

Finally, the silence was broken—not by you or Ukai, but by the irrepressible Hinata. "Oh my god! Coach Ukai, do you already know her—" he blurted, his voice rising with excitement. Before he could finish, Kageyama clamped a hand over his mouth, his eyes wide with panic as he dragged the smaller boy backward. Hinata flailed, his muffled protests unintelligible, but Kageyama's grip was unrelenting.

"Come on, let's just go." Kageyama muttered gruffly, his ears tinged red as he hustled Hinata toward the court setup. The other Karasuno members took the chance to escape, scattering with murmured excuses to avoid the thick awkwardness lingering in the air. In moments, the gym floor cleared, leaving only your grandfather, Ukai, Takeda, and you standing amidst the echoing space.

Takeda, ever the diplomat, cleared his throat nervously, stepping forward to break the ice. "Hello, Mr. Nekomata, sir. I'm Ittetsu Takeda," he began, bowing slightly as he approached your grandfather. "We spoke on the phone earlier. Thank you very much for engaging us today."

The polite introduction jolted you and Ukai from your stunned states, both of you blinking as if awakening from a shared trance. Nekomata chuckled, his weathered face crinkling with amusement. "Ah, yes, Takeda-san. You barraged me with calls until I had no choice." he said with a sly grin.

Takeda's eyes widened, and he began bowing repeatedly. "I-I'm so sorry if I was pushy! I didn't mean to—"

Nekomata waved him off with a hearty laugh. "I'm just kidding, just kidding! We've had good practice matches these last three days. We're looking forward to today's match." he said warmly.

Relieved, Takeda straightened, nodding eagerly. "Yes, we are as well! Thank you for having us."

"Even though my opponent isn't that geezer Ukai, I'll show no mercy." Nekomata quipped, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

Ukai flinched at the jab, his lips pressing into a thin line, while Takeda stammered nervously. "Oh, um, of course! We wouldn't expect anything less!" he managed, trying to match Nekomata's tone.

The older man's expressionthen softened as he gestured toward you. "Ah, I realized I haven't introduced you to Nekoma's new talented coach and I hope my future successor." Turning to you, he smiled proudly. "Takeda, this is Y/n Nekomata, my granddaughter."

Takeda's jaw dropped. "Granddaughter?! W-Wow, I mean, I didn't expect it. It's very nice to meet you." he said, stepping forward to shake your hand. "And from what I heard, you're a pretty girl—I-I mean, p-pretty good at volleyball! Oh no, I-I'm so sorry." His cheeks flared red as he retracted his hand, flustered beyond measure.

You chuckled softly, your voice tinged with amusement. "Don't worry about it. It's nice to meet you too, Takeda."

Takeda's blush deepened at your smile, and he quickly retreated to stand beside Ukai, who watched the interaction with a barely concealed expression of disgust. He muttered something under his breath, earning a sharp glance from you.

"Well, I certainly didn't expect to see you here, Keishin!" Nekomata's voice boomed, drawing Ukai's attention. "What a nice surprise!"

Ukai tensed, caught off guard by the direct address. "It's-uhm...nice to see you too, sir." he replied stiffly.

"Ah, stop the formalities, Keishin. How long have we known each other now? Call me Yasufumi." Nekomata chuckled.

"R-Right," Ukai said, shifting uncomfortably. His gaze flicked toward you, but you were pointedly looking elsewhere, doing your best to avoid acknowledging his presence. Maybe, just maybe, you could get through this day without addressing the awkward elephant in the room—

"I suppose I don't have to introduce you to Y/n." Nekomata continued, his tone light but full of mischief. "You already know her well."

Your heart sank as you inwardly cursed your grandfather's sense of humor. That old bastard knew exactly what he was doing. Ukai's eyes narrowed slightly, his expression souring. "Yeah, all too well, unfortunately." he mumbled bitterly.

The words stung, and you turned sharply to meet his gaze, your eyes narrowing. This bitch. Okay, if he wanted to play it that way, you were not going to back down.

"Keishin, long time no see," you said, stepping forward. Your smile was all teeth and no warmth. "I'd say it's nice to see you, but I'd be lying."

Ukai returned your smile with a smirk of his own, stepping closer. "Y/n, showing your devil face after eight years and somehow managing to come back at the most inconvenient time. It's always a pleasure to see you keeping up the tradition of being a pain in my ass."

Your eyes gleamed as you tilted your head. "Oh, Keishin, the only tradition I'm keeping up with is the one of the Ukai family losing."

The verbal jabs continued, each exchange laced with sharp wit and underlying animosity, until Takeda hesitantly leaned toward Nekomata. "Um, what's going on between those two?" he whispered.

Nekomata chuckled, shaking his head. "Don't know. It's always been a dance with these two." He sighed as finally, Nekomata clapped his hands together. "Alright, let's get this match started, everyone!" His voice cut through the tension, drawing everyone's focus.

You turned back to Ukai with one final jab. "I hope you still like losing. That's all you ever did in high school, after all." Your smirk was razor-sharp as you extended your hand.

Ukai's jaw tightened, but he took your hand and gave it a firm shake. "Just you wait. My team's going to crush yours."

"Mm, so confident and yet so wrong." Releasing his hand, you turned on your heel, heading toward the Nekoma side of the court. You waved dismissively over your shoulder. "May the best woman coach win, Keishin."

Ukai let out a low, frustrated growl, his shoulders tensing as his sharp eyes fixated on your figure settling onto the bench across the court. Every movement you made seemed deliberate, calculated, and annoyingly composed. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his jaw tightening as a wave of irritation washed over him. Why now? Why here?

"Um... are you okay?" Takeda's hesitant voice broke through the fog of Ukai's frustration. The assistant coach had approached cautiously, his expression a mix of curiosity and mild apprehension. He stopped a few steps away, as though afraid Ukai might lash out.

Ukai's head swiveled slowly toward Takeda, his glare sharp enough to make the man flinch. "Takeda!" he barked, his voice low but charged. "You said the new coach was a man!" Before Takeda could even think of a response, Ukai's hand shot out, grabbing the front of his shirt.

"I-I'm sorry!" Takeda stammered, his voice breaking slightly as Ukai's intense gaze bore into him. "I didn't know! I just... assumed!" His words tumbled out in a panicked rush. "It's not very common for boys' teams to have female coaches, so I thought..."

Ukai released him with a sharp exhale, his fingers unfurling as if forcing himself to let go. Takeda stumbled back, straightening his shirt as Ukai's attention snapped back to you. His eyes followed your every movement as you now stood, addressing your team with effortless confidence.

"Damn it," Ukai muttered under his breath, his lips curling into a scowl. Everything about the way you carried yourself infuriated him—the poised way you gestured to your players, the slight tilt of your head as you listened to their responses, the small, infuriating smile that hinted at self-assuredness.

"I'm... I'm sorry, Ukai," Takeda began, his voice softer now as he stepped closer, his curiosity getting the better of him. "Um... if I may ask? Did, uhm... did something happen between you two?"

Ukai sighed heavily, his head tilting back slightly as if trying to keep his composure. "The question isn't what happened," he grumbled, dragging a hand through his hair, "it's what didn't happen."

Takeda blinked in confusion, his eyebrows furrowing. Before he could press further, Ukai let out a groan of frustration, throwing his hands in the air. "Ugh, I can't believe she's back! After all these goddamn years, and she decides to waltz in now?! No, no, the universe is punishing me somehow. There's no other explanation."

Takeda frowned, tilting his head. "Oh, I see... she's an ex-girlfriend then?"

Ukai froze. His entire body stiffened as his eyes widened in absolute horror. "An ex?!" he choked out, the word sounding like it physically hurt him. He turned to Takeda, pointing an accusatory finger. "How dare you? Me, with that horrible witch?! Nuh-uh! No way in hell!" His voice had risen several octaves, drawing the attention of a few players nearby. They quickly pretended not to notice.

Takeda took a step back, raising his hands in a placating gesture. "I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean to be rude by asking that!"

Ukai waved him off, though his gaze remained locked on you. "She's an old acquaintance, that's all." he bit out. "We used to be... friends before I found out she was a backstabbing..." He paused, searching for the right word. "Bitch," he finally muttered, though his tone lacked venom, replaced instead with an air of long-held resentment.

Takeda's curiosity only deepened. He raised an eyebrow. "What did she do?"

Ukai shook his head, his lips pressing into a thin line. "Now's not the time," he said, his voice tight. He squared his shoulders, letting out a sharp exhale. "I've got a match to win... and rub in her face." Without another word, he turned on his heel and began striding toward the middle of the court, his energy suddenly renewed.

Takeda lingered behind, his gaze drifting back to you. You were now laughing softly at something one of your players had said, your expression warm and genuine. "Mm..." Takeda mused aloud, scratching the back of his head. "I mean, she doesn't look particularly... evil to me?"

At those words, Ukai spun around so fast Takeda almost yelped. The coach's eyes were wild, his expression a mix of exasperation and disbelief. "That's exactly how she deceives people!" he bellowed, pointing a dramatic finger at Takeda. "Do better, Takeda! Don't fall for her witchy spells!"

Takeda's mouth opened to respond, but Ukai had already turned back and was marching toward his team, shouting orders. Takeda let out a long sigh, rolling his eyes as he muttered to himself, "Witchy spells... really?"

At the same time, on the other side of the court, you stood surrounded by your team, a fierce determination etched into every line of your expression. Your posture was rigid, your arms crossed tightly against your chest as you spoke, your voice filled with a commanding energy that demanded attention. Each word came with the weight of your frustration, each syllable laced with your burning resolve.

"Alright, listen up," you began, your tone sharp and deliberate. "This isn't just a game. This is our chance to crush Karasuno, like the good old days. We've worked very hard this week to let this slip away. I want each of you to bring your absolute best. We're not just going to win—we're going to dominate." Your eyes burned as they swept across the eager faces of your players, your intensity pulling them in.

Yet even as you delivered your rallying speech, a storm churned inside you. Anger and disbelief bubbled beneath the surface, threatening to crack through your facade. Out of all the places in Miyagi, he had to be here. Here, right now, standing on the other side of the court, as Karasuno's coach of all things. The audacity. Didn't your grandpa say it was only Takeda managing the team? You had trusted his words, yet now... here he was.

Keishin Ukai. The name itself was enough to ignite your frustration, his mere presence rekindling emotions you didn't think you'd feel again in a long time. And yet, there he stood, arms crossed, his narrowed eyes fixed on you with that infuriating, smug expression—a look that spoke volumes without saying a word. It was as if the universe was conspiring against you, dragging him back into your life just to taunt you. What other explanation could there possibly be?

"Um... coach? Are you okay? You seem pretty angry all of a sudden." came Inuoka's tentative voice, pulling you from your spiraling thoughts. You blinked rapidly, your intense expression softening just slightly as you processed his words.

"Me? Angry?" you said, feigning a casual laugh that didn't quite reach your eyes. "Pfff, no way. I'm just... excited, that's all. This rivalry's been dormant for five years, and now we finally get to reignite it. But we need to win. No—we need to crush that team. Crush that egotistical son of a bitch." Your voice dipped with venom at the end, your fingers twitching slightly as you spoke.

The boys exchanged uncertain glances, a mixture of confusion and amusement spreading among them. It was Yaku who finally broke the silence, his voice hesitant but probing. "Do you... know the Karasuno coach personnally by any chance?"

You barely had time to formulate a response before your grandfather's voice cut through the air like a knife. "Know him? She and him were inseparable until high school! Even I still don't know what happened after that." Nekomata Yasufumi's tone was filled with unbridled glee, and the way his eyes sparkled suggested he knew exactly what he was doing. The boys let out a collective gasp of realization, the pieces of the puzzle clicking into place.

Your head snapped toward him, your cheeks flaming. "Grandpa!" you shouted, mortified, but he only grinned wider, clearly enjoying himself.

"I get it now!" Inuoka exclaimed, puffing out his chest like he'd just cracked a major case. "You guys dated in high school, and it ended badly. He's an ex you hate."

The sheer absurdity of the statement made your eyes widen in disgust, a sharp scoff escaping your lips. "Excuse me? Him? An ex?" You crossed your arms, leaning back slightly as if to put more distance between yourself and the idea. "Thanks, but I actually have good taste in men. And bleached hair over there is not it."

The boys burst into laughter, the tension momentarily lifting. Even Yaku couldn't suppress a snicker, though he quickly covered his mouth in an attempt to remain composed. The sound only fueled your irritation.

"Guys! This is not funny! Can't you see this monster hurt our precious and perfect coach?!" Taketora suddenly roared and everyone suddenly froze to look at him. "I mean, coach Y/n is the sweetest person we've ever met. I've never see her like this, so angry. That means, he must be a horrible person!" Taketora turned to face the other side of the court, his fists clenched as he dramatically rolled up his sleeves. "Don't worry coach. I'll make him taste my fists!" Before you could stop him, he was storming toward Ukai, his face a mask of righteous fury.

"Taketora!" you shouted, your voice cutting through the commotion as the others scrambled to hold him back. "I love your enthusiasm, but keep it for the match. What he did isn't important right now." You sighed as they dragged Taketora back to the group, his arms still flailing indignantly.

"What's important is that you win this match so I can rub it in his face." you declared, your voice dropping into a mischievous tone as a sly smile curved your lips. "You hear me?" But instead of the unified agreement you expected, the boys stared back at you with deadpan expressions, unimpressed by your obvious personal vendetta.

"Oh, come on! I'm not the only one here. You also want to win because of the rivalry with Karasuno. My rivalry just happens to be... older." You crossed your arms again, huffing as they continued to stare. Finally, with a dramatic sigh, you relented. "Fine. I'll buy you all ice cream after this, okay?"

At the mention of ice cream, their attitudes shifted immediately. A cheer erupted from the group, and they bolted onto the court with renewed enthusiasm, their earlier skepticism forgotten. You shook your head, exhaling as you made your way back to the bench. 

As you settled onto it, your grandfather eased into the seat beside you, his expression painted with that trademark knowing smile. The kind of smile that drove you up the wall when you were already annoyed.

"What?" you snapped, refusing to meet his gaze, your eyes firmly fixed on the court.

"Nothing, nothing," he chuckled, the sound light but undeniably teasing. "It's just funny to see him here, that's all." He muttered and the restraint in his tone only fanned the flames of your irritation. You whipped your head toward him, your sharp stare landing squarely on his unbothered face.

"Grandpa," you said, your voice dropping into a warning tone, "did you know about this?!"

Your body leaned forward, closing the distance as you slid closer, your expression tight with barely contained frustration. He raised his hands defensively, palms out, as if warding off a blow.

"No, no, I swear! I didn't know," he said hurriedly, his voice earnest but laced with amusement that he couldn't quite hide. You narrowed your eyes, studying his face for any crack in his denial. Finally, with a sigh, you relented and slid back to your original spot.

"When that guy with glasses called me, he said it was tough because he was new to all this and didn't have a proper coach yet," Nekomata explained, nodding toward the Karasuno bench where Takeda and Ukai sat. "Keishin must've joined somewhere in between."

You followed his gaze, your eyes locking briefly on Ukai before darting away. Just seeing him there, sitting so casually, was enough to make your blood simmer. Your fists clenched involuntarily, nails digging into your palms.

"Mm," you muttered, voice low and brimming with resolve, "I'm going to make him regret that decision. Nekoma is going to humiliate Karasuno so badly he'll go home crying and never step foot in a gym again!"

Your grandfather raised an eyebrow, his expression a mixture of amusement and disbelief. "You're a little crazy, you know that?"

You scoffed, throwing him a sharp side-eye. "Pff, I'm not crazy. He is." You jerked your chin subtly toward Ukai, your gaze darkening. "He's probably thinking the exact same thing right now."

Nekomata's brow furrowed slightly as he glanced back at Ukai, then returned his attention to you. "Really? And how do you know that?" he asked, unconvinced but curious.

You turned back your head to the court, an annoyed expression on your face. "Because I'm thinking it." you said simply, your tone frustrated.

Nekomata blinked, taken aback for a moment, before his expression softened into an exasperated chuckle. Shaking his head, he muttered under his breath, "Kids these days."

Before you could snap back with a retort, the referee's whistle cut through the gym, followed by his booming voice. "Alright! Let the match begin!"

Your focus snapped forward, your back straightening as your eyes honed in on the players taking their positions on the court. Your initial anger simmered down, replaced by the sharp intensity of competition. Then, something caught your eye. The orange-haired boy on Karasuno's side, #10, was standing in the middle blocker position. You frowned, confusion knitting your brows.

"Hinata, wasn't it?" you muttered under your breath. "He's... a middle blocker?"

You barely had time to puzzle over the oddity when the ball was served. It crossed the net and landed in Karasuno's territory. Almost instantly, Kageyama moved to set it, his motion fluid and precise. Before you could fully process the play, Hinata exploded into motion. The diminutive player sprinted to the net, launched himself into the air with incredible speed, and slammed the ball over the net with a clean, forceful spike.

Your mouth fell open slightly, your breath catching in your throat.

"What the..." you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper.

Beside you, Nekomata was equally stunned. "What the heck was that?" he said, his voice louder, tinged with disbelief.

"Hinata wasn't even watching the set..." you murmured, still processing what you had just witnessed. The timing, the speed—it was almost unnatural. Your eyes drifted back to Kageyama, the Karasuno setter, as a faint sense of unease settled in your chest.

Across the court, Ukai's laughter rang out, low and satisfied. You glanced over to find him grinning broadly, his gaze locked on you. The smug bastard.

The game continued, Karasuno scoring point after point with that same relentless speed and precision. Your hands tightened into fists, your nails biting into your palms. On the other side, Ukai's grin only grew wider, the satisfaction evident in the way he leaned back, exuding confidence.

Finally, Nekomata shot to his feet, his hand raised sharply into the 'time out' position. "This is ridiculous." Nekomata muttered, his tone low but filled with a simmering frustration. The referee's whistle echoed through the gym, and your players jogged over, forming a tight huddle around you and Nekomata.

Then, he started talking, "Their libero and spikers are solid, but that setter..." He paused, his eyes narrowing at Kageyama. "He's a monster. The speed, the control... it's like he's threading a needle every single time."

You nodded, arms crossed tightly over your chest. "So he's a genius. We can't help that" you said, your tone cutting. "But having a genius in their midst doesn't guarantee their victory." You smirked as you turned toward Kenma, who had been silently observing the court.

"If Shoyo is the heart of their offense," he began, "we'll cut him off. Shut him down, and their entire rhythm collapses." Kenma said, his eyes thoughtful as he began outlining a plan. Taketora raised a hand hesitantly.

"Wait," he said, looking around. "Who's Shoyo?"

"The speedy #10," Kuroo clarified, his tone laced with amusement.

"Well, in a matter of speaking," Nekomata continued, his expression sharpening, "that #9 and #10 are like a demon and his iron club. If we want to stop the demon, we start by taking away the club."

Kenma explained his plan in calm, measured tones, his words deliberate and precise. The team listened intently, nodding in understanding as the strategy began to take shape. By the time the referee's whistle signaled the end of the time-out, your determination had crystallized into a sharp, focused resolve.

You and your grandfather walked back to the bench together, the weight of the game pressing heavily in the air around you. As you sat down, your gaze flickered briefly toward Ukai, who was already barking orders at his team.

The battle was far from over, and you weren't about to let him win.

The match continued, the court alive with the rapid, rhythmic thuds of sneakers against polished wood and the sharp, echoing slaps of the volleyball. Slowly but surely, Nekoma began to gain the upper hand. You leaned forward on the bench, eyes narrowing as you focused on Kenma. Despite his reserved demeanor, his sharp mind was always a step ahead. The way he observed the opposition, calculating every movement and anticipating every play, was a marvel—the quiet genius behind Nekoma's rising momentum.

Kenma's strategy was working. Nekoma's players adapted, their movements smooth and calculated as they began to predict Karasuno's plays. The whistle blew sharply, signaling the end of the set. You rose from the bench, a triumphant cheer escaping your lips as Nekoma claimed victory for this round. Across the court, you caught sight of Ukai. His jaw was tight, frustration carving lines into his face. When your gaze met his, you couldn't help but smirk, the subtle gesture stoking the fire of his annoyance even further.

After a brief pause, the second set began. The game's pace quickened, the energy in the gymnasium surging as players from both teams gave it their all. Your satisfaction grew as you watched Inuoka begin to close the gap on Hinata's spikes. Each attempt came closer and closer, inching toward success with every pass. Finally, with a perfectly timed jump and block, Inuoka shut down Hinata's infamous quick attack. The gym erupted with cheers, and you were among them, your pride swelling as Nekoma's defense proved impenetrable. Kenma's prediction had been right on the money—Hinata's freak attack had been neutralized.

But as you scanned the court, you noticed something in Hinata's eyes. There was no defeat there, only determination. He was smiling. He wasn't done, not by a long shot. True to your instincts, his next spike attempt came with his eyes wide open, a clear sign he was trying something new. Yet, he failed. The ball veered off course, leaving him visibly frustrated. Ukai immediately called a time-out, urgency evident in his movements. The break was brief but effective. When the game resumed, you noticed Kageyama setting softer, more calculated balls for Hinata, giving him room to adjust. He failed again, and again, but with each attempt, he drew closer to success.

You couldn't help but watch Hinata with a mixture of frustration and fascination. That kid had something special—a spark that pushed him forward no matter the odds. Karasuno might have been struggling, but there was no denying the synergy among their players. They challenged Nekoma and vice verse, pushing each other to their limits, and even though they were losing, they played with an infectious energy that was hard to ignore. You smirked, acknowledging silently that this match was shaping up to be far more interesting than you had anticipated.

A chuckle pulled you from your thoughts, and you turned to see your grandfather leaning forward, a mischievous grin on his face as he taunted Ukai. "Looks like your boys are struggling, Keishin!" Nekomata called out, his voice dripping with playful mockery. You couldn't help but join in, your laughter blending with your grandfather's. Across the court, Ukai's shoulders tensed as he let out a groan of frustration. His narrowed eyes flicked toward you briefly before he turned to confer with Takeda, clearly trying to regroup.

The game resumed, and for a while, it seemed like everything was going your way. But then Ukai stood up abruptly, his voice cutting through the noise of the gymnasium like a blade. "Pound them with your power and speed!" he shouted. His players turned to him, some with confused expressions, but Tanaka caught on immediately, a sly grin spreading across his face.

"In other words, force them to surrender?" Tanaka smirked, his tone tinged with amused disbelief.

"That's kind of villainous." Hinata muttered, earning a laugh from Ukai.

"Villainous, huh? That's fine!" Ukai said, his voice carrying an undeniable intensity. He turned his gaze directly to you, a smirk that was equal parts challenging and infuriating tugging at his lips. "Crows are kind of villainous, aren't they?"

You bristled, but before you could retort, he continued addressing his team. "We'll make up for our lousy quicks and receives with sheer brute force. You guys are awkward and rough, so use that as your weapon! Wield your weapons with all your might! Attack, attack, and keep on attacking!"

The energy on Karasuno's side shifted instantly. Their players attacked with renewed vigor, closing the gap in the score. Before long, they had climbed to 20 points, just two points behind Nekoma. Nekomata quickly called for a time-out, gathering the team in a tight circle.

"You guys aren't panicking, are you?" he asked, his tone calm but firm. The players responded in unison, "No, sir!"

He nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Good. Keep your connections solid."

"Yes, sir!" they echoed, their determination unwavering as they returned to the court.

The match resumed, the final moments an intense back-and-forth. Both teams fought with everything they had, the score climbing neck and neck. Your heart pounded in time with the game's frantic rhythm, every rally leaving you on edge. And then, in one critical moment, the ball slipped through Karasuno's defense. It hit the floor on their side of the court, just out of reach of their diving players.

The gym fell silent for a heartbeat before erupting in cheers. Nekoma had won.

***

 

Chapter 6: Nicknames

Chapter Text

The gym echoed with cheers as you rushed onto the court, a surge of pride and excitement coursing through you. Your players gathered around, sweat-soaked and triumphant, their expressions alight with victory. Without hesitation, you pulled each of them into a tight embrace, your voice ringing out over the noise.

"I'm so proud of you, guys!" you exclaimed, squeezing each player tighter than the last. Their laughter filled the air, mixing with the thunder of applause.

When you reached Kenma, he barely had time to react before you placed a kiss on his cheek in the heat of the moment. The quiet setter froze, his pale face rapidly turning crimson as his hand hovered awkwardly near the spot where your lips had landed. His golden eyes widened, and he blinked rapidly, clearly at a loss for words.

Taketora and Kuroo, however, were not so stunned. They immediately darted toward him, mock outrage and jealousy plastered on their faces.

"Give us your secrets, Kenma!" Taketora hollered, his voice rising above the commotion.

"Yeah, what's your trick?! Spill it!" Kuroo added, his grin mischievous as he shook Kenma.

You chuckled as you made your way your way back to the bench, your heart swelling with pride and satisfaction. Settling down beside your grandfather, you glanced over at Keishin, unable to resist shooting him a victorious grin. His face was a mask of frustration, his jaw tight as he stared at the court, refusing to meet your gaze. The sight sent a wave of amusement through you.

But then, a voice cut through the celebratory din, loud and unwavering.

"One more time! Let's play again!" Hinata's shout reverberated across the gym, pulling everyone's attention. The boy's eyes blazed with determination, his energy seemingly boundless despite the grueling match. His teammates turned to him, all stunned expression on their faces.

Your grandfather chuckled, his voice warm and nostalgic. "Yeah, I was planning on it. That's what practice matches are for, after all. So you can do it one more time." He nodded, his gaze softening as he looked toward the eager orange-haired boy.

Keishin turned to you then, his expression darkened with resolve. "This time, I'll defeat you." he declared, his tone carrying a challenge that was impossible to ignore.

You let out a soft laugh, leaning back against the bench with an air of confidence. "Keep on dreaming." you shot back, a playful smirk tugging at your lips.

And so, the second match began. Hours stretched on as the sun inched lower in the sky, casting golden beams through the gym windows. Match after match played out, each one a testament to the teams' determination and skill. Yet, despite Karasuno's relentless efforts, victory remained just out of their grasp. Nekoma claimed each win, solidifying their dominance, much to your satisfaction.

As the referee's whistle signaled the end of the final match, the last rays of sunlight bathed the gym in a warm glow. The players sprawled on the court, exhausted and drenched in sweat, their labored breaths filling the silence that followed the whistle's sharp call. Even now, Hinata's voice broke through, his enthusiasm unyielding.

"One more match!" he yelled, his arms flailing as he turned to his coach. But Ukai had had enough. With a firm grip, he hoisted the smaller boy up by the back of his shirt, shaking his head.

"That's enough for today." Ukai said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The teams took a short break to catch their breath before approaching their respective benches. Karasuno gathered around you and Yasufumi, their expressions a mix of exhaustion and anticipation. Yasufumi's gaze swept over them, his smile warm and inviting as he began to speak.

"You know, your granddad's coach and I go way back. We had countless practice matches over the years, and they were some of the best matches I've ever been a part of." he said, his voice rich with fondness. "But when Ukai retired, those matches came to an end. I told myself it would be fine, that we could find other teams to spar with, but a good rival is hard to find."

He paused, his gaze flickering to Keishin, who was in animated conversation with Nekoma's players. "When the old man made a comeback, I thought we'd have our rivalry back. But then he collapsed again, and I was worried Karasuno might never rise again."

Turning back to the team, Yasufumi's smile grew. "But you—your abilities have exceeded my expectations. Especially on offense. Those quicks between #9 and #10? Incredible. Absolutely unstoppable."

Tanaka and Asahi straightened at the compliment, grins breaking across their faces.

"You two on the left—you're both powerful weapons," Yasufumi added, his tone filled with admiration. His attention shifted to Nishinoya, whose intense focus hadn't waned despite the day's fatigue. "And you, you just need to work on keeping connected with the rest of your team."

Nishinoya nodded vigorously, his determination palpable.

Yasufumi's gaze softened as he looked at the group as a whole. "As a team, you're rough around the edges, and your training has a ways to go. But your potential? It's overwhelming. With time and effort, you'll only get stronger. Watching you play makes me happy."

His eyes drifted toward Nekoma's bench, where Ukai now stood, his expression thoughtful. "We finally have a good rival again." Yasufumi murmured, almost to himself.

Turning back to Karasuno, he smiled brightly. "Let's meet at nationals next time. In a huge gymnasium, in front of a roaring crowd, with stakes higher than ever before. The Decisive Battle at the Garbage Dump." His voice held a reverence for the moment, a promise of future battles. "Let's make it the best match ever."

The team erupted into cheers, their spirits reignited despite the day's losses. Then, slowly, their gazes turned to you, curiosity and something unspoken glimmering in their eyes as they regarded you with peculiar intensity.

Your eyes narrowed slightly, an eyebrow quirking up as you shifted your body, feeling the weight of their collective stares boring into you. It was an odd mixture of curiosity and hesitation, almost as though the boys were trying to decipher some unsolvable puzzle. The silence stretched just long enough to make you feel a twinge of awkwardness, and you finally broke it with a pointed remark, crossing your arms.

"If you've got something to say, just spit it out. I don't bite." you nervously laughed.

The team flinched as if caught red-handed, a couple of them exchanging sheepish glances. A brief pause followed before Hinata, in true Hinata fashion, blurted out the question burning in his mind without any regard for subtlety.

"What's going on between you and our coach?"

The question hung in the air like an explosive, and the immediate fallout was chaotic. The others scrambled to clamp hands over his mouth, shouting protests in overlapping voices. "Hinata, you idiot!" Kageyama barked, smacking the back of his head. Hinata winced, mumbling an apology through muffled words as he struggled under their collective restraint.

Despite the commotion, you couldn't help but laugh. It started as a small chuckle, but soon a genuine amusement overtook you. You raised your hands in surrender, waving them down. "You guys are seriously adorable," you teased, watching their faces collectively redden.

The group fidgeted, but the tension eased just a little as you continued. "As for your coach," you began, your tone growing more thoughtful as you glanced across the court. Your eyes found him standing near Takeda, his posture tense and his focus flickering toward you and the boys.

Turning back to the eager faces before you, you smirked lightly. "Let's just say we don't particularly like each other."

That was clearly not the answer they were expecting. Hinata tilted his head, blinking with confusion. "But why?" he asked again, his curiosity overriding any self-preservation instincts.

Kageyama groaned audibly, landing another smack on Hinata's head. "Hinata! You can't just ask that!"

You laughed harder this time, holding up a hand to stop them. "It's fine, it's fine. No need to start a brawl over it." Your expression softened as you met their gazes. "Honestly, it's nothing you kids need to worry about. Just... adult problems, I guess. Besides," you added with a small grin, "I think you should be focusing all your attention and energy on getting to nationals. I'm counting on you to be there, okay?"

The weight of your words was lightened by the teasing smirk that followed. "That way, we can crush you in public this time."

Their reactions were instantaneous, a mix of widened eyes and surprised laughter.

"Kidding," you added quickly, though the mischievous twinkle in your eye lingered. "Well, almost."

"We'll definitely be there this year, and we'll beat you!" Daichi said with quiet determination, his tone steady and resolute. His teammates echoed his sentiment with enthusiastic agreement.

"Can't wait," you replied, the amusement still evident in your voice.

As the group began to disperse, ready to regroup, Sugawara hesitated for a moment before stepping forward shyly. He held his phone out in front of him, his cheeks faintly pink.

"Would you... Would you mind if we took a picture together?" he asked hesitantly.

The request caught you off guard, your eyes widening slightly before a soft, genuine smile graced your lips.

"Of course," you said warmly, and Sugawara's face brightened instantly. He moved to stand beside you, handing you his phone. The two of you took the selfie, his grin beaming with joy as you handed the phone back.

But before you could step back, you noticed a ripple of movement around you. Slowly, the rest of the team began to gather, each of them clutching their phones with bashful yet hopeful expressions. Your smile turned nervous as the realization dawned on you.

"A-Alright then," you laughed, rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly. "Let's get those pictures in, huh?"

As you posed with each of them in turn, you could feel the novelty of the situation pressing on you. You weren't used to this level of recognition. Back in the United States, you'd had the occasional encounter with fans, but it had been rare. Now, surrounded by budding volleyball players who looked up to you, the attention felt... surreal. But their enthusiasm was contagious, and you found yourself relaxing more with each photo.

Across the court, Ukai finally wrapped up his conversation with Nekoma and while they were already dispersing to start cleaning the gym, he turned to look for his team. His expression twisted as he saw them all crowded around you, phones in hand. His eyes narrowed in disapproval, his frustration evident.

"Those little traitors." he muttered under his breath. Takeda, standing nearby, overheard him and turned with a curious look.

"Traitors? Who?" Takeda asked innocently.

Ukai pointed an accusatory finger toward the group. "Them! Look at them all fawning over her like she's some kind of celebrity. They didn't even ask for my picture. Now, that's what I call betrayal."

Takeda's response was a soft chuckle. "Could it be that the kids just want a picture with a professional player and Olympian? I mean, she's everything they aspire to be. I don't think it has anything to do with you."

Ukai's glare turned on him, his tone dripping with indignation. "Are you even on my side, Takeda?"

"Of course I am," Takeda replied, his tone patient and even. "But aren't you being a little... dramatic, perhaps?"

Ukai crossed his arms tightly, a deep scoff escaping him. "Me? Dramatic? Please! If you knew her like I do, you wouldn't say that."

Takeda gave him a pointed look, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. "Sure, whatever you say. But don't let this 'rivalry' interfere with the kids. That's all I'm asking."

Ukai shook off the hand with a determined scowl. "It won't. Because next time, we'll beat them for sure. And I'll finally show her that I'm better." The grin that followed was sinister, bordering on theatrical.

Takeda sighed heavily, "This is going to be complicated, isn't it?" he muttered under his breath as he walked away.

The cheerful chatter of the gym faded into quiet as the last of the students thanked you and dispersed to help clean. Smiling faintly, you rolled up your sleeves and joined your grandfather, Yasufumi, in tidying up. The scent of sweat and polished wood lingered in the air as the two of you moved efficiently through the space, collecting stray volleyballs and wiping down surfaces until the gym was pristine once more. Your grandfather hummed softly under his breath, a habit that always seemed to surface when he was satisfied with a job well done.

"All set?" you asked, casting a glance his way. 

He nodded, brushing off his hands. "Good work, kid."

You chuckled as he patting your shoulder affectionately before he walked into the corridor. Your eyes scanned the now-empty gym one last time and with a satisfied sigh, you turned off the lights, plunging the space into a hushed darkness broken only by the faint glow filtering through the high windows.

As you stepped into the corridor leading outside, you spotted your grandfather's familiar silhouette. He stood with his back to you, his posture relaxed but his head tilted in conversation. Intrigued, you quickened your pace, the echo of your footsteps bouncing off the walls.

"Hey, I checked everything. We're good to—" Your words trailed off as you stepped closer and saw who he was speaking to.

Standing across from Yasufumi were Ukai and Takeda. The sight of the Karasuno coach immediately sent a ripple of tension through you. Your gaze locked onto his, and for a long moment, the two of you simply stared, unspoken words simmering in the air. His sharp eyes narrowed, sending daggers like yours.

"Ah, Takeda," Yasufumi's warm voice broke the silence, pulling both you and Ukai from your silent battle. Takeda stepped forward, bowing deeply.

"Thank you for coming all this way for the match," he said earnestly, his voice filled with genuine gratitude.

Your grandfather smiled, waving a hand dismissively. "No, no, thank you. I should be the one thanking you for your persistence," he replied, a chuckle rumbling from his chest. Takeda straightened, looking slightly sheepish. "Since you have no connections, it must be hard for you to arrange games. All those calls you made to me..." Yasufumi trailed off with an amused glint in his eye. "You even threatened to come see me personally."

Takeda's face flushed crimson as he stammered out an apology.

"However," Yasufumi continued, his tone softening, "your enthusiasm stoked my enthusiasm. Even if you're a bit awkward, your students will follow you just the same. Do your best."

Takeda's eyes shimmered with emotion, and he bowed again, shouting, "Thank you very much!"

Yasufumi then turned his attention to Ukai, a fond smile tugging at his lips. "And you, it is really nice to see you again after all these years, Keishin. Do your best with these kids as well."

You couldn't hold back the smirk that spread across your face. "Yeah, especially since we played three matches today and you didn't win a single set."

Ukai's reaction was instant. He stiffened, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "I'll win them all the next time. Just you wait and see, Princess," he shot back, stepping forward with a challenging gleam in his eye.

Your eyes narrowed and you gritted your teeth. Princess, huh? It had been a while since you'd heard it and he knew exactly what he was doing. He had started calling you that in high school after your friendship fallout just to spite you. And even after all these years, you hated it just as much. However, two could play this game.

"Oh yeah? let's hope you're still not all talk, because right now, the matter of fact is that your losing streak is still intact, Egghead." you retorted, your voice laced with venomous satisfaction as you used the nickname you'd coined for him back in high school. His expression darkened immediately.

"You're gonna have to innovate. I've got hair now, princess." he countered smugly, running a hand through his blond locks.

You raised a brow, your smirk deepening. "Right, sorry, blondie. I was too blinded by the DIY discoloration to notice."

Ukai's jaw tightened, his teeth grinding audibly. "You little—" He took a step forward, but before things could escalate, both Yasufumi and Takeda intervened, placing firm hands on your respective shoulders.

"Alright, alright, that's enough, kids." Yasufumi sighed, his tone dripping with exasperation.

You stood still, your gaze still fixed on Ukai as you sighed. "Fine, let's just go home, Pop. That way I don't have to see your stupid face again." you muttered, brushing past the group and heading for the exit.

"Is that what you say to yourself every morning in front of the mirror?" Ukai laughed and you rolled your eyes.

"Only when I'm practicing how to be a clown like you." You replied, waving your hand as you kept walking.

"Maybe you should practice harder, then you'll finally understand what I felt like being your friend!" He shouted as he turned to the opposite direction, angrily walking away. "Takeda, let's call it a night."

"Actually...." Takeda cut through the tension. "there's a reservation at a restaurant in thirty minutes. For all of us." Takeda's hesitant voice stopped you both in your tracks.

Your head whipped around. "What?!" you and Ukai shouted in unison, the disbelief clear in your voices.

Ukai stormed back to Takeda. "You didn't tell me about this!" he barked.

Takeda raised his hands defensively. "We organized it this afternoon with Nekomata during one of the breaks. We thought it would be a fun activity for the students."

Your grandfather's expression was a mix of guilt and amusement as you gently pulled him aside. "Did you do this on purpose?" you whispered harshly, your eyes scanning his face for any hint of deceit.

"Well..." Yasufumi began, his tone evasive.

You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. "I can't believe this," you muttered, throwing your head back to glare at the ceiling. "Why must I be punished over and over?"

"Look," Yasufumi said, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder, "let's just go to the restaurant and have a good time. Who knows, maybe you and Keishin can... talk."

You pulled away, your expression incredulous. "You're unbelievable." you said, shaking your head.

"Honey, it's been eight years. I'm sure you can get past this."

"Were you there one minute ago?" You scoffed but he sighed.

"I just don't understand, y/n. You were such good friends. What happened between you two that justifies an eight years old vendetta?"

"I don't want to talk about it." You responded and he sighed.

"Look, can we at least go to the restaurant and enjoy the meal with everyone without anymore senseless feud between the two of you?" He raised an eyebrow.

Your gaze drifted to Ukai, who was still muttering angrily to Takeda. "Fine," you relented with a sigh. "I'll go to the restaurant, but you can't make me talk to him."

Without waiting for his response, you strode toward the exit. Behind you, Yasufumi watched, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips. He lingered for a moment before following, his footsteps unhurried as he stepped out into the golden light where the students waited.

***

 

Chapter 7: Challenge

Chapter Text

The sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky awash with deep purples and soft oranges as your group made its way to the restaurant. The streets were dimly lit by warm lamplight, and the students' chatter filled the cool evening air. You found yourself walking in the center of the pack, Karasuno's students clustering around you like moths drawn to a flame, their eager questions tumbling over one another. Despite their relentless curiosity, you smiled softly, answering each query with patience and sincerity. After all, you'd promised earlier.

"Miss Nekomata, is it true you started playing volleyball when you were, like, four years old?" Yamaguchi asked, his wide eyes shining with curiosity.

You chuckled softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. "Mm, yes. Though, I think I was closer to five." you replied, the corners of your mouth lifting. "My grandpa introduced me to the sport and taught me everything I know today."

The students nodded in collective awe, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of nostalgia at the memories.

At the back of the group, Keishin Ukai trailed behind with Takeda, his steps heavy, his hands stuffed into his pockets. His gaze, however, remained fixed on you, his eyes practically digging holes in your back. His brow was furrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line of frustration.

However, the sound of Takeda's voice broke through his brooding thoughts. "So," Takeda began, adjusting his glasses thoughtfully, "maybe I could try to arrange another practice match soon. I think regular matches would be good for the team's growth." He said before he lowered his head. "That is, if I can convince other schools to agree." He chuckled nervously, casting a glance at Ukai. "What do you think?"

Ukai barely acknowledged him, muttering an absent "Mm-hmm" without breaking his stare. Takeda furrowed his brow, glancing between Ukai and the group ahead.

"Ukai, are you even listening to me?" he asked, exasperation creeping into his tone.

But Ukai wasn't listening. His eyes narrowed as he observed the way his team hung on your every word, their faces lighting up with excitement. He let out a huff, finally voicing his irritation. "I don't get it."

"What are you talking about?" Takeda asked, tilting his head in confusion.

"Them," Ukai hissed, jerking his chin toward the students clustered around you. "They're fawning over her, feeding her already gigantic ego. I just don't get it. What could they possibly see in her?"

Takeda sighed, shaking his head. "Didn't we already discuss this, Ukai?"

Ukai scoffed. "No, no. This is different!" He said, his tone sharp. "Before, it was just the photos, but now look at them! They're completely mesmerized by her. Can't you see it? It's already starting. She's turning my own team against me, and it's all part of her plan to get ahead." His voice lowered conspiratorially, as though speaking the words aloud would make the supposed betrayal more real.

Takeda stared at him, incredulous. "Or," he suggested calmly, "they're just asking questions because she is an accomplished player, and she's being kind enough to answer."

Ukai let out a humorless laugh. "Don't patronize me, Takeda. I know exactly what she's doing."

Before Takeda could respond, Ukai pushed forward, weaving his way through the group until he was just behind you. He slowed his steps, just close enough to overhear the conversation without drawing attention to himself.

"Wow! That's amazing! I can't believe you've done all that, Miss Nekomata! I wish I could be like you!" Hinata's voice rang out, brimming with excitement. His wide grin was infectious as he gazed at you with unbridled admiration. Ukai rolled his eyes at the comment.

You chuckled, the sound light and genuine. "Thank you, Hinata. But honestly, from what I've seen today, you're more than capable of achieving just as much, if not more even. You'll surpass me in no time."

Hinata's eyes grew impossibly wide, his face lighting up with joy. "Really?!" he shouted, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet.

You nodded, your smile softening. "I have no doubts about it."

With that, he jumped high into the air, his feet leaving the ground with ease. His leap was so impressive that he rose a full head above you, and you let out a surprised laugh. "Still not used to it," you admitted, shaking your head in amazement as you saw him run to Kageyama just ahead to brag.

"Took me a while too." Sugawara added with a chuckle. "He's a ball of energy that never runs out. Always running, shouting, always asking for more. He's passionate about volleyball more than anything else in the world." He said, looking at Hinata talking with Kageyama.

"I can see that." You agreed.

A comfortable silence resonated. You looked ahead, at Karasuno's members with a soft smiled. They were good kids and good players with lots of potential. Too bad they had a douchebag for a coach.

While you were thinking, Sugawara was still walking beside you as he hesitated for a moment before speaking again. "Hey, can I ask you a question?"

You were brought out of your thoughts and turned your attention to him with an amused smile. "Besides the other ten you've already asked? Sure, go ahead." you teased, and he laughed nervously.

"I was wondering," he began hesitantly, his voice softening, "why did you come back now, when your career was at its peak? Was there a particular reason?"

The question caught you off guard, surprising you more than anything. Apparently, the news of your injury hadn't reached Japan yet. Your smile faltered for a brief moment, and your eyes widened slightly as you searched for the right words. At the same time, Ukai's ears perked up, his curiosity piqued. He leaned in slightly, his brow furrowing. That was the question. Why now after everything?

"A-Ah, I'm sorry! You don't have to answer that!" Sugawara stammered, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment. "I didn't mean to pry or anything."

You placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, your expression softening. "It's fine," you said quietly. Though your tone was calm, there was a flicker of sadness in your eyes that you tried to mask. Sugawara noticed but chose not to press further.

"I guess you could say I got homesick," you explained, half-lying, after a brief pause. "I missed my grandfather and... I missed home. It was time to come back."

Although your response seemed genuine, Sugawara couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to the story. Still, he chose not to press further, nodding instead. "I get it," he said softly. "I think I'd miss my family and friends too if I'd been gone for as long as you."

"Was it hard?" he asked after a moment's hesitation.

"What?" you asked, tilting your head.

"Was it hard to leave everything behind?" he clarified, his gaze earnest.

His question hit deeper than you expected, and for a moment, you didn't answer. Ukai leaned it closer. Your gaze drifted to the ground, the memories tugging at your chest. "Yeah," you admitted finally, your voice low. "It was. Leaving everything you've ever known behind isn't easy. I had to make some tough choices... sacrifices even."

Sugawara's expression softened, and you quickly tried to lighten the mood, glancing back up at him with a small smile. "But even though it was hard, I don't regret it. Not one bit. After all," you said, your tone brightening, "I got to live my dream."

"I see," Sugawara's face lit up with a smile of his own. "That's all that matters, then." he said warmly.

"Exactly," you replied, giving his shoulder a light pat.The tension eased, and the group continued on, their chatter filling the night once more.

From his spot behind you, Ukai crossed his arms, his expression frustrated. His gaze remained on you and his mind was swirling with questions of his own. However, whatever anger or confusion he felt remained unspoken, his thoughts turning inward as the restaurant came into view ahead and his eyes widened.

Finishing your conversation with Sugawara, you found yourself caught off guard when you bumped into Asahi. He had come to an abrupt stop in front of you, and you hadn't noticed.

"Oops, sorry about that, sweetie," you said softly, your voice light and warm. Asahi's cheeks turned a deep shade of red, and for a moment, he seemed to have forgotten how to form words. Daichi, ever the observant one, smacked him lightly on the back of the head, but you were too distracted to notice the interaction.

Your gaze had drifted, locking onto something ahead. Your breath hitched, the world around you momentarily falling away. The group had stopped walking, yet your focus was singular, your heart thudding in your chest as recognition struck. The restaurant stood before you, bathed in the soft glow of its lanterns, its exterior so achingly familiar that it felt like stepping back in time. You would recognize it anywhere, even after all these years. The wooden panels, the delicate paper lanterns swaying gently in the breeze, the faint hum of life coming from within—it was unchanged, a preserved relic of the countless evenings you had spent there. The memories came rushing back, vivid and relentless.

This was the restaurant your grandfather and the old Ukai would take you and Keishin to after matches. Whether the match had ended in celebration or consolation, this place had always been the constant. Each visit had been a ritual, a tradition carved into your childhood. And now, seeing it again, the familiarity was almost suffocating.

Your gaze discretely flickered to Keishin, and you saw the same shock mirrored in his expression. He stood still, his eyes fixed on the restaurant, his lips pressed into a thin line. His reaction was all the confirmation you needed. Turning your head sharply, you looked at your grandfather, who was watching you with an expression so innocent it was infuriating. His hands were clasped behind his back, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Your fists clenched at your sides as you gritted your teeth, the words spilling out before you could stop them. "That little—"

Takeda's voice cut through your frustration, cheerful and oblivious. "Alright, everyone! Let's go in and eat to our heart's content! You've all earned it!"

The students erupted into cheers, their energy contagious as they rushed toward the entrance, both teams vying to be the first inside. The excitement was palpable, but you remained rooted in place, your eyes locked on the restaurant's facade.

It was exactly as you remembered. The restaurant seemed frozen in the past, waiting for you to return. Yet, you couldn't help but wonder if the inside had remained the same.

A gentle pat on your shoulder pulled you from your thoughts. You turned to find your grandfather standing beside you, his smile disarmingly innocent as he gestured toward the door. "You coming?"

Your eyes narrowed, your composure barely holding. "You," you hissed through clenched teeth, your voice low enough to keep the conversation private. "You did this on purpose, you vicious monster."

He chuckled, the sound infuriatingly light. "Me? I don't know what you're talking about." he said, his tone dripping with mock innocence. His smile, however, betrayed his guilt.

You groaned in frustration, pinching the bridge of your nose. "Whatever you're trying to do, Grandpa, it won't work. Keishin and I stopped being friends a long time ago for good reasons."

He simply shrugged, his expression unchanging. "I'm not trying to do anything."

"I hate you, you know that?" you muttered, your voice tinged with exasperation as you finally started walking toward the entrance.

He followed close behind, his chuckle soft but triumphant. "I love you too."

The two of you were the last to step inside. The moment you pushed the door open, a wave of nostalgia crashed over you, nearly knocking the air from your lungs. The interior was just as you remembered. The warm, honey-toned wood lined the walls, polished smooth by years of care. Paper lanterns hung from the ceiling just like outside, casting a golden glow that made the room feel both intimate and expansive. The faint scent of grilled fish and miso soup lingered in the air, mingling with the hum of conversation and the soft clatter of dishes.

Tonight, however, the restaurant was empty, probably because of your reservation filling the entire small restaurant. All the tables had been pushed together to form one long banquet-style arrangement, perfectly accommodating your group. The sight tugged at something deep within you. You could almost hear the echoes of laughter, the clinking of glasses, the voices of your younger self and Keishin arguing over who would pay the bill.

The memories were vivid, almost tangible. You had been here countless times, not just with your grandfather and old man Ukai but alone with Keishin too. It had been a tradition, something the two of you had clung to as you grew older. Even when it wasn't about volleyball, you had come here after exams, after long days at school, or simply because it felt like home. The thought brought a lump to your throat, the weight of the past pressing heavily on your chest. The happiness this place had once represented was now inextricably tied to the pain of what had been lost.

You stood frozen in the doorway, taking it all in as the students excitedly found their seats. Your grandfather's voice broke through your reverie. "Come on, let's grab a seat before they eat everything." he teased, his hand gently guiding you forward.

But your feet felt like they were rooted to the floor, your eyes sweeping over the room one last time before you reluctantly moved to join the others. All the students had already claimed their seats, their eager chatter filling the room as they eyed the feast laid out before them. Plates of steaming food lined the long table, with more dishes steadily arriving from the kitchen. Their excitement was palpable, their energy infectious as forks and chopsticks hovered in anticipation. You stood at the edge, observing with a faint smile as your grandfather settled comfortably next to Takeda, who was grinning as he exchanged a few lighthearted words with him.

You made your way toward the seat beside your grandfather, a spot you had intended to claim, but Inuoka unknowingly slid into it at the last moment. Sitting down next to Yaku, his face lit up with a cheerful grin, oblivious to your approach.

"Ah, sorry!" Inuoka exclaimed, realizing his mistake as he noticed you standing there. He immediately began to rise, his expression apologetic.

You raised a hand to stop him, your smile soft and reassuring. "It's fine, really. Don't worry about it. I'll find another seat."

Your gaze swept over the table, scanning for any other open spots, but it quickly became apparent that every single seat was taken — except one. And that one seat was right next to Ukai.

Of course, you rolled your eyes.

Your eyes met his across the table. For a brief, tense moment, his gaze flicked to the empty seat beside him, then back to you, his expression a mix of surprise and discomfort before he quickly looked away. The pit of your stomach churned as you turned back to your grandfather, your tone clipped but controlled. "On second thought, I think I'll need that seat after all—"

But before you could finish, your grandfather cut you off, his voice booming with feigned innocence. "Come on, y/n. Sit down, everyone's waiting! The food's going to get cold!"

You glanced around the table, every pair of eyes eagerly waiting for the signal to dig in. They looked so expectant, so hungry, that you couldn't bring yourself to argue. "But—" you tried again, your polite façade threatening to crack, your brow twitching in frustration.

"Alright, everyone! Let's eat!" your grandfather proclaimed, ignoring you entirely. The students erupted into cheers, chopsticks clattering against plates as they began devouring the feast.

Your hands clenched into fists at your sides as you turned to glare at your grandfather. His expression was a picture of innocence, but the glint in his eye betrayed him. You should've known better when you accepted to come here. Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you reluctantly turned toward the empty seat.

Ukai had already begun eating, his chopsticks moving methodically as he stared down at his plate, clearly doing his best to pretend you weren't approaching. You slid into the seat beside him, careful to keep as much distance as the small space would allow, your focus resolutely on the food in front of you. You helped yourself to a few dishes, your movements stiff, the awkward silence between you thick enough to cut with a knife.

The tension was palpable, radiating off the both of you in waves. It was impossible to ignore. Even the students, in the midst of their boisterous conversations, cast the occasional glance in your direction, their curiosity piqued by the odd atmosphere at your corner of the table.

You kept your gaze firmly on your plate, chewing slowly as you tried to ignore the storm of emotions brewing inside you. Being this close to him again after all these years felt like reopening a wound that had barely healed. You hated him. You'd told yourself that over and over. You hated him for what he'd done, for the way he'd betrayed you years ago. And sitting here now, his presence so near after all these years. It was hard, really hard. You avoided his gaze at all cost, scared that if you looked at him in the eyes for too long, you'd start to remember things you didn't want to remember. Memories of laughter, of shared dreams, of a bond that once felt unbreakable when all that was left today was hatred.

You swallowed hard, forcing those thoughts away as you continued to eat, doing your best to ignore him. You just had to endure this night and then you would never have to see him again. Just one dinner and you could go back to your peaceful life and act like nothing happened.

Suddenly, a cheerful voice broke through your spiraling thoughts. "So, how's everything going? Is the food to your taste?"

Lifting your head from your plate, you saw a familiar elderly woman tanding by the table, her hands clasped together with delight as she took in the sight of the gathered group. Her warm smile spread across her face, crinkling the fine lines around her eyes. It was an expression you knew well—a smile that had comforted you countless times in the past. Your breath hitched as recognition dawned.

It was Fumiko, the owner of this cozy little restaurant and, in your mind, the best cook in town. She had been a constant presence during your childhood since you would go here very often, watching you grow from a shy, awkward child into the person you were today or at least, eight years ago. She'd seen you laugh, cry, and everything in between. There was a kindness in her gaze, one that had remained unchanged despite the years that had passed. Yet, as you studied her face more closely, you noticed the subtle changes. Her hair, streaked with more gray than you remembered, framed a face etched with new lines. And still, she was beautiful, radiating the same warmth that had always drawn people to her.

Your heart raced as she stood before the table, her eyes scanning the group. Would she recognize you? Would she be angry that you had left without a word all those years ago? You couldn't be sure. She had been a silent witness to so many moments of your life, good and bad. The thought of her disappointment, of her possible resentment, weighed heavily on you.

"Delicious as always, Fumiko." your grandfather replied with a wide grin, his praise making her cheeks flush with pride.

"Oh, I'm so glad to hear that," she said, her voice tinged with excitement. "I can't believe you're back on the practice matches with Ukai. Where is he?" she asked, her gaze searching the table.

"Well, not exactly," your grandfather began with a chuckle. "Ukai's still retired, but we are back to the rivalry, alright. Ukai's grandson has taken the lead now, whereas I'm still standing strong... but I'm not alone, either."

He gestured toward your corner of the table, and you froze, feeling the weight of his words as all eyes turned toward you and Ukai.

You both froze as Fumiko turned her head, her eyes widening in apparent disbelief. "Oh my god," she stuttered, taking a hesitant step closer before quickening her pace. "Are my eyes deceiving me?!" She rubbed her eyes dramatically, as if to make sure she wasn't imagining things, and hurried toward your seats. "Keishin and Y/n?!" she exclaimed, her voice rising with a mixture of surprise and excitement.

Caught off guard, you and Ukai exchanged nervous smiles before lifting your hands in a half-hearted wave. "Hi..." you both said simultaneously, your voices carrying an awkward edge. But Fumiko didn't give you a moment to recover. Her face broke into a broad, beaming smile as she closed the distance, her arms opening wide.

"I can't believe it!" she cried, her excitement bubbling over as she wrapped an arm around each of your necks and pulled you both into a hug. The sudden, strong embrace left you stunned, her grip firm and unyielding. The force of her enthusiasm made you crash into Ukai, her arms locking you both together as though she feared you might vanish if she let go.

Your eyes widened at the unexpected closeness, and you felt Ukai stiffen beside you. You glanced up, catching his equally startled expression as your shoulders pressed together in the awkward embrace. Fumiko seemed oblivious to the tension as she continued to gush. "You're both here! You're really here, after all these years! And back to being friends again! Oh, I'm so happy! Look at how much you've grown! Full adults now!" Tears glimmered in her eyes, her voice cracking with emotion.

But the moment was cut short as you and Ukai simultaneously shifted, pulling away from her grip. "Wow, wow, slow down, Fumiko. We're not friends," you said quickly, stepping back to create some distance. Her smile faltered, confusion clouding her features.

"What?" she asked, glancing between the two of you.

"Yeah," Ukai added, crossing his arms defensively. "How could you think I'd be friends with someone like her again?"

You turned to him sharply, your annoyance sparking immediately. "Excuse me? Someone like me? Have you seen yourself? You're not exactly a winning prize here." you snapped, your tone biting.

He leaned closer, his eyes narrowing. "Oh, because you think you're one, princess?" he shot back, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You smirked, refusing to back down. "Well, compared to you..." You let the statement hang in the air, your words as sharp as a blade.

His brow arched, his frustration palpable. "As expected from the condescending princess you are," he muttered, his arms crossing tighter against his chest. "Always thinking you're better than others."

You leaned forward slightly, your gaze locking with his, unyielding. "Not better than others, Blondie," you said, your voice low and taunting. "Only better than you."

His jaw tightened, his teeth gritting as your words hit their mark. The tension between you crackled like a live wire, drawing the attention of everyone at the table. Conversations faltered, eyes flickering back and forth between the two of you as though they were watching a match about to break out.

Fumiko glanced over at Nekomata, her brows raised in silent question. He gave a helpless shrug, lifting his hands as if to say, 'Beats me.' She sighed heavily, shaking her head before stepping between the two of you. Her hands went up, pressing against both your shoulders to separate you. "Alright, that's enough, you two," she commanded, her tone firm but laced with exasperation.

She shook her head, her eyes narrowing in mock disapproval. "I guess I have to take back the 'full adults' part," she said with a pointed look. "You two haven't changed one bit, I see. Still fighting." Her words carried a hint of fondness despite her stern expression.

Suddenly aware of the many eyes on you, you glanced around, catching the other students quickly looking away, feigning interest in their food. The momentary embarrassment burned hot in your cheeks as you turned back to Fumiko, who raised an eyebrow knowingly.

"And I'm guessing still competitive as ever, am I right?" she asked, folding her arms as she waited for a response.

You recovered quickly, your lips curling into a sly grin as you shot a glance at Ukai. "Well, it's not much of a competition when you keep winning." you said, your voice laced with false sweetness.

Ukai's eyes narrowed, his frustration flaring again. "You shouldn't brag so much when you and I both know I beat you in plenty of other things." he retorted, his tone sharp.

You tilted your head, feigning curiosity. "Oh yeah? Like what?" you challenged.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he gestured to the wall behind you. "Like our eating contest." he said smugly.

Your gaze followed his gesture, landing on a framed photo hung just above the table. The image stopped you in your tracks. It was a snapshot from years ago, taken only a few weeks before the end of your friendship, capturing one of your infamous challenges: a ramen-eating contest. In the photo, Ukai sat with a huge smile and an arm draped confidently around your shoulders, his side of the table stacked high with empty bowls while your side had significantly less. Your expression, in stark contrast, was a mix of frustration and disbelief as you glared at him. The memory rushed back vividly—one of the countless competitions you'd had as friends.

It had been a regular thing between the two of you back then, always finding the most random and ridiculous challenges to prove who was better. They'd been harmless, fun, and at times downright silly. This one, though, had been a favorite—a contest to see who could eat the most ramen. You felt the flicker of a smile tug at your lips despite yourself, but quickly shook it away as you turned back to him.

The atmosphere around the table shifted in an instant, the air buzzing with an almost palpable excitement. Every student's attention snapped to the center of the commotion, their curiosity lighting up the room as they exchanged glances filled with anticipation. Whispers spread like wildfire, but one thought united them: they had to see that photo up close and take a picture of it.

"I'll have to refresh your empty mind because I won our ramen-eating contest plenty of times before." you retorted, your tone laced with playful defiance. 

"Maybe," he responded, his voice tinged with mockery, "but I won the last one we did. And the proof is right there on that wall. Face it, I'm better than you." His smirk deepened, and the sparkle in his eyes made it clear he was enjoying this far more than he probably should.

You narrowed your eyes, your arms crossing tightly over your chest as if bracing yourself against his audacity. "It was one contest that we did years ago. It doesn't prove anything, Egghead."

Ukai leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table as he closed the distance between you two. "Oh yeah? How about a rematch then?" His challenge hung in the air, daring you to rise to the occasion.

You arched an eyebrow, skepticism laced in your voice. "What?" The word slipped out, a mixture of disbelief and curiosity.

"A rematch," he repeated, his confidence unwavering. "Like old times. I'll prove once and for all that I'm better than you at this."

The silence stretched between you as you stared at him, the weight of his proposition sinking in. His cocky grin never faltered, but you could sense the competitive fire behind it. "What?" he repeated, this time with an edge of provocation, leaning closer until your faces were inches apart. "Don't tell me you're scared, princess."

The nickname ignited something in you, and your jaw tightened as you fought back the urge to snap. Your eyes narrowed further, your tongue pressing against the inside of your cheek in frustration. Finally, you straightened your posture and gave him a sharp nod. "Fine," you declared, your voice steady but laced with challenge. "But let's make things interesting."

His eyebrow shot up, curiosity now mixing with intrigue. "How?"

A sly smile crept onto your lips as you leaned forward slightly, matching his energy. "After the contest, we'll recreate that photo. Winner gets to choose exactly which position the loser has to be in, no possibility of saying no. Then, we'll hang that one instead of the old one."

Ukai's cocky facade faltered momentarily as he considered the stakes, his eyes darting to yours as if measuring your resolve. The room felt electric as the students around you held their breath, captivated by the escalating tension. "Don't tell me you're scared, blondie." You provoked.

His smirk returned, sharper than ever. "Never, princess," he shot back with a chuckle before turning toward the elderly woman standing nearby. "Fumiko, bring the ramens"

Fumiko's exasperated sigh was accompanied by a dramatic roll of her eyes. "Here we go again," she muttered under her breath as she disappeared into the kitchen, her movements deliberate and knowing, as if she had witnessed this very scene countless times before. "Eight years, and still the same." she added, her words tinged with both fondness and exasperation.

The students, meanwhile, erupted into chaos. "Oh my god," Kuroo exclaimed, his grin wide with amusement.

"What is happening?" Hinata's laughter bubbled out, infectious and full of disbelief.

"Are our coaches really about to do an eating contest?" Kenma's voice, usually steady and composed, carried a rare note of shock.

"It would appear so." Sugawara confirmed, a knowing smile playing on his lips as the teams began to buzz with excitement.

In a flurry of movement, the room divided, each team rallying behind their respective coach. Nekoma's students crowded around you, their cheers already ringing out, while Karasuno's team swarmed to Ukai's side, shouting their encouragement with equal fervor. It was as if a battlefield had sprung to life, with the ramen bowls as weapons and pride as the ultimate prize.

You and Ukai returned to your seats, the energy around you almost tangible as the room vibrated with anticipation. Moments later, Fumiko emerged, balancing two steaming bowls of ramen with practiced ease. Without missing a beat, she placed them in front of you and Ukai, her gaze betraying a hint of amusement.

Determined, you picked up your chopsticks, your resolve steeling as you faced your first bowl. Across the table, Ukai mirrored your actions, his expression equally fierce. The first bite was easy, the savory broth and perfectly cooked noodles sliding down effortlessly. But as the bowls kept coming, the true challenge began to reveal itself.

By the fifth bowl, your stomach protested violently, every bite feeling heavier than the last. Each noodle seemed to expand in your mouth, and swallowing became an act of sheer willpower. Across the table, Ukai was already finishing his sixth bowl, his pace steady and unrelenting. Frustration bubbled within you, but you pressed on, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you falter.

The sixth bowl came and went, and then the seventh. By the eighth, your body screamed for mercy, your every instinct urging you to stop. The room blurred slightly, the cacophony of cheering voices blending into a single, overwhelming roar. Your hand trembled as you lifted another bite to your lips, your determination the only thing keeping you going.

And yet, across the table, Ukai's confidence never wavered. His movements remained smooth, his expression infuriatingly calm. He was ahead, and he knew it. But you weren't done yet. You couldn't be.

However, you were really struggling, and Ukai knew it. His movements were unhurried but deliberate as he prepared to start his ninth bowl. He paused, turning toward you with an infuriatingly calm smirk. "You okay there, princess?" he asked, his tone dripping with mock sympathy. "I can see you struggling. You know, it's okay to give up."

You glared at him, fire in your eyes despite the way your body protested against every bite. "Shut up." you hissed, your voice tight as you forced another mouthful of noodles down. The taste, once savory and delightful, now felt like an unbearable burden. Still, you pressed on, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing you quit.

Ukai shrugged nonchalantly and turned back to his bowl, digging into his ninth serving as if it were his first. Across the table, the energy of your supporters from Nekoma had shifted. They could see your struggle, and their cheers took on a desperate edge, urging you to keep going. But it was too late.

The pain in your stomach reached a breaking point, a deep, twisting ache that radiated through your entire body. Your vision blurred slightly, and the sound of the room seemed to fade as dizziness set in. It was one bite too many. Without a word, you pushed back your chair, standing abruptly and bolting toward the bathroom. Behind you, a collective gasp rippled through the crowd, followed quickly by an eruption of cheers from Karasuno.

Ukai's victory was sealed, and Karasuno's team celebrated loudly, their voices mingling with disappointed groans from Nekoma's side.

Inside the bathroom, you barely made it to a stall before the nausea overtook you. Collapsing to your knees, you gripped the edges of the toilet as your body rebelled, expelling everything you had eaten. The sound of retching echoed harshly in the confined space, and when it finally subsided, you were left breathing heavily, your stomach still aching and your throat burning.

"Damn it," you muttered weakly, your voice barely above a whisper. Frustration mingled with humiliation as the reality of your loss sank in. You had to go back out there. You had to face Ukai and his insufferable smirk.

A knock on the bathroom door jolted you from your thoughts, and for a moment, you wondered if you'd imagined it. Then it came again, a soft but insistent rapping.

"Are you okay, Miss Nekomata?" a gentle voice asked. "Do you need anything? Can I come in?"

You blinked, the concern in the voice grounding you. "Uh... yeah, yeah, I'm okay. Don't worry," you managed to reply, though your voice was hoarse. Grabbing a piece of toilet paper, you wiped your mouth and flushed it away, forcing yourself to stand despite the lingering nausea.

When you opened the stall door, you were met with the sight of a young woman with glasses, blue hair, and a mole beside her mouth. Her calm demeanor and quiet beauty took you by surprise, and you recognized her as Karasuno's manager.

"You sure everything is okay?" she asked again, her expression filled with genuine concern.

You offered a small, tired smile, placing a hand lightly on her shoulder. "Don't worry, I'm completely fine. I just... ate too much. But thanks for checking, uh..."

"Kyoko Shimizu." she responded, her soft smile a balm to your frayed nerves.

"Shimizu. I appreciate it." you said sincerely before walking to the sink. You turned on the faucet, washing your hands and rinsing your mouth, the cold water a welcome relief. As you dried your hands by shaking them in the air, you let out a resigned sigh.

"Fuck... Now I have to take that stupid picture." you muttered, rolling your eyes before heading back out to the table.

The room erupted into a mix of cheers and laughter as soon as you appeared. Ukai was waiting for you, his smirk wider than ever. You stopped in front of him, arms crossed tightly over your chest. "Welcome back from the dead, princess. Had a good time in there?" he teased, his tone dripping with mockery.

You rolled your eyes, your voice sharp with sarcasm. "Better time than I'll ever get with you, that's for sure."

Ukai chuckled, unfazed. "Oh, you wound me." he quipped theatrically, his grin never faltering. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, handing it to Daichi, who had been watching the exchange with barely contained amusement. "Here, Daichi. Take the photo, will ya?"

Turning back to you, Ukai clapped his hands together, his expression one of exaggerated excitement. "Alright, princess," he said, pointing toward the wall behind you. "Why don't you go stand over there?"

You hesitated but reluctantly obeyed, your steps heavy with dread. As you reached the spot, he approached with a clipboard in hand. Scribbled across the front in bold, mocking letters were the words: 'I'm a loser and Ukai is the best.'

You stared at it in disbelief, your eyebrows shooting up. "When did you write that?" you asked, your voice incredulous.

"I had plenty of time with you gone in the bathroom." he admitted cheerfully. "Come on, take it. It's the deal." He shook the clipboard teasingly, and with a frustrated sigh, you snatched it from his hand, holding it in front of your chest with all the enthusiasm of a prisoner holding a mugshot sign.

Ukai's grin widened as he joined you, draping an arm casually around your shoulders, knowing you'd hate it, and flashing a peace sign with his free hand. "You look perfect, princess."

"I hate you." You said but he only chuckled.

"Aww, me too." he chuckled as he turned back to face the camera with a big smile, "Now smile and say cheeeeeese," he drawled.

You rolled your eyes but complied, muttering under your breath as Daichi snapped the photo, immortalizing your defeat for all to see.

The flash from the phone momentarily blinded you, and as you blinked away the bright spots dancing in your vision, you felt Ukai's arm finally leave your shoulders. He moved quickly, almost gleefully, over to Daichi to grab his phone. A brief silence lingered before his laughter filled the room.

"Thanks, Daichi. It's perfect." he said, his voice brimming with smug satisfaction. He turned the screen toward you, flashing the image for just a second before pulling it back to admire it again. "I needed a new wallpaper," he added with a smirk that made your blood boil.

You rolled your eyes, a long sigh escaping your lips as you folded your arms tightly across your chest. At least it was over now. Soon, you could leave, put this night behind you, and pretend none of it had ever happened. Maybe, if you were lucky, you'd never have to see Ukai's smug face again.

But before you could even take a step toward freedom, a loud, booming voice interrupted your thoughts.

"PEOPLE!"

The shout came from the far end of the table, jolting everyone's attention. All heads turned in unison to see Takeda and Nekomata standing arm in arm, side-hugging like old drinking buddies. In their free hands, they each held a glass, and from the deep red flush on their faces, it was clear they'd had more than their fair share of alcohol.

"We have an announcement to make!" Takeda declared, his words slightly slurred but enthusiastic. He leaned closer to Nekomata, giggling like a schoolboy, before whispering, "You tell them."

Nekomata chuckled in response, his laughter just as unsteady. "No, you tell them." he replied, nudging Takeda with his elbow.

"No, you." Takeda insisted, shaking his head as he dissolved into more laughter.

The two of them teetered precariously, their giggles infectious but utterly confusing to the crowd. Everyone exchanged puzzled glances, murmurs of curiosity rippling through the room.

"Just spit it out already!" you snapped, your patience long gone. You regretted speaking as soon as the words left your mouth, but thankfully, it seemed to snap them back to attention.

Nekomata straightened up as much as his drunken state allowed, clearing his throat dramatically. "Right, right. Sorry," he said, though his grin remained firmly in place. "We have decided..." He paused, glancing at Takeda. "Together, now," he said.

"We have decided!" they both proclaimed in unison, only to burst into laughter once again.

You groaned audibly, dragging a hand down your face. "Oh, for the love of..."

"Right!" Nekomata finally continued, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye as he tried to compose himself. "We have decided to hold practice matches against each other every Saturday at the Karasuno gym from now on!"

The room erupted into cheers and applause. Players from both teams clapped and whooped in excitement, already speculating about the intense matches to come. But you on the other hand, you stared blankly ahead, horror creeping into your expression as the realization settled in, only muttering a single sentence to yourself.

"The universe hates me, I'm sure of it now."

***

 

Chapter 8: Old Memories

Chapter Text

It was already late into the night as you returned to Tokyo after the eventful dinner at the restaurant. The city outside the bus window was cloaked in darkness, broken only by the occasional glow of streetlights and the faint hum of distant traffic. Inside the bus, an almost oppressive silence hung in the air, broken intermittently by the low, steady rumble of the engine. The once-lively group of students had all been dropped off at their respective stops, leaving the bus empty except for you and your grandfather.

You sat near the middle of the bus, your posture stiff and tense, staring out the window with your arms firmly crossed over your chest. The glass reflected the faint glow of passing lights, but your attention wasn't on the view. Your expression was drawn into a sour scowl, your lips pressed into a thin line of frustration. You hadn't uttered a single word since leaving the restaurant, and the silence felt heavy, almost suffocating.

Next to you, your grandfather sat slouched against his seat, still visibly tipsy from the night's revelry. He cradled a half-empty bottle of water, which you had handed to him earlier with strict instructions to finish it before you both got home. He took small, obedient sips, his face flushed a deep red that betrayed his earlier overindulgence. Occasionally, he'd glance at you out of the corner of his eye, but your rigid posture and stony silence seemed to dissuade him from attempting conversation.

Finally, the bus came to a gentle halt in front of your house. The hiss of the brakes echoed through the empty interior as you both rose from your seats. You muttered a polite "thank you" to the driver, and your grandfather followed suit, his voice slightly slurred but still appreciative. The two of you stepped off the bus into the cool night air, your footsteps crunching softly against the gravel path as you approached the house.

You unlocked the door with sharp, deliberate movements, holding it open just long enough for your grandfather to step inside. The door clicked shut behind you with a decisive force, the sound resonating through the quiet house. Turning on your heel, you planted yourself firmly in the middle of the entryway, arms crossed and fingers tapping impatiently against your bicep. Your piercing gaze locked onto your grandfather, who had just kicked off his shoes and was swaying slightly as he straightened up.

He turned to face you, raising a curious eyebrow as he took in your stance. "Everything okay?" he asked, his voice tinged with cautious amusement, though his drunken state dulled the sharpness of his tone.

"Oh, I don't know," you began, your words dripping with sarcasm as you glared at him. "You tell me."

His brow furrowed in confusion for a brief moment before realization dawned on his face. "Is this about the practice matches?" he ventured hesitantly.

"No, it's about the economic state of the world—of course it's about the matches!" you snapped, your voice rising in frustration. You uncrossed your arms, throwing them into the air in exasperation. "Going to Karasuno every week? How could you do this to me, Grandpa?"

He raised his hands defensively, his eyes wide with mock innocence. "Wow, calm down, I—"

"Calm down?" you interrupted with a humorless laugh. "You want me to calm down?!" Your voice climbed in pitch, the frustration boiling over. "How can you possibly ask me that when you know exactly what you did?"

"What I did?" he repeated, his tone incredulous. "The only thing I did was ensure constant progress for Nekoma! Need I remind you that after Ukai retired, there was a significant drop in the team's performance. We lost our rival school, our supposedly sworn enemies, and yet... our greatest allies. But now that we have them back, we can progress greatly!" He smiled. "I mean, did you see the matches today? They were challenging each other, pushing each other to their limits. It's impressive how much they adapted and improved in just three games. Karasuno has serious potential, and they're only going to get stronger. We need to keep their level in check if we want to beat them at Nationals."

You stared at him, your jaw tightening as his words sunk in. But the logic in his argument was drowned out by the flood of emotions clouding your judgment. "Bullshit!" you spat, your voice laced with venom. "The only reason you did this is because Keishin is their coach. You took this as your golden opportunity to fulfill your stupid fantasy of us becoming friends again. That's it, isn't it?"

Your grandfather hesitated for a fraction of a second before sighing, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Well, it certainly helped with the decision." he admitted sheepishly.

You groaned in frustration, pressing the heels of your palms against your temples. "I can't believe this." you muttered to yourself before dropping your hands and leveling a glare at him. "It's Keishin, Grandpa. For God's sake. We are never going to become friends again. Do you hear me? Never. I've told you—repeatedly—that I don't want to talk to him or see him, but the only thing you did today was force me to do so anyway!"

"I know, I'm sorry, but—" he started, but you cut him off with a sharp wave of your hand.

"There is no 'but,' Grandpa!" you shouted, your voice cracking with anger and something else—a raw edge of vulnerability. "How can you stand there and seriously say these meetings are a good idea? All we did today was argue and shout in front of the kids! When I'm near him, it's like I can't help but revert to my high school self."

Your gaze dropped to your hands, trembling slightly as you clenched them into fists. "I left Japan for a reason, Grandpa," you continued, your voice quieter now but no less intense. "I left my old self behind. I left the pain behind, and I was happy. But now, because of him, it feels like everything is back. Like...she's back."

Your voice wavered as you stared at the floor, your breathing uneven. The weight of your words hung in the air between you, a palpable tension that even your grandfather's drunken haze couldn't dull.

"But... is that such a bad thing?" he asked softly, his voice careful and measured, as if he were testing the waters of a deep and uncharted sea.

Your head snapped up, your eyes locking onto his. The tension hung in the air like a stubborn mist, wrapping around the room as you finally let the words spill from your lips. "Between stupid insults thrown in the air every two seconds and dumb challenges to outdo each other, I don't think our duo will exactly work in the volleyball field. I'm no expert, but I'm pretty sure it's not something everyone really want to endure every week. Face it, we're no good for each other and the kids." Your tone was sharp, cutting through the lingering silence with each syllable.

Yasufumi's face fell, his expression softening in a way that tugged at your resolve. "I think you're wrong," he said gently, his voice steady yet tinged with emotion. His words made you pause, your gaze lifting reluctantly to meet his.

"Maybe the ramen eating contest was dumb," he began, his tone calm but purposeful. "But did you see how the kids were? They were cheering you both on, encouraging you to keep going. And when you lost, Nekoma was as frustrated as you were. Don't you see? This rivalry between Keishin and you... it'll only push them to do better, to strive harder. It'll motivate them." His lips curved into a soft smile, but your own face remained locked in a mask of unease.

You let out a long, weary sigh, your arms folding around yourself as if to shield you from the weight of the conversation. You didn't want to keep arguing. "Grandpa... it was hard enough seeing him today after all these years. I don't want to do it ever again." Your voice was quieter now, tinged with a vulnerability you tried to suppress. Hugging yourself tighter, you looked away, focusing on the familiar scuffs on the floorboards instead of your grandfather's face. "Please call Takeda and tell him we won't be meeting them every Saturday."

The words seemed to hang in the air like a final verdict, and for a moment, Yasufumi didn't respond. When you glanced back at him, you saw his eyes widen slightly, surprise flickering across his features.

"I'm sorry, Grandpa," you continued, your voice barely above a whisper now. "Keishin and I are better off on our own, and I think you know it too." You finished your statement with a heavy sigh, the silence in the room stretching taut before he finally spoke.

"I'm sorry, my little kitten. You're right.... I shouldn't have done that. I got carried away and disregarded how it would make you feel." His tone was soft, remorseful, and his eyes dropped to the floor as if the weight of his own guilt was too much to bear. "The reason I did this is because... it's because this is what we used to do with Ukai," he admitted, his voice faltering slightly. Your brows furrowed as you studied his expression, sensing the layers of emotion behind his words.

"When I was drinking and talking with Takeda earlier, it reminded me of the old times," he continued, his voice filled with a bittersweet nostalgia. "How, after every session, Ukai and I would go to the same restaurant with our teams. We'd eat, drink, laugh, just... have fun together. When I saw everyone so happy earlier, I... I guess I got a little nostalgic. It made me realize how much I missed this, and how much I miss my old friend now." He paused, his voice growing quieter.

His sincerity was palpable, and for a moment, your frustration ebbed, replaced by sympathy.

"But it wasn't only that," he added, his gaze meeting yours again. "It was also you. Having you back with me after all this time and seeing Keishin by your side at the restaurant, doing one of your old stupid challenges... it reminded me of all those times we spent together. The four of us. How happy we were." He paused, his voice weavering. "I hadn't realized how much time had passed, how much things had changed. I guess... I just wanted to see you happy again, like the old times. To bring back some of those moments we had." He exhaled heavily, his shoulders slumping. "So when Takeda mentioned looking for schools to practice with, I made the proposition without thinking. I'm really sorry. I'll call him tomorrow morning."

He turned to walk away, his steps slow and heavy, and the sight made your heart twist uncomfortably and eyes widen. You'd never fully considered how much your falling out with Keishin had affected him, how much it must have hurt him to watch you retreat into anger and sadness overnight without any sort of explanation. As the memories of high school flickered in your mind, you felt a pull you couldn't quite resist.

"Wait!" The word left your mouth before you could think better of it, and he stopped, turning back to face you with a glimmer of hope in his eyes. However, what you said next shocked even you. "Fine," You looked away. "We'll go for the practice matches every Saturday." You mumbled.

His face brightened instantly, and for a moment, you almost regretted the words. "It will be beneficial for the kids," you added quickly, trying to justify your decision to yourself as much as to him. "And I'd be a terrible coach if I said no for selfish reasons."

Yasufumi's face broke into a wide grin as he rushed to you, wrapping you in a tight, almost crushing hug. "Oh, my little kitten! You don't know how happy this makes me!" His joy was infectious, but you managed to keep your tone dry as you patted his back.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm the best granddaughter ever, I know," you muttered, rolling your eyes in mock exasperation. He finally pulled back, his smile still radiant.

"But I'm warning you," you said, holding up an index finger for emphasis. "I'm not talking to Keishin unless I absolutely have to. You hear me?"

He chuckled, gently pushing your finger aside. "Right. Like you won't be at each other's throats the second you walk into that gym again."

"Yeah, well, don't blame me for your bad choices." you shot back with a playful shrug, patting his shoulder.

The air inside the house was heavy with the quiet that only deep night can bring, a kind of muffled silence that made every creak of the floorboards feel like a shout. "Come on, grandpa," you said softly, offering a hand to steady him as he stumbled slightly. "Let's get you to bed. You need to rest."

He nodded sluggishly, the effects of the sake still evident in the way he swayed on his feet and the slightly unfocused look in his eyes. His movements were sluggish, and you couldn't help but sigh as you guided him down the hallway to his room. Tomorrow, you'd have a firm word with him about drinking too much, but tonight, you just wanted to see him comfortable. No matter how exasperating he could be at times, he was still your grandpa, the man who had raised you when no one else would. And you cared for him more than words could say.

When you returned to Tokyo, it struck you how much he had aged in your absence. The silver in his hair had turned almost completely white, and his face bore the deeper lines of years well-lived, though they also told the story of years spent worrying, working, and raising you. It was a sobering realization—the passage of time had not waited for either of you. You didn't regret leaving for the United States, not truly, but now that you were back, you were keenly aware of how precious these moments were. He had taken care of you through everything, and now it felt like your turn to do the same.

Finally, you reached his room and flicked on the light. The space was modest and traditional, with tatami mats covering the floor and a futon neatly laid out in the center. The faint scent of cedar lingered in the air, mingling with the faintest trace of the night breeze that seeped in through the edges of the paper screens. The room was sparse, but it had a warm, lived-in feeling. A low wooden dresser stood against the wall, and above it hung a small framed photo of you and your grandpa from years ago, both grinning ear to ear. A single plant sat on the windowsill, its leaves softly illuminated by the moonlight filtering through the shoji screens.

Opening the drawer of the dresser, you pulled out a neatly folded set of pajamas and turned to hand them to him. "Here, put these on," you said, only to see him groan dramatically as he collapsed onto the futon with the grace of someone utterly uninterested in cooperating.

"Grandpa," you said, exasperation creeping into your tone. "You have to change. Come on."

"Tomorrow," he mumbled into the pillow, waving a hand dismissively as he shifted to make himself more comfortable.

You rolled your eyes, muttering under your breath as you placed the pajamas back in the drawer. Walking over to him, you crouched down to his level, sitting on your knees by his side. His face was slack with exhaustion, but his eyes were soft as they met yours. "Are you okay?" you asked quietly. "Do you need anything before I go?"

He shook his head but then, to your surprise, reached out and placed a calloused hand on your cheek. The gesture was so gentle, so uncharacteristically tender, that it took you a moment to process his next words. "You look so much like your mother, you know?" he said, his voice laced with melancholy.

Your breath hitched, and your eyes widened. He never talked about her. Not since the day she left. It had been an unspoken rule between you two, a mutual avoidance of a wound that neither of you seemed eager to reopen. He had always tried to hide his pain when you were young, to stay strong in front you because you had lost your mother even though he had lost his only daughter. But here he was, his gaze distant, his hand trembling slightly against your skin.

You knew now how hard it must have been for him at first. Still, he had given it his all to take care of you, to give you the best possible life.  

"Grandpa," you said softly, placing your hand over his to guide it back down to his side. But he continued, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I know I shouldn't, but... I still miss her sometimes," he admitted, turning his gaze away from you. His expression was distant, as though he were looking back through time. "I wonder where she is, what she's doing, if she's okay..."

You stiffened, knowing he wasn't entirely sober and that these thoughts were dredged up by the alcohol. "Don't think about her too much," you said firmly, though your voice held a hint of gentleness. "She made her choice a long time ago."

He sighed heavily, the sound weighted with years of unresolved grief. "I know, I know," he murmured. "Apparently, I'm in the mood to reminisce on old stuff tonight." He chuckled softly, though there was no real humor in it.

Standing, you brushed off your knees and moved toward the light switch. "Get some rest." you said quietly, your hand hovering over the switch.

Just as you were about to flick it off, his voice stopped you. "You know it wasn't your fault, right?"

Your body went rigid, and your eyes widened.

"She was so young when she had you," he continued, his voice earnest now. "It wasn't easy for her, which is why I started taking care of you. I thought it would help, to ease the weight on her shoulders. But... even with that, she still left. I didn't get it at the time—and I still don't, honestly. But it wasn't your fault she left. You know that, right?" His voice grew more urgent, his gaze pleading as he sat up slightly on the futon.

For a moment, the room felt unbearably small. The weight of his words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. You stood there, back turned to him, before finally opening your mouth. "Of course," you lied, your voice quiet but steady.

He let out a deep sigh of relief and lay back down, his body sinking into the futon. "Good," he murmured, his voice growing softer as sleep claimed him. "You know I love you with all of my heart, right?"

"I love you too." you whispered, flipping the switch and plunging the room into darkness. As you stepped out and gently closed the door behind you, the echo of his words lingered, settling into the corners of your mind and refusing to leave.

***

 

Chapter 9: Here we go again

Chapter Text

Standing in front of the Karasuno gym, the infrastructure loomed over you like a monolith of poor life decisions. For the second time in years, you found yourself in this place, and the growing knot in your stomach was making you reevaluate every choice you'd ever made. Why, why, why had you caved to your grandfather's pleading eyes and nostalgic ramblings? You'd had every chance to stand your ground, to let him call Takeda and cancel this madness, but nooooo. Empathy, that insidious little voice, had wormed its way in, and now you were here—standing in front of this gym like an idiot.

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face before planting it there, letting your palm rest heavily against your forehead. "Why am I even here?" you muttered under your breath, your voice tinged with equal parts frustration and despair.

"That's the question I've been asking myself," a voice, far too familiar and far too smug for your liking, cut through your self-pity. "and so far, the only answer I have is: to be a pain in my ass."

You took a deep breath, slowly lowering your hand and squaring your shoulders before turning to face the one and only Keishin Ukai. Of course, it was him. The universe wouldn't let you wallow in peace, would it? He stood there with his arms crossed, a cocky smirk plastered across his face. His red sports jacket hung casually open over his white t-shirt, and the ever-present headband kept his unruly blond hair in check. He looked exactly the same and somehow even more insufferable.

You face-palmed your face again, harder this time, hoping he would somehow disappear from your vision. And yet, his annoying voice reached your ears again.

"Don't do that. You'll lose the few brain cells you have left." He smirked.

"Well, at least I have some brain cells," you shot back, your tone sharp as you met his gaze. "That's more than I can say for you."

"Mmm, I doubt that," He let out a low chuckle, stepping closer. "But then again, you've always been the overconfident one, princess." The nickname dripped with mockery, and he tilted his head slightly, his smirk deepening as he closed the distance between you.

"Overconfident, huh?" you echoed, your tone laced with challenge. "That term usually only works when you don't win." You crossed your arms, leaning forward slightly as if daring him to continue. "And I always won against you back in high school, blondie."

"Oh, looks like the overconfidence stuck around," he replied, mirroring your stance. "Guess it's true what they say: you don't get wiser as you age."

You laughed, sharp and short. "But you do get dumber. You're living proof of that."

His eyes narrowed, the smirk on his face turning more predatory as he leaned even closer. The space between you shrank until there was hardly a breath of air separating you. His eyes locked on yours, cold meeting cold, neither of you willing to be the first to break. "Is that so?" he murmured, his voice low and baiting.

Your lips parted, the perfect retort forming on the tip of your tongue—when a voice cut through the charged air like a clap of thunder.

"Are you guys going to kiss or something?"

You both jolted, snapping your heads toward the source of the voice. Standing at the entrance of the gym, Tanaka stared at you with wide eyes, his expression caught somewhere between shock and confusion. His question hung in the air, heavy and mortifying.

Your cheeks flamed red-hot as you stumbled a step back, putting as much space between yourself and Ukai as possible. He straightened sharply, his face twisted in equal parts embarrassment and irritation.

"Tanaka!" you exclaimed, your voice a pitch higher than normal as you fought to regain your composure.

Ukai, however, had other plans. He turned to Tanaka with a glare that could cut steel, his hands landing firmly on his hips. "Tanaka, I want you on the court. Now."

Tanaka blinked, clearly not understanding the severity of the command. "Huh? But—"

"Now! Ten laps around the gym, and if I hear one more word out of you, it'll be twenty!" Ukai barked, pointing toward the gym with an authority that brooked no argument.

Tanaka didn't need to be told twice. "Y-yes, sir!" he stammered before scrambling inside, his voice fading as he muttered to himself about how he'd just been trying to help.

Silence fell, thick and awkward, wrapping around you both like a suffocating blanket. Your back was turned to him, your arms crossed tightly over your chest as you stared at the ground, your face still burning. Of all the things Tanaka could have said, why did it have to be that?

"Great. Just great." Ukai finally broke the silence, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Now my students are going to think I don't have any standards."

You rolled your eyes at the blatant insult as you turned your head to glare at him. "This is your fault."

"My fault?" he shot back, incredulous. "You were the one who came closer to me in the first place."

"Oh, please. You're the one who leaned in like you were about to—" You gestured sharply, the words catching in your throat before you could say them out loud. "You know what? Never mind. Not worth it."

"You're right, it's not." He scoffed, crossing his arms. "I'd rather kiss a cactus than even consider—"

"Good!" you interrupted, your voice rising. "Because if I were forced to kiss you, I'd throw up. Or die of disgust. You know what? Probably both."

His smirk returned, sharp and infuriating. "Oh, really? Because from where I was standing, it looked like you were waiting for it to happen. Desperate for it, maybe."

Your jaw dropped, and you took a step forward, pointing a finger at him. "Desperate? For you?" You laughed. "Please, Keishin. Don't patronize me." Your eyes narrowed. "I have standards."

"Aw, c'mon, princess," he drawled, his tone mocking. "Don't lie to yourself. You're just scared to admit I'm irresestible and that you'd actually like it. You're wondering what it'd be like, aren't you?" He leaned closer as he smirked.

You raised an eyebrow, amused. "Wondering if I'd survive the horror, maybe," you responded as you pushed his face away. "It'd be like touching poison—instant death if I'm lucky. That way I wouldn't have to live through the humiliation."

"Poison?" He barked out a laugh. "Funny, considering you're the one who's toxic. You'd probably give me a disease with just one kiss."

"Don't flatter yourself. My 'toxic' lips are be too good to be wasted them on you." you shot back, your voice cutting.

"Too good, huh? Trust me, princess, if you were the last woman on Earth, I'd take my chances with extinction."

"Good," you fired back instantly. "Because if you were the last man on Earth, humanity would deserve to die out rather than pass on your genes."

The air between you was charged, the insults flying fast and sharp, neither of you willing to back down. It wasn't until you heard the distant sound of the players practicing inside the gym that you both realized how loud you'd gotten.

Ukai ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. "Unbelievable. You're unbelievable."

"Right back at you," you muttered, spinning on your heel and stomping toward the gym. "Let's just get this day over with."

"Gladly," he shot back, following a few steps behind, though his glare lingered on your back. "But don't think for a second that you're getting the last word."

"Don't worry, I already did," you called over your shoulder, slamming the gym door open and leaving him standing there, fuming.

With an annoyed expression, Ukai angrily stepped into the gymnasium, his shoes scuffing softly against the polished wooden floor. The gym was alive with the sound of volleyballs being spiked into the air, sneakers squeaking with rapid movement, and the sharp commands exchanged between teammates. The familiar smell of sweat and determination clung to the air, and the buzzing energy of the players was palpable. Karasuno and Nekoma's players were already deep into their warm-ups, their movements a synchronized blend of focus and anticipation.

Hinata was bounding around the court with his usual uncontainable energy, his bright orange hair almost glowing under the gym lights. He leapt high into the air to meet Kageyama's perfectly aimed sets, slamming the ball down with an intensity that made the court seem smaller with every spike. The satisfying echo of the ball striking the floor sent a ripple of pride through the team. Nearby, Nishinoya dashed across the floor with the reflexes of a cat, diving and rolling to retrieve every stray ball, while Tanaka was finishing his ten laps.

On the other side of the net, Tsukishima adjusted his glasses with a smirk, coolly observing the others before effortlessly blocking a spike aimed directly at him. Yamaguchi, on the other hand, was practicing his jump float serve, his brows furrowed in concentration as he repeated the motion over and over, fine-tuning his precision. Daichi and Sugawara stood to the side, strategizing quietly but with an air of authority, their leadership grounding the team's buzzing energy.

Ukai strode past the intensity, his attention momentarily caught by the fluid motion of Hinata launching into the air, a blur of orange hair and raw energy. But his gaze didn't linger long—he had other things on his mind. As he approached Takeda and Shimizu, who stood observing from the sidelines before his eyes landed on you across the gym, directing your players with sharp, commanding gestures. And just like that, with his anger still boiling, his jaw clenched, and his mind began to spiral.

There you were again, that infuriating stance of yours—head held high, posture perfectly straight, radiating an air of superiority he couldn't stand. He hated the way you moved, the way you carried yourself with that unshakable confidence. God, you hadn't changed a bit since high school. He hated the way you spoke, the sharpness of your words that always managed to slice right through him. Everything about you was driving him crazy, and as much as he wanted to dismiss it as simple animosity because of what you did in the past, there was something about your presence that dug deeper under his skin than he cared to admit.

No, he thought, it wasn't complicated. He hated you. That was all there was to it. He hated the way you looked at him, like you always had the upper hand. He hated the way you had strolled back into Japan after all these years, like nothing happened. Like you hadn't completely ruined everything by betraying him only to then leave him behind. Not that he cared. He didn't care. Why would he care? He hadn't even thought about you while you were gone—at least that's what he told himself. Life had been peaceful without you, and he was doing just fine. Better, even. You were a relic of the past, something he'd buried a long time ago. So why did it feel like you were unearthing everything he'd worked so hard to ignore?

His scowl deepened, but it wasn't enough to shake the tightness in his chest. You were still the same, weren't you? The same princess of the volleyball court, the one who always had to prove she was better than everyone else. And yet, a treacherous part of him couldn't help but notice the way time had changed you. You stood differently now—there was a weight to your posture, a gravity in the way you spoke to your team. You weren't high school kids anymore and yet, you being here was reverting him back to his old ways without having any control over it. It was maddening, the way you could still get under his skin without even trying. He hated it. He hated you.

But now that you were back, he had a chance to prove, once and for all, that he was better than you. He smiled.

Lost in his thoughts, Ukai didn't notice Takeda approaching until the shorter man's concerned voice broke through his mental tirade.

"Why are you smiling like that?" Takeda asked, raising an eyebrow. His expression was a mix of amusement and genuine concern.

Ukai blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. "Like what?" he asked, feigning innocence.

"Like a psycho who's just found their next prey." Takeda replied, folding his arms.

Ukai scoffed and rolled his eyes. "If anyone's the psycho here, it's her, not me."

Takeda sighed, shaking his head. "Is it going to be like this every week? Honestly, you two are worse than the students or even little children."

Ukai's lips twisted into a smirk. "If she can keep her demon self from me, we'll be fine. Mostly."

Takeda raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Oh, so now she's a demon?"

"Demon, witch, tomato, tomahto," Ukai said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "The specifics don't matter. The fact remains: she's evil."

Takeda shook his head again, muttering something under his breath as he walked away. Ukai turned his attention back to the court, his smirk returning as he approached his team. He clapped his hands loudly to gather their focus, his voice cutting through the noise.

"Alright, listen up!" he barked, his tone commanding but not unkind. The players immediately stopped what they were doing and turned their attention to their coach. "I've been watching you warm up, and you're looking solid. But remember, this isn't just about skill. It's about reading the opponent, adapting to their moves, and keeping your heads in the game. Hinata, keep your jumps sharp and don't get predictable. Kageyama, make sure your sets are versatile. Keep them guessing. Tsukishima, I want to see those blocks tighter. Don't give them any room to breathe."

As he spoke, his players nodded, their eyes gleaming with determination. He stepped back, crossing his arms as he watched them internalize his words. This was what he loved about coaching—seeing the fire in their eyes, knowing they were ready to give it their all.

The sharp blast of the referee's whistle echoed through the gym, signaling that it was time to take positions for the match. Ukai clapped his hands once more and called out, "Alright, let's show them what Karasuno's made of once again! Good luck out there, and remember, play smart!"

As the players moved into position, Ukai made his way to the bench, sinking into his seat with a confident air. He allowed himself one last glance in your direction, his gaze sharp and challenging. The match was about to begin, and he was ready to crush your team, to show you—and himself—that he was a better coach than you.

The tension in the gym was electric as the whistle blew again, signaling the start of the game.

Karasuno's players stormed the court, their movements filled with determination and an almost frantic energy. Hinata's jumps were higher than ever, like he was trying to defy gravity itself. Kageyama's sharp sets cut through the air like knives, landing perfectly in the hands of his teammates. But for all their fiery enthusiasm, Karasuno couldn't match Nekoma's cold, calculated precision.

Nekoma's defense was like an impenetrable wall—libero Yaku dived gracefully, digging balls that seemed impossible to reach, while setter Kenma orchestrated their attacks with an almost lazy elegance, turning Karasuno's strongest hits into opportunities for their counters. Even when Karasuno managed to score, the points were hard-earned, scraped together through sheer grit and determination. Nekoma's players, in contrast, moved as one fluid entity, their plays clean and efficient.

The first set ended with a decisive score: Nekoma 25, Karasuno 18. Though the gap wasn't enormous, the difference in skill and teamwork was palpable. As the teams rotated sides, Karasuno's players were drenched in sweat, breaths coming hard and fast, while Nekoma's seemed almost unruffled.

"Come on, don't lose focus!" Ukai barked from the sidelines, clapping his hands together to snap his team's attention back. His voice was sharp, but not unkind. 

The second set started with a glimmer of hope for Karasuno. Tsukishima's sharp blocks began to land, throwing Nekoma off-balance for brief moments. Nishinoya flew across the court like a lightning bolt, pulling off saves that brought the crowd to their feet. Even Nekoma seemed momentarily surprised by Karasuno's resilience. But it wasn't enough to turn the tide. Slowly but surely, Nekoma regained their rhythm, pulling ahead with a steady stream of points. When the final whistle blew, the scoreboard read 25-19. Nekoma had won the match in two straight sets.

As the teams shook hands, the contrast in emotions was stark. The players of Karasuno wore expressions of frustration and exhaustion, though tinged with glimmers of pride. They had fought hard, and it showed. Nekoma's players, on the other hand, were all smiles, their victory hard-earned but well-executed.

Ukai's jaw was tight as he watched the teams disperse to their benches for the break. His eyes followed his players, his mind already running through what to say to them. And then there was you. Standing just a few feet away with your grandfather, your smile was radiant as you congratulated your team, patting shoulders and offering words of praise.

He clenched his fists. That damn smirk on your face was driving him up the wall.

"Don't get discouraged," Takeda's voice broke through Ukai's seething thoughts. The teacher stood at the bench, speaking to the players who had slumped down, their water bottles barely touched. "You're all making progress. You're improving with every match, and it's showing."

"He's right," Ukai interrupted, forcing himself to smile despite the sting of defeat still fresh in his chest. His voice carried conviction, aimed at lifting the spirits of his players. "I can see it too. You're closing the gap. You're getting closer and closer to beating them. Don't let this loss get to you. Learn from it, use it, and come back stronger."

The players straightened up at his words, nodding along, determination rekindling in their eyes. They let out a cheer, their spirits renewed as they prepared to head back to the court for more practice. Ukai's gaze drifted back to you, and to his immense irritation, you were already looking at him.

You approached slowly, hands in your pockets, that same infuriating smirk playing on your lips. "So," you drawled, your tone light and teasing, "did you teach them how to lose like an Ukai? Because so far, they're nailing it."

His jaw clenched, his teeth grinding audibly as he turned to face you fully. "You're one to talk," he shot back, his tone biting. "We both know Nekoma's strength comes from your grandfather. You're just riding his coattails."

Your eyebrows shot up, amusement flickering in your eyes. "Of course they're strong because of him," you said smoothly, stepping closer. "Success runs in the family, after all. My grandpa beat your grandpa's ass, and now I'm beating yours. Isn't that wonderful?" You leaned in just enough to invade his space, your voice dropping to a mockingly sweet whisper. "Guess some things never change, huh?"

Ukai's fists tightened at his sides, his pride burning. "You know, princess," he ground out, his voice low and sharp, "how about I beat your ass the old-fashioned way? No hiding behind a team. Just you and me, two-on-two, on the court. We each get to chose a member of our team to play with us."

Your lips twitched into a grin, your eyes gleaming with challenge. "Oh? Have you forgotten how it always ended in high school?"

"That was a long time ago." he said through gritted teeth.

"Yeah," you mused, tapping your chin thoughtfully. "But in the meantime, I became a professional player while you stopped playing. Between the two of us, I don't think this is going to be much of a rematch."

He bristled at your words, his frustration spilling over. "And yet here we are," he shot back, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Both of us coaching high school teams."

You tilted your head, observing him carefully, as if weighing his words. Then, slowly, a mischievous smile spread across your face. "You know what, blondie? Why not?" you said, stepping even closer, your voice dropping to a whisper again. "After all, it'll be fun to humiliate you in front of your students."

He didn't flinch, meeting your gaze head-on. "If you're so sure about your win," he said, his tone taking on a dangerous edge, "then how about we raise the stakes?"

Your eyebrow arched, curiosity flickering across your face. "Oh? What do you have in mind?"

"Winner gets to make the loser do something. Anything, withing the bounds of legality of course," he said, his smirk sharp. "And the loser can't refuse."

You stared at him for a moment, considering. Then, slowly, your lips curved into a wicked smile. "Oh, I'm going to have so much fun with this," you murmured, almost to yourself. You extended your hand, your grin downright devilish. "Deal."

He took your hand in a firm grip, leaning in slightly as he matched your grin with one of his own. "Get ready to shave your head again, Egghead." you said, your voice dripping with confidence.

"We'll see about that, princess." he retorted, his eyes gleaming with determination. 

***

Chapter 10: Blame The Ball

Chapter Text

Both of you darted toward your respective teams, your steps quick and purposeful, already commanding attention from the players milling about the court. The slight shift in atmosphere drew their focus, though their expressions were a mix of confusion and mild intrigue. It wasn't unusual for you and Ukai to butt heads, but this? This felt different—more personal, more charged.

Ukai went to his team with a determined smile, clapping his hands together sharply to draw their attention. The players slowly gathered around him, curiosity and a bit of exasperation written on their faces.

"Alright, boys," he began, leaning slightly into the circle they formed, his voice carrying an edge of excitement. "Change of plans. The second practice match is going to happen later."

A chorus of groans erupted almost instantly, the team voicing their displeasure.

"But what are we supposed to do instead?" Hinata asked, his brow furrowed, looking like a puppy that had just been told he couldn't play.

Ukai's smirk grew wider as he crossed his arms. "I'm going to kick Nekomata's coach's butt in a two-on-two match. That's what we're doing."

There was a beat of silence, followed by the team collectively staring at him as if he'd grown a second head. Perplexity danced across their expressions, each one struggling to process what he had just said.

"Did you challenge her again?" Sugawara asked, arms folded, his tone carrying a mix of disbelief and scolding.

"Well, yes—" Ukai started, only to be interrupted by another wave of groans from the team. They were clearly less than thrilled by this announcement.

"But this time it's different," Ukai tried to defend himself, raising a hand as if to physically push their skepticism away.

"Oh yeah? How?" Kageyama's sharp voice cut through, his expression doubtful as ever.

Ukai blinked a few times, searching for the words. "Well, this time the challenge is a volleyball match," he explained, puffing up his chest slightly as though that explained everything.

The unimpressed silence that followed was deafening. The team exchanged glances, their disbelief only deepening.

"You do know she's a professional player, right?" Daichi finally asked, deadpan. His tone was calm, but the implication was clear: What in the world are you thinking?

Ukai waved him off dismissively. "Pfft, so what? I used to play with her in high school all the time. I know how she plays." His confidence seemed almost unshakable. "Besides," he added with a grin, "this is a great exercise for all of you. You'll get to observe and analyze how experienced players play in a real game. Watch and learn as I kick Y/N's ass and prove, once and for all, that I'm better."

He rubbed his hands together, grinning like a kid about to open a long-awaited birthday present. The team, however, looked less convinced.

"Coach," Sugawara started cautiously, his tone bordering on diplomatic, "you do realize there's a huge difference between 'knowing how she plays' and actually beating her, right?"

"Yeah," Asahi chimed in, raising an eyebrow. "She went to the Olympics. I'm not sure you can just... 'know' how to beat that."

Ukai's grin faltered, but only for a moment. "Details, details," he said, waving them off again. "The important thing is to give it my all. And speaking of giving it my all—" he turned back to face the team, his eyes scanning the group, "—I need a partner. I'm a setter, so I need one of the spikers. Daichi, Tanaka, or Asahi, who's it going to be?"

Hinata immediately shot his hand up, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Pick me, Coach! I'll do it!"

Ukai glanced at him with an apologetic smile. "Sorry, Hinata, but I need someone with more experience if I want to have any shot at defeating her."

Hinata's face fell, his lips curling into a pout as he crossed his arms. "Not fair," he muttered, clearly frustrated.

Ukai patted him on the shoulder briefly before turning back to the others. "Alright, so—any volunteers?"

Asahi hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. "I don't know if I'm... comfortable playing against Y/N Nekomata," he admitted. "She's... intimidating. I mean, what if I completely mess up? She's played on an international stage—I'm not sure I'd even be able to keep my cool."

Ukai opened his mouth to respond, but Daichi beat him to it. "I'll do it," he said simply, his tone steady and confident.

Ukai's face lit up instantly. "Perfect!" He threw an arm around Daichi's shoulders, practically pulling him toward the court. "With you as my partner, we're going to show her—and everyone else—that Karasuno is better. Let's go make history!"

The rest of the team cheered, their earlier skepticism giving way to amused enthusiasm. "Show her who's boss, Coach!" Tanaka hollered, grinning ear to ear.

Ukai glanced across the court, where you were still deep in conversation with your team, your demeanor exuding calm confidence.

You clapped your hands to draw everyone's attention. "Alright, change of plans! Before the second practice match, Blondie and I are going to have one of our own. Two-on-two." You paused, letting the words sink in as the players exchanged wide-eyed glances. "So I'm going to need a player."

There was a moment of silence, quickly broken by Taketora's loud and enthusiastic voice. "Me! I'll do it, Coach!" He shot his hand into the air, his eagerness practically vibrating off of him. At the same time, however, Kuroo shoved him aside with a sly grin, raising his own hand.

"No way, I'll do it!" Kuroo said, his eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and anticipation.

But you already had someone else in mind. As a wing spiker, your game was all about coordination, and you needed a setter who could match your rhythm perfectly. You turned toward Kenma, his quiet demeanor instantly grounding in the midst of the chaos.

"Sorry, guys," you said, shaking your head at Taketora and Kuroo, "but I need a setter for this." You stepped closer to Kenma, resting a hand lightly on his shoulder. "Kenma, will you play with me?"

Kenma blinked, clearly taken aback, but nodded shyly. "Of course," he said, his voice quiet yet certain.

You practically bounced on your feet, your excitement spilling over as you threw your arms around him in a quick hug. "Oh my god, thank you! You're the best!" you said, pulling back with a wide grin. "Together, we'll show him just how much better Nekoma is."

Kuroo smirked, his arms crossed as he watched the scene unfold. "Another challenge, huh? I don't know what's going on between you two, but I'm loving this rivalry."

You chuckled, your confidence radiating as you turned to face the rest of the team. "Well, first of all, it's not going to be much of a challenge," you said, your tone teasing as you shot a pointed look at Ukai. "But secondly, I think this is a great educational moment for all of you. Practice is important, but so is observing and analyzing experienced players in action." You raised your fist, your expression determined. "So watch closely. Watch as I kick this guy's ass."

The team broke into cheers, their voices rising in a cacophony of support and excitement. "Show him who's boss, Coach!" Taketora shouted, his enthusiasm infectious as the group moved back to the bench, giving you and Kenma space to strategize.

Kenma turned to you, his calm demeanor already balancing your fiery energy. The two of you began discussing tactics in hushed tones, your heads bent together as you mapped out your approach. On the other side of the court, Ukai was doing the same, though his expression betrayed a mix of frustration and determination.

From the sidelines, your grandfather watched with a furrowed brow, his arms crossed as he observed the interaction. There was a flicker of worry in his eyes as he stepped closer, clearing his throat to catch your attention. You turned slightly at first, and then fully when you realized who it was.

"Oh, Grandpa," you said, your voice softening as you straightened up.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" He asked, his expression worried.

"Sure," You looked at him confused. "What's up?"

He placed a firm hand on your back, steering you a few paces away from the others. His expression was serious, his eyes scanning your face as though searching for something. "Are you sure this is a good idea, Y/N?" he asked, his tone low and concerned.

You tilted your head, caught off guard by the question. "What do you mean? It's a great idea. The kids get to see high-level play up close, and I get to humiliate Keishin in front of everyone. It's a win-win." You flashed him a grin, but he didn't return it.

"Y/N, I'm talking about your injury," he said, his voice heavy with concern. "You're not fully healed yet. This could be dangerous."

You sighed, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Relax, Grandpa. I know what I'm doing. The doctor said I could still play casually, and this is as casual as it gets."

His frown deepened, his worry etched into every line of his face. "I know, but you haven't played since..." He trailed off, the weight of his unspoken words hanging in the air.

"And that's exactly it," you said, cutting him off gently. "I miss it, Grandpa. I miss being on the court. I want to play again."

He paused, his gaze softening as he looked at you. The conflict was clear in his eyes—his worry for your well-being battling with his understanding of how much this meant to you. Finally, he let out a sigh, his shoulders relaxing slightly.

"Fine," he said, his tone stern but resigned. "But don't push yourself too far. If you feel even a hint of strain on your legs, you stop immediately. Do you hear me?"

"I promise," you said with a reassuring smile, pulling him into a quick hug. "I'll be fine, Grandpa."

He nodded, though his worry lingered as he watched you walk back to the court, your excitement palpable as you rejoined Kenma. The two of you shared a determined nod, your focus sharpening as the challenge loomed ahead.

Ukai stood on the opposite side of the net, his arms crossed as his sharp eyes scanned the court. He'd seen you talking with your grandfather moments ago, his stern demeanor suggesting something more than the usual pre-match pep talk. Ukai wondered briefly what could have been said to make the old man look so concerned. Was it strategy? Or something else entirely? The thought lingered for a moment before it was abruptly shoved aside as your voice rang out, slicing through the quiet like a taunt wrapped in silk.

"So, Keishin, are we doing this, or are you planning on standing there like an idiot all day?" You smirked, standing tall with that insufferable confidence, your hand resting casually on your hip. Kenma stood beside you, already analyzing the court with his usual quiet focus, but even he glanced at you with an almost amused flicker in his eyes.

Ukai clenched his jaw, turning to Daichi with a quick nod before snapping his attention back to you. "Let's do this, princess," he shot back, his tone dripping with mock sweetness that only fueled your smirk further.

The referee's whistle pierced the air, sharp and clear, snapping the gym into a tense focus. The crowd's murmurs dulled, replaced by the rhythmic squeak of sneakers against the polished court. All eyes were on the four of you—two seasoned coaches turned rivals, and two students caught in the crossfire of a battle far more personal than professional.

Kenma served first. His movements were relaxed, almost lazy, as if he wasn't standing under the scrutinizing gazes of both teams. The ball arced cleanly over the net, dropping into a perfect spot just shy of the backline. Ukai lunged for it, his hand skimming the ball just in time to save it from hitting the ground. He quickly set it up for Daichi, whose powerful spike came barreling toward your side.

But you were already there. Your arms formed a solid wall as you jumped to block, the ball ricocheting back onto Karasuno's side before either Daichi or Ukai could react. The thud of it hitting the floor echoed in the gym.

"Seriously, Keishin? Is that all you've got?" you teased, shaking your head with an exaggerated look of pity. "You've been talking a big game for someone who's barely warmed up."

Ukai clenched his jaw, but his grin stayed firmly in place. "You might want to save the trash talk for when you've actually won, princess."

"Don't worry, I'll have plenty left over for when I do." you fired back, already moving into position for the next play.

The match progressed at a blistering pace. Ukai's years away from professional play hadn't dulled his instincts. He moved with a sharpness and fluidity that belied his time on the sidelines. His sets were calculated, perfectly placed for Daichi's crushing spikes. More than once, he caught Kenma off guard with a sudden shift in strategy, forcing the usually unflappable setter to scramble.

"Not bad, Blondie," you admitted after a particularly clever feint that had left Kenma diving to save the ball. "You haven't completely lost your touch since high school. Trying to impress me?"

He smirked as he jogged back to his spot. "Impress you? Please. I just wanted to remind you what a real player looks like."

You laughed, a sharp, cutting sound. "A real player? Cute. Let's see how long you can keep up with me, Egghead."

Kenma's calm precision was the perfect foil to Daichi's brute strength. He read Ukai's plays like an open book, sending the ball exactly where it needed to go every single time. And you—you were unstoppable. Your spikes weren't just powerful; they were precise, threading through gaps in the defense with pinpoint accuracy. Your serves skimmed the net before dropping sharply, leaving Ukai scrambling more than once.

But for all your dominance, Ukai noticed the cracks. It was subtle at first—a hesitation here, a grimace there. Then, in the middle of a particularly intense rally, it became undeniable. You leapt for one of Kenma's perfect sets, twisting mid-air to send the ball slicing past Ukai and Daichi's outstretched hands. You landed hard, and for a split second, your face twisted in pain. It was gone almost immediately, replaced by your usual confident smirk, but Ukai had seen it.

"What's the matter, princess?" he called, his voice dripping with mock concern. "Losing steam already?"

Your eyes narrowed, but your grin widened. "In your dreams, Blondie. I'm just getting started."

The next serve came from Ukai, and it was fast—unexpectedly so. The ball grazed the net and dove sharply, barely clearing the line. You lunged, managing to dig it out with a quick reflex, but the angle was awkward, forcing Kenma to scramble to set it back into play. Despite the shaky start, you adjusted your approach and sent a powerful spike directly at Ukai, who barely managed to deflect it.

"Twenty six and you already have old-man reflexes, huh?" you quipped as you readied for the next play.

"Twenty five and you've still got that big mouth of yours, huh?" Ukai shot back, smirking as Daichi set him up for a perfect attack. His spike slammed into the back corner of your court, just out of reach. He pointed at you as the ball rolled away. "Who's got the old-man reflexes now, princess?"

You gritted your teeth as the rallying continued, both sides trading point for point. Kenma's uncanny ability to read the game kept you ahead early on, but Ukai's determination—and his synergy with Daichi—kept them close. At one point, Ukai managed to block one of your spikes, sending the ball back toward the floor of your court. Kenma dove to save it, barely keeping the ball alive, and you seized the opportunity to retaliate with a sharp cross-court shot that slipped past both Ukai and Daichi.

"Getting tired yet?" you teased as you reset for the next serve, sweat glistening on your brow.

"Not a chance. I'm just warming up." Ukai retorted, cracking his knuckles for emphasis.

The first set came down to a tense final rally. Daichi's spike was received cleanly by Kenma, who set the ball high and perfectly in line for you. You soared into the air, your timing impeccable, and slammed the ball straight down the line. Ukai dove, fingers grazing the ball, but it wasn't enough to stop it from hitting the floor.

"And expectedly so, first set goes to me," you said with a triumphant grin as the whistle blew. "Not bad for an old man, though. You almost made me break a sweat."

Ukai scoffed, grabbing the ball and tossing it to Daichi. "Enjoy it while it lasts, princess. The next set is mine."

The second set started with renewed intensity. Ukai and Daichi came out swinging, determined to turn the tide. Ukai's serves grew sharper, forcing you and Kenma to work harder to stay in control. He even managed to catch you off guard with a sneaky dump shot, earning an easy point.

"Didn't see that one coming, did you?" he called smugly.

You rolled your eyes, retrieving the ball for your serve. "Exactly like I didn't see you stabbing me in the back coming back then but who's counting, right?" You said and he greeted his teeth but before he could respond anything, you launched the ball in the air. "Let's see if you can handle this."

Your serve was brutal, skimming the top of the net and diving into their court with deadly precision. Daichi barely managed to dig it out, and Ukai set him up for a spike. But Kenma was ready, his calm reception giving you the chance to send the ball hurtling back with a ferocity that left Ukai cursing under his breath.

The score remained tight, both sides pushing harder with each rally. Ukai's frustration was palpable every time you outmaneuvered him, and you made sure to rub it in whenever you had the chance.

Despite his determination, the cracks in Ukai's strategy began to show. Your professional experience and Kenma's unshakable composure gave you the edge, and it became clear that Ukai was fighting an uphill battle.

The final rally was nothing short of spectacular. Daichi unleashed a ferocious spike that seemed destined to hit the floor, but Kenma, ever calm, received it with ease. The ball soared back into the air, and Kenma set it perfectly for you. You surged forward, muscles coiling as you launched yourself into the air. Ukai and Daichi were ready, jumping to block, but you adjusted mid-flight, angling your body just enough to send the ball slicing diagonally across the court.

It hit the floor with a resounding thud, far out of reach of either player.

"Game," the referee announced, his voice cutting through the stunned silence. Cheers erupted from the Nekoma side, a cacophony of applause and shouts echoing in the gym.

All the boys from Nekoma ran to you, their cheers echoing through the gym as they lifted both you and Kenma into the air, a chorus of victory chants and laughter filling the space. Your legs dangled as you looked down at your team, their faces beaming with pride. Kenma, although visibly uncomfortable with the attention, offered a small smile, his hands gripping the shoulders of his teammates for balance. You threw your arms up, grinning ear to ear as you joined in their cheers, your voice ringing out in triumph.

On the other side of the court, Karasuno stood in stark contrast. Groans of disappointment rippled through the team as they gathered by their bench, a mixture of frustration and muted admiration lingering in their expressions. Ukai, however, was silent. His jaw clenched, arms crossed tightly against his chest. His face betrayed a mix of anger and disappointment, not just in the loss, but in himself.

As much as he hated to admit it—and oh, did he hate to admit it—you were good. Not just good. You were really, really fucking good. The kind of good he couldn't touch, no matter how hard he tried to convince himself otherwise. Years of professional training, of experience on the grandest stages, had honed you into something extraordinary. Still, was he going to admit that to you? Not in this lifetime.

"Hey, coach, you were good out there!" Sugawara's voice broke through his thoughts as the silver-haired setter approached, his tone genuine. Behind him, the rest of the team followed, their steps hesitant but supportive.

"Even though you didn't win, you both kept up pretty well," Asahi chimed in, his voice steady but kind, offering a glimmer of consolation.

"Yeah! Your sets were amazing, coach! And you, Daichi—your spikes were just, wow!" Hinata's enthusiasm bubbled over, his eyes wide with admiration as he bounced on his heels.

Ukai couldn't help but smile lightly, reaching out to ruffle Hinata's orange hair. "Thanks, kids," he said, his voice soft with gratitude. But his attention drifted, his gaze inevitably drawn back to you. Still hoisted up by your team, you were basking in the glory of your win, your laughter cutting through the sting of his loss.

He tore his eyes away, looking back at his own team. "But this is only the beginning. We'll show them one day that Karasuno is better than Nekoma. I promise." His voice carried a determination that sparked a fire in the boys. They erupted into cheers, their faith in their coach unshaken despite the defeat.

"Now, go get ready for your second practice match!" he added, his tone firm but encouraging. "That's why we're here, after all."

The team responded with a collective "Yes, coach!" before scattering to prepare. As they dispersed, Takeda appeared at Ukai's side, his expression somewhere between impressed and amused.

"I gotta say, I'm impressed you're this calm. I thought you'd be angrier about your defeat," Takeda remarked, tilting his head as he studied Ukai's unusually composed demeanor.

But Ukai wasn't listening. His eyes were locked on you once more. The Nekoma boys had left to get prapared and your grandfather approached you, his expression tinged with concern. You seemed to be reassuring him, your gestures confident but soft, as though dismissing his worries. It wasn't the first time Ukai had noticed this today, and the memory of your winces and hesitations on the court resurfaced in his mind. Was it about this?

"Ukai?" Takeda's voice cut through his thoughts, snapping him back to the present.

"W-What?" Ukai stammered, his brows furrowing as he turned to his assistant coach.

Takeda raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. "How are you holding up after your defeat?" he asked, a teasing edge to his tone.

Ukai rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. "It wasn't a defeat. It was merely a temporary loss. Until I win," he corrected, his voice laced with stubborn confidence.

Takeda sighed, chuckling softly as he closed his eyes briefly. "Sure," he said, his tone indulgent, before his expression shifted to one of genuine admiration. "But I gotta say, I knew she was good, but seeing her play live, right in front of me... That was something else. She's... she's amazing. The way she spiked the ball, the precision, the power—I was just... wow."

Ukai's face twisted into one of mild disgust as he turned to Takeda, his hand shooting up to halt the effusive praise. "Okay, calm down. What are you doing, Takeda?" he asked, his tone dripping with exasperation.

Takeda blinked, taken aback. "What do you mean?" he asked innocently.

"I mean, what are you doing praising her like that? Did she bewitch you already? Takeda, trust me, you do not want to get involved with her. Bad idea," Ukai said, placing a firm hand on Takeda's shoulder as if to physically steer him away from such dangerous thoughts. "Plus, stop exaggerating. She's not that good," he added, his tone defensive, even as the memory of your spikes haunted him. Takeda's knowing smile didn't help.

"Not that good, huh?" Your voice sliced through the tense silence, your tone laced with smugness. Ukai's eyes widened for a brief moment before he rolled them, already knowing where this was going. "Yet, I beat your ass very easily, so what level does that leave you on?" you continued, your smirk widening as his jaw tightened.

He let out a frustrated sigh and turned fully to face you, his sharp gaze pinning you in place. "Not a pretty good one, I'm afraid," you added, throwing fuel onto the already raging fire.

Ukai gritted his teeth, stepping closer to you with determination etched on his face. "I'll beat you next time, princess," he stated firmly, the promise almost a growl.

You chuckled, unfazed, and took a step closer, your confidence unwavering. "Mmm, so confident yet so wrong, I love it. It will only make it all the more fun crushing you again," you teased, tilting your head slightly as your smile grew wicked. His eyes narrowed dangerously, but you only found it amusing.

Before either of you could say more, the sound of sneakers squeaking against the polished floor drew your attention. The teams were returning to the court, preparing for the next match. Players stretched and practiced passes, the atmosphere crackling with anticipation.

You glanced back at Ukai, folding your arms. "Looks like my team's ready to beat yours again," you remarked nonchalantly. Then, with a playful glint in your eye, you added, "But before I can humiliate you again, I recall I won something."

Ukai's brows furrowed as he sighed heavily. "What do you want?" he asked, his voice resigned.

You leaned in closer, a mischievous grin spreading across your lips as the distance between your faces dwindled to mere inches. "It's no fun if I use it now," you whispered, your voice low and taunting. "No, I'll keep it for a special occasion."

His jaw clenched, and he bit the inside of his cheek to keep from snapping back. "I hate you so much," he muttered, his voice barely audible.

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. "I know," you replied softly, drawing out the words as if savoring them. You began to pull away, your smirk still firmly in place.

Suddenly, a panicked shout rang out across the gym. "WATCH OUT!"

Before you could even react, something hard slammed into the side of your head. The force knocked you off balance, and as you staggered forward, you collided with Ukai. Your lips crashed against his in an accidental kiss, and the momentum sent both of you tumbling to the floor in a tangled heap.

For a moment, everything froze. The world seemed to stop spinning as your brain processed what had just happened. Your eyes were wide with shock, staring directly into Ukai's equally stunned gaze.

Realization dawned, and you scrambled off him, your movements frantic as you landed on the floor beside him with a thud. You clapped a hand over your mouth, your face burning with embarrassment. Ukai propped himself up on his elbows, his expression a mix of disbelief and horror. His face was bright red, matching yours.

The gym was silent. Dead silent. Every single player and spectator had seen the accidental collision, and no one seemed to know how to react.

"Are you two alright?!" your grandfather's voice broke the tension as he hurried over, kneeling down by your side. His hands rested on your shoulder, shaking you gently.

You blinked rapidly, forcing yourself out of your daze. "Y-yeah," you stammered, avoiding Ukai's gaze at all costs. "I'm fine."

Your grandfather sighed in relief. "I saw you fall from across the court. I didn't know if you'd gotten hurt." He turned his attention to Ukai, who was still sitting on the floor, looking like he wanted to disappear. "What about you, Keishin? You fell hard, didn't you?"

Ukai blinked a few times, clearly still in shock. "I-I-uh... yeah, yeah, I'm fine," he mumbled, his hand covering his mouth as he looked away. "I'm fine."

The sound of rushed footsteps approached as the boys from both teams ran over.

"Oh my god! I-I'm so sorry! I didn't do it on purpose, I swear! The ball came and I-" Hinata's frantic apology was cut off by Ukai raising a hand.

"Hinata," he said firmly as he got to his feet. "It's fine. We're fine." Ukai turned to the group, his expression hard. "Anyways, the show's over. Go back to warming up."

"But-" Sugawara began, only to be silenced by Ukai's sharp glare.

"I said, now," Ukai barked, and the team scattered, returning to their practice.

He turned back to you as you got to your feet, your grandfather still fussing over you.

"Are you sure you're okay?" your grandfather asked again, his hand brushing over the spot where the ball had hit.

You sighed in exasperation, gently batting his hand away. "I said, I'm fine. Please stop worrying," you said firmly. "It was just a ball."

He didn't look convinced. "But you're all red. I think you should go to the nurse's office," he suggested, already trying to steer you toward the exit.

You stopped him with a light laugh. "And do what? It's Saturday, Grandpa. She's not here."

Your grandfather chuckled at the realization. "Fine, fine. But I'll be keeping an eye on you," he relented. Before you could reply, his phone rang. He pulled it out, frowning at the unfamiliar number. "I'm sorry, one second," he said, stepping away to answer.

You sighed in relief, the tension in your shoulders barely loosening before you felt the unmistakable weight of Ukai's stare burning into you. Turning sharply on your heel, you leveled him with a glare.

You sighed in relief, the tension in your shoulders barely loosening before you felt the unmistakable weight of Ukai's stare burning into you. Turning sharply on your heel, you leveled him with a glare.

"What are you staring at, Egghead?" you snapped, your voice sharp and brimming with irritation.

Ukai blinked, as if caught red-handed, before his brows furrowed defensively. "Nothing," he bit out, his tone laced with annoyance, though his faintly pink cheeks betrayed his emotions.

"Good," you muttered, folding your arms across your chest. "Then stop staring at me, weirdo."

Ukai's lips pressed into a thin line as he stepped closer, the faint blush on his face deepening. "Weirdo? You're the one making this awkward!" he shot back, his voice louder now, clearly trying to mask his own embarrassment.

"Me?" Your voice rose an octave as you jabbed a finger in his direction. "This is your fault! If you hadn't been standing there like an idiot, I wouldn't have—" You stopped yourself, the memory of the kiss flashing through your mind and making your skin burn. You immediately averted your gaze, cursing internally.

Ukai's jaw dropped. "My fault? You were the one who leaned in because—"

"Leaned in?" you scoffed, turning back to him with a fiery glare. "You think I wanted that to happen? Trust me, you're the last person I'd ever—"

"Oh, don't flatter yourself," he interrupted, crossing his arms over his chest. "I would never kiss you even if I got paid to do it."

"Thank god! That way I won't have to relive this horror ever again!" You shouted back.

Ukai's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, his face now fully red. Finally, he threw his hands up in frustration. "You're impossible!"

"And you're infuriating!" you shot back, your fists clenched at your sides.

For a moment, the two of you stood there, breathing heavily from the heated argument. The memory of the accidental kiss hung unspoken in the air between you, thickening the already suffocating tension.

Ukai was the first to break the silence, running a hand through his hair and looking anywhere but at you. "Let's just agree that this never happened," he muttered, his tone low and clipped.

You crossed your arms tightly, narrowing your eyes. "Oh, trust me," you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "I've already erased it from my mind."

"Good," he snapped, his gaze flickering to you for a brief moment before darting away. "Because it was awful."

"Damn right it was awful," you fired back, feeling your cheeks heat up again despite your best efforts to seem unfazed. "I'd rather jump out a window than let something like that happen again."

"Then we finally agree on something!" Ukai said, his voice rising as he mirrored your stance, arms crossed and eyes glaring.

"Good!" you shouted, taking a half-step closer.

"Good!" he barked back, his voice just as loud.

The two of you stood there, locked in a ridiculous staring contest, neither willing to back down. The silence that followed was deafening, but the tension—an odd mix of anger and lingering awkwardness—remained unbroken.

Suddenly, your grandfather's voice cut through the thick atmosphere like a knife. "Y/n,"

You turned sharply, startled by the serious tone of his voice. He stood a few feet away, his face pale and his expression unreadable.

"What's wrong?" you asked, your irritation quickly melting into concern as you stepped toward him. Ukai's gaze followed you, his arms uncrossing as he seemed to sense the shift in the mood.

Your grandfather didn't respond immediately. His mouth opened and closed as if searching for the right words, his hands trembling slightly at his sides. The silence stretched, and you felt your chest tighten with worry. You stepped towards him, now more worried as you guided him further away from Ukai.

"Grandpa," you said as you stopped, your voice softer now as you reached out to gently touch his arm. "You're scaring me. What happened?"

He hesitated, his eyes darting briefly to Uka, who was now focusing back on his team, before returning to you. Finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "Your mother called me," he said, his words heavy with emotion.

Your stomach dropped. "W-What?" you asked, your voice barely audible.

He swallowed hard, his hand clenching into a fist at his side. "And she... she wants to see you."

***

Chapter 11: Call From The Past

Chapter Text

You stood frozen, your mind struggling to catch up with the words that had just left your grandfather's mouth. It was as if time had stopped, the sounds of the world around you fading into an eerie silence. The distant echoes of sneakers squeaking against the polished gym floor, the rhythmic thud of a volleyball being hit back and forth—all of it became nothing but a dull hum, muted beneath the weight of his words.

"I'm sorry, what?" The words barely escaped your lips, your voice laced with disbelief, as though saying it aloud would change what you had just heard. Your heartbeat drummed violently against your ribs, and your fingers curled into fists at your sides.

Your grandfather exhaled deeply, his fingers trembling slightly before he repeated himself, his voice softer this time, more hesitant. "I... Your mother wants to see you."

The statement hung heavily in the air between you, thick and suffocating. It felt like the very walls of the gym had closed in, the ceiling pressing down, the ground beneath your feet unsteady. You stared at him, unmoving, your body locked in place as your mind struggled to process.

Your mother.

The woman who had vanished from your life when you were just a child. The woman whose face had faded from your memory like a ghost in an old photograph. The woman who had left, never looking back, as if you were nothing but an afterthought.

Your grandfather remained silent, allowing you the space to absorb the information. Yet, as much as he tried to remain composed, you could see it—the unease in his eyes, the way his fingers flexed as if holding himself together. He was barely holding on, but he knew he had to be strong for you.

After a moment, he inhaled sharply and stepped closer, placing a firm yet gentle hand on your shoulder. His touch was warm, grounding, but it did little to stop the anger beginning to coil inside of you.

"How about we step out for a moment?" he suggested, his voice kind but cautious, as though he already knew the storm brewing inside of you was about to break.

Your gaze remained distant, your mind lost in a whirlwind of thoughts, but you nodded absentmindedly. He turned to address the others in the gym, his voice steady despite the storm raging within him. "Everyone! Y/n and I need to step out for a bit. Keep practicing and listen to Ukai while I'm gone!"

From across the court, Ukai's gaze followed the two of you as you exited, his brow furrowing in curiosity. Something was wrong—he could tell from the way you walked, the tension in your shoulders. The way you barely acknowledged the others, the stiffness in your movements. But before he could dwell on it, the whistle blew, and he forced himself to turn back to the game.

You and your grandfather walked side by side in silence, the only sound being the distant echoes of the gym behind you and the rhythmic crunch of gravel beneath your shoes. The quiet stretched between you, heavy and unyielding, until you suddenly stopped in front of a worn brick wall just outside the gym.

Your grandfather turned, puzzled by your abrupt halt.

"Y/n, are you—"

"I'm sorry, I just..." Your voice cut through the stillness as you turned to face him fully, your expression unreadable. Your throat felt tight, like there was a vice squeezing around it. "Did you just say my mother, my actual mother—the one who disappeared when I was eight and never bothered to look back—just called you out of nowhere to say she wants to see me, us?"

Your grandfather took a deep breath, nodding solemnly.

You blinked. Once. Twice. Then, without warning, laughter bubbled up from your chest. It started as a chuckle, low and disbelieving, before it grew louder. Your grandfather's brows furrowed in concern. "Y/n, why are you laughing?"

You couldn't stop. The laugh that spilled from your lips was sharp, edged with something bitter, something broken. "I'm sorry, grandpa," you choked out between laughs. "It's just..."

But that laughter was hollow. It wasn't amusement—it was disbelief, frustration, anger. And slowly, that laughter twisted, darkening into something more raw.

"She wants to see us after all these years? Just like that?! No warning? No god damn explanation? Is she fucking serious right now?"

Your grandfather flinched at the venom in your tone, his own expression twisted with sorrow, but he let you speak, knowing you needed to get it out.

"I cannot believe this," you scoffed, shaking your head as you ran a hand through your hair. "She thinks she can just waltz back into our lives like nothing happened? Like she didn't abandon us? Like she didn't leave me?"

The laughter that had started with such force cracked, splintered, and then—

Tears. Hot and unrelenting, spilling down your cheeks before you could even register them. The weight of it all finally caved in on you, pressing against your chest like a crushing tide. Your knees buckled, and before you could hit the ground, your grandfather was there, his arms wrapping around you as sobs wracked your body.

"Y/n," he whispered, his voice thick with his own grief. He held you, his grip firm but warm, as though he could shield you from the pain with just his embrace.

Through the haze of your tears, you forced out the words that had been clawing at your throat. "Is that all she said?"

Your grandfather stiffened, his fingers digging slightly into your back before he pulled away just enough to meet your gaze. He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing as he recalled the conversation that had shaken him to his core.

"When I answered the phone and heard her voice..." He hesitated, his breath shuddering. "I thought I was imagining things. I thought—I must be going crazy." He let out a bitter chuckle, his eyes glistening. "But then she spoke again, so calm, like we had just talked yesterday."

Your fingers curled into his sleeve, gripping it tightly as he continued.

"I—I couldn't speak. I was frozen. And she just kept talking, like nothing was wrong. She said she had heard you were back in Japan and that she wanted to see us both."

Your grandfather's voice cracked then, his own tears slipping free. "I didn't know what to say. I still don't. But she didn't wait for my answer. She just... told me to come to her house for tea next week. And then she hung up."

Your eyes widened as you gently pulled back from your grandfather, his words echoing in your mind like a broken record.

"Tea? At her house?" The disbelief in your voice was unmistakable, each syllable dripping with incredulity. You searched his face for any sign that this was some cruel joke, but his solemn expression told you otherwise. He nodded once, his eyes heavy with emotion.

A scoff escaped your lips, sharp and bitter. "We're not going," you declared, pushing yourself up from the ground with a sudden burst of energy. Your hands moved swiftly to your face, swiping away the remnants of your tears. Crying over her? Over someone who had walked out without looking back? She didn't deserve it.

Your grandfather opened his mouth, hesitating. "W-What? But—"

"But what?!" You spun to face him, eyes flashing with a storm of emotions—anger, hurt, betrayal. "Are we seriously going to go into her house and meet her like nothing happened? Like she hasn't spent the past seventeen years pretending we don't exist?" Your voice cracked slightly, but you steadied yourself, refusing to let the pain take hold. "Are we really going to let her think she can just pick up where she left off with no consequences?"

Your hands clenched into fists at your sides. The idea alone made you sick. "Nah. No way. I'm not doing this. I'm not playing whatever game she's trying to play." You let out a humorless laugh, throwing your arms up in exasperation. "She stopped being my mother the day she walked out on us. She's a stranger. She's dead to me, and she should be dead to you too."

Silence stretched between you. The weight of your words hung thick in the air, and for a moment, you thought he might agree. But then your grandfather lowered his gaze to the ground, his shoulders trembling. Tears streamed down his wrinkled cheeks, the quiet pain in his expression making your chest tighten unbearably.

"But what if she needs us?" His voice was barely above a whisper. "Why would she call now?"

You groaned in frustration, running a hand through your hair. "Why does it matter?! Can't you see she doesn't care about us, Grandpa? If she did, she wouldn't have waited almost two damn decades to reach out! Who cares why she's calling? It's probably something selfish, something she needs. That's all people like her do—take and take and take, until there's nothing left to give." You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady, but the pain was creeping in again, clawing at your insides.

He stood still, absorbing your words, but you could see it in his eyes—he wasn't convinced. Even if logic told him you were right, even if experience told him to shut that door forever, a part of him couldn't. A part of him still longed for answers, for closure.

"Y/n..." He exhaled shakily. "I want to see her. I need to see her."

His words felt like a punch to the gut. Your breath hitched, your throat tightening. "Grandpa—" You reached for him, but he jerked away, his movement sharp, uncharacteristically harsh.

"I know!" His voice cracked, raw and filled with something deep, something desperate. "I know she's not calling because she suddenly cares. I know there's probably a reason—probably a selfish one. But still..." His lips trembled as he looked at you with tear-filled eyes. "It's been seventeen years, Y/n. Seventeen years since I lost my daughter without an explanation. I-I need to know why. I need to hear it from her mouth. I need to understand why..."

His face crumpled, and for the first time in your life, you saw your grandfather—the strongest person you knew—break. He covered his face with his hands, his body trembling as sobs wracked through him.

"Why..." he choked out, his grief pouring out in waves. "Why did she leave? Why didn't she love us enough to stay?"

Your heart shattered. All your anger, all your frustration, it didn't matter in that moment. All you could see was the man who had raised you, who had sacrificed everything to make sure you never felt alone. A man who, despite all the pain she had caused, still longed for his child. You hated her for doing this to him. For doing this to you.

Slowly, you moved closer, wrapping your arms around him. His body shook against yours as you held him, his pain radiating through you. "I'm sorry, Grandpa," you whispered, pressing your cheek against his shoulder, trying to hold him together when he was falling apart. "I'm so sorry."

You stayed like that for what felt like forever, just holding him as he cried. And then, with a deep, steadying breath, you pulled back slightly to look into his tear-streaked face. "Fine," you murmured, reaching up to wipe the tears from his cheeks. "We'll go. Okay? I'll come with you to see her."

His breath caught. "You will?"

You forced a small, sad smile. "Yeah. But listen to me, Grandpa—I'm only doing this for you. I don't want you to face her alone. I'm not forgiving her. I'm not letting her come back into my life like nothing happened. She doesn't get to be my mother again. Ever."

He nodded as he buried his head back into your neck, his grip on you tightening. "I understand."

You let out a long sigh, hugging him again. God, what did the universe have against you? Why was this happening now? Why did she call? What did she want? The questions swirled in your mind like a storm, unanswered, unwanted.

And yet, unbeknownst to you, you weren't the only one burdened by confusion.

Not far away, standing just outside the gym, Ukai Keishin had been watching. He hadn't meant to, hadn't even realized why he'd stepped outside in the first place. But when he saw you and your grandfather crying, holding onto each other like your lives depended on it, something unfamiliar twisted in his chest.

He hadn't seen you like that since... that night. Vulnerable. Broken. And it unsettled him in a way he couldn't explain.

His hands clenched into fists at his sides. A strange feeling of discomfort settled in his stomach, one he didn't want to acknowledge. So he didn't. He turned on his heel, heading back inside the gym, forcing himself to shove the image from his mind.

Whatever was going on with you—it wasn't his problem. Right? 

And yet, as he rejoined the team, he couldn't shake the lingering weight in his chest.

***

 

Chapter 12: Unchanged

Chapter Text

You were sitting in the car with your grandfather, riding in a deep silence from Tokyo. The weight of the moment pressed down on you, thick and suffocating, as the car glided down the road. It had been days since the phone call, but it still didn't feel real. And yet, today was the day. The day you were going to see your mother again. How could you possibly prepare for something like this? You couldn't. The unknown loomed before you, a massive void of uncertainty that threatened to swallow you whole.

Your hands rested in your lap, fingers twisting together, restless. The tension in the car was palpable, an unspoken storm brewing between you and your grandfather. Neither of you dared to break the silence, as if words would somehow make it all too real. The hum of the engine filled the void, a low, constant vibration that did nothing to soothe the anxiety tightening your chest. You shifted in your seat, your hands balled into fists on your lap as the pit in your stomach grew heavier with each passing mile.

Questions swirled relentlessly in your mind, looping over and over like a broken record. What would she look like now? Had she changed? Did she regret leaving? Would she even recognize you? Would you recognize her? It had been seventeen years after all—an entire lifetime since you had last seen her, spoken to her. The uncertainty was suffocating, an invisible weight pressing against your ribs, making it hard to breathe.

Your sleepless nights had only made things worse. Every time you closed your eyes, flashes of old memories—some faded, some still painfully vivid—came rushing back. Nights spent crying as a child, wondering why she had left. The feeling of abandonment that had never truly gone away. And yet, despite everything, there was still a small, fragile hope buried deep inside you. And even if you weren't ready to forgive her, there was still a small hope that she had an explanation, that there had been a reason. That maybe—just maybe—this meeting would bring some kind of closure.

A quick glance at your grandfather told you that you weren't the only one struggling. The dark circles under his eyes, the way his knuckles tightened around the steering wheel, the occasional heavy exhale—he was just as anxious as you, if not more. He kept his gaze fixed on the road, his posture stiff, his jaw set. He had always been strong for you, always kept himself together, but even now, you could tell that this was just as hard for him.

After what felt like an eternity, the car finally came to a slow stop. You swallowed thickly, your heartbeat drumming against your ears as you hesitantly turned to look out the window. Your breath hitched.

The house stood just as you had remembered it, untouched by time. A two-story home with warm beige walls, a slanted red-tiled roof, and small wooden shutters that framed the windows. A white fence with square cut-outs lined the property, encircling the small front yard where bushes had grown slightly unruly, as if neglected but not completely abandoned. The afternoon sun cast soft shadows over the stone walkway leading up to the wooden door—the same door you had once run through as a child, small feet pattering against the tiles inside.

Your fingers curled against your thigh, your nails pressing into the fabric of your pants. So, that was your answer. Your mother had still been living in this house all these years. And yet, she had never once tried to see you. Never reached out. Never came looking for you.

The realization felt like a punch to the gut.

"Y/n, you okay?" Your grandfather's voice was gentle, but it still startled you out of your thoughts. 

You turned to him and immediately noticed his hands—shaking slightly against the steering wheel. He had always been your rock, your foundation, and yet here he was, just as vulnerable as you.

You let out a breath as you reached out, placing your hand over his. His skin was warm, slightly rough with age, but steady nonetheless. "I'm fine," you assured him, forcing a smile though your voice wavered slightly. "Are you?"

His gaze softened, though his shoulders remained tense. He followed your eyes to his own trembling hands, and he exhaled, a tired, bittersweet smile tugging at his lips. "I'm only okay because you're with me."

You let out a chuckle, the sound hollow yet warm. "Don't try to flatter me, Grandpa. I still think we shouldn't be here."

You opened the car door before he could respond, stepping out into the crisp air. The scent of the garden flowers mixed with the faint, familiar smell of the wooden house, bringing back distant memories. The sound of the car door closing behind you signaled that Yasufumi had followed, his steady presence right behind you.

"I know," he admitted, his voice low. "But thank you for being here anyway."

You sighed, shaking your head before offering him a small smirk. "Yeah, yeah, you'll buy me a drink to repay me later."

A chuckle escaped him, but neither of you lingered on the moment. Your eyes shifted back to the house—the front door looming before you like a threshold between past and present. Each step you took forward felt heavier, your feet dragging against the earth as if weighed down by invisible chains. Your heart pounded harder with every movement, and though you didn't want to admit it, you were scared. Really, really scared.

You swallowed, trying to steel yourself, but the thoughts kept coming, faster and more suffocating with each passing second. Had she changed? What if she regretted calling? What if she looked at you and felt nothing? What if she had already moved on? Would you even know what to say? What if—

A hand on your shoulder. Warm, grounding.

You blinked, suddenly realizing you had stopped walking, your feet frozen in place right at the doorstep. You turned to look at your grandfather, his eyes filled with reassurance despite his own uncertainty.

"Whatever happens, I'm here, my little kitten," he said, the old childhood nickname wrapping around you like a shield, a reminder that you weren't alone.

You took a deep breath, nodding slowly, letting his words settle deep in your chest.

"Let's just get this over with," you whispered.

And then, with trembling fingers, you rang the doorbell.

You waited a few seconds, the silence stretching unbearably before you. Nothing happened. No footsteps, no sound of the door unlocking. Just stillness. You turned to your grandfather, eyes uncertain, and he gave you a small nod, signaling you to ring again. Swallowing down the lump in your throat, you pressed the button once more.

This time, a voice called out from inside, muffled yet clear enough to send a jolt through your body.

"It's open! Come in!"

Your eyes widened slightly. You turned to your grandfather once again, seeking reassurance. He placed a firm hand on your shoulder, his grip warm and steady. "It's okay," he murmured. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself, and reached for the handle. The door creaked open beneath your touch, revealing the dimly lit hallway beyond.

The air was thick with a familiar scent—something clean yet aged, as if time had settled into the walls themselves. The hallway stretched ahead, its wooden flooring polished but slightly worn with age. Slippers were neatly arranged by the entrance, just as they had been when you were a child. The walls were adorned with simple yet elegant decorations, delicate calligraphy scrolls and a few framed family pictures that you barely dared to glance at. A small table by the wall held a ceramic vase filled with fresh flowers—cherry blossoms, their soft pink petals contrasting against the dark wood.

As you stepped further inside, faint noises echoed from the kitchen—movement, the clinking of porcelain. But your feet faltered as you entered the living room.

It was exactly the same.

Your breath hitched. Nothing had changed. The same low wooden table sat in the center of the room, surrounded by neatly arranged cushions. The television rested against the far wall, its screen dark but dust-free. The bookshelf in the corner remained filled with the same collection of books, some of which you remembered flipping through as a child. The couch, covered with an embroidered throw, looked untouched, as if it had been frozen in time since the last day you had been here. The sight was surreal, almost eerie in its familiarity.

A sudden clatter of porcelain snapped you out of your daze.

From the kitchen, a figure emerged—your mother.

She walked in with a bright smile, balancing a tray filled with teacups and small plates of snacks, as if this was nothing more than an ordinary afternoon visit.

"Hello there! How are you two doing?" she asked, her voice light, cheerful. She walked to the table with practiced ease, setting the tray down carefully while you and your grandfather remained frozen in place, unable to process what was happening.

She continued speaking, completely unfazed by your silence. "I hope your grandpa drove safely, huh? Sometimes you can be a bit of a reckless driver when you're not paying attention," she chuckled, casting Yasufumi a knowing glance as she busied herself arranging the plates. "Oh, I remember when I was just a little girl and you would drive me to school every morning. Every time we were this close to causing an accident because we were running late!" She laughed at the memory, then turned toward you with a casual, almost nostalgic expression.

"You were lucky he somehow grew more careful on the road when he got you, Y/n." She grinned. "You used to go on and on about how much you loved driving with him. Always begging him to let you take the wheel!"

She walked back to the kitchen for a moment, her voice carrying through the house. "But then, when he introduced you to volleyball—gosh, it was like nothing else existed in the world!" She laughed again, returning with another tray filled with more drinks and food. "I remember how excited you were every time I came over. You would beg me to play with you and that little boy you liked so much."

She placed the new tray down and looked at you expectantly. "Do you still talk to him?" she asked, but before you could even attempt to answer, she dismissed her own question with a wave. "Well, probably not since you left Japan for so long, haha."

You still hadn't moved. Neither had your grandfather. You both remained rooted to the spot, caught in the dissonance of her words, her tone—so light, so casual, as if the past seventeen years had been nothing more than a brief separation.

She didn't seem to notice. "You know, I have to say, Y/n, you really surprised me." Her eyes gleamed with something unreadable as she finally met your gaze. "Obviously, I knew about your volleyball obsession, but I didn't expect you to become a professional player. I saw your performance at the Olympics, by the way!" She clapped her hands together lightly. "You were really good! Well, I don't really know the rules or what makes a good player, but since you were in the Olympics, I'm guessing you definitely made it, haha!"

She smiled brightly, then gestured to the table. "Would you both like some tea? I made your favorite, Y/n."

You stared at her, your heart pounding. Your mind reeled, struggling to comprehend the scene before you. Everything about this moment—her demeanor, her words—felt surreal, as if you'd stepped into an alternate reality where she had never left at all.

You glanced at your grandfather to make sure you weren't the only one completely lost and to no surprise, he looked just as bewildered as you felt.

Then, slowly, your eyes drifted back to her, to the bright, easygoing smile on her face.

What the fuck was going on?

The silence stretched on, thick and suffocating, pressing down on the room like a heavy fog. Your mother's bright smile, the one she had so effortlessly worn when she greeted you, slowly began to waver, the corners of her lips twitching downward as confusion clouded her features. Her brows furrowed, and she tilted her head slightly, eyes flickering between you and your grandfather as if searching for an explanation she couldn't quite grasp.

"What's wrong? Do you guys not like tea anymore?" she asked, her tone light, almost teasing, as though this was just another casual afternoon. The sheer normalcy of her words felt like a slap to the face, rendering you more speechless than you already were.

She moved to stand, brushing invisible lint from her sleeves. "I can make some coffee if you prefer," she offered, already turning towards the kitchen. But before she could take another step, you clenched your fists, nails biting into your palms as you grit your teeth.

"What are you doing?" Your voice was low, restrained, but brimming with something volatile. Your mother paused mid-step, her shoulders stiffening slightly before she turned back around, her expression shifting into something unreadable.

"What do you mean? I'm just getting coffee—"

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" The words erupted from you like a dam breaking, loud and sharp, slicing through the room. Your grandfather flinched slightly at your outburst, as if just now snapping out of his own daze.

Your mother's eyes widened in shock, her lips parting as if to speak, but you didn't give her the chance.

"Why are you acting like nothing happened? Like you didn't disappear without a trace for almost two decades, only to suddenly call us out of the blue and act like we spoke yesterday?" Your voice cracked, frustration, disbelief, and years of unresolved emotions tangling together in your throat. You felt your hands tremble at your sides, fingers curling tighter into fists. You refused to let the tears spill—not in front of her, not when you had spent so long trying to bury the pain she left behind. "So I'm asking again—what the fuck is wrong with you?!"

A heavy hand landed on your shoulder. Your grandfather. His grip was firm, grounding, a silent plea for you to breathe, to keep your anger from consuming you whole. You exhaled sharply through your nose, your jaw clenching as you tore your gaze away from your mother, afraid that if you looked at her any longer, you'd break apart completely.

Your mother stood frozen for a moment, observing you carefully, her expression unreadable. Then, she let out a soft breath and folded her hands in front of her. "How about you two sit down first? Then we can talk," she suggested gently, motioning to the table.

You didn't move, glaring at her, but your grandfather gave you the slightest squeeze on your shoulder before guiding you toward a chair. Reluctantly, you followed, your body tense as you sank into the seat across from her.

"Some tea?" she asked again, reaching for the teapot, her voice carefully even.

You averted your gaze, jaw tightening. "I'd prefer explanations."

"I-uh... I'll take some," your grandfather said, his voice quiet, wary. Your mother smiled softly, pouring him a drink before—despite your clear rejection—pouring you one as well. The soft clink of porcelain filled the tense silence as she set the teapot down and took her own seat.

The air in the room was thick, suffocating. Only the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall punctuated the stillness. You sat stiffly, arms crossed tightly over your chest, your fingers tapping anxiously against your forearm. Your mother fidgeted, her hands resting in her lap, her fingers twisting together as she searched for the right words. Your grandfather looked equally uneasy, shifting slightly in his seat, his eyes darting between the two of you, the tension between you so thick it was nearly tangible.

And then, your mother finally spoke.

"So, how have you been doing, huh? How's the team in Nekoma this year, Dad?" she asked, her voice light, too light, as if trying to steer the conversation into safer waters. Then, she turned to you with that same overly casual tone. "And you, what have you been doing since you came back to Japan—"

Your patience snapped.

Your fist came down hard on the table, rattling the teacups and making both your mother and grandfather jump. "Enough!" Your voice rang out, sharp and unwavering. The impact stung your knuckles, but you barely registered it.

Your mother's eyes widened, startled, as she instinctively pulled back slightly. Your grandfather inhaled deeply but said nothing.

You leaned forward, your gaze locking onto hers, unwavering, filled with raw bitterness. "Stop avoiding the quesitons. What do you want from us?" The words left your lips in a low, accusatory tone.

Your mother blinked. "What? Can't I ask my family how they're doing?"

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. "No, you can't. Stop acting like you suddenly care and just get to the point already."

Her expression didn't falter, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes—something unreadable. She sighed, pressing her lips together before raising an eyebrow ever so slightly. "That's not a very nice thing to say to your mother, Y/n."

You exhaled sharply through your nose, the heat rising in your chest. Slowly, you placed both palms on the table and leaned in closer, your voice dropping to a dangerously quiet whisper.

"You're not my mother." The words came out steady, deliberate, each syllable dripping with years of pent-up resentment. "You stopped being my mother the day you left us without a single goddamn explanation."

Silence. For a moment, she just looked at you, her expression unreadable. Then, she inhaled slowly, her fingers tightening around the rim of her cup.

She bit her inner cheek but remained composed, letting out a slow breath. "I understand your anger, Y/n," she said carefully, her tone softer now, measured.

Your lips curled into a bitter smile as you turned to your grandfather. "Oh, wow! Did you hear that, Grandpa? My mother is a saint—she understands why we're angry."

"Y/n," your grandfather said, his voice firm but gentle, "let's hear her out first."

You scoffed, crossing your arms tightly over your chest, but you said nothing more. Not yet.

Your mother let out a deep breath, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sweater as she met your gaze. "Thank you, Dad," she murmured, her voice laced with forced gratitude before clearing her throat. Then, her eyes locked onto yours, an attempt at sincerity flashing in their depths. "As I was saying," she continued, voice softer, "you have every right to be angry with me, I get it." A sigh escaped her lips before she stretched her arms outward, almost as if offering an embrace. "But I'm here now."

Your eyebrows knit together, the words hitting you like a slap. That was it? That was all she was going to say? Just a casual declaration, as if her absence could be erased so easily? The anger within you bubbled up like a volcano threatening to erupt, but beneath it, buried so deeply you almost refused to acknowledge it, was hurt. A deep, aching wound that had never healed.

"Oh, you're here now! Well, that just magically undoes the last seventeen years! Wow, thank you for your unbelievable generosity, Mother!" The sarcasm dripped from your voice like venom, each word sharper than the last. Your hands clenched into fists on the table, nails digging into your palms. She rolled her eyes, clearly exasperated.

"Hey, okay, I've been a shitty mother to you, I know that. You don't have to point it out every two seconds," she muttered, arms crossing defensively.

Your eyes widened, disbelief settling into your chest like a lead weight. "Oh, I'm sorry! Did I hurt your feelings? Should I have just pretended the past seventeen years never happened like you did?!" Your voice cracked, the rawness bleeding through despite your attempt to sound only angry. Maybe you were saying seventeen years too much, but she deserved it.

"Okay, okay! Yes, I left! I got it!" she shot back, throwing her hands up in frustration.

You scoffed, shaking your head. "Thank God! I was beginning to think it had slipped your mind with how you were acting!" Your tone was scathing, laced with every ounce of bitterness you had swallowed over the years. Your chest heaved, your breath uneven.

She exhaled sharply, shaking her head as she turned to your grandfather. "You know, I always wondered what you would be like as an adult, but I realize now that you haven't changed one bit." She said before turning to her dad. "Still a piece of work, huh? I don't know how you did it." Her attempt at humor was met with silence. Your grandfather's eyes widened in shock, his grip tightening around his teacup, but he said nothing.

You turned your head back to her, slowly, deliberately. "I'm sorry? Am I hearing this correctly?" A scoff escaped your lips as you felt your blood boil, but you tried to remain composed. You inhaled through your nose, trying to keep control, but your hands trembled.

"Yes, Y/N. I don't know why you're acting like this. You're behaving like a child," she said, shaking her head as though you were the one being unreasonable.

A cold, disbelieving chuckle escaped you. Was she serious? Was she completely disconnected from reality, or was she just that oblivious? You could feel a lump forming in your throat, but you swallowed it down. She didn't deserve to see you cry.

"I can't believe it." You rubbed your mouth with the back of your hand, trying to keep your composure. "You know, we've been here for a while now, and I still haven't heard a single fucking apology or even an ounce of an explanation. So how dare you criticize how I'm acting when I have every fucking right to feel this way!" Your voice was trembling, not just with anger but with something much deeper—a grief you had never been able to voice.

A heavy silence settled over the room. Your mother sat still, lips pressed into a thin line. Then, she let out an exasperated sigh. "I have an explanation, all right?" she finally said.

You leaned back in your chair, arms crossed, but your pulse was hammering. "Oh, please, enlighten us," you bit out sarcastically.

She exhaled through her nose, clearly frustrated. "Fine," she started, her voice calmer. "As you know, I had you when I was very young. I was barely eighteen, Y/N." She paused, her expression softening as if she expected sympathy. When she was met with your hardened glare, she continued. "I was scared, I was lost, but I went through with it anyway because your father said he'd support us."

She reached for her tea, taking a sip before continuing. "So, he bought this house, and for a while, everything was good. Until he decided it was too complicated, too much responsibility. He left, and I was all alone."

You rolled your eyes. "But you weren't alone. Grandpa was here."

She nodded. "You're right. He knew damn well I was unfit to be a mother at my age, so he took care of you. And for a while, it felt good—to be able to live my life, go to school, see you, build my career. But then..." She hesitated, eyes dropping to the table. "I met my husband—well, ex-husband now." She let out a humorless chuckle. "When I met him... it was love at first sight. He was perfect. Everything I was looking for. But he was a traditional man, Y/N, and I knew he would run if he learned about your existence. So I... I didn't tell him."

She looked away, almost ashamed. "I couldn't bring myself to tell him about you. I saw this as my chance, my hope for a better life." Her eyes flicked back to yours. "I had to take it, Y/N! Can't you understand? I was a prisoner here, bound by chains I didn't want. I wanted to break free. I was no good mother to you anyway—"

A sudden, sharp laugh erupted from your throat, cutting her off. Your grandpa and mother both froze, watching as you doubled over, laughing so hard you could barely breathe.

"What's so funny?" she asked hesitantly.

You waved a hand, trying to catch your breath. "Wait, wait," you managed between laughs. "So you're telling me that you abandoned your family—your father, who raised you, and your eight-year-old child—for a man?" You looked at her with mock curiosity.

"Well, yes and no—"

Another laugh escaped you. "Oh my God." You shook your head in disbelief. "I was right all along. And I can't believe I ever even had an ounce of hope in you."

Her eyes widened slightly. "Y/N..."

You leaned forward against the table, locking eyes with her. "God, you are a terrible person, you know that?" Your voice wasn't even angry anymore. Just tired. Just broken. 

Your mother let out a deep breath, her fingers trembling as they clutched the hem of her sweater. She glanced at your grandfather briefly, as if searching for reassurance, before turning back to you. Her lips parted, hesitating, before she finally spoke. "Look, I know it wasn't the best decision—"

"You're right, it wasn't," you cut her off, your voice shaking as you fought against the lump forming in your throat. Your chest felt tight, like a vice was crushing it from the inside. The emotions swirling within you—anger, betrayal, sadness—threatened to spill over, but you forced yourself to keep control. "I'm obviously not denying that it must not have been easy to have and raise a child at barely eighteen. I get it, I really do. But you absolutely had no right to leave when you did."

She inhaled sharply, trying to interject. "I know, but—"

"There's no 'but' here!" you snapped, your voice rising. "How do you think I felt when you didn't come the next week? Or the next? Or the week after that? Or every fucking day after you left, huh?!" Your voice cracked slightly, but you pushed forward. "How do you think I felt when I realized my own mother had abandoned me? How do you think I felt when the only other family grandpa had left because of me?" The bitter words hung in the air, suffocating the room in a heavy silence and Yasufumi's eyes slightly widened.

Your mother watched you, her eyes filled with something unreadable. Guilt? Regret? Or just the pain of being confronted with the truth? Either way, she said nothing.

"You never cared about me," you finally said, voice quieter now, but no less cutting.

She opened her mouth, shaking her head, desperate to protest. "Y/N—"

"Don't try to deny it." You held out your hand sharply, "Please," You sighed, your voice dropping. "I really don't have the energy." You continued and she froze, lips pressing into a thin line.

You took a deep breath, the weight of years of self-doubt pressing down on you. "You know, for years, I blamed myself. I thought maybe if I'd been a better daughter, if I hadn't been born, you wouldn't have left Grandpa. That I was the reason you ran." Your voice wavered slightly as you glanced at your grandfather, who sat helplessly, his expression etched with sorrow.

Your fists clenched, nails digging into your palms. "But now I realize that it's not my fault. It never had been. It was all about you from the beginning. Because you didn't want the responsibility." The words dripped with betrayal, your eyes narrowing as you looked at her.

She gritted her teeth, her grip tightening around her mug, knuckles turning white. "I'm not selfish," she said, her voice tense.

You let out a sharp, humorless laugh, tilting your head slightly. "Oh really? Then why did you call us now, out of all the times you could've reached out? Huh? Tell me, I'm really curious to know the answer." Your eyes locked onto hers, searching for the inevitable excuse but she stayed silent. "Go on, tell us your 'selfless' reasons." You provoked.

She swallowed hard, her gaze shifting downward as her hands gripped tighter on her mug. "Y/n.." She stared but the words got caught in her throat.

 You crossed your arms, not budging. She wasn't going to get away with it this easily. Whatever reason she had, you were going to make her tell you. And so, you fixed her, waiting. 

Her fingers were tapping nervously against her mug while her gaze flickered back and forth between you and your grandfather. "You..." She stopped again as if the words were physically hard to say but you only raised an eyebrow. 

"I'm waiting." You were starting to get impatient.

She took a deep breath. "You have a brother."

Your breath hitched, the words slicing through your fury like ice. Your grandfather let out a quiet gasp beside you. "W-what?!" you choked out, your voice barely above a whisper.

She exhaled, as if bracing herself. "You have a brother. And he's here. In Miyagi."

You blinked, your entire body freezing. A brother? You had a brother? Your heartbeat pounded in your ears as you turned back to her, hands trembling. Out of all the things she could've said, this was the least you expected. "H-How old?" you asked, barely able to push the words out.

She hesitated. "What?"

"How old is my brother?" you repeated, your voice more forceful now.

She lowered her gaze, shame flickering across her face. "He just turned fourteen."

Everything inside you shattered. Fourteen. This entire time. This entire fucking time, and you never knew. You brought a hand to your mouth, trying to keep yourself from spiraling.

"Why did you call us here?" you asked again, the question feeling heavier now.

Your mother's lips quivered. "Y/N, I—"

"Why?!" you shouted, your patience finally snapping.

She flinched, then sighed deeply, rubbing her hands over her face before whispering, "My husband recently left. He abandoned Haru—your brother—and me. At first, I thought I could handle it. But Haru... he took it badly. He stopped smiling, stopped eating, stopped going to school. He's always out with delinquents, coming home late or sometimes not even coming back at all. I just..." Her voice broke as she let out a quiet sob. "I don't know what to do anymore. I feel like I'm losing my little boy, and I can't do anything about it."

You stared at her, disbelief washing over you.

"I tried everything, but nothing worked. I'm out of options," she admitted, looking at you with pleading eyes.

Your body remained rigid, unmoving. You knew she was leading up to something.

"Haru used to have a passion for volleyball," she continued, voice trembling. "He used to play all the time with his friends. He was even in the club at his middle school. But after his father left, he quit. He stopped playing." She slowly rose from her chair, taking a cautious step toward you. "I heard that you were back in Japan from a friend, and I... I saw how you turned out. What you made of yourself. And I..." She paused, clenching her fists. "I thought maybe, if someone could put him back on the right track, it was you."

Your breathing grew uneven, your heart pounding against your ribs.

"Which is why I called your grandpa a few days ago. I was hoping you could help him." She finished softly, looking at you as if she truly believed you were her salvation.

A silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating. Your mother's face was tear-streaked, eyes desperate for some sign of understanding. But all you felt was an overwhelming sense of betrayal.

A bitter chuckle escaped your lips. "I knew it," you whispered barely audible.

"What?" Your mother asked softly.

"I knew it!" You repeated, louder this time. "You haven't changed one bit, Mom. You're still the same selfish and self-centered person you always were."

Her eyebrows knit in confusion, but before she could speak, you raised a hand to stop her.

"I'm done," you said, your voice void of any emotion.

You turned sharply, heading toward the hallway.

"Y/N! Where are you going?!" Yasufumi shouted after you.

You didn't turn back. "To get wasted and forget this conversation ever happened." And with that, you slammed the door behind you.

***

 

Chapter 13: A Shot of Whiskey

Chapter Text

The evening air was crisp, laced with the subtle scent of damp pavement and distant cigarette smoke. The city hummed quietly, the rhythmic steps of your worn-out shoes muffled by the concrete beneath you. The sun had set long ago, yet the weight of the conversation still clung to you like a thick fog. You needed to clear your head, to push away the whirlwind of emotions clawing at your chest because of that ludicrous conversation. 

Who did she think she was, seriously? Disappearing for nearly two decades only to reappear now, asking for help? And for what? Her son—your brother— who you had no idea existed. The very idea sent another wave of anger rippling through your veins. Your fists clenched at your sides, your fingers twitching from pent-up frustration. The cool night air had done little to temper your emotions.

You needed a distraction. Something visceral, something intoxicating. And you knew exactly where to find it.

Your feet carried you forward instinctively, muscle memory guiding you through dimly lit streets until, at last, a familiar sight emerged from the darkness. There it was, its warm glow was spilling out from its wooden-framed windows onto the cobblestone sidewalk. The bar you used to frequent as a teenager, though since everyone basically knew each other, it wasn't like you could have lied about your age back then. So you hadn't drunk more than beer there. But now that you were an adult, you could finally drink to your heart's content and tonight, you weren't going to go lightly.

"Goodbye awkward conversation with mom, hello black out." You said to yourself, rubbing your hands together with an excited smile as you pushed the door and walked inside.

Nostalgia immediately hit you. The rustic charm of the place hadn't changed one bit. The polished wood of the bar glistened under the golden light of old-fashioned lanterns, their soft flickering adding to the intimate, slightly worn-in atmosphere. Hanging above the counter were rows of assorted liquor bottles, their glass reflecting the warm hues of the bar's ambient lighting. Shelves lined with vintage knickknacks and hanging plants gave the place an almost homely feel, a strange juxtaposition to the lively crowd that filled every inch of available space.

The scent of aged alcohol, fried food, and something faintly sweet lingered in the air. Laughter bubbled from a nearby table where a group of men clinked their beer mugs together, their boisterous voices cutting through the low hum of conversation. In the corner, the old karaoke stage stood proudly, a microphone resting atop a wooden stool, the rich burgundy curtain behind it swaying slightly with the draft from the entrance. A pair of speakers sat on the stage floor, angled to project the next drunkard's song choice to the entire bar. To the right, a pool table was surrounded by a mix of onlookers and players, their expressions intense as they calculated their next move.

It was crowded—predominantly with men—but the energy in the air was infectious. It made it easier to forget. To let go.

You sauntered toward the bar, weaving past animated patrons until you reached one of the few free stools. Sliding onto the seat, you tapped your hands lightly on the wooden counter, anticipation buzzing in your veins.

It wasn't long before a bartender approached you. She was striking, around your age, with a soft goth aesthetic that set her apart from the rest of the bar's rustic charm. Her layered, shoulder-length hair was dyed a deep shade of purple, the color fading slightly at the tips. A septum piercing glinted under the golden light, and small silver hoops adorned the shell of her ears. Dark eyeliner framed her sharp, discerning eyes, and the black lace choker resting against her collarbone completed the look.

She leaned onto the counter with a smile as you excitedly tapped your hands on wood.

"Happy to be here, I see," she mused, her voice smooth, yet teasing.

You exhaled, a lopsided smirk tugging at your lips. "You have no idea."

Her brow arched slightly. "Rough day?"

"You could say that," you admitted with a dry chuckle.

She hummed in understanding, casually tossing a dishcloth over her shoulder before leaning in slightly, her hands braced against the polished counter. "Well, what can I get you then?"

Your eyes flicked up to the shot menu hanging above the bar. The list was extensive, each name more intriguing than the last. Your gaze landed on two that stood out.

"Mmm, I'll try a Highway to Hell and a Chocolate Paradise to begin with," you declared, your voice steady, but with a tinge of excitement.

She let out a low whistle, shaking her head with a grin. "Oof, you're courageous with the first one. That one's got a serious kick."

"That's why I'm getting the second one too. It'll sweeten it." you chuckled.

She nodded approvingly, already reaching for the bottles she needed. "Good plan."

You watched as she worked, her movements practiced and efficient. She poured with precision, layering the liquids with expert ease. A minute later, she placed the two shot glasses in front of you.

The first one—Highway to Hell—was a striking, almost fiery red, its color deep and rich, with a clear gradient toward the top. At the bottom, a snake-like trail of wasabi swirled ominously, making it look all the more daunting. The second shot—Chocolate Paradise—was smoother in appearance, a rich, creamy brown with a delicate drizzle of chocolate syrup floating in it like abstract art.

"Here you go," she said with a smile, wiping her hands on her apron.

"Thanks..." You gestured slightly, prompting her to introduce herself.

She caught on, offering a small, almost secretive smile. "Mai Hayashi. But just call me Mai."

"Well then, thank you, Mai." You picked up the first shot, studying the almost menacingly red liquid. "I'm gonna enjoy these."

Her lips twitched in amusement. "Oh, I bet you are."

You exhaled deeply, mentally preparing yourself for the burn that was about to follow. But for the first time all evening, you felt something other than anger. Something lighter. Something thrilling.

And that was exactly what you needed.

You picked up the Highway to Hell, its fiery red liquid swirling in the glass under the dim bar lights. The anticipation bubbled in your chest, mingled with a thrill that sent a shiver down your spine. Taking a steadying breath, you brought the shot to your lips and downed it in one go. The heat exploded in your mouth almost instantly, the spice crawling down your throat and leaving a searing aftertaste that made your fingers tighten around the empty glass. Eyes watering slightly, you slammed the shot glass down and immediately grabbed the Chocolate Paradise, its dark, rich color a promise of relief. The sweetness washed over the fire, soothing your burning tongue with its velvety cocoa and smooth alcohol blend. You let out a slow breath, savoring the contrast.

Mai watched you with an amused smirk, arms folded as she leaned against the bar. "So, how'd you like it...?" She asked, tilting her head as if gauging your reaction and at the same time gesturing for your name.

"Oh, just call me Y/n, and it was fantastic." you said, voice still slightly raspy from the burn. A grin spread across your face as you set the glass down. "Get me two more of these, please."

Mai raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained. "Whoa, you trying to get wasted as fast as possible, huh, Y/n?" she teased, but you just nodded with a playful glint in your eyes.

"Hopefully it ends with a blackout." You crossed your fingers and laughed lightly. 

Mai rolled her eyes but smiled. "Gee, now I'm curious as to what happened to you today." She grabbed the bottles again, beginning to mix your next round.

You hesitated for a second, swirling the lingering taste of chocolate in your mouth before shrugging. "Trust me, you don't wanna know."

Mai gave you a skeptical look, one eyebrow arching higher than the other. "Oh? Try me."

You exhaled through your nose and let out a small chuckle. "Fine," you relented, a wry smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "Well, a few hours ago, I went to see my mother, whom I had not seen in seventeen years because she abandoned me. But she suddenly decided to call a few days ago, out of the blue, saying she wanted to see me. And what do I learn today? That she only reached out because she wants me to help her son—my brother, who I didn't even know existed."

Mai paused mid-pour, her eyes wide before she tilted her head slightly, as if processing what you had just dumped on her. "Damn, girl. Now I get it," She finished preparing the shots and slid them across the counter. "You know what? Here, these two are on the house."

Your eyes lit up with genuine gratitude. "Thanks, girl." You picked up the Highway to Hell and repeated the process, the burn less of a shock this time, more of an embrace. With four shots now in your system, warmth spread through your veins,already relaxing your shoulders and dulling the sharp edges of the day. A small smile played on your lips. You ordered a cocktail next, deciding to slow down just a little. The bar was alive around you—deep laughter, the occasional cheer from the pool table, the rhythmic clatter of cues hitting balls. It was comforting in a way you hadn't expected.

Mai slid the cocktail in front of you, and you took a sip, savoring the fruity kick and slight bitterness. Leaning against the counter, you exhaled. Tonight was going to be a good night—you could feel it. After the disaster of a day you'd had, the universe had to throw you a bone. Nothing was going to ruin the night—

"Y/N?!"

The all-too-familiar voice made you choke mid-sip. You coughed, wiping your mouth as you turned to face the interruption and deeply sighed.

There he was. Keishin Ukai, standing a few feet away with an exasperated look plastered on his face. His arms were crossed, his body language radiating irritation. "What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice laced with disbelief and annoyance.

Of fucking course. You took a slow breath, willing yourself to keep calm. You were absolutely not in the mood for this. "I'm playing tennis, can't you see?" you shot back, sarcasm dripping from your tone as you grabbed a napkin and dabbed at your shirt where you'd spilled a bit of your drink.

Ukai let out a sharp breath through his nose, clearly unimpressed. "Ha, ha, very funny." His tone was flat, unimpressed. "No, I'm asking what you're doing here in Miyagi. Why aren't you back in Tokyo like you should be?" He stepped closer, his brows furrowing deeper as if he was genuinely trying to figure you out.

You still didn't look at him, swirling your cocktail with your straw lazily. "I'd sure love to tell you! It's nonya."

Ukai's confusion was evident. "Nonya what?" he asked, his frustration only growing.

A slow, amused smile stretched across your lips as you finally turned to face him fully. "None your fucking business."

His eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening slightly, frustrated that he fell for the oldest trick in the book. "You little—"

Before he could finish whatever he was about to say, another voice called out from across the bar.

"Yo, Keishin! What are you doing?"

Both of you turned in the direction of the call. Standing near the pool table was a tall man with dirty blond hair, waving casually. Recognition flickered in your eyes before you could even process it. Yusuke Takikoue. An old high school friend of Ukai's that you knew from afar. Next to him, another familiar face—Makoto Shimada, his signature glasses reflecting the bar's warm lights.

Yusuke smirked, nodding toward the game. "Hey, stop flirting with this woman and come play!"

You turned back to Ukai, a slow, smug smile curling your lips. "Yeah, listen to him, Blondie," you mused, picking up your cocktail and taking a leisurely sip. "Stop bothering me and go back to losing to your pool game."

He swiftly turned, his eyes flashing with anger, his ears practically fuming, as he leaned forward on the counter, closing the space between you two. But instead of the outburst you were expecting, he let out a low chuckle, sending a ripple of anticipation through the air. His voice, deep and smooth like aged whiskey, carried a knowing edge.

"You think I'm losing?" he asked, the question hanging between you like a taunt.

Before you could muster a response, he leaned in even closer, the scent of his cologne mixing with the alcohol lingering in the air. His breath ghosted against your ear, and his voice dropped lower, barely above a murmur. "Have you forgotten how I used to beat your ass every single time in high school, princess?"

Unexpectedly, a shiver ran down your spine, unbidden and unwelcome and your eyes slightly widened at the unwanted reaction. However, you fought to keep your face neutral, ignoring the way your body reacted to the unexpected closeness. It had to be the alcohol, obviously. It couldn't be anything else. Besides, you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing you falter.

He leaned back, a smirk playing on his lips as he crossed his arms over his chest, watching you. "Judging by your silence, I guess you have."

You narrowed your eyes, regaining your composure. "Well, your so-called 'victories' must have been so insignificant and underwhelming that they slipped right out of my memory." Your voice was smooth, confident, and his smirk deepened.

Mai, who had been watching the interaction with amused curiosity, approached with her ever-casual charm. "Can I get you anything, hun?" she asked Ukai, wiping her hands on a nearby cloth.

"Yeah, I'll take a pressure beer, please," he said, fishing out a bill from his pocket. Just as she reached for it, he added, "Oh, and throw in a shot of whiskey—for the lady."

Your eyes immediately snapped to him, your glare sending daggers, but his expression remained infuriatingly smug. He knew exactly what he was doing.

You had tested your whiskey tolerance back in high school during one of your more reckless nights out with Ukai, and it had been an absolute disaster. A few too many drinks and you had ended up hunched over a toilet bowl, cursing the fiery liquid with every miserable heave while Ukai had laughed at you the entire time while simultaneously taking care of you for the entire night, staying with you and holding your hair when you had needed to throw up. It was what best friends did. It had been one of the worst nights of your life, yet ironically one of the best nights as well. However, ever since then, whiskey had been your Achilles' heel. One sip, and your stomach turned inside out.

Mai raised an eyebrow at the request but complied, setting his beer down before placing the shot of whiskey directly in front of you. Ukai leaned against the counter, his smirk unwavering. He was waiting, challenging you.

You weren't one to back down. Especially not tonight.

Maintaining eye contact, you picked up the shot glass and tossed it back in one go, the burn searing down your throat like liquid fire. You slammed the glass back onto the counter with a sharp clink, forcing yourself to swallow down the nausea threatening to rise.

"Thanks for the free drink, Blondie," you said, giving him a sickly sweet smile before sliding the empty glass toward him. 

His eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. He hadn't expected you to actually go through with it.

You leaned in, voice dropping just enough to match the tension between you. "Oh, and by the way, I remember now. And sorry to break it to you, but I won our last game."

Ukai's jaw tightened as his fingers tapped idly against his beer glass. His grin twitched, but it didn't fully drop. "You must be misremembering. Pretty sure I wiped the floor with you."

Before you could fire back, a familiar voice interrupted.

"Yo, Keishin! Come on, man! You were supposed to get us a guy to play with, not seduce—whoa..."

Yusuke's loud complaint faltered as he finally got a good look at you. His eyes widened in shock before recognition set in, and his face broke into a wide grin.

"Y/n?! No way!" he exclaimed, stepping closer. "I can't believe you're here! How long has it been? Since the end high school, no?" He asked excitedly.

You barely had time to respond before he pulled you into a warm, firm hug. "Yep, haha" You let out an awkward laugh as he pulled back, still beaming.

"Man, it is so good to see you and I certainly didn't expect to see you here. I mean, I knew you were back since you're basically all Keishin talks ab—"

Before Yusuke could finish that sentence, Ukai elbowed him hard in the ribs, making him let out a grunt of pain. Ukai cleared his throat, shooting his friend a glare before turning back to you. "Right, yes, we're all happy to see each other, bla bla bla," Ukai started, grabbing Yusuke's shoulder. "We'd love to stay and chat with you, princess, but we have a game to play so we'll be on our merry way while you can continue your 'tennis game.'" His sarcasm was palpable, but you only smiled.

Yusuke, still rubbing his side, suddenly lit up with an idea. "Hey, actually—we need a fourth player for a two-on-two game. Wanna join us?"

Ukai immediately turned, eyes wide. "No, she doesn't—"

"I'd love to!" you cut him off, grinning triumphantly.

Ukai turned back to you, his glare sharp enough to cut steel. "You little—"

"Perfect!" Yusuke clapped his hands together, pleased. "Come with us, then!"

"What do you think you're doing?" Ukai asked, his arms crossed and his expression annoyed.

"Nothing," You shrugged as you pushed off your chair, turning to Ukai with a slow, taunting smile. "Since we can't agree on who won our last game, what better way to settle the score right here and now, huh? I'm going to show you that I'm in fact better." You said, grinning.

He scoffed, "Fine with me, princess," He responded before he leaned it closer to you with a smirk. "I can't wait to see where your cocky attitude will go when you realise you're delusionnal."

Your voice lowered into something almost sultry, teasing. "Probably exactly where yours went when I crushed you Saturday." You smiled knowingly.

Ukai's arms crossed over his chest as he exhaled sharply through his nose. "You're so insufferable, I swear to god. I don't know how you do it."

Your smile widened. "Mm, I learned from the best."

You turned on your heel, heading toward the pool table with a clear objective in your mind. Behind you, Ukai let out a long-suffering sigh, muttering something under his breath.

You called out without looking back. "Are you planning on standing there like an idiot for long or can you come over here already so I can beat your ass!"

He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Why must you treat me this way, universe?" He mumbled to himself as he joined the pool table, ready to face you.

***

Chapter 14: What Have You Got To Lose?

Chapter Text

You arrived at the pool table, the warm overhead lighting casting a golden glow over the green felt surface, illuminating the polished wood of the surrounding bar. The low hum of conversation mixed with the occasional clink of glass and the distant notes of a jukebox playing a nostalgic tune. The scent of aged alcohol and faint cigarette smoke lingered in the air, a familiar yet oddly comforting atmosphere.

As you took your final steps toward the pool table, a voice called out your name with unmistakable enthusiasm. "Y/N! I can't believe it's you! It's been such a long time!" Makoto's voice was brimming with genuine excitement as he stepped forward with an easy smile, his familiar face barely changed despite the years. His arms opened wide before he pulled you into a warm, friendly hug, his embrace brief but filled with the warmth of long-lost camaraderie.

You laughed softly as you hugged him back. "Yeah, it's been ages, huh?" You pulled away slightly, studying his face—he still had that easygoing smile, but there were faint signs of maturity around his eyes, small creases that hadn't been there back in high school. "How are you?"

Makoto leaned against the pool table, swirling the ice in his drink before taking a sip. "Oh well, you know—same old, same old. But it's great to see you back in town. Feels like a blast from the past."

"Yeah, definitely," you agreed, the nostalgic warmth settling deep in your chest.

"So, how's life been treating you? Big celebrity, huh?" he asked, tilting his head with genuine curiosity.

You smiled, a soft chuckle escaping your lips. "Oh well, busy, as always. But, you know, it's good to be back home," The words felt strange leaving your mouth; you weren't entirely sure if you meant them.

He chuckled. "I can only imagine!" Then his eyes gleamed with interest. 

You shifted your weight onto one foot, letting yourself settle into the conversation. "And what about you? How's life been on your end?"

He took another sip from his glass before answering. "Oh, you know, the routine," He shrugged. "But I've actually been doing great. Got a job in finance right after graduating high school. Not the most entertaining gig in the world, I know, but it pays the bills, right?"

You nodded, lips curling into an amused smile. "Right."

Makoto's expression shifted into something more mischievous, his eyes gleaming as he tilted his head. "And what about your love life? Any boyfriends or girlfriends yet?" His eyebrows wiggled teasingly.

Ukai, who had been silently observing the conversation from the side, suddenly seemed to perk up. From the other side of the table, His gaze flickered toward you, his posture stiffening ever so slightly, his fingers tightening around his beer glass.

You on the other hand, rolled your eyes playfully at the question. Always the curious one. Even in high school, he would press you non stop about if you had any crushes or someone in mind. Of course, you never told him about your heart's true desires back then. Knowing Makoto, he would have rushed to tell the target the second you'd told him. And thank god you hadn't. It certainly would have been awkward today. 

"Why? You interested?" you teased, tilting your head slightly.

Makoto choked on his drink, his face turning a deep shade of red as he coughed violently. "N-No, no, I'm just asking—"

You laughed, the sound lighthearted and familiar. "Relax, I'm just teasing you, Makoto. You haven't changed a bit since high school."

He let out a relieved breath, running a hand through his hair as his blush faded slightly. "Geez, you're as merciless as ever."

Ukai shifted, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the bar, his gaze still fixated on you.

"But to answer your question," you continued, "no, I don't have a boyfriend at the moment. Honestly, I've always been so busy with my career that I never really had time to date anyone."

Makoto raised an eyebrow, surprised by the admission. Ukai did too, though his expression remained unreadable. He hadn't expected that. You, of all people, hadn't dated anyone all these years? Not that he cared. Obviously. It was just... unexpected.

"I mean, I get it. You really made something out of yourself, huh? Olympic athlete, world-class player... It's still surreal!" Makoto's admiration was evident in his voice. "Honestly, I couldn't believe it when I saw you on TV for the first time! I mean, I knew you were going to be a famous player, but it's always a shock to see a familiar face on the big screen." He chuckled, taking another sip of his drink. "I watched your Olympic matches, and I gotta say, you were absolutely mind-blowing."

His words made you smile, though a bit bashfully. "Thank you, haha. I try my best."

"Oh, don't be modest!" He patted your shoulder. "You know, you should totally come by the Karasuno Neighborhood Association one day and play a match with us! It would be so much fun!"

Before you could respond, a loud voice interrupted. "Are we playing or what?!"

Your head turned to see Ukai, now leaning against the pool table, his face mildly annoyed, his fingers drumming against the wood.

"Always so impatient," you said, rolling your eyes.

"I'm not impatient," he retorted. "I just want to play instead of listening to your reunion chit-chat."

"Yeah, that's called being impatient, you moron."

"Whatever. Since you two are such good friends, how about you play together then?" He raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable.

You exchanged glances with Makoto before shrugging. "Sure."

"Yeah, fine by me," Makoto agreed.

Ukai's smirk deepened. "Good. Because you're gonna need all the help you can get."

You scoffed. "Please. We're going to destroy you."

Ukai scoffed, an amused smirk tugging at his lips. "Of course, and I'm the Queen of England."

"Well, no, but you could be the court jester," you said, feigning deep thought. "You certainly have the brains for it and the clown look to go with it."

Makoto and Yusuke exchanged knowing glances, stepping back slightly. "Oh boy," Makoto muttered.

"Here we go again," Yusuke whispered back.

Ukai's eye twitched slightly as he walked around the table, coming to stand directly in front of you, close enough that you could see the sharpness in his gaze. "You know, your overconfidence is getting on my nerves, princess."

"Oh yeah? Are you sure it's not just your massive ego feeling threatened by me?"

His eyes darkened, his smirk sharp like a blade. "Me? Threatened by you?" He let out a short laugh. "Don't flatter yourself. I could be you with my eyes closed." Then, as if something clicked in his head, his gaze flickered past you to a particular setup in the bar. "You know what?" A slow smirk stretched across his face. "How confident are you that you're going to beat me at pool?"

You crossed your arms. "About as confident as I am that you're an idiot."

Ukai exhaled sharply, amused but undeterred. "Fine. If you're so confident, then let's raise the stakes. Like usual."

Your eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What do you have in mind?"

Ukai's grin widened. "For each ball one team scores, the other team has to drink a shot."

You tilted your head. "So far, that's nothing—"

"Ah-ah." He clicked his tongue, waving a finger in front of you. "I'm not done."

Your eyes followed his gaze as he nodded toward the stage in the back of the bar. And then, it hit you.

"Whoever loses the match..." he began, the delight in his voice evident, "has to perform a song on stage in front of everyone. A song that the winner gets to choose."

Your breath caught. Oh no...

Your eyes locked onto the karaoke stage, the bright neon lights casting an almost theatrical glow over the microphone standing proudly in the center, the large screen looming behind it. Ukai knew you, maybe too well, because out of all the things he could have wagered, he had chosen the one thing you despised more than him—singing in front of a crowd. Your throat felt tight at the very thought of standing up there, your voice cracking under pressure while dozens of eyes bored into you. 

That little bastard.

But you weren't about to let him see you sweat. Oh no, if he wanted to play dirty, then you'd just have to beat him at his own game.

Slowly, you turned to face him, schooling your expression into something neutral, unreadable. Ukai was watching you with an infuriating smirk, clearly reveling in the trap he had set. The dim lighting of the bar softened the sharp angles of his face, but the mischievous gleam in his eyes remained unmistakable.

"What? Scared to sing a little song?" he taunted, his voice dripping with mockery. His confidence was unbearable, but you had dealt with it before—you knew exactly how to handle it.

Rolling your eyes, you scoffed, crossing your arms. "More scared that I'll have to hear your horrible voice when I inevitably win."

His smirk widened. "Oh, so you accept the challenge?"

You hesitated for the briefest second, and he caught it. He always caught the little things.

Taking a deliberate step closer, he leaned in, his voice dropping to a low murmur only you could hear. "Come on. What have you got to lose, huh? Since you're so confident you'll win."

The scent of cigarette smoke and alcohol clung to him, mixing with the faintest hint of his cologne—something warm and a little spicy, like cinnamon and musk. It was familiar in a way that irritated you. Your fingers twitched with the urge to shove him away, but you refused to let him know he was getting to you.

Instead, you met his gaze, unwavering. Then, with a smirk of your own, you pushed his face back with the tips of your fingers, causing him to stumble a half step. "Besides my hearing when I have to listen to you sing, nothing."

Reaching for the pool cue, you grabbed one and tossed another to him. He caught it effortlessly, spinning it between his fingers as he studied you with an amused glint in his eye.

"Let's do this, blondie." You said, and Ukai let out a low chuckle, clearly unfazed by the jab.

A laugh burst out of Yusuke before he quickly covered it with his fist. Even Makoto cracked a smile, shaking his head as he muttered, "Oh, this is going to be good."

"Finally," Yusuke groaned. "They've been flirting—sorry, arguing—for the past ten minutes."

"God, they haven't changed," Makoto mused, watching the scene unfold with mild disbelief.

Yusuke scoffed. "Tell me about it. I feel like I'm back in high school."

Makoto's amused expression shifted slightly, a touch of something more contemplative flickering across his face. "Do you think they'll ever forgive each other?"

Yusuke exhaled, running a hand through his hair as his gaze flickered between you and Ukai, who were still locked in your usual banter, toeing the line between irritation and amusement. "Who knows?" he admitted. "The only thing I do know is that they still got it bad for each other after all this time, and yet, they're too stupid to realize it—or too damn stubborn to admit it."

Makoto turned to him, eyes slightly wide in disbelief. "They did, they still do? But they hate each other."

Yusuke gave him a deadpan look. "Were you even there in high school? Or, I don't know, the past eight years?" He scoffed, shaking his head.

Makoto frowned but stayed silent, letting Yusuke continue.

"She's all he ever talks about, even when she was gone. Keishin is literally obsessed with her—always has been. Even if he claims otherwise."

Makoto's brow furrowed as he absorbed the words before nodding slowly. "And what about Y/N?"

Yusuke glanced back at you, watching as you stepped up to the pool table, standing toe to toe with Ukai, practically daring him to push you further. The fire in your eyes was the same as it had always been, and if anything, the time apart had only made it burn brighter.

"I think she's exactly the same," Yusuke murmured, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.

Before Makoto could respond, both you and Ukai suddenly turned toward them, eyes ablaze with irritation. "Are we playing or what?!" you both shouted in unison.

Makoto and Yusuke exchanged a glance, chuckling as they raised their hands in surrender.

"Yep," Makoto said, shaking his head as he grabbed his drink. "exactly the same."

Yusuke let out a low chuckle before clapping him on the back. "Come on, let's get this show on the road. This is going to be one hell of a game."

Yusuke and Makoto rejoined the pool table while you made your way to the opposite side, the soft overhead lights casting a warm glow over the felt surface. With a practiced movement, you slid the wooden triangle down the table, the fifteen balls nestled snugly within. The soft clack of them shifting against one another filled the air as you expertly positioned them into the usual starting formation. Across from you, Ukai placed the cue ball at the designated spot, his fingers drumming lightly against its smooth surface before stepping back.

Your eyes met his from across the table, an unspoken challenge passing between you, laced with an undeniable tension. A smirk tugged at his lips, mirrored by your own as you lifted the triangle, allowing the balls to settle into place. You straightened your posture, exhaling slowly. You had to win this game. There was no way in hell you were getting up on that stage.

Ukai gestured to the table with an exaggerated flourish. "Ladies first."

You scoffed as you picked up your cue stick, stepping forward. "Oh, such a gentleman," you said, tilting your head mockingly as you passed him. "Could've fooled me if I didn't know any better."

He merely chuckled, watching as you positioned yourself at the table. You lined up your shot, rolling your shoulders as you tried to block out the buzz in your head from the cocktails and shots you had taken earlier. The alcohol had begun to settle in, making your limbs feel just a little too light, your thoughts just a little too loose. But you had played under worse conditions before.

Taking a steady breath, you pulled the cue stick back, then struck. The white cue ball shot forward with precision, colliding with the triangle formation in an explosive break. The balls scattered in all directions, rolling across the table with soft, rhythmic clicks. Your sharp gaze followed the movement until one ball finally dropped into a pocket—the purple four-ball.

A victorious smirk played on your lips as you turned to Ukai, who rolled his eyes, though you could see the slight tightening of his jaw.

"That's not impressive," he remarked with forced nonchalance. "I would've been more surprised if you hadn't scored."

"Speak all you want, Keishin," you retorted smoothly, "but I scored. Which means Makoto and I have the solids, and Yusuke and you need to take a shot." You folded your arms across your chest, tilting your head in exaggerated expectation.

Ukai sighed dramatically, shoving his hands into his pockets as he turned towards the bar. "Whatever, it's only the beginning, princess. I'm going to beat you." He stalked off, grumbling to himself under his breath, while Makoto and Yusuke exchanged amused looks, shaking their heads.

Makoto clapped a hand on your shoulder, chuckling. "Good shot."

You chuckled along, pleased with yourself. "Thanks," you replied, giving him a confident nod. "Now it's your turn. And you better score again." You pointed an accusing finger at him, narrowing your eyes playfully.

"I'll do my best," he assured you. "Besides, I really want to see Keishin sing too."

The mere thought made you break into an evil grin, laughing darkly. Oh, this was going to be good.

Ukai soon returned, carrying a small tray with ten shots lined up neatly. He set them down with a flourish. "That's it?" you asked, raising a brow. "You know you'll have to drink way more than that by the end of this game."

"I know that," he replied with a smirk. "We're starting with these. When we run out, I'll order more—for when we score all our balls and win. Maybe they'll give you enough courage to sing in front of everyone."

You crossed your arms, unimpressed. "Sure, but for now, it's your turn to drink up, blondie."

With a mutual sigh of defeat, Ukai and Yusuke each grabbed a shot glass, tilting them back in unison. They swallowed, their expressions tightening as the burning liquid traveled down their throats. Ukai coughed slightly, setting his glass down with a thud while Yusuke cleared his throat, shaking his head.

"Alright, my turn then," Makoto said, stepping up to the table. He leaned forward, scanning the layout of the balls, his eyes narrowing in concentration. With measured precision, he took his shot—only to watch as the cue ball just barely missed its target.

"Damn it," he muttered under his breath.

You placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry. We'll score next time." You gave him a soft, encouraging smile.

Now, it was Ukai's turn. He prowled around the table like a predator surveying its prey, eyes sharp as he studied the positions. Then, he spotted it—the perfect shot. The cue ball was lined up precisely with the fifteen-ball and a corner pocket.

He bent forward, gripping his cue stick lightly but firmly, fingers expertly positioned. With a precise flick of his wrist, he sent the cue ball forward. It struck the fifteen-ball cleanly, and just as he predicted, it rolled smoothly into the pocket.

Immediately, he straightened up, grinning victoriously. "Hell yeah!" He high-fived Yusuke, who was equally pleased. Wasting no time, Ukai grabbed a shot glass from the tray and held it out to you.

"Drink up, princess," he taunted, his smirk widening.

Annoyed but refusing to show it, you snatched the glass from his hand and threw it back, the liquid burning as it slid down your throat. You swallowed, pressing your lips together to suppress a cough.

Ukai tilted his head slightly, watching you with amusement. "How'd you like the burn?"

You set the glass down firmly. "I think I'll like it better when I see you on that stage," you shot back, moving around the table to survey the layout.

"Maybe in your dreams," he quipped, leaning casually against the edge of the table.

You turned to him, stepping closer. "Any dreams with you in it are automatically nightmares."

He leaned in slightly, a devilish glint in his eye. "Oh, so you dream about me?"

Your smirk never faltered. "About your downfall? All the time."

Before he could reply, Yusuke cleared his throat, drawing both your gazes toward him. He looked mildly uncomfortable at having to interrupt the tension between you two.

"Um, I scored," he announced. "So you guys have to drink another shot."

You sighed in defeat while Ukai grinned victoriously. This game was far from over.

The game raged on, each turn a battle of precision, skill, and sheer determination. The atmosphere around the pool table was electric, charged with a mixture of competition and growing intoxication. Each shot sent a ripple of excitement through the group, and every time someone sunk a ball, cheers and groans erupted in equal measure. The score remained neck and neck, neither team holding the lead for long. It was as if fate itself was playing, ensuring no one gained a definitive advantage.

With every point scored, the shots piled up. Glass after glass was downed, and as the alcohol seeped into everyone's veins, laughter grew louder, movements looser, and the insults between you and Ukai even sharper. Yet, beneath all the bickering and teasing, there was something else—something unspoken but undeniably there. The tension between you two had evolved, no longer just one of rivalry but something equally frustrating and exhilarating. And despite every biting remark, despite every sharp exchange, you couldn't deny that you were having fun. You could see it in the way his smirk lingered a little longer, the way his eyes gleamed with amusement even as he rolled them at you. It was a battle, but it was a battle you both thrived on.

Though it was probably because of the alcohol, no doubts about it.

As the game neared its climax, the stakes became crystal clear. Both teams had cleared their respective balls. Seven shots each. Seven burns down the throat. Seven times the world had spun just a little faster. And now, only one ball remained. The infamous 8-ball.

Your head swam, your limbs felt heavier, and your grip on the pool stick was just a fraction looser than it had been at the beginning. But none of that mattered now. You couldn't afford to let it matter. You refused to get up on that stage and humiliate yourself in front of everyone.

Unfortunately, the universe had a sick sense of humor because it was Ukai's turn.

You swallowed hard as he stepped up to the table, his usual lazy confidence still in place despite the alcohol slowing him down. He crouched slightly, eyes flickering across the felt surface as he analyzed the shot. You could practically see the gears turning in his head, calculating the angle, the force, the movement needed to send the ball rolling cleanly into the pocket. Your heart pounded, the sound of it filling your ears like a drumbeat of impending doom.

Ukai bent down, positioning himself perfectly, his fingers steady despite the liquor coursing through his system. The pool stick slid back and forth between his fingers, a quiet, measured rhythm that only built the anticipation to a maddening peak. You felt a drop of sweat slide down your temple as you silently pleaded for a miracle.

Then, with a sharp, confident motion, he struck.

The cue ball shot forward, colliding against the black 8-ball with perfect precision. Your breath caught in your throat as you watched it roll smoothly toward the corner pocket. This was it. Your fate was sealed. You could already hear the first humiliating notes of whatever ridiculous song he'd pick for you to sing.

But then, a miracle happened.

The 8-ball clipped the very edge of the pocket, its trajectory just slightly off. Instead of sinking in, it bounced back a few centimeters, wobbling uncertainly before coming to a stop just shy of its target. Your eyes widened in disbelief, but before you could even fully process the miracle, your gaze snapped back to the white cue ball.

And your jaw dropped.

The cue ball had not stopped. It had continued rolling. Straight. Into. The. Pocket.

For a second, there was nothing but stunned silence. Ukai's expression froze, his hand twitching as if he could somehow stop time and reverse what just happened. Then, he brought a hand to his mouth, eyes wide in horror.

"Shit."

That was all he could say before your triumphant scream filled the air.

"Yes! Yes, yes, yes!" You practically leaped in joy, grabbing the cue ball out of the pocket as if it were some sort of trophy. Spinning to face him, you held it up with a victorious grin. "You know, if you wanted to sing that badly, you could've just said so. Don't worry, I'll pick a great song for you."

Ukai gritted his teeth, his entire body tensing with frustration. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, and for a moment, you thought he might actually throw something. But he was utterly powerless as he watched you pick up the ball.

Swallowing back your lingering dizziness, you placed the cue ball back onto the table, aligning it with the perfect angle. Or at least, what you hoped was the perfect angle. The alcohol had done its job, clouding your vision and making everything blur slightly. You shook your head, trying to force your thoughts to steady, but the room still swayed.

Damn it. Twelve shots had definitely not been a good idea.

Still, you had to finish this.

You lined up the stick between your fingers, exhaling slowly. The weight of three sets of eyes burned into you, but you couldn't look at them. You could only focus on the ball. The 8-ball had rolled back further than you would have liked, making the shot riskier than you had anticipated. If you didn't hit this just right, you might screw it up entirely.

But there was no other choice.

Your hands pressed together briefly, as if offering a silent prayer to whatever force of luck might be listening. The pool stick moved back and forth a few times, the tension in the air so thick it was nearly suffocating. Then, mustering every last ounce of focus you had left, you struck the cue ball.

It felt like time slowed down.

The white ball glided across the table, colliding with the 8-ball and sending it on its fateful path. Everyone held their breath, watching it roll closer and closer to the pocket. It moved agonizingly slow, as if teasing you, dancing on the edge between success and failure.

"Come on, come on," you muttered, hands clutched together as if trying to will it in.

For a heartbeat, it teetered at the very lip of the pocket, threatening to stop.

And then—

It tipped over and disappeared inside.

***

Chapter 15: Fake it till you make it

Chapter Text

For a moment, the world seemed to stop. Your breath hitched as your wide eyes fixated on the now-filled pocket where the 8-ball had disappeared. The realization dawned slowly, like a delayed explosion. "We won..." you murmured in disbelief, your voice barely above a whisper.

Makoto stood frozen beside you, his eyes just as wide, his mouth slightly open before it curled into a grin. Then, as if struck by the same bolt of energy, you both turned to each other, and without thinking, you erupted into pure elation.

"WE WON!!" you shouted at the top of your lungs, your voice breaking slightly from the excitement. Laughter bubbled out of you as you lunged toward Makoto, who caught you effortlessly and spun you around. The world blurred into streaks of color and light as you felt weightless, lost in the joy of victory.

Ukai, still standing at the other side of the table, had been watching in stunned silence. But then, as he saw Makoto's arms around you, his grip on his pool stick tightened. His jaw tensed. His fists curled.

Oblivious, you clung to Makoto as he finally slowed his spinning, placing you back onto the floor. In your drunken glee, without thinking, you grabbed his face between your hands and planted a victorious kiss on his cheek.

Ukai's eyes widenened and before he and everyone knew it, he was there, stepping between you both, hands firmly pushing you apart.

"Alright, alright, we get it. You won," he said, his voice laced with forced indifference, but the tightness in his jaw was impossible to miss. His hands lingered slightly longer on your shoulder as he guided you away from Makoto. "Congratulations."

But you were too far gone in your happiness to notice his sudden interjection. Instead, you twirled around him in circles, dancing and repeating, "I won, I won, I won!" like a giddy child, relishing every second of your triumph.

Ukai stood there, arms crossed, watching you dance around him with exasperation, though the slight twitch in his eye suggested something more. "Yeah, yeah, whatever," he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Just tell me the damn song so we can get this over with."

Still breathless from laughing, you stumbled to a stop right in front of him, barely able to keep your balance. You bit your lower lip, a mischievous twinkle in your drunken eyes. Raising a hand, you dramatically tapped your fingers against his surprisingly firm and muscular chest, mimicking the rhythm of a drum roll.

"You, my dear little Keishin, will sing..." You drew out the moment, watching his expression shift from annoyance to mild panic. "...Baby, by Justin Bieber."

His reaction was priceless. His jaw dropped, his shoulders slumped, and for a full two seconds, he just stared at you in horror. Then, before he could even formulate a protest, you burst out laughing, nearly doubling over. Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes as you struggled to catch your breath. Oh god, you were so drunk.

Ukai ran a hand down his face in pure defeat. "You gotta be kidding me..." he mumbled and you shook your head, confirming his fate. He let out a long, suffering sigh before turning on his heel. "Let's get this over with but I'm gonna get back at you for this."

You only laughed in response as he strode toward the bar, where Mai stood, and leaned over the counter to inform her of his impending humiliation. From a few feet away, you could only watch as Mai's face lit up with pure delight before she erupted into uncontrollable laughter. Ukai clenched his jaw, waiting for her to regain composure before begrudgingly confirming the song choice.

Then, with leaden steps, he made his way onto the karaoke stage.

By this point, you, Yusuke, and Makoto had shuffled closer, ready to witness the spectacle up close. Your head was spinning, but nothing—not even the eleven shots you'd downed—could make you miss this.

The lights dimmed slightly, and then—bam! A bright spotlight turned on, bathing Ukai in an unforgiving glow. He winced at the sudden brightness and lifted a hand to shade his face, his other hand gripping the microphone like it was his last lifeline.

The chatters in the bar stopped, leaving a silence as they all turned their gazes to Ukai. The large screen flickered to life behind him, and there it was. The lyrics to the infamous song, clear as day, taunting him. The murmurs in the bar turned into full-on cheers as people realized what was about to happen. Ukai swallowed thickly.

Then, his gaze flicked to you.

You stood front and center, holding up your phone, the red recording button flashing at him like a smug little beacon. He rolled his eyes but smirked slightly, shaking his head.

The opening notes of the song filled the bar.

Ukai inhaled deeply, bringing the mic close to his lips. The first line came out hesitant, almost embarrassed, his deep voice barely above a murmur. You were already losing it, your laughter bubbling uncontrollably as you swayed on your feet.

However, to your surprise, people in the crowd began clapping, urging him on, and with the liquid courage coursing through his veins, Ukai started to loosen up. His voice grew stronger. By the time he hit the chorus, something shifted—his hesitance melted away, and his confidence took over.

And that was when it happened.

He turned his gaze to you. His voice took on a teasing lilt, and with a smirk, he pointed the mic in your direction as if he were serenading you directly.

"Baby, baby, baby, ohhh—like baby, baby, baby, nooo!"

Your eyes widened, your laughter dying in your throat as he grinned, fully committing to the act, making all the people around look at you. He leaned forward, shortening the distance between you, swaying his hips slightly to the beat just to make you suffer.

And damn it, it was working.

The entire bar was in chaos. The drunk people had left their seats to crowd near the stage, jumping and singing along. Drinks sloshed, arms waved in the air, and the energy in the room was electric. Even you, against your will (because of the alcohol), found yourself shouting along to the lyrics, your phone still capturing every second of the ridiculous performance.

Then, in a move that sent the crowd into an absolute frenzy, Ukai gestured for Makoto and Yusuke to join him on stage. The two barely hesitated before hopping up, snatching microphones, and adding their voices—horrible, off-key, and absolutely perfect.

Together, the three of them—drunk, ridiculous, and utterly shameless—belted out the rest of song, turning the performance into a full-blown concert.

And you? You'd be lying if you say you weren't enjoying the moment. Seeing Ukai sing Baby by Justin Bieber hadn't been on your bingo card but damn it, was it fun to watch him sing it in front of everybody.Satisfied with your recording, you put your phone back into your purse, stepping away from the roaring crowd, hoping to fade into the background before Ukai could serenade to you in front of everyone again. Your plan, however, crumbled instantly as Ukai's voice rang through the speakers.

"Not so fast, Princess!" he shouted, his tone dripping with mischief. Your stomach dropped.

The room went silent for half a second before the crowd erupted into cheers, all heads turning toward you. Your brows knitted together in confusion as you turned to face him fully, only to be met with that insufferable smirk.

"Please, everyone! Why don't we give a big round of applause for my beautiful baby and get her up here?" He gestured toward you grandly, his voice dripping with false sweetness, knowing exactly what he was doing.

That little bitch.

Your smile stayed firmly in place, keeping up appearances despite the string of curses you were muttering under your breath. You tried to resist, hands raised in polite refusal, but the crowd had already decided your fate. Hands nudged you forward, friends and strangers alike laughing, chanting, urging you toward the stage. Before you could even blink, you found yourself under the blinding spotlight, standing next to the devil himself.

Ukai, still smirking, took your hand dramatically in his, pulling you against him, his voice picking up the final chorus of the song. He twirled you in place, forcing you to dance along to the beat as the crowd erupted with excitement. You kept your smile intact, but oh, if looks could kill.

Fine. If he wanted to play this game, you'd show him exactly who he was messing with.

With a giggle, you wrapped your arms around his neck, swaying into him like the lovesick fool he was pretending you were. You locked eyes, tilting your head in exaggerated adoration as if the very sight of him was the air you breathed. You could practically see the flicker of realization in his eyes, the barely perceptible moment of hesitation. But he quickly recovered, spinning you once more before dipping you backward as the song's final note rang through the bar.

The crowd went wild.

Ukai took the opportunity to lean into your ear, voice low and smug. "Look at all these people cheering you on. Maybe you should do us the honor of singing the next song."

Your eyes narrowed slightly. God, he was insufferable.

"Are you done?" you hummed, tilting your head, feigning innocence. "Because so far, I'm the real winner. I've got the perfect video to show the kids and a brand new ringtone."

Ukai raised an eyebrow before stepping back, with a smirk on his face. "Mm, not quite done yet."

You barely had time to process his words before he turned back to the crowd with renewed energy. "Thank you, thank you, everyone! What an amazing response! Then again, I would expect nothing less for my precious little muffin cake over here!" He gestured toward you, beaming.

Your smile remained in place, but your fingers twitched at your sides.

"Isn't she just the cutest?" he cooed, pinching your cheek with an exaggerated grin.

Oh, he was going to pay for that.

Feigning laughter, you grabbed the microphone from his hands, tilting your head as you tapped his shoulder—a little harder than necessary. "Oh, yes, I'm just so proud of my pookie bear! In fact, why don't you grace us with another song, huh? You have such a beautiful voice, honey bun." You gave his shoulder one final pat, watching the barely hidden twitch of his eye with satisfaction.

Ukai chuckled, though his grip on the microphone tightened ever so slightly. "Such a wonderful idea, my sugar-plum," he cooed, his tone sickeningly sweet. "But before that, I have an announcement to make."

Your stomach flipped as he turned back to face you.

And then he dropped to one knee.

Oh. No.

"Baby girl," he began, voice thick with fake emotion. "These past few weeks with you have been nothing short of magical. From the moment I found you eating out of that dumpster to this very day, I have known—deep in my soul—that you are my one and only."

The bar fell into a hushed silence, all eyes on the two of you, anticipation thick in the air. You could already see people pulling out their phones to record.

Ukai took your hand in his, holding it gently, looking up at you with a dramatic quiver in his lips. "So, I ask you now, my love... will you make me the happiest man in the world and be my forever girl?"

Your jaw clenched. Damn it, he was good.

But if he thought he had won this game, he had another thing coming.

You gasped loudly, clutching your chest as you jumped on the balls of your feet. "Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my GOD!" you squealed, your voice reaching octaves you didn't even know you were capable of.

Ukai flinched slightly but kept up his act.

"Yes! Yes! A thousand times yes!" you shouted, dropping dramatically to your knees beside him. Then, without missing a beat, you grabbed the mic again, voice thick with fake sobs. "I don't even care about your tiny penis or your feet fetish! I will always love you, Pudding!"

The bar erupted into chaos—laughter, cheers, claps, people practically losing their minds at the ridiculous display.

You launched yourself into Ukai's arms, pressing your face into his shoulder to hide your grin, your body shaking with laughter. You could feel his entire body tense as his hands hovered awkwardly over your back.

"Tiny penis and feet fetish? I hate you so much," he hissed into your ear, his voice barely audible over the commotion.

You lifted your head slightly, just enough for your lips to brush against his ear, your voice dropping to a husky whisper. "You started it, pookie bear."

His body jolted ever so slightly, a shiver running down his spine.

His arms were wrapped around you in this fake embrace, a fleeting moment meant for theatrics, and yet—he didn't let go. He should have hated this. This ridiculous, over-the-top charade, the drunken cheers echoing through the bar, your body trembling against his as you silently laughed into his shoulder. But something about the way you felt against him—warm, alive, real—made his grip instinctively tighten. The scent of your shampoo, something vaguely sweet and floral, mixed with the faintest trace of alcohol, filled his senses. Your breath, soft and uneven, ghosted over his ear, sending an unexpected shiver down his spine.

No. No, it was the alcohol. That had to be it.

He was drunk. Very, very drunk. That was why his head felt clouded, why the noise of the bar was dulled, why he suddenly noticed how perfectly you fit against him. That was why he didn't want to let go. It was all just the vodka playing tricks on his brain. Yeah. That was it.

And then, as abruptly as you had jumped into his arms, you were gone. The warmth vanished. The air between you turned cold. He blinked, disoriented, before quickly shaking his head as if to physically expel whatever stupid feeling had settled there.

"Get a grip," he muttered to himself, rolling his shoulders back and running a hand through his hair. His grip tightened around the microphone, forcing himself to focus as he lifted it to his lips.

"Thank you, everyone, thank you!" he announced, forcing his signature cocky grin, and the crowd erupted into cheers. He barely heard them, his eyes already following you as you made your way off the stage. You were laughing, grinning ear to ear, your cheeks flushed with both amusement and the heavy influence of alcohol. He watched you walk away, unable to tear his gaze from you.

"She said yes! I can't believe it!" he continued, milking the joke for all it was worth. "And to think that only a year ago, you were in that psych ward, honey!" The bar exploded with laughter, but you only rolled your eyes as you disappeared into the crowd. Ukai smirked, chuckling to himself as he turned back toward the microphone. "Ah, I'm the happiest man in the world!" he added dramatically, nearly breaking character from his own amusement.

Meanwhile, you moved through the bar, your balance unsteady, the weight of the alcohol finally hitting you full force. Your head spun, your vision blurred slightly at the edges, and you knew you had reached your limit. You needed air.

You barely made it to the exit, pushing the heavy door open and stepping out into the cool night. The moment the fresh air hit your face, a deep sigh of relief left your lips. The nausea lessened, your skin prickled from the temperature shift, and you closed your eyes, leaning against the glass window of the bar as you focused on steadying your breathing.

It felt good.

The muffled bass of the music inside pulsed through the walls, blending with the distant sounds of the city—cars rumbling down the streets, the occasional burst of laughter from passersby. The night air carried the faint scent of rain, though the ground was dry, and the sharp crispness of the breeze tickled your skin, grounding you in the moment.

Despite everything, despite Ukai being Ukai, tonight had been... actually fun. Unexpectedly so. Your lips curled into a small, breathy chuckle, the sound barely audible over the hum of the nightlife. You shook your head, your mind replaying the sight of him on that stage, gripping the microphone with that reluctant smirk, his deaf-toned voice. The way he had locked eyes with you, singing each word with the sole purpose of getting under your skin, reveling in your reaction.

He could be so...cute.

Your breath hitched. Your eyes snapped open, staring ahead at nothing in particular as realization crashed down on you like a bucket of ice water.

No. No, no, no.

He wasn't cute. He was just stupid. That was all. Just a stupid, insufferable, irritating, infuriating, exasperating man. And you could still go on with the adjectives if you wanted.

A shiver that had nothing to do with the cold ran through you, and you rubbed your arms absentmindedly, blaming the alcohol for this ridiculous train of thought. It was messing with your head, making you see things that weren't there, feel things that didn't exist. You shook your head again, more forcefully this time, as if trying to physically rid yourself of the thought.

"Hey there, baby girl."

A slow, slurred voice dragged you from your thoughts. Your stomach turned—not from the alcohol this time, but from the immediate, creeping discomfort that crawled down your spine.

You turned your head, eyes locking onto the man standing a few feet away. Middle-aged. Overweight. His shirt stretched over his gut, slightly stained, and his unkempt, patchy beard did little to hide the greasy sheen of his skin. His hair, short and unevenly cut, barely clung to his scalp. His mouth twisted into a smirk as he licked his lips.

"What's a pretty little thing like you doing out here all alone?" he asked, stepping closer, eyes roaming over you in a way that made your stomach churn.

You stiffened, your fingers instinctively curling into your palms.

"I'm just getting some fresh air, that's all," you replied, voice clipped and cold, hoping he'd take the hint.

He didn't.

"Mmm," he hummed, his grin widening. "Well, can I get some fresh air with you then? Maybe we have a chat, get to know each other better over a drink. What do you say, doll?"

You fought the urge to physically recoil.

"No, thank you," you said as firmly as possible, despite the alcohol clouding your mind. "I have a boyfriend. Or, rather, a fiancé now." Though what you truly wanted to say was 'I'd rather die' but you knew better than to anger drunk and potentially dangerous men in the night.

His grin twitched, his expression shifting to something less amused.

"Oh, come on, baby," he cooed, his voice dipping lower, slimy. "Don't be like that. You haven't even given me a chance."

He took another step toward you, his presence now looming, heavy, suffocating. Instinctively, you stepped back, but your body hit the glass window behind you, trapping you.

Fuck.

Your vision blurred, the world tilting slightly from the alcohol. You were too drunk for this. Too slow, too uncoordinated. You needed to get out, now.

The man moved closer. His hand reached up, fingers brushing against your cheek, the roughness of his calloused skin making your stomach churn.

"How about we get out of here," he murmured, his thumb tracing along your jaw, "and I show you what a real good time is, huh? I'll be better than that guy with the micro penis you've got to deal with, I promise."

You turned your head sharply, moving your mouth away as he leaned in, trying to press his lips against yours.

"No, no..." you muttered, your voice weak, your limbs sluggish. You pushed against his chest, but your strength was useless against his bulk.

"Come on, baby," he whispered, his breath reeking of alcohol and desperation. His fingers gripped your chin, forcing your face back toward him. "I know you want it."

A shudder of revulsion crawled down your spine.

And just as his lips were about to crash against yours, the unbearable weight pressing down on you vanished in an instant. A rush of air filled the space where he had been, and your eyes snapped open, your body tensed and breath caught in your throat. The sharp sound of pain cut through the heavy night air—a choked groan, followed by the shuffle of hurried movement.

You turned your head just in time to see the man, his face contorted in agony, bent forward at an unnatural angle. His arm was twisted cruelly behind his back, his body locked in place by an unrelenting grip.

And there, standing over him with an air of infuriating nonchalance, was Ukai.

A cigarette dangled loosely from his lips, a thin curl of smoke drifting lazily into the night. His expression, however, was anything but casual—his sharp golden eyes burned with irritation, his brows drawn together in a dangerous furrow. His jaw clenched as he applied just a little more pressure to the man's arm, eliciting another pained groan.

"You heard her," Ukai said, his voice low, cold, and dripping with warning. "Leave my fiancé alone."

The man winced, his knees nearly buckling. "H-Hey, okay man, I—I'm sorry!" he stammered, his voice cracking under the strain. But Ukai wasn't done yet.

The blond bent the man's arm further, just enough to make him cry out, his breath ragged. "Don't apologize to me, idiot," Ukai muttered, his voice like gravel and steel. "Apologize to her."

The man's wide, bloodshot eyes darted toward you in pure panic, his body trembling as he desperately nodded. "I-I'm sorry, miss! Please forgive me! It won't happen again!" he practically sobbed, the pain forcing out his words. "Please let me go!"

Ukai finally looked at you for confirmation on what to do with him next, his grip unwavering, his face unreadable.

And that's when you really saw him.

The usual way his blond hair was slicked back, a few rebellious strands escaping and falling over his forehead. The two silver earrings that glinted in the dim light. The way his cigarette rested so effortlessly between his lips, the soft ember glowing each time he took a breath. His eyes, sharp and filled with something unreadable as they remained locked onto yours, waiting.

Your heart pounded. Your skin burned hotter than before. And, for the life of you, you couldn't understand why.

You shook your head, trying to snap yourself out of whatever trance you had fallen into. "J-Just let the asshole go," you muttered, forcing your gaze away. Your voice was weaker than you wanted it to be, and that frustrated you even more.

Ukai gave a simple shrug before releasing the man without a second thought. The guy stumbled forward before quickly finding his balance and bolting down the street.

"You guys are crazy!" he shouted over his shoulder as he disappeared into the night.

Silence settled between you and Ukai, thick and suffocating.

You turned away, pressing a hand to your forehead as your stomach twisted in protest. The alcohol swam violently in your veins, making it hard to focus. You needed to sit down. You needed water. You needed... something, anything, to make this unbearable moment end.

And then, Ukai's voice, softer than before. "You, uh... you okay?"

That was it. That was the tipping point. Something about his tone, something about him acting as if he cared, made every single nerve in your body snap.

"Why do you care?" you spat without thinking.

Ukai blinked, caught off guard. "Why do I—? Are you serious right now?" He scoffed, running a hand through his hair.

You didn't answer. You couldn't. You were too busy trying to keep the nausea at bay.

Ukai exhaled harshly through his nose, clearly frustrated. "God, Y/N, you are insufferable, I swear—"

"I could say the same," you cut in, your words slurred with exhaustion.

He scoffed again, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, who saved you again like two seconds ago?"

"I didn't need your help," you said, knowing damn well that was a lie.

Ukai let out a short, humorless laugh. "Right. Right, of course you didn't. You had it all under control." His voice dripped with sarcasm.

You rolled your eyes. "Okay, what do you want me to say, huh?" You threw your hands up, your voice rising in frustration before dropping into mocking sweetness. "Oh, thank you, Keishin! You're my hero! Come here so I can give you a kiss!"

Ukai's expression twisted into sheer disbelief. "You know what? You are so damn infuriating! I can't believe I thought for even one second that you weren't!"

You took a step closer, fueled by a mix of alcohol and stubbornness. "Good! Because I can't believe I thought for even one second that you were anything else but a pain in my ass!"

And just as the heat of the argument reached its boiling point, the door of the bar swung open with a creak, cutting through the tension like a blade.

Makoto and Yusuke stepped out, pausing at the sight of the two of you standing there, tense and breathless. A crisp night breeze curled through the air, ruffling your hair and cooling the heat that had crept up your skin. The momentary relief, however, did nothing to settle the whirlwind of emotions swirling within you. Your breathing remained uneven, your head pounding from the alcohol, and yet the tension in the air was what truly made it unbearable.

"Oh hey, guys! What are you doing out here? By the way great performance in there, everyone loved it." Yusuke's voice sliced through the silence, lighthearted and oblivious to the palpable friction hanging between you and Ukai. His casual grin faltered slightly when neither of you responded right away, the only exchange being the averted gazes and clenched fists. The energy between you two was suffocating, charged with something unspoken but undeniable.

Ukai was the first to break the silence, his voice deliberately indifferent, but the undertone of irritation was impossible to miss. "Nothing, Y/N was just leaving."

Your eyes snapped up in mild surprise, lips parting as if to object, but no words came out. He wasn't wrong. After this, you did want to leave. But then, why did the statement make your stomach twist uncomfortably?

"Really? That's too bad," Makoto chimed in, disappointment lacing his tone as he took a small step toward you. "Are you sure you wanna leave? We could play another game?" His voice was friendly, hopeful, but right now, the idea of sitting through another round of drinking games and more interactions felt impossible.

You forced a small smile, though it hardly reached your eyes. "Yeah, I'm sorry. I'm gonna turn in for the night."

"I get it." Makoto nodded, his hand landing lightly on your shoulder in a comforting gesture. "Do you need a ride or anything? Where do you live?" Yusuke asked, stepping in with genuine concern.

Panic flickered through you. What could you even say to that? You certainly couldn't admit that you lived all the way in Tokyo and had recklessly gotten drunk with no plan whatsoever for where to stay after.

"I'm fine," you replied, voice steady despite the slight dizziness threatening to pull you under. "I don't live far from here, but thanks." 

You prayed they would buy it. More importantly, you prayed Ukai wouldn't pick up on the obvious lie. Then again, would he care? Probably not. Hopefully there'd be a comfortable bush not far from here waiting for you.

"Right, well, we could accompany you then. It's not safe out here at night." Makoto offered without hesitation.

Shit. Didn't see that one coming.

"No, really, it's fine—" you started, shaking your head.

"Please, we insist." Yusuke interjected, stepping closer with clear determination.

Your pulse quickened. You needed to get out of here fast. The overwhelming exhaustion and the overconsumption of alcohol were catching up with you at an alarming rate. If you didn't leave soon, you were going to pass out right then and there.

"No, really," you insisted, your voice firmer now. "I just want to be alone."

They exchanged glances before reluctantly nodding. "Well, alright then. But hey, I don't know if you're interested, but every year we do a high school reunion with everyone that's still around here at the association club. You should totally come," Makoto said with a bright smile, clearly trying to lighten the mood.

You raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I don't know—"

"Just think about it," he cut in before you could decline outright. "It's during summer vacation, so you've got a few weeks to make your decision, alright?"

You hesitated but eventually gave a small nod. "Right."

Makoto's grin widened. "Well, thank you for tonight! It was really nice seeing you again."

Something about the sincerity in his voice made your chest ache with nostalgia. Despite everything, it had been nice. A part of you missed this—missed them, even though they hadn't been your best friends in high school. And so, you opened your arms, embracing Makoto, feeling the warmth of familiarity as he hugged you back.

"Of course! It was a great surprise seeing you as well." you said, pulling away.

"And if you're ever down for it again, give us a call! We come here pretty often," Yusuke added before wrapping his arms around you in a brief but firm hug.

"Thanks," you whispered, voice barely audible over the sounds of the street.

As you stepped back, your gaze involuntarily flickered toward Ukai, who stood a few feet away, finishing his cigarette with a look of pure irritation. His jaw was tight, eyes unreadable, and his fingers tapped impatiently against his thigh as he sucked on the nearly finished cigarette with an unnecessary amount of force.

Maybe you'd been a bit of an asshole tonight. Even if he was incredibly annoying, he had gotten rid of that guy for you after all. But you didn't have the strength to unpack that thought now. You needed to get out of here before you collapsed right on the pavement.

With a final wave, you turned on your heel and walked away, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other while Makoto and Yusuke returned to Ukai. 

He was angrily flicking the cigarette to the ground, exhaling sharply before muttering something under his breath. The air was thick with tension, a charged current buzzing between them, and both Yusuke and Makoto could see it—the barely contained frustration in Ukai's stance.

"You okay, man?" Yusuke asked cautiously, but Ukai scoffed, his lips curling in a humorless smirk.

"Okay? Why wouldn't I be okay?" His voice was sharp, almost biting, as he exhaled smoke through his nostrils and took another angry drag. His foot tapped against the pavement, his movements restless, agitated, as if his body couldn't contain whatever emotions were surging inside him.

Yusuke and Makoto exchanged a glance, both unsure of how to proceed. Ukai muttered something under his breath again, incomprehensible but undoubtedly annoyed, and when his cigarette burned to its very end, he flicked it to the ground and stomped on it with unnecessary force, twisting his foot against the pavement, agressively crushing the discarded cigarette butt.

"Ugh, I can't believe it. I can't believe her! I swear to god, that woman is going to drive me crazy!" he snapped, voice dripping with frustration. His hands balled into fists at his sides, and he shook his head, as though the very thought of you was enough to drive him mad. 

"Whoa, relax, man. What happened back there?" Yusuke asked, his tone placating as he placed a hand on Ukai's shoulder.

Ukai's gaze flickered to him, his eyes dark with something unreadable. "The usual insufferable and ungrateful Y/n, that's what," His arms crossed over his chest, his body language closed off, defensive.

Makoto hummed thoughtfully. "Come on, aren't you exaggerating a bit? I mean, we all had a lot of fun tonight, you gotta admit." His voice was softer, more coaxing, as if trying to ease the tension radiating off Ukai in waves.

Ukai huffed, dismissing the words with a short shake of his head. "Whatever. It doesn't matter." He turned sharply on his heel. "Let's go get more drinks."

But then, as his gaze flickered to the spot where you had been standing just minutes ago, he froze. His brows furrowed. Something felt... off.

"Wait," he said, his voice suddenly different—sharp, focused. "Where is she?"

Yusuke raised an eyebrow. "She left? You said it yourself, remember?" he pointed out.

"Yeah," Makoto added, "she said she was tired and turning in for the night. We offered to take her home, but she declined since she lives not too far from here."

Ukai's body stiffened. His eyes snapped to Makoto in an instant. "What do you mean, Makoto?" he started, his voice tight, "She still lives in Tokyo."

Silence. Then both Makoto and Yusuke's eyes widened in realization.

"But then... where is she going?" Yusuke asked, his voice laced with growing concern.

Ukai didn't wait for an answer. He didn't even pause to process the moment, didn't stick around to rationalize or second-guess himself. His body moved on instinct, as if propelled by something beyond his control. One second, he was standing there, breath uneven, frustration still simmering beneath his skin. The next, he was sprinting into the night, the world around him a blur of darkened streets and dim streetlights while his heart pounded violently in his chest.

What the hell were you thinking? Where the hell were you going?

You were drunk—probably far more than he was. And yet, you had walked off into the night alone, stubborn as ever, pride overshadowing logic. His mind raced through thousands of possibilities, each one worse than the last. He cursed under his breath, pushing his legs faster as he ran. Was he overreacting? Maybe. But he couldn't ignore the gnawing feeling in his gut.

As he passed a small park, something flickered in the corner of his eye. A shadow. A shape. He skidded to a halt, whipping his head to the side, his breath caught in his throat. The dim glow of a streetlamp barely illuminated the area, making it difficult to see, but as he stepped closer, his heart nearly stopped.

It was you.

Lying on the cold ground, unmoving.

"Shit."

Ukai rushed forward, dropping to his knees beside you, panic clawing at his chest. Without hesitation, he slipped an arm under your upper body, pulling you up against him. His other hand reached for your face, gently slapping your cheek, his voice urgent.

"Wake up!" His voice cracked, his grip tightening. "Wake up, Y/N, you idiot!" 

A small murmur slipped past your lips—faint, incomprehensible—but it was enough. Relief crashed into him like a tidal wave, leaving him breathless. 

Good. You were just sleeping.

He exhaled sharply, his hand lingering against your cheek. "God, you're so fucking annoying, you know that?" he muttered, though there was no real bite to his words. His thumb brushed over your temple, his fingers pushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His arm around you tightened, holding you just a little closer.

"What were you thinking?" he demanded, though he knew you wouldn't answer. His voice, usually so firm, so confident, wavered just slightly. He wanted to shake you awake just to tell you how reckless you were, how goddamn infuriating you could be. Instead, he sighed, his frustration warping into something else, something unfamiliar.

"God, I hate you so much," he mumbled, but the words lacked any venom. His fingers traced the curve of your cheek, his thumb lingering there a moment longer than necessary before he pressed your unconscious body just a little closer to his. "I hate you so much..."

Then, the sound of hurried footsteps broke the quiet.

Makoto and Yusuke burst onto the scene, both breathless, their eyes widening in unison as they spotted you in his arms.

"Oh, god—" Makoto was already kneeling beside you. "Is she okay?!" He asked, reaching out, but before he could touch you, Ukai instinctively leaned back, tightening his grip.

"She's fine," he snapped. "This idiot just drank too much alcohol."

"Why didn't she say anything? Why would she lie about where she lives?" Yusuke asked, frowning in concern.

Ukai scoffed, adjusting you in his hold as he stood up in one fluid motion, cradling you effortlessly. "Knowing her? Her damn pride got in the way. Like always."

Makoto frowned. "What are you going to do?"

"What do you think?" Ukai replied, exasperated. "We can't just leave her here." He sighed, glancing down at your unconscious form. "Ugh, I'll just bring her to my place. Hopefully, she'll be less annoying when she wakes up. Though, I have very little doubt about it—she's not a morning person."

Makoto hesitated. "If it's too much trouble, I can take her to my place—"

"No!" 

Ukai's voice came out sharper than he intended, cutting through the night air like a knife as he pressed your body closer to his, and both Makoto and Yusuke froze, exchanging a look.

Ukai cleared his throat, shifting his grip on you. "I—I mean, my place is close anyway. It's right around the corner," he tried again, voice forcibly nonchalant. "And besides, out of the three of us, even if we hate each other's guts, she knows me the best. Makes sense, right?"

Before they could respond, he was already walking away, cradling you against his chest like it was the most natural thing in the world. "Anyway," he called over his shoulder, "I'll see you both at our next match. Goodnight."

Makoto and Yusuke stood in stunned silence, watching him disappear into the night with you in his arms.

After a moment, Yusuke exhaled. "Well... that was something."

Makoto huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "Like I said," he started, smirking slightly. "still got it bad for her."

***

 

Chapter 16: Too Close For Comfort

Chapter Text

Your eyes fluttered open as the first rays of sunlight streamed through the sheer curtains, the golden glow spilling across your face like molten warmth. Immediately, a sharp, throbbing pain crashed through your skull, sending a groggy groan past your lips. A hangover. And a brutal one at that. You winced, squeezing your eyes shut again as if that would somehow will away the relentless pounding in your head. Slowly, you forced yourself to sit up, your limbs heavy and uncooperative, one shaky hand coming up to clutch your forehead.

Difficultly blinking, you took in your surroundings, your vision slowly adjusting to the room lit with the blinding natural light. The walls, a neutral off-white, were sparsely decorated save for the volleyball posters plastered across them, showcasing players in mid-air spikes and teams frozen in moments of victorious triumph. A simple, dark-colored bed lay beneath you, its sheets slightly disheveled, the pillow still dented where your head had been. Against the far wall, a wooden desk was cluttered with papers, a monitor sitting beside a stack of notebooks and what looked like an old training schedule. Above the desk, shelves lined with books, binders, and a few volleyball trophies stood neatly in place.

Then, as if someone had doused you with ice-cold water, reality came crashing down. Your breath hitched as recognition slammed into you with startling force.

This room. You knew this room.

Panic surged through your chest as your eyes widened in horror. You would recognize this place anywhere, even in the dark, even in your current, hungover haze. You had spent countless hours here before, once upon a time.

"Shit."

The curse fell from your lips in a whisper, but it did nothing to quell the rising panic in your chest. Instinct took over. You shot up, desperate to leave, but the sheets tangled around your legs like restraints, sending you toppling forward with an undignified yelp. You hit the floor with a dull thud.

"Shit, shit, shit," you muttered, voice rising with each panicked breath as you thrashed against the offending fabric. Your hands clawed at the sheets, fingers scrambling to untangle yourself until finally—finally—you broke free. You pushed yourself to your feet, your heart hammering wildly as your gaze darted around the room, searching for any sign of him.

He wasn't here.

A wave of relief crashed over you, your shoulders sagging slightly. You exhaled shakily, pressing a hand against your chest to steady your breathing.

What the hell were you doing here?

You looked down at yourself and let out another breath, this time in relief. Your clothes were still the same from last night—no missing articles, no signs of anything out of place.

"Thank god," you mumbled, tilting your head back toward the ceiling, your hands clasped together as if in silent prayer.

But still—why were you here? The last thing you remembered was leaving the bar. Alone, you were certain of that. And then... nothing. A complete blackout. Which, honestly, wasn't all that surprising, given how much you'd had to drink. But that still didn't explain how you had ended up in Ukai's room of all places. One thing was certain, though: you needed to get out of here. Now.

Frantically, you patted yourself down, searching for your flip phone. Not in your pockets. Not in your jacket. Where the hell—

Your eyes snapped back to the bed, and there it was. Lying on the sheets, hidden in the crevaces of the blanket.

You let out a breath of relief, stepping toward it, but something else caught your attention. Just above the bed, pinned to the wall with small wooden clips, was a line of photos. Your fingers hesitated over your phone as your gaze traced the images, each one a snapshot of a different time in his life. Pictures of him in high school, his team posing in the gym, candid moments with friends, his grandfather standing proudly beside him.

And then... one picture made you freeze.

Your fingers ghosted over the photograph, your breath catching slightly in your throat. It was an old picture—one that you hadn't seen in years. One that you had nearly forgotten about.

In the photo, the four of you sat together in the restaurant you used to frequent all the time back then. You, Keishin, and both of your grandfathers.

You were seated beside Keishin, your arm slung casually around his shoulders as you both grinned at the camera. Your other hand was raised in a peace sign, but if you looked closer, you could see the mischievous gleam in your eyes, the subtle angle of your arm revealing the bunny ears you were playfully making behind his head. Keishin, him, was smiling proudly at the camera while his arm around your shoulder was doing the exact same as you were.

Across from you, Yasufumi Ukai and Ikkei Ukai sat side by side, their smiles wide and warm, laughter forever frozen in the moment. The restaurant's soft lighting bathed you all in a golden glow, a perfect snapshot of simpler times.

You exhaled softly, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of your lips. You looked so young. Only sixteen. And so, so happy. But why wouldn't you have been? You remembered that night vividly—it had been right after you had won a major tournament with your team. The celebration had been filled with laughter, teasing, and clinking glasses of soda as you all reveled in the victory.

But as your fingers lingered over the edges of the photograph, that soft smile faded. The warmth of the memory was tainted by what came after. That dinner had been the last time the four of you had been together like that. The last moment of peace before everything changed. Before the fallout with Keishin.

You swallowed, shaking your head as if you could physically dispel the memory. It didn't matter. That was in the past. Those times were gone.

Right now, you had a far more pressing problem: getting the hell out of here before Ukai came back.

You gathered all your remaining stuff in a frantic hurry, barely taking the time to make sure you weren't leaving anything behind. Your fingers trembled slightly as you fumbled with your phone, stuffing it into your pocket before turning toward the door. The room—the memories it held—was suffocating, and you needed to escape, needed to put as much distance as possible between yourself and this portal into the past.

With a deep breath, you reached for the handle and swung the door open in one swift motion, eager to step out and never look back. But what you didn't know—what you couldn't have predicted—was that Ukai had been standing on the other side, his hand gripping the handle at the exact same moment. The unexpected force of you yanking the door open sent him stumbling forward, caught off guard. His balance wavered, and before either of you could react, gravity took over.

Everything happened in a blur.

His body lurched forward, the momentum pulling him inside the room. You barely had time to register what was happening before his weight crashed into you, knocking the air from your lungs. A startled gasp escaped your lips as your back hit the floor, the world tilting wildly around you. The impact sent a dull thud through your body, but the real shock came when you realized what had just happened.

Ukai was on top of you.

Time seemed to stop, the air thick and heavy as the reality of your predicament set in. His arms were braced on either side of you, barely holding himself up, his chest hovering just inches above yours. His face—too close, impossibly close—was frozen in shock, his golden eyes wide as they bore into yours.

You couldn't move.

Your breath hitched as you stared at him, your pulse pounding violently in your ears. His scent—a mix of cigarette smoke, faint cologne, and something unmistakably him—was dizzying, intoxicating. His damp hair, still heavy with water from his shower, dripped onto your skin, the cold droplets sending shivers down your spine. Strands of it clung to his forehead, framing his sharp features in a way you'd never seen before. He looked different like this—more raw, more vulnerable. More devastatingly attractive.

And then it hit you.

The shower.

Ukai had just gotten out of the shower.

Your eyes widened in horror as the pieces clicked into place, your gaze instinctively trailing downward. That was when you saw it—when you truly saw it. His skin was still glistening with residual moisture, droplets of water trickling down the toned lines of his chest. But more importantly—most importantly—he wasn't wearing a shirt, only a thin towel around his waist. And beneath him, where his body pressed against yours, you felt it. Something hard. Something unmistakable.

Oh my god.

A strangled noise escaped your throat as your face erupted into flames, and at the same exact moment, Ukai seemed to come to the same realization. His eyes darted downward, following your line of sight, before snapping back up to meet yours in sheer, unfiltered panic.

You both went rigid.

For a fraction of a second, neither of you moved. Then, as if suddenly struck by lightning, you both scrambled to push the other away in a flurry of frantic limbs and mumbled expletives.

"Shit—"

"Oh my god—"

"Move!"

"I'm trying—!"

Somehow—miraculously—you managed to separate, rolling in opposite directions before springing to your feet. Your backs immediately turned to one another, both of you desperate to regain some semblance of composure. Your heart was hammering against your ribs, your face burning so intensely you were convinced it would never return to its normal color. You crossed your arms tightly over your chest, trying to will away the sensation of his weight, his warmth—his everything that had just been pressed against you.

Ukai, standing equally stiff with his back to you, scoffed loudly, running a hand through his damp hair. "What the hell did you do that for?!"

"Me?!" You spun around, your face still red, but indignation burned hotter than your embarrassment now. "You were the one standing behind the damn door like a creep!"

Ukai's eye twitched as he turned to face you, his expression an awkward mix of irritation and flustered panic. "I was opening the door to get into my room! How was I supposed to know you'd fling it open like a lunatic?!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, was I supposed to expect a half-naked moron to be lurking on the other side?!" You shot back, your hands flailing in exasperation.

He scoffed, crossing his arms over his still-bare chest. "Oh, please, like you weren't just checking me out—"

"Checking you out?!" Your voice pitched up in sheer disbelief. "Please don't flatter yourself Keishin. Even a wall has more sex appeal than you!"

Ukai huffed, running a frustrated hand through his damp hair, sending stray droplets flying. "Yeah, well, the feeling's mutual, princess. Last thing I need is you thinking I'd actually want to be in that position."

Your mouth fell open, a strangled sound leaving your throat. "Oh, like you were suffering! I was the one pinned to the floor and your—your—" You gestured wildly at him, unable to even say it without your face heating up all over again.

He smirked slightly, though his own face was still tinged pink. "Oh, so you admit it, huh?"

Your eyes nearly bulged out of your skull. "Admit what?!"

Ukai shrugged nonchalantly, tilting his head. "That you were in fact checking me out."

"Well, it was pretty hard to miss it with you lying on top of me!" You groaned, throwing your hands up.

"I'm gonna take that as a compliment." He responded, smirking as he crossed his arms over his chest, his biceps flexing slightly, pressing his pectorals together as if to emphasize his physique.

"You're a pervert." You spat out, face burning.

"Says the one talking about my di—"

Before he could even finish the sentence, you grabbed the nearest object—a pillow from his bed—and launched it at his head. Ukai barely ducked in time, the pillow hitting the door with a soft thump.

"Whoa, easy there, princess. At least aim right if you're gonna throw something at me." He smirked but it only angered you more.

"Just shut up! Shut up. Stop talking. Zip it." You gestured your hands dramatically in front of his face, making him slightly retreat. "I don't wanna hear you talk. I don't even want to hear you breathe!" You rolled your eyes, exasperated  "God, you are so insufferable," You bit your knuckles in frustration, trying to calm yourself down.

"Look who's talkin—"

Another pillow flew through the air, barely missing him again.

"What the hell did I just say?!" You groaned loudly, running a hand down your face. "I don't wanna hear another word about this. This never happened. We never speak of this again. Ya hear me??" You almost shouted, jabbing your index finger at his face.

He merely rolled his eyes and swatted your hand away. "Relax, princess. I don't want people to know you were in my room either. Wouldn't exactly do wonders for my reputation."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. "Is that so, Keishin? What the hell am I doing here then? Why did you kidnap me?"

"Kidnap you? Please,"He gave an incredulous laugh. "If I had wanted to kidnap someone, I'd have picked someone who's not already a constant pain in my ass!"

"Oh sure, then go on, explain how I got here. In your bed, nonetheless." You crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes.

"By being a complete idiot like usual, that's how!" He shouted, throwing his hands up. "I was walking home last night, and who do I find lying passed out in the bushes of a park?" He paused dramatically. "That's right! Your dumb ass!"

Your mouth fell open, offended, but unfortunately, he wasn't wrong. You'd gotten very drunk last night, knowing damn well you didn't have anywhere to go after. However, you weren't going to give him that satisfaction.

"Do you have any idea what could've happened to you if I hadn't found you? Did it even cross your mind?" He shouted and your eyes slightly widened.

Had you thought about the consequences? No, not really. You'd been too busy getting wasted to forget about your mother but you couldn't tell him that. It would prove him right. So, you stayed silent, only glaring at him.

He sighed at your silence. "What were you even doing in Miyagi in the first place? We're in the middle of the week. Shouldn't you be in Tokyo?"

"It's none of your business," You spat out and he rolled his eyes.

"Of course," He threw his arms into the air in frustration. "You know, instead of being impossibly annoying like usual, you should be thanking me for saving you."

You glared at him, arms mirroring his posture. "I never asked you to 'save me' in the first place! I was doing fine in my bushes."

His eye twitched, a vein practically popping in his forehead. "You—I—" He seemed almost speechless for a second, his frustration bubbling over. "God, I cannot believe you right now! You said the exact same thing last night when I got rid of that guy. Would it kill you to say a simple thank you for once in your life?!" He asked, stepping closer.

"You know? I think it might." You responded, a smug grin pulling at your lips.

"You are impossible! On second thought, maybe I should've left you in the bushes, let you get kidnapped for real! Maybe then, I'd finally be rid of you!"

You stepped forward, eyes blazing. "Oh yeah? Why didn't you then?!"

He faltered slightly, his composure slipping for the first time. "I-I..."

Before Ukai could say another word, a voice from beyond the door sliced through the tension like a blade.

"What is all this commotion?"

The sudden intrusion made both of you freeze mid-breath. Your heads snapped toward the door just as a slender hand appeared on the frame, fingers gripping lightly before the rest of the woman stepped into view. And then—her eyes widened.

It took only a second for her to take in the scene before her. Her son, half-dressed, wearing nothing but a towel slung dangerously low around his waist, his damp hair still clinging to his forehead, beads of water from his post-shower lingering on his skin. And then there was you, standing across from him, flushed, disheveled, and visibly rattled. The air between you was thick with something she couldn't quite put her finger on, but to an outsider, the sight was... well, suggestive at best.

"Oh... oh my," she breathed, jumping slightly as realization dawned upon her face.

"Mom?!" Ukai's voice cracked slightly, his eyes going impossibly wide.

Your own face instantly burst into flames, mortification clawing at your throat as you instinctively turned your back to the woman, gripping your temples. This was not happening. This could not be happening.

You knew her—of course you did. Mio Sakanoshita had been a mother figure to you once, back when things were different, back before everything had fallen apart with Keishin. You hadn't seen her in years, and now, of all the possible ways to reunite, she had to walk in on this mess. Just your luck.

Your mind was already racing. Had she recognised you? What was she going to say? Would she be angry? Would she be disappointed? And why, of all times, did she have to arrive at this exact moment? You brought a hand to your face in despair, too absorbed in your thoughts to register what was happening behind you.

"Oh my god! I didn't know you'd bring a girl home! Finally!" She clasped her hands together, practically vibrating in place.

Ukai looked like he wanted to hurl himself out the nearest window. "What—no! What are you even doing here?! You should be at the shop!"

But his mother was already too invested in the moment to care about her son's protests. "I just came up to grab some change for a customer! I had no idea I'd walk in on such a revelation!"

She attempted to step further into the room, but Ukai was quick to block her path, holding out an arm as if physically restraining her was the only thing stopping her from charging in.

"Mom, not now! Just—go!"

"Oh, come on! I just want to meet her properly! Who is she? I'm not wearing my glasses. Is she someone I know?" She asked trying to make your figure out through the blur of her vision. "Hello!!" She called out but Ukai blocked her path.

"There's nothing to meet!"

"Oh, Keishin, don't be shy!" Her eyes twinkled with something mischievous. "You never bring anyone home! I should've known you'd been acting weird lately! So secretive! So moody! But now it all makes sense!" She placed a hand over her chest dramatically. "My baby boy has finally found himself a girlfriend!"

"GIRLFRIEND?!" Ukai's voice cracked in horror.

"Yes! Girlfriend! Honestly, I was beginning to lose hope, thinking you'd never get married, but oh gosh, I'm so glad I was wrong!"

For the first time since this ordeal began, Ukai seemed truly speechless, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. His shock made him loosen his stance for just a second—just enough for his mother to slip past him.

"Mom! She's not my girlfriend!" he nearly shouted, his voice still carrying that note of disbelief.

"Oh, come on! You don't have to be shy, honey! Let me meet her! I'm so happy that you finally moved on, you know?  I know how heartbroken you were back then because of—"

"MOM!" Ukai's eyes practically bugged out of his skull as he made one last desperate attempt to shove her out of the room before she could finish that sentence.

But before he could stop her, she turned fully and locked eyes with you for the first time. Her mouth fell open mid-sentence. The name she had been about to say slipped from her lips in a whisper.

"—Y/n..."

The room went so silent you could hear the distant sound of traffic outside.

Sakanoshita's expression froze in a mix of shock and disbelief, her mouth slightly parted, her hands still mid-gesture.

Ukai, on the other hand, groaned into his hands, dragging them down his face as if physically trying to erase himself from existence. "Oh my god," he mumbled into his palms.

You swallowed thickly, realizing that the moment of reckoning had arrived. You had barely even been listening, too caught up in your own panic, but now, faced with her staring at you as if she had just seen a ghost, there was no avoiding it.

Awkwardly, you lifted your hand in the weakest excuse of a wave, your fingers stiff. "H-Hi... long time no see, Miss Sakanoshita. Haha..." Your laugh was nervous, unconvincing, and your stomach twisted painfully.

Not your best performance, okay. But given the state of your rapidly pounding heart and burning face, it was the best you could do.

Sakanoshita did not move for a few long seconds. Her eyes darted between you and Ukai, then back to you.

And then—

"Oh my god, Y/N!"

Before you could even react, she had crossed the room at an alarming speed and thrown herself at you, wrapping you in a bone-crushing embrace that nearly knocked the wind out of your lungs.

"I can't believe it! It's really you! I'm not dreaming, am I?!" she exclaimed before abruptly pulling back, her hands gripping your shoulders as she turned to Ukai. "Keishin, pinch me!"

Ukai let out a long, suffering sigh. "No, Mom. You're not dreaming," Then, as if remembering his own predicament, he shot you an exasperated glare, muttering under his breath. "Although I wish you were."

You narrowed your eyes at him, already feeling another argument bubbling to the surface.

"Oh, don't listen to him, my darling! He's just teasing you because of how much he likes you!" Sakanoshita said while still holding you in her arms and Keishin's jaw dropped to the floor.

"Mom! How many times do I have to tell you that—" He started but his mother wasn't listening at all.

Sakanoshita pulled back, clutching your arms as if to make sure you were solid, real. Tears shimmered in her eyes. "God, I never thought I'd see you again! Look at you! You're all grown up! And you're here! And—" her eyes flicked toward Ukai, and a teasing smile spread across her face, "—and with Keishin, no less."

Ukai groaned audibly. "Oh, for the love of—Mom, she's not my girlfriend!"

She raised a skeptical brow. "Then what exactly is she doing in your bedroom while you're half-naked in a towel, hmm?"

Your entire body stiffened again, your soul practically trying to escape your own skin. "It's not what it looks like!" You yelped, waving your hands. "I just—uh—wrong place, wrong time? We just... he helped me last night, that's all." You said and Ukai raised an eyebrow.

Sakanoshita hummed knowingly, clearly not convinced. "Mhm. Sure, sweetheart but I trust my gut and my gut says, you're both lying."

Ukai pinched the bridge of his nose. "Can we just pretend you never saw this and move on with our lives? Y/n was, in fact, just leaving when you barged in and she's never coming back again—"

"Absolutely not! This is the best thing that's happened in years! God, I still can't believe that you two made up! I had lost hope a long time ago but it seems that I was wrong. Oh, I need to sit down. Where's my phone? I need to tell the neighbors—"

"Mom, I swear to god—"

You watched in horror as Ukai practically wrestled his mother back toward the door while she continued gushing about how happy she was, how she always knew you two had a connection, how she had to start planning the wedding invitations, and so on.

However, Ukai let out an exasperated groan, mustering the last of his patience as he finally shoved her out the door. But his mother quickly turned, continuing to talk. "But wait, did you at least use protection last night? Because I want grandkids, but you should get married first—"

With one swift motion, he slammed the door shut in her face before she could ramble on any longer, the final syllables of her sentence mercifully cut off. For a few moments, all that could be heard was the frantic beating of his heart as he leaned against the door, running a hand down his face in sheer mortification. A heavy sigh of relief escaped him, his body finally relaxing now that the ordeal was over.

Or so he thought.

Because the second he started calming down, you cleared your throat behind him, drawing his attention like nails on a chalkboard.

"Oh, great," He sighed. "You're still here." His voice dripped with sarcasm as he turned to face you.

You raised an eyebrow at his tone, crossing your arms. "Yeah, and you're still half-naked. I wonder who's suffering more here."

Ukai scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Me. Because I have to endure your presence."

"Says the one who brought me here," you mumbled, though not quietly enough.

Before he could snap back at you, there was another knock on the door, and both of you instantly tensed. Ukai shut his eyes tightly, inhaling sharply through his nose as if that would somehow prepare him for whatever fresh hell his mother was about to unleash.

"I know you're probably kissing each other by now," Sakanoshita called through the door, her voice filled with unfiltered excitement, "and I promise, I'll leave you two alone, but I just want to say that I'm SO happy that you're together! It's a dream come true for me. And I'm sure it's the same for Keishin as well, Y/N."

Ukai's face drained of color before immediately flushing bright red. He could practically feel the heat radiating off his own skin, and he didn't even need to turn around to know that you were relishing every second of this.

Sure enough, when he glanced at you, he saw your mischievous smirk before you even said a word.

"Is that so?" you asked, your voice filled with amusement as you stepped closer to the door.

"Yes! Do you know how much he used to talk about you—"

"MOM!" Ukai shouted, his voice cracking slightly in sheer horror.

"Oops! Sorry, sorry! I'll leave you lovebirds alone," she giggled. "You'll tell me everything later!"

Ukai exhaled a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding as he pressed his ear against the doorframe to make sure she wasn't staying. And to his relief, he could hear his mother's retreating footsteps, but the damage was already done. The embarrassment had successfully rooted itself into every fiber of his being.

The room fell into a thick silence for a moment—at least until he realized you were still standing there, arms crossed, lips pursed in amusement.

Ukai's eyes twitched. "Don't,"

"So..." you hummed, tapping a finger against your chin in exaggerated thought. "Apparently, you used to talk about me a lot."

Ukai's body stiffened, and he immediately snapped his head toward you, his composure barely hanging on. "Shut up."

You feigned innocence. "Oh, come on, I'm just curious. What exactly were you saying about me?"

"Oh you know, the usual." He clenched his jaw before scoffing, regaining his usual smugness. "My mom is old-fashioned, you know that. She still believes in that whole 'if a boy is mean to a girl, it means he likes her' nonsense."  He crossed his arms, muscles flexing slightly. "In my case, I just hate you."

You let out a dramatic sigh, shaking your head. "Sure, sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night."

His eyes narrowed. "What?"

"Nothing, nothing," You took a step closer, your smirk turning teasing. "It's just... maybe your mom is right. Maybe you're only mean to me because deep down, you like me."

Ukai let out a sharp, humorless laugh, the sound brittle and biting. "Ha! Me, like you? Good joke, princess." His smirk curled cruelly, his eyes gleaming with something sharp. "But I prefer women who don't betray their childhood best friends for some man." He spat out before adding with a sneer, "An ugly and stupid one at that."

The amusement that had once danced in your eyes disappeared in an instant, snuffed out by the sheer weight of his words. Your entire body went rigid, your jaw clenching so tightly it ached. "Oh yeah? Well, I prefer men who don't betray their best friend just because they couldn't stand them actually being better than them!"

His smirk faltered. Just for a second. Just long enough for something unguarded to flicker in his gaze—a moment of impact, of something breaking beneath the surface—before it was gone, masked by indifference. "Oh right, how could I forget? I'm just 'an asshole and pathetic boy who couldn't be happy for his friend.'"

He mocked your words, spitting them out like venom, fingers curling into exaggerated air quotes. Your nails dug into your arms at the memory.

You mirrored his gesture, your voice laced with biting sarcasm. "And I'm just 'an arrogant princess whose sense of loyalty is beyond repair.'"

Silence. Heavy, suffocating silence. The kind that dripped with unfinished business, unspoken wounds, and scars that had never quite healed. The room felt too small, too charged with something that neither of you had the words to name. Anger, resentment, pain—everything that had built up over the years crashed down between you, pressing against your ribs, squeezing your lungs.

Those words, spoken so long ago, in the heat of that final, catastrophic fight. You'd never forgotten them or anything that was said really. And judging by Ukai's actions, apparently him either.

Neither of you had ever really let go, had you?

Ukai's lips parted, as if he wanted to say something else—one final cutting remark, one last blow—but he hesitated. Something in his face shifted, his sharp edges dulling, his shoulders loosening just the tiniest bit. And then, instead of lashing back, he exhaled sharply, looking away.

"Look," he muttered, his voice quieter now, frayed at the edges. "I don't want to get into it again." His gaze switched to the ground. "I don't... I don't have the energy right now."

Your heart gave an unexpected jolt, not at his words, but at the way he said them. Tired. Resigned. There was no victory in his tone, no satisfaction in ending the argument—only exhaustion. He wasn't retreating to prove a point. He was retreating because he genuinely didn't want to fight anymore.

You blinked, thrown off balance. That was... new.

The fire in your veins dulled, replaced by something softer. "You're right," you finally admitted, the fight slipping from your posture. "It's useless anyway." You said bitterly. Why should you argue again when he hadn't believed you back then?

A different silence settled between you now. A quieter, sadder one. The echoes of old wounds whispered between you, neither of you willing to stir them further. You both knew exactly where this road led. You'd traveled it before. And neither of you wanted to go back there again.

After a long moment, you turned toward the door walking past him to go to it. He didn't move, didn't speak. Just stood there, arms still loosely crossed, eyes unreadable.

However, as you reached it, you suddenly stopped, your hand hovering over the doorknob.

You hesitated.

Pride warred with something else inside you—something softer, something you didn't want to name. You had every reason to walk out without another word. To let the bitterness settle and leave it at that.

But... he had helped you last night. Whether you liked it or not. And even if he was an asshole, well, maybe you'd been acting like one too.

Your throat felt tight as you finally spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you,"

Ukai's head snapped up, his eyes widening slightly as he turned to look at you, as if he hadn't expected those words to come out of your mouth.

You swallowed, keeping your back to him. "For yesterday, I mean," And with that, you turned the doorknob, stepped out, and closed the door behind you.

Ukai remained where he was, staring after you, completely and utterly speechless.

***

 

Chapter 17: Can't Say No To Mom

Chapter Text

You stepped into the corridor and walked down towards the living room without a second thought. The apartment was a space so deeply ingrained in your memory that every detail surfaced effortlessly, as if you had been there yesterday. The moment you crossed the threshold, a wave of nostalgia crashed over you, bringing with it a flood of emotions you hadn't expected. Your fingers traced the edge of the half-separation wall that stood in place of what was once a brown cabinet, dividing the cozy dining area from the kitchen. The scent of home-cooked meals still lingered in the air, or perhaps it was just a trick of your mind, a memory so vivid it tricked your senses.

The warm glow of the overhead lights illuminated the wooden textures of the furniture, highlighting every groove and imperfection you once found familiar. The dining table, dark wood polished with years of use, was surrounded by four chairs with pale green cushions, just as they had always been. You could still picture the countless meals shared here, Ukai's family chatting over steaming plates, his mother's laughter carrying through the space. You had been a part of it once—welcomed, included, cherished.

To your right, the living area was just as you remembered. The orange and brown loveseat, still slightly worn at the edges from years of use, faced the small wooden coffee table, where game controllers once rested in a tangled mess, ready for the next match. The green couch beyond it, now adorned with neatly stacked plastic storage boxes, had been the throne for many nights of gaming. The television, a modest yet reliable one, sat on its stand by the window, just as it always had. The curtains swayed slightly, the faintest breeze slipping through the gap where they didn't quite meet. Everything was exactly the same, and yet, it felt entirely different.

A small, involuntary smile tugged at your lips. You hadn't thought about these memories in so long—the late-night gaming marathons with Ukai, the way he'd groan in defeat whenever you bested him, the lazy afternoons spent watching TV until one of you inevitably dozed off. It had been a different time, a different version of yourself. You shook your head, as if to clear the emotions weighing heavily on your chest.

With a final glance around the space that had once felt like a second home, you turned toward the sliding door leading to the hall entrance. Your steps were slow, reluctant, but you knew you couldn't stay here any longer. Pressing your hand against the cool surface of the main door, you hesitated for just a moment before pulling it open and stepping out, closing it softly behind you. You found yourself at the top of of staircase, where the Sakanoshita convenience store lied below. You went down the stairs, each step slow and steady

The familiar narrow corridor stretched ahead of you, leading towards the blue curtains that separated the backroom from the store's main area. The faint hum of a familiar voice reached your ears before you pushed them aside, stepping through just in time to see Ukai's mother tending to a young customer.

He caught your attention. It was a young boy, no older than middle school age judging by his face, but already super tall, like freakishly tall. He stood at the register, his tired expression betraying his emotions. His small hands clutched a plastic bag filled with sandwiches—too many for just one person. His gaze remained lowered as he wordlessly handed over his money, not sparing a single glance in your direction. You watched, curiosity piqued as he collected his purchase and turned to leave. The door chimed softly as it shut behind him, and yet, your eyes followed his small frame as he walked away, a sense of inexplicable concern settling in your chest.

"Thank you! Come back again!" Mio Sakanoshita's voice rang out cheerfully as she waved after the boy. She hummed a tune as she turned back around—only to nearly jump out of her skin when she found you standing right behind her.

"Oh dear! You scared me, sweetie." A hand clutched at her chest as she let out a breathy chuckle. "It's dangerous to play with an old woman's heart, you know?"

A quiet laugh escaped you, and you offered an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, Miss Sakanoshita. I didn't mean to startle you."

She scoffed playfully before reaching up to pinch your cheek, a gesture so familiar it nearly made your eyes sting with the threat of unshed tears. "Oh, you're so cute, my dear. And stop calling me Sakanoshita! You've always called me Mio."

Your lips parted in realization before you nodded. "R-Right. Sorry, Mio."

Her smile was warm, fond, and before you could react, she pulled you into an embrace so tight you felt the air escape your lungs. "Ohh, my sweet little thing! You can't imagine how happy I am to see you again after all this time!"

You let out a strangled breath. "I-I c-can't b-breathe..."

With a gasp, she immediately released you, laughing heartily as you sucked in a much-needed gulp of air. "Oh, I'm sorry, honey. I just got so excited!"

The twinkle in her eye was unmistakable, and you braced yourself for what was coming next.

"Especially since you're with my Keishin! Oh, I always knew that you two would get together one day, I—"

"Mio," you interrupted before she could get ahead of herself. "We're really not together."

Her brows furrowed in confusion. "You're not?"

You shook your head firmly. "Like I said, he just helped me because I drank a little too much last night."

Mio regarded you for a moment before shrugging, an amused smile playing at her lips. "Oh well, it's only a matter of time anyway." She said as she waslked past you to go the aisles.

"What?! No, it's not." Your eyes widened as you followed her to the aisles, watching as she casually rearranged items on the shelf.

"Sure, honey," she said nonchalantly.

You scoffed, your arms crossing over your chest. "There is nothing between Keishin and me. We're just fr—" The word caught in your throat, your voice faltering. Friends. Could you even call yourselves that? After all, you hated each other.

"...Friends," you repeated, softer this time, as your gaze lowered.

Mio merely raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Real convincing, sweetie."

Your cheeks flared red as you turned back to her. "We're not a thing!"

Her amused expression didn't waver, and before you could argue further, a familiar voice called out from behind the blue curtains...

"Mom, where did you put my—" Ukai's voice cut through the quiet air as he pushed through the blue curtains, his movements slow, almost lazy. A cigarette dangled loosely from his lips, unlit, and his free hand ruffled through his messy blond hair that had begun to dry. His posture was relaxed, habitual, until his sharp eyes locked onto you. His brows furrowed, his entire body momentarily still as he processed your presence.

"What are you still doing here?" His voice was gruff, slightly raspy.

At least he had clothes on now, and his dirty blonde hair was tied up with a familiar headband, his new signature look that was honestly way better than the buzzed hair, you had to admit. The soft orange hoodie he wore hung comfortably on his frame, contrasting against the dark blue sweatpants. Over it, a white apron was tied snugly around his waist, showing he had already settled into his work routine.

You stood there, still reeling from the embarrassment of his mother's antics, your face slightly flushed. "I—" you barely managed to start, but Mio was quicker.

"Oh, she was just telling me how cute you were." Her voice was filled with amusement, her expression nothing short of mischievous.

Your eyes widened in horror, your heart practically stopping. "NO, I WASN'T!" You blurted out, your voice higher than you intended, pure panic laced in every syllable. The betrayal was immediate, and yet, Sakanoshita only chuckled, clearly enjoying herself.

Ukai, however, barely reacted. Instead, he simply let out a tired sigh. "Mom, leave her alone. She has other stuff to do." His tone was calm, matter-of-fact, as he walked past you toward the shelves, already focusing on stocking supplies. That alone was enough to startle you. No teasing? No smug smirk? No witty remark to embarrass you further? It was a golden opportunity, and yet he let it pass.

"Aww, look at you, defending your girlfriend." Mio cooed, placing a hand over her chest as if touched by the moment.

Ukai immediately stiffened, his entire body jerking upright like a startled cat. "Mom!" His voice shot up, filled with a mix of exasperation and disbelief, but Mio only grinned, raising her hands in mock surrender.

"Okay, okay, I'm kidding. I'll stop." Her playful smile remained as she finally backed down.

You exhaled deeply, relieved that the embarrassing moment was over. Thank god.

"Well, thank you for your hospitality, Mio, but I should go. My grandpa's probably getting worried—" You began, already inching toward the door, eager to escape this relentless teasing.

But before you could make it, Mio's hands caught yours, her grip firm yet gentle, her expression suddenly shifting into something far softer—almost pleading. "Wait! You're leaving already? But you just got here!" Her voice held a note of sadness, her brows drawing together as if the very thought of you leaving so soon pained her.

Your heart clenched at the sight. "I'm sorry, I—"

"No, please! At least come have dinner with us on Friday night!" Her eyes shimmered with sincerity, and it became nearly impossible to deny her request.

"What?!" Ukai's reaction was immediate, his voice rising in alarm as he practically sprinted to your side. "No, absolutely not! Besides, Y/n lives in Tokyo. You're not going to make her come all the way here on Friday night and back when she already has to be here on Saturday for training."

"You're right," she mumbled, bringing a hand to her chin and Ukai sighed in relief.

For a moment, you thought he had saved you. But then—

Mio's eyes lit up. "So we'll do it on Saturday night then! That way, Y/n doesn't have to make any unnecessary travels!" She beamed, proud of her own solution.

Ukai's jaw nearly dropped. He had completely walked into that one.

You, on the other hand, felt hesitation creep in. "I-I don't know—"

"No, no, you're coming for dinner! I will not accept anything else!" Mio declared with unwavering determination, her hands on her hips, her stance one of absolute authority.

Your gaze flickered toward Ukai, who had already begun pinching the bridge of his nose, looking every bit as resigned as you felt. There was no winning against her.

Defeated, you sighed. "Alright, I'll be there." You would have to spend not only an entire day with Ukai but now also an entire evening. Great, just fucking great.

Mio squealed in excitement, clapping her hands before immediately wrapping her arms around both you and Ukai, pulling you into a tight embrace. The two of you instinctively leaned back, trying to touch as little as possible before she finally let go.

"Oh, I'm so excited!" She practically vibrated with joy. "You'll tell me all about yourself and how you've been! Oh, and bring your grandfather as well! I would love to see him!"

You forced a small, awkward smile "Will do, haha..." You mumbled, scratching the back of your head, nodding along as Mio continued to excitedly talk about the dinner preparations.

She was already walking away, still talking (mostly to herself) as you and Ukai were left standing there, in the middle of the shop, both still recovering from the whirlwind that was his mother. Then, she slipped through the curtains, her presence vanishing into the aisles beyond. The moment she was out of sight, both of you let out exhausted groans, the weight of the conversation and its implications settling uncomfortably between you.

Ukai ran a hand down his face, exhaling sharply before shaking his head. "I can't believe I'm gonna be stuck with you an entire evening on top of the training day!" His tone carried the same exasperation you felt.

You turned to him with an irritated glare. "Yeah, and whose fault is that?! Apparently, she missed the relationship update between us—oh, I don't know—EIGHT YEARS AGO." You folded your arms, feeling the frustration bubble in your chest.

Ukai scoffed, crossing his arms as well. "You think I didn't tell her about what you did in high school? She just doesn't care. She hears and decides whatever she wants." His voice was edged with irritation, but there was something beneath it—a tired resignation.

You narrowed your eyes at him, disbelief etched into your face. "What I did? Did you fail to mention what you did to me?!" Your voice raised slightly, the old wound ripping open once more, just as raw as it had been years ago.

Ukai's jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with annoyance. "Why would I? I didn't fucking do it!" His voice was sharp, defensive, as if he'd repeated this statement more times than he could count.

Your lips curled into a humorless smile, bitter and sharp. "Oh, right. You didn't," you drawled, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. "You were just some innocent bystander while my entire life almost went up in flames. Got it."

He rolled his eyes and let out a frustrated breath. "I don't know why we're even getting into this again. I told you the truth back then, and you didn't believe me. What's the point of this now?"

You scoffed, shaking your head. "Oh, that's rich coming from you, considering the fact that I didn't do it either and you didn't believe me!" Your voice cracked slightly, but you swallowed hard, pushing down the wave of emotion threatening to rise.

Ukai let out a hollow, humorless laugh, running a hand through his messy hair. "Right, right. Your notebook just magically appeared in his hands. Like some kind of divine intervention?" His sarcasm was biting, and it only made your blood boil further.

You opened your mouth to argue, to scream, to make him understand, but you stopped yourself. You bit down on your knuckle, forcing yourself to take a steadying breath. It was useless. It had always been useless.

"Whatever," you muttered, your voice quieter now, tired and worn. "You don't have to believe me. I don't care what you think anymore." Your gaze drifted away from him, fixing on some unseen spot beyond the shelves.

Ukai studied you for a moment, his lips parting slightly like he wanted to say something—but he hesitated.

You took in a deep breath, steeling yourself. "But even if I had done what you accuse me of—which I didn't," you emphasized, your eyes flickering back to him, "what you did to me was way worse, Keishin. You could've cost me my entire career."

The words hung in the air like a thick fog, suffocating and unshakable. Ukai's expression darkened, his jaw tightening as something unreadable flickered through his eyes—guilt? Anger? Something else entirely?

His voice was lower this time, quieter, almost desperate. "How many times do I have to say it? It wasn't me!"

You exhaled sharply, giving a bitter smile. "Right. And my coach didn't catch you red-handed in my locker. She was just in on it too, right? Part of some grand conspiracy to frame you?" Your voice dripped with sarcasm, but there was a hollowness behind it, an ache that never quite left.

Ukai groaned, dragging his hands down his face. "I already told you that—"

You held up a hand, stopping him. "Don't," Your voice was quiet but firm, resolute. "I don't have the strength to do this all over again. Not here. Not now." You swallowed hard, shifting your gaze away. "Let's just... at least tolerate each other for your mom's sake at dinner. Okay?"

Ukai clenched his jaw, his hands curling into fists at his sides, but after a long pause, he exhaled and nodded stiffly. "Fine."

That was all there was left to say.

Without another word, you turned on your heel and walked toward the exit, your footsteps feeling heavier with each step. The bell above the door jingled as you reached for the handle, but before you could step outside, Ukai's voice called out softly.

"Y/n,"

You stopped in place but didn't turn around.

His voice was different this time, softer, stripped of all the irritation and anger that had coated it before. "For what it's worth... I would've never tried to ruin your career."

Silence stretched between you both, broken only by the distant sounds of traffic outside.

You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment before responding, your voice just as soft, just as heavy. "And I would've never betrayed you like that."

Then, before your emotions could betray you, you stepped out into the open air, letting the door swing shut behind you with a final, hollow chime of the bell.

Inside the shop, Ukai remained frozen in place, staring at the door as if willing it to open again, as if trying to rewrite the past that neither of you could seem to escape. A bittersweet expression crossed his face, but he said nothing. The only sound left in the store was the hum of the refrigerators and the distant murmur of his mother's cheerful humming, oblivious to the storm that had just passed between you two.

***

 

Chapter 18: Lost And Found

Chapter Text

You stepped outside, the shop's door swinging shut behind you with a faint chime from the old doorbell. The weight of the conversation with Ukai still pressed against your chest, but the warm midday air wrapped around you, urging you forward. The sky was a brilliant blue, the sunlight casting long shadows on the pavement, shimmering off the distant rooftops. Summer was fast approaching, bringing with it the familiar electric buzz of the Interhigh. The big qualifications for the nationals were next week already. Everything you'd been training your team for.

You exhaled slowly, letting the tension ease from your shoulders as you walked down the street. It had been nearly two months since you started training Nekoma, and in that short time, you had come to know the boys better than you expected. Their quirks, their strengths, their weaknesses. They had wormed their way into your heart, their relentless passion reminding you of what it meant to believe in something so completely. You had no doubt in their potential. They were capable of making it to Nationals—even if the road was littered with fierce competition. And even if they didn't, it wouldn't change a thing. They had already proven themselves in so many ways. You were proud of them and so was your grandfather. You smiled to yourself until your eyes widedened.

Your grandfather.

"Fuck," you muttered, your stomach tightening as you fumbled for your phone. Pressing the power button, you waited, but the screen remained dark. No charge. "Damn it," You clicked your tongue in frustration, shoving the useless device back into your pocket. There had to be a telephone booth somewhere nearby, right? Maybe even a shop where you could borrow a charger? You picked up your pace, eyes scanning the unfamiliar streets, hoping for a stroke of luck.

But in your rush, you didn't notice the person in front of you until it was too late.

You collided with someone, your shoulder hitting theirs with enough force to make you stumble back a step. "Oh, sorry—" you started, but the words died on your tongue when you got a good look at the person you had bumped into.

A group of boys stood before you, some sitting on low walls, others crouching near a pile of discarded cigarette butts, laughter and low murmurs filling the space. A few held cans of cheap beer and were eating sandwiches, others idly smoked, exhaling slow tendrils of smoke into the warm air. The boy you had run into turned, irritation flashing across his sharp features. He wasn't much older than the one in the convenience store—maybe a year or two—but his glare burned with the kind of arrogance that came with trying too hard to look tough. His uniform was messy, his shirt untucked, a loose tie hanging limply around his collar.

"Oi, can't you watch where you're going, old lady?!" he snapped, stepping closer, his presence invasive.

Your brows twitched. Old lady? Really?

You lifted a brow, taking a slow step back but keeping your posture firm. "Old lady? That's rich coming from someone who looks like he still gets told to be home before sunset. What's next? You gonna ask your mom for permission to throw a punch?" You provoked.

The boy's eye twitched, his lip curling in anger. A few of his friends snickered behind him, and that only seemed to make him angrier.

"You got a death wish or somethin'?" he growled, fists clenching.

You sighed, already regretting engaging. "Look, I arleady apologized, man. I wasn't paying attention. So, I'm just gonna go—" You moved to step around him, but he shot an arm out, blocking your path.

"You're not going anywhere," he sneered, cracking his knuckles. "You nearly killed me just now. You need to pay for that."

Your patience was wearing thin. "Right. Because that tiny bump was clearly a near-death experience for you. Should I call an ambulance? Maybe they can check for any serious injuries—like bruised ego syndrome?" You crossed your arms, tilting your head.

His face twisted in fury, and in a flash, he lunged at you, hand reaching out, but before he could even come close—

A strong arm shoved in between you both, halting the attack effortlessly. But your eyes widened in surprise as you recognised him. It was the boy from the convenience store. The one with the intense eyes and the quiet, brooding presence. He stood firm, his stance solid, his grip on the delinquent's wrist unyielding.

"What the hell are you doing, Big Shrimp?!" The delinquent snarled, yanking his arm back, face twisting with annoyance. "Can't you see I'm busy with this bitch? So go back to your place and let me handle it."

Big Shrimp—an unfortunate nickname, really—didn't move. His grip loosened, but he didn't step aside. His face remained impassive, calm even, as he spoke, voice low and steady. "You've already had three run-ins with the cops in the past two months, Umeji. One more screw-up and they said they'd throw you in juvie. Even as a minor."

Umeji flinched, his hands balling into fists before his gaze darted back to you, his expression unreadable.

"She's not worth it," Big Shrimp continued, his voice laced with a quiet authority. "Let it go, man."

A tense silence fell between them.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Umeji exhaled sharply, rolling his eyes. "Fine," he spat, stepping back with an irritated huff. "You're lucky, old lady." He said with a threatening voice to you before he turned to his group, jerking his head in the opposite direction. "Come on, guys. Let's get out of here."

As they started to walk away, Umeji paused beside Big Shrimp, clapping a hand on his shoulder with a smirk. "I'll see you tonight, Big Shrimp," he murmured darkly before shoving past him and disappearing down the street.

The moment they were gone, you let out a breath you didn't realize you had been holding. Maybe insulting the leader of a delinquent group, young or not, hadn't been the best idea but in your defense, you'd been jumpy all morning already.

Once the group of delinquents had disappeared down the street, their laughter fading into the distance, the boy let out a long, exhausted sigh. His broad shoulders, tense with anticipation just moments ago, finally eased, and he turned to you with an expression that was both kind and weary. His deep brown eyes, barely masked by his messy hair, held a maturity that seemed almost out of place for someone so young.

"Are you okay, Miss?" His voice was low, gentle even, but the slight rasp in it hinted at someone who had spent more time speaking in shouts than casual conversation.

But instead of hearing his question you focused on something else —his sheer height. You had noticed it earlier but seeing him standing right in front of you was something else. He was tall, freakishly tall. How old was he?

His brow furrowed and hesitated before answering, as if reluctant to reveal it. "I'm... uh... I'm fourteen, Miss."

Your eyes widened slightly. Had you asked that out loud? The amused glint in his gaze told you yes.

"You're very young," you murmured, still taking in his size before shifting your gaze back to his face. "And you don't seem like these thugs, yet they seem to know you very well, Big Shrimp. What are you doing hanging out with people like that?"

At the mention of his nickname, his brows furrowed in mild annoyance, his lips pressing into a thin line. He inhaled through his nose, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Look, I just asked if you were okay, not for life lessons," he muttered, already turning to walk away, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his oversized hoodie.

You realized then that you'd been too forward, too intrusive. The last thing a teenager wanted was to be lectured by a stranger.

"You're right, you're right. I'm sorry," you said quickly, falling into step beside him despite his obvious attempt to leave you behind. His strides were long, purposeful, but you matched them with ease. "Thank you, though," you added after a beat. "For not letting that guy hit me."

He let out a quiet hum, an acknowledgment, though he didn't look at you.

"I'm Y/N, by the way," you offered, hoping to keep the conversation going.

He finally turned his head slightly, his gaze flickering to yours before darting away just as fast. "I know who you are..." he blurted out without thinking, voice softer, shyer than before. His sudden hesitance made you raise a brow in curiosity.

"Oh?" You prompted, tilting your head. "And how do you know me?"

His cheeks tinted a faint shade of red, and he straightened up, almost as if embarrassed. "You're Y/N Nekomata, professional volleyball player..."

A grin tugged at the corner of your lips. "Ohhh, so you're a volleyball fan, huh? Do you play?"

His shoulders stiffened slightly, and for a moment, he still refused to meet your eyes. "I used to," His voice lacked the same confidence it had before, now tinged with something else—something almost mournful.

Your smile faded slightly as you studied him, sensing the shift in his demeanor. "Used to?" you echoed, curiosity piqued. "What happened?"

At this, he looked at you, confused at your curiosity and bluntness.

You quickly chuckled, waving a hand dismissively. "Right, too personal. Sorry."

You continued walking, letting a comfortable silence settle for a moment. The warm afternoon breeze tousled your hair, and the sound of distant traffic filled the quiet space between you. But something about his sadness gnawed at you, making it impossible to ignore. 

"I know you didn't ask for life lessons but," you started, your voice softer now, more thoughtful, "you know, passion comes and goes."

He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, his expression unreadable but listening.

"Sometimes, you can be completely obsessed with it, to the point where it's all you think about, day and night," You let out a small chuckle at the memory, eyes flickering to the sky. "And then, sometimes, with life, with time, with everything else getting in the way, you're not even sure if you love it anymore. You start feeling like you've lost it, like it's different now, like it isn't the same as before."

You turned to him, offering a knowing smile. "But let me tell you something—true passion never really leaves you. Even when you think it's gone, even when you convince yourself you've lost it, it's still there. Somewhere deep inside, waiting."

His gaze lingered on you longer this time, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. "You... you stopped liking volleyball?" he asked, his voice quieter, almost hesitant.

Your smile faltered for just a moment before you nodded. "Back in my first year of high school, I was having a hard time deciding what I wanted to do with my life. Volleyball had always been everything to me, but suddenly, I wasn't so sure anymore. I was scared that I wouldn't be able to make a career out of it. That I'd give everything to it and still fail." You exhaled deeply, eyes distant as you let the memories wash over you. "And the more I thought about it, the more the fear consumed me. It got so bad that I started neglecting my training. I convinced myself it was useless to try, that I wasn't good enough, that I'd never be good enough."

You shook your head with a bittersweet chuckle. "And I let those thoughts win. Slowly, I lost my passion for volleyball. To the point where I stopped showing up to practice altogether and almost quit."

His eyes were locked onto yours now, completely engrossed. "And then what?" he asked, the tiniest hint of desperation in his voice. "How did you get your passion back?"

You inhaled, the weight of old emotions settling in your chest as you prepared to answer.

"Well..." you started, your eyes drifting to the road next to you and the sound of passing cars making the memories resurface.

---

Tokyo - nine years ago (second year of high school):

The cold night air nipped at your skin as you walked along the dimly lit sidewalk, the hum of passing cars blending into the distant murmur of the city. The streetlights cast elongated shadows, flickering as the occasional gust of wind made them sway. It was late, much later than you'd realized, but the time didn't matter. None of it mattered anymore. You had made your decision.

The spring tournament had ended in disappointment, just as it had the year before. Your team hadn't even come close to making it to nationals. No matter how hard you trained, how much effort you poured into each game, it never seemed to be enough. And so, you told yourself, it was time to stop chasing something that was never meant for you.

Your teachers had always told you volleyball was just a phase, a distraction from what was really important. They urged you to focus on your grades, to think about your future beyond the court. You had resisted for so long, believing that passion alone was enough to carry you forward. But after tonight, you had no fight left. Maybe they were right. Maybe it was time to grow up.

Even if a small, fragile part of you was screaming otherwise.

Your fingers curled into fists as you walked the familiar path toward the school gym, where your gear was still packed away in your locker. That was the final step. Gather your things, go home, and let volleyball become nothing more than a memory. Your grandfather would be heartbroken—you knew that much. He had always supported you, always believed in your potential, but you were sure he'd understand. Eventually.

The gym loomed ahead, dark except for a sliver of light spilling through the doors. You hesitated. Was the coach still inside? You weren't ready to explain yourself tonight, not when you were barely holding it together. You inhaled sharply and reached for the handle, steeling yourself, but then—

A sound.

The rhythmic bounce of a ball against the polished floor echoed through the space. Your breath hitched as you froze, mind racing. That wasn't your coach. She wouldn't be practicing this late. So who—?

Pushing the door open just enough to peek inside, your eyes widened at the sight before you.

Keishin Ukai.

There he stood, clad in his Karasuno uniform, the number 2 stitched proudly on his back. He was moving with effortless precision, his body adjusting instinctively as he hit the ball against the wall, caught it, and repeated the motion.

"What the hell?" you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper. As if sensing your presence, he stopped mid-motion, catching the ball one last time before turning to face you. A knowing smirk played on his lips.

"About time you showed up."

You blinked, utterly baffled. "Keishin? What are you doing here?" Your eyes darted around the empty gym before landing back on him. "And in Tokyo, of all places? It's a school night, shouldn't you be in Miyagi?"

"I should, yes. But I'm not," He rolled his shoulders, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand as he strode toward you. "Because I knew you'd be here."

You frowned. "What?"

He ignored your confusion, bouncing the ball once before tossing it gently in your direction. Instinctively, you caught it, fingers tightening around the worn leather.

"I know you like the back of my hand, Y/N," he said simply, his gaze steady and unwavering. "And I know exactly what you're about to do."

Your breath caught in your throat. He couldn't possibly—

"I can't let you do this," he continued, his voice softer now but no less determined. "Not when you're on your way to becoming one of the most skilled players of our generation. And for what?" His jaw tightened. "Because you're scared?"

You looked away sharply, the sting of his words cutting deeper than you cared to admit.

He shook his head, frustration clear in his stance. "No. I can't accept that. I won't let you throw everything away because you're afraid to try."

A sharp heat flared in your chest, bubbling into something dangerously close to anger. Your fingers clenched around the volleyball as you met his gaze head-on. "You don't understand, Keishin."

His eyes darkened. "Then make me understand."

"You don't get it, Keishin!" The words ripped from your throat, raw and trembling with emotion. "My entire life, I've been training and training to become a professional player. That's all I know! That's all I'm good at! But lately, it's like this suffocating weight has been pressing down on me. I wake up, and it's there. I go to practice, and it's there. It follows me home, whispers in my ear when I try to sleep. What if I fail? What if no matter how hard I push myself, I still won't be good enough? Then what?!"

Your voice cracked, the frustration, the fear bubbling to the surface as your hands clenched into fists. "All these years, all my sweat, my sacrifices, my time—what if it was all for nothing? What if I wake up one day, and I've wasted my life chasing something that was never within my reach?" The tears in your eyes burned, but you refused to blink them away. "I see the professional players, Keishin. I study their movements, their reflexes, their strategies. Every time I watch them, I see the impossible gap between us, and I can't shake this feeling that no matter what I do, no matter how hard I train, I'll never bridge that distance. I'll never be good enough."

Your breath hitched as you let out a bitter laugh. "So yeah, Keishin! I'm fucking scared! I'm terrified of failing, of losing everything I've worked for, of waking up one day and realizing I was never meant to play this sport in the first place!"

You had poured your soul into those words, and for a moment, there was silence. But then, Keishin's voice rang out, steady and sure.

"So what if you're scared?!" He shot back, his voice loud, firm, unwavering. "Thank god you're scared! I'd be more worried if you weren't!"

You blinked at him, startled by his intensity, but he wasn't done. He stepped closer, his eyes locked onto yours with a determination that sent your pulse racing.

"Y/n, fear isn't a sign that you should quit. Fear means you care. Fear means this dream of yours actually matters. And you know what? Every single player who's ever made it big—every last one of them—were scared, too. You think you're the only one who's doubted yourself? Who's questioned if you have what it takes? But the difference between the ones who make it and the ones who don't?" He paused, his gaze searching yours. "It's that they didn't let their fear win. And I refuse to stand here and watch you let yours win when you have every chance to become a wonderful professional player."

Your eyes widened and your heart skipped a beat as he took another step forward, erasing the space between you.

"And you," his hand reached for yours, his grip firm yet gentle, grounding you in place, "you are the most talented, the most skilled, the most hardworking, the most ambitious, the most impressive—"

Your face burned as you shook your head, a weak chuckle escaping your lips despite yourself.  "Okay, okay, I get it, you can stop now."

"Hold on, I'm not done," he countered, completely ignoring your protests as he tightened his grip slightly. His lips curled into a smirk before he continued, "The most determined, the most inspiring, the prettiest—"

"Prettiest?" you raised an eyebrow.

"What?" He feigned innocence. "It's true! Between all the sweaty guys I have to train with, you're the prettiest. And I'm not saying this to boost your ego. I think it's already massive enough—"

"Ouch!" he yelped as you playfully smacked his shoulder.

"And you were doing so well," you muttered, amused, rolling your eyes, but your heart was hammering so loudly in your ears that you barely heard yourself speak. "You're stupid,"

Keishin chuckled, rubbing his shoulder, his eyes never leaving yours. "Maybe, but I'm not blind. Any guy would be a fool to not see you." He replied and your heart skipped a beat. 

The air between you shifted, thickened, the teasing moment suddenly melting into something else entirely. Something heavier. Something you weren't prepared for.

You felt it instantly—a flutter deep in your stomach, an unsettling awareness of the boy standing so close to you. Your breathing faltered, your throat suddenly dry. And as if your body were betraying you, your hands trembled ever so slightly in his grasp. Your fingers tingled where they touched his skin, and you noticed how warm his hands were, how securely they held yours.

Your gaze lifted to his face again, and for the first time, you truly saw him.

His face, usually so familiar, looked different in the dim gym lights. His shaved head only made his sharp features stand out more—his strong jaw, the way his dark eyes gleamed with certainty, his lips slightly parted as if he was about to say something more. His smile, always cocky and teasing, suddenly felt warmer, softer, something that made your chest tighten in a way you didn't understand.

And his eyes—sharp yet warm, flickering with something you didn't recognize. Something that sent your heart stumbling over itself.

Your breath hitched.

When had Keishin Ukai become this handsome?

You swallowed, hard. He had always been your best friend and your rival in a sense, someone who challenged you, frustrated you, pushed you beyond your limits but also comforted you. Someone you knew like the back of your hand. You had never thought of him as anything more than that. 

But standing here, in this moment, under the quiet hum of the gym lights, with his hand wrapped around yours and his gaze unwavering, you weren't so sure anymore. Something changed.

Suddenly becoming aware of the situation, both of you let go of each other's hands, the warmth lingering longer than it should. A strange, almost electric tension hung in the air, foreign and disorienting. Why were you suddenly so nervous around him? This was Ukai—loud, teasing, annoying and your best friend Ukai. But your fingers tingled where his had been, and the rapid beating of your heart didn't seem to be slowing down.

You clasped your hands together in an attempt to ground yourself, subtly shifting your weight from foot to foot, while Ukai rubbed the back of his head, his usual confident smirk faltering just a little. He cleared his throat, breaking the silence first.

"So, am I or am I not your awesome and impossibly handsome best friend who just saved you from making the biggest mistake of your life?" he asked, the playful grin returning to his face, though there was a noticeable edge of uncertainty in his voice.

You smirked, eager to push away the awkwardness. "Mmm, I don't know if I'm completely convinced yet. Besides, I think my biggest mistake was tolerating you long enough for you to develop a bigger ego than mine in the first place."

He let out a dramatic sigh, shaking his head. "Alright, if you're not entirely convinced, fine. Let's settle this another way." He took a step back, his gaze flickering toward the court, a challenge glinting in his eyes.

You narrowed your eyes in suspicion. "Oh no, I know that look."

"Let's play volleyball. You and me, right now." He gestured toward the court confidently. "If you win, fine, I'll back off. You can quit volleyball and waste your life doing boring academic stuff or whatever. But if I win, then you stay in the club, no complaints, no doubts. You try your hardest to get to the top. Deal?"

Your eyes flickered between the empty court and his determined stance. A slow smile spread across your lips as an idea formed. "Fine," you agreed, crossing your arms. "But if I win, you have to grow your hair out."

His face twisted in pure horror. "What?! No way. I like my head just the way it is! Do you know how much effort long hair takes to maintain?"

"But you know how much I love long hair," you countered, tilting your head with a smug expression. "And honestly, I think it would suit you."

Ukai scowled but after a long pause, he exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "You know what? Fine. But only because I know I'll win." He stepped closer, eyes burning with confidence. "You've been slacking off these past few months, Y/N. You're not as unbeatable as you think."

You raised a brow, lips twitching as you took his hand in a firm shake. "We'll see about that."

As your hands clasped, an unexpected rush of warmth shot through you, sending butterflies fluttering wildly in your stomach. You barely had time to process the sensation before he turned, jogging to the other side of the court, a competitive fire lighting up his features.

You picked up the ball, breathing in deeply as you rolled it between your fingers. This felt right. The court, the stakes, the challenge—it was everything you had been trying to ignore, and yet it called to you as naturally as breathing. As you tossed the ball in the air and served, you knew, deep down, that the match didn't really matter. Ukai had already won the moment he finished that speech.

The game was exhilarating, a rush of adrenaline and pure instinct. Every movement, every spike, every dive was a reminder of the thrill you had been trying to leave behind. And yet, amidst the excitement, you found yourself distracted. Not by doubt, not by fear, but by him.

The way he moved—sharp, calculated, powerful. The determined set of his jaw, the way his sharp eyes tracked the ball, the unfiltered joy in his laughter when he managed to score a point against you. And that damn smile, brighter than you ever remembered. Your heart pounded harder than it should, your breath catching in your throat every time your gazes met across the net.

You had never looked at him like this before. Had he always been like this? Had his voice always made your stomach twist? Had his presence always felt this warm? It was terrifying how suddenly everything shifted.

And in the end, you didn't know exactly why, but you let him win.

You barely registered the loss because before you knew it, Ukai had sprinted across the court, his laughter echoing in the gym as he wrapped you up in a tight hug, lifting you off the ground for just a second. The warmth of his arms around you sent a shiver down your spine, your hands awkwardly hovering before hesitantly gripping the back of his shirt.

Your face was burning, your heartbeat deafening. The way you saw him had changed. And that realization terrified you more than anything else.

---

"Let's just say a friend of mine reminded me how much volley ball meant to me." You smiled as you turned your head back to him

The boy beside you blinked a few times, his youthful face creased with curiosity. Then, turning his gaze toward the night sky, he smiled softly. "Must have been a pretty good friend."

You exhaled, a bittersweet curve to your lips. "The best of friends," you admitted, the words heavy with tenderness though they hurt to even say it now. You'd be lying if you said you didn't miss your friendship with Ukai before what happened. To you he'd always been your best friend, your anchor, a force, even though at one point, he'd become more than a friend to your eyes.  

 But even so, what you had, had always been so special, so deep. You never felt a connection like this with anyone else, which is why this betrayal had hurt and still hurt more than anything you could ever experience. That day, you didn't only lose your best friend, you'd lost your soulmate. 

The boy studied you for a moment, his hands fidgeting slightly, betraying a nervous energy. "Hey, can I ask you something personal?"

You tilted your head, intrigued by his hesitance. "Sure."

His fingers intertwined as he seemed to consider how to phrase his question. "How is it that you're back in Japan? I didn't know you lived here in Miyagi."

You hesitated for the briefest second before composing yourself. "Oh no, I live in Tokyo. I just came here to see my mo—" You stopped yourself, the word thick in your throat, too undeserving for the person it belonged to. "A distant relative."

His eyebrows twitched slightly at your correction, but he didn't press. Instead, he nodded, allowing you the space to breathe.

"And as for why I'm back in Japan..." You turned to him, a teasing glint in your eyes. "You promise not to tell anyone?"

Immediately, he straightened, pressing a hand to his chest before making an exaggerated cross over his heart. "Cross my heart and hope to die."

You chuckled at his theatrics and bumped your shoulder lightly against his. "I'm just messing with you."

Still grinning, he waited, clearly eager to hear the truth.

You sighed, the teasing fading into something quieter, something more real. "I think a simple Google search gives you the answer anyway, but... the truth is, I got severely injured during one of my matches. Ultimately ending... well, my career."

The moment the words left your mouth, his entire expression shifted. His excitement dulled into something somber, his lips parting slightly as though he wanted to say something but couldn't quite find the words.

"Oh..." he finally murmured, the sympathy in his voice almost unbearable. "I'm so sorry."

You smiled softly, appreciating the sentiment even if the wound still ached sometimes. "Thanks. It was hard at first, but..." You paused, memories of the past few months flooding in. The time spent with your grandfather, the resurgence of old bonds with Nekoma, the new, unexpected connections you were forming with Karasuno. And then, there was Ukai, who was straight up annoying like the old days. "But now, I think I'm more than happy to be here."

The boy's lips curled up again, this time with something softer, understanding. "Then that's all that matters."

You nodded, exhaling the weight of everything that had brought you here. "Yeah. Plus, now I get to coach the super incredible team from my old school with my grandpa."

His eyes widened, excitement sparking back to life. "No way! You coach the Nekoma boys' team with Coach Nekomata?!"

You beamed, unable to hide your pride. "Well, yeah!"

He let out a noise that was something between a squeal and an exclamation, crossing his arms in frustration. "Oh my god! I've always wanted to go to Nekoma for high school, but every time I tried to bring it up, my mom immediately changed the subject, so I stopped."

Your ears perked at that. "Oh? Why Nekoma in particular? Apart from the fact that we're obviously and totally awesome, of course."

A light pink dusted across his cheeks as he played with his fingers, suddenly shy. Your curiosity piqued, and a knowing smile stretched across your lips. "Oh my god. Don't tell me that—"

His face paled before turning beet red as he realized where you were going with this. In sheer panic, he turned away from you, his entire demeanor screaming embarrassment. "N-No..."

Your smile only grew, thoroughly amused by his reaction. "It's because of me, isn't it?"

His entire body stiffened before he quickly spun around, shaking his head frantically. "No! That's not—!"

"Oh, come on, don't be shy!" You teased, stepping closer and grabbing his shoulder, attempting to turn him back to face you. But damn, was he strong for a fourteen-year-old. If anything, this just confirmed what you had been thinking—he'd be a hell of an asset to Nekoma.

Finally, he took a deep breath, his fingers curling slightly at his sides as if summoning every ounce of courage. "I-I mean... you're just a great player," he admitted, his voice quieter now, almost as if he were afraid to say it too loudly. "And really the only player around here that actually made it big. So yeah... part of the reason I wanted to go to Nekoma is because of you..."

His cheeks flushed a deep red, his eyes flickering anywhere but at you, and you couldn't help but smile at how endearing he looked. He reminded you of your boys back at Nekoma, the way they fumbled over their words when caught off guard. You were sure he'd get along with them better than he thought.

"What's the other reason?" you asked, tilting your head slightly, genuinely curious now.

He exhaled through his nose, some of his nervousness easing away. "Obviously to be coached by Nekomata," he said with a small smirk, then glanced back at you. "Or now, you as well, I guess."

You chuckled at that, shaking your head. He really was something else.

"But also," he hesitated, his fingers fidgeting as his expression turned more serious, "Tokyo is pretty far from here, so I would've been able to get away from my mom."

Your smile faded slightly as understanding settled in. His voice carried a weight that was too familiar, one that made your heart clench. Another thing in common. You studied him for a moment, noting the way his shoulders tensed as if he were bracing himself, the small hint of sadness in his eyes that he was trying to hide.

"Difficult mother?" you asked gently, careful not to push too hard.

"You could say that," he mumbled, his gaze dropping to the ground for a second before he quickly composed himself.

It broke your heart a little. He was a good kid, you could see it in the way he held himself, in the way he still had hope, even if it was buried under frustration. You didn't know why he was hanging around with those thugs, but you had a gut feeling that maybe... maybe you could help him.

A small idea formed in your mind, and you smiled. "Hey, what would you say to seeing Nekoma play?"

His head snapped up so fast you almost laughed. "You serious?!" he asked, his excitement bursting through, his eyes lighting up like a child on Christmas morning.

You grinned. You knew it—passion never really leaves, not when it's something you truly love.

"Damn right, I am. I'll introduce you to my grandpa and the entire team. They seem intimidating at first but deep down they're all big teddy bears, you'll see," You crossed your arms, looking proud, and his face practically glowed with enthusiasm.

"Oh my god, I-I would love to!" he nearly shouted, but then he hesitated, realization dawning on him as his excitement dimmed just a little. "But... I'm not sure I can come to Tokyo. I don't think my mom would agree..."

You simply smiled. "What if I told you Nekoma comes to Miyagi every Saturday for practice matches against Karasuno?"

His entire body jolted with excitement, his energy bursting out of him like a firecracker. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!" he exclaimed, his words tumbling over each other, and before you could react, he had thrown his arms around you in an impulsive hug.

For a second, you were taken aback, but before you could say anything, he seemed to realize what he had done and quickly jumped back, clearing his throat as his face turned beet red.

"Sorry..." he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, suddenly shy again.

You chuckled, waving it off. "Don't worry about it, kid. I'm just glad you're excited for this."

He nodded eagerly, his happiness practically radiating from him. "I really am! Thank you so much!"

You pulled out your phone, unlocking it with a swift motion. "Hey, how about I give you my number and you send me a message? My phone is dead right now so I can't take yours unfortunately but as soon as it's charged, I'll text you the time to come to the gym, alright?"

He didn't waste a second, quickly taking out his phone and typing as you recited your number.

"Perfect," you said, as he put back his phone into his pocket. "Now, do you have an actual name, or should I keep calling you Big Shrimp?"

"No, it's a terrible nickname," He laughed at that, shaking his head. "Please, call me Haru," He smiled, a little softer now, and that was when you froze.

What?

***

 

Chapter 19: For Him, Not You

Chapter Text

Your breath hitched, and your heart pounded violently against your ribs as his name echoed in your mind. It couldn't be. There was no way—right? Yet, the familiar syllables sent a wave of unease crashing over you, making your legs feel unsteady beneath you.

"Are you... okay?" His voice cut through the storm raging inside your head, pulling you back to the present. His eyes, warm and inquisitive, searched your face, completely oblivious to the way your entire world had just shifted on its axis.

You blinked rapidly, forcing a shaky smile onto your lips as you let out an awkward chuckle. "I-I... uh... yeah, yeah. I'm fine," you stammered, barely convincing yourself. "It's just... I know someone with the same name."

His brows lifted in surprise. "Really? That's cool! I always love when that happens. Who are they?" His voice was light, curious, completely unaware of the weight of his question.

Your throat tightened, and for a moment, your mind went blank. "I-uh... just my—uhm... brother," you managed to choke out, the word feeling foreign on your tongue. Brother. Was he your brother? If he was he had no idea. He had absolutely no clue that the person standing in front of him, the person he was chatting with so easily, was possibly the sister he'd never met. And that made your stomach twist with even more anger. At her. At your mother.

You had to be sure.

Swallowing thickly, you steadied your breath before speaking again. "Hey, uhm, weird question but..." Your voice was trembling slightly, but you forced yourself to keep going. "What's your mother's name?"

He frowned slightly at the question but shrugged it off without a second thought. "It's M/n. Why?"

And just like that, your entire body went still.

The air around you felt too thick to breathe, and for a brief moment, the world seemed to tilt. You could feel your pulse thrumming in your ears, your fingers twitching at your sides as you struggled to keep your expression neutral.

Oh god...

But you couldn't break now. You couldn't let him see the panic clawing at your insides. So, you did what you'd always done best—you forced yourself to act normal.

"O-Oh, no reason in particular, haha..." You let out another nervous laugh, waving your hand dismissively. "I just, uh, used to live around here, so I know most of the people in town. I was just curious if I knew her."

His eyes widened in surprise. "No way! You used to live here? I thought you were from Tokyo."

"Oh no, I was actually born here," you corrected, your voice wavering slightly before you steadied it. "Then I, uh... moved to live with my grandpa."

His face lit up in amazement. "Wow! I can't believe I'm from the same town as you! That's so cool!"

You forced a smile, nodding, but the longer you looked at him, the harder it became to keep it together. The more you focused on his features—the shape of his eyes, the slight curve of his nose, the familiar way his mouth twisted when he smiled—the more it became undeniable. You saw traces of yourself in him, reflections of the face you saw in the mirror every day.

It was overwhelming. You had to get out of here before you lost it.

"Anyway, I-I have to go, but I'll make sure to send you the info!" you blurted, already taking a step back.

He gripped his phone tightly, his expression flickering with something unreadable before he called out, "Wait!"

You stopped mid-step, turning back to him just in time to see his face tinting red as he toyed with his fingers. "I-uh... Could I... could I get a picture?" he asked nervously, his voice small but hopeful.

For a moment, everything else faded away. Your nerves, the panic, the anger—they all quieted under the overwhelming warmth that swelled in your chest as you watched him. It made you smiled, genuinly this time.

"Of course you can."

You stepped beside him as he lifted his phone, stretching his arm out to take the selfie. The two of you smiled as he captured the moment, and you could see it in his eyes—the same excitement, the same passion that had drawn you to volleyball, that had burned in you long before the world had forced you to let go of so much.

"Thank you so much!" He clutched his phone like it was something precious, his face practically glowing with happiness. "I can't wait for Saturday!"

Your heart clenched, and you found yourself watching him a little longer than necessary. How could she hide him from you all these years? How could she rob you of this—of knowing him, of growing up with him, of watching him turn into this bright, kind person? How could she take that away from both of you?

You swallowed hard before forcing yourself to smile. "Of course!"

He nodded eagerly, stepping back as he waved. "Alright then, I'll see you Saturday!"

But before he could turn away completely, something inside you screamed at you to stop him.

"Wait!" you called, stepping forward.

He turned, confused. "Yeah?"

You hesitated for a second, but then your voice softened. "If you need anything, or if you don't feel well, please... don't hesitate to call me, okay?"

His brows knitted slightly at your sudden concern, but eventually, he nodded. "Alright! Will do!"

And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there—frozen, shaken.

You had just met your brother. Your actual, blood-related brother.

The realization struck you like a bolt of lightning, sending shockwaves through your entire being. Your breath hitched, your fingers trembling slightly as they clenched into fists. Your mind reeled, memories flashing before your eyes—years of loneliness, of unanswered questions, of wondering why you had been cast aside by your mother. And now, out of nowhere, he had appeared. Your brother. Haru.

There was no time to dwell on it now. You needed to find your grandfather.

Without a second thought, you turned on your heel and bolted down the street, ignoring the curious glances of passersby. The pounding of your feet against the pavement matched the rapid thudding of your heart. Spotting a worn-down telephone booth at the corner of the road, you rushed inside, slamming the door shut behind you. With shaky hands, you dug into your pocket, fishing out a few coins before hastily feeding them into the slot and dialing your grandfather's number. Each ring seemed to stretch for eternity, the anticipation gnawing at you, suffocating you—until finally, the line picked up.

"Hello?"

Your grandfather's familiar voice washed over you like a wave of relief, though the guilt quickly followed.

"Hey... it's me," you said, your voice laced with hesitation. You'd left him behind yesterday. You hadn't given him any news until now. You knew he must have been worried sick.

"Oh, thank God, Y/N!" His voice cracked slightly, the emotion evident in his tone. "I was so worried something might have happened to you! I tried calling, sending you messages, but you didn't respond. I didn't know what to think—I was so scared. Oh, I'm so glad you're okay."

The raw relief in his voice made your chest tighten painfully. You swallowed hard, guilt weighing heavy on you. "I'm so sorry, Grandpa. After what happened, I wasn't thinking clearly, and I didn't even check my phone. I only just realized it was dead this morning. That's why I'm calling you from a telephone booth."

"Please, don't worry about that. I'm just glad you're safe." His voice softened, the tension easing slightly. "Where did you sleep last night?"

Your breath caught for a second. Shit. What were you supposed to say? 'Oh yeah, I actually passed out in the bushes, but luckily for me, Keishin was there and brought me back to his home. Oh, and also, we're invited for dinner on Saturday.' You could just imagine the reaction that would get. You shook your head quickly, trying to come up with a believable answer.

"I... I stayed at a friend's house. Don't worry," you replied, hoping he wouldn't pry further.

A sigh of relief came through the line. "Good. I'm glad you're okay," he said with a warmth that touvhed your heart. 

Then, after a brief pause, you added, "Look, I promise I'll be home soon. I just need to take care of something before and—"

"I didn't go home last night." He interrupted.

That made you stop short. "What?"

"I slept at your mother's house."

Your stomach twisted at the mention of her, your grip tightening around the receiver. "You didn't go back to Tokyo?"

"How could I? You were out there, all alone, and I had no idea where you were. I stayed up all night by my phone, just in case you needed me."

Your heart clenched painfully at his words. Guilt gnawed at your insides. He had worried himself sick over you, and you hadn't even had the decency to send him a simple message. You were a terrible granddaughter. "I'm so sorry, Grandpa."

"It's okay, Y/n. I understand why you did what you did."

A silence stretched between you, and then a sudden thought hit you like a freight train. If he had stayed at your mother's house, then...

"Grandpa," you started carefully, bracing yourself. "Did you... meet Haru?"

"No, actually," His answer came as a surprise. "apparently, he was staying at a friend's house that night."

"I see." Your brow furrowed in thought. 

Another pause. The gears in your mind were turning too fast. So, Haru hadn't been home last night. Was it because of the 'problems' your mother had vaguely mentioned? Had he been with those delinquent-looking guys you had encountered earlier? The thought unsettled you. If he was getting himself into trouble, you couldn't just stand by and do nothing.

You needed to help him.

A familiar beep brought you out of your thoughts, warning you that the telephone line would be cut off soon if you didn't put in more money. With a sigh, you opened your mouth again. "Look, grandpa, I'm running out of time on the telephone booth but I'll be there in ten minutes, okay?" You said and hung up without waiting for an answer.

Your feet carried you out of the telephone booth and down the street, your pace quick but your mind still racing. The moment you met Haru, something had clicked into place within you—like a missing puzzle piece finally snapping into its rightful spot without you knowing. There had been an instant connection, an unspoken bond that felt almost natural. The way he had put himself in-between that guy and you, the way he had spoken about his lost passion for volleyball, the way he had looked at you with admiration and excitement... Your heart had been screaming at you to help him.

And now you undestood why.

However, you bit your lip, a wave of frustration washing over you. You hated your mother. You had sworn to yourself that you wanted nothing to do with her, that you wouldn't let her manipulate you. And yet, here you were, about to do exactly what she had asked. She wanted you to help Haru—to keep an eye on him, to guide him. And despite everything your ego screamed, you wanted to do just that.

But not for her.

No, you weren't doing this because she had asked you to. You were doing it because Haru deserved better. He wasn't just some extension of your mother. He was his own person. He was his own soul, separate from the woman who had ruined so much of your childhood.

And that was enough for you to know—without a shadow of a doubt—that you needed to help him.

Not because he was your mother's son, but because he was your brother.

The view of your mother's house came into sight faster than you anticipated. The streets blurred past as your mind whirled with thoughts, rehearsing the confrontation over and over again. Each step you took felt heavier than the last, your determination fueling you forward, yet anxiety lingered in the pit of your stomach. Yesterday, you had stormed out, convinced you were done, that you'd never set foot in this house again. And yet, here you were, standing at the doorstep, about to tell her the very thing she wanted to hear. The knowledge that you were doing this for Haru and not for her didn't soothe your pride in the slightest.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed open the door and stepped inside. The familiar corridor stretched before you, lined with framed memories that you had refused to acknowledge yesterday. This time, you forced yourself to look. Your gaze roamed over the photos, and your breath hitched. There he was. Haru. Dozens of pictures captured his childhood, his growth, each moment frozen in time. In some, your mother stood beside him, smiling as if she had never abandoned another child before him. In others, a man stood proudly at their side, a man you could only assume to be Haru's father. Your fingers hovered over the glass of one frame, tracing the features that were undeniably familiar. It was real. That boy—the one who had defended you just moments before, who had spoken with stars in his eyes about volleyball—was your brother.

Your head swam as you forced yourself to move forward, your thoughts buzzing like an overworked hive. The scent of freshly brewed tea met your senses as you entered the living room. Your grandfather sat at the table, his fingers wrapped around a steaming cup, his posture tense. At the sound of your footsteps, his head lifted, and the moment his eyes met yours, relief flooded his face. Without hesitation, he stood and crossed the room, wrapping his arms around you.

"My little kitten," he murmured against your hair, holding you tightly.

You let yourself sink into his warmth, his familiar scent grounding you. "I'm not so little anymore, you know?" you murmured with a small smile.

He shook his head, his grip unwavering. "You'll always be my little kitten, no matter what age you are."

A chuckle escaped your lips, the rare moment of comfort easing the tension knotting your shoulders. But it was short-lived.

"Looks like someone finally came back to her senses."

The grating voice sent an immediate wave of irritation through you. Your mother stood at the entrance to the kitchen, a steaming mug in her hand, a smirk curling her lips.

Oh, she did not just say that.

"See? I told you she'd come back after clearing her head. She's always been quite the dramatic child," She took a leisurely sip of her coffee.

Your fingers clenched into fists at your sides, but you forced yourself to relax. Rolling your eyes, you gently pulled away from your grandfather and turned to face her directly. "First of all, I only came back to pick up Grandpa and go home, not to see you. Secondly, I still hate you and have no intention of forgiving you. Is that clear?" Your voice was sharp, controlled, each word slicing through the air with precision.

Maybe the second part was quite childish but you didn't care.

Your mother merely raised an eyebrow, her expression one of forced indifference, though you didn't miss the flicker of annoyance in her eyes. "Fine. I'm the bad guy, and you're the perfect daughter. Good for you."

Your jaw tightened as disbelief and anger simmered inside you. Was she really playing the victim?

You inhaled sharply, ready to lash out, but a gentle hand on your shoulder stopped you. Glancing to the side, you met your grandfather's weary gaze. He gave a subtle shake of his head, his silent plea clear: It's not worth it.

And he was right. She wasn't worth your energy.

Exhaling slowly, you turned back to her with a calm, yet firm expression. "I meant it when I said I was done with you."

Her lips parted slightly, caught off guard, but she quickly masked it. Before she could form a response, you continued.

"You asked me to come back into your life, not because you love me or Grandpa, but because you needed something from me. And that confirmed everything I ever thought about you." Your voice didn’t waver, didn’t crack. You wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of thinking, even for a second, that she still had any power over you.

"Yesterday, I was done. Finished. I was fully prepared to walk away, to disappear from your life for good. I was ready to pretend you didn’t exist, to forget that I ever wasted a second hoping you’d change and come back. I never wanted to meet the so-called brother you so desperately needed me to help because I wasn’t going to let you use me like a tool, like some disposable pawn in your twisted game. Because saying yes to you—helping you—would have meant forgiving you. And you don’t deserve that. You don’t get to just come back after all these years and expect to be let off without facing the consequences of what you did to me. To Grandpa."

You saw the briefest flicker of emotion cross her face—perhaps surprise, perhaps something deeper. But it didn't matter.

"However," you continued, "that was before I met Haru."

At his name, her entire demeanor shifted. Her fingers tightened around the coffee mug, her posture stiffening. "Y-You met Haru? But when?"

Her voice wavered, and for the first time, she looked truly unsettled.

"Today," you answered, watching her reaction like a hawk. "By complete accident. I didn’t even know who he was at first, and that was the best thing that could’ve happened. Because it meant we talked like normal people—without me running, without any of your bullshit between us." You let the words sink in, let her feel the weight of them before you delivered the next blow.

"And in just a few hours, I learned more about Haru than you ever bothered to. I learned that he’s kind. He’s funny. He’s generous and passionate—or at least, he used to be passionate—until life or I'm strating to think your life, drained that from him." Your eyes locked onto hers, burning with years of pent-up fury. "And that’s when I realized something. You were right. Haru does need help. He needs someone to remind him what it's like to have a passion that drives him forward. And I want to help him in any way I can."

For a second, a rare smile flickered across her lips, but you knew exactly what she was thinking. But before she could even begin to twist this into a victory, you struck the final blow.

"However, let me make one thing crystal clear," you said, voice steady, sharp as glass. "Everything I do from this moment forward is not for you. It will never be for you."

And just like that, the satisfaction in her eyes shattered.

"I’m doing this for Haru. Because he’s my brother. Because he deserves better. Better than this. Better than you." You said and her eyes narrowed in anger. "A selfush mother who didn't have the decency to tell the truth. You robbed him of a family, just like you robbed us." You took a slow, deliberate step closer, your voice calm even though your insides were boiling with rage, a rage that had been waiting to erupt.

Her eyes widened in horror, her lips parting as if she wanted to interject, but you didn't give her the chance.

"That's right," you continued, stepping forward. "I know you never told him anything. And when he asked about Nekoma, about going there, you shut him down. Every. Single. Time." Your voice was steady, controlled, but underneath, it was pure venom. "Because you knew damn well that if he went there, he would meet grandpa. And he would eventually meet me. And then your little secret? It would all come crashing down."

"I was going to tell him eventually!" she shouted, her voice high-pitched and defensive. Desperate.

You scoffed, folding your arms as you raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? When, huh? When exactly? Because you've had fourteen years to do so. So why now?" You tilted your head mockingly, watching her squirm under your glare. "Oh wait—I know why. You told me everything yesterday."

She stiffened.

"Before your husband left, you couldn't have Haru going to Nekoma. You couldn't have him meeting us. Because that would mean exposing the life you abandoned and lied about to your husband, and you couldn't risk tarnishing your perfect little world, right?" You tilted your head, your words dripping with sarcasm. 

Her jaw tightened, her fingers curling into her palms.

"But then your husband left. And suddenly, you were all alone with a kid, I'm practically sure, you barely raised. A kid who started acting out, for obvious reasons and you had no idea what to do with him. You were desperate, weren't you? So desperate that you had no choice but to crawl back to us for answers, for solutions—to clean up your mess." You stepped even closer now, your voice lowering into something dangerous. "All of this, everything you've done, has always been about you. About what you need. About what benefits you."

Silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating. Her face was frozen, the mask cracking at the edges. You could see it—the realization that she had lost, that you saw right through her. But even now, she wouldn't admit it. She never would.

You exhaled slowly, stepping back with a small, satisfied smirk. "So I'm going to help Haru. Because I want to. Because he deserves it." you said, voice calm but firm. " And you?" You pointed a finger at her. "You have until tonight to tell him about us. Or else, I will."

Her eyes widened, her body going rigid. "I can't do that! He'll be upset—"

"I don't care if he's upset. I don't care if he's furious with you. In fact? I hope he is. I hope he never forgives you for lying to him all these years because I sure never will." You turned, heading towards the door where your grandpa stood watching, his face pale with unease.

But then, the dam broke.

"God, I wish I'd gotten that fucking abortion all those years ago! I wish I'd never had you!" she screamed, her voice raw, feral, shaking with rage. "Then I wouldn't be in this fucking mess!"

The words hit like a bullet to the chest, sharp and searing, but you refused to react. You kept walking.

"This is all your fault, Y/N! You ruined my life, you hear me?!" Her voice cracked as it rose, hysteria leaking through the edges. "You ruined everything! If you had never existed, I would have had the life I was supposed to have! Do you even understand what you stole from me?! I was young! I had dreams! And then you came along and destroyed everything!"

Your grip on your grandpa's hand tightened, your nails digging into your own skin.

"You are the worst thing that ever happened to me! You and your goddamn grandfather ruined my life! If I never saw either of you again, it would be too soon!"

The sound of shattering glass followed—maybe a cup thrown against the wall, maybe a plate smashed onto the floor. You didn't care. You didn't look back.

Your mother's screams continued as you reached the door, her voice growing more unhinged with each passing second. "You think Haru will love you?! You think he'll choose you over me?! You're NOTHING to him! You hear me?! NOTHING!"

You stepped outside, closing the door behind you. The screams were muffled now, but inside, you could still hear objects being thrown, still hear her voice breaking apart in fury.

Your grandpa turned to you, his face stricken, his eyes glistening with tears. "Where did your grandmother and I go wrong with her?" he whispered, his voice trembling.

Your chest ached at the sight of him like this, but you immediately pulled him into your arms, holding him close. "Nowhere, Grandpa. Nowhere." You closed your eyes for a moment, letting him tremble in your embrace. "You did everything right with her, just like you did everything right with me."

He sniffled, pulling back slightly, and you wiped the stray tears from his face. "But sometimes, even when we try our best, things still go wrong. And when they do, it's not our fault. My mother is who she is because of her own choices, not yours. So please, don't blame yourself. You have nothing to blame yourself for."

A small, weak smile formed on his lips as he wiped at his own face. "I think I need a drink."

You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head. "You know what? I think I do too."

Without another glance back, you got into the car, driving away from that house, from the broken woman inside it, from the past she had tried so desperately to keep hidden. And as you pulled up to the nearest bar, you made a silent promise to yourself.

You would never be anything like her.

***

Chapter 20: A Deal With The Devil

Chapter Text

The bar was dimly lit, the soft hum of conversation blending with the occasional clink of glasses meeting the counter. The smell of old wood, alcohol, and a faint trace of cigarette smoke hung in the air, making it feel both familiar and heavy.

Your grandfather set his glass down on the bar with a soft clink, the sound barely audible over the low hum of conversation and the occasional clatter of dishes in the establishment. It wasn't the first drink of the night, nor the second, and at this point, you'd lost count of how many times he had wordlessly lifted his empty glass, asking the bartender to pour another. The amber liquid swirled as he absentmindedly rotated the glass between his wrinkled fingers, his eyes distant yet heavy with unspoken thoughts.

You had been sitting here for hours now, just talking and drinking—though the latter was mostly on his end. You, despite every fiber of your being craving the sweet oblivion that alcohol could provide, had chosen to stay mostly sober. After all, you were still suffering from the consequences of last night's drinking, your body barely recovered from the throbbing headache and lingering nausea that had accompanied you through the day. You didn't need another hangover weighing you down, not when you still had to drive back to Tokyo. One of you had to be responsible. And besides, he needed this more than you did.

Seeing his daughter for the first time in decades—only to be met with the absolute disaster that was her—must have been a gut-wrenching experience. A brutal slap of reality that no amount of time could have prepared him for. He deserved to drown in whatever comfort the liquor could offer, even if it was fleeting. You had already had your turn at self-destruction. That numbing warmth, the fleeting relief of drunken daze—it had been your escape last night. And yet, as much as you had sworn to hold back tonight, a part of you wanted to do it all over again.

After everything that had happened, after every cruel word she had hurled at you, the temptation to drink until you felt nothing was almost unbearable. Her voice still echoed in your head, sharp as knives, cutting through every wall you had built to keep yourself unaffected.

"God, I wished I'd gotten that fucking abortion all those years ago! I wish I'd never had you, then I wouldn't be in this fucking mess!"

Your grip tightened around your glass. The ice clinked softly against the sides as you stared at the clear water inside. No matter how much you tried to push it away, her words sat heavy in your chest, like a weight pressing down on your lungs, making it just a little bit harder to breathe.

"So, you really met Haru, huh?" Your grandpa's voice finally broke through the haze of your thoughts, pulling you back to the present. His words were slightly slurred, the alcohol loosening his tongue, but his gaze was sharp as he watched you.

You exhaled, watching the ice swirl in your untouched drink. "Yeah, I did."

Your grandfather raised an eyebrow, lifting his empty glass halfway to his lips before realizing there was nothing left. "How? Did you search for him? How'd you know what he looks like?"

You shook your head, a small chuckle escaping your lips. "Like I said, it was a complete accident." Your fingers danced over the condensation on your glass as memories of earlier that day replayed in your mind—Haruto's determined stance, the way his eyes held a familiar kind of sadness, and that small smile when you had invited him to the match. "I ran into some thugs, and he got me out of it."

Your grandfather turned to the bartender, gesturing for another drink with a drunken sway. Meanwhile, you continued, "We talked," you went on, your voice softening. "And I don't know... it sounds insane but I felt drawn to him somehow, like we could understand each other without even knowing why. Like I could tell him anything and he'd just—get it." You smiled faintly, shaking your head. "And when he told me about his passion for volleyball, for Nekoma, I even invited him to come see a match. You should've seen his face light up."

You paused, replaying the moment in your mind—the way his eyes had sparkled with excitement, the way his whole posture had shifted like something inside him had been reignited. "It warmed my heart," you admitted, your fingers curling slightly on the counter. "He was filling something I didn't know could be filled." 

Your grandfather watched you closely, his expression unreadable. When you turned to meet his gaze, you found something deep in his eyes—something that mirrored what you were feeling. Understanding.

"I didn't know why I was feeling this way," you continued, your voice quieter now. "Not at first. But when I found out who he was, it all made sense. He was filling the hole mom left in my heart."

Silence stretched between the two of you for a moment, heavy but not uncomfortable. Then, you turned fully to face him, your jaw set with quiet determination. "I want to take care of Haru. I want to help him, bring back his passion with everything I have," You swallowed, holding his gaze. "He's our family, Grandpa. The only real family we have left. And now that we've found each other, we have to stick together."

Your grandfather's expression softened, his eyes glistening slightly as he reached out and placed a warm, calloused hand on your shoulder. "You're right, my little kitten," he murmured, squeezing gently. "We take care of each other. And now, that includes Haru." His smile was faint, but it carried a lifetime of love and warmth. "I may not know him yet, but he's still my grandchild. And I know I'll love him just as much as I love you."

Your throat tightened, and you covered his hand with yours. "Let's just hope he takes the news well," you muttered, glancing toward the window. The night outside had deepened, the city lights flickering like distant stars. "Mom should have told him by now... at least, I hope."

Your grandfather gave you a reassuring pat. "Don't worry, Y/N. Everything will be fine."

You nodded, but your heart still pounded in your chest. It was impossible not to worry. A thousand thoughts raced through your mind. How would Haru take the news? Would he be happy? Would he be angry? Would he feel betrayed that you didn't tell  him yourself earlier? The uncertainty gnawed at you, making it hard to sit still.

"Um, excuse me,"

A voice cut through your thoughts, making you snap your head up. The bartender stood in front of you, holding out your phone you'd asked to charge ealier. "Someone's calling you."

Your brows furrowed as you took it. The number was unrecognized, but something in your gut told you to answer. "Hello?"

At first, all you heard were quiet, shaky breaths—then, suddenly, soft cries. "H-Hello? Y/N?"

Your entire body went rigid. You knew that voice.

"Haru?!" You sat up straight, all previous thoughts vanishing in an instant. "Are you okay? What's going on?!"

You heard sniffling on the other end, his breath unsteady, almost ragged. "I-I'm sorry," he choked out. "I didn't know who else to call... I'm so sorry. I-I didn't want to do it. I-I told them I didn't want to..."

Your blood turned ice cold. "Haru, calm down. What happened?" You struggled to keep your voice steady, but his sobs only intensified.

"Haru," you tried again, your heart hammering. "Where are you?"

"...The convenience store... at the bottom of the hill by Karasuno," he managed between sobs.

"I'm on my way. Don't move." You hung up, pushing off your seat so fast the barstool nearly tipped over.

Your grandfather looked at you, concern laced in his features. "Y/N? What's wrong?"

"I have to go. Stay here." You reached for your jacket, but as you turned, your eyes landed on the drink the bartender had just placed in front of your grandfather. Without a second thought, you snatched it up, downing the entire thing in one go.

Your grandfather blinked. "Hey—"

You wiped your mouth and set the glass down with a sharp clink. "I think you've had enough for tonight."

With that, you turned and bolted out of the bar, leaving the heavy air, the warmth of conversation, and the distant sound of ice clinking against glass behind you. You ran. Fast. Your legs burned, your breath came in sharp gasps, and your heartbeat pounded in your ears like a war drum. But none of it mattered. None of it even registered. The only thing on your mind was Haru.

His voice, so small, so broken over the phone, replayed in your head on an endless loop.

What the hell had happened? What had he done? Why had he called you? The questions crashed into each other like an oncoming storm, but none of them mattered more than the single thought that screamed louder than the rest: Please let him be okay.

The neon glow of the convenience store sign flickered in the distance, and you pushed harder, faster. Your lungs burned, your legs threatened to give out beneath you, but you didn't stop. You couldn't stop. And then, finally, you were there.

Through the glass, you saw him. Haru.

He was sitting on the ground, curled in on himself, his small shoulders shaking as sobs wracked his body. His hands were clenched into fists against his bent knees, his face buried in them, his whole body trembling. It was a sight that made your chest tighten painfully, like something was squeezing your ribcage from the inside.

You didn't even hesitate. You shoved the door open so hard it banged against the wall, but you barely registered the sound. You dropped to your knees beside him, your hands hovering just above his shaking shoulders. "Haru!"

At the sound of your voice, his head snapped up, his tear-streaked face twisting with a fresh wave of pain and shame. "I-I'm so sorry..." he choked out between hiccupping sobs.

Your heart shattered. Without thinking, you pulled him into your arms, wrapping him up tightly, protectively. "It's okay," you whispered, your breath still coming fast, "it's okay. I'm here."

His fingers clutched at your shirt like a lifeline, his whole body trembling against yours as he buried his face into your shoulder. You felt the damp warmth of his tears seeping through the fabric, and it only made you hold him tighter.

Then, as you lifted your head, you saw it.

Three display shelves were toppled over like fallen dominos, their contents strewn across the floor in a chaotic mess of shattered glass, crushed packaging, and spilled goods. Drinks seeped into the tiled floor, mixing with broken snacks and trampled items. Your stomach dropped.

What the hell happened here?

Before you could even process it, a voice—one that was all too familiar—rang out, sharp with disbelief.

"Y/N?!"

Your blood turned to ice. Your entire body stiffened.

Oh, fuck.

Slowly, you turned your head, already knowing what—or rather, who—you were going to see.

Ukai Keishin stood behind the counter, his phone clutched in one hand, his eyes wide as he stared at you like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. His brow furrowed, confusion and irritation mixing on his face as he gestured toward you. "What the hell are you doing here?!"

Your mouth opened, but no words came out. Haru clung to you tighter, his fingers fisting the back of your shirt. The weight of everything—Haru's crying, the wrecked store, Ukai's baffled expression—was overwhelming.

"I-I..." You tried, but Ukai wasn't looking at you anymore. His sharp eyes flickered down to Haru, and his confusion only deepened.

"And why are you hugging that thief?" His voice was edged with confusion, his gaze narrowing.

Thief?

The word crashed through your brain, leaving behind nothing but static. Haru? Stealing?

Your lips parted, trying to form a coherent response, but your mind was too blank to find one. Instead, the words that left your mouth were the only thing you could think to say. "What happened here?"

Ukai exhaled sharply, rubbing his forehead. "The kid you're holding tried to rob the store with some other brats. One of them knocked over a shelf, which took down the others, and now I've got a goddamn disaster on my hands. The rest of them ran, but I caught this one before he could bolt." He pointed at Haru, then dragged his exhausted gaze back to you. "But seriously, what are you doing here, hugging that guy?"

You could see it on his face—the growing irritation, the sheer exhaustion. It had been a long night for him, and now, on top of dealing with a wrecked store and an attempted robbery, he had to deal with you.

He let out a slow, deep sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Look, Y/N, I'm really not in the mood to fight with you right now. I need to clean this up, and apparently, this kid's sister is supposed to be on her way to sort this out. So, if you're just here to get on my nerves, can we do this another day? Because, honestly, I'm about five seconds away from losing my mind."

He folded his arms, watching you expectantly, waiting for you to move out of the way.

And suddenly, it hit you. He had no idea. It didn't even occur to him that you were the sister in question.

And how could it? Until yesterday, you hadn't even known you had a brother. How were you supposed to explain that to Ukai, of all people? How were you supposed to tell him that the same kid who had just attempted to rob his store was your brother?

You tried to form the words, tried to string together a sentence that made even an ounce of sense, but before you could, Haru suddenly lifted his head from your shoulder. His voice was shaky but loud enough to make both you and Ukai freeze.

"It's her!" he blurted out, his breath still uneven. "She's my sister!"

Silence.

Total, absolute, stunned silence.

Ukai's jaw literally dropped, his eyes wide with pure disbelief as he stared between you and Haru like he had just been told the sun had exploded.

You swallowed hard. 

Well. Shit.

Ukai stood frozen in place, his mind visibly scrambling to process what had just been shouted into existence. His mouth hung slightly open, brows furrowing in sheer disbelief as his gaze flickered between you and the trembling boy still clutching onto you for dear life. You watched him with a nervous smile, bracing yourself for the inevitable reaction.

"I'm sorry," He blinked a few times, "WHAT?!" Ukai's voice erupted through the convenience store, his exclamation echoing off the walls. His head jerked back as if the sheer weight of the revelation had physically struck him.

Yeah. Expected reaction. You couldn't blame him for that.

His hands went straight to his temples, rubbing aggressively as he took a deep breath, then pointed at you accusingly. "Y/n, is this true?"

Your gaze flickered down to Haru, whose tear-filled eyes met yours, raw and broken. So, your mother had told him after all. You exhaled sharply, your expression softening as you gently brushed your fingers over Haru's damp cheek in silent reassurance before turning back to Ukai.

"It's true."

Ukai's eyes widened again, his expression shifting through multiple emotions at once—shock, confusion, and something else, something deeper. Then, a sharp, disbelieving laugh bubbled out of him, rough and humorless. "Oh my god, I can't believe this." He shook his head, running a hand through his already messy blond hair as he stepped out from behind the counter, shortening the space between you.

He looked stressed—more than stressed. His face was tense, mouth pressing into a hard line as his gaze burned into yours. The disbelief was quickly morphing into something sharper, something accusatory.

"So that's it, huh?" he scoffed, voice laced with something bitter. "This whole damn time, you had a brother, and you just—what? Decided not to tell me? Was it some kind of secret? Some kind of game?" His voice was rising now, words dripping with hurt more than actual anger. "You knew, and you just... never said a word in what, I'm guessing he was born around the period where we were in middle school, so at least a few years before we stopped talking?"

"W-What? No, I-"

"No, it's fine, it's fine," He shook his head, letting out a short, sharp exhale—something between a scoff and a laugh, though there was nothing humorous about it. His hand lifted in a dismissive wave, but there was tension in the movement, his fingers curled slightly like he wanted to grab onto something, steady himself. "I'll just add it to the list of betrayals."

His words hit like a slap, sharper than you expected, and for a second, you just stared at him. The bitterness in his voice wasn't unfamiliar, but this—this was different. This was hurt, raw and unfiltered, slipping through the cracks of his usually controlled demeanor. And for some reason, that made it worse.

"Keishin, if you would just let me—"

"You know what?" he cut you off again, sharper this time, more final. His shoulders dropped slightly, and he ran a hand down his face, dragging out a long, tired sigh. "Never mind, I don't care. I don't even know why I'm asking," He let his hand fall back to his side, but his eyes stayed locked onto yours, sharp, tired, unreadable. Then, after a brief pause, he added, "We're not friends anymore."

The words settled in your chest like lead, heavy and suffocating. You shouldn't care. You shouldn't let it get to you. But it did. For reasons you didn't want to examine too closely, it did.

"So, if we could just sort out this mess so I can go to bed and forget that this month's entire revenue—probably the next—was blown to hell right in front of me, that'd be great." His voice was flat, drained, like he had nothing left to give to this conversation.

You exhaled slowly, steadying yourself. It was no use arguing with him right now. Fighting fire with fire would only burn you both. You carefully unwrapped Haru's arms from around you and stood up, the stiffness in your legs a sharp reminder of how long you'd been kneeling.

Ukai watched you with crossed arms, his expression unreadable but expectant. "So, will you explain to me how your brother got into this mess in the first place?"

Your shoulders tensed, a wave of something close to shame washing over you. Before you could formulate an answer, Haru spoke up.

"I'm really sorry, sir." His voice was small, hesitant, but there was a steadiness underneath it, a determination that made you glance at him. "I have no excuse for what I've done. I swear, I didn't want to rob you. I just... I tried to say no at first, but they wouldn't listen to me and I—I didn't insist."

His fingers curled into fists at his sides, his gaze dropping to the floor as he swallowed thickly. "I don't know what came over me. I was just so... angry." His voice wavered, and his eyes darted to yours before he pressed on. "I didn't think about the consequences of my actions, and because of my cowardice and stupidity, you're the one suffering for it."

Then, to your shock, he bowed deeply, his small frame trembling. "I didn't steal anything, I swear. I just came with them. But I know that doesn't matter. I'm still responsible for what happened. And I'll accept whatever punishment you decide."

You stared, momentarily speechless. Even Ukai seemed taken aback, his rigid posture softening slightly. Was he really only fourteen? The way he was owning up to his mistakes, without excuses, without trying to deflect blame—it was more than you had seen some grown adults do. More than you did sometimes.

Your heart swelled, an odd mix of pride and sadness washing over you. You turned back to Ukai, whose expression had shifted. His arms were still crossed, but his gaze had softened, just barely. He looked at Haru, then at you, his lips pressing into a thin line.

"Look," you started, lowering your voice slightly. "I'm not exactly sure what happened, but you heard him—it wasn't entirely his fault. The kids he was with, they pressured him into this. They're the real problem here."

Ukai didn't say anything, just watched you, waiting.

"I know it doesn't excuse everything but Haru's going through a rough patch right now, and you know how it is," you continued, stepping slightly closer. "You know how easy it is to fall in with the wrong crowd when you're young, how easy it is to get lost." You stole a glance at Haru, who was still staring at the ground, his shoulders tense. "But he's a good kid, I know it. And yeah, he messed up—big time. But he regrets it and he wants to make it right."

You hesitated before pushing forward, your voice softer now. "And I know I'm asking a lot, but—try to cut him some slack. I'll pay you back, okay? Every single yen."

Ukai's eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by the sheer sincerity in your voice. He studied you, and for a brief moment, there was something unreadable in his expression. But then, his jaw tightened again.

"Keep your money." His tone was firm, final.

You blinked. "What?"

"I don't want your charity. I don't need your help." He turned away from you, heading toward the shelves, already starting to clean up.

You frowned, confused. "W-What? It's not charity. The kids destroyed your store—Haru was part of it. You only caught my brother, and you said you wanted to be repaid, right?"

"Well, yeah, but—"

"I'm Haru's sister, which means I take responsibility for him. Any parent would pay for the damage their kid caused. That's all this is. Me doing what I should."

Ukai stared at you for a moment, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. Then, he shook his head, muttering under his breath as he bent down to strat cleaning up the mess. "I—I... still. Say whatever you want. I don't want your money."

You gaped at him. What the hell was his problem?!

You clenched your jaw, frustration bubbling in your chest. "What do you want, then?! A second ago you were begging to be repaid and now you're refusing my money? Are you seriously going to call the cops on Haru just because you hate me?" Your voice rose slightly, and you took a step toward him. "Come on, Keishin, fucking grow up already!"

His eyes flashed, and before you could brace yourself, he turned to you, seething. "Me?! Grow up?! I—I... Are you being fucking serious right now?!" His voice was sharp, cutting through the tension in the air like a knife.

You crossed your arms, refusing to back down as he scoffed, running a frustrated hand through his hair.

"God, I cannot deal with you right now!" Ukai's voice cracked with frustration, his hands gripping his head as if physically holding himself back. His face was a mix of exhaustion and exasperation, eyes burning with barely restrained anger. "I am trying so fucking hard to not completely lose it right now, and you're making it extremely hard! I'm saying I don't want your money, and the first thing that comes to your mind is that I want to call the cops on your brother for some kind of revenge?" He scoffed, shaking his head, his voice turning sharp and biting. "You're the one who needs to fucking grow up, Y/N!"

Your arms folded tightly across your chest, nails digging into the fabric of your sleeves as you let out a disbelieving huff. "Oh yeah? You sure about that?" Your voice carried an edge, your irritation bubbling over. "Because you were the one going on and on about how you wanted to be repaid, but the second you found out it was me who'd be paying you back, you suddenly refused. If that isn't the most immature behavior I've ever seen, I don't know what is."

Ukai's jaw clenched, his fingers twitching at his sides as he rolled his eyes, exhaling sharply through his nose like a bull ready to charge. "I just don't want your money!" He shouted again, louder this time, as if yelling would make you understand.

You took a step closer, standing your ground as you shot back, "Then tell me what you want instead of refusing my help because of your stupid pride!"

"No!" His response was immediate, final, stubborn. The refusal echoed between you, thickening the tension in the air.

You raised an eyebrow, an incredulous scoff leaving your lips. "See? You're just as bad as I am." A small smirk tugged at the corner of your mouth despite your frustration, and his eye twitched in irritation.

For a moment, the room was silent except for the distant hum of the refrigerator in the store. Then, as if struck by an idea, Ukai's expression shifted. His lips curled into something almost mischievous, his frustration momentarily replaced with amusement. He turned to you, arms crossing over his chest.

"You know what?" His voice was smooth, calculated, like he was laying a trap. "Fine. There is something you can do to repay me."

You sighed in relief, shoulders sagging slightly. "Thank god, finally. Tell me so we can get this over with."

But instead of answering, he smirked wider, eyes glinting with something dangerous. "Admit that I'm the better coach between the two of us and that my team is superior to yours."

The words hung in the air, and for a second, all you could do was blink at him in sheer disbelief.

"I—I... Are you—? I..." You stammered, searching his face for any sign that he was joking, but he simply stood there, smirking like a cat who had cornered its prey. "Are you being for real right now?" You finally managed, your voice almost breathless from the sheer absurdity of it.

Ukai nodded smugly, his arms still crossed. "Dead serious."

You gritted your teeth, your entire body tensing with frustration. "You know what?" You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. "On second thought, maybe do call the cops. Maybe one of them will see me with you and have the decency to put me out of my misery and shoot me!"

Ukai only shrugged, still thoroughly enjoying himself. "Fine, if that's what you want. I'll call the cops, since apparently that was 'my evil plan' all along—to get my revenge on you." His voice dripped with sarcasm as he turned, already making his way toward the register where the phone sat.

Your stomach twisted. Panic flashed through you as you realized he wasn't bluffing—well, maybe he was, but you couldn't take that risk. Haru's future was on the line. If the cops were called, he would get a permanent mark on his criminal record and you couldn't let that happen.

Before your mind could fully catch up with your actions, your body moved instinctively. Your hand shot out, fingers wrapping firmly his hand. "Wait!" The unexpected contact sent a jolt through both of you—warmth spreading through your fingers, his skin against yours.

Ukai froze.

The room fell silent, the weight of the moment pressing against both of you. Your palm against his skin was warm, solid, grounding. He didn't pull away. Instead, he stood there, unmoving, his breathing slightly uneven.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. "You're the best coach out of us, Keishin," you said, the words heavy, reluctant. It was like pulling teeth, every syllable burning as it left your mouth. "And your team is better than mine."

The confession felt like poison on your tongue, but it was necessary. You clenched your fists at your sides, feeling the sting of your own pride.

Ukai stood there, staring at you as if you had just confessed to a murder. His brows knitted together slightly, his lips parting as if he were about to say something, but no words came. The usual cocky smirk that so often curled his mouth was absent, replaced instead by an expression of pure, dumbfounded disbelief.

Had he misheard you? He almost wanted to ask you to repeat yourself, but the weight of your words was too clear. He hadn't expected you to actually say it. When he had thrown out the challenge, it had been nothing more than a teasing jab, a way to needle at your pride and get a reaction. He had done it to get back at you for your insinuations about calling the cops, for pushing him to his limit when he was already teetering on the edge. But now, hearing you say it so plainly, so reluctantly, caught him completely off guard.

"There. Happy?" you huffed, irritation laced in your tone as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, arms crossed defensively over your chest. Your face was set in a tight expression, eyes narrowed slightly, but he could see the frustration and reluctance lingering behind them. It had cost you something to say that—he knew that much.

Ukai blinked, still stunned, feeling as though reality had briefly tilted on its axis. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, struggling to formulate a response. "I-I... S-Sure..." he finally muttered, the words stumbling awkwardly out of him. He sounded almost uncertain, like he still wasn't convinced this was actually happening.

As soon as you saw that reaction, you exhaled sharply, finally releasing his hand from your grasp. The moment your fingers left his skin, a strange, fleeting warmth dissipated between you two, and you took a step back as if to physically distance yourself from the entire interaction. You turned swiftly on your heel, your head held high despite the sting in your ego, and walked toward your brother.

Haru had been standing there in bewildered silence, watching the argument unfold with wide eyes, his expression a mixture of confusion and concern. His gaze flickered between you and Ukai, clearly unsure of what had just happened. As you approached him, your demeanor softened. The rigidity in your shoulders eased as you reached out, placing a gentle hand on his cheek, brushing your thumb comfortingly along his skin.

"You okay?" you asked quietly, voice laced with a tenderness that had been absent moments ago. Haru blinked at you before nodding slowly, still seeming slightly lost in the aftermath of the tension that had crackled in the air like electricity.

Ukai watched the exchange from a few steps away, his arms now hanging loosely at his sides. He let out a quiet exhale, running a hand through his messy blond hair as realization settled over him like a weighted blanket.

He had been a bit of an asshole.

His jaw tightened, his mind replaying everything that had happened. He'd been on edge, angry, exhausted, and overwhelmed by the events of tonight and your sudden appearance with this newfound brother had only made things worse. But maybe he'd gone a bit too far.

With a firm nod to himself and a heavy sigh, he took slow, deliberate steps toward you. His sneakers scuffed lightly against the floor, the sound just enough to catch your attention before he stopped behind you, hesitating for the briefest of moments.

Haru, noticing his presence first, glanced up at him before looking at you.

Without turning, you let out a long sigh. "If you're here to ask me to say some dumb shit again, you can kiss my ass."

The blunt remark almost made him snap back, but he stopped himself, quickly remembering what he had come over to do. For a fleeting second, his first instinct was to fire back with something equally snarky, to argue just a little more, to keep the push-and-pull dynamic going because it was familiar, comfortable. But this time, he forced himself to pause. To think.

Instead, he inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly before saying, "Look, I'm sorry."

Your body stiffened slightly, caught off guard by the unexpected words, and you finally turned to face him. There was no sarcasm in his tone, no teasing smirk on his lips. His face looked tired, his expression sincere in a way that was rare for him.

"Can we just... talk? Privately?" he asked, his gaze flickering briefly toward Haru.

Your eyes met his, studying his face for a long moment, searching for any trace of insincerity. There was none. Despite the lingering frustration simmering inside you, something in his expression gave you pause. Something in his eyes, quiet yet insistent, stirred something in you that you couldn't quite ignore.

After a few beats of silence, you finally sighed. "Fine."

Ukai subtly relaxed at your response, though he didn't say anything else. He just nodded, relieved, and watched as you turned to your brother.

"I'll be right back. Wait outside, okay?" you told Haru gently.

Haru hesitated for a moment before nodding, giving you a small, uncertain look before slowly making his way outside. Once he was gone, you exhaled sharply, bracing yourself, before following Ukai as he led the way behind the blue curtains.

In the dimly lit corridor, Ukai slowed to a stop, his footsteps echoing faintly against the quiet tension between you. He turned back, his golden-hued eyes meeting yours, a mixture of resignation and calm settling over his features. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of your argument still lingering in the air. Then, he sighed softly, raking a hand through his messy blonde hair before finally speaking.

"I'm sorry about earlier," he said, his voice quieter than before.

Two apologies from Ukai in the span of a few minutes? Were you hallucinating? Or had you died and somehow missed it? Maybe one of the shelves had finally toppled over and crushed you beneath its weight. Your thoughts swirled with the absurdity of it all, but his voice pulled you back to reality.

"I was never going to call the cops. I was just... pissed off that you'd even think I would do something like that for petty revenge," he admitted, his brows furrowing slightly. "And I don't want your money because then I'd feel like I owe you and—"

"But you wouldn't owe me anything since I owe you that money!" you interrupted, crossing your arms in frustration.

Ukai exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "No, you don't owe me that money. The dozens of delinquents who stormed in here do. I know your... your brother is a good kid." His voice softened as he spoke, a hint of sadness creeping in. "So, it's fine. I'll manage."

A pang of guilt settled in your chest. He was trying to downplay it, but you could hear it—the strain in his voice, the exhaustion that weighed on him. You sighed, rubbing the back of your neck before forcing yourself to swallow your pride.

"Look, I'm sorry too, okay?" you said, the words tasting foreign on your tongue.

His eyes snapped back to you, surprised. Clearly, he hadn't been expecting that.

"I could've handled the situation better, considering what you'd just been through," you admitted, shifting uncomfortably. "But I still feel like I owe you something because of Haru's actions—"

"You don't—"

"Let me finish," you cut him off, and he immediately fell silent.

Taking a deep breath, you continued. "It's complicated, but Haru is sort of my responsibility now, so I do owe you. And since you won't take my money, how about this—I'll work at your convenience store. Technically for free, until what would've been my salary covers the cost of all the damages."

Ukai's eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by your offer. "I-I... We can't afford an employee right now—"

"Which is why I said for free," you pointed out, rolling your eyes. "You'll have all the profits and advantages of having an extra set of hands here without actually paying me. And once the damage is indirectly repaid, I'm gone. That way, you won't feel like you owe me. Feel me?"

He remained silent, still processing what you were saying, so you sighed and threw in the final nudge. "Plus, think about it—having me here means you get to boss me around however you want, without me talking back. How's that for a deal?"

You extended your hand toward him, watching his expression closely. For a second, he just blinked at you before a slow, amused smirk tugged at his lips. He let out a short chuckle, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"I gotta say, the idea of you actually listening to me without arguing back is... pretty tempting," he mused, eyes twinkling with mischief.

Your own eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Okay, don't overdo it, weirdo. I'm not gonna have sex with you."

Ukai nearly choked on his own breath, face instantly turning red. "What the hell?! Why would I—who the fuck—like I'd even wanna sleep with you?!" he spluttered, utterly horrified.

You burst into laughter at his reaction, shaking your head. "Relax, Blondie," you teased. "I'm just messing with you. We still hate each other, this temporary arrangement won't change a thing."

His lips pressed into a thin line, grumbling under his breath before his gaze flickered back to your outstretched hand. With a sigh, he mumbled something too low for you to hear and finally grasped your hand in his. The warmth of his skin against yours sent an unexpected shiver up your spine, but you quickly pushed the feeling aside.

"Well, can't say I'm looking forward to working with you, but I'll see you on Monday, Boss," you quipped, already stepping past him.

Ukai stood frozen for a second, caught off guard by the nickname. It sounded strange coming from you. But he... didn't hate it. His smirk returned, but before he could respond, realization struck.

"Hey!" he called out, quickly following after you. "Who the hell is gonna help me clean up this mess?"

You were already halfway to the door when you turned back, an infuriatingly smug grin on your face. "Oh, you know, I would... but according to my legally binding contract, I don't start until next week, sooo..."

Ukai's eye twitched. "We don't have a fucking contract!"

"Sorry, can't hear you! Bye!" you sang, slipping through the door with a triumphant laugh.

Haru, who had been waiting outside, looked up in confusion as you bolted past him. "Run!" you called, and without hesitation, your brother took off alongside you, disappearing into the night.

Ukai stood in the doorway, watching you go, exhaling a long, exasperated breath. But despite himself, a chuckle escaped.

"I swear to god," He shook his head, running a hand through his hair as he muttered to himself. "That woman is going to be the death of me."

***

 

Chapter 21: Family Bond

Chapter Text



The night was still, wrapped in a hushed silence that made every small sound stand out. The faint rustling of leaves in the distance, the rhythmic tap of your shoes against the pavement, the occasional flicker of a dying streetlight—each seemed louder than it should have in the vast emptiness of the night. The air was crisp, carrying a faint scent of distant rain.

You walked side by side with Haru, your brother. The entire situation still echoed in your mind like a bell tolling in the distance, soft but unignorable. The two of you had stopped running a while ago, yet neither of you had spoken since leaving the store. But the silence wasn't necessarely uncomfortable but it was thick, suffocating, pressing against your chest like a weight you couldn't lift. To call the tension awkward would be a grave understatement.

The cat was out of the bag. You knew that much.

He knew you were his sister. But what was his opinion? How was he taking it? You had no idea what was going on in his head, and that terrified you.

Had he truly accepted it?

Even if he had called you for help, did that mean he had fully embraced the idea of having a sister? Was he not angry at all? Was he confused? Did he regret finding out?

These questions gnawed at you, clawing at your insides, and you hated the uncertainty of it all. You were scared—scared that he might be angry, that he might shut you out, that he might not want anything to do with you. And honestly? You wouldn't blame him. This was the kind of revelation that could leave someone shaken, overwhelmed. It was a lot to take in, and you had no idea how he was processing it.

Still, despite the fear, despite the uncertainty, a small glimmer of hope lingered in you.

After all, he had called you his sister. That had to mean something. Right?

The silence stretched on, heavy and thick like fog rolling in before a storm. You felt lost in it, drowning in the weight of everything unsaid. And then—

"Did you know?"

His voice was quiet, almost hesitant, yet it shattered the silence like a stone through glass. The words pulled you from your thoughts, grounding you back into the present moment.

You stopped walking, turning to face him.

Haru stood there, his head tilted downward, his gaze fixed on the ground as if he couldn't bring himself to look at you. His posture was rigid, tense, like he was bracing himself for whatever came next.

"What?" you asked, your voice just as soft, uncertain.

He swallowed, the sound barely audible in the quiet night. "Did you know... that I was your brother when we met?"

The question sent a shiver down your spine, twisting something in your gut.

You hesitated, but only for a second.

Then, slowly, you nodded. "I did..."

The reaction was immediate.

Haru's head snapped up, his eyes wide with shock. The dim glow of the streetlights cast shadows across his face, highlighting the tear tracks still lingering on his cheeks. His breath hitched, and for a long moment, he just stared at you, as if trying to process what you had just admitted.

"W-What?" His voice wavered, barely above a whisper at first before it gained strength, urgency. "You knew this entire time and you just—just let me talk to you like nothing?! I—I... why didn't you tell me?!"

There was something raw in his voice, something that stung like a fresh wound being reopened. It was the sound of betrayal, of hurt, of confusion all tangled together in a single breath. And it made your stomach twist in knots.

You immediately raised your hands, a desperate attempt to calm him down. Gosh, you were so bad at this.

"Wait, hold on! I'm sorry! I didn't express myself correctly—"

Haru's breath came fast and shallow, his expression flickering with hesitation. But he didn't interrupt. He was waiting, watching, his brows furrowed in conflict. You caught the way his fingers twitched slightly, as if he didn't know whether to hold onto his anger or let it slip through his grasp.

A faint wave of relief passed over you. At least he was listening. That was something.

You inhaled deeply, trying to steady yourself before speaking again.

"I think you already know," you started, voice quieter this time, more measured, "but my relationship with our mom is... well, complicated, to say the least."

Haru didn't move, but his posture shifted just enough to tell you he was paying attention. Encouraged, you pressed on.

"She..." You clenched your fists, "she left me when I was eight years old and never looked back. I didn't see or hear from her until... well, until last week." The words left a bitter taste in your mouth, and you barely suppressed a grimace. The memory of it all was still raw, like an old wound reopened before it had fully healed.

You saw Haru's eyes widen slightly, a flicker of surprise in their depths. But he said nothing, so you continued.

"She reached out to Grandpa and me, claiming she suddenly wanted to see me. And when I heard this, I was just... so angry. Angry that she thought she could come back like nothing." The bitterness crept into your voice despite yourself. "I didn't want to see her. I didn't even want to hear her voice. But Grandpa insisted, and eventually, I agreed. I thought... maybe I'd get some kind of explanation, something that would justify what she did."

You paused, inhaling shakily. The cold night air filled your lungs, but it did little to settle the unease curling in your stomach.

"Instead," you continued, voice barely above a whisper, "I was met with everything I feared she would be. Everything I hoped she wouldn't be. And that's when she told me the real reason she reached out."

Your fists clenched at your sides before you forced yourself to release them. Haru was still silent, his gaze locked onto you, his body rigid. He was waiting. He wanted to know.

You swallowed thickly before forcing the words out. "She wanted me to help you."

There. It was out.

A gust of wind rustled the leaves overhead, a lonely sound in the quiet of the night. Haru didn't move, didn't even react for a moment, and that silence was somehow worse than if he had yelled.

"I learned right then and there that I had a brother. That this entire time, I had sibling out there," you continued, your voice tight, "but all I could think about in that moment, was how angry I was at her. Angry at how obvious it was that she didn't care one bit about me." You paused, the pain still present in your heart. "I stormed out of that house, fully ready to never see her again. I didn't want anything to do with her, and because of that... I didn't want anything to do with you either."

This time, you couldn't look at him. You lowered your gaze, shame pressing heavy against your chest.

When you finally risked a glance, Haru's expression had shifted. The hurt was there, unmistakable in the way his lips parted slightly, in the furrow of his brows. It stung, seeing that look on his face, knowing you had placed it there.

"But... that was before I met you," Your voice softened, taking on a different tone, one that carried the weight of something fragile, something true.

Haru's eyes widened slightly.

"When you jumped in front of that guy for me, I really had no idea who you were," you admitted, a ghost of a smile tugging at your lips. "And yet, I just... felt this pull. I didn't understand why, but I wanted to talk to you. And the more I learned about you, the more this strange connection I felt only deepened."

You swallowed, taking a shaky step forward. Haru didn't move away.

"But when you told me your name... that's when I realized who you were. And I lost all my composure. I didn't know how to act, what to do, how to even process it. So... I ran."

The admission felt like peeling back another layer of vulnerability, leaving you completely exposed.

Tears pricked at your eyes, welling up despite your efforts to keep them at bay. "I'm sorry, Haru," you whispered, voice trembling. "I should've told you this morning. I should've been honest. But I couldn't. I was scared." A tear slid down your cheek before you could stop it, warm against the cold night air and you lowered your head. "I understand if you don't want to talk to me or see me anymore."

For a long, breathless moment, Haru just watched you, his own breathing uneven. The weight of your words hung between you, unspoken but loud in the silence.

And then, ever so slightly, his fingers twitched at his sides before he lifted his arm, hesitating just for a moment before placing a hand on your shoulder. Your breath hitched, and your head snapped up, eyes locking onto his. His gaze was soft, yet laced with something deeper—something unreadable.

"I guess we aren't siblings for nothing," he murmured, a quiet, almost wistful smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Your brows knitted together. The words felt off, their weight sinking into your chest before you could fully grasp their meaning. "W-What?" you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper.

A soft chuckle escaped him, but there was no real humor in it—just something hollow, something tired. "You probably already figured it out from what I told you," he admitted, his faint smile fading into something heavier, something sadder. "My relationship with Mom isn’t great either."

The air between you grew thick, the unspoken words pressing in on the space you shared.

"She didn’t abandon me like she did you," he continued, his fingers curling into loose fists at his sides. "Not physically, at least. But she might as well have." His voice was steady, but there was an edge to it, a quiet bitterness restrained just beneath the surface. "She never really took care of me the way a mother should. And Dad... well, he wasn’t much better."

His jaw tightened briefly before he exhaled, the breath slow, controlled. His gaze flickered away, as if looking at you would make the words harder to say. "I had to figure things out on my own pretty quickly."

The silence that followed was heavy. He let it linger before turning away, making his way toward a nearby bench. When he sat, it was with the kind of exhaustion that didn’t come from just today—it was years of it, pressing down on him, making every movement seem just a little heavier.

"Still…" he murmured, his voice softer now, almost fragile. "I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss him."

A group of unshed tears pooled in his eyes, but he blinked quickly, as if refusing to let them fall. He swallowed hard. "When Dad left, I just... I don't know why but I got so angry at everything. At everyone. I stopped paying attention in school. I quit volleyball. I started hanging around with the wrong people..." His voice trailed off, his eyes drifting before finally finding their way back to you. There was no guard up now, no forced bravado. Just quiet vulnerability.

"And before I knew it, I was in too deep with these guys," he admitted. He let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. "Tonight, they wanted to rob that store because the owner apparently ‘disrespected’ one of them when he got caught trying to steal." He lifted his hands, making air quotes as he rolled his eyes at the absurdity of it all.

"I didn’t want to go," he muttered, voice quieter now. "I wasn’t planning on it." His fingers twitched where they rested against his knee, like there was still something unsettled inside him. "But when I got home earlier… Mom told me everything."

Your heart clenched at his words. You slowly sat down beside him, the wood of the bench cool beneath your fingers as you turned to face him. "What did she say?" you asked gently, already guessing where it was going.

Haru hesitated. His fingers twitched in his lap, fidgeting with a loose thread on his sleeve. His lips parted as if to speak, but then he stopped, his jaw tightening. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he exhaled—a slow, measured breath—and spoke, his voice quieter than before.

"She told me that I had an older sister."

The words came carefully, deliberately, like he was testing their weight. His gaze remained forward, never once meeting yours. "A child she had before she married Dad."

You felt your stomach twist, already sensing where this was going.

"She said she never told me about it because when she first tried to reach out to you, you refused to acknowledge me as your brother." A humorless chuckle slipped past his lips, brittle and sharp. "So, she kept it from me. To ‘protect’ me. To ‘spare’ me from getting hurt." The bitterness in his voice was unmistakable.

A quiet stillness settled between you, pressing in on all sides.

Haru swallowed, his throat working around something thick and heavy before he continued. "She said she tried again recently… now that you’re back home. Thought maybe this time you’d be open to having a relationship with me." His voice faltered just slightly, but he forced himself to press on. "But, according to her, you stayed true to yourself. Just like the 'selfish child you always were'."

Something in his tone cracked, subtle but there, a small fracture beneath his carefully held composure.

"She said you refused again. That you never cared about us. That you always chose your career over family, and that’s why you never visited."

Silence.

A deep, seething silence filled the space between you, stretching into an unbearable weight pressing down on your chest. Your fingers curled into fists at your sides as the words settled in, each word fueling your anger.

That lying bitch.

You had expected her to twist the truth, to paint herself as the victim in some way, but this?

Honestly... what the fuck?

You felt the anger simmering beneath your skin, a slow burn that threatened to spill over, but before it could consume you, Haru turned to you, his warm hand settling gently over yours. His touch was hesitant at first, as if testing the waters, but then his fingers curled slightly, grounding you both in the moment.

"Don't worry," he murmured, offering a small, reassuring smile. His voice was quiet, but there was a certainty in it that made your breath hitch. "I know Mom. I know when she lies to me."

Your eyes slightly widened before a surprised chuckle escaped your lips, the tension in your shoulders loosening just a fraction at his words. He knew. He had always known. Yet, the truth didn't make the situation any less painful. Haru let out a soft sigh, his smile fading as he lowered his gaze.

"Still, even though I knew she was lying about the circumstances, the fact remained that I had a sister I never knew about... and it made me angry." He clenched his fists, his shoulders tensing. "Even angrier knowing that she wasn't telling me the whole truth. And so, like you did... I just ran away. I ran straight to those guys, not thinking— not caring about the consequences. I just wanted to escape." His voice wavered, thick with shame, and he swallowed hard before continuing. "When I got caught, I was so scared, and I didn't know who to call. I had no one to call... except you."

His last words were almost whispered, as if he was afraid to admit them. His eyes remained fixed on the ground, avoiding yours, but you could see the vulnerability written all over him.

You inhaled softly, allowing the moment to settle like dust in the quiet air between you. The weight of the conversation pressed down, thick and heavy, but you knew you had to ask the question lingering in your mind.

"How did you know I was your sister?"

At that, Haru let out a quiet, almost bitter chuckle, the sound laced with something unreadable. He shook his head slightly, as if even now, the truth still felt surreal. "Well, it wasn't hard to put two and two together after what Mom told me about you," he admitted, voice low, almost reluctant.

You hummed in response, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. "Right."

"But still," he muttered, running a hand through his hair before glancing at you, "it really was a shock to find out that you, out of all people, were my sister. Like... I still can't wrap my head around it."

You tilted your head slightly. "Why?"

Haru's eyes widened slightly, as if the answer was obvious. "Why? Are you seriously asking me that?" He groaned, running both hands down his face before pointing at you accusingly. "I literally asked you to take a picture with you earlier! Oh god, this is so embarrassing!"

His whine was muffled as he covered his face again, and you couldn't help but chuckle at the sheer distress painted across his features. Just as you were about to tease him further, his voice came again—softer this time.

"I can't believe that I'm related to you."

Something about the way he said it made your breath catch. He turned to you, and for the first time, you saw the raw vulnerability in his expression. "I mean, you made it. You're a professional volleyball player. You went to the Olympics. And now you're coaching at Nekoma with Nekomata, who literally trained the best of the best. A perfect family..."

His voice cracked, his expression crumbling as his fingers dug into the fabric of his jeans. "Meanwhile, what do I do? I rob a goddamn store..."

Tears prickled at the corner of his eyes, but he blinked them back furiously, as if refusing to let himself break in front of you.

"I'm so sorry that you had to see me like that... I'm so sorry for what I did... Compared to you, I'm just a loser, an embarrassment to the family, and I—"

Before he could spiral further, you reached out, placing a firm but gentle hand on his shoulder. "Hey, hey, hey. Don't do that. Don't put yourself down like this."

Haru frowned, his brows furrowing. "But—"

"There's no 'buts,' Haru." You squeezed his shoulder lightly. "You think I'm this perfect person who's never done anything wrong in her life?" You scoffed, a small laugh escaping your lips when he stayed silent. "Aww, you're so cute," you teased, reaching out to playfully pinch his cheek.

Haru groaned, swatting your hand away, but you caught the faintest hint of a smile ghosting over his lips.

"Haru, I have more flaws than I can count, and I've done plenty of stupid things when I was younger too. You're not some disappointment just because you made a mistake. This is just one part of your story, and it doesn't define you." You tilted your head slightly, locking eyes with him. "And you could never be an embarrassment to this family."

A mischievous glint flashed in your eyes before you leaned in slightly, lowering your voice into a conspiratorial whisper. "Especially when Mom is right there."

Haru's eyes widened for half a second before he snorted, the sound quickly turning into a full-blown laugh. You couldn't help but join in, your laughter blending into his, echoing in the night air.

As the laughter died down, a comfortable silence settled between you. Then, with a softer tone, you spoke again. "What I mean to say is... don't compare yourself to me when you've barely started your life. We all make mistakes, Haru. What matters is what you do from here." You spoke softly, but firmly, making sure he heard every word. "And seeing how you owned up to them in that store? Wow, I was so proud of you. Even I still struggle with this sometimes."

His head snapped up, his brows knitting together in confusion. "Proud of me?"

You grinned, reaching up to ruffle his already messy hair. "Yeah, proud of you. But don't do that again, okay? Because now, thanks to you, I have to work for that annoying guy for who knows how long to make up for it."

Haru's eyes widened in horror. "What?! No! I should be the one working! I should be the one—"

You huffed and playfully smacked his shoulder, cutting off his protest. "Shut up,"

He blinked, rubbing at the spot where you'd hit him, but you could see the ghost of a smile forming at the edges of his lips.

"If I remember correctly, you've been slacking off at school and thus, need to get those grades up. You can't work after school," you reminded him with a pointed look.

"But—"

You smacked his shoulder again, a little softer this time. "No buts. Besides, that's what sisters are for, right?" You turned to him with a playful grin, your expression wild and teasing.

His lips parted slightly, his eyes flickering with emotion, and for a moment, you swore you saw them glisten. But he turned his head away quickly, rubbing at his nose. "I... I guess..."

"Alright then," Your smile softened, and with a small sigh, you stood from the bench, stretching your arms above your head. "Now, that it's settled. Let's go."

Haru looked up at you, confused. "Go? Go where?"

You threw him a knowing smile over your shoulder. "To meet Grandpa, of course."

His entire body stiffened. "WHAT?! I CAN'T MEET HIM NOW!" he practically shrieked, his voice echoing slightly in the quiet night air.

You only laughed, waving off his panic. "You'll be fine. Besides, you're going to have to see him on Saturday anyway, so why wait? Besides, I need to get him before he passes out at the bar."

He hesitated, biting his lower lip, his fingers fidgeting anxiously at his sides. "Are you sure he doesn't hate me?" His voice was quieter this time, uncertain.

You turned back to him with the most genuine smile you could muster, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You're his grandson, Haru. He already loves you more than you think."

For a long moment, Haru just stared at you, processing your words. Then, as if the weight had finally begun to lift, he let out a slow breath, a small, tentative smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"Can I really still come on Saturday too?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You chuckled, giving his shoulder a light squeeze. "Now more than ever."

With that, you started walking, and after a beat, Haru followed, this time right by your side.

***

Chapter 22: Arguing and More Arguing

Chapter Text


You stood at the front of the bus, hands on your hips, a wide grin spreading across your face as you took in the eager expressions of your team. The energy was infectious, a buzz of excitement filling the air as you raised your voice over the chatter.

"Is everyone ready to put Karasuno to shame once again for your favorite coach?" you shouted, your voice carrying through the confined space with undeniable enthusiasm.

A resounding chorus of cheers erupted in response, the entire Nekoma team pumping their fists in the air, their competitive spirit ignited. Laughter bubbled up in your chest, but before you could revel in the moment, a familiar throat-clearing sounded from beside you.

"Favorite coach? I thought I was the favorite," Nekomata muttered, arms crossed over his chest, a single brow raised in playful challenge.

You smirked, throwing a casual arm around your grandfather's shoulders, pulling him in close. "Come on, Grandpa. You heard them. The truth comes out of children's mouths after all. Face it, I'm the favorite now."

A hum of consideration left Nekomata as he turned his sharp gaze back to the boys. "Is that so?" he mused, letting his words hang in the air. The team, oblivious to the impending doom, eagerly nodded in agreement.

A slow smirk crept onto his lips. "I see," He closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling thoughtfully before snapping them open once more. "Maybe twenty laps around the gym will refresh your memories."

The bus instantly erupted into chaos.

"What?!"

"Coach, come on!"

"We didn't mean it like that!"

The once enthusiastic team was now scrambling to plead their case, faces contorted in dismay, hands reaching out in mock desperation. But Nekomata merely chuckled darkly, clearly enjoying their suffering. You watched, amused, as their protests gradually turned into reluctant acceptance, groans filling the air as they prepared themselves for their impending doom.

With a light laugh, you followed them off the bus, stepping onto the pavement with an easy stride. "You are so evil, Grandpa," you mused, watching the boys hang their heads in exaggerated despair.

"Well, you set them up for failure, so who's to say which one of us is the most evil?" he countered, his smirk matching yours.

You shrugged, the corners of your lips curling. "I guess we aren't related for nothing, huh?"

His hand landed gently on your shoulder as you both started toward the gym. "Tell me about it."

As you approached, your eyes scanned the area, taking in the familiar sight of old rivals turned friends. Karasuno and Nekoma boys were already mingling, their voices overlapping in friendly chatter. Some were catching up, others were already sizing each other up for the upcoming matches.

Your gaze flickered to the side, where Taketora and Tanaka were in a heated debate—something about who was stronger, who was cooler—yet, at the same time, they were gripping each other in a brotherly hug, clearly thrilled to see one another again. On the other side, Hinata was bouncing excitedly around Kenma, bombarding him with rapid-fire questions. Though Kenma responded quietly, his posture wasn't tense, and you could tell he didn't mind the company one bit.

Then, something else caught your attention. A shadow lingering near the infrastructure of the gym. A figure pressed against the wall, his head peeking out just slightly, watching the scene unfold before him.

A knowing smile played on your lips as you stepped away from your grandfather, weaving through the bodies toward the hidden silhouette. He was so focused on observing the others that he hadn't even noticed you standing right in front of him.

You tilted your head, arms crossed. "Are you planning to stay here, watching like a creep all day, or are you actually going to come with me and witness some high-level matches, Haru?"

Haru jolted, his whole body tensing in shock. "Shit—! I didn't see you! Don't scare me like that, Y/N!" he whined, tugging at the fabric of your shirt as if to emphasize his distress.

You chuckled, shaking your head. It was almost funny—how someone as tall and imposing as Haru could be so incredibly tiny and cute at the same time. A gentle giant, through and through.

"Hey, no swearing. You're only fourteen. You shouldn't swear," you chided, wagging a finger at him.

Haru raised an unimpressed brow. "You're gonna tell me you didn't swear when you were fourteen?"

You grinned unapologetically. "Do as I say, not as I do."

He rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed.

"Now, come on! We have a lot of matches ahead of us and I don't want you to miss a thing!" You grabbed his wrist, gently but firmly pulling him out of his hiding spot. Haru followed hesitantly, his steps a little slower, his posture a little more withdrawn. He walked slightly behind you, his shoulders hunched, as if trying to make himself smaller.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, your grip on his wrist tightening slightly in reassurance. "Haru, stand proud. No one's going to eat you."

His golden eyes flickered toward yours, uncertainty lingering in their depths. But at your soft, encouraging smile, he inhaled deeply and straightened his posture.

Good. That was better.

With Haru walking beside you, you stepped into the gym, where the sounds of sneakers squeaking against the polished floor, balls being tossed and spiked, and laughter echoed all around you.

Nekomata appeared from behind, seamlessly sliding into the space between you and Haru, his presence as steady and comforting as ever. With a warm smile, he placed a hand on each of your backs, a silent but firm gesture of support. "Glad to see you could make it, Haru," he said, his voice carrying the same gentleness it always had, the kind that made people feel instantly at ease.

Haru, however, stiffened at the attention, his face flushing a shade of pink as he ducked his head slightly. "Thank you for letting me come here, Mr. Nekomata," he responded politely, though his voice was just above a murmur.

You and Nekomata both raised an eyebrow simultaneously, exchanging a look before shifting your gazes back to Haru. At your silent scrutiny, Haru immediately tensed, stepping back slightly as if he had done something wrong. "W-What?" he asked hesitantly, his eyes darting between the two of you, confusion evident in his expression.

Nekomata sighed, shaking his head before giving Haru a light tap on the back. "I already told you the other night not to call me that. We're family, okay? Call me Grandpa." His voice was soft but firm, his eyes kind and unwavering.

Haru hesitated for a moment before nodding, still looking slightly overwhelmed. "R-Right... sorry, Grandpa," he muttered, his gaze fixated on the ground, as if the word felt foreign on his tongue.

You chuckled lightly at his awkwardness, but before you could tease him, a loud voice boomed from across the court. 

"Yo! Who's that? He's so tall! Is that a new recruit?!" Taketora's excited shout immediately captured the attention of the entire Nekoma team, who all turned their gazes towards Haru with curiosity and growing excitement.

"Oh! I didn't know more people had signed up! Who is it?" Kuroo chimed in as he started making his way over.

"Why wasn't he with us on the bus if he's a new member?" Kenma mumbled to himself, walking closer, but his question was largely ignored in the commotion as the team focused on the supposed "new recruit."

Haru's eyes widened at the sudden influx of attention. As the members of Nekoma closed in around him, their eager energy almost suffocating, he instinctively took a step back, reaching for the fabric of your shirt and tugging it slightly as if hoping to shield himself from their scrutiny. It was almost comical—this towering boy, easily one of the tallest there, trying to shrink behind you like a child hiding from strangers.

The team continued closing in, murmurs and excited chatter growing, but you quickly held up both hands, signaling for them to stop. "Alright, everyone, hold your horses," you announced, your authoritative tone immediately demanding silence. "Haru is unfortunately not a new member of the team..." you began, drawing a chorus of disappointed groans from the boys, some muttering about how it was a shame considering his height and how he'd make a great addition.

"...Yet," you added with a grin, watching as the team's excitement reignited in an instant. "Haru here is still in middle school in Miyagi, so he might become one of us next year if he decides to join Nekoma. Today, he's just here to observe the matches, so I'm counting on all of you to give me your best performances."

The team erupted into cheers at your words, their enthusiasm unfazed by the technicality of his enrollment status. However, before the excitement could escalate further, another voice cut through.

"But he lives here in Miyagi?"

The voice belonged to Hinata, who had been quietly listening in, his expression puzzled. At his question, the entire Nekoma team turned, now noticing Karasuno gathered behind them as a group, watching the scene unfold.

"He does," you responded simply, watching as Karasuno exchanged glances, whispering among themselves.

"Then it would make more sense for him to join us!" Tanaka suddenly shouted, his competitive spirit immediately sparking tension.

Kuroo, never one to back down from a challenge, turned sharply. "He's here to see us, not you, Karasuno." His voice was laced with amusement, but the underlying competitiveness was clear.

Tanaka narrowed his eyes, unfazed. "And? We'll show him how Karasuno plays today. Then, he'll have no choice but to want to join us instead of you, city boys."

The challenge in his tone was enough to make the tension thicken, and soon enough, both teams began arguing over who would make the better impression.

"Oi, he's not going to join us, idiots."

Ukai's voice cut through the chaos, and immediately, both teams quieted, their gazes shifting towards their coach, who stood with his arms crossed, his expression unimpressed.

A wave of confusion passed through the students, questions forming before Ukai could even open his mouth to explain. But before he could, you spoke first.

"That's true," you said, crossing your arms with a playful smirk. "I can't have Haru join Karasuno when we're sworn rivals. It would put our family to shame."

There was a pause, and then—realization struck.

"Wait... why would it put your family to shame?" Hinata asked, clearly not catching on as quickly as the others.

Kageyama, sighing in exasperation, did the honors of smacking Hinata upside the head. "He's obviously related to her, dumbass!"

You laughed, shaking your head as you glanced at your brother, who still stood frozen in place, unsure of what to do with the overwhelming attention. "Kageyama's right. Haru, here, is my brother. And I want all of you to give him a proper welcome."

The moment you stepped aside, fully revealing Haru, both teams—Nekoma and Karasuno alike—surged forward with renewed energy. Excited voices overlapped as they bombarded him with questions, praises, and curious remarks. Haru looked slightly dazed, caught between awe and sheer terror at the amount of attention he was receiving.

You stepped back, letting him soak it all in, and moved to stand beside Nekomata, who was watching the scene unfold with a soft smile.

"I think he'll fit right in," he murmured, his tone carrying the warmth of a grandfather watching his family grow.

You nodded, a small smile pulling at your lips as you watched your brother hesitantly begin responding to the flood of questions.

"Yeah," you whispered, "I think so too."

The gym buzzed with anticipation as the practice match between Karasuno and Nekoma was about to begin. The air was thick with the smell of polished wood, the echo of sneakers squeaking across the floor, and the low hum of players warming up. Takeda, ever the enthusiastic supporter, turned towards you with an excited gleam in his eye.

"That's amazing. I didn't know you had a brother, L/N!" he said, his bright smile filled with genuine curiosity.

You turned to face him, a small chuckle escaping your lips. "Yeah, haha..." you responded, rubbing the back of your neck. "Me neither," you whispered.

"What?" Takeda asked but you held out your hands.

"Nothing, nothing," You nervously laughed but then, with a soft smile, you added, "Oh, and just call me Y/N, please."

A hint of pink dusted Takeda's cheeks at your request. "O-Oh! Right... Y/N it is. But then, please, call me Ittetsu," he stammered, his voice laced with nervous energy.

You tilted your head, considering the name for a moment before nodding in approval. "Ittetsu... I like that name."

His eyes widened slightly, and his shoulders tensed. "Y-You do??" he asked, his voice rising an octave.

"Yeah! It means 'tough,' right?" you said with a grin. "And you certainly are tough with how you fought to make sure Karasuno's team could train with Nekoma." You reached out, giving his shoulder a firm yet warm pat. "I think it fits you perfectly."

Takeda's face turned a deeper shade of red, his mouth opening as if to respond, but before he could, Ukai abruptly stepped in between the two of you, effectively cutting off the conversation.

"Alright, enough chit-chat, you two." He said as he pushed Takeda and you away from each other. "We have matches to play, and I've got scores to settle," Ukai said with a smirk, his sharp gaze landing on you.

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you leaned slightly back. "Oh yeah? Are you that confident your team is going to win this time?"

Ukai shook his head. "Oh, they'll definitely give Nekoma a hard time." His tone was laced with determination as he took a step closer. "They're getting better and better by the day, Y/N. And I can't wait to see your face when they eventually beat your team."

He leaned in ever so slightly, just enough to invade your space. But you stood your ground, unfazed, tilting your head as a smirk curled on your lips. "Which will prove how much of a better coach I am," he added before finally leaning back.

"Talk all you want, Blondie. And talk big because the more you do it, the more satisfaction I'll get when I inevitably watch you lose." Your voice was dripping with amusement, but your eyes held an unspoken challenge.

Ukai's gaze didn't falter.

"Oi, can we start already?" Nekomata's voice rang out from the other side of the court, cutting through the tension.

You turned slightly, calling back, "In a second!" before facing Ukai again.

"May the best coach win, then," you said, extending your hand.

Ukai raised an eyebrow at the gesture, his lips quirking up in mild amusement.

"What's the matter? Haven't felt the touch of a woman in a long time, Keishin?" you teased, your smirk widening.

He exhaled sharply through his nose before replying, "No, just trying to decide whether shaking hands with you is the first step towards a deadly disease or a curse."

"Why don't you try and find out then?"

His smirk mirrored yours as he finally took your hand, giving it a firm shake. You laughed lightly at the quip before both of you turned on your heels, heading to your respective sides of the court.

The whistle rang out, signaling the start of the match.

The game started with a fast pace, Karasuno showing significant improvement since their last practice match. They moved with more coordination, their attacks sharper, their defense stronger. Hinata's jumps were even higher, and Kageyama's sets were near perfect. But Nekoma, ever the masters of defense and strategy, weren't going to let them take the lead so easily.

Every time Nekoma scored, you would flash a triumphant grin and throw a mocking thumbs-up in Ukai's direction. And every time Karasuno managed to score against Nekoma, Ukai would smirk, crossing his arms and nodding slowly like he had personally orchestrated the entire thing. However, the more you provoked each other, the more rialed up you were getting about this match. Now, even if this was a practice match, you sure as hell didn't want to lose.

However, neither of you could really celebrate long as the score remained impossibly close with Karasuno managing to keep up but never quite surpassing their rival. Sweat dripped down all the players faces as they fought for each point, determination burning in their eyes.

 But as the score remained tight, so did the victory and as the end of the second set came, everyone was on edge. If Nekoma scored the next point, they would win but if Karasuno scored, they would have to play a third set. You were gripping at the edge of your seat as the final score played, and everyone was fighting for it. 

The rally was intense, the ball flying back and forth, players diving, blocking, and spiking with everything they had. Kageyama set the ball perfectly, Hinata leaped into the air and—

smack echoed through the gym. The ball hit the floor at the edge of the line, but was it inside or out of bound? Everyone was waiting for the referee's decision but even he seemed to not be sure.

"That was in! That's our point!" Ukai immediately called out, stepping forward. 

"The hell it was! That was out, and you know it!" You shot back, mirroring his stance. 

"Are you blind?! The ball didn't even touch the line! That means it's in!" He argued, pointing at the floor.

 "It was out! It clearly went over the line." You countered, throwing your hands up in frustration.

"No it didn't. You're just being biased!" He said but you scoffed.

"Biased?! Oh, please. I call it as I see it, unlike some people who are just desperate to win for once!" You crossed your arms, challenging him with a glare.

"Oh, I'm desperate? That's rich, coming from someone who's trying to steal a point!" Ukai shot back, stepping even closer.

"Who's stealing?! The only thief here is your eyesight!"

The argument escalated, voices rising as both teams watched in amusement and secondhand embarrassment. Even the referees were unsure what to do, exchanging nervous glances.

Finally, Nekomata sighed, rubbing his temples. "For god's sake, just replay the damn point!"

You and Ukai whipped your heads toward him before reluctantly stepping back.

"Fine," you muttered, arms still crossed.

"Fine," Ukai echoed, shooting you one last look before turning back to the game.

And just like that, the match resumed, the competition between Karasuno and Nekoma overshadowed only by the battle of egos between two equally stubborn coaches.

You sank down onto the bench with a heavy sigh, shoulders slumping as you settled between your somewhat annoyed grandfather and your little brother, who still looked as if he had seen a ghost. The tension from the argument lingered like an unwelcome guest, but you refused to acknowledge it.

"Why do you two feel the need to argue over every little thing all the time?" your grandfather sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he shook his head. His tired, knowing gaze flickered between you and the court, as if he had seen this scene play out a hundred times before.

You kept your eyes glued to the game in front of you, suddenly feeling a bit childish. Fine. Maybe arguing over this was unnecessary, but in your defense, nobody was perfect—certainly not you two.

You exhaled slowly. "I'm sorry, Grandpa. You're right. I just..." Your voice trailed off, your fingers absentmindedly picking at the hem of your sleeves. "When it comes to him, I just can't help but act like this. I don't know why."

Your words hung in the air for a moment, heavy with unspoken emotions, but your grandfather simply chuckled. The sound was quiet at first, but it grew, soft and rumbling, until it was clear he was outright laughing.

Slowly, you turned your head, narrowing your eyes. "What's so funny?" you asked, unimpressed.

"Nothing, nothing," he replied, but there was a distinct glint in his eye, an infuriatingly knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Your brows furrowed further. "Oh please, Grandpa, do enlighten me," You leaned back, arms crossed, your tone laced with sarcasm.

He simply shrugged, entirely too amused. "I'm not saying anything. I'm just a humble observer, and every day, my theory is proving itself more and more."

Your eyes twitched slightly at the sheer smugness in his tone. "Really? And what theory is that?" you asked with an exaggeratedly sweet smile, already knowing you were not going to like the answer.

"It's a secret," he said, clearly enjoying this far too much.

You groaned, rolling your eyes. "I can't believe this. Can you believe this, Haru?" You turned to your brother for support, only to find him frozen in place, his expression stricken with pure horror.

Your brow furrowed. "What's going on with you?"

Haru didn't say anything at first. Instead, he raised a trembling hand and pointed across the gym. "That's the owner of the store..."

You blinked. "What?"

"The store!" he repeated, voice an octave higher. "The one I— I— Oh my god, I'm dead."

It took you a moment to process what he was saying, and when you finally followed his gaze, you found yourself staring at Ukai standing by the Karasuno bench, arms crossed as he chatted with his team.

"You didn't recognize him until now?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Haru frantically shook his head. "No! I only saw him just now—when you two were arguing! Exactly like you did that night in the store!" His voice trembled with absolute panic.

And from beside you, your grandfather let out another low, knowing chuckle.

You turned to him slowly, irritation sparking once more. "Okay, seriously, why are you laughing?"

Haru, however, was still deep in his own spiral. "What's he doing here? Is he going to punish me for what I did? Oh god, what if he—"

You placed a firm hand on top of his head, effectively cutting off his rambling. "What? No. He's not an evil monster. He's just a coach for Karasuno—aka my sworn rival and eternal enemy. Get over it, weirdo."

Haru didn't look convinced, still clutching his knees as if Ukai himself was about to storm over and drag him to volleyball jail. But then, as if a thought suddenly struck him, he looked up at you with curious eyes. "Wait... is that how you met this guy? This would explain the hatred."

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, your grandfather's laughter grew louder. "Ah! Hatred. That's funny," he mused, stroking his chin as if he had just heard the best joke in the world.

Your jaw clenched. "Yeah, didn't you hear the news I told you, oh I don't know, over a hundred times already? Keishin and I hate each other!" you stated firmly, crossing your arms again.

Your grandfather merely looked at you with that same insufferable grin. "Mmh mmh."

"What does that mean?!"

He just shook his head, eyes twinkling. "Nothing at all."

You groaned in frustration, burying your face in your hands.

Meanwhile, Haru was still spiraling. "Gosh, I can't believe that of all the stores, it had to be this one!"

You scoffed, rubbing your temples. "Yeah, you didn't make my life easier there, buddy."

At that, Haru hesitated, before looking at you with a puzzled expression. "Wait... then how did you manage to get me out of trouble if he hates you?"

You waved a dismissive hand. "Calm down, Haru. He's a dick, but he's not unreasonable. I just struck him a deal and he accepted."

"What kind of deal?" Nekomata asked.

"I have to work for him until the damage is repaid." You responded.

Nekomata, still looking far too entertained by the whole situation, added, "Now that's an interesting answer. And he accepted this deal, just like that?" he asked, amusement flickering in his voice.

You frowned at the odd glint in his eye. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

He merely shrugged. "Nothing, I just personally wouldn't let someone I supposedly hate work for me. I would just take the money for the damage."

Your mouth opened slightly in disbelief as Haru put a hand on his chin, deep in thought. "That's true. Why did he accept then?"

You groaned again, but your grandfather perked up as if he had been waiting for this exact moment. "Well, I'll gladly tell you why! You see, Keishin and her didn't meet recently. Oh no, they were best friends long ago! Best friends since they were toddlers."

You immediately sat up straighter, whipping your head toward him. "Are you seriously going to do the whole story right now?"

Haru, on the other hand, lit up with curiosity. "Really?!They were?"

Your grandfather grinned. "Oh yes!"

You exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of your nose. "He's going to tell the whole thing," you muttered under your breath as your grandfather happily continued.

"Yes, the two of them were inseparable. If one was somewhere, you would automatically find the other," your grandfather continued, his voice laced with nostalgia, completely ignoring your obvious distress. "Our family and his thought they would eventually get married."

A groan of mortification escaped your lips as you dragged your hands down your face. "Oh god," you muttered, eyes squeezing shut, hoping that if you wished hard enough, the ground would just swallow you whole.

Haru, on the other hand, was too engrossed in the unfolding drama to notice your discomfort. He leaned forward, gaze expectant. "What happened?!" he pressed, his voice laced with intrigue.

Your grandfather hummed, his lips curling into a knowing smile as he leaned back against the bench. "Eight years ago, they had a big fight one night, ending in them hating each other and going their separate ways."

Haru's excitement flickered, his expression shifting into something softer, something that resembled sadness. He turned to you, seeking confirmation, but you refused to meet his gaze. Your jaw tightened, and the bittersweet expression that crossed your face was enough of an answer.

"What was the fight about?" Haru tried again, his curiosity unwavering.

Your lips parted, but before you could even form a response, your grandfather cut in once more, his voice carrying a certainty that made your blood run cold. "It doesn't matter because they don't actually hate each other," he mused with a teasing smirk. "They're in love."

Your breath hitched.

"WHAT?!" The word ripped out of you, your body moving on its own as you shot up from the bench, your voice booming across the court.

The reaction was instant. The match that had been playing out in the background came to an abrupt halt, all eyes suddenly on you. The gym fell eerily silent, the sound of sneakers squeaking against the polished floors the only noise left in the air.

A deep crimson blush crawled up your neck as you cleared your throat, shifting awkwardly under the weight of everyone's stares. "Sorry," You coughed. "Please, continue," Your voice was small now, shameful, as you sank back down onto the bench, desperately wishing you could fade into the fabric of your jacket.

The game resumed, but you could feel your grandfather's amused gaze burning into the side of your face. You glared at him, crossing your arms tightly over your chest like a stubborn child. "Don't say stuff like that! It's not true!"

He simply shrugged, his nonchalance only fueling your irritation. "Sure."

The single word made your teeth grind. "I don't like him! And he certainly doesn't like me! So stop with your fantasies!"

Your grandfather only smiled knowingly, and before you could retort, Haru chimed in, rubbing his chin as if he had just unlocked the universe's greatest secret. "It all makes so much sense now."

You turned sharply, eyes narrowing at him in disbelief. "Oh, not you too!"

At that moment, the final whistle echoed through the gym, signaling the end of the match. Nekoma had won, as expected. The tension in your body loosened slightly at the thought of a break, an escape. 

Thank fucking God.

Without wasting a second, you pushed yourself up from the bench and stormed off, your jaw set in annoyance. You needed air. You needed distance from their ridiculous conspiracies.

Your footsteps echoed as you walked briskly to the other side of the court, arms swinging with pent-up frustration. How could your grandfather say such ridiculous things? And worse, how could Haru actually start believing him?!

You exhaled heavily, pacing back and forth as your thoughts circled endlessly in your head. You didn't like Keishin. The very idea was absurd. Ludicrous. Unthinkable. Even if—if—you had liked him once in some long-forgotten past, those feelings were dead and buried. Gone. Ashes in the wind.

You hated him.

You hated him more than anything.

You. hated. him.

You repeated it over and over in your mind.

And yet, your fists clenched at your sides, your heart beating just a little too fast for comfort.

Shaking your head, you pushed the thoughts away, willing yourself to focus on anything else. That was when an unfamiliar voice caught your attention.

Curious, you turned, scanning the gym before your eyes landed on a middle-aged man in a neat suit, standing beside Takeda on the other side of the court. The moment your gaze settled on him, recognition struck.

The principal of Karasuno.

Memories surged forward like a tidal wave—mischievous laughter, whispered schemes, the thrill of never getting caught. You had spent a significant amount of time here once upon a time, and whenever you did, you and Keishin had made it a personal mission to terrorize that poor man with endless pranks.

A slow, wicked grin curled at the corner of your lips as an idea took root in your mind.

If your grandfather and brother wanted to be ridiculous and insist that you had lingering feelings for Keishin, well...

You'd just have to prove them wrong.

With mischief gleaming in your eyes, you turned on your heel and strode toward your so-called enemy.

They'd see soon enough.

***

Chapter 23: The Wig Flew

Chapter Text

The principal had stormed into the gym, his face set in a permanent scowl of disapproval. His sharp gaze darted around, and the way his mouth twisted as he spoke to Takeda made it clear—he wasn't here to offer praise. The man's presence was almost suffocating, like a heavy cloud settling over the gym, draining the warmth from the air. It was no secret that he despised the volleyball club—always had, always would. Even eight years ago, he had tried tirelessly to find excuses to shut the club down, citing everything from budget concerns to noise complaints. 

Unfortunately for him, the sport was too beloved by the students, and his efforts were always dismissed. That, of course, only fueled his resentment, making him the perfect target for the relentless pranks that Keishin and you had orchestrated over the years.

That unrelenting disdain of his, that deep-seated resentment toward the joy this club brought, had always made him the perfect target for pranks. And oh, had you and Keishin indulged in that opportunity. Time and time again, you'd schemed, plotted, and executed some of the most elaborate tricks with one simple goal: to drive this miserable old man insane. It had started as simple retaliation for his relentless vendetta against the club, but somewhere along the way, it became something more. A tradition. A sport of its own. A test of creativity. And out of all the pranks you'd orchestrated, nothing quite compared to the ones centered around his most prized possession—his wig.

You could still remember the first time you saw it shift ever so slightly out of place, exposing a sliver of the barren scalp beneath. It had been a revelation, an opportunity so golden you and Keishin had nearly burst into laughter right then and there. And from that moment on, the game had truly begun. Your absolute favorite? Making him question his own sanity.

Standing on the sidelines now, arms crossed, Keishin's gaze flickered between the principal and Takeda, his lip curling in mild irritation. "God, what does this asshole want now?" he muttered under his breath, voice laced with exasperation.

You stepped up beside him, mirroring his stance, eyes locked onto the principal. "From experience? Nothing good," you replied smoothly, tilting your head slightly as if scrutinizing the man from afar. "I'm honestly surprised he's still here after everything we've put him through. I really thought we had succeeded in making him run away."

Keishin huffed out a short laugh, shaking his head. "I swear, it's gotta be a kink of his or something. He just loves being miserable."

You let out a bark of laughter, quickly covering your mouth. "Keishin, you can't say stuff like that out loud," you calmly scolded, before you leaned in slightly. "With ears that big, he might actually hear you."

That was all it took—Keishin doubled over in laughter, the sound deep and full-bodied, and you couldn't help but join him. It was just like old times, whispering quips to each other and feeding off one another's energy.

"God, look at his wig—" Keishin began, his voice thick with mirth.

"You mean the love of his life?" You corrected, barely containing your laughter.

Keishin clutched his stomach, shaking his head. "It's still the same one from eight years ago! The man is more loyal to that wig than he ever was to his ex-wife."

At that, you completely lost it, doubling over with laughter so intense it sent you slightly off balance. Keishin, ever the steady presence, reached out instinctively, his strong fingers curling around your upper arm to keep you upright. You clung to his forearm for a moment, trying to regain some semblance of composure.

You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself just enough to deliver one final jab. "Honestly," you said between chuckles, wiping at the corner of your eye, "I think I know why his wife never came back."

Keishin smirked, quirking a brow. "Oh? And why's that?"

You grinned, leaning in closer, voice barely above a whisper. "It's because he spent all his time chasing after his hairline that's been running away from him since the late '90s instead of paying attention to her." 

And with that, it was back for another round. Both of you bursted out laughing again, uncontrollably Your stomach cramped from the sheer force of your laughter, your breaths coming in ragged, wheezing gasps. Your head dipped forward, your forehead nearly colliding with his shoulder as you clutched at him, a desperate attempt to steady yourself through the uncontrollable fit of mirth.

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, blurring the already hysterical sight of the principal in the distance, still ranting to Takeda, blissfully unaware of the mockery unfolding just a few feet away. The sheer absurdity of it all only made it funnier.

"Stop—stop, I can't—" you gasped between uncontrollable bursts of laughter, fingers tightening slightly on Keishin's shoulder as you tried to compose yourself.

Keishin was no better. His face was contorted in the kind of laughter that left people breathless, his hand gripping his side as if trying to physically contain the ache of it. "I can't breathe," he wheezed, shaking his head. 

But then, just as you started to recover.

That feeling. That prickling sensation along the back of your neck. The unshakable knowledge that you were being watched.

You turned instinctively, and there he was—your grandfather, standing across the gym, watching the two of you with that same knowing smile. A smile that was somehow both amused and all too perceptive. 

A slight panic shot through you. Instantly, you straightened, your hand snapping away from Keishin's shoulder as if burned. You cleared your throat forcefully, trying to school your expression into something more neutral, something less... incriminating. You were here to prove him wrong, not fuel his fantasies.

Keishin, still slightly breathless, followed your gaze, and the moment he saw your grandfather, he, too, straightened up like a student caught misbehaving. He gave a half-hearted cough, rubbing the back of his neck, though the remnants of laughter still threatened to resurface.

Desperate to shift the conversation and get back on track, you turned back to Keishin, voice carefully casual. "Do you remember the pranks we used to do to him?"

Ukai followed your gaze toward the principal, who was still flailing his arms dramatically at Takeda, his voice growing more animated by the second. "Of course, I do," Keishin said, his tone carrying a distinct fondness despite himself. "How could I forget?"

A slow smirk tugged at the corner of your lips. "Do you remember the haunted wig one?"

Keishin's head snapped toward you instantly, his amusement morphing into deep suspicion. His eyes narrowed. "Where are you going with this?"

You only smiled, a mischievous glint sparking in your gaze. "Keishin, I'd like to cash in my winnings."

For a split second, he looked at you, confused. And then it hit him. The color drained from his face, and his eyes widened in pure, unfiltered horror. "Oh no..."

"Oh yes."

Keishin blinked at you several times as if hoping—praying—that you were joking. When no such relief came, he let out a strained laugh. "You're serious right now?"

You nodded.

His hands flew up in exasperation. "Are you out of your mind?! I can't do that! I'll lose my job if I get caught!" he hissed, stepping closer as if proximity alone could talk you out of your insanity.

You clicked your tongue, wagging a finger in front of his face. "Ah, ah, ah. You can't say no, remember? That was the rule you set for the bet."

"Fuck, I forgot about that," he muttered, tilting his head back to glare at the ceiling in sheer defeat before dragging his gaze back to you. "I hate you so much."

You beamed. "Mmm, I know."

Keishin inhaled deeply through his nose, clearly trying to mentally prepare himself for the ridiculousness of what you were about to ask.

"Alright," he said finally, placing his hands on his hips. "What do you want me to do exactly?"

"Easy," you began, your voice laced with anticipation. "You take his wig—without him noticing, mind you—then sneak into his office, place it neatly on his desk, and come back here like nothing happened." You leaned in slightly, eyes gleaming. "The haunted wig prank, like old times."

Keishin visibly deflated. He turned toward the principal, who was still loudly berating Takeda, completely oblivious to his impending doom.

"If I lose my job," Keishin muttered darkly, "I am so dragging you down with me."

You simply chuckled. "Better not get caught then, Blondie."

He dragged a hand down his face, muttering a string of curses under his breath as he shot one last glare your way before turning towards his target. You folded your arms, watching with amusement.

Oh, this was going to be good.

Ukai moved across the gym with an air of feigned nonchalance, though his clenched jaw and muttered curses betrayed his inner turmoil. His sharp eyes flickered from one corner of the court to another, scanning for any possible advantage, any small detail that could aid him in executing this ridiculous heist. The principal remained rooted to the same spot, still deep in conversation with Takeda. Well, calling it a conversation was generous—Takeda was barely getting a word in as the older man ranted endlessly, his face twisted with disdain. Even from this distance, Ukai could catch snippets of his droning complaints, each syllable dripping with a loathing that was honestly impressive in its persistence.

For a man who had little to do with the volleyball club, he sure as hell hated it with a passion. Ukai scoffed, shaking his head. The principal's complaints were repetitive, predictable, and, most of all, tedious. And Takeda, poor guy, was just standing there, nodding along helplessly. Ukai honestly felt bad for him.

But right now, Ukai had bigger things to worry about. His mission. His punishment for losing that damn bet. He needed a plan, and he needed a good one if he didn't want to get caught red-handed.

That was when his gaze landed on a familiar trio across the court. Hinata, Kageyama, and Tanaka were running drills, the sound of the ball smacking against their palms echoing through the gym as they practiced their spikes. A slow, devilish smirk curled onto Ukai's lips. They were perfect.

Wasting no time, he quickly strode over to them, motioning subtly for them to stop what they were doing and come closer. The three boys exchanged confused glances but obeyed, jogging over to where he stood.

"What's going on, Coach?" Hinata asked, a little too loudly for Ukai's liking.

"Shhh!" Ukai hissed, glancing around to make sure no one had overheard before turning back to them. Kageyama raised a brow, and Tanaka leaned in eagerly.

"Is something wrong?" Kageyama asked in a whisper.

Ukai finished his paranoid glances before leaning in as well, his voice barely above a murmur. "I need you to help me with something incredibly stupid. Are you in?"

While Kageyama looked immediately wary, Tanaka and Hinata's faces lit up with pure glee. Their eyes sparkled with mischief, grins spreading across their faces.

"Hell yeah!" Tanaka whisper-yelled, nodding furiously.

"Wait—hold on!" Kageyama shot them both a glare. "We don't even know what it is yet! It could be dangerous!"

Ukai scoffed, crossing his arms. "Hey—" He paused, reconsidering his words. Okay, yeah, maybe it was dangerous. Just a little bit. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look, do you guys like the principal?"

The three of them immediately shook their heads, their expressions turning grim.

"Good," Ukai continued, his smirk returning. "How would you like to assist me in stealing his wig?"

There was a beat of silence. Then—

"What?" Kageyama deadpanned, blinking at him in sheer disbelief.

Ukai sighed dramatically. "Okay, so you guys remember how I played a match with Y/N last week?"

Hinata tilted his head. "Wait, you mean the bet you made with Coach L/N? The one where she completely wrecked you?"

Ukai shot him a glare. "I wouldn't say 'wrecked.' It was more like a... strategic setback."

The three boys stared at him, unimpressed.

"Whatever," he grumbled, waving a dismissive hand. "The point is, Y/N just cashed in her winnings from the bet, and now I have to steal the principal's wig."

Tanaka and Kageyama's eyes widened in pure horror.

"What does 'cashed in her winnings' mean?" Hinata asked, tilting his head.

"It means I'm an idiot for ever making that stupid bet," Ukai muttered. "Now, will you help me or not?"

The three of them exchanged glances before nodding eagerly.

Ukai smirked. "Good. Here's what you're going to do..."

From across the court, you observed Ukai and his newly assembled team of accomplices with arms crossed and an amused glint in your eyes. There was a thrill in watching it unfold, a familiar rush of anticipation settling in your chest. How was he going to pull it off? You weren't sure, but the curiosity kept you locked in place. 

This was one of the best part. Back then, when the two of you orchestrated your pranks, half the fun came from simply watching the execution—how one of you would somehow pull it off without ever getting caught. It was an unspoken game, a challenge passed between you, a dare that needed to be fulfilled in the most outrageous way possible. Some of the best memories of your life had been made in these exact moments, stifling laughter in the aftermath, doubling over when everything went perfectly—or even better, when it went horribly wrong. However, your favorite part had always been the reaction of the target to the pranks.

A small smile crept onto your lips as those memories resurfaced, but you shook them away as you focused on the scene ahead. The group had separated now, each taking their respective positions. Ukai began moving towards the principal and Takeda with a casual stride, arms hanging loosely at his sides. Meanwhile, Kageyama, Tanaka, and Hinata resumed their training positions, but this time, they had flipped their formation. They now faced the principal directly.

Your eyes widened as realization struck. You knew exactly where this was going.

A quiet chuckle escaped you as you quickly moved across the gym, heading toward the other side where the door was. If Ukai was going to succeed, he needed an escape route, and you were going to make sure it was wide open for him. It wasn't helping him, exactly—it was just making the path clearer. That was all.

Leaning against the doorframe to hold the door in place, you focused on the unfolding scene, heart drumming against your ribcage in anticipation.

Ukai had positioned himself a few feet behind the principal, just enough distance to avoid suspicion but close enough to act the second his window opened. With a discreet nod, he signaled Tanaka, who immediately tossed a volleyball towards Kageyama.

Smooth as ever, Kageyama set the ball high into the air, eyes locked onto Hinata. The orange-haired whirlwind was already in motion, sprinting toward the perfect position. His feet left the ground in a gravity-defying leap, his body twisting with trained precision. Then, with a forceful strike, he sent the ball flying.

The principal, still deep in his long-winded rant, didn't see it coming.

A resounding thwack echoed through the gym as the ball slammed directly into the principal's face. The impact sent him stumbling backward, arms flailing, and in one glorious, gravity-defying moment, his wig lifted clean off his head.

For a fraction of a second, everything seemed to freeze. The wig, now airborne, twirled mid-flight, caught in the invisible grasp of momentum.

And then, like clockwork, Ukai lunged forward.

His hands shot out with the precision of a seasoned athlete, fingers snatching the rogue piece of hair from the air with expert dexterity. He barely stumbled, barely hesitated, cradling his prize as he frantically scanned for an escape route.

His eyes met yours.

You tilted your head towards the door, showing him his all planned escape, a smirk playing at your lips.

The corners of Ukai's mouth curled upwards before he took off, sprinting toward you with the wig secured tightly in his grip. Behind him, the rest of the gym had erupted into chaos—students rushing toward the fallen principal, voices rising in a symphony of concern and shock.

The corners of Ukai's mouth curled upwards before he took off and sprinted toward you, his feet barely touching the ground, his movements quick and precise. You expected him to bolt past you, to disappear down the hall in a blur of blond hair and stolen victory. But then, just as he reached the doorway—

His hand shot out.

Warm fingers curled firmly around your wrist, rough but steady, calloused from years of gripping volleyballs and coaching, strong in a way that made resistance feel useless. Before you could even process what was happening, the world seemed to tilt beneath you, your body yanked forward with a sudden force that sent your heartbeat into your throat.

Your breath hitched. Everything slowed.

The motion of running behind him, the sensation of his hand wrapped around yours, the slight squeeze of his fingers tightening to pull you more—it was so familiar. A forgotten memory, buried beneath years of silence, surfaced in a flash.

It had been during one of your pranks. You were younger, laughing breathlessly as you had sprinted through these very halls, feet pounding against the polished floors. Ukai had been in front of you, his grip on your wrist the same—urgent, unrelenting, but protective. Behind you, distant shouts had echoed as the two of you had run, giddy and reckless, escaping yet another prank gone wrong.

"Hurry up! If we get caught by Baldy, it's on you!"

His voice from the past layered over the present. The exact same words.

Your eyes widened, reality snapping back into place just as Ukai tightened his grip and pulled you fully into the run. The force sent you stumbling slightly, your body colliding with his for a fleeting second before you caught your footing, sprinting alongside him down the dimly lit hallway.

"What the hell—?!" you finally managed, your breath coming fast, heart hammering against your ribs.

Ukai threw you a smirk, his grip firm around your hand. "What? Did you really think I was gonna let you stand there and not watch the funniest part of the prank? Seeing his reaction was always your favorite part after all."

Your breath hitched slightly, while your heatt skipped a beat. However, you blinked rapidly, refusing to let the sentiment linger but a faint heat prickled at your cheeks.

"Besides," he cut you off, the teasing glint in his eyes growing stronger, "if I get caught, then I can blame it on you."

Your groan of exasperation echoed through the halls as the two of you ran, footsteps pounding against the tiled floor in frantic rhythm. Despite the years that had passed, you still knew the layout of the school by heart, and you instinctively led the way without hesitation. The principal's office was located on the first floor, on the other side of the building, at the very end of a long, dimly lit corridor. Your breath came in rapid bursts as you sprinted, heart hammering not just from the exertion but from the sheer exhilaration of the prank itself.

It didn't take long to reach your destination. Luck was on your side—the office door had been left slightly ajar, an open invitation neither of you hesitated to accept. Without slowing down, Ukai pushed inside, still gripping your hand, and quickly shut the door behind you. The moment it clicked into place, he wasted no time crossing the room with you as he placed the wig dead center on the desk, positioning it for maximum display.

A sharp exhale of relief left his lips. "God, I can't believe we did this. We need to get out of here ASAP and fine somwhere to hide." His voice was breathless, edged with exhilaration and exhaustion. He turned toward you, pointing a finger in mock accusation. "I'm never losing another bet to you. You hear me?"

You opened your mouth to reply but hesitated, suddenly very aware of the lingering warmth in your fingers his hand was occupying. Clearing your throat, you tilted at the hold he had on your hand.

Ukai followed your gaze, and realization dawned upon him. His eyes widened comically before he let out a noise—somewhere between a startled grunt and a strangled yelp—and immediately removed his hand as if your touch had burned him. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, shifting his weight while you busied yourself smoothing the fabric of your clothes, avoiding his gaze.

He was the first to break the awkward silence with a sigh. "You and your crazy ideas. I swear you just wanted to get me fired."

A smirk tugged at your lips. "I was merely reminiscing the good old times."

He scoffed, arms crossing over his chest. "Right. By making me risk my job while you stood back and watched?"

You let out a soft chuckle. "Come on, even if it was a tad dangerous, you have to admit it was fun."

"Fun for you! You didn't have to steal the guy's damn wig without getting caught!" He shot back, stepping closer, his frustration laced with reluctant amusement.

"Come on, Keishin. Where did your wild side go?" you teased, leaning in just slightly.

He rolled his eyes and promptly pushed your face away with his hand. "It disappeared along with my hopes and dreams of ever getting out of this hole."

Your amusement left for a second, frowning at the seemingly joking statement. "Wait, wha—"

But before you could ask further, a sudden cry from outside shattered the moment. "MY HAIR!"

Your eyes widened in alarm. Shit. You'd been so caught up in the banter that you'd forgotten to leave. Frantic footsteps echoed in the hall, growing louder. The doorknob rattled.

Ukai's gaze darted around the room before landing on a small, white closet door with slats. Without wasting a second, he grabbed your hand again and yanked you toward it. There was no time to protest before he flung the door open, pulled you inside, and shut it behind just as the office door burst open.

You barely had time to adjust to the sudden darkness before a warm hand clamped over your mouth, muffling the startled sound that threatened to escape. Your back pressed against the closet wall as Ukai leaned in, his body mere inches from yours. Time seemed to slow, the outside noise muffled as the only thing you could hear was the quickened rhythm of your own heartbeat.

His face was impossibly close. The slatted door let in thin, fragmented streaks of light, cutting across his face in sharp angles—highlighting the intense furrow of his brow, his sharp jawline, the way his lips were slightly parted as he forced himself to breathe evenly. His eyes, however, were the real trap. Locked onto yours, wide with something unreadable, flickering with something dangerous, something unspoken.

The heat from his palm sent a shiver down your spine, making your breath hitch. His fingers, slightly rough with callouses, rested firmly against your lips, silencing any involuntary sound you might make. The warmth of his body so close to yours was overwhelming, intoxicating even.

His palm against your mouth was hot, rough with callouses, his fingertips pressing just slightly too firmly against your lips, silencing any involuntary sound you might make. The warmth of it sent a jolt down your spine, leaving behind an unfamiliar tingling where his skin met yours. Your breath hitched against his palm, and you could swear you felt his fingers twitch in response.

You wanted to move, to push him away, to glare at him like you always did—but your body refused to listen. Every muscle had gone taut, locked in place by something far stronger than restraint. Your heart pounded against your ribcage, loud enough that you wondered if he could hear it, feel it echoing through the too-small space between you.

Slowly, as though realizing the sheer intimacy of the moment, his fingers dragged away from your lips. Not all at once, but in a way that burned—his fingertips lingering at the curve of your jaw, ghosting over your chin before retreating completely. The absence of his touch was sudden, jarring, and you felt the loss far more than you wanted to admit but it also made you more aware of how awefully close he still was.

Your breath came quicker now, but you weren't sure if it was because of the risk of getting caught or because of him. You swallowed hard, unable to tear your gaze away from his. His chest was so close that each breath sent the faintest brush of fabric against yours, and every shift in his posture only made the heat between you more unbearable.

Your eyes uncontrollably flickered back and forth between his eyes and his lips, mere inches away. 

Then, in a motion so slow it was almost imperceptible, he started to lean in.

It wasn't intentional, it couldn't be. His body simply moved of its own accord, as if compelled by something beyond logic, beyond reason. His eyes flickered down—just for a second, just long enough to make your stomach twist. His breath, warm and steady, fanned against your cheek, against your lips, and for a fleeting moment, you forgot everything else.

Your fingers curled slightly, your mind screaming to stop it. Because this wasn't supposed to happen. You were supposed to hate him. But your body wasn't responding.

But then—

"THERE YOU ARE, MY BABY!" A loud wail shattered the spell.

The principal's loud, horrified shriek shattered whatever spell had bound you, snapping both of you back to reality. Ukai jerked away as if he had gained back control, his eyes blown wide with realization, his breath uneven as he turned his head sharply toward the slatted door.

And just like that, the moment was gone, leaving nothing but the deafening echo of your racing heart.

The moment the principal's hands closed around his wig, cradling it like a long-lost treasure, you couldn't believe your eyes. "Oh god! I was so scared you'd somehow fallen, and I hadn't realized, but you were here the entire time!" he gushed, holding the wig with an intensity that was both horrifying and hilarious. "We will never be separated again, I promise." His fingers lovingly smoothed the strands of synthetic hair before he—oh god, no—pressed a reverent kiss to it.

You and Ukai both watched, transfixed, unable to look away. The absurdity of the situation wrapped around you like a spell. Before you could stop yourself, a laugh bubbled up, escaping your lips in a small, involuntary sound. Your hand flew up to your mouth in horror, as if you could somehow rewind the moment, as if silence could undo what had already been done.

Ukai tensed beside you, every muscle in his body locking into place as his eyes widened in sheer panic. The principal, frozen mid-admiration of his beloved wig, suddenly stiffened. His head jerked toward the closet, his narrowed eyes filled with suspicion. "Who's there?!" he barked.

You barely had time to react before instinct kicked in. Both you and Ukai shuffled backward as quietly as possible, pressing into the closet's back wall. Your shoulders brushed, then fully pressed together, the confined space forcing you against him. Your breath hitched as your pulse pounded against your ribs like a trapped bird.

The principal's shadow stretched across the closet door as he leaned in, his gaze attempting to pierce through the slats. You saw his fingers twitch, his posture rigid, his foot shifting slightly forward as he prepared to step closer. Your heart clenched painfully. He was going to open the door. He was going to find you both. And if he did—

Ukai would lose everything. And it would all be because of you.

The realization slammed into you like a punch to the gut. If he got fired, everything would change. There would be no more rivalry, no more competitions to see whose team could best the other, no more smug grins exchanged across the court. What would Karasuno even do? Get a new coach? Some stranger who wouldn't understand the dynamic, who wouldn't get the intensity of your battles? The thought left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Your breath hitched, your body tense with indecision. Then, without fully thinking, you shifted, placing yourself directly in front of Ukai, shielding him with your own body. His sharp intake of breath was barely audible, but you felt it—felt the way he stiffened in shock. His hand brushed against your arm as if trying to stop you, but you stood firm. If the principal opened that door, you would be the first thing he saw. And when he would, you'd draw his attention away, give Ukai a chance to slip out unseen.

At least, that's what you would have done if he hadn't suddenly froze in place.

A sudden outburst of noise from the gym shattered the thick silence. Shouts, the unmistakable thud of volleyballs against the floor, the squeak of sneakers—it was as if the entire world outside had decided to explode at the perfect moment. The principal jerked his head toward the sound, his grip on the door loosening. "God dammit!" he cursed, stepping away from the closet as his frustration redirected.

From your vantage point, you watched him storm toward the open window behind his desk, the one overlooking the gym. "I already said I was doing some visits and that I needed some calm! Can't these volleyball goons understand a simple request?! God, I hate them so much!" he seethed as he reached for the window, slamming it shut with unnecessary force.

With an angry huff, he straightened, adjusting his grip on his wig before placing it back atop his head with the utmost care. Then, without a second glance toward the closet, he stomped out of the office, the door clicking shut behind him.

For a long moment, neither you nor Ukai moved. The air between you remained charged, your bodies still pressed together as you strained to listen.

Then, finally, after what felt like an eternity, you both exhaled at the same time, a shared breath of overwhelming relief.

Ukai's head thudded back against the wooden wall of the closet. "I swear to god, next time, choose something that won't make me have a heart attack," he muttered, voice hoarse from adrenaline.

Your chest heaved as you tried to calm your racing pulse, the ghost of your earlier panic still tingling in your fingertips. You turned to look at him, his face inches from yours, eyes still wide with the lingering aftershock of what had just happened. And as your heart began to slow, another realization settled in.

You had been ready to take the fall for him.

And worse—you hadn't even hesitated.

***

 

Chapter 24: Can't Jump

Chapter Text



The weight of the realization settled in, heavy in your chest. The confined space of the closet, was suffocating. Without wasting another second, you pushed open the door and stepped out, the cool air of the office hitting you like a wave. It felt sharp against your heated skin, a stark contrast to the warmth that had lingered between you and Ukai in that impossibly tight space. But even now, standing in the open, you weren't sure if you could breathe any easier.

You exhaled, leaning against the desk, steadying yourself. Your back was turned to the closet, your heart still racing—whether from the close call or from something else, you refused to decipher. Behind you, the soft creak of the door followed by deliberate footsteps signaled Ukai's slow emergence. He slowly walked out, but he didn't move past you. He lingered.

You didn't have to look to know he was staring. You could feel it—his gaze, heavy and unrelenting, studying you in a way that made your skin prickle with awareness. His eyes flickered, his mind replaying the moment over and over. The moment when you, without hesitation, had stepped in front of him, shielding him, choosing to take the fall if it had come to that.

It didn't make sense.

It couldn't make sense.

You hated him. Just like he hated you.

So why had you done it?

That was the question he was asking himself. Ukai's mouth opened slightly as if he wanted to say something, but no words came. He shut it, then tried again, failing once more. Finally, after a deep breath, he found his voice.

"Why did you do that?" His voice was quiet but firm, cutting through the air like a blade.

The question caught you off guard, forcing you to turn around slowly. "What?"

"Why did you protect me?" he repeated, this time meeting your gaze directly.

You blinked, searching for an answer, but your mind betrayed you, leaving you grasping at empty air. "I—I didn't protect you," you stammered. "I just... I just put myself in front of you. That's it."

Ukai raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Yeah, that's called taking the fall for someone." His arms crossed, his stance firm. "Why?"

You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry. "I... It wasn't like that."

His lips pressed into a tight line. "If he had opened that door, you would've gotten exactly what you wanted. I'd be fired, and you'd finally be free of me."

"You think I wanted you to get fired?" You asked, offended.

"I mean, I wouldn't put it past you. We've done nothing but hate each other's guts from the beginning. A new coach for Karasuno would've been a relief for you, right?"

The words landed like a punch to the gut, and your breath hitched.

Because he wasn't wrong.

You'd spent so long fighting him, resenting his very presence, wishing he wasn't here. If the principal had caught him, it would have been the perfect opportunity to get rid of him. You wouldn't have to deal with his infuriating smirk, his stubbornness, his ability to challenge you in ways no one else ever had.

So why hadn't you let it happen?

The answer clawed at the edges of your mind, but it was too raw, too terrifying to face head-on.

Ukai took a step closer, and your heartbeat picked up again, hammering against your ribs. "So, I'm asking again," he murmured, his voice quieter this time, almost vulnerable. "Why did you protect me?"

The space between you shrank, the air thick with something indescribable. His closeness was suffocating in an entirely different way now, and it sent a wave of panic through you. You needed to end this conversation before—

"I felt bad, okay?" The words tumbled out in a rush, and without thinking, you reached out and shoved him back, putting much-needed distance between you. His brow furrowed in surprise.

"I gave you that dare," you continued hastily, crossing your arms in a poor attempt to shield yourself. "If you got caught, it would've been my fault. And yeah, maybe I hate you, but I'm not that much of an asshole. I have morals."

Ukai stared at you, silent. He processed your words, rolling them over in his mind, but the flicker of something in his expression told you he wasn't convinced. But it was more than that.

He looked almost... disappointed.

It was there, for just a moment. A flash in his eyes before his usual indifference took over, shutting down whatever emotion had almost surfaced. He blinked a few times, then sighed. "Right... well," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "Let's get back to our jobs, then, shall we?"

With that, he turned on his heel, making his way to the door without sparing you another glance.

You watched him walk away, a strange feeling twisting in your chest. It was foreign, uncomfortable. Your hand twitched at your side, the instinct to reach out, to say something—anything—tugging at you. But you clenched your fingers into a fist, resisting that surprising urge. Why would you say anything? This was a good resolution. You both hated each other. There was no need to add anything.

With a sigh, you slowly joined Ukai at the door, watching as he jiggled the handle with increasing frustration. His grip on it was tense, his knuckles turning slightly white as he tried again and again. His hand moved frantically, rattling the handle up and down, but the door refused to budge.

"What are you doing? Open it." You stated plainly, as if the obvious had somehow eluded him.

Ukai turned to face you, a deadpan expression crossing his features before his lips pulled into a sharp, irritated smile. "Oh geez, thank you. I hadn't thought of that." His voice dripped with sarcasm, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Rolling your eyes, you stepped forward, brushing his hand aside to try the handle yourself. But the second you attempted to twist it, your fingers freezing against the cool metal, your breath hitched. It was locked.

Your eyes widened slightly before you turned to face him. "It's locked."

Ukai crossed his arms, shifting his weight onto one foot as he gave you an unimpressed look. "Oh, is it? I hadn't noticed."

You exhaled through your nose sharply, resisting the urge to snap back. Instead, you turned fully towards him, crossing your arms. "Okay, no need to patronize me." Your voice was clipped, but you forced yourself to remain calm. "Instead of wasting time being an ass, focus your energy on how we're going to get out. We're locked in, and the principal might come back any minute."

Ukai clicked his tongue, glancing around the office, his eyes scanning for a possible exit. After a beat, his gaze landed on the windows. A slow, amused smirk stretched across his lips, and he turned back to you.

"Oh no..." you muttered, already knowing what he was thinking.

"Oh yes," he countered, his smirk widening.

You shook your head, stepping towards the window as if standing closer would somehow make it less of an option. "We can't go out the window! It's too high!" You leaned over slightly, peering down at the ground below. It wasn't exactly a death drop, but it was definitely far from a comfortable landing.

Ukai let out an amused chuckle as he followed you to the window. "Come on, it's barely over three meters." He pushed the glass open, letting the cool outside air seep into the room. "Plus, we're lucky. The grass will cushion the fall."

Your stomach churned at the thought of jumping. It wasn't the height—it was the risk. Your leg wasn't fully healed yet, and you couldn't afford to injure it further. But you couldn't tell him that.

"I-I... I can't do it," you mumbled, avoiding his gaze. Your fingers instinctively hovered over your thigh, as if shielding your old injury from even the thought of another impact.

Ukai raised an eyebrow before leaning in slightly, his voice dropping into something softer, teasing. "Come on, y/n. Where did your wild side go?" His words mirrored yours from earlier, but now, they carried a challenge.

You shot him a glare, but he only smirked.

Sighing, he stepped back. "Look, we don't have much of an option. We need to get out of here before the principal comes back, and besides, we have matches to supervise. The inter-highs are next week, and we can't afford any more distractions. So do whatever you want, hang out with the principal and his wig, but I'm jumping."

Without waiting for your response, he hoisted himself onto the window sill, his movements fluid and confident. He flipped his legs to the other side, perching for a moment as he glanced down, assessing the distance. Then, gripping the sill firmly, he lowered himself carefully, letting his body hang for a second to minimize the fall.

As he was about to let go, you called out his name.

"Keishin," your voice came softer than you intended, barely above a whisper.

Ukai's head snapped up, his grip on the window sill tightening instinctively despite the strain on his fingers. He looked up at you, his brows furrowing slightly as he caught sight of your expression—hesitant, uncertain, something he couldn't quite place. The dim light from the office cast a soft glow on your features, making you look almost... concerned? That couldn't be right. He must have misread it.

"What? I'm kind of in the middle of something here, so make it quick." His voice came out rough, strained from the tension in his arms.

You hesitated, your lips parting, then pressing together again as if unsure of your own words. Then, finally, you murmured, "Just... be careful, okay?"

His eyes widened ever so slightly, his heart stuttering at the unexpected softness in your tone. It threw him off, caught him completely off guard. And that momentary distraction was all it took.

His fingers slipped.

"KEISHIN!" you shouted, your hands gripping the window sill in horror as you watched him plummet.

He hit the ground hard, the breath knocked from his lungs in a sharp, painful gasp. The impact sent a jolt up his spine, and for a few agonizing seconds, he lay there, sprawled on the grass, blinking up at the night sky as the pain slowly registered.

"Shit! Are you okay?!" Your frantic voice cut through the haze, and he groaned, rolling onto his side with a wince.

"Fuck..." he muttered, rubbing the back of his head.

"Are you okay?" you asked again, your voice laced with genuine concern.

He exhaled a shaky breath, forcing himself to sit up. "Perfect. Landed just like I planned." The words came out dry, his voice still a bit winded from the shock.

You scoffed. "Yeah, right. That looked real graceful from up here."

"Well, thanks for the vote of confidence," he muttered before shaking off the residual dizziness. Then, he straightened up and shot you a look. "Alright, your turn. Jump."

Your entire body stiffened. "What?! Nuh-uh. Not after watching that disaster."

His brows furrowed. "What do you mean? My jump was perfect." He coughed slightly, still feeling the lingering effects of the fall.

You crossed your arms. "Yeah, thank you, but no thank you. I'm staying right here."

He let out a long, exasperated sigh, pressing his hands to his hips. "Come on, just jump! It's not that far down, I promise. Everything will be fine as long as you do it carefully."

But as you glanced at the ground below, a tight knot of anxiety coiled in your stomach. Your hands gripped the window frame, knuckles turning white as your heart pounded uncomfortably fast.

"I said I'm not jumping." Your voice came out firmer now, your eyes darting away from his.

Ukai frowned. "Okay, when the hell did you become such a wimp?" He raised a brow at you. "We used to do worse when we were kids, remember? It was even you who used to push me to do crazy shit because I was scared. And I know damn well that you're not the type to be afraid of a little jump like this, so what gives?"

Your fingers twitched against the wood. "I just can't," you said, voice quieter now, shoulders tensing.

"But why? Why can't you do it?" He was growing frustrated now, his voice edged with confusion and something else—something more urgent.

You shook your head again, avoiding his gaze. He couldn't know. You wouldn't let him know. He'd see it as weakness, and you refused to be weak in front of him.

"I already said I'm not jumping! Why do you care so much?" Your words were sharper now, defensive. A wall erected between you.

Ukai exhaled, running a hand through his hair, his patience wearing thin. "Because you're acting weird. You've always been the adventurous, bold, reckless type, y/n. And from what I've seen, that hasn't changed. So why can't you just jump?"

"Well, I've changed," you shot back, voice tight with frustration. "Now, I'm scared of jumping."

He scoffed. "Bullshit. You're not scared of that jump. You're hiding something, I can tell."

Your jaw clenched. "Oh, and how can you tell, huh? Last time I checked, we stopped being friends eight fucking years ago!"

Ukai took in a sharp breath, his expression hardening. "Because whether you like it or not, I know you just as much as you know me! And I know you're hiding something."

Your breath caught, the words striking something deep within you. For a moment, you just stared at him, caught off guard by the sheer certainty in his voice. He spoke as if those years apart meant nothing, as if the distance between you had never truly existed.

You clenched your jaw, gripping the window sill so tightly your fingers ached. "And what if I am?! Why does it fucking matter to you?! Just leave me alone, I'll find another way out."

Ukai let out a dry, humorless laugh, shaking his head. "God, you are so fucking annoying, y/n, you know that?! Even when I'm trying to help, you still manage to go out of your way to be a pain in my ass just because your damn ego can't accept it! You always have to do everything alone without anyone's help!"

He took a deep breath, his voice dropping lower now, rougher, tinged with something almost vulnerable.

"Of course. I'm sorry, princess, I forgot who I was talking to for a minute. I forgot you're too good for other people." He looked away, fists clenched. "For me..."

The last part was barely a whisper, lost to the wind between you.

Your eyes widened, your breath catching in your throat at the words that left his mouth. It was as if his voice carried the weight of something you had feared but never wanted to acknowledge.

"Is that really what you still think of me?" Your fingers dug into the wood of the window sill, your knuckles turning white as your voice wavered. There was an ache swelling in your chest, something deep, something you had long tried to push away.

Ukai's brows furrowed slightly, his stance firm, his jaw clenched. But even through his frustration, you could see the flicker of hesitation in his eyes.

"That I'm just an arrogant bitch who thinks everyone else is beneath her?" Your voice cracked, and you hated it, hated how much it revealed. The burning in your eyes intensified, the sting of unshed tears threatening to fall. You didn't want him to see you like this. Not like this.

Ukai's expression shifted for a fraction of a second, something unreadable flickering across his face, but he held his ground.

"It's certainly the impression you're giving me right now," he shot back. His voice was strong, but there was something underneath it—something almost defensive, as if he needed to justify his own words to himself. "For once, I try to set our differences aside, to help you, and all you do is push me away."

Your teeth gritted, anger mixing with the hurt in your chest.

"I'm not!" you shouted.

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Oh yeah? Then tell me why you can't jump."

You froze, your entire body tensing as if your muscles locked into place. Your lips parted slightly, but no words came. Your fingers twitched against the sill, gripping even tighter until your fingertips ached.

Ukai sighed, his voice quiet but carrying so much weight. "That's what I thought. You haven't changed one bit since high school, Y/n."

There was no malice in his tone, just disappointment—deep and raw. And for some reason, that was worse. So much worse.

You watched as he turned, his feet crunching softly against the gravel as he started walking away, back toward the gym. Something in you twisted violently, like a scream clawing at your throat, demanding to be let out. Why couldn't you just tell him? Why? Because of your ego? Because you didn't want to look weak? What was the point of hiding it now?

Your heart pounded, every part of you at war with itself. He was frustrating. Infuriating. If he could just stay an asshole, it would be so much easier to hate him. Why couldn't he be the same asshole that almost ruined your career eight years ago? Why did everything have to be so confusing?

"Fuck," you muttered under your breath, your vision blurring as you watched his retreating figure. And then, before you could stop yourself, the words tore out of your throat.

"I'm injured!"

Ukai stopped mid-step. The silence that followed was suffocating. Slowly, he turned back to face you, his expression unreadable. "What?"

Your breath hitched. It was too late to take it back now. "I'm injured, okay?" You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, taking a deep breath before forcing yourself to look at him.

"The reason I'm back in Japan now is because..." You swallowed, the words catching in your throat, like they were physically painful to say. "It's because I tore my ligaments."

Ukai's eyes widened slightly. He took a small step forward.

You exhaled shakily, your hands curling into fists at your sides. "Normally, it's an injury that is relatively common for volleyball players, something you can recover from. But..." You clenched your jaw, your gaze dropping. "My case was so severe that... I had to give up on my career."

Saying it out loud made it so much more real.

Ukai took another step closer, the look on his face no longer holding frustration, just shock—shock and something else.

You bit your lip, trying to steady yourself. "The reason I can't jump is because I risk injuring myself even more. Right now, I can barely play volleyball, but if I tore my already fragile ligaments again, who's to say if I could even play casually anymore? I can't risk that." Your voice wavered, and a tear slipped down your cheek "I'd lose everything I am, Keishin. I already feel like I lost part of myself. I'm nothing without volleyball."

Your arms wrapped around yourself, as if trying to hold yourself together, as if that could keep the cracks from widening any further.

Ukai didn't move for a long moment. His mouth opened, then closed, his hands flexing at his sides like he wanted to reach out, but didn't know how. He swallowed hard, his own expression twisting with something you couldn't quite place. 

He had noticed—he'd noticed the way you winced, the way you sometimes seemed to move just a little too carefully. But he hadn't imagined this. He had thought you had just come back because you wanted to. He had never considered the possibility that you had been forced to.

He let out a slow, uneven breath, rubbing the back of his neck, looking at you with an expression you couldn't read. He opened his mouth again, but this time, no words came out. Ukai clenched his fists, his breath steadying as he forced down the part of himself that always had to be right, always had to win. This wasn't about pride. Not this time.

"I-I..." He started, voice rough but unwavering. "You're not nothing without volleyball, Y/N."

Your breath hitched, eyes widening in shock. "W-What?" The words left your lips before you could stop them, your mind unable to process what he had just said—what Ukai Keishin had just said.

His gaze met yours, firm and resolute, but there was something deeper beneath it, something raw. "You never were. Not before, and not now. Volleyball doesn't define you. It never did."

You stood frozen, his words striking something deep, something you had buried beneath layers of denial and fear.

Ukai exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "Yeah, you were and still are a damn good player—one of the best. But that wasn't what made you you. It wasn't just the way you played. It was the way you thought, the way you adapted, the way you motivated and pushed everyone around you to be better. It was never just about your skill—it was about your mind, your drive, your fire. That's something no injury can take away."

Your fingers twitched against the windowsill, gripping it tightly like it was the only thing keeping you grounded.

"So what if you can't play professionally anymore?" He continued, stepping closer, his voice steady and certain. "That doesn't erase everything you've done. You went to the goddamn Olympics, y/n. That's no small achievement. And being injured doesn't make you any less of a professional. And it sure as hell doesn't mean you've lost your place in this sport. Look at what you're doing now. You're coaching, Y/n. Teaching. Passing everything you've learned to the next generation. You're shaping players in ways no one else can. You're making them stronger, smarter, better. That's not nothing. That's everything."

His words hit you like a wave, knocking the air from your lungs. You had spent so long drowning in the thought that you had lost yourself when you lost your career. That without playing, you were just a hollow shell of the person you used to be. But here he was—Keishin—the person you that was supposed to hate you, the person you were supposed, standing before you and telling you otherwise.

Your heartbeat pounded against your ribs, erratic and unfamiliar. His words shouldn't have mattered. His voice shouldn't have been the one breaking through the walls you had built. And yet, looking at him now—at the quiet sincerity in his expression, at the way his golden eyes held no mockery, no rivalry, just truth—your breath hitched, and warmth spread across your face.

He noticed. His gaze flickered slightly, just for a second, before Ukai exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders as he fixed you with an expectant look. "Anyway, now stop being annoying and jump," he said, tilting his head toward the window. "We've got our teams to coach for the Inter-Highs, and they're not gonna train themselves. They need to face each other at Nationals again so Karasuno can win—and I can rub it in your face."

And there he was. The Ukai you knew. The Ukai that didn't make you feel so unsteady, so confused. The Ukai you could hate without hesitation. The moment of sincerity had passed, and now he was back to being his usual smug, aggravating self.

You opened your mouth, ready to tell him off, to snap that he hadn't listened to a single word you had said. But before you could, he cleared his throat.

His hand, hesitant and almost reluctant, lifted slightly toward you. His fingers flexed before he balled them into a fist and released them again. He wasn't looking at you, his gaze fixed somewhere off to the side, like he couldn't quite bring himself to meet your eyes.

"And before you yell at me again..." He hesitated before letting out a sharp exhale, then finally forced himself to glance at you. His expression was taut, his usual confidence flickering with something else—something almost shy. "I'll catch you, okay? S-So just jump already," His voice was gruff, his pride barely allowing him to say the words.

Your fingers curled tighter around the edge of the window, pulse hammering in your ears. Was it fear? Or was it something else entirely?

"I-I..." You hesitated, completely caught off guard by the offer.

"Come on, do it before I change my mind and leave you to meet with wig-lover." He clicked his tongue, feigning irritation.

You inhaled deeply, steadying yourself. Then, cautiously, you sat on the window sill, letting your legs dangle over the edge. One last glance behind you. Then, a look down at the distance. Your hands instinctively hovered over your knees, fingers trembling ever so slightly.

Ukai noticed.

"I promise, I'll catch you before your legs even have the chance to scrape the ground," he said, confidence lacing his tone as he positioned himself.

Your heart pounded.

Clenching your fists, you took a deep breath and pushed yourself off the ledge, letting gravity take hold. The sensation of falling gripped you, your stomach lurching as you braced for impact. But it never came. Instead, warmth—strong, steady arms—caught you midair, securing you effortlessly in a firm, unwavering grip.

"Gotcha," Ukai murmured, his voice close—too close.

You slowly opened your eyes, blinking up at him but as your gaze crossed yours, his smirk flatered for a second before it was back, but there was something softer beneath it. His face hovered just inches from yours, his breath fanning against your skin. Your heart jolted, skipping an unsettling beat.

"See? Wasn't so bad, was it?" His smirk widened, clearly enjoying himself far too much.

Your pride flared, and you quickly turned your head away, your cheeks heating. "W-Whatever. Put me down. This is embarrassing."

His grin only grew. "Oh, suddenly you're embarrassed, huh?" He raised an eyebrow, his tone dripping with amusement. "Embarrassed that I, your sworn enemy, just saved your ass from an oh-so-terrible and deadly fall?"

You snapped your gaze back to him, glaring. "Okay, you saved me. I am eternally grateful, oh your graciousness." Your voice dripped with sarcasm. "Now put me down."

He held you tighter instead, his arms shifting slightly to adjust his hold. "Mm, nah. I think I'll enjoy this a bit longer."

Your jaw dropped. "What?! Keishin, put me down!"

He let out a low chuckle, clearly relishing your frustration. "You're so fun when you're flustered."

You groaned, pushing at his chest, but he held firm. "Just put me down, Keishin! Gosh, you're so annoying!"

"Mm, I know. It's a gift," he said, smirking.

You groaned in frustration, crossing your arms in defeat, while he chuckled, thoroughly enjoying your suffering. "On second thought, maybe I should've jumped myself," you muttered, crossing your arms. "That way, maybe I would've died from the fall and I wouldn't have to endure your presence anymore!"

Ukai raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in his golden eyes before he leaned in, his smirk widening. "But you didn't."

You rolled your eyes and shoved his face away with your palm. "You're such a child."

He scoffed, swatting your hand aside. "Says the one who's throwing a tamper tantrum to get out of my arms."

Before you could retort, a distinct throat clearing behind you sent a jolt of panic through your body. Both of you froze, your bodies going rigid before slowly turning your heads in unison. Standing there, arms crossed and an infuriatingly knowing look on his face, was Nekomata.

"Well, well," your grandfather mused, the corner of his mouth tugging into a teasing smile. "What do we have here?"

Your face went up in flames. "Grandpa!" you yelped, while Ukai's eyes widened in horror.

In an instant, you both scrambled away from each other, moving so frantically that you tripped over yourselves and collapsed onto your backs with an embarrassing thud. The breath shot from your lungs, but you barely noticed as you shot upright, putting as much distance between yourself and Ukai as humanly possible.

"It's not what you think!" you pleaded, eyes wild with desperation.

Nekomata raised an eyebrow, his amusement only growing. "Really?"

"I—I... I just... We just... We were stuck, and I—I... the window... I had no choice!" you stammered, barely able to form a coherent sentence under his scrutinizing gaze.

Your grandfather merely tilted his head, his expression unchanging, that knowing look never leaving his face.

You groaned in frustration.

Ukai cleared his throat, drawing attention to himself as he dusted off his sleeves. "What Y/N here means is that we were trapped in the principal's office for uh... reasons. And I, being the selfless, chivalrous man that I am, graciously helped a very scared Y/N get down—OUCH!"

He winced, rubbing his arm where you had just smacked him.

"Alright, that's enough, prince charming," you deadpanned, shooting him a glare before turning back to your grandfather. "But yeah, that's basically it! I just had to get down! That's all!" you insisted, practically begging for him to drop it.

Nekomata hummed, pretending to consider your words. Then, with a slow nod, he simply said, "Sure."

And then, just like that, he turned on his heel and walked away, hands clasped behind his back, leaving you standing there, twitching in barely-contained frustration.

Ukai stepped closer, leaning down slightly. "That went well."

You didn't hesitate to smack his shoulder again.

"OW—what was that for?!" he exclaimed, rubbing the sore spot.

"You were being annoying, like usual!"

Ukai only shrugged, unfazed. "That's no way to treat your savior."

You groaned, turning on your heel and storming off, determined to get as far away from him as possible.

"Y/N, come back! I'm not done bragging about saving you!" he called after you, his voice dripping with amusement.

"Leave me alone!" you shot back without looking.

"My mom's gonna love hearing about how I saved you tonight!" he continued, his laughter following you like an inescapable shadow.

Your eyes widened as you groaned again. You'd completely forgotten about the dinner. 

God help you. You were going to have to endure Ukai for the entire night.

This was going to be hell.

***

Chapter 25: Honey Trap

Chapter Text

You stood outside the convenience store with your grandpa, staring at the entrance of Ukai's apartment building, mentally preparing yourself for the chaos that was about to unfold. Dinner with Ukai and his mother was already bound to be an exhausting affair, but after everything that had happened between you and Ukai today, you didn't think you could handle any more of her wild assumptions. Hopefully, by some miracle, she had gotten over the ridiculous idea that you and Ukai were a couple.

Tonight needed to be simple—plain and simple hatred, just like always. That's how it was supposed to be. That's how it should be. It should be easy... right?

Your grandpa adjusted the bottle of wine in his hands, his fingers brushing over the label. "Do you think Mio will like the bottle of wine we chose?" he asked, his voice carrying an uncharacteristic hint of hesitation.

You glanced at the bottle and smiled. "Of course, she will. It's her favorite brand."

He nodded but didn't seem fully convinced. "Right, I forgot..." He paused, his gaze lingering on the bottle as if lost in thought. "It's just... it's been such a long time since I last saw her. I don't want to mess it up."

His voice softened, and for the first time that night, you saw a flicker of something sad beneath his usual confidence.

Your smile faltered, and you gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "I know she's always been like a daughter to you ever since Mom left, but even if you haven't seen her in a long time, I'm sure nothing's changed. She specifically asked me to invite you tonight. She wants you here."

Mio had been a constant presence in both your lives after your mother had left. Where your grandpa had struggled to raise a daughter alone, Mio had stepped in, filling the gaps, guiding you in ways only a mother figure could. She had been a rock for both of you. But when you and Ukai had your falling out, that connection had been severed. You had been so wrapped up in your own anger that you hadn't considered how hard it must have been for your grandpa, too.

He exhaled through his nose, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. "Yeah... you're right."

"I'm always right," You smirked as you opened the door. "Now, let's get this over with."

With a pat on his shoulder, you led the way into the store, slipping behind the curtain that led upstairs to the apartment. Each step up the stairs felt heavier than the last, the anticipation of the evening ahead settling deep in your stomach. 

You reached the door, took a deep breath, and rang the doorbell.

Almost immediately, you heard the sound of muffled voices—many muffled voices. Laughter, overlapping conversations, the distinct clinking of glasses. Your brow furrowed. That was... a lot of noise. Wasn't this just supposed to be a small dinner? Just you, Ukai, Mio, and your grandpa?

Before you could dwell on it further, the door abruptly swung open, revealing Mio standing before you, dressed up and beaming with excitement. The second she laid eyes on you, her face lit up even more.

"There she is!" she exclaimed, lunging forward to pull you into a tight hug. Her embrace was warm, familiar, and nearly bone-crushing.

You barely had time to return it before she pulled back, still grinning. "The first star of the night!" she added, her tone dripping with enthusiasm.

Your brow furrowed at her words, confusion prickling at the back of your mind. First? But before you could ask, she turned to your grandpa with an equally excited squeal, pulling him into a hug just as tight.

"Yasufumi! You're looking well! Still going strong, I hear!"

Your grandpa let out a hearty chuckle. "You know me, I'm a tough cookie. I'll be coaching until the day I die."

Mio laughed, shaking her head. "Oh, I believe it."

"Hey, is old man Ukai here?" He asked.

She shook her head. "Unfortunately, he's still recovering and can't leave the hospital right now but he wished us all to spend a good night together!" 

"I see," Nekomata sighed before he smirked, "That's too bad. I wanted to brag about my team." 

Your heart softened at the exchange. "Mio, it's really good to see you again. And thank you so much for inviting us tonight."

She gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to her chest. "Aww, aren't you the sweetest! I'm just so happy to see you, sweetie. It's been far too long!" She grasped your hand in hers, giving it an affectionate squeeze before tugging you inside. "Come on in, the whole family can't wait to see you!"

You let yourself be dragged down the hallway before her words fully processed.

Wait.

Whole family?

Your steps faltered, dread curling in your stomach. "Wait, what?"

But it was too late.

You reached the living room just in time for your eyes to land on at least two dozen people standing around, chatting, drinking, and laughing together. The room was packed, filled with Ukai's entire extended family.

Your stomach dropped. This was not a small dinner. This was something else entirely. 

"Oh god," you muttered under your breath, blinking rapidly as if trying to clear the vision before you—hoping, praying that you were somehow hallucinating. Maybe this was a trick of the light. A stress-induced hallucination. Anything but reality. But no—no matter how many times you willed it to change, the scene before you remained horrifyingly real.

The living room was packed wall to wall, bodies shifting and mingling, laughter echoing between clinking glasses. The air was thick with the scent of warm food, perfume, and a hint of cigarette smoke. Some faces were familiar—uncles, cousins you'd seen once or twice at family gatherings—but there were others you didn't recognize at all, complete strangers now raising their drinks in celebration of... something?

Your stomach twisted into knots. You had a bad feeling about this.

Before you could turn to Mio and demand an explanation, her voice rang out excitedly behind you, cutting through the already noisy room like a siren.

"Keishin! There you are! Our second star of the night! I was searching all over for you!"

Your breath hitched at that word again. Second?

Ukai emerged from the hallway, rubbing the back of his head with mild disinterest. "Yeah, I just needed to review a few things with the team—"

Then he looked up. And he froze.

His entire body went rigid as his eyes swept over the crowd, mouth slightly agape. The usual lazy confidence he carried seemed to drain from his face, replaced by sheer, unfiltered confusion. His gaze darted to yours, searching for some kind of explanation, but all you could do was stare back at him with the same wide-eyed panic.

For a split second, relief flickered through you : He had no idea either. 

But then panic surged through you :  He had no idea either.

Ukai barely had time to react before Mio grabbed his wrist, dragging him toward you. He flailed slightly, jabbing a finger toward the sea of relatives in bewilderment, his lips forming the silent question: what is going on?

"Mom, what is this?" he finally asked, but Mio was already stepping forward, standing tall in the middle of the living room, her arms wide and her face bright.

"Everyone!!" she called out, her voice a bright beacon over the hum of chatter.

Instantly, the room went still. Dozens of eyes turned toward her in unison, an eerie synchronization that made the moment even more suffocating.

She beamed. "Here they finally are! Our stars of the night! My son Keishin and his beautiful, much-awaited girlfriend, Y/n!"

The room erupted. A thunderous wave of cheers, claps, and celebratory whistles filled the air. Glasses clinked in excitement, and people surged forward with delighted grins.

Meanwhile, you choked on air.

Your breath stalled in your throat, your limbs locking in place as your brain tried—tried—to process what had just been said. You could feel the color draining from your face, your heart slamming against your ribs like it was trying to escape your chest.

Did she— No. No way. No. She didn't just say that.

Your head snapped toward Ukai, desperate for some kind of lifeline, but he looked just as horrified, if not more. His pupils had dilated like a deer caught in headlights, his mouth slightly open as if words had physically abandoned him. His jaw clenched, his shoulders squared, but for once, he was just as frozen as you were.

What. The. Hell.

The room didn't give you time to react.

"We've been waiting for this!" an aunt called out, practically vibrating with excitement.

"Finally found yourself a girl, huh? We were beginning to lose hope!" an uncle added with a booming laugh.

"When's the wedding?!" one of the grandmothers suddenly shouted, sending another wave of cheers and congratulatory claps rippling through the room.

Your soul left your body.

Your fingers twitched at your sides, your skin prickling with heat as an overwhelming mix of secondhand embarrassment and sheer terror coursed through you. Your lips stretched into what you hoped was a neutral smile, but it probably looked more like a grimace.

There was no escaping this. Denying it right now—in front of this entire crowd—felt like an impossible task. Ukai must have realized it too, because in the next instant, he suddenly stepped in front of you, raising his hands as if trying to calm a riot.

"Alright, that's enough for now!" he called, his voice high-strung but still carrying that forced air of nonchalance. "T-Thank you uhm... for being here tonight and all that, but we'll, uh... be right back!"

His smile twitched violently at the edges as he reached out, fingers wrapping around your wrist before you could react. With his other hand, he grabbed his mother's wrist and tugged her along, briskly dragging both of you toward the hallway like a man on a mission.

You barely had time to stumble after him before he shoved open his bedroom door, ushered you both inside, and slammed it shut behind him. The moment the door clicked, he whirled on his mother, eyes burning with the fires of barely contained outrage.

"Mom, what the fuck is this?!" he whisper-shouted, his hands gripping his hair like he was on the verge of losing his mind.

You all but collapsed onto the edge of his bed, dropping your face into your hands, trying to regulate your breathing. What just happened? What just happened?!

Mio, on the other hand, had the audacity to blink at him with innocent confusion. "What do you mean?"

Ukai groaned so deeply it sounded like it came from the depths of his soul. He turned away, biting his knuckle in sheer anguish before spinning back to her. "Don't play dumb, Mom! I've told you a hundred times that Y/N and I aren't dating! You can't just invite our entire family and announce this like it's some grand event! Are you insane?!"

His arm flailed toward the door. "Now everyone thinks Y/N is my girlfriend! They already pressure me non-stop about settling down, and now, thanks to you, I'm never gonna hear the end of it!" His voice cracked slightly from the sheer agony as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "I can't believe this..."

Mio just shrugged, completely unbothered. "I mean, you could always tell them she's not your girlfriend. I'm sure they'd understand that this was all just a big misunderstanding. Even poor, very fragile Nana, whose only dream is to see the last of her grandchildren get married before she..." She pressed a hand to her chest dramatically, pausing for maximum effect. "Well... you know..."

Ukai's eye twitched. Violently.

Mio hummed, then turned toward the door with a serene smile. "Anyway, join us when you're ready!"

Ukai's panic reignited. "I know what you're trying to do, and it isn't going to work!" he called after her. "I'm going to tell the whole family that you lied!"

Mio simply tossed a casual shrug over her shoulder. "Once again, son, all just a big misunderstanding. I'm sure they won't be too disappointed to hear that."

With that, she slipped out of the room, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

Ukai groaned, dragging his hands down his face. "I hate my life."

You let out a slow, suffering sigh from the bed. "Well, that makes two of us."

Ukai let out a deep breath, rubbing the back of his neck, his fingers scratching nervously at his skin as he slowly turned to look at you. You were sitting on the edge of his bed, head tilted back in pure despair, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling as if mentally preparing to disassociate from reality. He swallowed, shifting awkwardly where he stood.

"I-I... I swear I had no idea about this," he started, his voice rushed, the words tumbling over each other as he gestured uselessly. "I didn't think my mom would pull something this crazy, I mean—this is completely insane! I-I—"

You sighed, finally tilting your head to look at him, one brow raised in unimpressed amusement. "Keishin, please," You exhaled through your nose and leaned back on your hands, shifting into a more comfortable position. "You think I don't know your mom by now? Sure, I haven't seen her in a while, but I still know her by heart. This isn't even the most ridiculous thing she's done."

Ukai let out a breath, finally moving to sit next to you, the mattress dipping under his weight. "Oh yeah?" he muttered, tilting his head slightly with a skeptical smirk. "I feel like this one might actually take the cake."

You let out a short laugh before shaking your head. "Have you forgotten the time she tricked us into going to that fancy restaurant, saying it was to celebrate her promotion, and then ditched us? We got seated at the special table for couples where a band serenaded us with romantic songs all night."

Ukai blinked a few times before his eyes widened in realization. He burst out laughing, nearly doubling over. "Oh my god, I'd completely forgotten about that!" He groaned, running a hand down his face. "I had just turned eighteen, and Mom was so desperate for us to get together that she orchestrated the whole thing."

You were already giggling at the memory, shaking your head in disbelief. "And then at the end of the meal, that guy came up to us and congratulated us on our engagement! Remember?"

Ukai groaned loudly. "Yeah! Because my mom told him that on her way out!" He dragged his hands down his face, still wheezing with laughter. "God, that was the longest, most painfully awkward dinner of my life."

You nodded, wiping a stray tear of laughter from the corner of your eye. "It was definitely horrible in the moment, but thinking back on it now? It's honestly kind of hilarious."

Ukai exhaled, leaning back on his arms with a small smirk. "Yeah, well, I thought she'd grown out of that phase, but clearly, I underestimated her." He shook his head, still slightly in disbelief. "I mean, what did she expect? That by telling the entire family, we'd just... what? Go along with it? Like hell I'm doing that."

You chuckled. "I honestly have no idea what her thought process was, but whatever it was? It was not a good one."

"Definitely not a good one," He scoffed, shaking his head. "Like you could ever pretend to be in love with me. You wouldn't even be able to fake tolerating me if your life depended on it."

You froze for half a second before scoffing. "Excuse me?" You turned to him with an incredulous expression. "Like you could ever pretend to be in love with me when you can't even lie about the weather!"

Ukai leaned back, a hand dramatically placed over his chest. "I'm sorry? You really think I wouldn't pull it off?"

You crossed your arms. "Oh, I know you wouldn't. When's the last time you even had a girlfriend?"

Ukai's eyes narrowed. "When's the last time you had a boyfriend?"

Your mouth opened, then closed. "I—I... whatever! That's not the point! The point is, I could make your entire family believe I'm madly in love with you if I wanted to."

"Please," Ukai let out a sharp laugh. "You wouldn't last ten minutes."

You smirked, standing up from the bed. "Oh yeah? I bet you wouldn't even last five."

 His eye twitched slightly as he scoffed. "Oh, you wanna play this game? Fine. We'll play this game." He took a step back, smirk widening. "Since apparently you're so damn good at this—"

"Because I am."

"—then let’s make it a bet." Ukai stood up as well, stepping closer, the space between you shrinking as his arms crossed over his chest. "We'll pretend to be together in front of my entire family and the first one who cracks, loses."

Your eyes narrowed, lips curling slightly in challenge. "Fine with me!" You tapped your chin in mock thought before grinning. "What are the stakes?"

"Since I'm a gentleman, I'll let you choose a dare that works for us both." He said. 

You rolled your eyes, thinking for a moment before your lips curled into a devious grin. "The person that loses has to do a tap dance performance. In front of both our teams. Full routine, with the full attire."

For the briefest moment, Ukai faltered. It was quick—just a flicker of hesitation—but you caught it. His composure returned almost instantly, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Someone's overconfident," He raised an eyebrow as he held out his hand. "Deal."

You took his hand firmly, giving it a single shake. "Don't worry, I'll send over some tap dance choreographies later so that you can practice."

His eyes glinted with amusement as he held out his hand. "Keep them for yourself. I'll watch it live anyway when I see you perform, princess."

"I think you're severely underestimating me, sweetie." You said, already putting yourself in your role.

Ukai's smirk only widened as he suddenly yanked you forward by your intertwined hands, catching you off guard. Your body jolted slightly as you stumbled into his chest, and before you could react, his arm curled around your waist, pulling you in closer.

You barely had time to process the unexpected warmth of his body before he leaned down, lips just inches from your ear. His voice dropped into a sickeningly sweet drawl. "No, darling. I think you are underestimating me."

Your breath hitched slightly at the sudden shift in his demeanor, but before you could come up with a scathing retort, he straightened up, flashing a shit-eating grin.

"Now, come on, baby," He teased. "I've got my entire family to fool and a bet to win."

With that, he confidently strode forward, dragging you with him as he swung the bedroom door open. With his arm firmly wrapped around your waist, Ukai held you close as the two of you walked back into the living room. The warmth of his body was pressed against yours. The moment you came into view, a loud voice erupted from across the room.

"There they are! Our much awaited lovebirds!"

A chorus of cheers whistles followed, every head turning toward you both with expectant smiles. Oh god, you were going to need some alcohol if you were going to get through this. You could feel Ukai's muscles tense for a fraction of a second before he plastered on a wide grin—one so deceptively bright and charming that only you could tell it was completely fake.

"There we are indeed," he echoed, his voice laced with a falsely enthusiastic warmth that would have fooled anyone else. 

Without giving you much of a chance to move, one of his uncles pushed through the small crowd, an all-too-familiar, lecherous grin spreading across his face as he leaned in a little too close. You could already tell where this was going.

"What were you two up to in that room, huh?" His thick eyebrows waggled suggestively, eyes glinting with a sleazy kind of amusement. "Couldn't get enough of each other already?"

You felt Ukai's grip shift subtly, his hand sliding from your waist up to your upper arm as he pulled you closer, his thumb rubbing against your skin in a silent warning. His smirk was relaxed, easy—far too comfortable for your liking.

"Can't hide anything from you, Uncle," he said smoothly, letting out a short chuckle. "I hadn't seen her all day, and I just had to sneak in a few kisses before greeting everyone properly." Your breath hitched slightly as he turned to you, his smile dripping with amusement and challenge. "Isn't that right, sweetheart?"

Oh, he was enjoying this, enjoying torturing you. You could see it in the way his eyes glinted, in the way he pulled you just a fraction closer. He wanted to see you falter—to see you squirm under the weight of this ridiculous charade.

Too bad for him, you weren't about to give him the satisfaction.

You let out a soft hum of agreement, tilting your head as you turned your gaze back to his uncle, a slow, smug smile spreading across your lips. "Oh, we just can't seem to stay apart for long," you cooed, the over-sentimental and sweet tone of your voice practically dripping with devotion.

Before Ukai could react, you wrapped both arms around his neck, your fingers grazing the nape of his neck with deliberate slowness. "We need our daily dose of each other, or else we just don't function as well," you purred, voice playful yet unwavering. Then, with a teasing smirk, you reached up and gently grabbed his chin, turning his face toward you. "Isn't that right, sweetie?"

Ukai's eye twitched—just barely—but it was enough for you to notice. His smile remained in place, though it was a little too tight, the edges a little too forced.

"Ah, young love," his uncle sighed, pressing a hand to his chest as if deeply moved. "Enjoy it while it lasts, kids. Once marriage gets involved, it's no picnic." He then leaned in conspiratorially toward Ukai, his voice dropping just enough to make your skin crawl. "Trust me on this one, buddy. Women are impossible to live with," He leaned back and turned to you. "especially the pretty and well-shaped ones."

Your jaw clenched, disgust curling in your stomach as his uncle sent a knowing wink your way, his gaze going back and forth between your face and your chest.

Ukai, to his credit, didn't drop his smile, but you could feel the way his grip tightened ever so slightly around you. His tone remained light, even amused, but there was an underlying sharpness to it that made your breath catch.

"Maybe it's a bit too early to talk about marriage, Uncle," he mused, stepping ever so slightly closer, his body subtly imposing itself between you and the older man. "But I think things will be just fine for us."

His uncle let out a snort, about to say something else, but Ukai cut him off with a casual tilt of his head. "Besides," he continued, his tone turning just a shade cooler, "if you weren't looking at other women all the time, maybe married life would be a picnic. And maybe, just maybe, you wouldn't be on your fourth marriage."

Silence.

His uncle's face twitched, his eyes widening just slightly, caught completely off guard by the unexpected jab. You, on the other hand, were struggling to hide your shock. You knew Ukai wasn't one to keep quiet when something pissed him off, but to call his uncle out like that, in front of everyone? That was something else.

Ukai let the moment linger just long enough before his smile returned, just as charming as before. "Anyway," he added breezily, "thanks for coming tonight, Uncle. Y/N and I have a lot of people to catch up with, so if you'll excuse us..."

Without waiting for a response, he took your hand—gently, but firmly—and led you away, the tension in his shoulders still lingering. You glanced up at him as you walked, still trying to process what had just happened.

He just told his uncle off. Publicly. And effortlessly.

A thrill of satisfaction curled in your chest. You had always despised that uncle—the way he talked about women like they were objects, like they were nuisances to tolerate rather than people. But Ukai had just shut him down in a way that was so smooth, so cutting, that it left you stunned.

As you walked through the living room, you stopped by the table where the drinks were arranged. You hurried to pick up a glass of champagne and downed it in one go. And then you picked up another one and did the same. 

"Oh, Keishin! I haven't seen you in so long! How are you, my sweet child?"

One of his aunts—one you recognized—rushed toward him, her arms outstretched as she grabbed his face between her hands, squeezing his cheeks before laying a dramatic kiss on one of them. A bright red lipstick stain remained in its wake.

You barely contained a chuckle, biting your lip as Ukai turned to glare at you with narrowed eyes. But before you could fully enjoy his suffering, karma struck.

"And how could I forget our soon-to-be new addition to the family?"

Before you had a chance to react, the same treatment was bestowed upon you. The aunt clutched your face with surprising strength and pressed a loud, exaggerated kiss to your cheek. When she pulled back, you could already feel the unmistakable smudge of lipstick left behind.

You turned your head slowly to find Ukai watching with pure, unfiltered amusement, his smug grin practically radiating satisfaction.

Oh, you were so not letting this go.

"I'm so glad it's you, Y/N!" she gushed, her voice laced with the kind of warmth only an overenthusiastic family member could conjure. "Ugh, do you have any idea how long we've been waiting with your mother? We were beginning to lose hope, but thank God, He brought you back to us—and to Keishin."

Your lips parted slightly, unsure of how to respond to such an impassioned declaration, but she wasn't finished. She tightened her grip, shaking your hands slightly for emphasis. "We always knew, your mother and I. Always. That you two would end up together. Even if Keishin certainly took his damn sweet time to finally tell you."

She shot Ukai an accusatory look, her brows raising in exaggerated disapproval. He, on the other hand, merely sighed dramatically before a lopsided grin spread across his face. With an air of feigned exasperation, he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, effortlessly pulling you into his side. His body was warm, solid, his grip firm yet relaxed, as if he had done it a thousand times before.

"What can I say, Aunt Becky? Good things take time. Besides," he added, tilting his head in mock contemplation, "I had to make sure she'd be able to handle all of this before I made my move." He gestured to himself with a smirk, earning an affectionate swat on the arm from his aunt.

Becky practically melted at the sight, clasping her hands together with an audible gasp. "You two are just the cutest!" she squealed, nearly bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Please, tell me the story of how you two got together!"

Your heart stuttered in your chest. Shit. You hadn't thought that far ahead.

But then, an idea. A brilliant, devious idea.

You plastered on your sweetest smile, one that you knew Ukai would immediately recognize as trouble, and turned to him. "What a marvelous idea! How about you tell it, honey?" You placed a hand gently on his chest, your fingertips barely brushing the fabric of his shirt. "You always love to tell that story."

Ukai stiffened. It was subtle, but you felt it. His expression barely flickered, but you saw the warning gleam in his eyes as he turned his gaze toward you. Oh, he knew exactly what you were doing.

Still, he forced a saccharine smile and replied, "Why of course, sweetheart!" His voice was smooth, unbothered, but the slight clench of his jaw betrayed him.

But before he could even begin to spin a story, Becky's eyes widened as if struck by a sudden epiphany. "Oh! Everyone! Come and listen, quick! Keishin is about to tell us the story of how he asked her out!"

Your stomach dropped. Ukai visibly tensed beside you, his hand gripping your shoulder just a fraction tighter as the room shifted around you. One by one, family members turned, their attention homing in on you both like sharks scenting blood. Conversations ceased, laughter dimmed, and suddenly, all eyes were on the two of you.

Ukai leaned slightly, his voice a breath against your ear. "Good luck," you whispered, barely moving your lips.

"Shut up," he muttered back.

Before the weight of expectation could settle too deeply over you, a voice rang from the kitchen. "Everyone! Dinner is served—oh?"

Mio stepped into the room, balancing four large serving plates in her arms, her gaze locking onto the gathered crowd. Her eyes flickered between Ukai and you, and slowly, one brow arched in silent question.

"Sis! Come here!" Becky practically shrieked, waving her over. "Though I'm sure you've already heard it a million times, Ukai was just about to tell us the story of how he asked Y/N out!"

Ukai's mother paused, then smirked. It was a slow, knowing smirk that made your palms dampen. "Is that so?" she mused, carefully setting the plates down on the dining table.

Ukai swallowed. You knew he was panicking. Nekomata, standing just behind her, glanced between the two of you before a chuckle rumbled from his chest. That damn old man knew exactly what you were doing.

You silently groaned. Why had you made that stupid bet again?

Ukai cleared his throat, straightening his shoulders. "I—uh... yes, yes. But since my mom's heard it so many times from me, how about we hear it from Y/N's perspective, huh?" He shot you a beaming smile as he turned to you, the very picture of innocence.

Your eye twitched. That little bitch. He used your own technique against you.

"Oh yes, yes!! Come on, tell us, sweetie!" Becky squealed, practically vibrating with excitement.

Ukai's smug expression made you want to throttle him. But instead, you took a slow, deep breath, smoothing your expression into something pleasant. If he wanted to play dirty, fine. You'd match him step for step.

With a practiced, effortless smile, you turned to face the family. "I would," you said sweetly, "but Keishin's too shy to admit he wants to tell it first. Isn't that right? Sweetie, scream if you wanna tell the story yourself."

Ukai frowned, puzzled. "Wha— OWWW!"

He jolted violently as your fingers dug into the skin of his back, pinching hard. The startled yelp that left his lips was almost too satisfying. He quickly caught himself, though, clearing his throat as the family stared at him with mild concern. "Ow— I mean... you know me so well, baby," he gritted out, forcing a smile.

But if looks could kill, you'd be dead where you stood.

Ukai turned back to his family with an exaggerated, almost theatrical sigh, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "Alright, so I'm sure you all know how Y/N left Japan to become a professional volleyball player, while I, poor little Keishin, was left completely heartbroken and alone, forced to pick up the shattered pieces of my life and move on." His voice dripped with faux tragedy, his hand clutching his chest dramatically.

You rolled your eyes, exhaling sharply through your nose, but let him continue his ridiculous act.

"Eight long and painful years passed, each day duller than the last without her around. I'd lost all hope of ever seeing her again, convinced that she had long forgotten about little old me. However, fate—cruel and beautiful fate—had other plans." His golden eyes gleamed with mischievous amusement as he spoke, spinning the tale with exaggerated passion.

"Imagine my surprise when one day, as Karasuno's volleyball team was preparing for a friendly match, I glanced across the court and who do I see standing there, clipboard in hand, looking just as breathtaking as the day she left?" He turned to you with a teasing smile, reaching out to take your chin between his fingers, tilting your face slightly upward. "None other than my beautiful, radiant, and—at the time—future girlfriend, coaching the enemy team."

Your lips twitched into a forced, sweet smile as you stared back at him, feigning affection. You wouldn't break now—not so easily. You had tricks up your sleeve, and this story? This story was nothing. You could play this game just as well as he could.

"I was so shocked, so utterly blown away by her unchanged beauty, that for a moment, I forgot how to breathe," Ukai continued, releasing your chin and turning back to the captivated audience. "I stood there, completely frozen, barely able to form a coherent thought."

"Get to the good part!" Becky interrupted, practically bouncing in place. "How did you ask her out?"

Ukai chuckled, clearly reveling in his own performance. "Well, after practice ended and the teams were wrapping up, I watched her start to leave. And at that moment, something inside me snapped. I knew I couldn't hold it in any longer. I had spent too many years pretending I didn't care, and I wasn't going to waste another second."

He turned to you again, mischief gleaming in his eyes, and before you could react, he suddenly dropped to one knee, still holding onto your hands. A horrified jolt ran through you, but you kept your expression steady, even as the entire room gasped in delight.

"Underneath the pouring rain, drenched and desperate, I ran after her," Ukai declared dramatically, squeezing your hands in his. "And when I caught up to her, heart pounding, breath ragged, I grabbed her hand and looked into her eyes and said—"

He paused for effect, taking a deep breath before grinning slyly up at you. "Y/N, my love, my muse, my one true destiny. Life without you has been a storm without end, but now that I have found you again, I refuse to let go. You are the only light in my otherwise dull existence, the heartbeat that keeps me alive. Will you grant this humble fool the honor of being yours for eternity?"

You could barely hold back your snort. Fuck, he was good. You'd almost laughed and broken character, almost. 

Without missing a beat, you dropped to your knees as well, scooting closer until your faces were only inches apart. His cocky smirk faltered for a fraction of a second, eyes flickering with a mix of confusion and something else—something unreadable.

You reached out and took his hands in yours, gripping them tightly, your voice dipping into an overly sentimental, sugar-sweet tone. "Oh, Keishin," you cooed, blinking dramatically. "The moment I heard those words leave your lips, my heart sang with joy! How could I ever say no? You are my love. My light. My life."

Then, before he could react, you leaned in and placed a soft kiss on his cheek, letting your lips linger just long enough for the warmth to spread through his skin. It was the perfect final touch—the cherry on top of this ridiculous act.

If he didn't break character now, you didn't know when he would.

The entire family erupted into cheers, clapping and gushing over the so-called romantic moment. Becky nearly squealed herself hoarse. "The cutest story for the cutest couple!!"

You pulled back slowly, still kneeling, and watched Ukai's reaction closely. He had completely frozen, his expression blank, eyes slightly wide, his hand hovering hesitantly over the spot where you had kissed him. He blinked, as if processing what just happened.

"Yes, just like I remember," Mio commented amusedly, snapping him out of his trance. "Now, come on, everyone! Get your plates before the food gets cold."

The family quickly shifted their focus, buzzing around the table as they began serving themselves, leaving you and Ukai still kneeling in place. You slowly stood, brushing off your clothes, and he followed suit, but he still looked... off.

You raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. "Damn it, I really thought you were going to jerk back from that kiss."

His gaze remained distant, fixed on some vague point on the floor.

You crossed your arms. "But I'm not done. I'm only getting started. And I hope you're ready to dance, Keishin."

Still, no reaction.

Growing suspicious, you stepped closer and nudged his shoulder with your fist. "Bro, I know you hate me, but am I seriously that ugly to you for you to just freeze like that after a kiss on the cheek?"

His entire body stiffened at your words. Then, abruptly, he turned away from you, rubbing the back of his neck, his posture tense. And—oh. Oh? Was that... was he actually blushing? A light dusting of pink had crept up to the tips of his ears, barely noticeable but definitely there.

You smiled. First step to victory. You knew it, he was going to break soon.

"N-No, no, that's not it," he muttered quickly. "I just wasn't expecting it."

You narrowed your eyes. "Then why are you turning away from me?"

He exhaled sharply, as if searching for an escape, before he finally turned back to you with his signature smirk. "I was just thinking about you doing that tap dance," he said smoothly, recovering his composure. "And I gotta say, I can't wait to film it."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. "You're such a jerk." You shoved his face away, a bit more amused than annoyed. With a dramatic sigh, you spun on your heel. "Now, come on, honey bun. Let's go eat. I'm starving."

You walked off toward the table, leaving Ukai standing behind, his smirk slowly fading as he absentmindedly touched his cheek again before following after you.

***

Chapter 26: Too Real

Chapter Text

You arrived at the table, skillfully weaving through the crowd, squeezing yourself between relatives and friends, all chattering loudly, their laughter blending into the warm atmosphere. With practiced efficiency, you picked up a plate, quickly gathering a generous portion of food before maneuvering your way back out of the crowded space. Your heart pounded—not from the exertion, but from the overwhelming nature of the night itself. The constant teasing, the unrelenting attention, and most of all, the fact that Ukai wasn't even close to breaking.

How did you get in this mess already?

You needed air, a moment to yourself where you didn't have to maintain the facade, where you could just breathe. Slipping away unnoticed, you made your way to the quiet refuge of the kitchen. The distant hum of voices dulled as you leaned against the counter, exhaling deeply. Finally, a break.

With a deep inhale, you lifted your chopsticks and took a bite. The moment the food touched your tongue, a wave of warmth and nostalgia washed over you. The flavors were rich, familiar, and impossibly comforting. It was like stepping back in time—back to childhood afternoons spent at the Ukai household, playing until sundown before sitting down for dinner at this very table. It was the kind of taste that wrapped around your heart and squeezed. You'd been so wrapped up in your usual shenanigans that you'd forgotten that you were actually at Ukai's house where you spent countless afternoons and nights, where you ate to your heart's content. How had you gone so long without Mio's cooking? You hadn't even realized how much you missed it.

Lost in your thoughts, you barely registered the presence behind you until a voice cut through the moment.

"So, you and Keishin, huh?"

You jumped slightly, turning to find your grandfather standing there, arms crossed, a knowing smirk playing at his lips. His eyes twinkled with amusement, and you immediately knew where this was going.

"I don't want to hear a word," you warned, sighing heavily as you set your plate down on the counter.

"Why not? This is wonderful news! We should be celebrating this sudden and thrilling development. Last I heard, you two couldn't stand each other, but clearly, I was misinformed." His grin widened, deepening the wrinkles of his well-worn face as his sacarstic words rubbed sault into the wound.

You groaned, rubbing your temple. "Look, there's nothing, you hear me? We still hate each other and nothin's gonna change that. I just got myself into another one of our stupid bets, and now I'm stuck pretending to be in love with him. So stop looking at me like that!" You pointed accusingly at his expression.

He merely shrugged, feigning innocence. "Like what?"

"You know exactly like what," you narrowed your eyes at him.

"I'm just surprised you agreed to this bet in the first place." He hummed thoughtfully. "Faking being together in front of his entire family? What's even the end goal here? You can stop pretending and just date already, you know? You'd be making your, and everyone's life around, easier. "

Your entire body tensed, eyes widening as your face heated up. "I—I... What?! No! I would never! I—I... It just happened, okay? He said I couldn't pretend, and I said I could, and then..." You fumbled for words, tripping over your own explanations. "You know how competitive I am!"

He let out a hearty laugh, shaking his head. "Sure."

Your brows furrowed, irritation growing at his amusement. "What's so funny?" You crossed your arms, narrowing your gaze.

"Nothing, nothing," he said between chuckles, "You just never cease to surprise me."

Your expression softened slightly, confusion overtaking annoyance. "What do you mean?"

His smirk faded into something softer, something almost wistful. "I mean, you really go to great lengths to keep up this denial. It's honestly impressive."

Your nose scrunched. "Denial? About what? I'm not in denial about anything."

His chuckle returned, but this time, it was more of a knowing hum. "Exactly," he said, raising an eyebrow. Then, as he stepped closer, he placed a hand on your shoulder, his grip warm and grounding. "I'm an old man, y/n, you can't fool me. And between you and me," he said in a quieter tone, "As your grandfather and external person in this situation, put that boy out of his misery already before he leaves. He's a good one. You should keep him."

Your breath hitched. Your eyes widened as warmth spread across your face, unbidden and unwanted. "I-I... I don't like him!" you stammered, voice dropping to a whisper as you glanced around to make sure no one overheard. "How many times do I have to say it? We. hate. each. other." You clapped your hands, accentuating every word.

Nekomata merely smiled, utterly unbothered by your outburst. "Sure," he repeated, the same damn smirk never leaving his face. "But next time, at least make it look convincing."

And with that, he turned on his heel and strode out of the kitchen, leaving you fuming in place.

You groaned, pressing your knuckles against the counter in frustration. God, he was so impossibly annoying when he wanted to be! You clenched your fists, your jaw tightening as his words echoed in your mind.

You? In denial? You scoffed. In denial of what, even?

He had no idea what he was talking about. Why couldn't he just accept the fact that you and Ukai hated each other? God, he was just like Mio—equally, if not more, frustrating.

Why couldn't they just leave you and Ukai to hate each other in peace?

Was that really too much to ask?

You groaned again, gripping your plate with renewed determination as you forced yourself to take another bite. You were going to prove your grandfather wrong. You just had to make Ukai break as quickly as possible so you could finally, finally enjoy this damn evening. But how? You'd already kissed him on the cheek. What more could you do?

Your chewing slowed as an idea crept into your mind, unbidden and absolutely horrifying. Your eyes widened in sheer panic at your own thought.

No. Nope. Absolutely not.

You shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut as if that alone could banish the intrusive image. No way. No way in hell would you kiss him on the mouth. You couldn't. It was too much. Even for a tap dance.

But then... what if—

You gulped, the treacherous thought lingering despite your desperate attempts to push it away. If you did kiss him, how would it go? Would he immediately recoil in disgust? Or—

Your breath caught in your throat.

Or would he reciprocate it?

The second that thought materialized, it was like your mind betrayed you entirely. Suddenly, without your consent, vivid, detailed images flooded your brain, playing out like some feverish fantasy you had no control over.

Ukai's strong, muscular frame looming over you, his rough yet steady hand pressing against the small of your back, pulling you flush against him. The other hand cupping your cheek, his fingertips grazing your skin as he tilted your head up just right. His breath warm against your lips, the tension so thick it made your knees weak. And then,

His lips molding against yours, firm but teasing, testing the waters before deepening. His fingers threading through your hair, yours gripping the strands of his messy blond locks, pulling just enough to make him moa—

OH MY GOD.

You snapped your eyes open, violently shaking your head like a madwoman, desperate to banish the utterly heinous thoughts invading your brain.

What the actual hell was wrong with you?!

Your entire face burned, your hands clammy, your pulse a frantic mess beneath your skin. You needed to clear your head—immediately.

Without thinking, you shot up from the counter before you power walked to the bathroom sink, completely forgetting the one in the kitchen, and barely registering the confused looks from the surrounding family members. You turned on the faucet on full blast. The moment the icy water hit your palms, you splashed it onto your face, rubbing furiously as if you could physically scrub away the embarrassment and whatever curse had just taken hold of you.

With a deep, relieved sigh, you turned off the sink and gripped both sides of the counter, inhaling and exhaling in a slow, controlled rhythm. Your reflection in the mirror showed the remnants of your frazzled state—wide eyes, flushed cheeks, and damp strands of hair sticking to your temples. You ran a shaky hand through your hair, exhaling sharply one last time before forcing yourself to get a grip.

Okay. Focus. Get this over with. Fast.

Steeling yourself, you turned on your heel and strode back into the main area where the family was still eating, chatting, and basking in the warm glow of exaggerated fake romance. Your eyes scanned the room, searching for Ukai—

And then you found him.

Your pace slowed as your brows knit together in confusion.

There he was, sitting on one of the couches alone, staring at nothing in particular, his expression distant—completely checked out.

Again?

A strange, unfamiliar feeling twisted in your chest. Ukai never spaced out like that, at least, not in situations like this. He was always present, always grumbling, always making some sarcastic remark. But this?

Something about it felt... off.

You took a step forward, intent on going straight to him, but before you could make it two steps, someone cut into your path.

"Y/N! There you are! I've been searching for you," a distant relative—an aunt? A cousin?—gushed, clapping her hands together with a delighted smile.

You barely heard her.

Your gaze was still locked on Ukai, concern subtly gnawing at you, but you forced yourself to snap back to the conversation, offering a polite nod.

"You know," she continued, eyes gleaming, "I just wanted to say how moved I was by your story. You and Keishin are so lucky to have found each other, and it's so obvious how much love you share." She sighed wistfully, like she was witnessing a real-life romance novel unfold before her eyes.

Your stomach clenched.

You blinked, your automatic response almost slipping out—We hate each other. But just as you parted your lips, you remembered the bet.

So instead, you plastered on the most convincingly fake smile you could muster.

"Thank you," you said, barely present in your own voice. And before she could say anything else, you gave a quick, "If you'll excuse me," and continued toward Ukai, determined to just get it over with.

You arrived at the couch in a single fluid motion, smoothly hopping over the backrest and landing beside Ukai with practiced ease. The sudden jolt of your arrival startled him, and he flinched, a hand flying to his chest.

"Shit," he exhaled sharply, eyes wide with surprise. "Don't scare me like that!"

You paid his reaction no mind, brushing past his complaint as you folded your arms and leaned back against the plush fabric of the couch. Your gaze flicked toward him, scrutinizing every little movement with the keen sharpness of someone who wasn't about to let a mystery slip through their fingers.

"What's going on with you?" you asked, voice edged with both curiosity and mild irritation.

Ukai stiffened slightly, shifting in his seat. "W-What do you mean?" he replied, his voice just a touch too quick, too uncertain.

You narrowed your eyes, catching onto his discomfort like a predator sensing weakness. Without hesitation, you leaned in, your face nearing his, your eyes locked onto his as though daring him to try and hide. He instinctively leaned back, his shoulders pressing into the couch as he gulped, eyes darting away nervously.

Your brows furrowed. That was unexpected.

You pulled back, regarding him with suspicion. "Okay, why are you acting so weird?"

"I'm not!" he blurted, straightening his posture abruptly, almost as if forcing himself into nonchalance. He cleared his throat. "I'm just... I'm tired, okay?"

You scoffed. "Oh? Does that mean you forfeit then?" you challenged, a sly smirk creeping onto your lips.

His head snapped to you in an instant, all hesitation vanishing. "Hell no! I'm not doing that tap dance."

"Good," you said with satisfaction. "Then stop acting so weird already! You've been completely out of it ever since that kiss on the cheek. Was it really that deep? Am I really so repulsive to you?" Your frustration bled into your tone, your arms crossing tightly over your chest.

Ukai's eyes widened in sheer panic. "I-I... that's not- I..." He floundered, words catching in his throat, his cheeks burning.

You seized the opportunity, leaning in once more, your noses barely inches apart. "Then what's wrong?" you pressed, your voice softer but laced with intensity, your narrowed eyes demanding an answer.

His breath hitched, his pupils dilating ever so slightly, his entire body faltering under your unwavering stare. He looked ready to say something, to finally give you some kind of answer—

"They're going to kiss! They're going to kiss!" a small, gleeful voice rang out.

Both of you snapped your heads toward the source of the sound. A tiny cousin—perhaps no older than six—stood not far from the couch, her bright, curious eyes shining with excitement. She bounced slightly on her toes, hands clutched together as she giggled uncontrollably.

The horror hadn't even fully settled in before the real catastrophe struck.

At her words, the entire room—yes, every single family member—dropped what they were doing and turned, their attention snapping onto you both with a level of anticipation that made your stomach drop.

Silence stretched, heavy and expectant.

Ukai met your gaze, eyes mirroring your own overwhelming confusion. What the hell was happening?

You swallowed, feeling the heat creep up your neck. "What's going on...?" you asked timidly, your voice barely above a whisper. The weight of so many eyes on you was suffocating.

Becky giggled, tilting her head as if you'd asked the most ridiculous question in the world. "Well, we're waiting for you to kiss, of course, you silly."

The horror cemented itself in your bones.

Your jaw slackened slightly as you turned back to Ukai, who looked equally as mortified as you felt. This... this was insanity.

"Excuse me?" you choked out, disbelief lacing every syllable.

Another aunt simply beamed. "Don't mind us. Just kiss like you were going to do."

Like you were going to do?! You weren't going to do anything!

Your gaze darted back to Ukai, hoping for some kind of escape route, but his face was a mirror of your own internal panic. His brows furrowed, his lips parted slightly, as if he was running through every possible excuse in his mind but coming up blank.

What were you supposed to do? Could you just refuse? Say no? Walk away? No. That would mean breaking character. And breaking character meant losing. You couldn't lose. 

Oh fuck.

Your heart pounded violently against your ribs, and your palms grew clammy as the silence stretched on, thick with expectation. The family was getting impatient. You could feel it.

With no other option, you inhaled sharply, bracing yourself, and then... you closed your eyes.

Ukai inhaled equally as shakily, and through the dim noise of the room, you heard him do the same.

Slowly, almost agonizingly so, you leaned in.

Your body trembled slightly, your nerves screaming at you. The air between you both grew thinner, warmer, charged with something unspoken. You knew he was moving too—felt the shift of weight, the near-imperceptible tilt of his body towards yours.

Your pulse roared in your ears. This was insane. They were all insane.

And then, ever so slowly, your lips made contact.

As soon as your lips met his, a shiver raced down your spine, sending ripples of something unrecognizable through your entire body. His lips were soft—softer than you had ever expected, warm and slightly trembling against your own. At first, neither of you moved, frozen in place like statues caught in a moment of hesitation. A quiet, almost imperceptible hush settled over the room, the air thick with something heavy, something charged.

You were horrified. Utterly horrified. Were you really doing this right now? 

Then, from behind, a faint sigh of disappointment reached your ears. Shit. Were they catching on? Was the performance not convincing enough? Your mind reeled with panic. You needed to sell it, to make them believe. If there was ever a moment to prove you could commit to this act, it was now. Your heart pounded in your chest, a deafening drumbeat against your ribs. You were already here, already locked in this impossible situation—might as well see it through.

Fucked for fucked, you were determined to win.

Summoning every ounce of resolve, your fingers twitched before moving instinctively, almost on their own. Your hand lifted from where it rested on your knee, trailing through the air in slow, deliberate movements until your palm cupped his cheek. His skin was warm beneath your touch, the faintest trace of stubble grazing against your fingers. Then, with a steadying inhale, you deepened the kiss, adding movement, pressing into him with intention.

Ukai stiffened ever so slightly beneath your touch. He hadn't expected that. His whole body tensed, his shoulders rising as if bracing himself. This had to be it—this had to be the moment he cracked, the moment he jerked away and admitted defeat. You could feel the slight tremble in him, the way his breath hitched ever so slightly.

But then, just when you thought you had him cornered, his hand lifted to overlap yours, his calloused fingers brushing against your skin. A shiver of electricity shot down your spine. And then, impossibly, he suddnely responded— his face pushing into yours, deepening the kiss further, his lips moving against yours with an intensity that sent your thoughts spiraling.

It was too much. Too real.

A sharp moan slipped from your lips before you could stop it, so quiet, so delicate that it was meant for his ears only. But the sound changed everything. As soon as it escaped, Ukai suddenly jerked back, his eyes wide, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths.

Your hand shot up to your mouth in horror. What had you done?

A thick, heavy silence settled over the room, suffocating, absolute. You didn't dare look anywhere but at the man in front of you, at the way his face had gone impossibly red, at the way his fingers curled into fists at his sides.

Had he been disgusted? Was he mortified like you? Would he break character?

His gaze flickered from you to his family, back and forth, as if his mind was caught in an inescapable loop. His breathing was still erratic, his expression unreadable. And then, in a voice so quiet it was almost lost in the thick, suffocating air, he whispered, "I can't..."

Your brows furrowed in confusion, your heart lurching at the raw vulnerability in his voice. "What?" you whispered back, barely able to find your own breath.

He shook his head, running a hand through his hair as he pushed himself up from the couch, standing so abruptly it made your head spin. "I-I can't do it... You win, okay? I'm done."

The entire family collectively stilled, confused murmurs rippling through the room.

"W-Win? What are you talking about, Keishin?" Becky stepped forward, her voice laced with concern.

"Uh-oh..." Nekomata muttered under his breath, his perceptive gaze flitting between the two of you, watching as the scene unraveled before him.

Ukai swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing as he stared at the floor, his gaze flickering between you and the expectant faces of his family. The tension in the air was unbearable, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on you both.

What the hell had just happened?

 "Keishin, what does that mean?" Becky asked again, her voice softer this time, laced with confusion and something dangerously close to concern.

Ukai inhaled sharply, his breaths ragged, his lungs feeling too tight in his chest. His fingers twitched as he clenched his fists at his sides. He wasn't sure if it was frustration, exhaustion, or a terrifying mix of both, but before he could stop himself, the words tumbled out.

"It means that Y/N and I aren't fucking dating!" he blurted, his voice louder than he intended. The reaction was instantaneous. Gasps rippled through the room like a wave, every family member collectively inhaling as if his confession had physically knocked the air out of them. Your eyes went wide, the reality of the situation slamming into you like a freight train. Oh shit.

But Ukai wasn't done.

"We aren't together! We aren't a thing! We aren't even friends! We hate each other!" His voice cracked slightly as the words burst forth, raw and unfiltered. Becky's eyes widened, her hand flying to her mouth in shock. The room was deathly still, the charged tension pressing down on everyone like a weight too heavy to bear.

You felt like you were drowning, the thick atmosphere suffocating you. This—this had been a terrible idea from the start.

"B-But we thought—" Becky started, hesitant, but Ukai was quick to cut her off.

"Well, you thought wrong!" He turned abruptly, facing his mother, his expression a whirlwind of frustration and something deeper—something pained. "Mom lied to you."

All eyes shifted to Mio, who stood still, caught in the crossfire, her lips pressing into a thin, guilty smile. "I mean... I didn't lie, technically—" she began, her voice feigning innocence, but Ukai wasn't having it.

"Yes, you did!" His voice was sharp now, strained. "How many times do I have to tell you that Y/N and I aren't together?" His gaze flickered to you for the briefest moment, and in that split second, something flashed across his face—something you couldn't quite place. But then his jaw clenched, his shoulders tensed, and he turned away, his voice lowering. "And never will."

Your breath caught. The room had been silent before, but now, it was deafening.

Becky hesitated before speaking, her voice cautious. "Why would you lie to us about it then?"

"Because you guys are crazy!" Ukai exploded, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "I mean, who asks two people to kiss in front of them?! This is insane!"

The family shifted uncomfortably, eyes darting away as if suddenly realizing the absurdity of their actions. Someone coughed awkwardly in the back.

Ukai let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. "My entire life, all you've ever done is pressure me—pressure me to settle down, to get married, to have kids. I graduated high school and didn't even have time to breathe before I was helping out with the store, the farm—everything. And I never once complained. I just did it. Because what else could I do? My mom gave me everything, and I owed her at least that much. But..." He hesitated, swallowing hard. "But the problem is, the longer you spend doing things for other people, the more you forget how to do things for yourself. And now, I think it's too late."

A heavy silence followed his words, but Ukai wasn't finished.

"I still tried," he continued, his voice quieter now, but no less intense. "I tried to make it work, to be here, to do everything. And what do I get? Every single family gathering, I'm harassed with the same god damn questions! When am I going to settle down? When am I going to start a family? Gosh, I am so tired of living my life the way other people want me to. When am I going to be able to live the life I want?! When am I going to get out of here and actually see the world?!"

His breathing was uneven, his chest rising and falling erratically. His hands trembled slightly at his sides, but he clenched them into fists, willing himself to calm down.

"At least now, with coaching, I have something that's mine," he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "Something I actually love. Something that makes me feel like I'm more than just a damn convenience store clerk. And even then, you just can't help but interfere. You can't help but try to control every single thing, even my personal life."

He exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face, before his gaze flickered to you once more. This time, his expression was unreadable.

You sat frozen, unable to tear your eyes away from him. You had never seen him like this before. Not once. He always had a snarky comment, a cocky smirk, an attitude that told everyone he was in control. But now? Now, he looked exhausted. Frustrated. Vulnerable.

He blinked a few times, as if realizing he had said too much, and quickly looked away. "I-I... I need a cigarette," he muttered, already reaching into his pocket. "Or ten."

And just like that, he turned on his heel and walked out of the living room, disappearing down the hall.

No one spoke. No one moved. The silence he left behind was suffocating, thick with the weight of his words.

And you... you just sat there, your heart hammering against your ribcage, unsure of what to say, what to feel, or how the hell you were supposed to move forward from this moment.

***

 

 

Chapter 27: Confusing

Chapter Text



The silence that followed was thick, heavy, almost suffocating. The remnants of Ukai's outburst still lingered in the air, his words echoing in your mind as if they had been burned into your memory. No one dared to speak at first, the weight of his frustration settling over the entire room like an oppressive fog.

Mio was the first to break the silence. She cleared her throat softly, forcing a small, awkward chuckle that barely masked the sadness laced beneath it.

"Well, that was... uhm... certainly informative," she murmured, glancing around the room at the stunned expressions of the family members who remained. She sighed heavily, rubbing her temple before straightening her shoulders. "I guess... the party's over, everyone."

With that, she busied herself by picking up the empty plates and glasses scattered across the table, giving everyone an excuse to move. The family members, still shifting awkwardly, exchanged glances, their postures stiff as they muttered half-hearted agreements. Coats were pulled off the backs of chairs, murmured goodbyes were exchanged, and the soft rustling of fabric and shuffling feet filled the space as they made their way toward the front door.

You stayed seated on the couch, still frozen in place, fingers hovering near your lips as your mind raced. It felt impossible to process everything that had just happened. Your heart pounded in your ears, drowning out the distant murmurs of complaint coming from the entryway where the family clustered, likely throwing their grievances at Mio, who muttered apologies in return.

Who did they think they were?

Ukai had been right—they were crazy. But even if they had been out of line, even if this entire night had been a chaotic disaster, it still didn't explain him. His reaction. His crash out. His frustration. The kiss.

Had it been too much for him? Had that been the breaking point? Yes. It had to be. After all, who would willingly stand to kiss someone they hated?

You had certainly hated that kiss...

You had hated it... right?

It hadn't been good... it hadn't sent a shiver down your spine, hadn't made your breath hitch, hadn't made your fingers involuntarily tighten their grip against the fabric of your clothes.

You had hated it...

Hadn't you?

Your thoughts kept circling, looping in on themselves in a spiral of confusion and frustration. The way he had suddenly deepened the kiss, the tremble of his hand against your skin, the desperate way his lips had pressed against yours as if—

No. You shook your head violently, trying to dispel the memory, trying to erase the phantom feeling of his lips still lingering against yours.

He had just been acting. Just like you. You had both hated it.

You repeated it again and again, as if saying it enough times would make it true.

A gentle voice pulled you from your thoughts.

"Sweetie, are you alright?"

You blinked, the hazy fog in your mind slowly lifting as you turned to see Mio leaning over the back of the couch, concern etched deep into her features. Her warm, familiar eyes searched your face, her brow furrowed slightly.

You swallowed, forcing your expression into something neutral. "I-uh... y-yeah, yeah, I'm fine," you mumbled, clearing your throat as if that would somehow clear the lingering emotions stuck there. "I'm just... It's been a weird night."

Mio let out a soft chuckle, though it lacked her usual warmth. "Tell me about it."

She straightened up, moving toward the table where abandoned dishes still sat. The moment she mentioned it, you noticed for the first time just how tense she looked, her movements slightly sluggish, her lips pressed into a thin line.

"The entire family's pretty angry now," she admitted, stacking plates with careful precision, though her hands trembled ever so slightly.

You frowned, pushing yourself off the couch. "Oh, let me help you with this. You shouldn't clean up alone." Without waiting for a response, you stepped forward, gathering the remaining dishes before following her into the kitchen.

The room was quieter here, the sounds of the family still murmuring in the entryway muffled by the walls. Mio worked at the sink, running water over the plates, but her shoulders were stiff, her face partially turned away from you.

Something was wrong.

You leaned against the counter, watching her carefully before finally asking, "Why do you care so much about what they think?"

She hesitated. Just for a moment. But that moment was enough to tell you that she did care—more than she probably should.

Her eyes flickered toward you briefly before she turned her gaze back to the sink. Her voice, when she spoke, was soft. "It's complicated, honey."

She continued scrubbing the plate in her hands, though her movements had slowed, almost as if she was buying herself time to find the right words.

"We've always been a close family. But after seeing Keishin tonight... maybe a bit too close," she admitted, letting out a small sigh. "I just... I only wanted what was best for him. I've always wanted him to do the things he loved, but with the store, the farm... life got in the way. And he had to abandon everything to help us. I know that."

Her voice wavered slightly, her grip on the plate tightening.

"Besides, I'm getting old, sweetie. And since he didn't get the chance to do what he truly desired, I at least wanted to make sure my Keishin was happy with the one person he truly loved. That he was taken care of for when I'm not here anymore. But I guess by involving myself so much, I ruined it for him..."

Her voice cracked on the last word.

You straightened, watching as her shoulders trembled slightly.

"I didn't realize how much was too much... and now, I don't know how to fix it." A single tear slipped down her cheek as her hands faltered, the plate slipping from her fingers and clattering into the sink.

Your heart clenched at the raw emotion in her voice, the weight of her words settling deep within you. Without hesitation, you stepped closer, the warmth of your palm pressing gently against her shoulder in a comforting touch.

"Don't worry, okay?" Your voice was soft, reassuring. "Even if you were a bit too much—" you let out a light chuckle, attempting to bring some levity to the moment—"you only ever had his best interests at heart. You tried your best, and that's what really matters." You met her gaze, eyes filled with sincerity. "Keishin will come around once he's had time to calm down. I have no doubts about that."

Mio inhaled shakily, her lips parting as if to say something before exhaling, relief evident in the slight softening of her shoulders. Then, her expression shifted, a gentle fondness overtaking her features.

"He's very lucky to have a mother like you, Mio." Your voice lowered, almost a whisper, but the sentiment was unwavering.

A sharp breath left her lips before she suddenly wrapped her arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. The warmth of it enveloped you, the scent of home lingering in her sweater, the kind of comfort you hadn't realized you'd missed so deeply.

"Oh, Y/N," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. "We're the ones who are lucky to have you."

Her arms tightened, as if trying to make up for all the years that had passed without this moment. You felt your chest tighten as well, the lump forming in your throat making it difficult to swallow.

"I've always wanted a daughter, ever since I was a little girl," she confessed, her voice trembling but steady in its honesty. "And even though I'm more than happy with my son..." She pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes, her own shimmering with unshed tears. "I feel like I got her with you."

A small, teary smile broke through your lips, your vision blurring slightly as the emotion swelled within you. Mio's hand came up to cup your cheek, her thumb brushing against your skin with the utmost tenderness before her smile faded.

"You know," she continued, voice thick with nostalgia, "I didn't tell you about this when I saw you the other but, I was so heartbroken when you left. Even if you made the right decision to do so." She let out a bittersweet chuckle, shaking her head lightly. "I mean, you truly did wonders, my dear, and I'm so happy you had the chance to do all of this."

A pause. A moment of hesitation before she admitted, "But I would be lying if I said I hadn't missed you every single day."

Your breath hitched, the weight of her words pressing against your chest. You opened your mouth, but no words came out—not yet. Instead, Mio turned away for a moment, stepping toward a nearby drawer and pulling it open.

"I watched every single one of your matches," she said, a small, proud smile gracing her lips. "And I kept all the articles written about you."

She pulled out a stack of carefully cut-out clippings, bound together in an almost loving manner, and handed them to you. Your fingers ghosted over the pages, recognition flashing in your eyes. Every achievement, every milestone—it was all here, meticulously saved, cherished.

"I am truly so proud of you, y/n," she whispered.

The tears finally spilled, a single drop trailing down your cheek as you looked up at her, overwhelmed by emotion. You placed the articles down on the counter before stepping forward, reaching for her hand.

"I'm so sorry, Mio... I'm sorry I didn't reach out to you all this time away," you said, your voice thick with regret. "After everything that happened between Keishin and me... it was just so hard," You exhaled shakily, shaking your head. "I was stupid to cut contact, but I realize how wrong I was." You squeezed tighter. "Mio, you don't know how I'm so happy to see you again."

You pulled her into another embrace, this one even tighter than the last.

"You can't imagine how happy I am too, sweetheart," she murmured, holding onto you as if she never wanted to let go.

For a while, neither of you spoke, simply soaking in the moment. When you finally pulled away, you wiped at your damp cheeks, attempting to compose yourself. You were ready to leave the kitchen, to retrieve your sleeping grandfather from the couch and head out. But just as you opened your mouth to sy goodbye, Mio's voice stopped you in your tracks.

"But you know," she began, her tone softer now, almost hesitant, "I wasn't the one who was the most heartbroken when you left."

Your steps faltered, confusion flickering across your face as you turned back to her. "What do you mean?"

She exhaled, a knowing yet solemn expression settling on her face. "Keishin was devastated after you left. The truth is... he had been devastated ever since your fight. But your departure truly broke him."

Your brows furrowed, your pulse quickening ever so slightly. "W-What do you mean?" Your voice was hesitant, uncertain. "Mio, after the fight, it was clear that we wanted nothing to do with each other. He hated me, just like... just like I hated him."

A silence hung between you for a moment before Mio gently shook her head.

"Sure, maybe you had a fight," she said softly, "but honey, you were so close. You don't forget about someone that close overnight. And in Keishin's case... he never stopped thinking about you. He couldn't."

You stood frozen, her words echoing in your mind.

"I-I..." You swallowed thickly, struggling to process it. "It's not like I forgot about him either..." Your voice was barely above a whisper, as if admitting it was some kind of betrayal. "He had been my best friend for years, after all. It was really hard to accept that he did what he did to me."

Your gaze dropped to the floor, memories flooding your mind like waves crashing against the shore.

Mio simply watched you, the silence stretching between you both. And in that silence, something shifted—something you weren't quite ready to face yet.

The air in the kitchen felt heavy, thick with unspoken truths and old wounds reopened. Mio's voice was gentle yet unwavering as she spoke, each word settling over you like a blanket too warm to push away.

"Sweetie, in high school before your big fight, Keishin loved you. You know that, right?" Her words, though soft, landed like a punch to the gut.

Your brows furrowed, confusion knitting between them as you tried to process what she'd just said. Your lips parted, the words hesitant as they left your tongue. "I—I mean, yeah, of course we loved each other. We were best friends—"

But she cut you off before you could even finish. "No, honey. You're not hearing me. Keishin loved you."

A strange, unfamiliar chill ran down your spine. Your breath hitched involuntarily. The way she said it—so sure, so absolute—made your heart pound against your ribs, demanding to be acknowledged.

"As in..." You trailed off, unable to finish the thought yourself, too afraid of where it might lead.

Mio didn't hesitate. "As in, he was in love with you, Y/n."

Silence. Deafening silence. The kind that swallows every thought, every coherent response, and leaves only the sound of your own heartbeat thundering in your ears. Your eyes widened as you stared at her, your hands gripping the edge of the counter as if it were the only thing keeping you grounded.

Keishin had been in love with you?

Back then, when you'd secretly harbored those same feelings? When you had agonized over every lingering glance, every fleeting touch, every moment spent too close yet not close enough? When you had spent nights staring at the ceiling, heart twisting at the mere thought of him? He had been feeling the same all along?

Your voice came out barely above a whisper, raw and uncertain. "I—I... What? Are you sure?"

Mio let out a soft chuckle, crossing her arms with the confidence only a mother could have. "Of course I am. I'm his mother," Then, she leaned in slightly, her sharp gaze pinning you in place. "Just like I know you were in love with him too back then."

Your breath caught in your throat.

The words felt like an arrow to the chest, hitting a target you thought you'd buried beneath years of resentment and carefully constructed distance. You took a step back instinctively, shaking your head. "H-How did you—"

She laughed again, this time with an almost amused fondness. "Oh, sweetie, I wasn't born yesterday. Besides, I know you by heart too, and I could tell you had feelings for him."

You swallowed, feeling strangely exposed, vulnerable in a way you hadn't been in years. 

"Don't look so shocked. You weren't that good at hiding it either," she added with a knowing smile.

Your head dipped, eyes casting downward as you exhaled a long, trembling breath. "You're right," you admitted, voice barely audible. "I did... have feelings for him back then. But after the whole incident..." You hesitated, wrapping your arms around yourself like a shield. "Those feelings are long gone... Besides, we've been hating each other for so long, Mio. It could never go back to the way it was between us. It's been eight years. Our relationship is too broken for that."

Mio's expression softened. She reached forward, placing a gentle finger under your chin, tilting your face up so that your eyes met hers. "Y/n, do you still believe, deep inside your heart, that Keishin tried to sabotage your entire career?"

Your breath hitched again. That question hung between you both, heavy and undeniable. Your lips parted, but nothing came out.

Did you? Did you truly, wholeheartedly still believe that?

You took a small step back, your voice shaking. "I-I... I don't know what I believe anymore."

Mio exhaled, nodding as if she'd expected that response. "It's never too late to make amends, sweetie. Time passed, and of course you've both changed, but even if you have old wounds, it doesn't mean your relationship can't be somewhat fixed. You can still be friends, or at least forgive each other."

Her words lingered in your mind as she turned back to the sink, resuming her task as if she hadn't just shifted the foundation of your entire world.

You stood there for a long moment, lost in thought, before sighing. "Thank you for tonight, Mio. The food was delicious."

She smiled warmly, her eyes twinkling with an affection that made your chest tighten. "You're welcome anytime, my dear."

You turned and walked toward the living room, where your grandfather remained asleep on the couch, completely undisturbed by the night's chaos. You lightly smiled as you approached him, reaching out to gently shake him awake but just as you were about to touch him, your hand suddenly froze, hovering in midair.

Your fingers trembled slightly, the conversation replaying in your mind over and over like a broken record.

Keishin had been in love with you. Was that true or was it another of Mio's lies?

Your gaze flickered toward the hallway, toward the closed door leading to his room. Your hand clenched at your side, your breath unsteady. Then, with a quiet sigh, you stepped away from your grandfather and, before you could change your mind, turned on your heel.

Your footsteps were near silent as you moved toward Ukai's room. You didn't know what was compelling you to walk that way but before you knew it, you arrived at the door, hesitating as your hand hovered above the handle. The weight of the evening sat heavy on your chest, your heartbeat a steady pounding in your ears. Taking a deep breath, you finally pushed the door open, letting it swing gently inward. The room was dark, shadows stretching across the floor, but your eyes were drawn to the source of the soft movement ahead.

The balcony door stood ajar, the night air drifting through, carrying the scent of tobacco and crisp evening wind. The sheer blue curtains moved slightly, caught in the slow, rhythmic dance of the breeze. Outside, bathed in the silver glow of the moon, Ukai sat on the wooden floor, his back facing you. The faint orange light of his cigarette flickered in the dim light, rolling idly between his fingers, the motion absentminded, almost hypnotic. At his feet, a tall bottle of vodka rested against the balcony railing, barely opened, and beside it, an ashtray cluttered with the remains of at least five cigarettes.

Something about the sight made your heart clench, though you couldn't quite place why. The way he sat there, shoulders hunched, exhaling smoke into the open air, looking at nothing in particular—it was so unlike the usual Ukai. You swallowed, steadying your breath before stepping forward, the sound of your presence barely a whisper against the wooden floor.

"If you're here to talk to me about y/n, I'm not interested, Mom." His voice was rough, tired, but resigned, as if he had already fought this battle a hundred times in his head. He didn't turn, didn't move—just continued to stare at the horizon, waiting for the inevitable lecture.

You took another step forward, crossing the threshold onto the balcony. "Are you interested in talking to y/n, then?"

At your words, he stiffened slightly before turning his head just enough to glance over his shoulder. His hazel eyes met yours, widening slightly in surprise before narrowing again. He blinked a few times, as if trying to make sure he wasn't imagining things, before letting out a slow exhale and looking away.

"W-What are you doing here?" he asked, raising the cigarette to his lips and taking a long, deliberate drag.

"You know smoking kills, right?" You tilted your head, watching him closely.

He let out a dry chuckle, exhaling a thin stream of smoke into the night air. "Did you really come all the way here just to tell me that? I didn't know you cared that much."

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "No, by all means, continue. That way, I'll win the biggest race of all."

He frowned slightly, glancing at you in confusion. "What?"

You leaned in slightly, a teasing smirk playing on your lips. "I'll outlive you."

Caught off guard, he let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "You never lose sight of north."

"What can I say?" You grinned. "I'm competitive."

He nodded, flicking the ashes from his cigarette. "Yeah, I know that better than anyone," He muttered with a low voice as he softly smiled. His gaze flickered to the smoldering stick in his hand before he held it out to you. "Wanna even our odds?"

You stared at the cigarette, the offer hanging between you like an unspoken challenge. Old instincts screamed at you to refuse, to remind him that you weren't allowed with your training. But then, a colder, more distant part of you reminded you that none of that mattered anymore. You weren't an athlete anymore. Those days were long gone.

With a brief hesitation, you took it, your fingers brushing against his in the exchange. You held it awkwardly between your fingers, feeling its unfamiliar weight. "How do you do it?"

Ukai exhaled a quiet laugh, the sound almost nostalgic. "It's pretty easy," he said, bringing his own cigarette to his lips and demonstrating. "You just inhale it deeply, directly into your lungs not in your mouth. And then, when the smoke is inside, you only have to exhale."

You applied the advice and mimicked his actions, hesitantly bringing the cigarette to your lips and inhaling. Immediately, your lungs rejected the foreign substance, burning as you erupted into a violent coughing fit. Ukai chuckled, shaking his head as he watched you struggle.

"God, it's horrible," you managed between coughs, shoving the cigarette back into his hand.

He smirked, taking another drag with ease. "Yeah, it's not easy the first time. But then, you get used to it. And before you know it, you start craving it."

You had finally recovered from your coughing fit, still slightly breathless. "Why'd you start in the first place? You didn't smoke back in high school."

Ukai's smirk faded slightly, his expression growing distant. He turned his gaze back to the cityscape, the soft glow of distant streetlights reflecting in his tired eyes. For a moment, he said nothing, letting the silence settle between you like a fragile thing.

"I started not long after you left," he finally admitted, his voice quieter now.

You raised an eyebrow but didn't interrupt. You let him speak.

"Like you probably heard earlier, I had to take on responsibilities pretty quickly. The store, the farm, everything. And to relieve stress, well, I took on smoking." He turned to you, the corner of his mouth lifting in a self-deprecating smirk. "I know, I know—stupid decision. But it does relieve stress. A little."

Your gaze flickered to the half-full bottle of vodka sitting at his feet, glistening under the moonlight. You straightened slightly, pointing at it. "And that? To relieve stress also?" you asked, voice light with feigned amusement, though curiosity tugged at the edges of your words.

Ukai followed your gaze, his fingers still loosely gripping the cigarette between them. He let out a quiet chuckle, low and tired, before he bent down to pick up the bottle. He twisted it in his grip, watching the way the liquid swirled lazily inside. "Yup," he finally said, popping the cap off with ease. "Works wonders when my family gets on my nerves."

He tilted his head slightly, flicking his eyes toward you as he raised the bottle in offering. "Care for some?"

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head slightly before relenting. "After the night we just had? Gladly." Reaching out, you took the bottle from his hand, feeling the coolness of the glass against your palm. Bringing it to your lips, you took a deep sip, the familiar burn trailing down your throat, leaving warmth in its wake. You grimaced slightly but swallowed it down before passing the bottle back to him. Ukai took it without hesitation, tipping it back for a long swig before lowering it with a satisfied sigh.

"Right," he exhaled, leaning his head back against the railing. "I almost forgot. I guess I owe you and all our students a tap dance."

He took another sip before holding the bottle out for you again. You accepted it, fingers brushing briefly against his before you pulled away, bringing it once more to your lips. But this time, as he swallowed his own drink, your gaze dropped slightly, thoughts stirring restlessly in your mind.

"You... you don't have to do it.." you muttered, lowering the bottle from your lips.

Ukai turned to you, brow arching slightly.

"I mean, this entire bet was stupid anyway. What were we even thinking?" You let out a nervous laugh, a breath of air that barely carried any humor. "Out of all the crazy and impulsive bets we made, this one takes the cake." You softly laughed but Ukai stayed still, his gaze pensive.

Seing his reaction, you sighed as you shifted slightly, fingers tapping against the glass in your grasp. "Look, I'm sorry for... uhm... for the—" Your words caught in your throat, the weight of them suddenly unbearable. You averted your gaze, the embarrassment creeping up your neck. "You know..."

Ukai stiffened beside you, his own breath hitching as the realization sank in. His eyes widened for a fraction of a second before he turned away, clearing his throat. "R-Right... that," he muttered, followed by a short, nervous laugh. He brought the bottle back to his lips, taking another drink as if to wash away the awkwardness.

You forced a small chuckle, waving your hand dismissively. "Let's just forget it ever happened. It was stupid."

Ukai's gaze flickered toward you before quickly darting away again. His fingers tapped lightly against the bottle, his grip tightening ever so slightly. "R-Right, yeah, yeah... it was..." His voice dipped lower, the words barely above a whisper. "...stupid."

Your eyes lingered on him, watching the way his expression had shifted, the usual sharpness dulled by something unreadable. Why was he like this? Why wasn't he snapping back to his usual self, brushing things off with a smirk or a sarcastic remark? You thought that dismissing the entire ordeal would bring back the usual banter, but instead, the weight between you only seemed to grow heavier.

Was he really that disgusted? Maybe his mom was wrong.

Lifting the bottle once more, you took a longer sip, the alcohol burning through the tension that coiled in your chest. The champagne from earlier had already begun to take its toll, a warmth settling into your limbs, making your thoughts looser, more reckless.

"How about we forget this entire night even happened and go right back to hating each other then?" you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

Ukai slowly turned to you, his expression unreadable, but something flickered behind his eyes. "What?"

You let out a small scoff, shaking your head. "Well, you've been completely out of it ever since the bet and I can tell something's troubling you. I know you probably don't want to talk about it with me so... if you prefer, we can just forget about all of this and go back to the way it was."

For a moment, he just looked at you, something indecipherable in his gaze. Then, he inhaled from his cigarette, the embers briefly glowing in the dim light. "The way it was, huh?"

"Right back to hating each other like normal," you affirmed.

But Ukai shook his head as he exhaled, the smoke curling between you like a ghost of old memories. "That's not the real way it was to me."

His voice was so low, almost like a confession to himself rather than to you that you didn't hear it You blinked, confusion settling in. "What?"

He shook his head again, this time more dismissively. "Nothing," he murmured, falling back into silence.

You sighed, rubbing a hand over your face. "Look, you're all worked up about something, I can see it and I can't believe I'm saying this, but... do you wanna talk about it?"

His eyes locked onto yours then, searching, as if trying to decide whether you meant it or not. His lips parted slightly before pressing together again, hesitation gripping him. It took a moment before he finally spoke, voice quiet, uncertain.

"I just..." He looked away, as though the words pained him. "Why did you never tell me that you had a brother?"

Your eyes slightly widened at the question. You certainly hadn't expected that.

You couldn't help but laugh at the question, the sound slipping out before you even realized it. Was that really what had been bothering him this whole time? That was the reason he'd been so out of it? It wasn't about the kiss? You covered your mouth, trying to stifle the laughter, but it was no use.

Ukai turned to you with a slight pout, his brows knitting together in irritation. "Why are you laughing?" he asked, his voice edged with annoyance.

You waved a hand dismissively as you tried to regain control of yourself. "Nothing, I just..." You exhaled sharply, shaking your head before fixing him with a teasing look. "If you'd let me finish instead of jumping to your own conclusions the other day, maybe I could've told you that I didn't even know I had a brother until the day before, you dimwit."

His expression shifted in an instant, confusion replacing his irritation. He raised an eyebrow. "The day before? What do you mean?"

You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you leaned back slightly. "Gosh, where do I even start? Do you want the short version or the long version?"

Ukai considered this for a moment before shrugging. "Well, we're already here, we have booze, and we have the entire night ahead of us. Might as well get the whole version." He gestured with his arm toward the near-empty bottle between you.

You huffed a soft chuckle. "Fine, long version it is. But I'm gonna need more alcohol to get me through it." Without hesitation, you picked up the bottle, tilting it back to take another sip, the burn of the vodka sliding down your throat.

Ukai shifted his position beside you, leaning back slightly against the cool metal bars of the balcony railing. He lighted a new cigarette, the smoke curling lazily into the night air. He was listening—really listening—as you began to speak.

You started from the beginning, recounting the first unexpected phone call from your mother, the abrupt visit, and the earth-shattering revelation about this brother you never knew existed. You told him about going to the bar after, where you saw him. Then, you moved on to the moment you accidentally met your brother, the jarring realization, and the sheer panic that had sent you running. You detailed the confrontation with your mother when you returned to pick up your grandpa, how you'd forced her to finally tell Haru the truth.

Ukai never once interrupted. He just sat there, absorbing every word, his focus solely on you. The way his eyes stayed trained on you made you feel oddly vulnerable, but for some reason, it didn't make you want to stop talking.

"And then, well, you know the rest. I got a call from Haru, and I rushed to the store." You finally finished with a small hiccup, your head tilting slightly at the realization. Oops. You were definitely very drunk now. The bottle between you was nearly empty, and the warmth coursing through your veins confirmed just how much you'd had.

Ukai sat in silence for a long moment, as if processing everything he'd just heard. His hands were clasped together, resting just below his nose, his fingers tapping lightly as he mulled over your words. Then, after a few slow blinks, he shifted his position and sighed.

"I-I... God, I can't believe your mom would do something like this. I mean, to just call you after all these years and drop this on you? That's just crazy." His voice carried a mix of disbelief and something else—something softer, almost like concern.

You let out a dry chuckle as you took the last sip from the bottle, the burn of the vodka numbing some of the emotions that threatened to surface. "Yeah, not the funnest experience I've had, that's for sure." You let out a small laugh, your head already starting to spin, though there was no real humor behind it. Ukai watched you for a beat before letting out a soft chuckle of his own.

But as the laughter died down, you pulled your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them as you rested your chin atop them. Your voice came out quieter this time. "But at least something better than good came out of it."

Ukai stopped laughing entirely. His body tensed ever so slightly, sensing the shift in your tone. "What do you mean?"

You didn't look at him as you spoke. "Now, I know what it feels like to have a family."

For a moment, there was only silence. You didn't see it, but Ukai's eyes widened just slightly at your words. He stared at you, studying the way you curled into yourself as if making yourself smaller. As if the weight of the past few days had finally settled onto your shoulders.

After a few beats, you lifted your head with a small, knowing smile. "I know what you're thinking, Keishin. I didn't forget about your mom, your grandpa, or mine. What I meant to say was, now I know what it feels like to care for someone like a sibling." You said before you hiccuped.

Ukai remained silent, but his mind was racing. His grip on his now finished cigarette tightened slightly as his thoughts spiraled. If you didn't know what that felt like before now, then... you'd never considered him as a sibling when you were younger? Then what had you seen him as?

A bit nervous, he let out a deep and uneven sigh, his head spinning, as he pulled a cigarette from the crumpled pack in his pocket, his fingers fumbling slightly as he retrieved his lighter. He clicked it once, twice, but the tiny flame refused to stay steady, flickering weakly before extinguishing. His brows furrowed at his sluggish movements, and he glanced at the empty bottle beside him. His eyes widened slightly, as if just now registering that the two of you had drained it completely. No wonder his hands felt heavy, his limbs sluggish.

"Need some help with that?" Your voice, soft yet drunkily teasing, cut through the quiet night air, and before he could react, you were already moving closer.

Ukai barely had time to swallow the sudden lump in his throat as you crawled toward him, your presence drawing near enough that he could make out every detail under the moonlight—the way your lashes framed your half-lidded eyes, the way the dim light caught the sheen of sweat on your flushed, because of the vodka, skin.

His Adam's apple bobbed as he gulped, unsure if it was from the alcohol or the proximity.

Before he could protest, you plucked the lighter from his unsteady grasp and a giggle, your fingers briefly brushing against his. A shiver ran down his spine at the fleeting contact.

As you struggled to ignite the flame, Ukai found himself unable to look away. His focus drifted entirely from the cigarette at his lips to the determined set of your jaw, the furrow of your brows, the way your lips parted slightly in concentration. But then he noticed the slight tremor in your hands. Your movements, though confident, were just as clumsy as his. And realisation hit.

You were as drunk, if not more, than he was.

At last, the lighter finally flickered to life, casting a brief glow on your face. You tilted your head up, your eyes meeting his through the thin veil of smoke.

"You're supposed to inhale," you murmured, voice soft yet firm.

Ukai barely registered your words. His heart pounded so hard it echoed in his ears, drowning out rational thought.

"I-I..." The unfinished sentence dangled between you both, his cigarette barely hanging onto the corner of his lips.

You sighed, shaking your head slightly before taking matters into your own hands. Without hesitation, you took the cigarette from his lips and brought in to yours, holding it up to the flame, and inhaled deeply. The cherry glowed bright as you took in the smoke, your lips parting slightly as you exhaled a slow, deliberate breath in his direction. The haze curled between you, a smoky veil that only made the moment feel heavier, more charged.

Almost like with practiced ease, you pressed the cigarette back into his mouth. "There."

Ukai remained frozen, his entire body locked in place until the sensation of the filter against his lips snapped him back. He blinked rapidly before straightening, lifting the cigarette between his fingers and finally taking a slow drag as he tried to regain some composure.

You had shifted onto your knees, still close enough that he could feel the warmth of your body against the cool night air.

He exhaled. "I thought inhaling cigarette was horrible."

A soft chuckle escaped you, your lips curving into a lazy, amused smile. "Being drunk has its perks."

Ukai found himself laughing too, a short, breathy sound. "I guess you're right," He cast a glance at the empty bottle, shaking his head slightly before picking it up. "Still, I can't believe we managed to finish a two-liter bottle. We're definitely gonna die." He chuckled, half-jokingly.

You smirked, giving a half-hearted shrug. "Dying's a bit exaggerated, but a blackout? That's a guarantee. Perfect, considering everything that happened tonight. We both want to forget, right?"

At that, Ukai's gaze dropped to his lap, his head swimming—not just from the alcohol, but from the weight of your words. "Forget, huh?" he mumbled, turning the thought over in his mind. "You really think we're gonna forget the entire night?"

"Unfortunately, we'll probably remember everything until after we finished drinking this huge bottle," you quipped. "So, I'm afraid you're just gonna have to live with the fact that you kissed your worst enemy in front of your entire family."

You shifted slightly, attempting to adjust your position on your knees, but the alcohol had robbed you of your usual balance. Your knee wobbled, and before you could tip over completely, a firm grip wrapped around your upper arm, pulling you back just before you could fall. The motion was abrupt, bringing you flush against him, and suddenly, you were far too close.

Your breath hitched. His did too.

Ukai's fingers lingered against your skin, his touch burning even through the drunken haze. Neither of you moved, caught in a delicate, fragile moment that felt like it could snap at the slightest shift. His grip didn't tighten, didn't loosen—just stayed, as if he, too, was trying to process what had just happened.

Your eyes met, startled and searching. The closeness was intoxicating as his uneven breath now mixed with yours. His gaze flickered, darting between your eyes, down to your lips, then back up again—hesitant, uncertain, but undeniably drawn in. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, and when he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, rough, almost lost beneath the sound of the night air.

"For me... that doesn't count as a kiss," His voice was barely above a whisper, but the confession hung thick in the air as you froze.

Then, his grip loosened from your arm, only to travel slowly all the way up to your face, hesitating just above your cheek, his fingers trembling ever so slightly before brushing against your skin. A shiver rippled through you at the contact, your breath hitching. You glanced at his hand, then back at him, your pulse hammering so violently that you swore he could hear it.

His fingertips cautiausly traced the line of your face, the lightest, slowest touch, as if he was memorizing every curve, every angle before settling, cupping your cheek in his palm, the roughness of his skin a stark contrast to the softness of his touch.  His thumb ghosted over your cheekbone, brushing against your hair, and you felt warmth spread through you, pooling deep in your stomach.

"W-What are you—" Your voice barely made it past your lips, weak and unsteady.

But Ukai didn't answer. He only leaned in, painfully and agonisingly slow, as if waiting for you to stop him. Waiting for you to do the right thing and push him away.

But you didn't. You couldn't. Your body remained frozen, every nerve alight, your heart threatening to burst from your chest.

And then, his lips made contact with yours for the second time tonight.

But this time, it was different.

The moment his lips touched yours, something inside Ukai seemed to snap. There was no hesitation, no careful restraint like before—just raw, unfiltered desperation. His hands, which had been trembling slightly just moments ago, now moved with an urgency that sent a shiver through your entire body. One of them slid up to the back of your head, fingers tangling into your hair, the other pressing firmly against the small of your back, pulling you closer, as if he were afraid you might disappear.

His lips moved against yours feverishly, hungrily, as though he had been starving for this exact moment and could finally taste salvation. There was nothing soft about the way he kissed you now. It was deep, consuming, reckless. His tongue slid against yours, coaxing a quiet moan from you that only seemed to spur him on further. He wanted more. He needed more.

In one swift motion, he gripped your hips and pulled you onto his lap, guiding your legs until you were straddling him, your knees pressing into the rough fabric of his jeans, thighs bracketing his. Your chest was flush against his, and you could feel the rapid rise and fall of his breathing, mirroring your own frantic heartbeat. His fingers dug into your waist, strong and possessive, holding you in place as he kissed you like he would never get the chance again.

Heat spread through you, curling low in your stomach as his lips left yours only to trail down the side of your jaw, his breath warm against your flushed skin. When he reached the curve of your neck, he hesitated for only a fraction of a second before his lips parted and he kissed you there—slow at first, then deeper, needier. His tongue flicked out, tasting your skin before he sucked at the sensitive spot just below your ear. A shudder wracked through you, and an involuntary moan slipped past your lips, your fingers tightening their grip around his shoulders.

At the sound, Ukai let out a quiet groan against your skin before pulling away from your neck and capturing your lips once more. It was intoxicating—the feel of him, the taste of him, the sheer intensity behind every movement. It was overwhelming in the best way, stealing the breath from your lungs. His hands roamed, exploring, grasping, as if he couldn't get enough.

But then—he stopped.

His lips lingered against yours for a fleeting second before he pulled back, his forehead almost touching yours as he breathed heavily, chest rising and falling beneath your palms. His hands had gone slack on your waist, his entire body trembling faintly beneath you.

His expression shifted. His brows furrowed, and his eyes, dark and clouded with something unreadable, flickered away from yours.

"I-I can't..." he muttered, his voice thick and uneven, as if it physically pained him to say it. "Not like this."

Your breath was still coming in ragged gasps, your mind spinning from the way he had just kissed you, from the way he had just held you, and yet his words barely made sense through the fog of intoxication and adrenaline.

"W-What?" you managed, voice breathless, eyes searching his face for an answer he wasn't willing to give.

Ukai shook his head, his hands, once so firm on your body, now trembling as they gripped your shoulders. And then, before you could process what was happening, he was gently pushing you off his lap, setting you back down onto the cold balcony floor.

"We're both very drunk right now, I-I..." he murmured, avoiding your gaze. His fingers ran through his already-messy hair, his breath still uneven. "W-We don't know what we're doing."

His voice wavered, laced with something dangerously close to regret, and your chest tightened.

"Fuck... I-I can't believe I just did this," he whispered to himself, bringing his hands up to his face. His fingers pressed against his forehead, then dragged down, covering his mouth as he exhaled shakily. There was something almost panicked about the way he held himself now, and watching him unravel like this sent a wave of confusion crashing over you.

"I-I..." you tried, but your voice failed you. The alcohol, the heat, the emotions—it was all too much. Your head spun, your heart pounded, and your lips still tingled from the pressure of his. Had that really just happened? Had you really just done that with him?

Your vision blurred slightly, the weight of exhaustion and intoxication pressing heavy against you. The warmth of the moment was slipping away, fading into a murky haze where nothing felt quite real. You brought a hand to your mouth, fingertips ghosting over your lips, but already the details were starting to blur.

"I'm sorry," Ukai muttered suddenly, his voice strained. "I-I... I shouldn't have done this. It was a bad idea. God, I'm so stupid." He cringed, squeezing his eyes shut like he wished he could take back every second of what had just transpired.

"You..." quietly, his voice cracked. "You hate me."

Your heart lurched.

The words were barely above a whisper, yet they hit you harder than anything else he had said tonight.

Your lips parted, but no words came. You had no response. Because the truth was—you didn't know anymore.

You were supposed to hate him. You were supposed to resent him for everything he had done, for everything he had put you through. But right now, with the taste of him still lingering on your lips and the ghost of his hands still burning against your skin, everything felt so impossibly confusing.

The silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating. And with nothing left to say, nothing left to grasp onto, you slowly leaned back against the sliding door, pulling your knees to your chest as the cold night air pressed against your heated skin but your eyelids were already growing heavy, your body swaying slightly. The alcohol was already winning, threatening to pull you under.

Ukai's gaze darted between you and the ground, his indecision clear in the way his fingers twitched at his sides. Then, with a slow, heavy breath, he pushed himself onto unsteady feet. The alcohol weighed down his movements, making his balance slightly off as he stumbled toward the glass door leading back into his room. His steps were sluggish, his body swaying just slightly—but just as he reached for the door, a sudden, firm grip on his hand stopped him mid-step.

He flinched at the unexpected touch, his heart lurching as he glanced down in confusion. Your fingers wrapped around his wrist, holding him there with a quiet desperation, yet your gaze remained distant, fixed on the horizon. The night air hummed around you, heavy with things unsaid. Then, your lips parted, voice barely more than a whisper, fragile against the silence.

"Do you... do you still mean the words you said to me that night?"

Ukai's breath hitched, his body stiffening as your question settled between you like a weight. His eyes widened slightly, caught off guard. He bit down on his lower lip, his mind clouded with too many thoughts, too many emotions. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, before he finally exhaled a quiet sigh. 

Slowly, he lowered himself back onto the ground beside you, his back pressing against the cool glass of the sliding door once more. His gaze hesitated, flickering toward you before he forced himself to speak.

"No..." he admitted, his voice raw, barely above a murmur. "I never did."

Your eyes widened slightly, the weight of his confession sinking in as you turned to face him. In the dim light, your gazes met, a mixture of surprise and something else lingering beneath the surface. Something uncertain. Something fragile. Ukai swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry as he struggled to find the right words.

"Do you...?" he asked, his heartbeat thudding painfully in his chest, anticipation clawing at his ribs. But instead of answering, you turned your face away, looking back at the vast night sky, as though seeking an answer somewhere among the stars.

"I-I..." your voice wavered, uncertain. "I'm not so sure anymore... I'm so confused..."

Ukai watched as your fingers curled slightly against the fabric of your clothes, your knuckles paling. Your expression was distant, troubled, and your words carried the weight of exhaustion. You looked lost. And maybe you were. He understood that feeling all too well.

He turned his face away, biting the inside of his cheek.

"It doesn't matter, anyway," he murmured, voice barely audible. His lips twitched into something that almost resembled a sad smile. "What was it you said earlier? A blackout is certified starting from after we finished the bottle?"

You let out a soft chuckle at that, the sound delicate, almost tired. "Did I ? I can't remember," you mumbled, your voice laced with exhaustion.

Ukai shrugged lightly, knowing you were already in a black out. "Don't worry, tomorrow will be like nothing happened for both of us, right?" His voice held an odd note of disappointment, though he masked it with a lopsided smirk. "At least to a certain extent."

You said nothing in return, simply letting his words hang in the air. And maybe that was an answer in itself. Too drained to think, too intoxicated to process, you leaned your head back against the glass, your eyes fluttering closed. The night spun around you, the alcohol settling deep in your veins.

"I'm sorry, Keishin..." you whispered, barely audible. "for everything."

Ukai's breath caught in his throat, his body tensing at your words. His eyes widened slightly, but he didn't move, didn't speak for a long moment. Then, he exhaled shakily, his fingers fidgeting against his knee as his mind raced.

"Yeah..." he murmured, his voice soft, almost hesitant. "Me too."

The night stretched on in silence, the distant hum of the city barely reaching the balcony. Then, all at once, he felt your weight shift, your head tilting until it rested against his shoulder. He flinched, his body stiffening at the unexpected contact.

"Y/n?" he called softly, barely above a breath. No response.

"Y/n?" he tried again, but still, silence.

His shoulders eased as realization dawned upon him—you had fallen asleep. Your breathing was slow and steady against him, warm and rhythmic. And yet, Ukai didn't move. He stayed still, letting the moment linger, almost savoring it. The faint scent of alcohol clung to you both, mixed with the night air, the distant hum of city life the only sound filling the space between you.

Then, so softly it was barely audible, he spoke.

"You know... whether you did it or not, I don't care anymore," His voice was a mere whisper, lost to the night. His gaze softened as he reached out, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. "I-I... I forgive you," He hesitated, then exhaled deeply, almost as if releasing a weight from his chest.

"I forgave you a long time ago, actually. I was just too stupid to realise that I wasn't truly angry with you about this," he admitted, voice barely a murmur now. "But if hating each other is the only way you'll keep talking to me, then..." He swallowed thickly, his throat tight. "I'll gladly let you hate me."

His head slowly rested against yours, his eyes slipping closed. The steady rise and fall of your breathing against him was the last thing he focused on before exhaustion finally took over.

"But please," he whispered, his voice barely carrying past his lips. "Don't leave me again, y/n."

And then, at last, he let himself drift into the darkness of sleep.

***

Chapter 28: Matchmakers strike again

Chapter Text

A knock on the door echoed softly in the quiet of the night, but only silence responded. After a few seconds, another knock followed—firm, yet hesitant. Again, no answer.

Slowly, the door creaked open, revealing Mio, her head peeking in first, her eyes scanning the dimly lit room. When she saw no movement, she hesitated only for a moment before pushing the door open fully and stepping inside.

"Keishin?" she called softly, her voice gentle as she looked around the darkened space. The room was still, save for the soft rustling of the night breeze filtering through the open balcony door. Her brows furrowed slightly as her gaze trailed toward the source of the wind. The curtains swayed lazily, and beyond them, something against the glass caught her attention.

Curious, Mio stepped forward cautiously, her footsteps light against the wooden floor. As she reached the threshold of the balcony, her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and her breath hitched the moment she realized what she was seeing.

You and Ukai—huddled together, sound asleep against the glass door.

Mio's hand shot up to cover her mouth, her eyes widening in shock before quickly softening with overwhelming delight. She let out a tiny, muffled squeal, bouncing slightly on her toes as she tried not to make a sound.

Her excitement was too much to contain. Spinning on her heels, she rushed back inside, her feet moving swiftly but carefully as she darted out of the room. She practically flew down the hallway, making her way to the living room, where Nekomata was sprawled out on the couch, snoring softly in deep sleep.

"Yasufumi!" she whisper-shouted, urgency lacing her voice as she gripped the couch with both hands. "Yasufumi! Quick, wake up!"

The older man remained still, lost in the depths of his slumber. Mio sighed in exasperation before circling around the couch to get better access to him. Without hesitation, she grabbed his shoulders and began shaking him vigorously.

"Wake up, old man! You have to see this!" she hissed, her voice still hushed but insistent.

Nekomata stirred, blinking blearily as a groggy mumble left his lips. "Huh? W-Wha—what's going on? Is it time to leave? Is Y/n okay?" His voice was rough with sleep as he slowly sat up, rubbing at his eyes.

Mio clapped her hands together, barely containing her giddiness. "Everything is fine. It's better than fine even!" she squealed, practically vibrating with excitement as she bounced on the balls of her feet.

Nekomata, still not entirely awake, gave her a sluggish nod. "That's—uh... that's great, Mio. Wake me up if something isn't fine, then," he muttered, already attempting to sink back into the couch.

Mio let out an impatient sigh before grabbing his arm, halting his retreat. "No, Yasufumi! You've got to come see this!" Her hands moved to grasp his, pulling him up to his feet with unexpected strength.

"Can't this wait? I was having a really good dream," he groaned, rubbing the back of his neck as he allowed himself to be dragged across the room.

Mio shook her head, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "No, it can't. You'll thank me later."

Still half-asleep, Nekomata begrudgingly followed her as she led him down the hall. Upon reaching Ukai's door, she paused, then shot him a grin before silently pushing it open. With an exaggerated wave of her hand, she gestured for him to look inside.

Nekomata squinted, his sleepy eyes straining against the darkness. His brows furrowed. "Uh... what am I supposed to be looking at exactly?" he muttered, turning to Mio, who frowned in exasperation.

"I really have to do everything," she grumbled under her breath before grabbing his hand again and silently leading him deeper into the room. Carefully, they stepped onto the balcony, where the night air greeted them with a cool breeze.

Mio crouched slightly and pointed downward. "Look," she whispered.

Nekomata followed the direction of her finger, his tired eyes adjusting—and then they widened, fully taking in the sight before him. You, curled up next to Ukai, bodies close, heads nearly touching as you both slept soundly against the glass.

His mouth parted slightly in surprise, but before he could make a sound, Mio clapped a hand over it, her expression one of pure urgency. "Don't wake them up! You'll ruin everything!" she whisper-shouted, narrowing her eyes at him.

Nekomata huffed through his nose, amusement flickering in his gaze as she slowly removed her hand. He took another look at the two of you, his lips curling into a knowing smirk as he crouched down slightly to get a better view.

With a quiet chuckle, he shook his head. "So much for hating each other," he muttered, his voice laced with sarcasm but filled with warmth as he observed the scene before him.

Mio let out a dramatic sigh, exasperation evident in every fiber of her being. "Tell me about it," she muttered, rolling her eyes as she stepped closer to the sleeping duo. "I just don't get why they keep insisting on that when it's so obviously the opposite. I mean, seriously, look at them right now!"

She gestured toward you, her arms flailing slightly in frustration. "One moment, they're ready to kill each other, and the next, this happens? Am I the crazy one here? Was I wrong for pointing out the obvious? I was merely trying to help them realize it, because clearly, they're too stupid to do it on their own!" Her voice was filled with exasperation, her hands thrown up in defeat.

Nekomata chuckled softly beside her. "Calm down, Mio. You're gonna wake them up."

She sighed again, rubbing her temples. "I swear, Yasufumi, these kids are gonna be the death of me. My hair's gonna be whiter than yours soon." She crossed her arms, shaking her head dramatically.

He let out another low chuckle before slipping his phone out of his pocket. A soft click echoed in the quiet night.

Mio's eyes narrowed. "What are you doing?"

Nekomata smirked, holding up his phone. "For later. In case Y/n tries to deny it again."

Mio's lips curled into a devilish grin. "Oh, send it to me, please. I need it as proof too."

"You got it," he murmured, typing quickly on his screen before tucking the phone away.

Mio sighed again, but this time, there was something softer in her expression as she gazed at the two of you. You looked so peaceful—completely lost in the depths of sleep, your breathing slow and even, your body naturally leaned into Ukai's. The longest you two had gone without bickering or throwing insults at each other in... well, a long time.

"God, what are we going to do with them?" she murmured, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"You mean right now, or in general?" Nekomata asked, amusement lacing his tone.

Mio let out a small laugh. "Both."

Nekomata hummed in thought before shrugging. "Well, in general, I think you already heard it from your son, but I'm afraid we can't do much except let them figure it out on their own. As for right now..." He glanced down at the two of you, the cold night air nipping at his skin. "I think the temperature is dropping, and we should get them inside before they wake up freezing."

Mio groaned, dragging a hand down her face. "But that means we have to wake them up and ruin everything." There was a genuine hint of sadness in her voice, like she was already mourning the perfect moment she had just captured.

Just then, something in the corner of Nekomata's eye caught his attention. A glint of glass reflecting the dim balcony light. He turned his head slightly, spotting the culprit—an empty bottle of vodka lying just a few feet away. His brows lifted as he reached down, picking it up and inspecting the weight.

"Yeah, I don't think waking them up is gonna be much of a problem," he mused, tilting the bottle slightly.

Mio turned toward him, confusion written all over her face. "What do you mean—oh." Her eyes locked onto the bottle, realization dawning in an instant. A knowing smirk played on her lips. "Ohhh, that explains everything. Of course, they're dead drunk. That's the only reason they're tolerating each other right now."

She let out a sigh, shaking her head in amusement. "God, why didn't I think of that sooner?" She rubbed her forehead before glancing at Nekomata, who was biting the inside of his cheek as he thought for a moment.

Then, his expression shifted—something mischievous glinting in his eyes. "Come on, let's get them inside. I have an idea."

Mio eyed him suspiciously. "An idea? Aren't you just going to take her back to Tokyo?"

Nekomata smirked, his grip tightening slightly around the bottle before setting it back down. "Nah. It's too late for me to drive back now."

Mio frowned. "So, what are you planning, then?"

He simply grinned. "It'd be a real shame to disturb her sleep, don't you think?"

With that, he carefully crouched beside you, his arms moving smoothly as he slid one under your knees and the other around your back. With practiced ease, he slowly lifted you into his arms, ensuring your head rested lightly against his chest.

The sudden shift in weight caused Ukai—who had been relying on your presence for support—to lurch sideways. His body teetered dangerously, threatening to collapse onto the balcony floor.

Mio, quick on her feet, shot forward and caught him just in time.

Nekomata stood up, stretching his back slightly before stepping back into the room. He moved with careful precision, ensuring not to wake you as he gently lowered you onto Ukai's bed. Your body sank into the mattress, a soft sigh escaping your lips as you instinctively curled into the warmth of the sheets. Mio watched in silence, her head tilting slightly in curiosity—until realization suddenly dawned on her.

Her eyes widened in delight. "Oh my god. You're a genius!" she whisper-shouted, still supporting Ukai's weight.

Nekomata smirked, dusting off his hands. "I know, I know."

Mio glanced at Ukai, still slumped heavily against her, and frowned slightly. "Okay, but how exactly are we getting him into bed? I mean, I could try carrying him, but let's be real, that's not happening."

Nekomata waved a dismissive hand. "Relax. Watch and learn."

Mio eyed him warily as he stepped back onto the balcony and crouched beside Ukai, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. Then, much to Mio's horror, he shook him.

Her entire body stiffened. "What are you doing?!" she whisper-yelled, her hands gripping Ukai as if bracing for disaster. "You're going to wake him up!"

"Mio, trust me. He's dead drunk," Nekomata said, entirely unfazed. "Even if I smacked him upside the head, he'd barely feel it."

Ukai groaned in response, his face scrunching up slightly as he began to stir. Mio sucked in a sharp breath, but Nekomata simply smirked. "Right now, he's just conscious enough to walk a few feet, then—" He snapped his fingers, "—he's out. Right back to sleep. And conveniently, right next to Y/n."

Mio gasped in admiration. "I can't believe it."

"I know, I'm good."

"No, I mean, you're even worse than I am." She grinned, shaking her head in disbelief.

Nekomata shrugged, supporting Ukai's weight as he pulled the younger man upright. "Maybe."

Ukai let out a sleepy, unintelligible mumble, his head lolling slightly as Nekomata hooked Ukai's arm over his shoulder for support.

"Wha—what's goin' on?" Ukai mumbled, his voice thick with sleep, barely audible.

Nekomata guided him toward the bed with steady steps. "Nothing. We're just going to bed."

Ukai let out a slow, lazy smile, his eyes still closed. "Mmm, bed," he muttered, his words slurred. "I like bed."

Mio barely stifled her laugh as Nekomata maneuvered him the rest of the way, finally easing Ukai down onto the mattress beside you. As soon as his body hit the bed, he melted into the covers with a contented sigh.

Nekomata exhaled sharply, rubbing his shoulder. "Damn. Heavier than he looks."

Mio, however, was no longer paying attention to him. Her eyes were locked on the two of you, lying side by side, the peaceful rise and fall of your breathing in sync. She was just about to say something when Ukai shifted in his sleep.

Mio's breath caught as she watched, eyes wide. Ukai instinctively rolled onto his side, his arm stretching out blindly before it found you. Without a second thought, he pulled you closer against his chest, his body naturally molding against yours in a loose, effortless embrace.

Mio's hand flew to her chest, her mouth parting slightly. "Oh my god."

Nekomata followed her gaze, his own eyes widening slightly before a slow, knowing smirk curled his lips.

Mio let out a dramatic sigh, shaking her head. "If only they could realize what's right under their noses."

Nekomata chuckled, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry," he mused, watching as Ukai subconsciously buried his face slightly into your hair, his grip around you tightening. "I'd say we're off to a really good start after tonight."

Mio scoffed, crossing her arms. "They are so gonna kill us tomorrow."

Nekomata smirked. "Only if they actually remember how they got in this position. Which, let's be honest, isn't likely."

Mio turned to him, narrowing her eyes. "You're way too good at this. It's kind of scary."

He simply chuckled, already leading her toward the door. "Come on, let's leave them be and get some sleep. We've done enough meddling for one night."

With one final glance at the two of you nestled together, Mio let out a soft sigh and followed him out, closing the door quietly behind her, leaving the room in peaceful silence.

***

The warmth of the sun roused you from sleep, its rays spilling through the window and landing directly on your face. It was warm—maybe a bit too warm. The kind of warmth that signaled summer was just around the corner, even though it was only June. A lazy heat wrapped around you, making you shift slightly, seeking comfort from the sudden brightness. But something else was keeping you warm, something beyond the sun's touch. There was heat radiating directly onto your face, as if warm air was being exhaled onto your skin.

Still lingering on the edges of sleep, you turned your face downward, burying it into what you assumed was your pillow. But as you inhaled deeply, a scent filled your senses—one that was oddly familiar. A faint trace of cologne, mixed with something undeniably comforting. You furrowed your brows slightly, your half-conscious mind struggling to place where you'd smelled it before. Nostalgic. Close. It wrapped around you like an old memory, making your drowsy state all the more enticing.

Then, something shifted.

A weight settled over your body, firm yet gentle, pulling you in closer. Your face burrowed deeper, the warmth surrounding you completely. It was soft, solid under your touch, yet undeniably different from the usual cottony comfort of your pillow. Your hands, sluggish with sleep, lazily wandered over the unfamiliar surface. Fingers traced along firm lines, a shape that was undeniably human, yet your mind refused to fully register it. Your palm pressed flat against it, squeezing slightly.

Soft.

Your brows knitted together in confusion as your fingers experimentally prodded again. It wasn't fabric, it wasn't a blanket—no, this was skin. Smooth, warm, alive. A slow breath ghosted against your hair, the steady rise and fall beneath your palm suddenly clicking something into place.

And then—

A groan.

The surface beneath you moved, a sharp inhale breaking the stillness. The realization crashed into you like a tidal wave. Your eyes snapped open, your pupils dilating as you stared directly a—

A neck.

A throat, Adam's apple shifting as it swallowed. The skin beneath your cheek stiffened. The scent from before, that familiar cologne, suddenly made sense.

Your entire body froze, breath hitching as dread clawed up your spine.

Your head tilted up—slowly, almost painfully so—until your gaze locked with a pair of equally wide, golden-brown eyes. Ukai's face was mere inches from yours, his pupils blown with shock, mirroring your own expression of sheer horror.

Neither of you moved. The silence stretched, heavy and unbearable, as both of you processed the nightmare you had somehow woken up into.

Then, in perfect unison—

"Keishin?!" you shrieked.

"Y/N?!" he barked back.

Pure, unfiltered panic erupted. You scrambled backward so quickly that you didn't register the edge of the bed, slamming into the wall behind you with a loud thud. Ukai, tangled in the sheets, let out a startled yelp as he toppled off the bed entirely, hitting the floor with a thump and a string of curses.

Heart hammering in your chest, you crawled toward the edge of the bed, peering over. Ukai was sprawled out on the floor, sheets twisted around his legs like some kind of cruel snare.

"What are you doing here?!" you shouted, voice higher than usual.

Ukai shot you an incredulous look. "What am I doing here?! You're in my room! In my bed!"

His words hit you like a truck. Your frantic gaze darted around, taking in the room—his room. The posters on the wall, the slightly messy desk, the familiar scent now making too much sense. Your stomach dropped.

"Oh, fuck," you muttered, slumping back onto your butt. Your head was pounding, the events of last night a swirling mess of blurred memories.

You'd completely forgotten.

The weird dinner with his family. The stupid bet. His mom. The balcony.

And lots. Lots of alcohol.

Your hands shot up to your forehead, pressing against your temples as if that could somehow force clarity into your brain. You couldn't remember anything after you started drinking on that damn balcony. Why hadn't your grandpa taken you home? How had you ended up hereIn Ukai's bed?

You let out a mortified groan, burying your face in your hands. "How did this happen?" you whined.

Ukai, still sitting on the floor, didn't respond immediately. When you finally peeked through your fingers at him, he was staring at the balcony, eyes distant. His jaw was slack, fingers slowly lifting to his face, hovering near his lips.

His cheeks darkened.

"Oh, fuck..." he muttered under his breath.

Before you could even process that reaction, the door slammed open.

"What happened?!"

"We heard screaming!!"

Your heads whipped toward the doorway. Mio and Nekomata stood there, eyes darting around the room as if searching for a lurking intruder. Their tense expressions quickly melted into something... unimpressed.

Mio crossed her arms. "Huh. Look who finally woke up, Yasufumi."

Nekomata sighed, mirroring her stance. "It's almost noon. You two are real slugabeds."

You and Ukai gawked at them, still too stunned to react properly.

"I—I... what?" you sputtered.

Nekomata simply exhaled. "Come on, kids. Breakfast is ready. Or, I guess, lunch now." He turned and walked away as if this entire situation was completely normal.

Mio clapped her hands together. "Yes! I made your favorite. Pancakes and scrambled eggs. A real American breakfast!" she beamed before following after Nekomata.

Silence.

You sat there, mouth slightly agape. Ukai was still on the floor, looking equally dumbfounded.

Why? Why were they acting like this was normal?

"What the hell is going on?" you mumbled to yourself, but Ukai's reaction pulled your attention.

He was staring at you. His gaze was softer than usual, something unreadable in his eyes. His cheeks, still tinged red, only deepened in color when you caught him looking.

You furrowed your brows. "What are you staring at?" you asked suspiciously.

Ukai immediately looked away, clearing his throat. "N-Nothing. Let's go eat." Without another word, he stood up and made his way out of the room, avoiding your gaze entirely.

You sat there, baffled.

"Okay, what the fuck is going on?" you muttered to yourself, dragging a hand down your face.

You got up from the bed with a groan, the sluggish weight of sleep and confusion pressing down on you. The whole situation was a disaster—last night had been a disaster. You never should have accepted Mio's invitation in the first place. You should've known she'd pull something like this. Then again, you had gotten yourself into this whole fake dating mess, like an idiot.

Your head throbbed as flashes of last night flickered through your mind. The dinner. The whispers. The knowing looks from his family. And then—the kiss.

You squeezed your eyes shut, mortification washing over you like a tidal wave. You'd kissed Ukai. On the lipsIn front of his entire family.

A pained noise escaped your throat as your hands flew to your face. The memory alone was enough to make you want to curl into a ball and never emerge. You could still see their reactions. It had all felt so surreal, so ridiculous. And Ukai's reaction afterward? That made it even worse. The moment he had pulled away, claiming he couldn't do it. The way he had recoiled had been enough to carve a deep, mortifying pit in your stomach. Then again, it was to be expected. You hated each other after all.

Still you weren't even sure why it stung so much.

You stood in the middle of the room, hands still pressed against your heated face. How the hell were you supposed to face Ukai now? You had talked to him after his valid crash out, after talking with Mio, on the balcony. You had tried to fix things after that disaster of a dinner. You had told him everything about your mother. Your brother. Personal things. Things you never talked about with anyone.

But despite all of that, the fact remained—you had kissed each other because of a bet.

And that kiss? He had hated it. You had hated it too.

You dropped your hands, exhaling shakily. Hating him was supposed to be simple. It always had been. He had deserved it after what he did. And yet—

Last night, sitting on that balcony, drinking, talking, laughing—it hadn't felt like you were talking to someone you hated. It had felt easy. Natural. Familiar, even. Like how things used to be. And you had drunk so much, laughed so much, talked so much, that everything on the balcony was a blur.

Your fingers curled into your palms. You were supposed to hate him. But after last night...

You weren't sure you could hate him like you used to. And it was scary.

The thought was frustrating. Confusing. It was a tangle of emotions you didn't want to deal with right now. Especially not when you had just woken up in his arms. That was already too much to handle. God, why was everything so complicated?

You swallowed hard, willing yourself to snap out of it. There was no point in spiraling over it. You just needed to leaveFast. Avoiding Ukai was the best option right now. There was no way you could sit at the same table and act like nothing had happened.

Just as you turned toward the door, a voice cut through your thoughts.

"Y/N? What are you doing? Your brunch is gonna get cold!" Nekomata's voice called from the living room.

Your head snapped up, heart thudding in your chest. The open doorway taunted you, a clear path to an awkward situation you wanted nothing to do with. But there was no escaping now. You inhaled deeply, forcing your expression into something neutral before stepping out into the hallway.

With each step, your stomach twisted tighter. When you finally emerged into the living room, the sight that greeted you nearly made you stop in your tracks.

Yasufumi and Ukai sat at the dining table, the scene unfolding before you so bizarrely normal that it sent a strange shiver down your spine. Your grandpa was reading the newspaper, casually sipping his coffee. Mio emerged from the kitchen, a warm plate in her hands that she promptly set in front of your seat.

And Ukai—

Ukai sat silently, eyes downcast as he focused on his plate, eating quietly. Not looking at you. Not acknowledging you. Not reacting at all.

Your eyes widened slightly. Had you woken up in a parallel universe? Why was everyone acting so... casual? As if this was a perfectly normal Sunday morning? As if you hadn't just woken up tangled in Ukai's arms.

You hadn't gathered like this in years—eight years, to be exact. And yet, Nekomata and Mio were acting like nothing had changed. Like time had never passed. Like you were still just a kid, sitting at this very table, arguing with Ukai over breakfast like you used to.

You lingered in the doorway, stunned, eyes darting between them in disbelief.

"Y/N, honey," Mio's voice snapped you back to the present. She was looking at you, a brow raised in amusement. "What are you doing standing there like you've seen a ghost?"

You blinked. It almost felt like you had.

Everything about this morning was unnerving. The way everyone carried on like nothing had happened. Like you were reliving a memory from ten years ago. Your fingers curled slightly at your sides, your thoughts a tangled mess.

Just what the hell was going on?

"A-Actually, I think Grandpa and I should go..." you said, your voice slightly unsteady as you fidgeted with the hem of your shirt. Your eyes flickered toward Ukai, who still refused to meet your gaze, his attention stubbornly fixed on his plate. The air in the room felt heavy, thick with unspoken tension, and you just wanted—needed—to get out of there.

Nekomata raised an eyebrow at your sudden announcement. Mio frowned, the corners of her mouth pulling downward in disappointment. "Oh, sweetheart, you should at least have something before you go. I made your favorite."

You swallowed, shaking your head. "I—I know, but it's already noon, and the inter-highs are next week." The words tumbled out hurriedly, almost too quickly. "Grandpa and I need to get back to Tokyo and train our team. We're already late."

It was only half a lie, but it was enough to justify your escape. You turned toward Nekomata, grabbing his arm before he could protest.

"Whoa, hey—" your grandfather huffed in surprise, stumbling slightly as you tugged him along.

Mio sighed. "Oh, alright... that's too bad," she said, her voice tinged with genuine disappointment. But then she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around you in a warm hug, pressing you close against her. "I was so happy to see you, sweetheart. Come back whenever you want, okay?"

You stiffened slightly before nodding against her shoulder. "Y-Yep, yep. Thank you so much again, Mio," you said, voice rushed, your hands gripping her back just for a moment before you quickly pulled away. You risked one last glance at Ukai. He was still staring at his plate, barely acknowledging your departure. The sight made something twist uncomfortably in your chest.

"Wait, I'm not finished with my coffee—" Nekomata grumbled, but you were already dragging him toward the door.

"I'll make you another back home," you muttered under your breath, barely letting him say a proper goodbye.

"Well, goodbye then! Drive safe!" Mio called from the living room, her voice still warm despite the abruptness of your departure.

"Will do! Thanks again!" you called back just before the door shut behind you with a decisive slam.

A heavy silence settled in the house for a moment. Mio exhaled and turned to face Ukai, who had barely moved. She placed her hands on her hips. "Why is she acting like this? Keishin, did you say something mean to her?" she asked, her voice laced with suspicion.

Ukai finally looked up, his expression flat. "I didn't say anything," he muttered, his fingers tapping against the table restlessly.

Mio narrowed her eyes. "Wait a second, did something happen between you two?" she asked, her tone shifting from concern to excitement.

Ukai immediately choked on his food, coughing violently as he reached for his glass of water. "N-No! Nothing! We just— We hate each other! Of course, she doesn't want to stay..." His words were rushed, defensive, as he pointedly avoided her gaze.

Mio crossed her arms, watching him carefully. "Really?" she asked, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips. "Then how come I found you two sleeping on the balcony together, huh?"

Ukai stiffened, his eyes snapping toward her in shock. "W-What? How did you—" he started, but then realization dawned on him, and his brows furrowed deeper. "Wait a second... Mom, if you found us on the balcony... how the hell did we end up in my bed?" His arms crossed over his chest as he eyed her suspiciously.

Mio's confident smile faltered. "I-I... uh... well—" she stammered, clearly caught off guard.

"Oh my god," Ukai's palm slammed against the table. "I knew it! It was you!" he accused, standing up abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor.

Mio raised her hands defensively. "In my defense, it wasn't my idea this time!" she said, her voice rising slightly in panic.

Ukai's glare intensified. "Even after everything that happened last night, you just couldn't help yourself, could you?!"

Mio huffed. "First of all," she said, crossing her arms again, "I found you two all cozy on the balcony. Yasufumi and I just wanted you to be more comfortable. You couldn't stay out there all night."

Ukai pinched the bridge of his nose, inhaling sharply. "I can't believe this."

"Look, we merely moved you from point A to point B. That's all," Mio said matter-of-factly. "I don't think she ran off just because of that."

Ukai shot her a dry, unimpressed look. "Oh, yeah? Then what else could it be? After everything you pulled last night, I wouldn't be surprised if she hates me even more now."

Mio bit her lower lip, hesitating for just a second before saying, "Are you sure about that?"

Ukai gestured vaguely toward the door. "Didn't you just see her bolt out of here like her life depended on it?" he deadpanned.

Mio sighed, shaking her head. "She was just confused, honey. No girl falls asleep on the shoulder of a guy she truly hates."

Ukai scoffed. "Except if she's blackout drunk. Which she was."

Mio rolled her eyes. "Gosh, even after all my efforts last night, you two are still as blind as ever," she muttered, shaking her head in sheer exasperation. "Even after I talked to her, you're telling me nothing happened on that balcony? Man, I'm so bummed."

Ukai narrowed his eyes, instantly suspicious. "Wait, what? What did you talk to her about?"

Mio waved her hands in the air as if to dismiss the subject. "W-Well, you know... girl talk..."

His frown deepened. "Girl talk?" he echoed, arms now crossing over his chest.

"Yeah! The usual stuff..." She smiled nervously, her eyes darting to the side.

"Please, do enlighten me, mother," he deadpanned, his patience wearing thin.

Mio hesitated, the playful glint in her eyes faltering. "I-I... I just told her I was proud of her and that I had missed her..." she started, but Ukai wasn't buying it. He took a step forward, his gaze scrutinizing.

"And?" he prompted.

She cleared her throat, shifting uncomfortably. "And... that you'd missed her..." she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Ukai took another step forward. "That's not all, is it?" His tone was sharp, unwavering.

Mio clamped her mouth shut. The silence was enough of an answer.

"Mom..." he warned, his patience hanging by a thread.

She winced before blurting out, "I-I... well, I may or may not have told her that—"

"That?" he pressed.

She braced herself, her expression guilty. "That you were in love with her back in high school," she finally confessed, her voice small, as if hoping it would lessen the impact.

Ukai's eyes blew wide. "WHAT?!"

"W-Well, in my defense, it's true!" she said quickly, holding her hands up as if to shield herself from the backlash.

"Mom! Why would you say that to her?! Are you crazy?!" he shouted, running a frustrated hand through his already messy hair. "She was never supposed to know that!"

"Why not?" Mio asked, genuinely curious.

"Because she hates my guts, Mom!" He groaned, shaking his head. "Gosh, I'm praying she didn't believe you or else I'm never going to hear the end of it. I lost all credibility now! How am I supposed to face her?! She'll use it against me!"

Mio tilted her head, an amused smile playing on her lips. "I don't think she'll do that, Keishin."

Ukai's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

Mio's smirk widened. "Well, because she was in love with you too back then."

The room fell into silence.

Ukai stared at her as if she had just spoken in an alien language. "W-What?!" he blurted again, his voice slightly cracking in disbelief.

Mio chuckled, shaking her head. "I swear, you kids are so dramatic."

Ukai, however, was frozen, blinking at her as if she had just revealed some grand, earth-shattering secret. "No, no, that's not possible," he muttered, laughing nervously.

Mio only shrugged. "Believe what you want, but she told me so herself yesterday."

He swallowed thickly, his mind racing. "I-I... but it doesn't make any sense," His voice was quieter now,  to himself. "If she had been... why would she have given him the notebook...?"

Mio sighed dramatically, resting a hand on her hip. "You kids are always so complicated. Why do you care whether it makes sense or not? I'm just telling you that she was. You can do whatever with that information. But you don't care, right? Since you're not in love with her anymore. Since you clearly hate each other now."

She turned back towards the kitchen, an amused smile lingering on her lips as she disappeared behind the doorway.

Ukai watched her go, an annoyed expression on his face. Slowly, he sat back down at the table, bringing a hand to his face as he tried to process everything. Was this true? Had you really been in love with him back then too or was this another one of his mother's lies?

Even if it was, what difference did it make now?

He sighed, his fingers hovered over his lips as memories from the previous night resurfaced. He could still feel the ghost of your lips against his, the warmth of your body pressed against him. He remembered everything—fortunately or unfortunately, he wasn't sure. Every touch, every accidental graze, every nervous breath you had taken—it was all etched in his mind.

But he also remembered something else: the reality of the situation. You had kissed because you were drunk, because of the moment. You'd both been drunk.

Did you even remember what happened after that kiss? The second kiss—the one that hadn't been forced, the one that had been softer, slower, almost real. The one that had sent his heart into a frenzy, making him feel things he had long since buried. The one that made him realise that his mother had been right all along.

Did you remember that one? Or had the alcohol erased it all?

He exhaled sharply, his grip tightening on his jaw.

If you did remember, you'd probably never speak to him again. Was that why you'd run out of that door?

He sighed. What was done was done. He had no control over the past. The only thing he could do now was focus on the Inter-Highs, getting Karasuno to the nationals. That was all that mattered.

Yet, as he stared towards the corridor leading to the front door, he couldn't shake the one thought looping in his mind.

After everything that happened last night, did you still hate him like before?

***

 

Chapter 29: Tokyo Afternoon

Chapter Text

The sun had barely begun its ascent, casting a soft golden glow over the gymnasium as the early morning air still carried the last remnants of the night's crisp coolness. The large overhead lights flickered to life, illuminating the polished wooden floor as the doors swung open with a loud creak.

"Man, it's so early!" Taketora groaned as he stepped foot into the gym, stretching his arms above his head before dramatically slouching forward, as if the sheer weight of morning practice was pressing down on him.

"Stop whining, you big baby!" Kuroo smirked, delivering a light but firm smack to the back of Taketora's head. The latter yelped and rubbed the sore spot, grumbling under his breath. "Need I remind you that we lost the Inter-High preliminaries? We need to train harder if we want to make it to Nationals at the Spring Tournament." Kuroo's arms were crossed over his chest, his usual playful smirk replaced by a determined frown.

Taketora let out a deep sigh but then straightened up, clenching his fists with renewed enthusiasm. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. We'll beat all of their asses next time for sure!" he declared with a confident grin, already picturing himself spiking a ball past his rivals.

Kuroo rolled his eyes, though a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"That's the spirit, Taketora," you said, a chuckle escaping you despite yourself. Your voice was softer, yet firm, carrying the weight of belief in your players. The rest of the team stood around, some stretching, others still groggy from being forced out of bed at an ungodly hour.

Taking a deep breath, you turned to the group, your expression shifting into something more resolute. "Everyone, I know you're bummed about the Inter-Highs, but don't let it weigh you down too much, okay? You all did your absolute best, and I couldn't be prouder of you."

The team exchanged reluctant glances, their shoulders still carrying the burden of their defeat. Yaku, arms folded, let out a small sigh. "Thank you, coach, but you don't have to lie."

You frowned, stepping forward. "Hey, I'm not lying. I mean it. We're both proud of you." You gestured toward Nekomata, who nodded in agreement. "You didn't make it to Nationals this time, but like Taketora said, you've got another shot. And I know you're going to take it."

They still looked unconvinced, the sting of their loss still too fresh. That wouldn't do.

"This was merely a step back. You still have another chance, and I know it will happen." You took a step forward, voice rising with conviction. "Now, come on! I wanna hear all of you say it!"

The players blinked at you.

"We're making it to Nationals!" you shouted, and the team, albeit hesitantly, repeated the words, though their voices barely carried.

You placed a hand on your hip, raising a brow. "Really? That's it? You expect to win like that? Come on, guys! I wanna be convinced! Be convinced!"

The players glanced at one another before speaking again, a little louder this time.

"Louder!" you urged, cupping a hand around your ear.

"WE'RE MAKING IT TO NATIONALS!!" The gym echoed with their voices as they finally roared in unison, their earlier reluctance melting away.

You grinned, nodding in satisfaction. "There we go! That's what I'm talking about! Now, let's get to work—setting up the court isn't going to do itself. We've got a long day of training ahead."

The team cheered as they scattered around the gym, grabbing equipment and setting up the nets. You watched them with a proud smile, your heart swelling with admiration.

The loss at the Inter-Highs had been a bitter pill to swallow. The quarterfinals had been within reach, only to be cruelly ripped away, leaving devastation in its wake. They had been broken, understandably so, but their fire hadn't died. They still had something to fight for, something to chase. And if there was one thing you had learned, it was that motivation, no matter how dimmed by defeat, never truly went away. Sometimes, it just needed a little push.

Today was an important day for all of you. All the schools from Tokyo were gathering in this gym to play against each other. It was the opportunity to get better and stronger. However, a sigh escaped you as your gaze drifted to Nekomata, who was overseeing the players. You still couldn't believe he had taken it upon himself to invite Karasuno to the training camp. Of course he had. No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn't escape it. Escape him.

It had been two weeks.

Two weeks since you had last spoken to Ukai.

Two weeks since that night.

Your fingers twitched slightly at your side before you exhaled and brought a hand to your face. Just thinking about that night, about his family, about waking up in his arms—it sent a full-body cringe up your spine.

But more than the embarrassment, more than the awkwardness, what unsettled you most was the uncertainty of it all.

How would he react to seeing you again? What would he say? What would you say? Would it be like usual? Would you just hate each other? Would he act as if nothing had happened?

Your stomach twisted at the thought.

Because, if you were being honest with yourself, you didn't know how to act either.

Did you still hate each other? Were you even capable of hating him anymore?

The problem was... you didn't have an answer. You hadn't had one for two weeks. No matter how much you thought about it, no matter how much you tried to convince yourself, you still had nothing.

And that scared you.

The sudden weight of a hand on your shoulder made you jolt, snapping you out of your thoughts. You turned quickly, only to be met with Nekomata's knowing smirk, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"What are you deeply thinking about over here?" he teased, his voice light yet prying, as if he already knew the answer. Then, with a playful waggle of his eyebrows, he added, "Is it about Keishin?"

You exhaled sharply, rolling your eyes as you swatted his hand away from your shoulder. "You know, my life doesn't revolve around him," you retorted, crossing your arms defensively. "I have a lot of other things to think about—like today's training, what each of our students need to work on, how I'm going to help them improve. You know, actual important things."

Nekomata simply tilted his head, his smirk deepening. His silence said everything—he wasn't buying it. "Oh yeah?" he drawled. "Then what were you just thinking about so deeply?"

Your mouth opened, ready to fire back a response, but no words came out. You blinked, your mind scrambling for something to say.

"I-I... Whatever! We've got more important things to do!" you huffed, pivoting away from him as if that could physically remove the conversation from existence.

Nekomata chuckled, clearly enjoying himself, before casually gesturing towards the entrance. "You're right, Karasuno just arrived."

Your breath hitched slightly. "Oh," Your eyes flickered toward the doors, anticipation curling in your stomach. You weren't sure if it was dread or excitement. 

"Let's go greet them," Nekomata said smoothly, already strolling toward the entrance with that same lazy confidence, his hands tucked behind his back. His smirk remained, and you had the distinct impression that he was watching you carefully, waiting for your reaction.

You inhaled sharply and followed, though each step felt heavier than the last.

The doors swung open, and the first to enter was Takeda, his ever-warm smile lighting up his face. Right behind him, however, was the one and only Ukai Keishin.

Your breath caught in your throat before you could stop it.

His hair was tied up in that familiar headband, his piercings absent—likely tucked away for practice. He wore a red shirt and white sweatpants, and something about the colors—the colors of Nekoma—made your stomach twist strangely. He looked the same as always. And yet, he didn't.

Your eyes traced over him involuntarily, searching for something—anything—that might tell you how this meeting was about to go. But his gaze wasn't on you. It was fixed on Nekomata, unreadable.

"Thank you for letting us take part in this. We're really grateful," Takeda said earnestly, bowing slightly.

His voice broke you from your trance, and you shook your head discreetly, scolding yourself. Get a grip.

"Don't mention it! It's nothing much. I'm looking forward to seeing just how much they've grown since our last match," Nekomata replied easily.

Ukai and Takeda nodded, their expressions polite.

"Now, come on! Let's see what they've got against the others," Nekomata added before turning and sauntering back toward the gym, leaving you standing there with Takeda and Ukai.

And just like that, the awkwardness settled in like an uninvited guest.

Ukai shifted uncomfortably, his eyes cast downward as he rubbed the back of his neck. He wasn't looking at you. That was new. Usually, when you were in the same space, there was an immediate spark—whether it was irritation, banter, or outright glares. But now, it was just... silence.

Takeda, thankfully oblivious, stepped forward with a bright smile. "Y/N! It's so nice to see you again!"

You blinked a few times, snapping back into focus before quickly nodding. "R-Right, yeah! It's been a while, Ittetsu. It's always nice to see you too."

His enthusiasm was infectious, and you managed a small smile.

"I can't wait for today and tomorrow! The kids are so excited for this!" Takeda chuckled, his energy unwavering.

"Of course! It's only fair," you replied, though your voice was slightly distracted. Your eyes flickered toward Ukai again, watching as he stood there, silent, gaze averted.

"How are you doing? I heard that you unfortunately lost in the quarterfinals," Takeda continued, stepping up beside you.

You glanced at Ukai one last time before shifting your attention fully to Takeda. You nodded, falling into step beside him as you walked toward the gym.

"Yeah, it's too bad really, but we're not beaten yet!" you declared, determination flaring up in your chest. "I guarantee that they'll win the next preliminaries and go to Nationals! And we'll definitely meet you there, right?"

You grinned, holding out your fist toward Takeda.

His eyes brightened with excitement as he bumped his fist against yours. "Definitely!"

From behind you, Ukai followed at a slower pace. His face remained impassive, but the sharpness in his gaze gave him away. His eyes twitched slightly as he caught sight of the fist bump, his jaw tensing just the slightest bit.

He said nothing. But his silence spoke louder than words.

"Oh, by the way! I've been meaning to ask you about a move you used to make in your matches!" Takeda's voice carried a spark of excitement, his curiosity evident.

You turned to him with an intrigued smile. "Oh? Of course. Ask away."

His eyes practically gleamed as he leaned in slightly. "Okay, so I've been watching some of your old matches lately, and I noticed that your spikes are spectacularly strong, almost unstoppable. It's one of the main reasons you're so well-known. Do you have a special technique that makes them so powerful, or is it just a matter of pure strength?"

You blinked, momentarily taken aback, before a soft chuckle escaped your lips. The way he had phrased it, his genuine admiration—it was flattering in an innocent way. "Wait, you've been analyzing my matches?" you teased, raising an eyebrow in amusement.

Takeda's face instantly turned a shade of deep crimson. "I-I... well, I mean... I just did it for the kids!" he stammered, waving his hands frantically in front of him, his nervousness almost endearing.

You let out a small laugh and placed a reassuring hand on his upper arm. "Relax. I'm only messing with you," you said warmly, your tone lighthearted.

From a few feet behind, Ukai watched the exchange, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, his jaw clenched. His golden eyes flickered between you and Takeda, his fingers twitching slightly at his sides. Something about the interaction—your hand on Takeda's arm, the way he looked at you with admiration—sent a flicker of irritation through him. His blood simmered beneath his skin, his expression darkening without him realizing it.

Before he could react, you pulled back, placing a thoughtful finger on your chin. "Well, as for my spikes, the answer is no. Strength alone isn't the reason why they're so effective. It actually has a lot to do with observation, but also with the setter. A good setter is essential to a spiker. Isn't that right, Keishin?" You turned to look at him, expecting a confident response, but instead, you were met with something... different.

Ukai stood stiffly, his brows furrowed, his gaze flickering between you and Takeda before it landed on you, his expression unreadable. For a split second, it looked like he was somewhere else entirely, lost in his own mind. Then, as if jolted back to reality, he straightened up and coughed into his fist. "O-Oh, yeah. It's true..." he muttered, his voice uncharacteristically soft, almost shy.

You narrowed your eyes at him, confused. "Okay..." you murmured, before shaking off the odd moment and turning back to Takeda.

"Anyway, as I was saying. On top of a good setter, the real key is being able to see openings while in the air. Anticipation, split-second decision-making—that's what makes a spiker truly dangerous," you explained, a small smile creeping onto your face.

Takeda listened intently, hanging onto your every word, his admiration clear. "Wow! You're so cool!" he blurted out, eyes practically sparkling.

You blinked, slightly taken aback, before smirking. "Oh? Thank you," you teased, tilting your head slightly.

Takeda's face turned an even deeper shade of red as he frantically shook his head. "I-I mean! That's so cool, haha..." he corrected himself, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck.

You let out a small chuckle, patting his shoulder as a sign of appreciation. "I appreciate the compliment," you said with a playful wink.

He watched as your hand lingered on Takeda's arm, a casual, reassuring touch, but one that sent an irritating twinge through his chest. His jaw tightened, and he clenched his fists at his sides. The logical part of him knew there was nothing to be annoyed about, but logic had nothing to do with the way his blood boiled at the sight.

Takeda, completely oblivious to the shift in atmosphere, fumbled over his words, his face growing redder under your amused gaze. Takeda gulped, straightened his posture, and took a deep breath. "H-Hey, by the way.. I was wondering if maybe, you'd be interested—"

Ukai moved before he could think, his body reacting on impulse. He abruptly stepped between them, effectively pushing them apart as he inserted himself into the conversation, quite literally pushing a wedge between you and Takeda as he walked between you both, forcing you apart. "Alright, that's enough talking about how amazing Y/n is when her ego is already big enough as it is. We've got matches to watch and teams to train!" His tone was nonchalant, but there was an undeniable edge to it.

You blinked at the sudden intrusion before raising an eyebrow, clearly amused. There he was. The Ukai you knew. "What? You jealous, Keishin?" she smirked, tilting your head slightly.

Ukai scoffed, shoving his hands into his pockets as he shrugged. "Pff, me? Jealous of you? Please. We've just got more important things to do than to talk about you all day." His smirk was forced, his heartbeat still erratic from the unexpected surge of emotions.

You chuckled, not buying his deflection for a second. "Sounds like you're jealous to me," your voice was teasing, but your eyes studied him, searching for something beneath his usual bravado.

He rolled his shoulders as if shaking off an invisible weight. "Interpret it as you wish, I don't care. Today is about training our teams for the Nationals, where we're going to beat you!" he declared, arms crossing over his chest, his confidence slipping back into place like armor.

You chuckled, nodding. "We'll see about that."

With that, you both turned and walked away, heading towards your respective teams. A sigh of relief escaped you as you joined your side. Maybe things hadn't changed as much as you thought after all. The hating and rivalry was back on like normal.

The day unfolded in an intense whirlwind of drills, matches, and relentless training. The gymnasium was alive with the sounds of sneakers squeaking against polished floors, the rhythmic thud of volleyballs hitting the ground, and the sharp echoes of players calling out to one another. Every school from Tokyo had gathered, each team pushing themselves to their limits in preparation for the next big event: The Spring Tournament.

Your team, Nekoma, worked tirelessly, their bodies drenched in sweat as they executed precise receives and powerful spikes. You observed them closely, offering corrections, encouragement, and the occasional sharp reprimand when focus wavered. They had made progress, but there was always more to be done. Even more if they wanted to go to the Nationals.

Yet, between the shouts and the rallying points, you couldn't help but let your gaze wander toward Karasuno. Match after match, they struggled, losing to every opponent that faced them. Their team, already at a disadvantage, looked completely lost. It didn't take long for you to realize why. Two of their strongest players were missing—Hinata and Kageyama. Without them, Karasuno lacked cohesion, and it showed in every set they played.

As the afternoon wore on and the sun began its slow descent, casting long shadows across the gym floor, the door to the gymnasium suddenly burst open. The sharp sound of it hitting the wall made several heads turn—including yours. Two figures rushed inside, panting, their chests rising and falling as they caught their breath.

Hinata and Kageyama.

Despite their exhaustion, their eyes burned with determination, practically screaming their eagerness to play. Without wasting another second, they sprinted toward their teammates, their presence alone seeming to ignite new energy within the team. Yet, your attention wavered from them almost immediately, drawn instead to the figure that followed them inside.

A woman, older than the students, closer to your age. She had a striking presence—confident, sharp-eyed, and undeniably attractive. Her blonde hair was tousled, and there was something effortlessly cool about her stance, the way she casually scanned the gym before her eyes locked onto one of the players.

"Sis! Glad to see they made it in one piece with you driving!" Tanaka's voice boomed across the court, a teasing lilt to his words.

Immediately, the woman shot back a sharp retort, their voices rising in playful bickering. That answered one question—she was Tanaka's older sister. Interesting.

It wasn't often that you encountered other women your age in the men volleyball scene, in coaching or training environments. Maybe that was why you found yourself observing her more than necessary. There was something about her that piqued your curiosity. The way she carried herself, the ease with which she slotted into the atmosphere of the gym. It had been a long time since you had made new friends, and truth be told, she looked like the kind of person you'd get along with.

Still, there was training to finish, and you forced yourself to refocus. The matches continued, your team played well into the evening, and by the time the final whistle blew, the exhaustion was evident. The entire Nekoma squad was sprawled across the gym floor, their chests heaving as they tried to catch their breath.

You chuckled as you crouched down, looking over them with amusement. "You all okay?"

A chorus of tired but satisfied groans followed.

"Good, good," you said as you pushed yourself back up. "You worked really hard today, and I'm proud of you. But listen up—you better eat well tonight. And I mean a real meal, not just some convenience store sandwich, got it? Because tomorrow, we're training just as hard, if not harder."

Another round of tired agreements.

"Alright. You're free for the night. Go, enjoy yourselves." You held out your index finger. "But don't do anything stupid. Cause, I'm not coming to get you out of trouble in the middle of the night."

With that, the boys began peeling themselves off the floor, dragging their sore bodies toward the exit. You watched them go, a proud smile tugging at your lips.

"Looks like these boys have a hell of a coach."

The voice came from behind you, unfamiliar yet carrying an easy confidence. Turning, you found yourself face-to-face with Tanaka's sister, her arms crossed over her chest, an amused smirk on her lips.

"And a woman coach at that. Girl power right here."

You let out a small chuckle. "It's like they always say—behind every successful man is a woman."

She laughed, stepping closer before extending a hand. "I'm Saeko Tanaka, by the way. Ryunosuke's sister."

You took her hand, shaking it firmly. "Y/n Nekomata. Nekoma's coach, as I think you've gathered."

"Oh, I've heard plenty about you from my brother. I've been dying to meet you actually," she admitted, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. "A former Japan volleyball player turned coach for a boys' team? That's pretty damn rare."

"That's true," You nodded. "When my grandpa talked to the school about bringing me in, they were skeptical at first. Thought I should coach the girls' team instead. But he insisted I take over for the boys or else he would take an early retirement. In the end, they agreed."

Saeko's grin widened. "Grandpa's a feminist. I love that."

You laughed, nodding. "Yes, he is."

As you turned your gaze toward your grandfather, you noticed him deep in conversation with Takeda and Ukai. Though their words were lost in the hum of the gym, the pleased expression on your grandfather's face was enough to assure you that whatever they were discussing wasn't of concern. You exhaled softly, prepared to shift your focus back to wrapping up the evening, when suddenly, he turned in your direction, his face alight with enthusiasm as he waved you over.

"Y/n! Let's get going. We're getting dinner with Takeda and Keishin," he announced, his voice brimming with excitement as he walked away, towards you.

You raised an eyebrow, but before you could respond, he added with a grin and a lower voice, "Takeda said he'd buy me free drinks as a thank-you for inviting Karasuno. I couldn't refuse."

Ah. That explained the look of sheer delight on his face. You chuckled, shaking your head in amusement. "Well, can't say no to free drinks, right?" you teased before turning toward Saeko. "Would you like to join us?"

Saeko flashed you a smile. "Oh, I've been talking with them all afternoon. I'm already part of the party," she laughed, folding her arms as she fell into step beside you.

"Perfect then. Let's go, I'm famished-" Just as you turned back to your grandfather, you caught the peculiar way he was looking at you—eyebrow arched, lips curled into a knowing smirk. That familiar, teasing expression sent an immediate wave of suspicion through you.

"What?" you demanded, narrowing your eyes in suspicion at him.

He merely shrugged, his smirk never faltering. "Oh, nothing," he replied, a little too casually, before turning on his heel and sauntering forward.

Your eyes narrowed further. "Hey, stop doing that thing you always do," you said, quickly catching up to him. "Just say what you're clearly itching to say."

Saeko, now walking alongside you, shot your grandfather a curious glance, clearly intrigued by the exchange.

"Well, I just find it really interesting how you didn't complain about this dinner. That's all," he said, his voice laced with mischief.

Your brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I specifically said 'dinner with Keishin,'" he pointed out, his eyes glinting with amusement.

You stiffened for half a second before rolling your eyes. "Really, Grandpa? You're seriously starting with this again just because I didn't complain?" you groaned, exasperated.

He smirked, the sheer satisfaction radiating off him making you want to hurl a volleyball in his direction.

"You always pull stuff like this," you muttered. "I've just gotten used to it at this point. After the other day, I think I can handle a little dinner with Keishin."

His chuckle sent another wave of irritation through you. "Of course you can."

The smugness in his tone nearly made you trip over your own feet.

"Wait, Keishin?" Saeko interjected, eyes flicking between the two of you. "As in the hot coach of Karasuno?"

Your head snapped toward her. "Hot? H-He's not hot." You replied, a slight blush on your cheeks.

She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by your immediate dismissal. "Yeah, that one," your grandfather confirmed, his smirk growing wider.

Saeko gasped dramatically, eyes sparkling with newfound excitement. "Oh my god, is there something going on between you two?" she practically squealed.

"No!" you objected, voice nearly overlapping with your grandfather's enthusiastic "Yes."

Your jaw dropped as you whipped around to face him. "Grandpa, stop lying! There's nothing between us!"

But it was too late. Saeko was already vibrating with giddy energy, looking between the two of you as if she had just uncovered the juiciest gossip of the century.

"Oh my god! That is so exciting!" she whisper-shouted before turning her full attention to you. "Y/n, you lucky, lucky devil!"

You groaned, throwing your hands in the air. "Okay, pause. I cannot keep having the same conversation over and over again! There is nothing!"

Stopping in your tracks, you glared at the two of them, but your grandfather only chuckled, continuing his leisurely pace toward the exit. Saeko placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, though the mischief in her eyes did nothing to ease your frustration.

"Don't worry, girl," she winked. "I won't tell a soul."

With that, she walked past you, her laughter light and teasing as she caught up to your grandfather. You stood there for a moment, pressing your fingers to your temples, before sighing in utter defeat and trailing after them.

Why couldn't you just have one goddamn moment of peace with this?

***

 

Chapter 30: Jealous

Summary:

first of all: I'M SO SORRY FOR THE LATE UPDATE GUYS! 😭 Second of all: No, I didn't explode but thanks for asking🧍🏻‍♀️ I'm fine, don't worry lmaoo. I've just been so busy with everything. I arrived to a foreign country recently where I'm staying for a few months. I've been traveling around, learning a new language and I just didn't have the time to write. So, sorry about that but I'll still try to update when I can😌✨
Also, I've been receiving and reading all your comments about how much you like this story and it really means a lot to me!! 😩💞 Thank you so much for reading and waiting for the update. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Chapter Text

You followed them out of the gym, your footsteps echoing faintly against the polished wooden floor, softened only by the distant hum of voices from Karasuno's team lingering nearby. The gym doors groaned softly as they swung open, releasing you into the cool night air, carrying with it the faint, earthy scent of freshly cut grass and the sharp tang of sweat from a long day of practice.

Ahead of you, gathered under the pale glow of the streetlights, stood Ukai and Takeda, their heads bowed slightly as they spoke to Karasuno's team. The players clustered loosely around them, their energy simmering down into a quiet attentiveness. From where you stood, their voices were muffled by distance, but you caught the warm gentleness of Takeda's tone as he smiled, his eyes kind beneath his glasses.

"So enjoy your night, eat well, and have fun!" Takeda said with a soft, almost fatherly smile that made a few of the boys grin in response.

But Ukai stepped forward, his posture straightening, his hands settling firmly on his hips with the ease of someone who had done this many times before. His voice carried, cutting through the night air with firm clarity.

"Yeah, but not too much fun," he added, arching a brow in warning. "You're here to train, not cause trouble. Go to bed early. And don't do anything stupid, 'cause I'm not coming to get you out of trouble in the middle of the night. Am I clear?"

A chorus of voices echoed back obediently, "Yes, coach!"

As the team began to disperse into the night with cheerful goodnights and light laughter, you felt a nudge at your side. You turned your head slightly, catching the glint of mischief in Saeko's eyes as she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively at you. Her knowing look made you narrow your eyes at her, a quiet question written across your face, but she only grinned wider in return.

Meanwhile, your grandpa was already rubbing his hands together like an eager child promised a treat. "Alright! Let's go drink then!" Nekomata declared, his voice filled with the excitement of a man with a singular mission.

Crossing your arms with a soft, amused sigh, you interjected, "And eat, Grandpa."

He waved a dismissive hand at you without even looking back. "Yeah, yeah, that too."

Takeda chuckled lightly as he approached, a soft, almost shy sound that warmed the moment. "Don't worry, Mr. Nekomata. Where we're going, there will be plenty of choices."

Your grandpa grinned broadly, thumping Takeda on the back in what was clearly meant to be an affectionate gesture—though it sent the poor man stumbling forward a step.

Takeda struggled to right himself, his polite smile not faltering even as he coughed slightly from the impact. You couldn't help but chuckle quietly, stepping up beside him, placing a light, teasing hand at the small of his back.

"You alright there, buddy?" you asked with a glint of amusement in your eyes.

"Y-Yep..." he managed, his voice thin.

You patted him softly on the shoulder. "Come on, you got him all excited for drinks. We better hurry before he downs the restaurant's entire stock."

Takeda gave a small, breathless laugh, falling into step beside you. Ukai and Saeko trailed close behind, their footsteps quieter, but you could feel Ukai's eyes lingering, watching you and Takeda with an unreadable expression.

Breaking the silence, Takeda cleared his throat nervously. "S-So, I saw how Nekoma played today. They're even stronger than the last time we played together."

Turning your face to him, you smiled lightly. "Yeah, they've been training hard. Losing at the preliminaries really stung. But it also fired them up even more for Nationals. I have no doubt we'll meet on that stage for the Spring Tournament."

Takeda's cheeks flushed, his expression shining with genuine admiration. "I'm sure we will! Karasuno has been training just as hard!"

You nodded slowly, your gaze thoughtful. "I saw that today. They've got a lot to improve, sure, but I can really see their potential. They've got that spark... and honestly, if it weren't for you, they wouldn't even have the chance to practice with all these schools. You're the reason they're here. They're lucky to have you, Ittetsu."

His eyes widened, his blush deepening, heart skipping under your words. "I-I... It was all thanks to your grandpa for inviting us, really! I-I didn't do much!" he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

You chuckled. "You don't give yourself enough credit. Even if you're not the coach, organizing everything behind the scenes is just as important."

"T-Thanks," he breathed, a shy but happy smile curving his lips.

You returned his smile effortlessly. "Of course. It's only the truth."

He opened his mouth again, nerves still dancing in his chest. "Hey... I wanted to ask you if—"

But before the words could leave him, Ukai appeared between the two of you once again like a whirlwind of energy, slinging an arm casually over both your shoulders with a cocky grin. "Alright, alright, let's go inside already. I'm starving, and the restaurant is right in front of us. Let's go!"

You stumbled slightly, caught off guard as he began herding you toward the entrance with surprising strength. "Hey, wait—!" you protested, but Ukai paid no mind, steering you both straight through the door.

Inside, the warm light of the restaurant wrapped around you like a cozy blanket. The hum of conversation and the clinking of dishes filled the air. Ukai's eyes immediately landed on a table near the back where Yasufumi Nekomata was already seated, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

"Oh look, someone's even more impatient than I am," Ukai commented dryly.

You snorted, crossing your arms. "You know how he is. Mention alcohol and he becomes unstoppable."

Turning your gaze to Ukai, you caught him watching you, his confident facade slipping for a fraction of a second as your eyes met.

"You can let go of me now, weirdo. We're inside, just like you wanted," you deadpanned, arching a brow.

Ukai blinked, clearing his throat as he quickly unwrapped his arm from your shoulders. Shaking your head with faint amusement, you finally made your way over to the table, the faintest of smiles tugging at the corner of your mouth.

Saeko had already taken her seat, her posture relaxed yet confident, right across from your grandfather at the low wooden table. The soft murmur of the bustling restaurant surrounded you, the gentle clinking of ceramic dishes and faint laughter from other patrons filling the warm, amber-lit room. The faint, comforting aroma of grilled fish and simmering miso curled through the air, grounding you in the moment.

You slipped into the seat beside her, feeling the smooth, cool surface of the cushion beneath you. Saeko greeted you with that easy, dazzling smile of hers, the kind that held both mischief and warmth in equal measure. Instinctively, you mirrored her expression, your lips curving in response.

Two empty seats remained. One was directly beside you. The other lay across from you, next to your grandfather. A subtle tension unfurled in the air as footsteps approached, slow and deliberate against the polished wooden floor.

Ukai and Takeda came into view, their pace naturally falling in sync as they reached the table. Yet their movements faltered just a little as they took in the arrangement of seats before them. Takeda's gaze flitted between the available options, and then to Ukai, whose golden eyes were already fixed on you with a quiet intensity.

You barely noticed them, already leaning in toward Saeko and your grandfather, your voices dipping into casual conversation that danced easily between stories and laughter.

Takeda gave a small, almost sheepish smile as he turned to Ukai, his voice dropping to a whisper only Ukai could hear. "Don't worry, I'll take the seat next to Y/N since I know how much you hate being near her."

The words were genuine, sincere, even teasing in their kindness, and Ukai's jaw tensed ever so slightly. The muscles along his neck coiled tight, but he said nothing as Takeda moved forward with that same gentle, unassuming demeanor of his.

Takeda settled beside you, his presence a calming, comfortable thing. Ukai remained standing for a breath longer, rooted to the spot. His gaze lingered on you—on the way you laughed quietly at something Saeko said, on the way Takeda leaned in just slightly toward you. Something smoldered behind his sharp gaze, an ember of frustration barely concealed.

He finally exhaled a slow breath through his nose and moved forward, each step measured. The chair beside your grandfather scraped quietly against the floor as he claimed it, his movements deliberate. Still, his eyes flicked back toward you and Takeda with a sharpened edge of focus.

A server approached, bowing politely, their voice soft and practiced as they took everyone's orders, including the drinks. You could feel the faint thrum of Ukai's quiet tension in front of you, his presence like a taut string pulled tight.

It wasn't long before the table filled with fragrant dishes—steaming bowls of rice, glistening sashimi, skewers of expertly grilled meat. You excitedly dug into it, the flavours melting on your tongue. Even if you weren't playing, coaching was still taking a lot of energy and a good meal would always be apreciated. 

Takeda turned to you with a smile, offering you a plate filled with a variety of sushis, from which you gladly took your picks as you continued your conversation with him.

Ukai's jaw tightened at the sight, while his eyes shifted to an item sitting at the center of it all. It was a tall, elegant bottle of sake, the amber liquid catching the light like liquid gold.

As soon as the server poured Ukai's first glass, he lifted it with little ceremony and downed it in one fluid motion. The warmth of the alcohol barely seemed to register on his composed expression.

"Another, please," he murmured, his voice low, almost gravelly.

The server hesitated for just a fraction of a second, surprise flashing in their eyes before they wordlessly complied, pouring another measure before leaving the bottle beside him.

Without waiting, Ukai drank again, the motion quick and mechanical. His hand returned to the bottle, fingers tightening around the slender neck as though it grounded him.

From beside him, Nekomata gave a low, amused chuckle. "Whoa there, slow down, tiger. Need I remind you this bottle is for everyone?"

Ukai's eyes met his, unreadable, guarded. "It's been a long day, Yasufumi. I need it."

Nekomata's grin widened, but there was a glint of something knowing in his eyes as his gaze shifted briefly toward you and Takeda, your conversation spilling over in warm laughter and easy banter. "Ah, I see," He placed a hand on Ukai's shoulder, voice dropping to that gravelly, coach-like tone.

"Y'know, sometimes a good coach has to sub in the right player before it's too late. Before the other team snatches the point right from under you. Game's not over until the whistle blows, Keishin," He leaned in closer. "Don't let the opportunity pass you by."

Ukai's eyes widened just barely, the words sinking in deeper than he cared to admit. Before he could respond, Nekomata had already withdrawn his hand, his attention seemingly returned to his food, leaving the words to simmer in the air.

Conversation resumed, Saeko answering questions about Karasuno with her usual charm, but Ukai's world had narrowed to the sound of your laughter—the sight of Takeda leaning just a little closer to you.

His grip tightened on the sake bottle again as he poured himself another drink, downing it in one go, the burn barely registering.

"Oh my god! Did he really do that?" Your voice rang out, melodic with laughter, catching his attention like a magnet.

Takeda nodded, his own laughter warm and genuine. "Yes! When the ball knocked him over and he came back to himself, the first thing he noticed was that his wig was gone! He searched all around him, frantically asking where it was before running out of the gym so fast, if I'd blinked, I'd have missed it!"

Your laughter burst free again, bright and unguarded. "No, this is too good!" You wiped a tear from the corner of your eye, the joy of the moment leaving your cheeks flushed.

Takeda chuckled, touching his chin thoughtfully. "I still don't know where it disappeared. One second he had the wig on, the next it had vanished."

You giggled, the memory vivid in your mind. "Oh god, maybe I should tell you," you said conspiratorially.

Takeda's eyes lit up with intrigue. "But you can't tell anyone or we're dead," you warned, holding your index finger close to his face in mock-seriousness.

"I would never," he promised, hand over his heart.

You leaned in slightly, lowering your voice. "It was my fault. I dared Keishin to take it and put it back in his office."

Takeda's jaw dropped, a mixture of shock and amusement flooding his face. "No, you didn't!" He burst out laughing, the sound rich and genuine. "Oh my god! That was genius!"

The brightness of your expression softened, the shared laughter easing something in your chest. "Gosh, I was having such a hard time conversing with that guy. Every word out of his mouth was an insult to volleyball, to the team, to all the effort we put in. Honestly, that ball landing on his face was a godsend." His hand covered yours, warm and sincere while Ukai's fist clenched from underneath the table. "Thank you for saving me from that conversation. You're amazing."

Your breath caught slightly at the unexpected touch, your gaze flicking down to where your hands met. "I-uh..." you started, a nervous flutter stirring in your stomach.

"That was my plan, thank you very much." Ukai's voice cut in suddenly, sharp and unmistakably irritated.

You turned your head, finding his golden gaze locked onto you, his expression tight with something unspoken. Without even thinking, you slipped your hand from beneath Takeda's, your pulse thrumming a little faster than before.

"Well, it was genius, Ukai!" Takeda said, voice light with tipsy amusement, leaning slightly closer to the table as if the secret was too good to keep. "I didn't even see you take the wig and run off. Damn, I wish I could've seen his face when he found it again."

Takeda's laughter rang out again, pure and genuine, drawing a small smile from you. He wasn't a heavy drinker, that much was obvious, but it only made his reactions all the more endearing. You could see the slight unfocused gleam in his eyes, the way his posture was a little too relaxed.

"It was pretty funny," you admitted, a chuckle escaping your lips. You caught Ukai's glance across the table — sharp, unreadable. "He started talking to his wig like it was alive."

"Really?" Takeda leaned in, curiosity wide in his eyes. "How did you see that?"

Your laugh faltered. A flush bloomed across your cheeks before you could stop it, your fingers fiddling with the hem of your sleeve. The memory, vivid and far too intimate, resurfaced like a wave crashing.

"I-uh... well—" you stuttered, voice cracking slightly.

"We were hiding in his supply closet," Ukai cut in smoothly, his voice low and a little too pleased. You whipped your head towards him, your gaze locking onto his satisfied smirk. Your blush deepened.

Takeda's eyes widened, then he let out an incredulous laugh. "Oh wow, you guys are crazy. I've seen that closet. It's not big. How did you even fit in there?"

You swallowed hard. Before you could respond, Ukai leaned back casually, draping an arm over the back of his chair, and said, "Oh, we fit in alright. Just had to get... a little close." He shot a pointed glance at you, and you raised an eyebrow at him, puzzled by the strange shift in his demeanor. His words had a loaded edge, the air suddenly feeling thicker, more charged.

"R-Right," Takeda started as you glanced back at him, "Well, I'm glad you pulled that prank on him. That guy's been a constant pain in my...ash...about the volleyball team," Takeda said, sighing heavily.

You couldn't help but chuckle at his hesitation to swear. It was adorable, in its own right.

"At your service," you said with a playful salute. Takeda's expression brightened. "We actually pulled all sorts of pranks on him back in high school," you continued, your voice light with nostalgia. "Even if I wasn't officially part of Karasuno. We were definitely his worst nightmare."

"No way! You did more?!" Takeda asked, his enthusiasm infectious.

You nodded, grinning. "So much more. It got so bad he organized a whole general assembly demanding the 'criminals' come clean. Swore he'd find us and expel us."

You leaned in conspiratorially, voice dropping to a playful whisper. "He never caught us," you said proudly, winking.

Ukai let out a low chuckle, his eyes glinting. "We were too good to get caught."

"He never stood a chance against us anyway," you added, smiling at the memory.

"Damn right, he didn't," Ukai murmured, but his gaze — sharp, assessing — slid sideways to Takeda. There was something in that glance, something that prickled uneasily against your skin.

You picked up your chopsticks, occupying your hands with food to escape the strange tension settling over the table. Your gaze flicked between Takeda and Ukai, noting the slight tightness around Ukai's mouth, the way his shoulders seemed just a little too tense. He was acting...

Weird. Definitely weird. Even weirder than at the family reunion.

Maybe if you got a little drunk, the awkwardness would dissolve into the background noise. Without thinking much of it, you grabbed your glass of sake and downed it in one swift motion.

"Wow, just like that?" Takeda's voice broke through your thoughts, laced with amazement.

You blinked at him, confused. "What?"

He nodded toward your empty glass, eyebrows raised. "The sake. You drank it down in one go!"

You glanced down, a sheepish laugh escaping you. "O-Oh, yeah," you said, rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly. "I was just... pretty thirsty. And the sake here is really good," you added, putting down the bottle in an attempt to make yourself feel less like an alcoholic.

Takeda laughed warmly. "Is it? I haven't tried it yet. Would you pour me one?" he asked, holding out his cup.

Relieved he wasn't judging you for the alcoholic you were, you smiled and obliged, carefully filling his glass. You watched as he lifted it to his lips, his face immediately scrunching up the moment the liquid touched his tongue.

He coughed, nearly choking, and you burst out laughing at the sight. He looked so flustered and betrayed by the taste, it was impossible not to.

Takeda laughed too, though his cheeks flushed even deeper. "Hey, are you judging me?" he asked, mock-offended as he gently pushed your shoulder.

"No, no! I would never!" you said between giggles, pressing a hand over your mouth to stifle them.

"Then why are you laughing?" he challenged, still laughing himself.

You tried to turn your face away, but it was no use. "I'm not! I'm not!"

He reached out, a hand settling warmly on your shoulder as he tried to pull you gently toward him to get a look at your face. "Yes, you are! I can see you face, you liar."

"I'm not!" you insisted weakly, still laughing, your cheeks sore from smiling so much.

But across the table, another kind of tension was building, thick and suffocating.

Ukai sat rigid, his eyes locked onto the two of you, the muscle in his jaw ticking visibly and his patience wearing thinner by the second, the sound of your laughter like needles driving deeper under his skin.

He didn't say a word. But the heat of his stare burned hotter than any flame.

But as Takeda put his hand firmly on your shoulder, pulling you closer as you laughed like he had just whispered the world's funniest joke into your ear, Ukai's jaw clenched so tightly it felt like he might crack a molar. His eyes burned holes into the table, flickering dangerously to the sight before him.

Ukai's fingers twitched, the edge of his index tapping an erratic rhythm against the polished wood. His blood simmered, a heavy, pounding thing he felt in every inch of his body. It wasn't just annoyance—it was a storm of jealousy so thick he could barely think past it. How were you already laughing with him again? After Ukai had worked so hard to pull your attention away, to reel you back toward him? 

In a matter of seconds, he'd become invisible to you again. You were too busy laughing with him to even see notice.

He needed to act. Fast.

"Hey, it's not my fault you hold your alcohol well and I don't," Takeda said, his voice light, but to Ukai it was nails on a chalkboard.

That's when the idea sparked.

A slow, sly smirk stretched across Ukai's lips, dangerous and full of trouble. If there was one thing he knew better than anyone, it was how to get under your skin. If he wanted your attention, he'd have it. By any means necessary.

"Her? Holding her alcohol well? Please," he scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning lazily back in his chair.

You blinked, the laughter dying on your lips as you turned to him, one eyebrow arching high with interest.

"Oh yeah? Because you do?" you challenged, adjusting your position to face him fully now, your arms casually but firmly resting on the table.

Ukai's smirk widened into something almost feral. "Well, better than you, that's for sure."

Your eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. "I highly doubt that," you retorted, your voice coated in false sweetness.

He let out a low chuckle. "Need I remind you of a certain party we went to back in high school?" he teased, voice dripping with amusement.

At his words, your spine stiffened ever so slightly, a rosy hue blooming at the tops of your cheeks. You knew exactly what night he meant—the night you got way too friendly with whiskey and woke up swearing you'd never touch it again.

Still, you weren't about to let him win this.

You leaned in, a devilish glint lighting up your eyes. "Need I remind you of a certain night at Yoshida's house—?"

Ukai's eyes widened like saucers, the color draining slightly from his face before he coughed and quickly cleared his throat, cutting you off.

"Alright, alright, fair enough," he mumbled, embarrassment clinging to him as he scratched the back of his head.

The memory—one of your favorites—surfaced clear as day. One of Nekoma's more popular girls had thrown a party at her house. Ukai had gotten so trashed, you found him hours later passed out in a dumpster... cuddling a raccoon like it was his long-lost lover. You still had the photo tucked safely away in your phone.

He recovered quickly, the gleam of challenge back in his eyes.

"But still," he said, his gaze locking onto you like a magnet. "Years passed. We've grown. I can hold my liquor." He leaned forward, resting his arms against the table, voice dropping into a low, taunting tone. "A lot better than you."

Your eyes flashed with excitement at the challenge. That was more like it. This—this was familiar. This was your language with him. The stubbornness, the rivalry, the banter that danced so dangerously close to something more.

"If you're so sure," you said slowly, your voice sweet as honey but sharp underneath, "then let's make a bet."

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

"We only drink shots of sake, and count the ones we've already took to start from the same base," you explained, the corners of your lips curling into a smirk. "The one that drinks the most shots without throwing up or passing out, wins."

Across the table, Takeda's concerned expression flicked between the two of you. Saeko's interest piqued, her eyebrow arching with amusement, while Nekomata merely sighed, resigned but entertained.

"Here we go again," Nekomata muttered into his glass.

Ukai tilted his head, cocky and fearless. "Fine by me. But what does the winner get?"

You leaned back in your chair, tapping your finger against your chin as if pondering deeply, before your lips curved into a wicked smile.

"Mmm," you mused, "I think the tap dance can be brought back to the table."

Ukai's eyes widened momentarily in disbelief before he burst out laughing—a single, rough bark of amusement—and then leaned across the table, offering his hand.

"Deal."

You slipped your hand into his, the warmth of his skin nearly making you flinch from the sudden rush of electricity shooting up your arm. You swallowed it down, focusing instead on tightening your grip.

"I won't be so merciful when you lose this time," you teased, squeezing a little harder.

Ukai's smirk deepened as he mirrored the pressure. "I won't have to worry about it. You'll be the one tapping away, princess."

You pulled your hand back, rolling your eyes but unable to hide your smile. You grabbed the nearest shot glass, filled it with sake, and held it up, the clear liquid catching the light.

"We'll see about that," you said, your voice low with challenge.

Without breaking eye contact, you downed the shot in one swift motion, slamming the empty glass onto the table.

"And that's one," you declared.

Ukai, never one to be shown up, poured his own shot, lifted it in a mocking little toast, and tipped it back just as easily. The empty glass hit the table with a decisive thud.

"I hope you're ready to dance, princess. Drunk or sober," he murmured with a wicked glint in his eye.

You grabbed the bottle, pouring generous shots for the both of you, heart pounding with excitement, nerves, and something else you didn't dare name.

The first shots had been thrown. Your attention was on him. And the real game was just beginning.

***

Chapter 31: The Cost of Silence

Chapter Text

Takeda nervously raised both hands, a strained smile tugging at his lips as he looked between the two of you. "Guys, maybe this isn't an entirely good idea..."

His tone was hesitant, nearly drowned out by the clink of bottles and the soft hum of the restaurant around you. You turned toward him, the expression on your face shifting into one of reassurance as you leaned forward slightly, your eyes softening.

"Don't worry about me, Ittetsu," you said with a comforting grin, voice light but laced with the competitive glint that never failed to appear around Ukai. Then, shifting your gaze to Ukai, your smile curved into something more mischievous. "If anything, you should be more worried about him not being able to coach Karasuno tomorrow. Though to make up for it, he'll have a nice surprise to show them in a few days, isn't that right?"

Ukai chuckled at that, his arms crossing loosely over his chest as he leaned back in his chair with an amused glint in his eyes. "That's true. I can't wait to show them your tap dancing skills and the choreography you'll prepare."

The quickfire exchange made you let out a laugh—short, but genuine. His repartee had always been sharp, always matched yours toe to toe, and it drove you insane in the most irritatingly fun way.

"Now, Y/n is right, Ittetsu," Ukai said, still smirking. "No need to worry. I'll have her passed out and back in her bed, sleeping like a baby, in no time."

You raised a single eyebrow, lips quirking upward as you reached for your glass.

"Speaking of time—stop trying to delay your inevitable failure and get things going already," you said, holding your glass aloft.

Ukai responded with a lazy grin. "Never seen someone so impatient to lose, but alright," he said, lifting his own glass.

"That's because I'm going to win," you shot back. The two of you clinked glasses, the soft chime oddly final, and together, you downed the second shot of the bet.

The warm burn of the alcohol slid down your throat, and you placed your glass back on the table in sync with Ukai, the both of you locked in a steady gaze. Without speaking, you each reached for the sake bottle. The clinking and pouring became rhythmic, a ritual of silent determination. Another shot. Then another. Then another. Eight glasses in, and although the flush of alcohol had begun to rise in your cheeks, your resolve was far from breaking. Still, the sharp edge of the drink had begun to scratch at the back of your throat, each swallow less graceful than the last.

Ukai exhaled slowly, elbows resting on the table as he leaned forward, hands folded in front of him. "Well," he drawled, "this is getting a bit boring, don't you think?"

You mirrored his posture, tilting your head. "I was just about to say the same thing."

He nodded once. "Great. Then how about we spice things up?"

You raised a curious brow, your fingers already curling around the neck of the sake bottle as you began pouring again. "I'm listening."

"Let's have mini-challenges. Little bets within the bet," he said, his voice laced with excitement and something far more dangerous: intent. "I could dare you to do something for a specific number of shots. If you lose, you drink. However, in the very little possibility that you manage to do it, I drink the shots instead."

The idea intrigued you, and your expression revealed as much. You leaned back slightly, tilting your head again with that familiar competitive smirk.

"Fine with me," you said, taking your next shot without hesitation. "That way I'll win faster."

"Sure," He laughed sarcastically as he followed suit, downing his shot with ease. "And to help you, I'll even give you the honor of daring me first."

He leaned back into his chair with a casual confidence that had your mind racing with possibilities.

Nearby, Saeko nudged Yasufumi with her elbow, her eyes practically glittering with excitement. "This is getting more interesting by the minute," she whispered.

Yasufumi chuckled quietly, never taking his eyes off the two of you. "This is only the beginning unfortunately," he murmured.

"Even better," Saeko grinned, crossing her arms and watching you both with the anticipation of someone observing a fireworks show.

Nekomata merely sighed into his drink, shaking his head as he sipped leisurely. His eyes flicked from you to Ukai and back, a mix of fondness and exasperation darkening his gaze. Why did everything with you two always have to be so complicated?

Ukai leaned back in his chair, a sly grin creeping across his face as he turned to you. His arms rested casually, confidently, but there was a glint of anticipation in his eyes. "So," he drawled, voice thick with challenge, "are you going to make me wait all night for a dare? If you don't have any ideas, you could just call forfeit now."

You tilted your head slowly toward him, eyes narrowing with mischief as a playful smirk tugged at the corners of your lips. You didn't answer immediately, letting the silence stretch between you like a tightening rope, one Ukai was clearly enjoying. Finally, your gaze shifted slightly, and with a barely-there motion of your chin, you gestured toward the bar behind him.

"See that blonde sitting over there?" you asked, your tone deceptively casual as if this were no more than a passing observation. Ukai turned slightly to glance discreetly over his shoulder, catching sight of the woman in question—a striking blonde in a sleek black dress, laughing softly with her friend at the bar.

"Yeah?" he asked, eyebrows raised with curiosity as he turned his attention back to you.

Your smirk widened. "You have to go up to her and ask for her number," you began, pausing just long enough for him to prepare himself for what seemed like a simple task. Then you added, with deliberate slowness: "But you can't say the letter 'e'."

Ukai blinked. "Wait, what?"

"You heard me," you said, crossing your arms with satisfaction. "If she doesn't give you her number, or if you slip and use a word with the letter 'e', you drink five shots."

He let out a bark of laughter and shook his head. "That's it? Pff, too easy," he scoffed, rising to his feet and brushing off invisible lint from his shirt like he was heading into battle. You watched him go with barely concealed excitement, rubbing your hands together as though you were a villain about to witness their grand plan unfold.

"I'll be right back," Takeda said sheepishly as he excused himself, slipping away toward the bathroom, his expression somewhere between bemused and concerned.

At the bar, Ukai approached the women with the easy swagger of someone confident in both his charm and his odds. You, Saeko, and your grandfather watched from afar, all eyes locked on the unfolding scene.

Ukai cleared his throat and offered the blonde a charismatic smile. "Good night," he said. So far, so good.

The woman turned toward him, smile intrigued. "Hi there."

Ukai paused for a second, then dove in. "You look... dazzling. Bright aura. Radiant. A charm." He flinched slightly, internally cursing how awkward it sounded. But he pressed on.

The woman raised a curious eyebrow. "Uh... thank you?"

"Your call info, may I gain it? For contact, talks, or... outings?" Ukai continued, his voice tight, as if each word was being carefully peeled off a mental blacklist.

She giggled, amused. "You're talking so weird."

Ukai put a hand to his chest. "No odd talk. I am... normal. Valid. Human guy. With goals."

That sent Saeko into a fit of laughter. "Damn. I gotta admit, he's pretty good at this," she said, shaking her head in admiration.

"Okay, no. There's no way he's getting that number," you muttered, leaning forward in disbelief. You watched Ukai's lips move with exaggerated caution, eyes darting slightly as he avoided every linguistic landmine. But to your utter dismay, the blonde giggled again, took his phone, and punched in her number with a smile.

Ukai gave you a triumphant look from across the room, raising his phone like a trophy before slipping it back into his pocket.

You groaned, dropping your head onto the table with a dramatic thud. "What? Come on! How did she just give it to him after that weird speech?! Literally, how?!"

Saeko chuckled, swirling her drink as she leaned toward you. "Well, I think you miscalculated one thing."

You looked up at her, frowning. "What?"

She leaned in, smirking with that all-knowing older sister vibe. "He's crazy hot, y/n."

You turned to her like she'd just confessed to loving clowns. "What are you even talking about?"

"Come on, are you seriously saying you don't find that guy super attractive? Look at him!" she gestured toward Ukai, who was still—somehow—holding an awkward but oddly charming conversation without using the letter 'e'. "He's tall, he's cute, he's absolutely shredded. Of course this chick is giving him her number. Any chick would give him their number."

You scoffed, arms folding tightly across your chest. "He's not that hot."

Saeko took a sip of her drink and gave you a look. "I know a lie when I hear one."

"Whatever. And what is he still doing talking with her anyway? Didn't he already take her number?" you asked, your voice rising slightly as you gestured toward the bar.

Saeko raised a brow. "Mm, I don't know, girl, but you did send him toward a really pretty girl. Maybe they're hitting it off."

You furrowed your brows, eyes narrowing as you turned back to the sight of Ukai casually laughing with the blonde.

"Hitting it off? Please, Keishin is insufferable. Besides, what does he even see in her?"

Saeko didn't answer right away, just looked at you with an amused expression. "Wow, jealous much?"

You whipped your head around, scandalized. "Me? Jealous?! Do you even hear yourself?!"

She said nothing. Just smiled.

"I'm not jealous," you insisted again, more forcefully this time as you turned back to Ukai, jaw tight.

Saeko set down her glass gently. "Sure, whatever you say. But a piece of advice—from one girl to another?"

You glanced at her cautiously.

She smiled. "If you let a bouquet this fine sit too long, someone else is gonna pick it right off the stand, babe. And trust me, they won't ask twice."

You didn't reply. You didn't have a reply. Your arms were still folded, your body still slumped in an expression of disinterest—but your eyes remained fixed on Ukai.

Only now, your stare wasn't angry. It was... deep in thoughts.

You watched, arms crossed tightly against your chest, as Ukai tilted his head back and laughed—a laugh so genuine and easy that it rang through the low hum of the restaurant like a chime on a windless day. It wasn't the laugh itself that made your brow furrow, though. It was the way the blond woman beside him mirrored it a beat later, leaning toward him with sparkling eyes and that syrupy, too-sweet voice of hers. "You're so funnyyy," she giggled, drawing out the word like it was dipped in honey and meant to stick to his skin. Her manicured fingers reached out, settling lightly on his arm like it was hers to touch. A rush of something prickled under your skin, foreign and unwelcome—sharp and bitter. You didn't have a name for it, not really. But it made your jaw tense and your throat dry.

She was ridiculous. Ridiculous in the way she laughed too loudly, leaned too close, touched too freely. And yet, there he was—laughing along with her, drinking in her attention like it was the only thing on the menu. Maybe that's what he liked, you thought. Girls like her. Simple, sparkly distractions. If that was his thing, good for him. You didn't care.

But even as you turned your head away with a scoff, your eyes betrayed you—lingering in the corners, flicking back to him when you thought no one would notice. But you didn't care.

"Well, I guess you have to drink five shots," Saeko said suddenly, breaking through your thoughts. Her voice had that mischievous lilt, as though she knew exactly what was going through your head. You turned to her, thankful for the interruption.

"Finally, some good news," you sighed dramatically, snatching the bottle of sake and pouring your first shot. You downed it in one go, the burn chasing some of the bitterness from your throat. But not all. You poured again, your eyes never truly leaving Ukai, even as you tilted your head back for the second, then third, fourth. By the fifth, your chest felt warmer, your limbs looser, but your mind was still too sharp—too focused on that damned smirk across the room.

Right on cue, Ukai swaggered back to the table, holding out his phone like a trophy. "Challenge succeeded," he declared, and the smugness in his tone only made the ache in your gut tighten.

"Good for you," you replied flatly, trying not to let the irritation in your voice give you away. But he grinned wider.

"I know, I know. You can't handle how incredible I am, but next time, try a more challenging dare." He dropped back into his seat, his confidence suffocating the air between you.

"Now, drink your shots."

"I already did," you snapped before he could push further. He turned to Saeko for confirmation and, of course, she nodded.

"Alright then. No need to be a sore loser. We're just getting started, after all." He rubbed his hands together like a cartoon villain, clearly pleased with himself. "Now, it's my turn."

You barely heard him. Your fingers tapped rhythmically on the tabletop, a quiet staccato matching your simmering mood.

"I dare you five shots to go up to someone and make them dance with you—but you can't use words. Only gestures."

Your head whipped toward him. "What? Here? In the restaurant? Are you crazy?!"

He only shrugged, that damnable smirk still in place. "Well, if you're no fun, you can always choose to drink the five shots instead."

You looked at him for a second, your eyes narrowing before a resigning sighed escaped you. "I hate you so much," you muttered under your breath as you stood up, ignoring the way Saeko was now fully invested in the drama. Ukai waved after you with a little wiggle of his fingers.

"Have fun~"

Exasperated, you stalked away from the table, scanning the restaurant like a hawk hunting for prey. Your mind raced. Who could you pick? Who wouldn't immediately think you were completely unhinged? You spotted the same two women Ukai had talked to and immediately nixed the idea. No way in hell. Then your eyes drifted to a table of older couples—definitely not. They'd think you were having a seizure. You needed someone uninhibited, someone who would roll with it.

That's when you saw them. A group of college guys in the back corner, clearly several drinks deep and already too loud for the cozy atmosphere. One had a glittery party hat perched sideways on his head. Perfect.

You approached with purpose and zero dignity. The one closest to you had red-rimmed eyes and a sleepy grin. You tapped his shoulder, and when he turned, he lit up like you were the party's next event.

"Hey there, pretty princess. What can I help you with?" he asked, voice thick with amusement and whatever else he'd been drinking.

You smiled sweetly but didn't say a word. Instead, you reached for his hand and started to sway to the faint music drifting through the speakers. He blinked once, then laughed, immediately rising to his feet to follow your lead.

Too easy, you thought to yourself.

However, before you knew it, the rest of the table was on their feet, joining in with whoops and cheers. You hadn't expected to create a dance floor in the middle of the restaurant, but somehow, you'd managed. Half in disbelief, half in defiance, you danced anyway—because if Ukai could charm a blond with his stupid alphabet trick, you sure as hell could do this.

As the music continued to hum faintly in the background, a whimsical melody barely loud enough to sway to, you moved with practiced ease among the group of college boys. The laughter and energy around you were intoxicating, their carefree cheers blending with your own light chuckles. You twirled lightly, the motion playful and fluid, your fingers still loosely intertwined with the young man who had eagerly joined you.

But as you turned your body, your head followed, and your eyes sought out the one person who wasn't dancing. Across the room, leaning back in his chair with arms crossed and brows subtly pinched together, Ukai met your gaze. The second your smirk curled at the corners of your lips, his expression tensed. That faint scowl—the slight narrowing of his sharp eyes, the twitch in his jaw—was everything. It was glorious. The kind of small, satisfying win that warmed your chest far more than the sake ever could. You held his gaze for a few moments longer, savoring the shift in his body language, before you turned your attention back to the lively group of guys around you.

The young man you were dancing with—blond, blue-eyed, tanned, clearly tipsy but still somehow endearing—spun you around with a laugh and exaggerated his goofy moves, earning loud cheers from his friends. He was sweet in the way drunk boys often were, trying too hard to impress with awkward flailing and dimpled smiles. You let yourself chuckle, grateful at least for how easy he'd made the dare. But you felt the moment waning; your mission was complete.

You gently slowed your movements, your fingers still resting in his hand. "So, what's your name, pretty girl?" he asked, his voice coated in cheerful curiosity.

You smiled politely, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "It's y/n. And you?"

"Brandon," he replied, flashing a grin that was probably his default charm setting. "But you can call me anytime."

The audacity of the line made you raise your brows. It was so unabashedly cheesy, so comically bad, you couldn't help but laugh, the sound slipping from your lips before you could stop it.

"I'm really sorry for troubling you," you said as your laughter faded into a more sincere smile. "But thank you for helping me with this."

Brandon tilted his head, squinting at you in playful confusion. "Helping with what?"

"One of my friends dared me to get someone to dance with me using only gestures," you explained with a soft chuckle, your eyes flicking briefly over your shoulder toward Ukai, who still hadn't looked away. "So, thank you for that. I succeeded because of you and your friends."

Brandon's mouth formed an 'O' before he burst out laughing. "Ohhh, so that's why! I thought you were just pulling some creative move to flirt."

You immediately waved your hands, the corners of your lips drawn into an embarrassed grimace. "Oh no, I'm so sorry if it came across like that... I didn't want you to take it the wrong way."

He shook his head, brushing your concern off with a grin. "No harm done. We all do dumb dares. Besides," he gestured behind him to his group of friends still dancing and laughing loudly, "you made their night even better. We're probably hitting a club after this now."

You laughed again, genuinely this time, warmth blooming in your chest at his good-natured response.

"However," he added, with a more pointed look, "I wouldn't mind getting to know a fun and cute girl like you."

His tone was soft, his gaze earnest, and for a second, your heart stuttered. "Oh... I-I, well—" you began, fumbling, your voice unexpectedly small.

Brandon chuckled, holding his hands up in a mock surrender. "Sorry, didn't mean to throw you off. You probably already have a boyfriend."

Your mouth opened, then closed again. Your teeth found your lower lip. "I... not exactly, but..."

Brandon's smile turned knowing. "Ah but definetly someone in mind?"

The way he asked it was gentle, like he already knew the answer. And involuntarily, your eyes betrayed you. Just for a second, they shifted to where Ukai sat, unmoving, his expression darkened with barely-concealed frustration. Brandon followed your gaze, then looked back at you with an amused glint.

"Oh, is that him?" he leaned closer with a teasing grin.

You jumped slightly, stepping back and crossing your arms defensively. "W-What? No! We're just friends! Not even friends, more like colleagues. Not even that — he's more like an unavoidable, annoying acquaintance."

He laughed again, clearly not buying a word of it. "I see. Well, that unavoidable and annoying acquaintance is a lucky guy."His words hit you with an unexpected softness. "But hey, if you ever change your mind about getting to know each other or if you need a friend, I'm always a call away." He reached into his pocket and handed you a small, folded piece of paper.

You blinked, unfolding it to find a phone number inside. "How? When did you write this?"

Brandon winked. "Kinda lame, but I always keep one ready just in case I get the chance to talk to a pretty girl like you."

Your cheeks unexpectedly slightly warmed.

His eyes trailed to the side with a subtle smirk tugging at his lips before he returned his gaze to you, a flicker of mischief in his eyes as he stepped just a little closer, his voice dropping to a gentler, more earnest tone. "It was really nice to meet you, y/n," he said softly, his hand coming up to give your shoulder a light, friendly pat that somehow lingered in its warmth. There was sincerity in his words, an easy kindness that made the moment feel oddly comforting. And then, as if revealing a secret, he added with a grin that held more insight than you expected, "And if you want my opinion, that acquaintance definitely likes you back."

You blinked, furrowing your brows in confusion, caught off guard by the sudden turn in conversation. "What do you mean—" you began, your words starting slowly, hesitant, trying to piece together what exactly he meant. But you didn't get the chance to finish. Before the thought could even settle, a familiar presence swept in between the two of you like a gust of wind that carried both heat and irritation. A firm but gentle hand was suddenly on your shoulder, guiding you subtly away, and when you turned your head in confusion, your eyes landed on Ukai standing right beside you.

His expression was unmistakable—tight-lipped, eyes narrowed, every angle of his face carved with annoyance that didn't bother to hide itself. "Okay, are you done here? Because at this rate, I'm gonna fall asleep before I can even pass out from the alcohol," he said flatly, his tone sharp with impatience.

You let out a sigh, just as annoyed now by his intrusion. "Good. That means I'll have won then," you quipped, squaring your shoulders with a smirk and placing your hands on your hips in challenge.

"Sure, princess. Winning in boring me to death," he shot back, arms folding across his chest as he took a slight step closer, as though proximity might underline his sarcasm.

You scoffed and tilted your head. "Sorry, Blondie. I didn't know it was so hard for you to live without me."

"Please," he rolled his eyes, his voice dropping to a dry mutter, "I'm just merely eager to see you pass out and inevitably lose. Which I can't do if you keep talking to surfer boy over there."

Brandon, who had been watching the interaction with an amused look, laughed at the nickname but tactfully stepped back, sensing this moment no longer involved him.

You raised a brow, not missing the subtle flicker of something beneath Ukai's sharp remarks. "Well, if you're that bored you could always go talk to that blond again. You sure seemed to hit it off earlier and took your sweet time to come back."

He blinked, clearly thrown off by the bitter edge in your voice. "Need I remind you that I was just talking to her because you made me take her number?"

"Sure," you replied dryly, arms crossing. "And you didn't make her laugh like ten times after you'd already taken her number."

Ukai's brows drew together, his irritation softening into genuine confusion. "Y/n... are you... are you jealous?" he asked, disbelief heavy in his voice as his earlier bravado faltered.

Your breath caught in your throat. Eyes widened, panic flaring. "J-Jealous? I-Is your ego that big, Keishin? Please," you scoffed, shaking your head quickly. "I'm just saying that you're not the only one who took their sweet time to come back to the table."

For a second, his gaze dropped, his features unreadable as something quieter passed behind his eyes. When he looked back up at you, his signature cocky grin had returned, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Sure, sure. You know it's okay to have feelings for me. I get it. I'm irresistible."

You rolled your eyes and turned away with a groan. "Ugh, you're so annoying," you muttered, already putting distance between you as you stalked back to the table.

Behind you, his smirk faded like smoke in the air, his lips pressing together in a brief moment of regret. He stood there for a second longer, watching you with an unreadable expression before he sighed, shook his head, and slipped back into his usual attitude.

By the time he arrived back at the table, you were already seated beside Saeko, and Takeda had returned from the bathroom.

"Finally," Ukai clapped his hands together with performative cheer. "We can get back on track and get this over with." He leaned forward, closer to you, his voice low and challenging. "I'm gonna make you dance, y/n."

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Drink your five shots and then we'll talk," you said, pushing his face away with your palm like you were swatting away a buzzing fly.

He huffed, walking around to his seat and grabbing the freshly opened bottle of sake Nekomata had ordered. Pouring his first shot, he downed it without hesitation.

"So, did I miss anything interesting?" Takeda asked as he settled in.

"Nothing, except y/n basically turning the restaurant into a nightclub," Saeko laughed, clearly still amused by your earlier dare.

"Oh, is that why they're still dancing over there? Did you do this?" he asked, chuckling as he glanced over his shoulder.

You nodded with a sly and sacarstic grin. "Who would have thought convincing drunk college boys to do something stupid would be so easy?" 

"I mean," Saeko added, resting her chin on her hand with a grin, "I'd be convinced easily too if I were a college guy and a stunning girl came up to me like that."

"That is true," Takeda chimed in automatically, the words out before he could stop them. Ukai's eyes flicked to him, his brow twitching as he tightened his grip around the sake glass.

You turned to Takeda with a quirked brow, your expression amused while Saeko smirked, a glint of mischief shining in her gaze. Your eyes met and his face instantly flushed red, his composure cracking. "I-I... I mean—"

The sharp clack of the empty glass hitting the table cut him off.

"Alright! Five shots down," Ukai declared, his voice a little too loud as he grinned at you. "Your turn, y/n."

You paused, eyeing him coolly, your mind already spinning with ideas, the heat of competition and something else simmering quietly between the two of you.

"Wait, I wanna play too! Can I give ideas?" Saeko's voice rang out suddenly, laced with the kind of excitement that made everyone at the table turn their heads in sync. Her grin was mischievous, lips curled at the edges like she was already far too pleased with whatever chaotic thought was brewing in her mind. There was a beat of curiosity, heavy and expectant, that seemed to fall over the group.

Ukai's eyes narrowed subtly as he regarded her, his gaze suspicious, calculating. He leaned back with that familiar cocky tilt to his posture, though a flicker of caution danced behind his eyes. "Sure, why not?" he replied, voice casual but watchful. "You got a dare for me?" His smirk was cocky, that ever-present smirk that suggested he thought he could handle anything.

But you didn't say anything. You watched, curious where this was going, curious and perhaps a little concerned. There was something in Saeko's eyes that spelled trouble.

"Actually, it's a dare for y/n," she said smoothly, her smirk growing wider, more devious.

Your brows furrowed in surprise. "But I just got my turn?" you replied, tilting your head.

"It doesn't really matter, does it?" Saeko said nonchalantly. "If you succeed, Ukai will be the one drinking anyway."

You leaned back in your seat slightly, nodding. "That is true," you murmured thoughtfully, your tone half amused.

But Ukai's narrowed eyes stayed glued to Saeko. He had a bad feeling. He didn't know why, but something about the way her voice sang that dare out made him sit a little straighter. It wasn't good.

"What's the dare?" you asked, voice calm, intrigued.

Saeko's smirk spread like wildfire across her face. "I dare you to kiss Takeda or drink ten shots."

The reaction was immediate, like a bomb detonating.

"What?!" you, Ukai, and Takeda all shouted simultaneously, voices rising in layered panic and disbelief.

"Absolutely not!" Ukai barked, his voice louder than anyone's.

"Absolutely not?" you repeated, turning your head toward him slowly, one brow raised high. The tone of your voice was more dangerous now, edged with disbelief and offense.

Shit. He realized too late what he'd just revealed. "I–uh..." he stumbled, scrambling for a save. "I mean, this is supposed to be between you and me, not... our friends." He gestured toward Takeda like it would soften the blow, but the effect was the opposite. "And come on, you're not going to make this poor guy kiss her?" he added nervously, trying to clear himself out of trouble.

Except it did the opposite.

Your mouth dropped open, stunned. "I'm sorry, what?" you asked, utterly offended now, your voice tightening.

Shit, shit, shit. Ukai cursed himself silently, wishing for the earth to swallow him whole. What the hell was he even saying anymore? Was he possessed?

"Well," Ukai tried again, tone mocking now, "you don't wanna traumatize the guy, y/n. I was traumatized enough."

"Excuse me?!" you scoffed, sitting up straighter as the heat of irritation climbed up your chest. "Ittetsu would be pretty damn lucky to kiss me!" you said, leaning over the table, voice firm, commanding. Your hand slammed lightly against the surface, accentuating every word.

Ukai thought to himself bitterly, the luckiest even. He wanted to say it. Hell, he wanted to scream it. But all that came out of his mouth was—

"Sure, if you compare it to dying."

Oh God. What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he act normal around you? His mouth seemed permanently disconnected from his brain tonight.

Your expression darkened in a way that made the whole table seem to sink into silence. "You little shi—" you started, voice low and livid, as your hand reached for the collar of Ukai's shirt, fisting the fabric like you were about to yank him into another dimension.

"Well, I'd prefer to kiss you than die!" Takeda suddenly interrupted, voice nervous and too loud in the tension-filled space. "I–If that's helping..." he added, his cheeks already crimson from the pressure.

Ukai blinked at him, stunned. Oh, poor Takeda. Sweet, innocent, completely oblivious Takeda. Still, Ukai couldn't help the small, evil flicker of satisfaction that crept into him. That definitely made things easier for him.

"Yeah, not helping, Ittetsu," you shot back, not even turning toward him.

"What? He's saying he'd rather kiss you than die. That's a compliment," Ukai said, shrugging.

The look you gave him could have melted steel. Your glare was a mix of betrayal, disbelief, and just enough rage to make him momentarily question every life choice that led to this exact moment.

Judging from your face, Ukai realized he was either going to die in the next ten seconds or he had just burned every chance he ever had with you to the ground. Probably both.

He internally swore. He'd gone too far trying to keep the suspicions away. He needed to fix this. Fast.

"Look," he said, holding out his hands defensively, "all I'm saying is that you guys aren't close enough to kiss. You barely know each other to involve yourselves in dares like this."

"Mm, that is true," Saeko chimed in, her voice sweetly devilish. "You two certainly know each other better. Why don't you kiss Takeda then?"

That single sentence stopped time.

"What?!" Ukai and Takeda yelped in unison, eyes wide like deer caught in headlights.

You, meanwhile, leaned back slightly with an amused eyebrow raise, watching this chaos unfold like it was your favorite movie.

Ukai turned toward Saeko, full panic setting in now. "Okay, who let her give ideas?" he asked. "Let's all just calm down and go back to just y/n and I giving each other dares."

You didn't answer right away. Your gaze stayed on him, unreadable and quiet. But then, slowly, your lips curved into a sly, knowing smile. "That's actually not a bad idea, Saeko," you said, releasing your grip on Ukai's collar and sinking back into your seat with practiced ease.

Ukai stared at you in disbelief. No, no, no—

"And since it is still my turn," you added, crossing your arms, voice smooth and wicked, "Kiss Ittetsu or drink ten shots."

There it was. The kill shot.

Ukai's face twisted. "You can't do that," he snapped.

"Why not?" you said, tilting your head with that same smirk. "It's a dare like any other. But if you're that scared, you can always drink the ten shots now."

Ukai clenched his jaw so tightly it almost hurt. You'd trapped him, and you both knew it. He looked at the bottle of sake, at Takeda, at you. Ten shots was a lot. Too much. He'd already had more than enough. But kissing Takeda? Well, he wasn't exactly his type.

And yet, there it was. No way out.

Ukai's jaw tensed ever so slightly as he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms in a show of disinterest that fooled absolutely no one. You caught the subtle flicker of discomfort in his expression, and it only made your smirk widen. You leaned forward slightly, your voice silky, teasing, a razor edge behind the softness. "What's wrong? I thought the two of you were close?"

His eyes flicked to yours, irritation swirling in their amber depths. "We're not that close," he muttered, his tone flat and laced with defensiveness. The crossed arms stayed, rigid like a shield. Next to him, poor Takeda let out an awkward chuckle and waved his hands in frantic denial, his glasses slipping slightly down the bridge of his nose. "Y-Yeah, not that close!" he echoed quickly, his voice higher than usual with nervous energy, eyes darting around the table like a man trying to find the nearest escape route.

Across from Ukai, Saeko's smirk grew like a cat watching mice in a trap. There was a glint in her eyes—mischievous, knowing—that Ukai immediately recognized. A slow, sick twist rolled in his gut. She was up to something. He could feel it in the air, thick and electric like the moment before a thunderstorm breaks. His instincts screamed at him to interrupt, to shut her up before she had the chance, but he was too slow.

"Fine," she said, dragging the word out with theatrical flair. "If you can't do it, I'm sure y/n will take on the dare."

Everything in Ukai's world stopped. His head snapped in her direction, eyes wide, panic flooding him in one violent wave. You tilted your head at the suggestion, blinking in mock contemplation, a slow smirk threatening to bloom on your lips. His thoughts spun with the image of you leaning in towards Takeda, your lips dangerously close—no, no, no.

"Sorry, man," he blurted out, and before he could question himself, before logic or shame could catch up with him, Ukai reached across the space, grabbed Takeda's shirt with a firm hand, and planted a kiss right on the man's lips.

The room stilled. The shock was palpable, hanging in the air like static. Saeko's jaw dropped in delighted horror. Your eyes went wide, then sparkled with stunned amusement as a laugh broke from your throat—sharp, surprised, almost disbelieving. Takeda, poor soul, looked like someone had unplugged him.

Ukai pulled away just as quickly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and shooting you a pointed look, his tone sharp with challenge. "There. I did it. Now, drink up."

He stomped back to his seat without waiting for a reaction, trying to ignore the heat that crept up his neck. "I did not think you had it in you, Keishin," You amusedly said as you shook your head and you reached for the bottle, the laughter still dancing in your throat. Even knowing the ten shots could destroy you, the moment had been more than worth it.

 "But a deal's a deal," you declared with a defiant grin as you began to pour.

Saeko leaned back, satisfied and still laughing as she watched the table. Takeda still looked stunned, one hand hovering over his lips like he wasn't sure if it had all been a hallucination. Ukai sat rigid, clearly somewhere deep in thought, avoiding your gaze like it might burn him alive.

Saeko's curiosity, however, only deepened.

She'd been observing you and Ukai for a while now and she still could not figure out for the life of her, the relationship dynamic between you two. There was something strange in the air between the two of you. Not new. Not fresh. Something long-fermenting and layered, like a memory you can't quite place but lingers anyway. You'd known each other for a while, she could see it and yet, everything seemed so complicated between you two. But why? She tilted her head, letting the silence settle for a beat before she broke it.

"Say, have you two always been like this?" she asked, her voice deceptively innocent.

You and Ukai turned toward her simultaneously, mirrored expressions of confusion painted across your faces. Even Nekomata, who had been silently nursing a glass of sake, lifted a brow at the question, amusement flickering in his eyes.

Ukai frowned. "What do you mean?"

Saeko gestured vaguely between the two of you, her hand swirling in the air like she was trying to pull the right words out of it. "Like this," she said, voice a little louder, frustration lightly laced in the edges. "You fight all the time, insult each other constantly, yet somehow, every time one of you speaks, the other can't look away. You say you hate each other, but it's like watching two people who are one argument away from kissing. It's... weirdly romantic and also kind of maddening. So I'm curious—has it always been like that, or is this a new development?"

The silence that followed was instant and explosive. Your eyes widened to the size of full moons while Ukai stiffened like a statue caught mid-motion. Nekomata let out a low chuckle and murmured under his breath, "Oh boy..." as though bracing for the explosion.

"What?!" The shouts rang out.

"We don't like each other!" you both blurted out at the same time, your voices clashing awkwardly in the thick tension, the heat blooming in your cheeks betraying your words.

"Yeah! Not at all!" Ukai snapped again, folding his arms and glancing away sharply, chewing the inside of his cheek like it could keep the words he wanted to say locked in.

A thick silence followed your declaration, broken only by the shuffling of cutlery and the awkward shifting of Takeda in his seat. You could feel the weight of every gaze at the table, all eyes bouncing between the two of you like spectators watching a match just beginning to spiral.

"Look, Saeko, don't be ridiculous," Ukai muttered, arms crossed tightly against his chest, his gaze averted. "Y/n and I are just... forced to tolerate each other."

You stiffened, your expression hardening as your voice dropped low and sharp. "Yeah, 'forced' is right. It's not like I choose to be here with him. I just can't fucking escape it."

Ukai's eyes widened, his jaw tightening at the words and his heart beating faster. His mock smile returned, but it was brittle. It barely reached his eyes. "Oh, I'm sorry? Like it's such a dream for me to have you around? Trust me, I'd rather kiss a cactus every morning than deal with you every day."

"Good! Because I'd rather down ten more shots than listen to your voice another second," you fired back, louder now, fingers curling tightly around your glass.

He leaned forward, eyes narrow and voice sharp enough to cut steel. "Maybe you should drink them. Then maybe we'd finally get a minute of peace."

You barked a hollow laugh, eyes dark and glittering with something deeper than anger. "God, your wit aged like sour milk, Keishin. Still the emotional equivalent of a stubbed toe."

Ukai's jaw clenched, his heart the same. "At least I didn't turn into a bitter, self-righteous princess who thinks she's better than everyone else." He blurted out without thinking but he regretted them instantly.

You opened your mouth, unable to hide how the words had hurt. But you leaned in closer, eyes blazing. "Better than you? The bar is in the earth's core, Keishin. I could be unconscious and still be winning."

The table had grown deathly still, everyone else slowly shrinking into their seats. Takeda glanced nervously at Saeko, who was watching the fight unfold like someone rubbernecking a car crash. Oops. What had she started?

Ukai's voice was quieter now, but cold and shaking with the effort to stay calm. "You always do this. Play the martyr. Twist everything like you're the only one who's been hurt."

You slammed your hand on the table. "You think I'm playing the victim? At least I never tried to sabotage my best friend's career because I couldn't stand to see someone else shine!"

Ukai flinched like the words had physically hit him, his breath caught in his throat. His eyes filled with something bitter, wounded. Your words hurt, even more now than before. What was going on? How had it come to this? 

He stood slowly, the chair scraping behind him. "Oh yeah? At least I didn’t sell out my best firend's team, humiliate them in front of hundreds of people, and throw away everything we worked for—over some guy from the other side!"

Your chest heaved, voice trembling with rage. "How many times do I have to say that I never did that?!"

His eyes sparked with fury and something heartbreakingly raw. "Well, it's not like you believe me either! You've hated me for something I never did and still blame me even when it had no repercussions on your career in the end." He clenched his fists. "You never questioned anything. Like it was easier to just throw me away and leave!"

Your breath hitched, the sting in your chest sharp and unrelenting. Your eyes blazed, and for a moment, it didn't even feel like you were in a restaurant anymore. You were back in the past, standing on a court full of broken trust.

You stepped forward, fists clenched so tightly your knuckles blanched. "That's rich coming from you! You think I didn't see it? The way you looked at me after Grandpa shared the news that night? We fought the night before the match—you couldn't stand the thought of me going farther than you!"

Ukai shook his head, voice cracking. "That's not true! I came to the locker room to apologize—"

"Bullshit! You came to sabotage! You never wanted me to succeed, you just couldn't admit it!"

Nekomata rose abruptly, grabbing Ukai's arm and pulling him back. "That's enough," he said, firm, but not unkind.

Saeko was already up, placing herself between you and Ukai. She reached for your wrist, gently but with purpose. Her touch steadied your shaking frame.

Ukai's chest was rising and falling fast. His face twisted between fury and grief, like he wanted to scream and break down all at once. You looked no better. Your shoulders trembled, and your eyes burned with unshed tears, fury masking heartbreak.

Nekomata tried again, quieter. "How about we all calm down and finish our dinner?"

You didn't even glance at him. Your eyes were locked on your grandfather's, cold and cutting.

"There's nothing to finish here," you said, voice hoarse, final. Then you turned to Ukai. For a moment, your gaze softened—only for a heartbeat—but the bitterness returned in full force. "I'm already done."

The words didn't just land—they sank. Deep. Ukai's eyes flickered. For a moment, he looked like he couldn't breathe. He stared at you like you'd ripped something from him. Something final.

And then you turned and walked away.

Your footsteps rang loud through the quiet room. Chairs creaked. No one moved. Nekomata made a move to follow, but Saeko held him back gently.

"I'll handle it," she murmured, and went after you, slipping through the door and into the night, leaving Ukai behind, broken beneath the weight of words he never wanted to say—and the look in your eyes that told him this time, you might really be gone for good.

Ukai stood frozen for a moment, as though time had stopped just for him, leaving the rest of the world spinning somewhere far away. His gaze fixed on the empty space where you'd been just moments ago. Then, slowly, almost robotically, he lifted a hand to his face. His fingers brushed lightly against his tired eyes, as if trying to wipe away the sting of everything that had just unfolded in front of the entire table. With a long, ragged sigh, he dragged his hand down the length of his face, his palm catching on the stubble of his jaw, and let it fall heavily back into his lap.

Then came the collapse—he sank back down into his chair, his entire frame slouching with exhaustion and defeat. His elbows met the hard wood of the table and his face disappeared into his hands. Shame radiated from him in thick, suffocating waves. His shoulders trembled with a quiet, contained tension. There were no tears, not yet, but the ache behind his eyes was unmistakable.

What had he done? The question looped in his head like a chant, circling endlessly as he mentally cursed himself again and again. He'd done it. He'd officially ruined everything. All those years, all that distance, the chance—however small—to maybe find their way back to something... he'd thrown it all away in a matter of minutes. You hated him more than ever now, and the worst part was—this time, you were right to. After everything he'd pulled tonight—his jealousy, his pettiness, the yelling—how could he even blame you?

What the fuck was wrong with him?

Why couldn't he just tell you that he loved you? Why couldn't he have handled this like a normal adult instead of some lovesick, bitter child who couldn't stand the sight of you being happy with someone else? Was it because Takeda had your attention? Because you were laughing with someone else while he sat there, stewing in the ugly mess of feelings he never learned to deal with? He let out another sigh, deeper, rougher, like he was trying to exhale his regret out of existence.

"That was... something," Takeda's quiet voice broke the silence, tentative and awkward, as if he wasn't sure he should speak at all.

Ukai didn't lift his head. His voice came muffled, buried in his palms. "Please, don't."

Takeda hesitated. "Sorry. I didn't mean to... well, are you okay?"

Ukai finally turned his head slightly, just enough to glance at Takeda. The look he gave him was exhausted, hollow, like someone who'd just watched their world slip through their fingers.

Takeda immediately backpedaled. "Right. Stupid question," he muttered, staring down at his hands now, wringing them together.

Ukai let his face fall back into his hands with a groan, but Nekomata had had enough.

"What the hell was that?" his voice cut through the quiet like a blade, arms crossed tightly across his chest.

"I don't know," Ukai muttered again, his voice hoarse.

Nekomata poured himself another drink, the motion controlled, but the tension in his jaw betrayed his frustration. "Just when I thought it was finally getting better, and then you pull this bullshit. What happened, Keishin?!"

Ukai slowly removed his hands and laid his cheek down flat against the table, his eyes unfocused. "I don't know," he repeated, quieter this time, more fragile.

"Is that all you know how to say?" Nekomata's voice grew sharper now. "Why are you both still stuck on this? It's been eight years, goddammit!"

Ukai raised his head, a flicker of bitterness behind his eyes. "You think I want this? You think I don't want to move past it? But it's not that simple."

Nekomata didn't back down. "Then explain it to me. Help me understand."

Ukai blinked. "Don't you already know what happened? At least Y/n's version? Or didn't my mother tell you anything?"

Nekomata shook his head. "If I knew, maybe I could understand better." Ukai bit the inside of his cheek, jaw twitching. Nekomata leaned forward. "You two clearly disagree about what happened. If I hear your side, maybe I can finally get Y/N to tell me hers. Maybe we can make some sense of this mess."

Ukai didn't answer right away. He just stared down at the table, lost in the tangle of memory and regret.

Outside the restaurant, your footsteps echoed down the sidewalk, quick and angry. Your arms crossed tightly over your chest, your breaths sharp and uneven as you walked like the ground might give way beneath you. Behind you, Saeko jogged to catch up.

"Wow, not so fast, girl! Where are you going like that?" she called out, finally matching your pace.

"I'm going back to the school. I need to sleep on my anger," you snapped, not breaking stride.

Saeko, unfazed, moved in front of you, forcing you to stop. "Okay, okay, slow down, tiger. Why don't we just sit down a moment and talk, huh?" She gestured toward a bench a few meters away, her voice gentler now. "You can calm down a bit and tell me what happened back there—"

"There's nothing to tell!" you cut her off, voice trembling as it rose. "Keishin is still the same asshole he always was..."

You looked down, your shoulders falling. "I was wrong to ever think otherwise," you muttered, and your voice cracked on the words. Tears prickled at your eyes, and you clenched your jaw as your heart throbbed painfully in your chest.

Saeko's expression softened. She stepped closer and put a hand behind your back, guiding you toward the bench. "I'm so sorry. This is all my fault..."

"No, no... it's not. It's just how it is between the two of us," you replied as you sat down heavily. "Keishin and I were never meant to see each other again. I never should have come back. We only end up hurting one another."

"But why?" Saeko asked, genuine confusion and concern lacing her voice.

You sighed, your shoulders sagging. "It's complicated. And it's too long. It happened a long time ago." You turned to look at her. "Unfortunately, our relationship took too much damage to fix."

Saeko leaned in slightly, offering a small, sincere smile. "Try me. I want to understand what happened." She put a hand on your shoulder. "Maybe I could help you?"

You stared at her for a moment, debating. It had been a while since you'd allowed yourself to tell the story or even think everything about what happened. It was always painful to do so. You sighed heavily before you slowly swallowed hard and opened your mouth to speak.

At the same time, miles away but emotionally tethered, Ukai finally lifted his eyes from the table, meeting Nekomata's patient, demanding gaze.

"Here's what happened..." You both said in unison.

Two voices, far apart but echoing the same past, beginning the same story from opposite ends of the same wound.

So far from each other.

And yet, somehow, still impossibly close.

***

 

Chapter 32: Things We Don't Say

Notes:

Hey guys! I'm so sorry for keeping you waiting for so long😭 I've just been stuck in a huge writing slump with this story and I wasn't satisfied with anything I was writing, like I rewrote this chapter five times lmaoo. Plus I got super busy in between so it made continuing complicated, but I'm back with the beginning of their past (I'll try not to drag it but you know me😔🤚🏻 can't make anything short for the life of me) Anyway, my bad for the wait and hope you'll like this chapter!

Chapter Text

Tokyo - eight years ago (third year of high school):

The sharp squeak of sneakers on polished gym floors echoed through the gymnasium, harmonizing with the rhythmic bounce of the volleyball. You ran across the court, your lungs tight, sweat clinging to your skin and dripping from your forehead. Each breath came sharp, but your focus never wavered. Your eyes locked on Chiyo, your team's quick and clever setter, already in position as she lifted her hands, ready.

"I'm open!" you shouted, your voice cutting through the sounds of sneakers, breath, and the slap of the ball.

You crouched low, legs coiling like springs, and then jumped high into the air. For a heartbeat, everything stilled. Time hung suspended. You were above the net, the gym beneath you like a blurred stage. From up there, you had a perfect view: the opposing side of your own team, split for the sake of training. You saw them readying themselves, anticipation written across their tense stances. Three blockers leapt to meet you mid-air—a wall of hands rising like a tide.

But your body knew what to do before your mind caught up. You twisted slightly, swinging your arm with force and precision honed by months of relentless practice. The ball connected with your palm in a sharp, explosive thud and shot down with brutal speed.

Yuka, poised as the center blocker, attempted to intercept it, but the ball crashed against her forearms with such intensity it threw her off-balance. The force rattled her grip in mid-air and sent her tumbling back, landing hard on her butt as the ball smacked the ground untouched.

A piercing whistle rang out, followed by an excited cheer from your side.

"Point!" your coach called out, but you barely registered it. The moment your feet hit the ground, your concern kicked in. You were already running toward Yuka.

"Yuka! Shit, you okay?" you asked, dropping beside her, eyes scanning for injuries.

She groaned, rubbing her side with a wince. "I've been better," she muttered, her face pinched with both pain and embarrassment.

"I'm really sorry," you said earnestly, offering her your hand. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

But she slapped your hand away, her expression tight. "Yeah, well, you don't have to go so hard when we're only playing against each other," she snapped as she stood up on her own.

You opened your mouth to respond, guilt creeping into your chest, but your coach cut in before you could.

"No, she's right to go hard," she called out, her voice firm and commanding. Everyone turned to look at her. "Training matches like this are the exact time to test your limits. No consequences. No fear. If you're not pushing your body to the brink here, how do you expect to survive against real opponents?" Her eyes locked onto Yuka. "You think your rivals will ease up on you just because you ask nicely? They'll go for your weakest moment without hesitation. You need to be ready."

Yuka turned her head away, her pride bruised more than her hip.

The coach exhaled and softened slightly. "That said, I am proud of all of you. You've come a long way since the beginning of the season. And I'm confident that this summer camp is going to elevate every one of you to new heights. Keep up this level, and we'll be more than ready for Spring Tournament."

"Thank you, Coach!" you and the others replied in chorus.

She smiled, already walking toward the doors. "Anyway, I have to excuse myself for a while to go talk to the principal so thirty-minute break, girls! Hydrate, reset, and be back with fire."

As she disappeared from view, your teammates immediately turned to you.

"Y/N! Teach me that spike, please!" Ayako begged, eyes sparkling.

"Yes! And I want to practice blocking it. If I can block your spike, I can block anyone's," Hina chimed in.

"Our captain has to go full beast mode on us again! Coach's orders!" Rin added with a grin.

They swarmed you, excitement buzzing in their chatter. You backed away slightly, laughing, hands up in mock surrender. "I-uh... okay, okay."

Chiyo appeared at your side, smirking, arms crossed. "Alright, let her breathe, first-years. Don't go smothering our precious captain. You wouldn't want anything to happen to the 'Princess and Pride of Nekoma'," she added, eyes glinting with amusement while the first years's sparkled with admiration.

You groaned. "Shut up, Chiyo."

She only laughed. "What? I'm quoting. Didn't Hinode say that himself?" Chiyo straightened her spine and lowered her voice into a mock-dramatic tone. " 'Y/N Nekomata, Princess and Pride of Nekoma. My love, my muse, please notice me!' "

You lunged for her, trying to slap a hand over her mouth as she cackled. "You're greatly exaggerating, like everything."

"That's what he said!"

"He never said that last part."

"It's called creative liberty" she grinned while you looked at her unimpresed. "But he did call you princess. Everyone does."

"It doesn't mean anything. It's just a stupid nickname," you grumbled. "Like 'Little Giant' or 'The Golden Ace' for Hinode." You then lowered your voice, rolling your eyes in the process. "More like Golden Asshole in his case if you ask me."

She laughed, her voice bright and teasing. "That is true, but you can't deny he's pretty damn hot." With a smirk tugging at her lips, Chiyo slipped an arm around your shoulder, drawing you in closer. Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "Don't you ever wish he would just hold you in his big, strong arms and never let go?"

You snorted, rolling your eyes as you gently pushed her away. "I wish he'd leave me alone, yeah."

"Ugh! You're not seeing the vision, Y/N," she huffed dramatically.

"On the contrary," you quipped back, brushing a few strands of hair away from your face, "I think I see it perfectly. I'm just seeing past your delusional vision."

Chiyo groaned in mock pain, pressing a hand over her chest. "Right, right... I forgot you're still blinded by your betrayal-worthy crush on that Karasun—"

Your eyes widened in sheer panic, and before she could finish the sentence, you sprang forward, clapping a hand over her mouth.

"Shhh! Are you crazy?! What if someone hears you?!" you whisper-shouted, glancing around the gym nervously.

Chiyo just chuckled against your hand and pulled it down with a grin. "Relax. Honestly, anyone who isn't completely blind can already tell."

"You little—!" you gasped, smacking her shoulder in mock offense while she cackled and dodged your half-hearted hits.

What you didn't see was the girl standing off to the side.

Yuka.

Arms crossed, jaw tight, her gaze like a needle through fabric, trained solely on you. Watching. Always watching. A slow roll of her eyes was followed by a deep breath through her nose before she stepped forward, her sneakers squeaking softly against the polished gym floor.

"Hey," she called, her voice clipped and cool. "Can we train already, or are you two too busy chitchatting?"

You and Chiyo both turned toward her, your laughter fading as her tone cut the mood.

You cleared your throat and approached her with a small smile, careful to keep your tone even. "You're right, Yuka. Let's get back to training. We're gonna need it for tomorrow's match against Karasuno."

She didn't respond, but her eyes narrowed ever so slightly as you passed her.

You turned to the rest of the team, clapping your hands. "Alright, girls! Since we're still on break, how about I teach you my spike now?"

Three of the first years squealed in excitement and dashed toward you, eyes gleaming with admiration.

"So eager," came a voice from behind, laced with mischief. "Didn't know Nekoma was looking forward to failure."

The sound sent a ripple of recognition through you. A smirk curled on your lips as you turned around slowly. "Well, well, if it isn't Karasuno's honorary court jester," you replied, one hand on your hip as you faced him.

Ukai stood at the gym entrance, clad in Karasuno's uniform, a crooked grin on his face. He chuckled as he approached, the light from the windows catching the edges of his jaw.

The three girls immediately stepped in front of you protectively.

"What are you doing here, Karasuno?" Rin asked, eyes narrowed.

"Don't say mean things to our captain!" Hina pouted.

"Yeah! She's more awesome than you!"  Ayako crossed her arms.

You stifled a laugh. "Relax, girls. He's a friend."

They looked baffled. "But he's from Karasuno?" Ayako said, almost disgusted.

With a smirk, you wrapped an arm around Ukai's neck and pulled him down roughly, rubbing your knuckles against his scalp. "Well, not every illness can be cured. Besides, this one? Not so bad. Definitely too confident in his abilites but mostly harmless."

"Hey—ow! Okay, okay, stop! Let go!" Ukai yelped, swatting at your hands as the girls erupted in laughter. You let him go, and he stood up straight, rubbing his head with a grimace. "Are you crazy going that hard? You're gonna leave a mark!"

You crossed your arms, grinning. "Maybe grow some hair. Might protect you next time."

"Nah. Too much maintenance. Besides, I look good like this. Don't I?" He raised his brows at you suggestively.

You wrinkled your nose and pushed his face away. "Sure. To a chicken. You look like an egg it wants to hatch."

The girls burst out laughing.

"Jealous," he muttered with a grin. "You wish you could rock the bald look."

"Oh, it's all yours, EggHead," you shot back with a wink.

He gasped. "Stop calling me that, Princess."

You narrowed your eyes. "Low blow."

He shrugged, smirking. "You started it."

Just before you could fire back, Chiyo chimed in, her tone amused and laced with meaning. "Alright, enough flirting, you two. Some of us actually want to train over here, Karasuno boy."

The comment struck like a spark, and both you and Ukai took an awkward half-step away from each other, suddenly acutely aware of how close you'd gotten. Your cheeks flushed with color. 

He laughed, but there was a slight crack in his voice, the kind that comes from nerves trying to disguise themselves as confidence. "F-Flirting? With her? Pff, I would never. I have standards, Chiyo."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. "I was just about to say the same thing. I prefer my men to have hair."

Ukai raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Again with the hair? You sound like a broken record, Y/n."

You returned the smirk, eyes glittering. "Well, I could always talk about that time in sixth grade when you—"

"Woah, woah-" His eyes widened in pure horror as he suddenly lunged forward, slapping a hand over your mouth. "Not cool... but well played," he muttered, grinning as he tried to hold back a laugh. He stayed like that for a second too long, hand gently cupping your mouth, his gaze locked onto yours. Something flickered there, brief but tangible—until Chiyo loudly cleared her throat.

Both of you jolted apart like kids caught sneaking snacks before dinner.

"As I was saying," Chiyo began, her tone deliberately dry as she crossed her arms, "thanks for your visit, but we have work to do, Karasuno. So unless this is urgent, I'll kindly ask you to leave."

Ukai blinked, recovering his composure. "Right, forgot. I actually did come for something." He turned to you, scratching the back of his neck with a sheepish smile. "We're playing a practice match against Nekoma this afternoon. Figured you might wanna come watch, analyze, and, of course, admire my amazing moves as usual."

You raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in your eye. "Sure, I'd love to come. However, as for admiring, well... I think I might have some trouble."

He clutched his chest in mock-offense. "Are you doubting my skills?"

You stepped closer, lowering your voice like you were letting him in on a secret. "No, I just haven't been that impressed lately."

"Oh, is that a challenge I hear?" he asked, leaning in.

"Depends," you whispered, smirking. "Do you want to lose?"

He leaned back and laughed, scooping up a stray volleyball from the side of the court. "Two on two. Right now."

You placed your hands on your hips, tilting your head. "Seriously, it's the third time this week Keishin. Do you enjoy getting your ass beat that much? Not that I'm complaining about getting to kick your butt each time but when are you going to accept that I'm just better than you?"

"Never," he replied without missing a beat.

You turned to Chiyo. "Think we have time before coach comes back?"

Chiyo smirked, tossing her ponytail over her shoulder. "We do. Let's beat his ass."

"Hey! What about training?" Yuka asked, annoyed, from the other side of the gym.

"It won't take long I promise, Yuka!" You shouted before you turned back to Ukai while she only rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath. "This will be over in the blink of an eye." You smiked.

Ukai grinned. "Hold up, let me grab Makoto. This is gonna be good." He dashed out of the gym, energized.

You watched him go, your eyes trailing after him with a softness you didn't even realize was on your face. Not until Chiyo exhaled loudly next to you.

"Girl, you are so bad at hiding it."

You blinked, cheeks reddening. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Please," she deadpanned. "If you're gonna lie, at least try to be convincing."

You crossed your arms, looking away. "Whatever. I was just... watching him leave. Nothing weird about that."

She stepped closer, leaning in with a sly smile. "Careful, you got a little drool right there," She pointed to the corner of your mouth.

You gasped and slapped her arm. "Shut up!"

She laughed, but her expression quickly softened into something gentler. "But seriously, Y/n. Why don't you just tell him? You've had a crush on that guy for forever!"

You rolled your eyes. "It's only been a year. Stop exaggerating."

"I've listened to every single one of your rants about him. Every. Single. One. It sure as hell felt like forever to me."

You sighed, your voice quieting. "Look, I wish I could tell him but he doesn't see me that way, Chiyo. We've been best friends since, well, ever since I can remember. If I told him and it ruined things... I don't think I could live with that."

Chiyo looked at you, her expression soft with exasperation and affection. "Y/N... you are so blind. You know he likes you back, right?"

You blinked, shaking your head. "You can't be sure about that. This is just how we are with each other, how we've always been since we were kids. We're just closer than regular best friends. That doesn't mean anything."

She tilted her head, about to say more, but stopped herself, seeing the uncertainty in your face.

"I get it. It's scary—but it might just be worth it," Chiyo said softly, her voice threading through the quiet hum of the gym like a whisper meant only for you. "What if you keep waiting, and he ends up with someone else? What then?" Her words landed with weight, each syllable pressing down like rain on dry earth.

Your eyes widened slightly, heart thudding in your chest at the cruel possibility she had so casually thrown into the open. The idea stung, raw and uninvited. What would you do then? Watch from the sidelines? Pretend it didn't break you? You looked away, lips parting but no words coming out, only the heavy silence stretching between you.

After a long pause, you gave a slow shake of your head. "I can't tell him," you finally said, your voice barely more than a whisper. You turned away, eyes settling on a scuffed spot on the wooden floor. It felt easier to talk to the ground than to face what the words really meant. "If he gets a girlfriend... I'll just support him. Like a best friend should."

Chiyo exhaled, the sound somewhere between a sigh and a groan. She crossed her arms, her brows pulling together in concern. "Fine. Your choice. But you can't keep bottling this up forever, y/n. You're going to burst." She sighed. "Look, since you're dead set on not telling him directly, how about this?" she continued, eyes suddenly alight with an idea. "Write him a letter."

You blinked. "A letter? Are you serious?"

She nodded enthusiastically, stepping closer. "Dead serious! Write it all down. Say everything you want to say—how you feel, what you think, what you're afraid of. Pour it all out, girl! You don't have to give it to him, but it'll help." She put a hand on your shoulder. "If you're not going to act on it, then the sooner you're free of this crush, the better. Trust me."

You hesitated, glancing toward the gym doors. Just then, Ukai re-entered with Makoto beside him, both laughing about something you couldn't hear. Your heart gave a quiet jolt, cheeks coloring at the sight of him.

Chiyo followed your gaze and nudged you knowingly.

You tore your eyes away, inhaling slowly. "I'll think about it," you murmured, drawing in a deep breath and giving your head a little shake, as if to push away the entire conversation.

You stepped toward your side of the court, the bounce of your steps returning. Chiyo sighed and followed, trailing behind you with a knowing look. Ukai and Makoto were already taking position on the opposite side. You caught Ukai's eye and grinned.

"Ready to lose? Again?" you teased.

Ukai scoffed, shaking his head with a mock-serious frown. "That overconfidence of yours is going to be your downfall one day, y/n."

You smirked, settling into a ready stance. "Maybe, but it's worked pretty well so far."

"What's the wager this time?" he asked, already bracing himself.

"Loser buys dinner. Same as always."

"Works for me."

"I'll take my usual ramen, extra noodles, thanks."

"You haven't won yet," he reminded you with a crooked grin.

"Just preparing for the inevitable." you replied with a light laugh as you turned back to Chiyo, already explaining your strategies for the match.

Ukai rolled his eyes before his fell on your talking figure again, a light smile drawing in the corner of his lips.

Makoto, seeing this, sighed. "Why are we doing this again? We both know we're not going to win."

Ukai snapped out of his daze and turned to Makoto. "Well, not with that attitude, we're not."

Makoto shrugged, arms crossed. "Seriously, though," Makoto gave him a pointed look. "You always do this. Challenge her, lose, then sulk. Why even keep doing it?"

Ukai looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just... want to prove I'm better than her."

Makoto arched a brow. "Uh-huh. Sure. That's the only reason."

Ukai turned to him, defensive. "Okay, what's with the tone?"

Makoto lifted his hands innocently. "Nothing." 

Ukai took a step closer. "No, please enlighten me. Say what you're cleary itching to say."

"Well, it just seems like a lot of effort for a bragging right you're very obviously never going to claim."

At that moment, the gym doors opened again, and the girls of your team squealed with excitement. Neither boy looked; Ukai was too focused on the brewing conversation.

Makoto sighed. "Look, I just think there's more to it than you're admitting. Maybe you're not doing this just to prove you're better." He tilted his head to the side. "Maybe you're just trying to get her attention."

Ukai blinked. "Wha-What?! I don't - I don't know what you're talking about. I'm her best friend, I already have her attention."

"Sure, but not as much as you'd like," Makoto crossed his arms with a knowing look but Ukai stayed silent. "Come on, man. I know you. You don't really care about these challenges. You only care about her."

Ukai let out a breathy laugh, a little too high-pitched. "Sure, I care about her. We're best friends. I mess with her because it's fun. That's all."

"No, no, Keishin," Makoto stepped closer, an amused expression on his face as he placed a hand on his shoulder. "You like her. That's the only reason you're doing all of this and you know it." Ukai's eyes widened but Makoto didn't give him time to respond. "And it's okay, you know? I get it. She's been busy lately. Focused on training. You miss her. So you're finding ways to connect. But maybe if you just told her how you felt, you wouldn't need to keep doing this. And I wouldn't have to keep getting my ass kicked every week."

"I don't like her! We're just—we're best friends. That's all!" His voice was sharp, layered with nervous defensiveness, but the cracks in his facade were beginning to show. His hands fidgeted at his sides, and he glanced away quickly, as if avoiding even his own reflection.

Makoto simply let out a long, tired sigh, the kind that said he'd expected nothing less. He bent down to retrieve a stray volleyball, his fingers rolling over the scuffed leather absentmindedly before he started walking toward the net. "See, I don't even know why I told you," he said under his breath, though loud enough for Ukai to hear.

Ukai followed quickly, his brows furrowed in irritation. "Wait, what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Makoto replied flatly, continuing to walk, the ball now tucked under his arm.

"No, no," Ukai pressed, his steps picking up as he matched Makoto's pace. "Go on. Let's hear it. Since you seem to know me better than I know myself, why don't you go ahead."

Makoto stopped walking, recognizing the pattern here. He turned slowly, fixing Ukai with an unimpressed look. The gym's overhead lights reflected dimly off the polished floor between them. "Look, man. Whatever I say, I know you're just gonna argue with me. You always do. But... piece of advice?"

He lifted a hand and, with two fingers, gently turned Ukai's chin toward the opposite side of the net. There, standing a few meters away and mid-conversation with you, was Kaito Hinode—Nekoma's tall, infuriatingly charming captain and setter, his dark hair tousled to perfection and that annoyingly confident smirk gracing his face. Ukai's greatest rival. You were laughing, your eyes crinkling at the corners, your whole demeanor open and bright in a way that made Ukai's chest feel uncomfortably tight.

"You better realize what you're feeling before someone else steps in and snatches her up," Makoto said, voice low but firm. "Because from the looks of it, someone's already trying."

Ukai didn't answer. He didn't move. He just stared, blinking, jaw tightening as the sound of your laughter seemed to echo louder than anything else in the gym. When did Kaito even get here? Why were you laughing like that? 

"But you're lucky man because I'm practically sure she—" He looked to his side and found the space beside him empty. "—And he's gone," Makoto muttered, dragging a hand down his face. He let out a heavy sigh and trudged forward. "'Best friends, nothing more,' my ass."

Ukai was already halfway across the court by the time Makoto caught up, his pace fast and his expression stormy. He stopped directly in front of you and Kaito, arms crossed over his chest, shoulders squared like he was stepping into battle.

"Hey," he said, a little too sharply. "We're supposed to play so I can kick your ass."

You turned toward him, relief flickering across your face. The conversation with Kaito had been unpleasant to say the least and you'd been dying for an escape. Luckily, Keishin was always here to save the day. However, before you could weasel your way out of it, Kaito opened his mouth.

"Oh hey, Backup Setter. Didn't see you there," Kaito said, the corners of his lips pulling into an insufferably smug grin. He was taller than Ukai and clearly used it to his advantage, his tone dripping with false innocence. "Then again, you're easy to miss. I hardly ever notice you in the matches either."

Ukai snorted, his eyes narrowing as he met Kaito's gaze head-on. "Well, if it isn't Golden Asshole in the flesh. Thought you'd be too busy polishing your reflection to show up before this afternoon." 

The response made you chuckle while Kaito's jaw twitched, his smile faltering ever so slightly.

"What are you even doing here? This gym's reserved for the Nekoma girls. Let me guess—you're so desperate about tomorrow's match you came to ask them for our weaknesses?" Kaito jabbed, crossing his arms.

Ukai scoffed. "Please. We don't need to cheat to beat you. Your weaknesses are obvious from a mile away."

Kaito took a deliberate step forward, and the tension crackled between them like static before a storm. You quickly stepped between them, planting a hand on each of their chests and pushing them gently apart.

"Alright, that's enough. No one needs to measure dicks right now. This is not the place, and definitely not the time. No one cares." you said firmly, glancing between them both with a raised brow.

Kaito's eyes lingered on Ukai a moment longer, still hard, still burning with something territorial. Then, with a slow exhale, he turned his attention back to you. And just like that, the smile returned to his face, easy and charming as ever.

"You're right," he said smoothly. "Though I doubt there'd be much of a competition, if you ask me."

You rolled your eyes. "Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night." You mumbled.

"What?" He asked.

"Nothing," you smiled—tight-lipped but polite—just to keep the peace as you cleared your throat. "Now, what was it you came over for again so we can start to play already?"

His eyes lingered on Ukai a moment longer before he shifted his gaze to you with a smile, "We have a match coming up against Karasuno in a few hours, after they finish against Setagaya Tech High" Kaito said, leaning in slightly, voice dipping just enough to be flirtatious. "Thought you'd want to come watch me in action. Since you love to observe and analyze."

"Oh, that? I'm already coming to see Karasuno. Keishin asked me earlier." You pointed a thumb behind you toward Ukai. 

Kaito's gaze flickered to Ukai, who was now wearing the most triumphant smirk imaginable.

"Shouldn't you be helping your own school instead of helping our rival win against us?" He asked but you shrugged.

"I'm only giving out suggestions. Winning or losing is all up to you."

Kaito was about to respond when Makoto interrupted. "Wait—Setagaya Tech High? I thought we were on a break until our match against you?"

Kaito turned to him with a casual shrug. "Schedule changed. Heard your coach said it would be more efficient to squeeze in another match."

"Shit!" both Ukai and Makoto blurted in unison.

Makoto was already sprinting toward the exit. "We're late! Coach Ukai's gonna murder us!"

"Damn it, he's right!" Ukai exclaimed, throwing a final glare at Kaito before looking at you. "I gotta go, but will you come for this one too?"

You chuckled softly, nodding. "I'll be right behind you."

He smiled at your response. He then hesitated for half a heartbeat, eyes flickering between you and Kaito before he turned and ran after Makoto.

You watched Ukai run off with a soft chuckle, the echo of his hurried footsteps fading down the corridor. You hoped Coach Ukai wouldn't be too harsh on him—but deep down, you knew better. The elder Ukai was a formidable force in coaching; gentle and merciful were two words rarely associated with the man. You pictured Keishin stumbling through the gym doors, breathless and flustered, already apologizing for something that hadn't happened yet, and the thought made your grin widen just a little.

"Finally," a low voice mumbled beside you, snapping you out of your thoughts. Kaito stepped closer, cutting through the space with that same lazy arrogance he always wore like a second skin. His tall frame loomed just a little too close for comfort, his dark eyes fixed on you with an all-too-familiar glint.

"So," he began, tilting his head slightly, "you excited to see me beat Karasuno?"

You didn't even try to hide your disappointment. "Oh, you're still here," you muttered flatly, already turning your back on him as you made your way to the bench where your bag sat waiting. The distance between you was small, but the message was loud and clear.

Kaito followed with a chuckle, undeterred. "Thought I'd bless you by spending my break with you," he said, his tone dripping with smugness, his smirk practically audible.

You rolled your eyes so hard it hurt. "How generous of you," you said dryly. "but I think you'd better go now and warm up with the others before my grandpa comes looking for you."

Kaito sighed dramatically, placing a hand over his chest as if you'd wounded him. "Mm, you're probably right," he agreed, that infuriating smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth again. "I should go. That way, you can fully prepare yourself mentally to see me in action."

You forced a smile, though the disgust beneath it pulsed like a migraine. "Right... sure, let's go with that," you muttered, grabbing your bag and turning around—only to jump at the sight of someone standing directly behind Kaito.

"Holy shit—Yuka!" you gasped, a hand instinctively going to your chest. "I didn't hear you coming."

"Sorry," she said curtly, not even glancing at you as she stepped around to face Kaito with a brightness in her expression that felt almost unnatural. "Hey, I'd love to see you play, Kaito! Can I come too?" she asked, her voice bubbly with enthusiasm.

Kaito barely turned to acknowledge her. "Huh?" He glanced over, only half listening. "Yeah, sure. Whatever. Hey, y/n—"

But when he turned back to address you, you were gone. His eyes darted across the gym, finally landing on you a few meters away, now engrossed in conversation with Chiyo, a notebook already open in your hands. You weren't even looking in his direction.

His jaw clenched.

You slipped away again. Like smoke between his fingers. Every time he thought he had your attention, you vanished, like you were allergic to him. He didn't understand it. Every other girl practically threw themselves at his feet, and yet here you were—too wrapped up in that damn Karasuno benchwarmer to notice.

Yuka followed his gaze, and when she realized who he was watching, her nose crinkled in irritation. "Seriously, what does everyone see in her? She keeps betraying her own school and no one bats an eye..."

Kaito's attention snapped back to her, curiosity piqued. "What did you just say?"

Yuka froze slightly, her confidence wavering beneath the sudden weight of his full attention. "I—uh... I just mean, don't get me wrong! She's good at volleyball and all, but isn't it weird that she keeps helping another school? Especially our rival?"

Kaito didn't answer immediately. He studied her, his gaze assessing, unreadable. It made her fidget uncomfortably.

"W-Which I guess isn't technically forbidden since she's not a direct rival of the Karasuno boys, but still... she chooses them over us. All because of her stupid best friend." Yuka shrugged, laughing nervously.

His brow quirked at that. "Her best friend, yes..." he echoed under his breath, like the words themselves had stirred something deeper.

Yuka sighed dramatically. "I mean, I just know I wouldn't want to be associated with her as a Nekoma girl. What she's doing is wrong, but of course no one cares, because she's sooo great," she added, rolling her eyes for emphasis.

Kaito took a moment. Then, slowly, his lips curved into something too smooth, too calculated. His smirk returned—but this time, it was sharper. More dangerous.

"What's your name again?" he asked, voice silky.

Yuka blinked, startled by the sudden shift. "I-It's Yuka," she stammered.

He nodded slowly, his gaze dropping and rising again like he was committing her to memory. "What a beautiful name—for such a beautiful girl," he murmured, and Yuka's cheeks lit up. He stepped a little closer. "You're right, Yuka. You really are."

Her breath hitched. "I am?"

"Absolutely," he said, letting out a soft sigh. "But the thing is... I just don't know what we could possibly do to knock some sense into her."

Yuka looked up at him, her brows drawn in thought. "Well... maybe someone needs to make her see who's really on her side," she offered tentatively. 

"That's exactly it!" Kaito said, his voice like velvet. "Maybe if she saw how much of a distraction that Karasuno benchwarmer is—how much he's holding her back—she'd finally start focusing where it counts. On Nekoma. On us."

Yuka's eyes lit up with a mix of hope and pride, and Kaito seized the moment.

"She needs to be reminded where her loyalty should lie. That the only people she can truly count on are us." he added, gently brushing a finger against her arm, 

Yuka nodded eagerly, hanging on every word.

"Think you can help me with that, Yuka?" he asked, his voice low and intimate.

"Y-Yeah, of course! You're absolutely right! Anything for you." she breathed.

He smiled, stepping in just enough to press a single finger against her lips.

"Good," he whispered. "It'll be our little secret." He softly said before his gaze turned back to you, who was walking out of the gym with Chiyo by your side to make your way toward the adjacent gymnasium where Karasuno's boys were scheduled to begin their practice match.

The beginning of the afternoon light spilled through the tall windows, casting long, shiny and warm bars across the hallway floor. You clutched your notebook to your chest with one hand, the other idly flipping through its well-worn pages. Every scribble, every note, every hastily drawn diagram served as a reflection of your meticulous analysis from their last match—strategies that worked, weaknesses that needed reinforcement, formations that could be sharpened, and the intangible energy that made Karasuno more than just a team. You were already lost in thought, mentally outlining suggestions to tighten their defense and ideas for unpredictable serve sequences when a loud, exasperated sigh cut through your concentration.

You glanced sideways at Chiyo, who was staring at you like she couldn't decide whether to be amused or concerned.

"What?" you asked, eyebrows lifting.

She blinked, startled as if caught mid-thought. "What?" she echoed, a little too innocently.

You narrowed your eyes at her, your steps slowing. "Why are you sighing like that?"

Chiyo shrugged, her expression the picture of faux nonchalance. "Nothing. Nothing."

You let out a dry, unimpressed chuckle, snapping your notebook shut with a quiet thwap. "Yeah, sure. You're not fooling anyone, Chiyo. What are you complaining about this time?"

She tilted her head, side-eyeing you with a knowing smile. "I was just thinking that maybe—just maybe—you could try focusing on yourself for once, instead of obsessing over their match like your life depends on it."

Your brow furrowed as you looked at her. "What do you mean?"

Chiyo sighed again, this time more theatrically, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Come on. You've analyzed every game they've played this season. You've broken down their entire playbook like a coach in the finals. Honestly, I don't think you have anything new to add to those pages... unless it's 'I'm only here because I'm completely and utterly in love with Keishin Ukai—'

"Woah!" you hissed, cutting her off, your voice dipping into a panicked whisper. You grabbed her arm, eyes darting around. "Stop saying that! You never know who could hear you and tell him!"

Chiyo grinned, unrepentant. "You know what? I hope someone hears it. Maybe then he'll finally get the hint and you two can stop dancing around each other and actually be together."

You rolled your eyes, though a blush had already started creeping up your neck. Desperate to shift focus, you reopened your notebook, burying your gaze in your notes. Chiyo, however, wasn't done.

She fished around in her bag and pulled out one of her own notebooks. With dramatic flair, she tore a blank page from it and laid it on top of yours. You looked up at her, confused.

"Here," she said, her tone suddenly soft but earnest. "For once, forget about the match. Focus on him. Write that letter."

You stared at the pristine page, blank and waiting. "You're seriously still on this letter idea? I'm not going to write one. And definitely not now, in public, in plain sight. Are you crazy?"

You both came to a stop outside the doors to the gym, the low thud of volleyballs and echoing shouts seeping through the walls. You closed your notebook again, but the blank page Chiyo had slipped in remained inside.

She wiggled her eyebrows at you with a playful grin. "I think it's the perfect moment. While he's in action... you know. All sweaty and focused. Kinda hot, right?"

You groaned, shaking your head with a laugh. "Gross. You're gross." Turning away, you tightened your grip on your bag and began walking toward the gym doors. "Anyway, I'll see you tomorrow, Chiyo."

"Think of his rock-hard abs while you write! That'll help!" she called after you, just as you opened the door.

Your heart nearly stopped as you stumbled inside, cheeks aflame. You slammed the door shut behind you, praying no one had heard her outrageous comment. Thankfully, every player on the court was too absorbed in the match to notice your dramatic entrance. You quickly slipped along the edge of the gym, ducking low and skirting past stray bags and water bottles until you reached the far wall behind Karasuno's bench. There, you sank onto the wooden floor, trying to make yourself as small and unobtrusive as possible.

You pulled your bag closer, retrieved your notebook and pen, and rested them in your lap. For a moment, you just sat there, listening to the rhythm of sneakers squeaking against the floor, the sound of the ball being spiked, and the voices echoing across the court.

You loved Chiyo, but she had a knack for pushing buttons you didn't know you had. A love letter? Here? In front of everyone? It was insane. Ludicrous. You could barely write one even when you were alone in your room, let alone during a match in a packed gym. Besides, you weren't even sure it was love. It was a crush. Just a silly, harmless crush that had been keeping you awake at night and distracted during the day for an entire year. Nothing grand.

And then you looked up.

Your eyes found him almost immediately, as if they were drawn to him like magnets. Ukai was standing just past the sidelines, shouting instructions, every line of his posture confident, strong, and so distinctly him. As if sensing your gaze, he turned. And the moment your eyes met, everything else faded.

A smile—warm, easy, and unmistakably for you—lit up his face. He winked.

Your heart thudded so hard you were surprised no one else could hear it. A swarm of butterflies erupted in your stomach, and your cheeks flushed pink. You ducked your head, overwhelmed.

"Fuck," you whispered to yourself, the truth creeping in. Chiyo had a point. You were getting really bad at hiding it.

You opened your notebook, intending to force your focus back onto the game, to chase away the heat in your chest with cold, analytical observation. But instead, your eyes fell on the blank page. The one Chiyo had given you. It stared back at you like a challenge.

Your fingers hovered over it, pen in hand. You bit your lip. Slowly, your gaze lifted again to find Keishin—his voice carried as he coached, his attention fully on the game—but your heart thumped harder just watching him exist.

Maybe Chiyo was right. Maybe writing it out would help. Maybe it was crazy. It was definitely crazy. But with a small, resolute sigh, you lowered your eyes again. Your pen touched the paper. And as the noise of the game hummed around you, you started to write.

***

Chapter 33: Letter

Chapter Text

Karasuno was in the middle of an intense set, the sound of synchronized footsteps echoed and commands bounced against the high ceilings. Sweat streaked foreheads, muscles burned with exertion, and the air was thick with tension and the sharp tang of effort.

The court was alive with motion. The whistle blew—match point.

"One more!" Keishin Ukai barked, voice hoarse from shouting. He crouched low in his setter's stance, eyes locked on the spinning ball that soared over the net from the opposing serve. Across the court stood Setagaya Tech High, one of Tokyo's most consistent powerhouse teams. Their defense was brutal, their attacks unrelenting.

But so was Karasuno.

Makoto was already in motion, reading the angle of the receive. Yusuke, a broad-shouldered middle blocker with a grin that usually meant danger, slammed his feet down into position, ready for the fake. Ukai tracked the pass with laser focus—clean receive. His fingers met the ball in a fast, fluid motion, soft yet precise. It arced high, hanging for a breathless heartbeat.

Makoto took flight.

Time slowed as he connected. The force of his spike sent the ball whistling past the blockers, landing just inside the back corner.

Point. Set won. 

Makoto pumped his fists in the air with a shout, his roar of triumph echoing. Yusuke grabbed him in a headlock, laughing breathlessly. Players collided in a chaotic celebration, all adrenaline and elation. The echo of their cheers rebounded off the gym walls, mingling with the sound of their coach's sharp whistle.

Ukai broke free from the group hug, his forehead still damp with sweat and his eyes gleaming. His grin stretched ear to ear. They'd done it. Even if it was only practice, it was still another step closer to the nationals.

But as the noise surged behind him, his eyes immediately darted across the gym.

There you were.

Tucked in your usual spot by the gym wall, legs crossed beneath you, a notebook balanced on your lap. Your brows were furrowed in deep focus, pen scribbling rapidly across the pages. The world could've been on fire around you, but your attention was sealed inside that worn book.

Not entirely with strategies, though.

Your eyes had flicked up mid-match, drawn to the movement of the court, but more specifically to him. Keishin. The way his body moved—fluid, sharp, controlled—his focus unshakable. Every motion he made had intent, precision. You'd seen that look on his face a thousand times, yet you weren't getting tired of it. The fire in his eyes, the small grin when he outwitted the blockers, the way his hand lingered just a second longer after a successful set.

You were supposed to be taking notes.

Instead, your hand had drifted across a separate piece of paper, the words that formed no longer strategy or analysis, but the ones you'd tucked deep inside yourself for a long time now. Your pen scratched softly across the page, confessing what your voice never could. 

Surprisingly, the words had come faster and easier than what you'd expected. Chiyo had been right, it felt good to be able to release some of what you were feeling, even if it was just a bit. You were almost done now even. You'd spent the entire match deeply focused on it, barely paying attention to what was going on around you.

"Y/n! Did you see that?!" Ukai's voice rang out suddenly, catching you off guard like a thunderclap.

Your heart leapt in your chest. Shit, you'd forgotten to pay attention. Panic surged. You gasped softly, hastily folding the half-finished letter and stuffing it deep into the inner pocket of your notebook just as he reached you.

He jogged over with flushed cheeks and wild energy, grin still wide from the high of the win. "We absolutely destroyed them!"

You slammed the notebook shut a little too quickly, feigning nonchalance. Your hands trembled slightly, so you reopened it and flipped back to one of the pages with actual strategy notes, pen poised like you'd been there all along.

Ukai slowed as he got closer, his excitement faltering at your continued focus. You hadn't even looked up. His footsteps softened as he approached, leaning one shoulder against the wall beside you, watching the way your pen flew over the paper.

"Y/n... did you even pay attention?" His voice was quieter now, not angry, not even disappointed—just seeking you.

You faked scribbled some last words, then tapped the tip of the pen to the notebook before finally lifting your gaze. A small smile curled on your lips as you held the book up. 

"O-Of course I did," you replied trying to hide your nervousness, your voice warm but pointed. "How else would I have written down all these new strategies—and weak points you need to work on, otherwise?" 

Ukai blinked, taking the notebook, while you were busy mentally thanking God for the previous notes you'd taken but hadn't shown yet. He then raised an eyebrow. "Weak points? Didn't you see the match we just played? We were amazing!"

You stood, brushing the back of your skirt off before taking the notebook back—and promptly smacked it against his head.

"Ow—hey! What was that for?!" He rubbed the spot with a wounded pout, but your chuckle softened the sting.

"Arrogance is dangerous, Keishin," you said, poking his chest lightly. "You all played very well today. But there is always room for improvement if you want to make it to Nationals. The Inter High's are next week, remember?"

He rolled his eyes but couldn't hide the smirk tugging at his mouth. "Yeah, yeah, I know. We all want that."

"Good," you nodded. "Then you'll also understand that if I can spot your weak spots, then your opponents will too. Your game has to be airtight—impenetrable." You stepped closer. "You need to utilize this camp week to the best, especially tomorrow. And here's how all of you can improve."

You waved the notebook in front of him, and his fingers reached out to take it, but you jerked it away playfully.

"Ah ah ah, not so fast," you teased. "What do you say to your awesome best friend who's going out of her way to improve her best friend's mediocre team?"

"Mediocre?!" he gasped, affronted. "We're not mediocre!"

You leaned closer, brow raised and arms crossed. "Yeah? And who's the reason for that?"

He exhaled through his nose, trying not to grin as he pushed your face gently to the side. "You."

"Thank you very much," you beamed, handing him the notebook, ready to watch it like a hawk.

He took it with a smile, but as your fingers brushed in the hand-off, a flicker of warmth spread across your body, sending a shiver down your spine. Your eyes met in the charged silence, the noise around you fading to a hush.

Then it shattered.

"Wooohooo! Y/n did you see that?!" Makoto howled, leaping onto his best friend's back, nearly knocking him over.

"Oi! Get off me, you idiot!" Ukai staggered, laughing as he fought him off.

Yusuke slung an arm casually around your shoulder. "And there's our genius tactician," he grinned, his voice easy, his body warm beside you.

It wasn't long before the rest of the team poured in, the buzz of their voices echoing beneath the high ceiling. The heavy scent of teenage boys' sweat lingered thickly in the air, much to your displeasure. Laughter rang out, loud and contagious, as the karasuno players jostled one another, high-fiving and patting backs in celebration.

Makoto bounded forward first. He flung himself dramatically against Ukai's back with a cheer, "Genius tactician is an understatement! Thanks to you and your new strategies, we'll crush everyone and make it to the nationals!" His voice was nearly a shout, full of excitement and uncontainable pride, his arms thrown around Ukai's shoulders as if trying to share the joy physically. The force of his jump nearly sent both of them tumbling forward, a chaotic tangle of limbs and laughter as Ukai staggered forward to keep them upright.

Ukai grunted in protest, trying to steady himself under the weight of Makoto still latched onto his back, but momentum carried him forward—and closer to you. You stood just a few steps away, having barely managed to stop laughing at the scene as Ukai's eyes locked on to you, mesmerized by your laugh, until Makoto suddenly pushed him lower, almost laying on his back, to be face to face with you.

"You piece of shi-" He complained but it fell on deaf hears.

"Hey," Makoto whispered conspiratorially, a crooked smile on his face as he tilted his head toward you, "don't say this to the old man, but I think you'd surpass him easily if you became coach." His wink was cheeky and full of mischief, the kind that made your laughter bubble up again before you could help it.

Coach? You? That was ridicilous. You'd never even thought about it. Sure, you loved giving out advice to better their play and write down new strategies for them but to actually become coach? You weren't sure if that was for you. After all, you'd been training to be a professional player all your life.

Ukai had caught the exchange, and though he was still trying to peel Makoto off him, his eyes narrowed ever so slightly, brows tugging together at the quiet little compliment. His jaw tensed just for a second before he composed himself.

But he wasn't the only one who wasn't laughing.

A sudden clearing of the throat shattered the moment like glass meeting pavement. The sound cut through the room and froze everyone in place. One by one, heads turned to find Coach Ikkei Ukai—Keishin's grandfather—standing with arms crossed and an unreadable expression carved deep into his face. The lines of age etched into his skin only made his stern gaze more intense. He stood like a sentinel, towering and unmoving.

"What did you just say, Makoto?" he asked, his voice calm but undeniably firm, carrying the kind of authority that silenced even the rowdiest of boys.

Makoto went pale. ""I—uh—nothing!" his grip slipping as he slid off Ukai's back and fell to the ground but quickly stood up. "Nothing, Coach! W-We were just- um... celebrating?" he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck with a nervous laugh, beads of sweat collecting on his brow.

Coach Ukai raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, and slowly turned his attention toward you. You swallowed hard, standing a little straighter under his gaze. Then, his eyes dropped to the notebook still clutched tightly in your hands, and he extended one weathered palm.

Without hesitation, you placed the notebook in his hand, heart pounding in your chest like a drumline. You watched as he flipped through the pages with deliberate movements, scanning your notes—your observations, your ideas, your strategies. Every line you'd written had been born of intense focus and thought, of watching every practice and analyzing every play. You'd grown up under his shadow, always admiring his skills, always wanting to prove you could be more than just a silent observer. You wanted him to see your efforts—not as a nuisance, not as a distraction—but as a contribution.

Even though you'd known Ikkei your entire life, that didn't mean he terrified you any less when it came to volleyball. He had an intensity that never dimmed, a standard that never lowered, and gaining his approval was something you never took lightly.

As you watched his eyes dart across the paper, your anxiety climbed. Then, a soft touch—light, almost imperceptible—caught your attention. Keishin had reached over, his little finger brushing against yours, hooking ever so slightly. The contact was small, but it was grounding. His presence beside you, quiet yet reassuring, sent a wave of calm through your trembling limbs. You exhaled softly, grateful for the silent gesture.

Ikkei finally looked up, gaze meeting yours with the same unreadable expression. Your breath hitched as he stepped forward, handing the notebook back into your hands. Then, with a stern face, he placed a hand atop your head.

"Not bad," he said, not sparing a single smile as he nodded once before he stepped closer. "You'll go far, y/n," He added and Ukai's eyes slightly widened at his words. "sooner than you think." The corners of his mouth then ever so slightly raised, making your brows furrowed in confusion and your brain stop functioning. Were you just seeing things?

Then, without further comment, Ikkei turned on his heel. "Everyone! Listen carefully to what she says while I go prepare for the next practice match," he barked over his shoulder, his voice full of conviction and finality.

He disappeared toward the locker room, leaving behind a stunned silence. Ukai stood still, his mind echoing his grandpa's words, a slight nervousness tugging at his heart before he shook it away and focused back on you.

You stood frozen, eyes wide, heart thundering with disbelief. "Oh my god..." you whispered, barely able to comprehend what had just happened. You turned toward Keishin, who mirrored your shock with a grin that threatened to split his face in two.

"Oh my god!" he echoed, and in that moment, the sheer joy broke through the restraint. You both squealed in excitement. Without thinking, you launched yourself into his arms, and he caught you instinctively, spinning you around as you both laughed.

"I can't believe it!" you cried, your face flushed.

"Me neither!" he said, laughing with you.

"He smiled?!" You said, as if to make sure it hadn't been your imagination.

"I didn't think he was capable." Ukai replied, making you chuckle before your eyes widened again and you gasped. You'd almost forgotten the most important part.

"Oh my god, he freaking approved!" You shouted in disbelief.

He set you down, but your arms still looped around each other, neither of you willing to let go just yet. "Of course he did! It was time he finally did. Your notes are amazing after all." Keishin said before his eyes found yours again. His expression softened, almost mesmerized by you as he softly spoke, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. "You're amazing, y/n."

You blinked, taken off guard, the quiet sincerity in his voice sending a fresh flutter of butterflies loose in your chest. His eyes were locked on yours, warm and intense as again, every noises in the gym faded, leaving your focus entirely on his brown, beautiful, perfect, dreamy eyes—

"Ahem."

The awkward clearing of a throat shattered the spell as effectively as a slap. You both turned in unison, and there stood the rest of the team, arms crossed, expressions far too smug.

"Should we get you a room?" Yusuke asked with an amused expression.

Both your eyes widened and instantly, you and Keishin jumped apart as if burned. "What?! Eww! W-we're just best friends!" you blurted, too quickly.

"Totally platonic!" Keishin added, nodding too hard.

"Yeah! How can you even say that?! That's gross! We would never!" you said with a laugh that sounded far too forced while wiping your hands on your clothes.

"Never!" Ukai mirrored, his face red while he did the same.

The team looked unimpressed.

"Mhm," Makoto said, arms crossed and a knowing smirk pulling at his lips.

The heat of embarrassment still tingled on your skin as you faced the entire Karasuno team, their gazes a mix of knowing smirks and teasing grins. Trying to hide the sudden flush on your cheeks, you cleared your throat and quickly stepped forward, bending down to retrieve your notebook from where you'd dropped it during the excitement. 

"A-Anyway," you began, determined to shift the attention away from the awkward moment. Your voice regained its confident, measured tone, that natural authority you'd earned from seasons of observing, analyzing, and advising. "I really think you guys should review your signals. They're too obvious for the most part."

A groan came from one of the players, his shoulders slumping in theatrical despair. "Aww, but it took me a week to come up with them!"

You offered a sympathetic smile, inching closer to him, carefully choosing your words. "I know, I'm sorry... However," your tone softened but remained firm, "no offense, but I was able to figure them out in a single set. They're very generic and easy to read."

He let out a sigh of resignation, rubbing the back of his neck as he nodded. You took the opportunity to step back and flip open your notebook to a newly marked page. Your voice lifted with excitement.

"Which is why I came up with a new set of signals for all of you to use for your big match tomorrow!" you announced, your eyes lighting up.

The reaction was immediate—your teammates crowding closer, intrigued, eyes scanning the diagrams and shorthand notes. You held the notebook open for them to see, pointing to a series of coded gestures and shifts.

"With these, it should take Nekoma a little longer to catch on. Use that to your advantage," you explained, your finger trailing over the page. "Though remember, this won't fix everything. You still have areas to work on."

Their collective expressions shifted to mild exasperation, and you huffed with mock annoyance, placing your hands on your hips.

"Hey, don't look at me like that. I'm trying to help you win. You're welcome, by the way." Your gaze narrowed playfully before you turned to Makoto.

"Makoto," you addressed him, locking eyes. "Your spikes are powerful, sure, but predictable. That makes them easy to counter. You need to vary your approach. Try leaning slightly left before rushing right, or fake a jump to throw them off. Nekoma's observant—they'll fall for it if you mix it up."

He tilted his head, considering the advice, nodding slowly as he internalized the suggestion.

Then your eyes moved to another member of the team. "Akio, as the libero, you need to be hyper-aware—three times more than the others. I know it's a tough job, but your role is the backbone of this team's defense. Stay sharp."

Akio let out a breath, accepting the truth of your words with a resigned nod.

"Taro," you continued, directing your attention to him now. "You're too focused on the ball. I know it sounds strange, but when you're too fixated on one thing, you lose awareness of the rest. Volleyball isn't about the ball alone—it's about the people around you. You have to read your teammates, anticipate their moves, and adjust yours accordingly. Coordination is everything."

Taro frowned slightly, then gave a small understanding nod as he sighed. "Whatever."

Finally, your gaze settled on your best friend, his gaze fixed on you already making you nervous again.

"Keishin," you began, your eyes drifting to your notebook to stay focused. "You're a great setter—no one's doubting that. But sometimes, when the pressure gets high, you lose a bit of precision. You panic at the last second, and it throws off the timing. Work on keeping your head clear and your hands steady."

He raised an eyebrow, his grin widening at your seriousness.

Then, with a mischievous grin, you turned to the tall middle-blocker. "Yusuke, you're great. Don't change a thing."

Laughter erupted among the team, and Yusuke puffed out his chest dramatically. "Finally, someone recognizes greatness!"

"Hey! That's not fair," Keishin protested, stepping toward you. "We got lectures, and he gets praise?"

You smirked and poked him in the chest. "Well, do what I say, and you won't get a lecture next time."

He crossed his arms, feigning a pout. "You're unbelievable."

"And you're bad at volleyball," you shot back, your grin wide.

He snorted. "I am so much better than you."

"Please," you said with mock offense, folding your arms. "Did you forget how I beat you in our last three two-on-two matches?"

"Well, first of all, we didn't get the chance our match earlier. For all you know, I could've won." He responded, making you roll your eyes. "Second of all, I am a gentleman, Y/n," he leaned in, face close to yours, his voice low and teasing. "I can't let a girl lose."

You rolled your eyes and pushed his face away with your palm. "Is that so? Go work on your throws, Mr. Gentleman, then we'll talk."

He raised an eyebrow at you, smirking. "Ooh, someone's confidence is growing now that she's got my grandpa's seal of approval. Careful, Y/n, your ego's starting to swell."

You laughed, leaning back slightly. "Mmm, can't help it when you keep feeding it by losing to me."

"Hey, I win!" He complained but you only raised an eyebrow. "sometimes," he added and you couldn't help but laugh.

"You're stupid," You softly said as you playfully pushed him.

But as his eyes lingered on you, still laughing, still close, something twisted quietly in his chest. You looked so happy, yet for some reason, so far away. He didn't know why the thought made his stomach turn.

"Alright boys, enough chitchatting. Gather around quickly so that we can get on with the match against Nekoma already. I wanna go home early." Coach Ikkei's voice echoed through the gymnasium as he strode in, flanked by Nekoma's coach and the rest of your school's team with Kaito leading the group. His eyes found you, giving you a flirtatious wink as he walked to the other side.

Your eyes narrowed, ignoring your shiver of disgust that went down your spine, as you turned back to Keishin, your gaze a little more focused now, voice lower and more serious than before. The playful air had shifted into something strategic, thoughtful.

"Okay, listen carefully," you started, tilting your head slightly toward the court, your voice soft so only he could hear. "Play exactly the way you just did. Don't change anything. Don't apply any of the strategies I gave you just now."

Ukai blinked in confusion, his brows knitting together as he tilted his head slightly. "What? Why not? Isn't that the whole point of going over them just now?"

You offered him a calm, knowing smile, the kind that always made him feel like you were three steps ahead in a game he didn't even realize he was playing. "Well," you began, lifting a finger like a teacher about to explain, "First of all, because you can't learn and execute brand-new signals in just five minutes. You'll trip over your own plans. And secondly, because if you keep everything as it is now, they'll think they've got you figured out."

Ukai's eyes lit up in realization, a mischievous grin forming on his lips. "And then tomorrow, we blindside them."

You grinned wider. "Exactly. Karasuno will win."

He stepped back, eyes gleaming, and pointed a playful finger at you. "You're a genius."

"I know," you said with a smirk and gestured with your head toward the court. "Now go win against them."

With a confident nod, Ukai turned, jogging back to the court, his back straight, his stride strong. You couldn't help but watch him go, your eyes trailing along the lines of his shoulder blades beneath the tight fabric of his practice shirt, lingering a second too long as he stretched before joining the rest of the team. You bit your bottom lip subconsciously, heat rising in your cheeks as your gaze dipped lower, tracing the way his muscles flexed with each motion.

"Y/n?"

You jolted like you'd been electrocuted, your heart jumping into your throat as you snapped around to see your grandfather, Nekomata, standing behind you with an amused expression tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Oh my god, Grandpa!" you gasped, holding a hand to your chest. "You scared the shit out of me!"

"Hey, language," He warned.

"Sorry." You cleared your throat. "Good heavens, Grand Papa! Thou didst frighten the very life from mine humble vessel!" You mocked

"That's better," He chuckled while shaking his head, eyes glinting mischievously as he walked closer to you. "And I apologize too, I didn't mean to interrupt your admiring."

Your face turned scarlet. "W-What?! I wasn't— I was just.. I wasn't admiring! I was just watching the court!"

He chuckled more, looking between you and Ukai. "Sure, sure," he said, tone teasing.

You narrowed your eyes and stepped closer to him, punching his shoulder lightly. "Stop laughing! I wasn't admiring!"

But he only lifted his hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay," he said, still grinning. "You weren't admiring."

You looked away with a huff, arms crossed, your cheeks still warm.

Nekomata's expression softened, his head slightly tilting at your reaction before he cleared his throat. "So, are you nervous about tomorrow?" He asked.

You shrugged. "Well, the main focus won't really be on my team. They're filming the great 'battle of the garbage dump' as they call it, even if it's not an official national's match." You replied, turning to him.

"It's still a big event for every team present at this camp. There will be hundreds of people watching your matches, live and on television." He said as he stepped closer to you. "But that's not all," He said, his tone shifting and you raised an eyebrow. "I have great news, y/n," He started, his expression excited.

"What is it?" You asked, your heart beating slightly faster at his words.

"Well—" He started but a voice called out from behind, interrupting him.

"Hey, Coach! You ready to start? Everyone's waiting."

You and your grandfather turned simultaneously to the voice to see Hinode standing a few feet away, his eyes sharp eyes that always carried a hint of trouble, with the kind of smile that girls swooned over and the ego to match it. Objectively, sure, he was handsome. But damn was he a douche bag. 

"Yes, Kaito. You're right, everyone's tired so let's not keep them waiting any longer. I'll go sit on the bench," your grandfather replied with a smile. As he turned to go, he lightly tapped your shoulder. "I'll tell you the news tonight at dinner."

He walked off toward the benches, leaving you alone with Kaito before you even had a chance to stop him. You sighed, annoyed at the interruption. Now you'd have to wait to hear what your grandpa wanted to say. And if there was one thing you hated, it was waiting.

Kaito's smirk widened as he stepped closer, hands in his pockets. "Still playing traitors, I see," he said, eyes trailing deliberately past you to where the Karasuno team was warming up.

You crossed your arms, keeping your stance neutral. "Like I said earlier, I'm on the girls' team, Hinode. I don't owe the boys' team anything."

He tilted his head with mock consideration. "I still think you should support your own school. A girl as smart—and pretty—as you should use those talents to help her own side instead of some countryside team."

You let out a humorless laugh, taking a small step toward him. "Maybe I would, if our school's boys' team wasn't full of egotistical idiots like you."

His smirk twitched but didn't fade. "Egotistical idiots? That's a little harsh, y/n."

"Don't call me by my first name. We're not friends."

"You're right," he murmured, voice low and suggestive. "Friends isn't the word I'd use for the kind of relationship I want with you."

His steps were slow but purposeful as he moved closer, the air around him charged with the weight of unspoken tension. His eyes locked onto yours like a predator sizing up its prey, and there was a glint in them that set every nerve in your body on edge—not in excitement, but irritation and disgust. His presence was the kind that demanded space, and yet devoured it with every inch he closed.

Across the court, Keishin Ukai stood with arms crossed and an unreadable expression clouding his face, unfocused as his grandfather spoke to the rest of the team. His narrowed gaze never left the two of you, laser-focused and hard, like he could burn through Hinode with just a look. His fists clenched tightly at his sides, knuckles turning pale with restraint.

What the hell did that bastard want with you this time?

It wasn't anything new—Hinode, with that ever-present smug smile and effortless confidence, had a talent for inserting himself into situations where he didn't belong. Especially when it came to you. He always managed to appear, as if summoned by the very air you breathed, during every match between Karasuno and Nekoma or just basically any time. Always just a little too close. Always just a little too familiar.

Ukai noticed it every single time. Kaito Hinode, the oh-so-beloved captain and setter of Nekoma, with his annoyingly good hair and overly rehearsed smirk, sauntering up like he owned the place. Like he had every right to stand beside you. And you— well, you didn't exactly push him away. That was what stung. What irritated. What made Ukai grind his jaw until it ached.

He wasn't even sure why it bothered him so much. He told himself it was because he knew what kind of guy Kaito was. Arrogant. Self-serving. The type who chased attention and dropped it the moment something shinier came along. Ukai had seen enough guys like him to know the type inside and out. That was all it was—he was just looking out for you. As your best friend, it was his responsibility to keep you safe from guys like that.

That's what he told himself.

And yet, every time Hinode flashed that cocky grin in your direction, every time he leaned just a little too close or laughed a little too loud at something you said, Ukai felt a twist in his gut he couldn't quite explain. His fists would clench before he could stop them, his posture would stiffen. He'd find himself glaring without even realizing.

It didn't make sense. Why should it bother him this much?

He knew he didn't have a say. You were free to talk to whoever you wanted. Hell, you didn't owe him anything. But still—something about seeing you with Kaito made everything in Ukai want to recoil. Made him want to pull you away. Made him want to say something.

But he never did. Because what could he even say?

"I don't like that guy" wasn't a good enough reason. "I don't trust him" sounded petty. "He's not good enough for you" was crossing a line he wasn't sure he had the right to cross even if that playboy asshole most definitely wasn't. So he kept his mouth shut. Watched from across the court. Pretended it didn't get under his skin.

But it did.

He was your best friend. He should be the one beside you, laughing with you, walking with you between matches. Not Hinode. Not someone who barely knew you. Not someone who only noticed you when it was convenient for his ego.

Ukai told himself he was being logical. Protective. That it was just concern. Just caution. 

Still, there was one tiny thread he held onto. One thing that kept him from saying the things bubbling inside his chest: You never talked about Hinode. You never mentioned his name. Never brought him up after matches. Never commented on the way he acted around you.

And maybe that meant something. Maybe he didn't matter to you the way Ukai feared. Maybe the irritation Ukai felt watching Hinode hover was something you felt too.

Maybe. Hopefully.

But then he saw you laugh. The sound of it carried faintly across the gym, light and genuine, and something in Ukai's chest twisted painfully. 

"Don't you have enough fangirls trailing after you to take your pick from and leave me alone?" you said, arms crossed as you stared up at Kaito Hinode, your posture stiff but your words sharp. 

Hinode only chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement as though your insult were a flirtation.

Ukai's heartbeat began to thrum faster, a low drumbeat of anxiety and anger. His jaw tightened. God, how he wished he could hear what you were saying. He could only guess, and his imagination was not kind.

"Maybe," Hinode drawled, his tone low and laden with innuendo. He lifted a hand and let his fingers brush under your chin, tilting your face up towards his. "but none of them are you."

Ukai's breath caught. His eyes widened. "Okay, that's it," he muttered under his breath, his voice a low growl. Without thinking, he started walking toward the two of you, every step heavy with rising fury.

A firm hand clamped down on his shoulder.

"What are you doing?" Makoto's voice came from beside him, quiet but firm as to not interrupt hhis coach's talking.

Ukai whipped his head around, eyes blazing. "What do you mean 'what am I doing'? I'm going to help Y/n. That asshole's obviously bothering her." He whisper-shouted.

Makoto raised an eyebrow. "Okay, but maybe starting a fist fight the day before our big match isn't exactly the best strategy? Besides, coach is talking. Wouldn't want to get your ass-whooped again, would you?"

Ukai gritted his teeth as he turned back his gaze toward you in resignation, and his heart clenched. There you were, still standing close to Hinode, still not pushing him away. Still letting him hold your chin.

"So what do you say you and I get out of here after Nekoma crushes Karasuno? " Hinode murmured, his voice low and laced with sleaze, "I'll show you why they call me the ace — I always know exactly where to hit." His eyes roamed over your face with a cocky assurance, his tone heavy with implication. The innuendo hung in the air, vulgar and smug.

You didn't flinch, though every nerve in your body screamed to drive your fist into his smug face. Instead, you let a slow smile unfurl, the corners of your mouth curling with wicked amusement. Your eyes locked on his, glimmering with disdain as you leaned in, closing the space until your breath ghosted across his lips.

Hinode's mouth parted instinctively, cocky confidence faltering for a split second as if he expected you to seal the gap.

Your lips hovered a whisper away from his. "I would rather die," you breathed, the words slicing colder than any blade before you leaned back. You watched with satisfaction as Hinode's expression flickered—just a moment of confusion, of stunned silence—but it was enough.

You turned on your heel and walked away, your stride confident, the sound of your shoes echoing in the gym. Behind you, you didn't see his eyes darken.

Hinode stood still, his smirk frozen in place—but it had changed. The charm in it was gone. What remained was something colder, something calculating. His gaze followed you as you made your way to Karasuno's side, your smile bright and easy the moment you reached the other side of the court.

His fists tightened at his sides, his jaw working as he forced his expression into neutrality.

Coach Ukai was done by now and it wasn't long before the rest of Karasuno gathered around you, eager to see the strategies in your notebook. You opened it, pointing at something inside as you spoke, your voice animated as you explained your notes. They listened closely, nodding, and Hinode watched with hawk-like intensity from afar as you flipped through the pages.

Slowly, a new smirk—this one crueler—curled back onto his lips. He turned and walked back to his side of the court, his posture casual, every move deliberately calm. But inside, something was simmering.

He'd have you, one way or another. But first, there was only one thing standing in his way. And it had to be dealt with.

Back on your side, you were focused on the pep talk, now more than ever. "Okay, guys," you began, your voice calm but firm, eyes scanning their expectant expressions, "I'm glad you're eager to test the new strategies and suggestions—but remember, right now isn't the time to go all out. Save that fire. Learn the signals later tonight, get familiar with the flow of my new suggestions after this match. Trust me on this. It will take Nekoma by surprise and make the victory tomorrow taste better." You smirked, your eyes flickering back to Hinode for a second.

A collective nod rippled through the group. Makoto, always the one with the fiercest gleam in his eye, glanced toward the other side of the court. His jaw tensed as he watched Nekoma gathered in a tight huddle, your grandfather speaking with the kind of quiet authority that could still your breath in a heartbeat.

"You're right," Makoto admitted, though his voice trembled with restrained emotion. "We need all the odds on our side. But damn, I really wanna beat Nekoma even now." His gaze didn't shift as he spoke, his eyes still locked on the red and black jerseys across the court.

You reached out and patted his shoulder with a small, knowing smile. "Revenge is a dish best served cold, Makoto. But who's to say you can't beat them even now?"

His head turned, eyes meeting yours, determination swirling behind them. He gave a single, resolute nod. "Absolutely," he breathed. Then, pivoting with renewed intensity, he shouted toward the rest of Karasuno, voice ringing like a battle cry through the gym. "We'll crush them now and tomorrow with no difficulty!"

The team erupted, the sharp sound of sneakers against floor, fists punching the air, voices uniting in a thunderous roar.

"Hell yeah, we're gonna destroy them!" Ukai's voice cut through, rough and amused right next to you. "And it'll be all thanks to you," he grinned, his expression wicked as he playfully elbowed your arm. The sudden contact made your breath catch and a heat crawled up your neck, flushing your cheeks a soft pink. You turned your face slightly to hide it.

"You guys do all the hard work," you muttered, trying to recover your cool. "I just suggest."

Ukai let out a low chuckle. "Well, the team appreciates your suggestions—they don’t carry the same threat of doom my grandpa’s do."

You laughed, a real one this time, shoulders relaxing. "I don't know how you guys do it. I'm not even on the team and I'm terrified of him."

He smirked. "Hey, I'm his grandson, and I'm still terrified."

Your laughter echoed again at his words, warm and infectious, and for a moment, Ukai just... watched. He stood still, eyes softening as they traced the curve of your smile, the way your eyes crinkled, the sound that seemed to make the air around you shimmer. You caught his gaze, your laughter quieting to a gentle smile.

Time seemed to slow, the background noise dulling to a low hum. The world faded into a vignette of dim lights and gym shadows, and the only thing he could focus on were you. His heart skipped once, twice.

He didn't know what came over him when he said the next words. "Y/n, I-uh.. well, I've been meaning to— I... could I ask you something?" Ukai's voice cracked slightly with uncertainty, as if stepping off the edge of something he'd been afraid to approach. He wanted to know— no, he needed to know what the deal with Hinode was.

"Yes?" you replied, voice softer now, your body inching closer, unaware of the way your breath had quickened.

His gaze darted from your eyes to your lips and back again, tension coiling between the two of you like a string drawn taut. "I-I... " He started, but the words were failing him. He couldn't. "Can I see your notebook again?"

You blinked, stunned, the weight of the moment crashing to the floor like shattered glass. Leaning back quickly, you swallowed hard. "Oh...right, uhm.." You cleared your throat. "Of course."

Ukai's expression shifted to one of slight panic. "I just want to verify the suggestions for me. You know, to help remember them."

You laughed—forced and breathy—as you reached for the notebook. "Y-yeah, of course! Here you go, haha..." Clearing your throat again, hoping it would wash away your embarrassment with it, you handed it over, cursing your heartbeat for betraying you.

Why were you so nervous? Why had you expected something else, especially now right before a match? You knew better. You knew he didn't like you that way. But that didn't dull the sting of disappointment, didn't stop the tiny fracture that opened in your chest.

"Thanks," he said gently, almost apologetically.

You nodded, clutching at the pieces of your pride. "I-uh... I need to go talk to Yusuke about something," you muttered before turning quickly, walking away with long strides.

He watched you go, guilt painted clearly across his face. The moment your eyes left him, Ukai groaned and smacked himself in the face with your notebook. "You stupid moron," he hissed at himself, voice low and full of self-loathing.

"Wow, what's with the sudden down talk?" Makoto's voice made him jump. The taller boy raised an eyebrow. "Confidence problems right before the practice match? Come on, you know we're better than them."

"Oh.. no—no, no, I wasn't.." Ukai stammered, clutching the notebook tighter. "I just... I misread something about one of Y/N's suggestions in here. Thought I had it memorized."

Makoto waved a dismissive hand. "Pff, come on dude. You'll have all the time later to study it. Now, give me the notebook—I need to review a point."

He reached for it, but Ukai instinctively pulled it back. "No, wait. I need to see something first."

"Bro, the match is about to start. I really need to see it."

"I had it first!" Ukai snapped, tugging it closer to himself.

"Exactly! And you already had all the time to look at it!"

They both pulled harder, neither willing to let go. In the heat of their tug-of-war, Makoto's foot slipped slightly. He yanked too hard. Ukai lost his grip. The notebook tumbled to the floor with a loud slap. And more alarmingly—a single page fluttered loose, landing softly beside it. Both boys stared at it, eyes widening in sync, horror creeping across their faces.

"Shit," they whispered in unison, the word escaping their mouths like a shared curse. The quiet panic between them was deafening.

Makoto spun toward Ukai, voice hushed but urgent, his hand shooting out in accusation. "Look what you made me do! One page ripped! Y/n's gonna kill us!"

"Me?!" Ukai shot back, flabbergasted, as he dropped to his knees beside the notebook, scrambling to gather the fallen pieces. "That was entirely your fault!"

Makoto was already grabbing the notebook with frantic movements, smoothing the cover as if it could erase the damage. "Hide the evidence!" he muttered like a soldier covering up a breach.

Ukai's hand hovered over the stray page, but the second his fingers brushed its surface, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion. The texture was different—thicker, smoother, like a page intentionally placed rather than carelessly torn. His brow furrowed in confusion. "That's weird..." he mumbled. "That's not from the notebook." He continued, turning the page over in his hand.

Makoto turned to him. "What is it?" he asked, crawling closer and before Ukai could respond, Makoto reached out. "Let me see," he said quickly, snatching the paper from Ukai's hands before the other could react.

"Hey! I was going to read it!" Ukai protested, but Makoto didn't respond right away. "Give it back!" he complained, trying desperately to reach him but Makoto avoided his attacks as his eyes scanned the page, his expression changing with every word. His pupils widened, mouth parting slightly.

"Dude..." he breathed, almost reverently as he read the last word.

Ukai's pulse quickened. "What? What is it?" he pressed, voice lowering as a strange sort of dread crept into his chest. He searched Makoto's eyes, hoping for some indication.

Makoto slowly raised his gaze, the letter trembling slightly in his hands. "I think.. I think it's a love letter."

Ukai's breath caught. "W-What?! To who?! Let me see it!"

He reached for the sheet of paper in a sudden burst, heart hammering in his chest with an urgency he hadn't expected. But Makoto leaned back, lifting the letter out of reach.

"No wait! Bro, it's already bad enough I read it. I don't think we should dig deeper into Y/n's privacy—"

"Huh?!" Ukai hissed, his voice teetering on the edge of desperation. "How can you say that after what you just told me?! I need to know!"

Makoto raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "Why?"

Ukai's face contorted, the words tumbling out too quickly. "Because— well... because I'm her best friend and I should know who she has feelings for... you know... to help her or whatever. Just give it to me!" His hand shot out but Makoto stepped back.

He didn't say anything. He just looked at Ukai with an unimpressed look, his silence heavier than any comment.

Ukai faltered, his face heating up. "I need to read it because I'm her best friend," he repeated, this time more quietly, more unsure.

"Yeah, you said that already," Makoto responded dryly.

Ukai scoffed in frustration. "Whatever! Give me that!"

He lunged forward again, but Makoto expertly leaned further back. The letter remained just out of reach.

"Makoto, give it!" Ukai demanded, tension coiling in his jaw, but Makoto shook his head firmly.

With a deep exhale, Ukai ground his teeth and tried to reign in his impatience. "Fine. If you won't let me read it, at least tell me who it's about."

Makoto hesitated, clearly torn. Ukai leaned in slightly, eyes pleading. "Bro, come on."

Makoto finally sighed. "I don't know."

Ukai's brows drew together. "What do you mean you don't know?"

"I mean," Makoto repeated, shrugging helplessly, "I don't know. There are no names. Or at least... no full names."

That only made Ukai's curiosity blaze hotter. "What do you mean?"

Makoto lifted the page again, careful now. "It's only addressed to a 'K'. No name. Just a letter."

Ukai stared at him, then at the letter, then back. A 'K'? His heart skipped.

"Okay, let me see that—" he started again, moving forward with purpose.

"Nope," Makoto countered, pulling the letter back again.

Ukai groaned in exasperation, scanning for any angle, any excuse. Then suddenly, he pointed behind Makoto, eyes widening dramatically. "Oh my god, what's that?!"

Makoto's head snapped around. "What? What?!"

In a flash, Ukai snatched the letter from his hand.

"Damn it," Makoto groaned, realizing too late he'd been tricked. Ukai was already scanning the words, eyes darting across the page like a man starving for answers.

"To K,

I don't know when it started—maybe it was during those long, quiet moments between matches or those late afternoons when the sun filtered through the windows of the school and you laughed at my terrible jokes for the millionth time by now. Maybe it was the way you always acted like you didn't care, but remembered the smallest details. Or maybe it was just you, being you and I finally realised how special you'd always been.

Sometimes I wish things were simpler. That I could tell you, or at least that I had the courage to actually say something out loud instead of scribbling it down in hidden corners of my notebook but I know it's not possible.

I'm sure a lot of girls would kill to be in my place already but I'm not satisfied. Maybe I'm selfish. Maybe I should be happy with what I already have. I'm lying everyday, sometimes even to myself because I have no other choices. So for now, this letter is the only place I can admit it without fear.

I like you—more than I probably should. You're sharp, driven, amazing and obviously very funny or I wouldn't be your friend but what I really admire about you is how you somehow always manage to pull others together, or restore confidence in a matter of seconds. You've helped me so much already. It's frustrating. It's inspiring. It's... a lot.

I wonder if you even know how often I can't seem to take my eyes off you,  how often you cross my mind,  especially during those days we train separately, the days I can't see you. You're on the other side, on the boy's team and I can't join you while all those girls watch you admiringly. I pretend I don't care. I do. Too much, maybe.

Anyway, this probably sounds silly. Just needed to write it down. Maybe one day, I'll be able to tell you how I feel without the fear of ruining everything."

Ukai's voice came out as barely a breath, caught somewhere between disbelief and quiet devastation. "Oh my god..."

Makoto, standing just beside him, winced and rubbed the back of his neck, his expression caught between guilt and frustration. "I told you, bro. You shouldn't have read it. I mean, this letter is obviously meant for yo—"

"Kaito..." Ukai cut in, his voice flat, low, almost distant.

Makoto paused mid-sentence, blinking in confusion. "What?"

Ukai's eyes were locked on the letter, the piece of paper trembling slightly between his fingers. His brows furrowed in a storm of sadness, confusion, and something bitterer beneath the surface. "I knew it... I knew there was something. Damn it."

Makoto took a step closer, concern etched into his features. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Ukai let out a sharp breath, lifting the letter in the air like it was the damning piece of evidence in a trial he had tried to avoid. "This letter, it's obviously meant for Kaito. The 'K' is for Kaito."

"Dude, I don't think—" Makoto started, but Ukai shook his head, cutting him off again.

"Who else could it be for?!" he snapped, his voice a hushed whisper-shout, thick with frustration. "She keeps going on and on about how girls would kill to be in her position, and I only know one guy who has a literal fan club following him around. Kaito. Always god damn Kaito."

Makoto lifted his hands in defense, trying to calm the rising storm. "Wait, I think you're jumping to—"

But Ukai was no longer listening. His thoughts spiraled faster than he could control. "And who else could it be when she writes about how frustrating it is not being able to play with him every day? He's on the boys' team, 'the other side' as she called it."

Makoto reached out and laid a steadying hand on Ukai's shoulder. "Okay, listen. I think you need to calm down. You're making assumptions. You don't know for sure who this letter is meant for."

Ukai's gaze dropped to the ground, his jaw tight with tension. "I don't see anyone else. Didn't you see how close they were before?"

Makoto sighed deeply, his voice gentler this time. "All I'm saying is, you're not thinking straight right now. Let's just play the match, clear your head, and figure this out after."

Ukai didn't respond immediately. He stared down at the letter in his hands, the inked words blurring slightly as the sting in his eyes threatened to rise. But before he could find the strength to agree or protest, a voice pierced through the fog.

"What are you guys doing?!"

Your voice came sharp, nervous, full of panic. You approached quickly, your steps unsteady and rushed. Makoto and Ukai turned to you like they'd been caught with their hands in a sacred vault.

"N-Nothing!!" they both blurted out in unison, their voices a clear giveaway that something had gone terribly wrong.

Your eyes landed on the paper clutched in Ukai's hands and your heart sank into the pit of your stomach. "Oh my god... don't tell me—please tell me you didn't read that letter." Your voice cracked as you said it, eyes wide, body trembling. Your gaze settled on Ukai, who still stood frozen, the letter in his grip.

"I-I... w-well..." he stammered, his guilt painted all over his face.

Makoto took a breath and stood. "I-uh... I think I'll leave you two alone," he said quickly before making a swift exit, disappearing toward the rest of the team.

Ukai stayed rooted in place, still holding the letter, his shoulders hunched and his expression unreadable. The silence between you felt like a chasm neither of you could leap over. Neither of you could look the other in the eye.

How had this happened? How had something so private fallen into the hands of the one person you were most afraid of seeing it? He wasn't supposed to know. He wasn't supposed to see it. He was never supposed to read it. And now everything was ruined.

You had ruined everything all because you couldn't hide a stupid letter. Damn it, you shouldn't have listened to Chiyo.

You couldn't breathe. Your fingers curled at your sides as your eyes watered. This was your best friend. This was Ukai. And now he knew. And worse—he was quiet. Too quiet.

"I-I..." He looked up at you, his expression torn between a smile and something heartbreakingly distant.

"You weren't supposed to read that," you whispered, each word coated in shame and panic.

Ukai blinked slowly, then nodded. "I know, I'm sorry. I just—"

"You weren't supposed to see..." You muttered, the panic worsening.

Ukai's heart clenched. "I didn't mean to. I-I..." His voice trailed off, his usual confidence nowhere to be found. The words wouldn't come out but even if they did, what was the point? He had seen it anyway. He lowered his head and closed his eyes for a second to calm to beat of his heat. After a moment, he drew in a breath that seemed to steel him.

"Do you really like him..?"

You froze, confusion flickered across your face. "What?"

His eyes didn't meet yours. "Kaito. That's what the 'K' stands for, right? Do you really like him?"

"I-I.." Your mouth parted, but no words came out. 

Ukai's eyes flickered with something unreadable and watched as he nodded rapidly a few times. "I guess that answers my question.."

And then, as if the world had been waiting for the worst moment possible, the shrill sound of a whistle echoed across the court.

"Everyone in position! The match is starting!" Nekomata shouted.

Ukai turned his head toward the court, then glanced back at you.

"I-uh... I gotta go." He cleared his throat. "I guess I'll- uhm... see you at dinner," He turned before you could say anything, his feet carrying him away with more urgency than he meant to show.

You stood there, the letter clutched tightly in your trembling hands, heart pounding in the hollow echo of what had just happened.

"Fuck..." You whispered as you buried your face in the letter.

***

 

Chapter 34: Dinner

Chapter Text

Nekomata stood in the kitchen, his broad frame positioned in front of the stove, the rhythmic sizzle of oil and the clinking of utensils a steady hum beneath the quiet tension that lingered in the air. The comforting scent of soy sauce, mirin, and freshly steamed rice drifted through the warm space, but it did little to soften the awkward chill that had settled between you and Ukai.

You sat at the dining table, spine rigid, your hands busying themselves with your chopsticks, twirling and tapping them together in small, nervous movements. Ukai sat beside you, his posture relaxed in theory, but his gaze was far away, locked somewhere in the space beyond the far wall. His eyes didn't blink much, his thoughts clearly tangled in something far removed from the meal or the conversation around him.

It had been like this ever since he read the letter. That stupid letter. Even the high of victory against Nekoma earlier that day hadn't lifted the weight hanging between you. The win, even in a practice match, should have been a cause for celebration. And yet, the silence between you two was louder than any cheer from the court.

At the far end of the table, Ikkei sat with a journal open in his hands, appearing engrossed in its contents, but his subtle glances over the rim of his glasses betrayed his curiosity. He looked up now and then, frowning slightly as his eyes darted between you and his grandson, as if trying to understand what had gone wrong. More than once, his confused gaze flicked to Nekomata at the stove. The old coach would catch the glance and merely shrug, his expression unreadable but equally aware that something was off.

You felt your stomach churn. The pit of nerves settled there only grew as your fidgeting became more frantic. You couldn't focus on the smell of the food, or the pleasant crackling of fried karaage in the pan, or the familiar clatter of Nekomata working his culinary magic. Your heart was too busy stumbling over itself.

Ukai knew you had a crush.

Worse, he thought you had a crush on Kaito Hinode. A smug, talented, insufferable setter who happened to be Ukai's direct rival. It was, quite literally, the worst possible person he could believe you had feelings for.

And you couldn't even deny it. Because denying would mean telling him the truth. That the letter wasn't about Kaito. That it was about him. And that was impossible. That kind of truth could unravel everything.

Your friendship—years of teasing, training, growing, depending on each other— wouldn't survive that kind of confession. You knew him. Knew how he would react. Or rather, how he wouldn't. He'd clammed up. He'd laugh it off. He'd go cold. He'd drift away, and you'd be left with nothing.

So instead, you let him believe the lie. The ridiculous, agonizing lie.

You groaned internally, head throbbing with the weight of it all. The worst part? You hated Kaito so much and he idea that Ukai thought you were into him? It made your skin crawl. Your jaw clenched, irritation blooming inside you, directed mostly at yourself. How could you have let this happen? Why didn't you hide that stupid letter somewhere else? Or better—why did you write it at all? You shouldn't have listened to Chiyo.

You sighed, your chopsticks clicking in your fingers again.

"Y/n, stop fidgeting with your chopsticks already. You're stressing me out," Ikkei muttered without looking up from his journal, though the tone was unmistakably annoyed.

You blinked, caught off guard, and quickly placed them down with a soft clatter. "Sorry..."

He gave a noncommittal hum and returned to his reading.

Across the room, Nekomata turned around, wiping his hands on a towel draped over his shoulder. His smile was easy, cheerful even, a deliberate contrast to the weighted silence in the room.

"Say, you and your team were pretty good tonight, Keishin," he said as he leaned on the back of a chair with one arm. "It pains me to admit it, but you deserved that win."

Ukai lifted his gaze, his expression briefly thawing. "Oh yeah? What new strategies do you have planned for tomorrow? I wanna learn from the best."

Nekomata chuckled, shaking his head. "You think I'm gonna fall for that?"

Ukai gave a one-shouldered shrug, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Worth a shot."

"Please," Nekomata scoffed, his tone light. "I wasn't born yesterday, Keishin. I've got the wrinkles to prove it."

He turned back toward the stove and began transferring dishes onto a large serving tray. Soon, he returned to the table and began placing dish after dish in front of you. The table filled with warm, hearty food—a simple yet nourishing spread typical for a match day evening.

There were bowls of gyudon with sweet soy-marinated beef and onions over rice, miso soup steaming gently with tofu and wakame, golden chicken karaage, crisp and tender, a platter of freshly rolled tamagoyaki, and small side dishes of pickled vegetables, edamame, and chilled tofu with scallions and grated ginger.

Everything about the meal should have felt comforting. But as the steam rose between you and Ukai, so did the silence. And yet, no one said a word.

"You know you both need to feed yourselves well if you want to perform tomorrow," Nekomata said, his voice calm but firm as he leaned slightly on the back of the chair, his eyes scanning the table. Then, with a smile curling at the edge of his lips, his gaze settled on you. "Especially you, Y/n."

You blinked a few times, pulled from the whirlpool of your thoughts. Your fingers, which had unconsciously returned to fiddling with your chopsticks, stilled. You looked up, puzzled, meeting his gentle but expectant gaze. "What?" you asked, your voice a little dazed. "Isn't the big match of the camp Nekoma against Karasuno? It's the only one being televised." you asked, trying to piece together why he was singling you out.

He nodded slowly, his expression never shifting. "Sure," he said, as he moved around the table and sat down, resting one arm against the tabletop. "but that's not all."

He gave you a pointed look, and something in his tone made your heartbeat stutter. He folded his hands calmly before him, his voice lowering in a way that made everyone at the table instinctively tune in. "Don't you remember I said I had some news?"

You tilted your head slightly. Oh god. With everything that had happened with Keishin—the letter, the awkwardness, the silence so loud it filled every breath—it had completely slipped your mind.

Ukai shifted beside you, his gaze flickering between you and Nekomata, sensing the shift in the room. He said nothing, but you could feel the tension coil subtly in his shoulders.

"Well," Nekomata continued, a light spark in his eye, "your team will be playing a few practice matches with different schools tomorrow. Nothing too official, but... people are free to come and watch. And I was informed that recruiters—from America, no less—will be in the mix."

Your breath caught.

"They're searching for young talent to offer scholarships to. Scholarships to train and compete in the U.S. They're looking to mold future professionals," he said, leaning in slightly, his smile widening. "And I heard that they already have their eyes on you."

The room tilted.

"Tomorrow, while you play, they will observe. They'll decide whether or not to offer you a full athletic scholarship to train and grow into a professional volleyball player in a university in the United States!"

Your eyes widened in shock. "What..? Are you— I-I... Are you serious right now?" You struggled to say.

Ukai's head turned to you, his eyes and mouth wide unable to say anything.

Nekomata chuckled lightly, his gaze still on you. "I am! Isn't this amazing, Y/n? Everything you've worked so hard for is finally opening into something real. This is a golden opportunity. I'm so proud of you, my little kitten."

He rose from his chair with a fond smile and walked over to you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders in a brief but warm hug. His scent—that familiar, comforting smell of soap and warm rice and years of gym halls—surrounded you.

But you didn't move. Didn't hug back. You just sat there, eyes still wide, breath shallow. A scholarship... to America? The first real step to becoming a professional volleyball player? That was everything you'd dreamed of. It should have sent you over the moon.

And yet...

Why weren't you as excited as you were supposed to be?

Nekomata stepped back slowly, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied your face. "Is something wrong?" he asked, concern just starting to color his voice.

You blinked again, trying to summon a smile, trying to breathe through the knot forming in your chest. "N-No, no, of course not! I just... This is a lot to take in, I mean...wow.."

Your breathing quickened, and with it, so did your heartbeat. It was a lot. A tidal wave of possibility crashing down all at once. An opportunity that couldn't be refused. An expectation that couldn't be failed. It would affect your entire future.

You had to accept. Had to rise to the occasion.

Even if, deep down, something wasn't matching the elation you were supposed to feel. Why weren't you excited for this?

"Oh my god," you whispered. "And you said they would be here tomorrow? But I-I'm not ready! What if I play badly? What if we lose? What if—"

"Would you stop this useless nervous blather? I can't focus on my reading," Ikkei cut in from across the table, his gruff tone not particularly sympathetic.

"Come on, old man. At least have some compassion for once," Nekomata sighed and gave you a small, reassuring smile. He turned back toward you. "But he's not wrong. It's pointless to spiral when you don't need to. You're already a wonderful player. You won't magically become bad tomorrow. I guarantee it."

You tried to absorb his comfort, but the panic still buzzed beneath your skin.

"But what if..." You started again, but your words caught in your throat as your gaze flicked toward Ukai.

He was quiet. Too quiet. His eyes weren't on you, not even on the food in front of him. They were fixed somewhere far away, his jaw tense.

What if you didn't want to leave Japan?

"Look," Nekomata said gently, as if sensing something deeper, "I know it's a lot, sweetie. But I thought it would be better to tell you now rather than keep you in the dark. Even if it adds pressure, it gives you the chance to give it your all tomorrow. You don't have anything to worry about. I know you'll shine."

You nodded faintly, your thoughts still scattered. "You're right. I'm probably worrying for nothing." You lifted your gaze to look at your grandpa with a faint smile. "This is... truly amazing. I can't believe this is real."

"I know, but it is! And I have no doubts that you're going to crush it!" He smiled and you nodded. "That's my little kitten!" he said, giving your head a gentle pat. Then he clapped his hands once. "Now, come on! The food is getting cold. Let's eat!"

He moved back to his seat with ease.

"Finally," Ikkei muttered as he folded his paper and began piling food onto his plate. You followed suit, hunger creeping in beneath the tension. You reached for a bowl of rice and a piece of karaage, mechanically filling your plate.

And yet, even as you moved, your thoughts swirled elsewhere. Distant. Tangled. You couldn't focus on anything, your mind racing with anxiety.

Meanwhile, Ukai had stayed quiet the entire time, his mind too busy racing to even eat. His chopsticks hadn't moved from where he set them minutes ago, resting against the edge of his plate. The food sat untouched, going cold in front of him, but he barely registered it. His gaze kept drifting—to the grains of rice, to his clenched fingers, to you sitting across the table, and back again. But no words were coming.

The table was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of silence that hummed like static beneath the surface, swollen with all the things that hadn't been said.

A scholarship?

You, leaving for America? Just like that? Out of nowhere?

His stomach churned, but not with hunger. It was something tighter. Hotter. Something he couldn't name that made it impossible to breathe properly. He could still hear Nekomata's voice echoing in his head, soft and proud. "They already have their eyes on you."

He squeezed his eyes shut for just a second.

You hadn't known either. He could see that now. The shock on your face had been real. You were just as blindsided. And yet...

He glanced at you again, at the way your fingers nervously twisted together in your lap, the way you chewed at your lip as you tried to smile through it all. He knew you. Knew how badly you wanted this. To go pro. To be seen. To be good enough to chase something bigger.

And you were. You were good enough. That was the part that hurt the most.

Of course they wanted you. Of course they saw it. The same thing he'd seen in you years ago.

But if they saw it now—if they came with papers and offers and promises of pro leagues and better futures—

What was he supposed to do then?

He would stay. He would keep playing. Keep training. Keep doing what he always did until high school would be over.

And you—

You would go.

Because how could you not? This was everything you had worked for. Everything you'd whispered about in tired gym halls, everything you trained toward when no one else was watching. All those years of pushing and fighting and striving for more.

And yet...

Why did it feel like his chest was cracking?

He wanted to be happy for you. He really, truly did. But every time he tried to smile, it came out brittle and wrong. Every cheer in his throat turned bitter before it could reach his mouth.

He didn't even understand why it hurt so much. You were his best friend. His training partner. His teammate. His...

But that wasn't right. You weren't his. Not like that. You had never been his to begin with. And it wouldn't hurt as much if it weren't for him.

Kaito Hinode.

His jaw twitched. His name alone was enough to make Ukai angry. He knew now that you liked him because he just had to read that damn letter. He hadn't wanted to. He wished he hadn't. But now it was carved into his mind like a scar.

K.

So you had a crush on the golden boy of Nekoma, and now you might be getting scouted to play halfway across the world. What was he supposed to do with that?

Sit here and smile? Pretend everything was fine? Pretend like things weren't going to change between you two?

How long had you been hiding this from him? Were you even planning to tell him one day? Why had you kept it a secret? Weren't the two of you supposed to tell each other everything? You weren't even gone yet and it already felt like you were actively getting away from him.

He looked down again, eyes tired, the room hot around him. He hadn't said a word. Not one. And yet he felt more exhausted than he had after the entire match.

You were still right there. Close enough to touch. And yet, already so far. Far from him.

The clinking of utensils against ceramic was the only sound filling the tense silence around the dinner table. Bowls of half-eaten rice and trays of still-steaming dishes sat between them, the weight of unspoken thoughts pressing down harder than ever. Then, as if slicing through the air with a butter knife, Ikkei cleared his throat and spoke up, his voice muffled by the food in his mouth.

"So, Y/n," he said, his tone dry but not without a hint of amusement, "excited to leave us and explore the world? I know I would be. In fact, I'd love to leave all of you right now if I could."

You let out a nervous, breathy laugh, unsure whether to be amused or concerned. Across the table, Nekomata chuckled, shaking his head. "As sweet as ever, I see."

Your fingers fidgeted with your chopsticks, eyes darting toward your untouched food. "I mean... I just got the news," you started, voice low and uncertain. "We're not even sure I'm going to get this scholarship—"

"Nonsense," Ikkei interrupted without missing a beat. "You've been trained by me and your grandpa. You're going to get it."

You nodded slowly, eyes still downcast. "Right, right... well, I guess, I haven't really thought about it..."

Ikkei lifted an eyebrow, squinting slightly at you. "Haven't thought about it? Y/n, you've been training for years for this exact opportunity. That's all you've thought about."

His words hit harder than you'd expected, and you blinked, caught off guard by their weight. "You're right, I just... well, yes, I've thought about it."

You picked up a piece of karaage and slowly placed it back down, suddenly disinterested. Ikkei wasn't done.

"And? Aren't you excited?" he asked bluntly, his gaze studying you with unrelenting sharpness.

You hesitated, your gaze flickering instinctively toward Keishin. He hadn't said a word in what felt like forever. His eyes were distant, shoulders tense. Something in your chest squeezed.

You swallowed and forced a smile. "So excited," you said, your voice thin and unconvincing.

"Good. That's good." Ikkei said plainly. "You'll thrive in the United States, I guarantee it."

You opened your mouth, but before a single word could leave it, the sharp screech of a chair leg scraping harshly against the floor ripped through the room.

All heads turned.

Ukai stood stiffly, hands still pressed to the edge of the table. His head was bowed, his blonde hair falling forward to obscure his face.

"Keishin, what are you—" Nekomata began, voice laced with concern.

"I'm not hungry anymore. Can I go to my room?" Ukai cut in, his tone flat but brittle, like a string pulled too tight.

Nekomata glanced toward Ikkei, who remained unbothered, focused on his meal as if none of it surprised him.

"Sure. Go," he said simply.

Ukai didn't wait for more. "Thank you for the food, Yasufumi," he mumbled, turning sharply on his heel. His footsteps were heavy, almost hurried, as he exited the room without another glance back.

Your eyes followed him, heart thudding. Something was wrong. He'd been acting strange all night—withdrawn, silent, tense. But this? This felt like more.

"He's been acting weird all night. I wonder what's going on with him," Nekomata muttered, breaking the silence with a furrowed brow. "Did something happen, y/n?" He asked, making you slightly jump on your seat.

"I-uh.. I'm not sure—"

Ikkei scoffed, piling another spoonful of meat into his bowl. "Isn't it obvious, Yasufumi? The boy's jealous, that's what. He's surprisingly good at coaching others, but in terms of playing? He's mediocre at best."

"Ikkei, come on. Don't be mean," Nekomata chided, but Ikkei only shrugged.

"What? I'm just telling the truth. It's normal for a boy his age to feel jealous when his friend is a hundred times better than him at the same sport. Especially when it's a girl."

Nekomata frowned. "Okay, now you're just being sexist."

"Call me what you want," Ikkei retorted, unbothered. "I'm just stating the facts. The boy can't stand the idea that Y/n could be offered a scholarship and leave soon to become a professional while he stays here."

You stood abruptly, fists clenched at your sides.

"That's enough," you said, your voice low but firm. Both men blinked at you in surprise. "I'm going to talk to him," you added before either of them could respond, pushing your chair back and stepping out from the table.

Nekomata reached out slightly, as if to stop you, but let his hand drop. He watched you leave, his expression unreadable.

Once the door clicked shut behind you, he turned to Ikkei with a disapproving look.

"What?" Ikkei asked, unbothered.

"You just can't shut up, can you?" Nekomata sighed.

"Hey, it's not my fault the kids of this generation are so sensitive. You have to be strict and honest to make them stronger. Keishin isn't good at volleyball, and I tell him. More than half of the boys on my team were atrocious when I started with them, and now look where they are now! All thanks to me."

"And Y/n too, I heard," Nekomata added dryly.

"Yeah, yeah—but mostly me," Ikkei said proudly as he returned to his food.

Nekomata just shook his head, his eyes lingering on the door you'd just passed through for a moment longer.

You walked slowly down the narrow hallway, the soft creak of the old wooden floorboards beneath your socks echoing in the quiet. The lights were dim, most of the other guests already tucked in for the night after the emotionally charged dinner. Your footsteps felt heavier than usual, each step weighed down with something unspeakable—anxiety, guilt, and a sense of urgency that pressed tight against your chest.

You stopped in front of the guest room door. It was one of the smaller ones at the end of the hallway—the one Ukai was sharing with his grandfather during the camp. Your hand hovered in a loose fist above the dark wood, knuckles pale with hesitation. The silence behind it was thick, pressing against your skin like a warning.

You loved Keishin's grandpa—truly, you did. But sometimes, the old man could be so harsh, so blunt in the way he tore down Keishin with words that cut deeper than he realized. Listening to him tonight had made your blood boil. He was wrong. Ukai hadn't stormed off because he was bitter or petty. That wasn't what this was about—you knew it.

With a quiet, steadying breath, you knocked. Once. Twice. The sound barely echoed before silence swallowed it whole. No response.

"It's me..." you said softly, your voice a little unsure, like it might shatter the moment it reached the other side.

You waited a second longer before slowly easing the door open.

The room inside was dark, save for the pale light of the moon spilling through the half-parted curtains. A faint breeze drifted in from the balcony, and the long curtains swayed gently like ghosts of breath. Shadows danced softly along the floorboards, tracing patterns on the walls.

There he was.

Keishin sat on the narrow balcony ledge, one knee pulled up with his arm resting lazily over it, the other leg stretched out. His posture looked relaxed to anyone else—but you knew better. His shoulders were too still. His gaze too fixed on the city lights beyond the trees.

You paused at the threshold, watching him for a beat longer, before finally stepping onto the cool balcony tiles.

"Hey," you said gently, trying to keep your voice soft, unobtrusive. "Mind if I join you?"

He didn't answer. Didn't nod. But he didn't stop you either.

You eased down beside him, close but not quite touching, careful to give him space. The air was crisp out here, and the city hummed quietly in the distance—cars far below, life moving on as if nothing had happened.

You let the silence sit between you for a moment.

Then, lightly: "So... you ready to wipe the floor with Nekoma tomorrow? I'm sure it'll be no problem after how you wrecked them earlier."

He didn't laugh. Didn't even flinch. Just stared out across the city like you hadn't spoken.

"Sure," he said at last, flatly. The word sounded like it didn't belong to him.

You swallowed, your smile fading. That wasn't the Ukai you knew. Not even close.

You nudged him lightly with your elbow, hoping for even a flicker of amusement. "Come on. Not even a cocky smirk? That's not like you. You never pass up a chance to brag about beating Nekoma."

"Guess I'm tired," he murmured.

You both fell quiet again, the weight between you only growing heavier. Your chest ached.

"You've been quiet ever since... well, earlier," you ventured, voice cautious. "Are you okay?"

Still, no response. You turned toward him slightly.

"Is this about the letter?" you asked, hesitant, searching for his eyes. "Look, you weren't supposed to read that. I get that you're upset, but I just—"

"Just what?" he snapped suddenly, turning to you with a sharpness that made your breath catch. "You would have rather continued keeping it secret from me?"

His tone wasn't loud, but it was laced with something much sharper: disappointment. Hurt.

He shifted slightly toward you, his eyes catching the silver of moonlight. "We promised we wouldn't keep things from each other. No secrets, remember? No bullshit. Does that mean nothing to you anymore?"

Your throat tightened. "W-What? No! Of course it still means something."

"Then answer me this," he said, crossing his arms. "If I hadn't found it, would you have ever told me?"

Your mouth opened, but the words failed you. You stammered. "I-I..."

The silence between you said enough.

He let out a bitter sigh and looked away. "I guess not."

You reached for something—an apology, a defense—but before you could speak, his expression twisted into something angrier.

"I guess you would've just let me find out after you were already with that... that asshole."

You blinked, thrown. "Okay, I get that you're upset I didn't tell you. But are you seriously mad about this? About who you think it is?"

He shook his head, scoffing. "Not specifically. But come on, Y/n. Kaito? Really? Out of all the people around, you pick him? The most egotistical, selfish, smug guy to exist? The same guy who flirts with anything that moves and thinks he's god's gift to volleyball?"

His voice was rising now, laced with venom.

"You're smarter than that. And yet you're walking straight into it like he actually gives a damn about you beyond getting what he wants.  If you think different, you're not. You're just the next distraction until he gets bored and moves on."

You recoiled, your expression twisting in confusion and rising anger. "Okay, hold on. Is this still about me not telling you, or are you just trying to tear me down now? Because this—this feels personal."

"I'm not attacking you," he said through gritted teeth. "I'm just pointing out your blind spots."

You crossed your arms tightly. "Well, I don't remember asking for your opinion."

That hit him harder than expected. His eyes narrowed. "Oh, so now my opinion doesn't matter to you anymore?"

"Not when you're clearly being cruel for no reason!"

His mouth opened, stunned by your outburst. You could see it in his face—he hadn't even realized how much venom was in his words.

Then, quieter but still bitter, he muttered, "Well, excuse me for not wanting to ruin your perfect crush, with your perfect future, and your perfect little life."

Your breath caught. That didn't sound like anger. It sounded like pain.

"Wait..." you said slowly, your voice losing its sharpness, "Are you— are you mad about the scholarship? Is that why you left dinner like that?"

You stared at him, almost in disbelief. Could Ikkei have been right after all?

He let out a sharp breath, part frustration, part surrender—a sharp exhale that cut through the thick night air like a blade. Half a scoff, half a sigh. "I just didn't feel like sitting there and listening to everyone act like your whole life is already written."

The words hung there, suspended in the air between you.

Your brows knit together in confusion, trying to understand where this bitterness was coming from. "What does that mean?"

Finally, he turned to look at you. The moonlight lit the side of his face, outlining his cheekbone and the furrow of his brow, but the rest remained in shadow. There was something in his eyes—tight, distant, unreadable.

"They talk like it's done," he said quietly. "Like you're already gone." He turned his head away again, voice barely audible as he mumbled, "And maybe you are."

That made something in your chest twist.

"I just found out about it, same as you. I haven't decided anything," you said, your voice careful, measured.

"Yeah, well... you didn't exactly look undecided," he replied, his words edged with something sharper now.

You blinked, a little stunned by the accusation. "Excuse me?"

He pushed off the railing, arms falling to his sides, the movement sudden and tense. His feet shifted restlessly on the tiled floor, his body buzzing with agitation he couldn't name.

"Why are you surprised? Of course you're decided. And hey, why wouldn't you be? It's America. It's pro leagues. It's everything you've ever wanted." He laughed, but it lacked any humor.

You stared at him, trying to make sense of the storm behind his words. "Are you seriously mad at me for being excited about a scholarship I didn't even know I was being considered for?" you asked, incredulous.

"No, I'm not mad," he said quickly, too quickly. Then, with less conviction, "I just—" He trailed off, his hands opening helplessly, searching for the right words that just wouldn't come. His mouth moved, but nothing made it out. His brain was in chaos. He didn't know. Why was he so upset?

"What?" you pressed gently, your voice softer now. "Just what?"

He faltered. Ran a hand across his head, the gesture rough and desperate. "I don't know. Forget it." He leaned back against the railing, his head tilted up as if searching the stars for some kind of clarity.

You crossed your arms over your chest. "No. Say it. Because right now it sounds like you're pissed that I'm getting a chance at something real."

His eyes snapped back to yours, dark and intense. "Well, maybe I am." He blurted out.

You froze. The words sliced through you faster than you could brace for. That wasn't sarcasm. That wasn't deflection. That was honest. And that made it worse.

You stared at him, eyes stinging. You knew Keishin. You knew his temper, his bluntness. You'd seen him angry, you'd seen him annoyed, you'd seen him in all his facets. But this? This wasn't frustration. This was different. This felt like something deeper, something more personal. Why was he acting like this all of a sudden Shouldn't he be happy for you?

You swallowed thickly, trying to keep your voice even. "Wow. So that's it, huh? You can't be happy for me because you're too busy keeping score?" You hated how your voice trembled. Hated how your chest felt too tight to breathe. But more than anything, you hated the silence that followed.

"That's not what I'm saying—"

"No, I think it's exactly what you're saying," you snapped, not even meaning to, the hurt pouring out now. Your fists clenched at your sides. "I thought you'd be proud. I thought..." Your voice slightly broke, the tears threatening to spill. "I don't know what I thought..."

He didn't answer but his eyes flickered with something unreadable.

The silence stretched again, unbearable now. You let out a breath that shook as it left you. "You know what? I can't do this anymore. I'm too tired for this shit." You turned your head away, blinking hard against the sting behind your eyes.

Something shifted in Ukai—his stance softened, guilt flickering in his expression as he saw the way your shoulders curled inward, how hard you were trying not to cry. His breath caught.

"W-Wait, I—"

"Stop," you said quickly, holding a hand up without turning. "I don't want to hear it." You were already moving back inside the room, steps quick and rigid. "I need to get some sleep if I want to perform well tomorrow."

The door closed behind you with a muted click.

Ukai stood frozen in place, his eyes stuck on the door you'd just walked through. The moonlight spilled across the tiles like spilled milk, glowing and useless. His chest rose and fell in a ragged rhythm. He didn't know how long he stood there but it had felt like forever before his hands curled  into fists and rose to press hard against his face.

"What the fuck did I just do?!" he whispered harshly into his palms, voice cracking with the weight of it. His knees buckled, and he sank down against the wall, collapsing onto the floor with a thud that echoed only in his own ears.

His body trembled.

He had ruined it.

The night. The conversation. Maybe even you.

He'd let his anger run wild. He'd let it twist the ache in his chest into sharp edges and thrown them carelessly at you. What would you do now? Run to Kaito? Probably. Why wouldn't you after how he'd treated you. So much for a best friend.

Ukai let out a bitter laugh, low and humorless.

How dare he call Kaito an asshole when he was being no better right now?

He hadn't meant any of it. He hadn't meant to make you cry. He hadn't meant to sound like he didn't believe in you. The truth was, he did. More than anyone.

He had always believed in you.

So why had he done that? Why had he lashed out at you like that? Over a scholarship? Over Kaito?

It didn't make sense. None of it did.

He pressed his hand on forehead, pressing hard at his scalp like it might force some kind of answer out.

It wasn't about volleyball. Not really. He didn't even want to go pro. He'd never wanted the spotlight. That was your dream. It had always been your dream. He'd trained beside you, fought for it beside you, motivated you when you'd wanted to abandon.

So why did it burn so badly to watch you get closer to it? Why did it feel like he was losing something?

He didn't understand. All he knew was that the more he watched you pull ahead, the more it felt like you were pulling away. And maybe you weren't. Maybe you hadn't meant to. But it still felt like it. And maybe that was worse.

His chest rose and fell, breath shaking now. His fists loosened. He didn't have the answers. He didn't even know the right questions. But something was breaking. And he was scared. And he didn't know how to fix it.

"Fuck..." He sighed as he got up again and turned towards the lighted city, the light and cool breeze of the night calming his thoughts. He'd been a complete asshole with you tonight. Maybe he didn't know how to fix it but he knew where to start.

Tomorrow, first thing in the morning, he'd apologize to you. Hopefully, you'd forgive him even if he wasn't sure he deserved it right now.

***

Chapter 35: Sabotage

Chapter Text

The crowd roared, louder than usual, a restless sea of voices rising and falling with every play. Hundreds had packed into the gym, filling every row of bleachers, pressed shoulder to shoulder along the walls, the air thick with excitement and summer heat. It wasn't just another match—it was the one day of the camp that welcomed the public. Schools from all over Japan had gathered, their teams locked in a string of rotating battles meant to showcase talent, growth, strategy. An annual ritual. A rare chance to prove yourself outside of Nationals. And this year, the stakes felt higher... because they were.

Sunlight streamed through the gym windows in high golden beams, casting warm patches on the polished court. The gleam of sweat on players' brows. The sharp squeak of sneakers on varnished wood. The rhythmic thud of the ball. It should have been electrifying.

But Ukai was somewhere else.

He stood on the court, eyes vaguely tracking the ball as it arced overhead, but his head wasn't in the game. Not really. Not today. He was tired—exhausted, really—and not just in body. His muscles felt slow, like his limbs were moving a half-second behind the world, and his eyes burned faintly from lack of sleep. But it wasn't his body that was failing him.

It was the knot in his stomach.

He hadn't slept more than a few hours the night before. His mind had been a whirlwind of replayed arguments and things he wished he'd said differently. Your voice, wounded and sharp, kept cutting into him in memory, your eyes stinging with tears you refused to let fall. You—walking out, leaving him alone on the balcony, the silence echoing in your wake.

He'd woken early, haunted by the thought of seeing you again, unsure how to begin to fix what he'd broken. Still, he'd pulled himself together with sheer will. He was going to apologize. Somehow. Make it right.

But you hadn't been there.

Only Nekomata had been in the kitchen, sipping his miso soup in calm solitude. When Ukai had asked where you were, the answer was blunt: you'd left early. Gone to train. Alone.

His teeth clenched at the memory.

You were angry. Deeply angry. Very probably hurt. And he couldn't blame you. 

"Keishin! Watch out!"

Makoto's voice sliced through his spiraling thoughts, but it was too late. Ukai barely turned his head before the volleyball slammed directly into his face, knocking him backward. He stumbled and hit the floor hard, the gym erupting with a mixture of surprised gasps and a shrill whistle. Another point lost.

Makoto was instantly at his side, crouching down beside him, eyes wide with concern. "Bro, are you okay? What the hell happened?"

Ukai groaned, rubbing at his jaw. "Shit, I don't—I didn't see the ball..."

Makoto offered a hand, helping him up. "You didn't see the ball? Keishin, you've been off all morning. Even during warm ups, you were zoning out. What's going on with you?"

Ukai opened his mouth, but no words came. His chest tightened. Before he could respond, another whistle sounded sharply across the gym.

He turned.

Ikkei stood near the bench, arms folded, eyes blazing. He clapped his hands twice, signaling a timeout.

"Uh-oh..." Ukai winced. "I'm dead," he muttered as he trudged toward the bench, each step heavier than the last. The team huddled, but the space around Ukai felt colder.

"What the hell is wrong with you today, Keishin?!" Ikkei barked the moment he got close. "Can't you see a freakin' ball?!"

Ukai winced under the verbal blow. "I'm sorry, Coach, I—"

"Sorry?! We just lost another point because of you. That's the third one! You're not in sync, not with them, not with the game! You're not even here! So tell me, Keishin, where the hell are you?!"

Ukai lifted his chin. "I'm right here, sir—"

"Well, it sure as hell doesn't look like it."

Ikkei stepped closer, voice rising, anger coloring every word.

"I'm sorry. It won't happen again. I promise," Ukai said, trying to hold his ground.

But Ikkei wasn't budging. "Damn right it won't. Because I'm benching you for the rest of the match."

Ukai's heart dropped. "What?! That's not fair! I wanna play!"

"Well, clearly you don't look like it. I don't care if it's a friendly match. Friendly doesn't mean sloppy. If you're not a hundred percent in, then you're out."

"But—"

"Bench. End of discussion."

Ukai clenched his jaw, fury and embarrassment bubbling under his skin, but he didn't argue again. With a sharp exhale through his nose, he turned and stormed toward the bench.

The whistle blew again, signaling the game's resumption.

Ukai slumped down behind Ikkei, arms folded tightly across his chest, scowling at the court.

Ikkei didn't even glance back. "Think about what you did and get your head back on straight," he said gruffly. "Because I want you in top shape this afternoon when we play Nekoma. You hear me?"

Ukai didn't respond. He didn't trust himself to. He just stared at the court, jaw tight, thoughts tangled. And underneath all the irritation, all the shame, one thought pulsed louder than the rest: 

What were you thinking right now?

He wanted to know. He couldn't stand it any longer and he knew that he wouldn't be able to perform well this afternoon if he didn't go talk to you right now. Discreetly, with the match almost over anyway, he got up from the bench and walked out of the gym. Now, he only had to make it over to yours, where all the girl's matches were being held. 

Hopefully, you'd hear him out and forgive him.

***

The crowd erupted into cheers, a deafening wave that surged from the stands as the ball struck the far edge of the court with a sharp, satisfying smack. Your feet hit the ground hard after your final jump, landing steady despite the fatigue threatening to buckle your knees. For a moment, the gym was caught in a suspended silence—as if the world held its breath.

Then the whistle blew.

The referee's arm extended sharply toward your side of the court.

Point won. Match over.

You remained still, your body heaving with steady breaths, sweat rolling down your temples, stinging your eyes. Around you, your teammates erupted into celebration, arms thrown up, feet stomping in excitement. One after another, they came rushing toward you, grabbing at your shoulders, pulling you into a chorus of cheers and praise.

But you didn't feel present. Not really. Everything moved in slow motion—the sound around you muffled, your vision unfocused.

Your mind was still trapped in last night.

You could still hear Keishin's voice, sharp and cold, his words slicing through you with every syllable. You could still see the storm in his eyes, the twist of his mouth when he said those things—things he probably, or at least you hoped, he didn't mean, but had left marks all the same.

Sleep had been impossible. The moment you'd shut your eyes, the memory would rise again, vivid and cruel. So you'd gotten up before dawn and walked quietly to the gym. Threw yourself into drills. Pushed your body until the ache replaced the heaviness in your chest.

And when the match began, you hadn't just played. You attacked the court.

Your serves cracked through the air like a whip, each one sharper and faster than the last. You moved across the court like a force of nature—unrelenting, furious, and precise. When the ball came near, you didn't hesitate; you pounced, your spikes slamming past the block with enough force to rattle the gym floor. Your blocks were perfectly timed, your receives sharp and strategic. Every point you scored felt like an outlet, a scream you couldn't voice finding form in the rhythm of the match.

The crowd could feel it. Your presence demanded attention. They were cheering, roaring with every point you crushed, each play electrified by your emotion.

Your teammates could feel it too.

"That was amazing, Y/n!" Chiyo, the team's quick-handed setter, shouted beside you, snapping you out of your daze.

"Yeah! You're on fire today!" Izumi, the libero, added, practically bouncing on her heels.

"She's not the only one who scored points," Yuka chimed in, her voice low, tight, barely hiding the edge beneath her words. She offered a clipped smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

You nodded faintly, mumbling a breathless, distracted "Thanks," as you peeled strands of hair off your damp forehead.

The truth was, you were angry. All morning, you'd been a storm waiting to be let out. And the match had been your outlet. You'd funneled everything—the ache, the confusion, the frustration—into your game. And it showed.

But even that hadn't cleared your head.

You needed to focus. The important match—the one that actually counted—was in the afternoon. That was the one the recruiters were watching. You couldn't let yourself fall apart now. No matter what had happened last night. No matter how badly Ukai had hurt you.

You took a steadying breath.

"Good job, girls! I'm so proud of you!" your coach shouted from the sidelines, her voice rich with pride. 

"Thank you, Coach!" your teammates chorused, still glowing with adrenaline as they began to walk off the court.

"Change your shoes quickly. We're heading out for lunch! You need the energy. Big match coming up against the Karasuno girls," she said with a wink. "I don't care what anyone says about the boys' game being more important—this one's our real battle. And we're going to win our dumpster battle!"

Laughter and cheers followed her words as the team filtered off the court, light-footed and high on victory.

You trailed behind, your movements slower, more deliberate. You could feel the weight creeping back in now that the adrenaline had ebbed.

As you stepped off the court and walked into the corridor, a slow clap caught your attention.

Kaito Hinode.

He leaned against the gym wall, arms crossed, still wearing his uniform with the kind of confidence that made it look more like a designer outfit than sports gear. His sharp eyes tracked you as you approached, and when you were close enough, he gave you that signature lopsided grin that he seemed to reserve for moments he deemed worth stealing.

"Kaito!" Yuka ran to him excitedly but he didn't even acknowledge her presence as he opened his mouth.

"Damn, Nekoma's princess really showed teeth today," he said, his voice dripping with smooth charisma. "If you keep playing like that, nobody will even come to watch our match against Karasuno."

Your eyes narrowed, unimpressed by his practiced smiled, too tired and emotionally drained to come up with a witty reply. "What are you doing here, Hinode?"

"Ooh, someone's in a feisty mood. What's gotten into you this morning? Problems in paradise?"

You only sighed, already walking away from him.

"Looks like I hit a nerve," He said, his voice echoing in the corridor but you ignored him.

He watched you walk down the hallway, his eyes never leaving your figure until you were out of sight before he turned and nudged Yuka lightly with his elbow. "You know what to do, Yuka," he said, his tone suddenly serious. 

She nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "O-Of course..." She replied.

"Good," He smiled as he cupped her cheek. "I'll see you soon then,"

Her eyes slightly widened while her cheeks reddened as she nervously nodded before she quickly followed your path down the corridor with Kaito's eyes on her, his smile completely gone.

On your side, you approached the girl's locker room slowly with the same tired expression you'd had since the end of the match. You were about to go through the door when a hand stopped you.

"Hey, Nekomata. You okay?" You coach asked.

You blinked, startled out of your fog. "W-What?"

She nodded toward your face. "You just seem... elsewhere."

You glanced down at your feet, then back up with a strained smile. "Oh, yeah. I'm fine. Just tired, I guess."

She hummed, unconvinced. "I might be just your coach, but I know when one of my girls is carrying something heavier than gear. Is it about the recruiters?"

You lifted your head toward her, your eyes slightly widened. "You know about them?"

She chuckled. "I'm in charge of the girls' team at Nekoma. Of course I know. Recruiters don't move without checking in with me first."

You let out a soft, dry laugh. "Right. Stupid question."

She reached out again and gave your shoulder a light squeeze. "Hey, don't stress, okay? You've been really great so far today. There's no reason you won't be just as good this afternoon. And even if the scholarship doesn't come through—which I seriously doubt—you've got options. This isn't your only shot."

You nodded slowly.

She tilted her head, her voice softening. "But between you and me? You deserve it, more than anyone. I've seen the hours. The effort. The determination. All that hard work's going to pay off."

You looked at her with a small smile. "Thanks, Coach."

She patted your shoulder again. "Now go change those shoes and get ready for some proper lunch. You're going to need every ounce of strength today."

You nodded again, more firmly this time. "Got it."

And with that, you pushed open the door to the locker room, letting the cool air inside greet your flushed face. Behind you, your coach watched for another moment, then turned and walked off, her expression lingering with quiet concern.

You walked the length of the locker room with steady breaths, though each inhale felt heavier than the last. The echo of your steps bounced softly off the tiled walls, mingling with the low hum of the vents and the voices of your teammates talking. Your coach had been right—you had no reason to worry. You'd trained harder than anyone, bled more hours into the gym, committed more than most. This was what you wanted. What you'd worked for.

So why couldn't you feel it?

You came to a stop at your locker, the familiar scuffed metal door in front of you. Your fingers reached for the lock out of habit, twisting it open with ease, but your thoughts were a whirlwind behind your eyes.

You should be excited. You should be filled with adrenaline, anticipation, gratitude. A scholarship for volleyball—a dream come true. But when you'd pictured it in your head all these years, it had always been in Japan. It had always included late-night training with the team you knew, tournament bus rides through the countryside, morning runs with familiar faces—and Keishin.

You clenched your jaw and shook your head lightly, brushing the thought away before it could grow roots.

No. Now wasn't the time.

This was a golden opportunity. The kind that only came once. You couldn't mess it up. Not now. If the recruiters offered you a scholarship, you didn't have to decide anything right away. Your future wasn't written in stone. You could choose later.

But for now, you had a game to play.

One more. Just one more.

And you were going to give it everything you had, even if part of you was still standing on that balcony, aching for words that never came.

You stood still for a long moment, staring blankly into your open locker as the knot in your stomach twisted. It wasn't the match that scared you. It wasn't even the recruiters.

It was everything else.

You turned your head toward the tall window nearby. The sunlight painted a wide golden rectangle across the tiled floor. The warmth touched your shoes, your bag, your skin—but it couldn't touch the questions lingering in your chest.

What was he thinking right now? Would he come find you? Apologize?

Should you go to him?

You shook your head again, sharper this time. No. If he wanted to talk, he could come to you. You weren't going to beg for an apology.

You sat down on the bench and untied your court shoes, slipping into your outside ones with automatic movements. Your sports shoes sat nearby, still warm from use, their soles worn and familiar.

As you reached to place them in your locker, your fingers grazed the edge of your bag—and caught on something solid.

Your notebook.

Half-pulled out from the zip, the familiar binding stared back at you. You paused, letting your hand drift across it. The edges were slightly bent, the corners smudged with ink and sweat—the wear of constant use. Your personal archive of strategy, scribbles, notes, predictions... the letter. You hoped the boys had reviewed the photos you'd sent last night. Even if you were furious at Ukai, you still wanted them to win. You still wanted him to win.

You pressed the notebook gently back into your bag and zipped it up.

"Hey, girl. You coming?" a voice called near the doorway.

You looked up quickly. One of your teammates, half through the door, eyes bright with post-game energy.

You gave her a smile. "Oh, yeah! Sorry. I'll be right there."

You shut your locker and turned to leave, but your eyes flicked to the far side of the room. At the row of sinks stood Yuka, one hand gripping porcelain, the other braced against the edge as she hunched over slightly.

Concern tugged at your chest.

"Hey, Yuka. You coming?"

She didn't look up, just shook her head into the sink. "You go ahead. I'm not feeling too hot."

You hesitated, already stepping toward her. "Want me to tell Coach? Or I can stay here with you if—"

"No!" she said quickly—too quickly. She turned and gave you a wavering smile. "Really, it's fine. Don't ruin your lunch for me. It's just nerves. Karasuno's a tough match. I'll catch up in a bit."

You eyed her warily but nodded. "Alright. Let me know if you need anything."

"Will do."

You gave her one more glance before heading out.

The door clicked shut behind you. A beat of silence passed.

Yuka slowly lifted her head, her reflection pale under the harsh fluorescent lights. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and her stomach twisted as she dragged her fingers through her hair, trying to steady herself.

"This is necessary," she whispered, shaking her head at herself. "Completely necessary."

Her voice trembled, but she forced a breath and puffed out her cheeks, letting it go slow. The sound filled the empty locker room for just a second before silence swallowed it again. She leaned closer to the mirror, eyes searching her own face.

"She's not perfect. She's not. Everyone acts like she is, but... she's not." Her throat tightened as the words left her, a feeble shield against the guilt already gnawing at her insides. "I'm not... doing anything bad. Not really. Just making sure people see it. Just making sure they stop looking at her like she's untouchable."

The pep talk didn't calm the frantic beat of her heart, but it was enough to make her move.

She turned and padded quickly to your locker. Her fingers shook as she punched in the combination she'd memorized from watching you a hundred times. When the lock popped with a faint click, her pulse spiked so loud she swore she could hear it in her ears.

The door creaked open.

Her eyes darted immediately to the shoes. White, seemingly spotless despite months of practice, practically glowing against the dim metal shelves. She crouched down, knees pressing into the cold tile, and pulled a small pair of cosmetic scissors from her pocket—the kind she usually used on her brows. They looked ridiculous in her clammy hands, tiny and harmless, but sharp enough for what she needed.

"Just a little," she muttered under her breath, her fingers trembling as she lifted one shoe into her lap. "Just... enough."

She pinched at the sole near the ball of the foot, pressed the scissors to the rubber, and snipped. The sound was so soft it barely registered over the distant hum of the ceiling fan. Another quick snip. The rubber peeled back slightly, leaving a thin, fragile flap. Her breath caught in her throat.

"Oh god," she whispered, her stomach lurching. For a split second, she almost put the scissors down, almost shoved the shoe back and walked away.

But instead, she fumbled for the small tube of glue she'd stolen from the equipment room. She squeezed it into the cut, messy and uneven, her hands slippery with sweat. The glue reeked faintly of chemicals. She pressed the rubber flap down again, smoothing it with the flat of her thumb until it looked whole. From the outside, no one would notice. But under pressure, under the heat and strain of a real match, the weak seam would tear. The sole would rip loose. And you would slip.

"See? Not so bad. It's fine," Yuka told herself in a rush, her voice cracking. "She'll just... fall. People will see she's not perfect. That's all. That's all."

She repeated the same shaky process with the second shoe, her breaths uneven, her fingers clammy against the rubber. By the time she set them both neatly back into place, her whole body was trembling.

"Perfect," she whispered, but the word cracked like glass on her tongue.

A voice echoed down the hall.

"Hello? Is anyone there? Y/N, are you inside?"

Yuka's entire body went cold.

Panic exploded in her chest. She dropped the shoes with a muffled thud, the scissors clattering loudly against the tile. The tube of glue rolled across the floor, sticky residue trailing after it. Her breath hitched as she snatched her bag, nearly fumbling it, then scrambled clumsily into the nearest stall. The metal door banged shut just as the gym door creaked open.

"Hello?" Ukai's voice called again, closer this time. His footsteps echoed against the floor. He stepped inside, eyes scanning the locker room. His brow furrowed. "Huh. Could've sworn I heard someone talking..." He rubbed the back of his neck, visibly tense. His eyes drifted from locker to locker, searching.

You weren't here either.

He let out a low, frustrated sigh. Where could you be? He'd checked everywhere—the gym, the bleachers, the hallways. This locker room had been his last hope. His fingers drummed anxiously against his thigh.

Were you hiding from him? Had he messed up that badly last night? He turned to leave, his shoulders sinking with the weight of defeat. But then, something caught his eye.

Your locker. It was opened. And your shoes—scattered on the ground.

He raised an eyebrow, confused as he approached slowly, crouching down and picking one up to inspect them. Yep, these were definitely yours. But why were they on the ground like this? Why was your locker open? Had you left in a hurry?

However, the questions quickly went away when another realization hit him. Your shoes were still here. That meant...

You were outside. Somewhere he hadn't thought to check.

"Damn it." He mumbled. How could he found you if you were outside. He didn't have enough time to try to find and talk to you before the match, it was hopeless. He let out a harsh sigh and carefully placed the shoes back into your locker. It wasn't what he wanted but he'd have to wait until after.

Just as he reached to close it, a sharp voice rang out behind him. 

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" The sharp voice cracked through the air like a whip.

Ukai nearly jumped out of his skin, spinning around so fast he almost dropped what he was holding.

At the doorway stood your coach, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her expression carved in stone. Her sharp eyes locked onto him, pinning him in place with a glare that could have flattened even the cockiest player on the court.

"Coach—" he started, hands half-raised as if surrendering, "I—It's not what it looks like!"

Her gaze dropped deliberately to his hands. "Don't even try," she snapped. "You're standing in my girls's locker room. Do you have any idea how this looks?"

Ukai's mouth opened, closed. His mind scrambled for an explanation that didn't sound completely insane. "I wasn't— I didn't mean— you know me, I was just—" He tripped over every word, cheeks burning red.

The coach cut him off with a sharp step forward, her voice dropping low and dangerous. "I know damn well who you are, Karasuno. But being Y/n's friend doesn't make you immune to the rules. What in the hell possessed you to walk in here of all places? Couldn't you have waited to give her the shoes like a normal person?"

His eyebrows knitted in confusion for a second before it hit him. Shoes. He glanced down, realizing that he was still clutching your shoes.

For a second, he considered correcting her—telling the truth, that he hadn't come here to "deliver" anything but was only looking for you and stupidly went into the girl's locker room as a last desperate possibility. However, he didn't want to look more stupid and creepy than he already did and her eyes were so sharp, her tone so furious, that instinct won over honesty.

"R-Right," he stammered quickly, forcing a weak laugh. "Yep. The shoes. That's... exactly it. She forgot them, and I—uh—I was just trying to bring them back before her match."

The coach's eyes rolled in exhasperation as she let out a sharp breath through her nose. "Just leave them in her locker. She'll find them after lunch." She stepped closer, her voice cutting. "Now, get out of here, Karasuno. And I don't want to see you in here again."

Ukai opened his mouth to protest, to ask where he could find you, but her glare slammed it shut again. "Wait, I—"

"My patience have limits. You've got exactly five seconds to disappear before I call your coach and tell him one of his boys thought sneaking into the girls' locker room was a good idea. And don't test me—I'll see to it you don't step on a court again this season if this ever happens twice. Friends with y/n or not."

Deflated, Ukai muttered a frantic apology, shoved the shoes back into your locker, and bolted out the door, his pulse racing with equal parts frustration and humiliation.

The coach stayed behind, muttering under her breath as the door swung shut. "Teenage boys... always finding new ways to cause trouble." She shook her head as she looked around the room, searching for someone but eventually she only sighed and left.

A long moment passed. Then, the stall door creaked open. Yuka emerged, her steps light and careful. She peeked around the corner to make sure no one lingered.

Silence.

She let out a low exhale, placing a hand over her frantically beating heart. "Holy shit, that was close." she whispered in a silent panic. Yuka glanced back at your locker one last time, her eyes flickering with an unreadable emotion before she shook her head and quickly ran out of the room.

***

Chapter 36: Over

Chapter Text

The metallic click of the locker door echoed faintly as you swung it open, the noise barely audible over the hum of excitement and tension that filled the room. "Come on, girls! Change quickly. You're on in twenty minutes and we need to do some warm-up!" Coach's voice rang with urgency, cutting sharply through the chaos. Feet shuffled against the tile, zippers hissed open, voices overlapped in bursts of laughter and anxious chatter.

You moved fast, your pulse already starting to race. Your legs carried you with purpose to your locker as your hands moved almost without thought, grabbing the familiar pair of shoes that waited inside. Their worn-in shape felt like comfort, like ritual. You dropped down onto the bench behind you and pulled them on, lacing them tight and double-knotting out of habit. But the moment your foot hit the floor, a flicker of unease darted through you.

Something wasn't right.

Your brow furrowed as you stood fully, testing your weight from foot to foot. Something felt... different. Not painful, not dramatically off—but there was something odd about the balance. You glanced down at your feet, frowning faintly as you shifted your stance again.

"Hey, Y/n! You done? We need to go!" Chiyo's voice rang across the locker room, pulling your attention up. Her face peeked around the row of lockers, flushed with anticipation, her hair already tied up and ready as she walked up to you. "What's going on?" She asked, knowing you too well.

"I don't know," You glanced back at your shoes. "I just... my shoes feel ..weird?" You lifted back your head and crossed Chiyo's unimpressed gaze.

"Okay, I know what's going on," She shook her head as she wrapped an arm around your shoulder.

"You do?" You raised an eyebrow.

She nodded. "Of course. Classic pre-game nerves. You feel nothing is like usual, like everything is out of place but it's all in your head, y/n." She tapped your forehead with the tip of her index finger.

You bit the inner corner of your cheek. Could it just be nerves?

You straightened and exhaled. "Maybe you're right,"

"I'm always right," She proudly smiled as she took your hand. "Now come on! We have a game to win!"

With one last glance at your shoes, you let Chiyo guide you out the door. The hallway outside buzzed with electric energy, the sound of sneakers squeaking and balls bouncing echoing ahead. But it wasn't until you stepped into the light of the gym that your breath caught in your chest.

Rows and rows of filled bleachers stretched out before you like a living wall. It wasn't the nationals. It wasn't even a regional final. But the sight of every seat taken, every eye pointed toward the court, made your heartbeat drum harder.

This wasn't just a match. This was your match.

Your chance to prove you were more than a pretty name on a roster. More than just the Princess of Nekoma. This was the day the recruiters would see what you were capable of.

Chiyo slowed beside you, her presence grounding. She gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. Her voice, low and steady, cut through the rising static in your mind.

"Don't worry. You're gonna do great, like usual."

You swallowed hard and nodded. She smiled, and just like that, some of the tension in your chest eased. You drew in a slow, deep breath, forcing your shoulders back and your chin high. She was right. You were on fire today. You could do this, just like this morning, just like every time.

Across the net, the Karasuno girls were already warming up, calling plays, slapping palms. You recognized a few faces from previous matches. They were good. Tough. Aggressive. And they wanted to win just as badly as you did.

You scanned the bleachers, eyes flicking from section to section, trying to find them—the recruiters. You didn't know exactly who you were looking for, but you hoped, somehow, you'd just know. But before you could search too far, the sharp shriek of the referee's whistle cut through the gym, signaling both teams to their benches.

You took one last breath, held it, and then let it out slowly.

This was it. The match that mattered. The moment you'd been working toward since middle school.

And you were not going to fail.

***

"Damn it," Ukai muttered under his breath, the word rough and sharp as he slammed the door of the locker room behind him. With his jaw clenched, he leaned back against the cold metal, exhaling through his nose. The room around him was alive with noise—teammates talking over one another, the rustle of uniforms being pulled on, the clatter of shoes being tied—but none of it seemed to cut through the fog of frustration in his head.

From his spot near the benches, Makoto caught sight of him. Ukai's posture was tight, his arms crossed, shoulders hunched, eyes unfocused. Makoto tugged at his shoelaces, tying them off neatly before sighing. "What's with the long face? Y/n didn't buy your excuses, huh?" he asked casually, though his tone held an undercurrent of concern.

Ukai pushed himself off the door, dragging his feet toward his locker, which sat right beside Makoto's. He yanked it open with a bit more force than necessary, the clang echoing faintly. "Didn't even get to the excuses part," he grumbled, digging around for his gear.

Makoto arched an eyebrow, waiting for him to elaborate. "What do you mean?"

Ukai slammed a jersey down on the bench with a frustrated huff. "I searched everywhere. Every damn corner of the building. I even—" his voice pitched higher, almost a shout "—I even went into their locker room!"

The words landed like a spark in dry grass. Heads snapped toward him, his teammates pausing mid-conversation, mid-laughter. Akio practically leapt across the room, his eyes wide with mock envy. "You what?! You went into the girls' locker room?!"

"Damn, how was it?" Taro hollered from across the benches, already grinning. "Did you see anyone naked?"

"Tell us everything!" Akio grabbed a fistful of Ukai's jersey and shook him dramatically. "How many girls were in there?"

Ukai shoved him off with a disgusted look. "Don't be gross, guys. There wasn't anyone in there." His tone was clipped, dismissive, but the disappointed groan that rippled through the room made it clear the boys were already moving on.

He turned back to Makoto, who was giving him a look—flat, unimpressed, and edged with something close to exasperation. Ukai bristled under it. "What?" he snapped.

Makoto tugged the tongue of his shoe into place and shook his head. "You're an idiot."

Ukai let out a humorless laugh. "Wow, thanks for the pep talk."

"That's not what I mean." Makoto's voice was steadier now, quieter, but it cut sharper than the others' teasing. "You can't just go barging into the girls' locker room, man. First off, it's disrespectful—"

"I know it was stupid," Ukai interrupted, his words tumbling out fast, defensive. "I wasn't thinking! I just... I thought maybe she was hiding from me in there, avoiding me. I panicked!"

Makoto raised a hand to shut him up, his tone hardening. "And second—you're lucky as hell you didn't get caught. You could've been kicked out of today's match! All because you couldn't wait until tonight to talk to her." His eyes narrowed, his voice dropping. "Do you even think sometimes before you act?!"

Ukai's shoulders slumped, his gaze falling to the floor. He mumbled something under his breath, but it was drowned out by the shuffle of sneakers and the thud of locker doors. Guilt twisted in his gut, heavy and bitter.

Makoto studied him for a long moment before sighing. He placed a hand on Ukai's shoulder, grounding him. "Look, I get it. You feel bad about what you said. But right now? You've got bigger things to worry about. This match is important for all of us. We can't win it if you're not here with us. A hundred percent. You feel me?"

Ukai finally lifted his head, his eyes meeting Makoto's. He swallowed and nodded once, curt. "Yeah. Got it."

"Good." Makoto gave his shoulder a firm pat, then smirked. "Don't worry. I'm sure you'll make out with Y/n by tonight."

Ukai froze, blinking as his brain tripped over the words. "What?!" His voice cracked, and his face went red instantly.

Makoto was already walking away, his grin widening. "Oops. I meant make up." The grin turned downright wicked. "Slip of the tongue."

"No, you didn't!" Ukai barked, mortified, his ears burning. "Jackass." He mumbled as he scrambled to pull on his shoes, fumbling with the laces in his rush to catch up. His protests echoed down the corridor as he bolted out of the locker room, chasing after his friend.

At the far end of the hall, just by the gym doors, Coach Ukai stood waiting, posture rigid, expression unreadable. The younger Ukai slowed, his chest still tight, the weight of everything—you, the match, the guilt—pressing down as he approached his coach's stern figure.

The muffled roar of hundreds of voices outside pressed faintly through the walls, a low, constant hum that seemed to thrum in the floor beneath their feet. Every Karasuno boy stood straighter, shoulders squaring almost instinctively to mirror their coach's rigid posture. The air was thick with expectation, their chatter dying out until the only sounds left were the faint squeaks of sneakers against tile and the dull rustle of jerseys being adjusted.

Keishin sneaked through the sea of bodies of his teammates, all the way to Makoto, nearly stumbling over himself in his haste. He caught his balance, but not before drawing his grandfather's piercing stare. That look—sharp, unwavering, and heavy with quiet judgment—landed like a stone in his chest. Keishin dropped his gaze immediately, fixing it on the floorboards as heat crept up his neck. He straightened his posture in a clumsy attempt to recover, his fingers curling against thigh.

Coach Ukai cleared his throat, the sound commanding their attention. "Everyone here?" His gravelly voice carried easily through the room.

"Yes, Coach." Makoto replied firmly, his voice echoing in the silence.

"Well then," The old man began, his words slow and deliberate, "here we are. I trust you've all eaten properly and used your lunch break wisely." His gaze paused on Keishin again, sharper and shorter this time but it was enough to make his grandson understand he knew. Then he pressed on. "This may not be the nationals, but you might as well treat it as such. There might not be any stakes, it might only be a friendly match but I want you to play like your lives depend on it.  Hundreds of people are in those stands, and hundreds more are watching beyond them. Do not let it rattle you. Focus only on the court. Play the way you did yesterday, and you will have no trouble putting Nekoma in their place."

He let the weight of his words hang for a beat before asking, "Understood?"

"Yes, Coach!" the team barked back in unison, voices ringing with determination.

The old man's eyes narrowed, testing, then softened only slightly as he gave a single nod. "Good. Make me proud."

With that, he turned, pushing open the double doors. The muffled roar beyond burst into full force—cheers, chants, the booming call of drums, and the rhythmic clap of hands filling the hallway like a wave crashing over them.

Keishin's eyes widened as he followed his teammates out, the noise striking him full in the chest. He stopped for a moment just past the threshold, his breath catching. The gym stretched out before him, alive and seething. Every bleacher was crammed with bodies, split in a sea of color—red and black for Nekoma on one side, orange and black for Karasuno on the other. The sound was overwhelming, chants for both schools rising and colliding in a chaotic storm that rattled in his bones.

His mouth went dry, lips parting as his heart hammered faster. He had never stood before a crowd this big, never felt the sheer weight of so many eyes fixed on the court. Nerves twisted sharp in his gut, tugging his thoughts unsteadily. His gaze flicked toward the stands, scanning through the blur of strangers, almost against his will searching for a familiar face. For your face, as if you would somehow magically be here. Of course, he knew you weren't—you had your own match, your own fight going on as he stood right now—but still, hope tugged at him stubbornly.

"Come on, man. We gotta move." Yusuke's hand clapped down on his shoulder as he strode past, snapping Keishin from his trance.

Keishin gave a small shake of his head, forcing his feet to move, following the others onto Karasuno's side of the court. They fell into warm-ups, the rhythm of stretches and drills a lifeline that steadied his hands and eased the tremor in his chest. He moved through every motion with precision, unwilling to risk injury or draw his grandfather's ire again.

When the team finally shifted into their starting positions, Keishin settled into the right back. He forced a breath deep into his lungs, closing his eyes for a brief second to center himself. He needed to block it all out—your face, his guilt, the noise, the pressure. Just focus. Just play.

But when his eyes opened again, his focus faltered. Across the net, Kaito Hinode stood in his place, his posture effortless, his expression carrying that same infuriating smugness that Keishin despised. Their eyes locked, a silent battle flaring to life before the first ball had even flown.

God, he hated him. Hated that perfect hair, that easy confidence. Hated how everyone seemed to look at him, admire him. Hated that you, of all people, ever looked his way.

Keishin's jaw tightened, an involuntary twitch tugging at his eye as his thoughts spiraled. What did Hinode have that he didn't—

He cut himself off, clamping down on the thought before it could fully form. Not now. Not here.

He narrowed his gaze, locking onto Kaito with wordless fire. I'm going to win.

Kaito's smirk only deepened, his eyes gleaming as the referee's whistle pierced the air.

And in that look, Keishin read the unspoken reply as clearly as if it had been spoken aloud: We'll see.

***

The sharp trill of the referee's whistle cut through the air, silencing the restless murmurs of the crowd. Your pulse leapt in your throat. The ball was already in motion, moving swiftly to Karasuno's setter, her hands poised like delicate traps waiting to spring. Every muscle in your body was taut, eyes locked on her, scrutinizing the tilt of her shoulders, the flicker of her gaze, every subtle shift that might give away her target. In that fraction of a second, her eyes darted right, and instinct roared louder than thought. You lunged toward that side of the court, legs pumping, sneakers squeaking against polished wood.

Hina, the eager first-year shadowing your steps, mirrored your motion. Together you sprang upward, arms rising like pillars as the Karasuno spiker launched into her jump. The world condensed into that single collision—her palm slamming the ball with all the force of her body, your hands braced like a wall. The sting seared across your palms as leather struck flesh, but then came the sharp, satisfying sound of the ball ricocheting back down onto Karasuno's side. The gym erupted. Cheers and claps thundered in your ears as the ball smacked the court with finality.

Suspended in the air for a breath longer, triumph curled into a small smile at the corner of your lips. This was going to be easy. Then gravity reclaimed you. Your shoes hit the ground—and for the briefest, alarming instant, the world tilted. Your right foot slid, the sole skimming the court as if it had forgotten how to grip. Your balance teetered wildly, knees dipping, arms flailing before you caught yourself. Heart hammering, you masked the stumble with a quick step back into place, though your skin buzzed with unease.

"Woooh! We're starting strong!" Chiyo's voice pierced through the chaos, bright and unbothered. She barreled into you, throwing her arms around your shoulders in celebration. "Good job, Y/n! Let's keep this up!"

You forced a grin, nodding back as she bounced away to her position. But your eyes betrayed you. They dropped instantly to your feet. You flexed your toes, shifted your weight. But before you could bend down and check, the referee's whistle shrilled again. The game surged forward, pulling you with it.

It was only a slip-up. That's what you told yourself as you shook the thought away and squared your shoulders again. Nothing more. Just nerves. Just the pressure of today pressing into your bones. Focus. You drew a breath, casting a quick glance at the bleachers. There, somewhere in the crowd, you knew the recruiters were watching—men in sharp jackets, pens already in motion. A knot twisted in your stomach as you tore your gaze back to the court.

The set pressed on, fast and relentless. At first, you managed to keep pace. You dug a difficult serve, sent a clean pass to your setter, even spiked a ball that forced Karasuno's libero to fling herself desperately across the floor. But with every rally, the unease in you grew louder. Your steps felt half a beat late, your pushes weaker, your landings less solid. Every time you leapt, it felt like invisible hands dragged at your ankles, holding you just shy of the height you needed.

The score began to tilt. Karasuno took a point. Then another. Your team fought hard, but every small mistake seemed to echo louder than usual. Twice, you lunged for a ball only to feel your footing betray you, your shoes slipping against the polished court. Each time you forced yourself upright, face burning, pretending nothing was wrong. But your chest tightened with every stolen glance at the recruiters. Were they noticing? Were they scribbling your failures into their notes?

By mid-set, your confidence had thinned to a thread. You caught yourself glancing at the stands almost every other point, eyes darting from their pens to your shoes and back again. The cycle fed itself—slip, panic, glance, doubt. And the more your focus strayed, the easier Karasuno pulled ahead. The cheers from their side of the gym grew bolder, louder, drowning out the support meant for you.

Another rally. Another chance. The ball flew high, Karasuno's spiker leaping with grace, her strike cracking through the air. You read it late—half distracted, half too slow—and scrambled to meet it. But your jump lagged, the ball tearing past your fingers. It slammed into the floor just behind you. Gasps rippled through the gym. 

What the fuck was going on with you?

You clenched your fists. Don't look. Don't look. But your head turned anyway. The recruiters were watching. One scribbled quickly, lips pressed thin. The sight hollowed you out.

The next rally came, and your nerves made you sluggish. Your reactions dulled by the thrum of panic in your veins. Again, you faltered. Again, the points stacked against you. Each mistake carved a deeper gash in your composure until every movement felt weighted with dread. You didn't understand. Why were you ruining everything? You had to pull yourself together and quick.

Finally, the moment came. Another serve from Karasuno, a blistering fastball that sailed just over the net. You shifted into position but unable to stay still, your fingers fidgeting together and your eyes betrayed you, flicking toward the bleachers. Just for a second. Just long enough. The ball hissed past your shoulder, the gust of air grazing your cheek as it smashed against the floor with an echoing crack.

The referee's whistle blared, merciless. "Point to Karasuno." The set was theirs.

Your breath caught, the world narrowing in horror. You hadn't even moved. Not fast enough, not at all. You had let it fly straight past, frozen in place like a rookie.

"Come on, girls! Hydrate quickly!" Your coach's voice cut through, forcing movement back into your legs. The team jogged to the bench, reaching for their water bottles, chatter buzzing with forced optimism. A short break before the second set. Time to reset. To breathe.

You sat, heart pounding, bottle forgotten in your hands. Your teammates' voices faded into a dull hum. Your focus was fixed upward, to the bleachers where the recruiters sat scribbling. Their faces were blank, unreadable, but the hasty movements of their pens felt like judgment carved into stone. Your pulse quickened, your throat tightening as the certainty sank like a stone in your chest: they weren't impressed. Not yet. Maybe not at all.

Your gaze dropped to your hands. They trembled faintly against the plastic of your water bottle, betraying you. "What's happening to me?" you whispered under your breath, as if your body owed you an answer. Why couldn't you play normally?

You inhaled sharply, forcing air into your lungs, whispering a mantra as though repetition could steady the quake inside you. "Focus, focus, focus..." Your lips barely moved, the words slipping like prayers between clenched teeth. Still, your chest tightened, panic rising.

"Focus, damn it!" The hiss slipped out louder than you intended. Heads turned. Teammates glanced at you, brows furrowing in concern. Even your coach paused mid-sentence, eyes flicking to you.

You blinked rapidly, cheeks heating under the sudden attention. You swallowed hard, forcing your gaze down, then up again to meet theirs with an awkward nod. "I'm fine," you wanted to say, but the words stuck. The referee's whistle pierced again, slicing the moment apart.

The team rose, jogging back onto the court. You trailed after them slowly, the weight of a hundred eyes heavy on your shoulders. As you bent into position, your coach's voice carried softly from behind, steadier than your own thoughts: "Don't stress. You've got this."

But as your eyes drifted once more to the recruiters, pens poised, gazes critical, the thought curled in the pit of your stomach like ice:

You weren't so sure about that anymore.

***

"I'm open!" Yusuke's voice rang out from the right, sharp and urgent. Ukai surged forward, legs burning with effort as he closed in on the ball. His breath was tight in his chest, every nerve alive with the split-second calculations that came with being Karasuno's setter. The ball floated down into his orbit, demanding control, and the world seemed to narrow around him.

He flicked his gaze left first—Makoto was already in motion, barreling toward the net with that explosive drive of his, steps perfectly timed for a spike. Reliable, powerful, a safe option. On the right, Yusuke mirrored the charge, his energy just as fierce, calling again, arms raised, hunger written all over his face. Two strong choices, equally dangerous. It all came down to the smallest details—the defense across the net.

Ukai's eyes darted to the opposite side. Nekoma was ready, every blocker poised like a wall waiting to rise. They anticipated him, the setter, their focus honed on every twitch of his shoulders, every shift of his weight. But then he saw it—number 8. The middle blocker. His stance betrayed hesitation, legs coiled but uncertain, his gaze locked on Ukai, waiting for the tell. Right or left, Makoto or Yusuke. He was the lynchpin, the one who could tip the balance if Ukai gave even the slightest clue.

The ball descended. Time seemed to stretch, elongated by adrenaline. Ukai leaned right, his torso twisting ever so slightly, his voice tearing out in a shout: "Yusuke!"

Number 8 bit the bait instantly, shifting hard to the right, arms preparing to close in with the other blocker. But at the very same moment, Ukai's wrists snapped, setting the ball left. It sailed cleanly, a perfect arc to meet Makoto's leap. Makoto exploded upward, his form crisp, his hand colliding with the ball like a hammer striking steel. The impact cracked through the air. Nekoma's blockers scrambled, arms shooting up to resist, but Makoto's spike ripped through their defenses. The ball crashed into the court with merciless finality.

The whistle shrieked. Point to Karasuno.

The crowd roared, a tidal wave of noise crashing around them. Cheers, stomps, the echo of hands clapping in rhythm—every sound fed the fire in Ukai's veins. His teammates shouted triumph, fists pumping, the energy infectious. Karasuno was dominating, already pulling ahead at 11–5. Ukai's chest swelled with pride as he clenched his fist and thrust it upward, eyes immediately finding the one opponent he wanted most to see unravel.

Kaito Hinode.

Ukai expected anger, expected to see that perfect hair damp with sweat and a scowl twisting his arrogant features. He wanted to see him rattled, furious, breaking under pressure. Instead, what he saw sent a spike of irritation crawling under his skin.

A smirk. That same infuriating smirk Kaito always wore—the one that said he was still in control, that none of this mattered. His expression was steady, calm, as though Karasuno's lead was nothing more than a temporary inconvenience. It wasn't the look of a captain losing ground. It was the look of a predator who'd already set the trap and was waiting for it to snap shut.

Ukai's jaw tightened, confusion prickling his confidence. Why the hell was he still so smug? Karasuno was on fire, they were crushing Nekoma point by point. Kaito should be cracking under the pressure, not standing there like he'd already won.

The referee's whistle called a timeout. Nekoma's coach, Nekomata, gestured them to the sideline. Ukai turned reluctantly, following his team as they grabbed their bottles, his fists still clenched with leftover adrenaline. He tried to focus on his grandfather's words—sharp, commanding instructions—but his attention kept sliding back to the opposite bench.

Kaito stood among his teammates, head bent as Nekomata spoke, every Nekoma player locked in. But then, as the referee raised a hand to signal the end of the break, Ukai caught the moment. Kaito stepped forward, gathering their attention. He raised his hand, thumb and forefinger curling into a smooth 'okay' sign, holding it for only a second. Every Nekoma player nodded as if understanding perfectly, their faces settling into calm determination before they jogged back to the court.

Ukai's brows drew together, unease coiling in his gut. What the hell was that? It wasn't random. It was deliberate. Some kind of signal, some plan whispered in the cracks of the timeout.

"Let's do this," Makoto's voice pulled him back, his fist thrust upward with determination. The team rallied, answering in unison with shouts and slaps on shoulders, energy re-ignited.

But Ukai's gaze wandered again, inevitably, back to Kaito. He stood there, just across the net, posture unshaken, that damn smirk cutting across his face like a blade. Ukai's hands twitched at his sides, nails digging into his palms. Hatred surged hot and sharp in his chest.

He'd win this match and rub it in his face. Then he'd finally apologize to you and make you see how awful Kaito truly was. You deserved better than this egotistical idiot.

Ukai sighed. The captain of Nekoma stood at the far back of the court, the ball rolling between his hands as though it were a living thing he had tamed. His breaths were slow, controlled, shoulders rising and falling with the rhythm of someone who owned this moment. The roar of the crowd seemed to dim around him, drawn into the gravity of his composure. Ukai watched closely, eyes narrowing, because something felt different. The smirk was still there, the cool arrogance that always made his blood boil, but beneath it now was a focus so razor-sharp it made the air feel heavier. Kaito wasn't rattled—he was ready. Too ready.

The whistle cut through the tension. Kaito tossed the ball high, his steps gliding forward with practiced precision. He leapt, the motion fluid, powerful, and his hand crashed against the ball with a sound that cracked like thunder. Ukai tracked it, heart clenching. The ball flew low, fast, a missile aimed at Karasuno's back line. Their libero dove, arms outstretched, but the velocity was too much—too sharp. The ball smacked the floorboards before he could even angle his forearms.

Point to Nekoma.

Ukai grit his teeth, frustration flaring. Across the net, Kaito simply adjusted his wristbands, the corners of his mouth tugging into that insufferable smirk.

Another whistle. Another serve. Kaito's movements were seamless, a repeat performance. Toss, leap, strike. The ball screamed past Karasuno's defenses again, untouched. The scoreboard flipped. 11–7. Their lead was shrinking.

Ukai's fingers twitched at his sides, restless and sharp with irritation. They had to shut him down. Fast. They couldn't let Nekoma's captain dictate the pace.

The ball lifted again, high into the gym's lights, and Kaito's body followed, his strike hammering the ball with merciless precision. This time, though, Ukai was ready. He shifted his stance, knees bent, eyes locked on the spinning leather. He steadied his arms, bracing for impact. The ball slammed against his forearms, the sting immediate, searing—but the rebound was clean. The ball lifted, suspended in the air, and Ukai exhaled through clenched teeth.

He'd stopped it.

Relief surged, victory crackling in his veins at this small win. "Now finish it!" he barked, already pivoting into position. It was the perfect time to use one of their signals, the ones they'd drilled over and over for since last night. He raised his hand in the briefest coded gesture, the motion snapping like a spark his teammates instantly understood.

A synchronized attack with feint. A member of Karasuno and Yusuke surged forward at the same time, timing flawless, their footsteps pounding in unison as the ball arced toward them. Ukai's set was quick, precise—he sent it spiraling right into the heart of their formation. Both spikers leapt together, arms raised high, the illusion impossible to track for any normal defense as they landed back and Makoto appeared from behind. 

The ball met Makoto's palm, thunder splitting the air—

—and was smothered by a wall of hands.

The block was perfect, crushing, the ball ricocheting straight back onto Karasuno's side before anyone could react. Point to Nekoma.

Ukai's shoes smacked the court as he landed, disbelief flashing across his face. "How in the hell..." he muttered, eyes glued to Kaito, who hadn't even broken a sweat. 

"Lucky bastards. Must've seen Makoto running." Yusuke spat, shaking his head as they reset positions. Ukai said nothing, though his fists tightened at his sides. His pulse thundered. Was it luck? Yes, it was. They'd never seen those signals, they were fresh. No one else should've known. He blinked, trying to steady his thoughts. It had to be coincidence. A one-off. Nothing more.

But it wasn't.

As the set ground on, every confident step Karasuno took was met with resistance. Every signal they ran, every combination they trusted—blocked, countered, smothered as if Nekoma knew their plays before they even happened. What had been an easy lead crumbled point by point, frustration mounting with every whistle. Yusuke cursed under his breath. Makoto barked at the others to hold steady. But unease rippled through the team like cracks spreading through glass.

And Ukai—Ukai felt the bottom dropping out. His hands grew damp, his sets growing a hair too sharp, a breath too late. His eyes kept darting to Kaito, to that captain's steady face. Calm, unwavering, smug. Like he had planned this collapse from the start. The more Karasuno struggled, the more Ukai's stomach twisted with dread. Anxiety buzzed in his chest, suffocating, as the scoreboard swung violently against them.

The final whistle blared. The gym erupted, half the crowd roaring with triumph, the other half stunned into silence. The numbers glared down from the board, undeniable and cruel:

25–11.

Nekoma had annihilated them.

Ukai stood frozen, chest heaving, the noise of the gym muted under the roar in his head. How had this happened? How had they gone from dominance to devastation in the span of a single set? It wasn't just losing—it was being dismantled, piece by piece, exposed until there was nothing left.

He dragged his gaze across the net, and there was Kaito. Calm. Collected. That smirk still etched across his face like a scar Ukai couldn't look away from. He wasn't tired. He wasn't rattled. He was enjoying this. Relishing it.

Ukai's fingers twitched uncontrollably, curling into fists, then loosening again. His throat was dry, breath ragged. Hatred burned in his chest, tangled with confusion and something sharper: fear.

A hand clapped his shoulder, startling him. "Come on, man. Let's go hydrate. You'll need it for the next set." Makoto brushed past, his voice steady, though his jaw was tight with the same confusion etched into them all.

Ukai blinked, forcing his body to move, to follow. His legs felt heavy, his thoughts heavier. He told himself it was just one set. Just one. They could turn it around. They had to. Still, as he glanced once more at Kaito's smirk, lingering like a curse, one thought seared through the haze of exhaustion:

Hopefully, things were going better for you.

***

"I got it!"

The Karasuno captain's voice cut sharp through the noise of the gym. You barely had time to turn your head before her body soared above you, blotting out the harsh fluorescent light overhead. For a split second, the shadow of her frame fell across your face, and then came the sound—the sickening thwack of her palm meeting the ball, so clean, so powerful, that it sailed straight past your blockers and slammed into the court. The whistle followed a heartbeat later, shrill and merciless.

Another point to Karasuno.

Another weight dragging you under.

Your chest tightened as the referee's arm shot up, confirming what you already knew. The scoreboard ticked forward, mocking you with its unforgiving numbers. The second set was slipping away just like the first, and no matter how hard you pushed, no matter how many times you told yourself to focus, you couldn't seem to stop it. Every second out here felt like the ground beneath your feet was cracking. You were desperate—desperate for something, anything to go your way. A miracle, a break, a chance. You would've prayed, bargained, begged, if it meant turning this around. Just one point to remind yourself that you belonged here. Just one.

But nothing came. And the more you pushed, the more it all crumbled.

Why today? you screamed silently at yourself. Out of all the days, why now? Why when everything was on the line? The recruiters sat in the stands—your recruiters, the ones who could change your life—pens scratching against their notepads. You couldn't see their expressions from here, but you imagined their brows furrowing, their notes harsh, their patience thinning. With every mistake, every slip, you felt your future slipping too. Your hands trembled at your sides. You wanted to fall to your knees, cry until your chest was hollow, but you couldn't. 

The whistle blew again. Karasuno served.

The ball tore across the net like a bullet. Your libero dived, arms outstretched, catching it clean. Relief flared—brief, fragile. The ball popped high, arcing toward Chiyo. Your setter was already there, steady as always, hands poised. This was it. Your moment. Maybe your last chance to prove that you weren't broken, that you weren't just some overrated name destined to fail in front of everyone.

Your lungs burned as you sprinted forward. "I'm open!" The words tore out of you, raw and urgent. The white line rushed beneath your shoes as you planted your feet, bent your knees, and launched yourself upward. You felt the strain in your muscles, the stretch of every tendon, but your jump wasn't what it should've been. Not the way it usually was. Still, it was enough. The ball was there, perfectly timed, hurtling into your reach.

Three blockers rose to meet you. A wall of arms and shoulders, waiting to smother you. But you saw it—an opening, narrow and fleeting. You'd trained for this. You'd lived for this. Your arm swung with everything you had left in you: the years of practice, the endless drills, the sweat, the blood, the aching need to be seen. Your palm connected with the ball, the crack echoing like a gunshot. It sliced through their defenses, slipping past their arms, and slammed onto Karasuno's side of the court.

The whistle sang again. Point to Nekoma.

For the first time that day, you let yourself breathe. Still airborne, your mouth curved into the ghost of a smile. You could still do this. You could still prove to them—and to yourself—that you weren't a failure. That this wasn't the end.

And then—

Crack.

It wasn't the sound of the ball this time. It was sharper, closer. Your foot hit the ground, but it didn't meet solid resistance—it slid. The sole gave way beneath you, rubber tearing, and your ankle twisted violently. The crowd gasped in unison as your body lurched. Gravity yanked you down before you could brace, and the floor slammed into your back. Pain shot through your skull as the back of your head bounced against the court.

The gym fell silent for a beat that felt eternal.

"Fuck! Y/n, are you okay?!" Chiyo's voice cracked, desperate, as her footsteps thundered toward you. She dropped to her knees, hands gripping your shoulders. Her face swam above you, wide-eyed with panic.

A groan slipped from your lips. You tried to push yourself up, head spinning, vision blurry. "I'm fine, I'm fine," you muttered, words tumbling clumsy and slurred. You pressed a hand to your forehead, willing the dizziness to fade. "Fuck..."

Your coach was there next, her whistle bouncing against her chest as she knelt beside you. "Y/n—what happened? Are you hurt?" Her tone was sharp, edged with fear.

You blinked rapidly, forcing your vision to settle. The world tilted, then steadied, the roaring in your ears softening enough for you to think. "I'm fine," you repeated, softer this time, almost convincing yourself. But then another sensation bled through the haze. A deep, throbbing ache radiating up your leg.

Your stomach sank as you looked down. Your breath hitched. The shoe—your shoe—was split wide at the sole, torn where it should've held firm. And your ankle throbbed in protest, pain blooming sharper with every second. Horror crawled up your spine.

This was bad.

Really, really bad.

You couldn't be injured. Not today. Not when the recruiters were watching. Not when your future was dangling by a thread. Panic clawed at your chest, but you shoved it down, forcing a weak laugh, trying to steady your breathing. You couldn't let them see. You couldn't let anyone see.

You had no choice but to lie. To get up. To walk it off.

"I just... I fell! It's nothing," you said quickly, your voice thin and shaky, your face tightening as you tried to mask the sharp pain twisting through your ankle. You forced your features into something resembling control, but it wasn't convincing. Not to her. Your coach's eyes narrowed, her expression lined with doubt as she glanced down toward your feet. One shoe had come off during the fall, and now it lay abandoned a few feet away. Torn clean in two. The sole had ripped away completely, separated like fragile paper. The sight was humiliating, damning.

Your coach turned back to you, her brow furrowed. "How's your foot? Can you move it?" she asked carefully, voice steady but firm.

Fuck. Your pulse hammered. "Y-Yep, no problem." You forced the words out, a brittle smile tugging at your lips as you shifted your foot slightly. The movement sent fire shooting through your ankle, white-hot pain that made you grit your teeth so hard you thought they'd crack. But you kept your voice level, swallowed the scream clawing its way up your throat. You couldn't break. Not here.

Her eyebrow arched higher, unconvinced. She sighed, heavy and weary. "Y/n, if you're injured, you need to tell me so we can treat it properly—"

"I'm not injured!" you snapped, the desperation seeping through before you could stop it. "I'm fine! I can play!" The words tumbled out, too fast, too defensive, your tone raw with panic.

She shook her head slowly, her voice gentler now, pity softening the sharp edges. "I get it, okay? I know this is important for you, but your safety comes first—"

"No!" The word exploded from your lips before she could finish. Your eyes widened, breath coming too fast, too shallow. "No, I swear I— I just— I can play! Look!" Your voice trembled, cracked in the middle. Your throat burned as your eyes blurred with hot, angry tears. You pushed against the floor, dragging yourself upright, wobbling unsteadily as your coach rose with you, arms crossed, watching closely.

"See? I'm fine." You laughed, a hollow, nervous sound that broke halfway through. "I can play, no problem—"

You forced a step forward. The second your foot touched down, agony ripped up your leg. Your ankle gave out. You collapsed, crashing forward onto the floor. Gasps rippled through the gym. Your coach jolted, heart in her throat, then dropped back to your side in a flash, her hands gripping your arms, steadying you as you trembled. Her voice was softer this time, heavy with pity. "Y/n..."

That single word broke something inside you. Your eyes welled, your chest caved in. It wasn't just the pain anymore. It was everything. All of it. The recruiters. The match. The future you'd built in your head. The desperate hope. The dream of being enough. You could feel it slipping away like sand through your fingers, no matter how hard you tried to hold on. Tears blurred your vision as you shook your head. "I can play... I swear I-I... please..." The words came out broken, whispered, barely hanging together.

Her lips pressed into a line. She turned to the referee, her voice firm and steady, though you could hear the regret in it. "I have an injured player here. I need help to bring her to the infirmary."

Your stomach dropped. "No! Please, Coach, I— I can— I swear I'm fine! I just need a minute!" The panic in your voice cracked, rising higher as tears streamed freely down your face now. You sounded like a child begging not to be left behind. "Please! I can't! I have to prove myself! I'll never make it otherwise!"

Your coach's eyes softened with sorrow. She glanced instinctively at the bleachers where the recruiters sat, their pens still moving, their attention clearly drawn to the scene unfolding. Her face tightened, and when she turned back to you, her expression was full of pity, not hope.

"Please..." The word tore out of you, raw, broken. "This is my only chance..." A sob slipped past your lips as another tear rolled down your cheek.

But she didn't answer. The referee was already at your side, kneeling, his arm slipping around your shoulders to lift you up. Your coach rose, her voice quiet, almost swallowed by the crowd. "I'm sorry, Y/n."

And then you were being carried away. Away from the court. Away from your teammates. Away from the recruiters who'd been your future, your dream. You stared, wide-eyed, desperate, as the court grew smaller and smaller behind you, tears streaming unchecked down your face.

It was over. Everything was ruined, and it was entirely your fault.

***