Aughki

The first thing people noticed wasn’t her footwork. Not her digs. Not even the way she read the game like a second heartbeat.

It was her last name.

de Jesus.

Inside the echoing halls of the De La Salle University gym, that name carried weight—history, pressure, and expectations that never asked for permission before settling on her shoulders.

Jhianna pulled her kneepads higher, tightening the straps with quiet precision. The rubber floor still smelled faintly of varnish and sweat, a familiar scent that had followed her since childhood. Long before she wore the green-and-white jersey, she had been the little girl sitting on the sidelines, swinging her legs, watching greatness unfold under the guidance of one man.

Her father.

Ramil de Jesus stood at the far end of the court now, arms crossed, expression unreadable. To everyone else, he was Coach Ramil—the legendary tactician behind the DLSU Lady Spikers dynasty. A man known for discipline, structure, and a kind of tough love that built champions.

To Jhianna, he was just Papa.

But not here.

Never here.

“Jhianna, faster on your drop step!” one of the assistant coaches barked.

She nodded quickly. “Yes, Coach.”

No excuses. No hesitation.

Again.

The ball came flying—sharp, fast, aimed just beyond reach. Jhianna lunged, her body instinctively low, arms locked. The impact stung, but the ball popped up clean, arcing perfectly toward the setter’s zone.

“Better,” came the short approval.

Not praise. Just acknowledgment.

That was how it always was.

From the sidelines, her older brother, Gian de Jesus, scribbled something on his clipboard. He didn’t look at her long—just a glance, quick and professional, like she was any other player.

Because she was.

Or at least… she was supposed to be.

It hadn’t always felt this heavy.

There was a time when volleyball was just… joy.

Back when she chased balls barefoot across the court, when her father would ruffle her hair after practice, when her brother would toss her easy receives and laugh when she missed.

But things changed when she wore the jersey.

The whispers came first.

Then the comments.

Then the labels.

“Nepo baby.”

“She’s only there because of her dad.”

“May slot na agad yan.”

Gianna had learned to scroll past them, her thumb moving faster than her thoughts. But words had a way of lingering, echoing louder in the quiet moments.

Because the truth?

She wasn’t given a slot.

Not even once.

“Line up!”

The team gathered quickly, sneakers squeaking as they formed a semicircle.

Coach Ramil stepped forward, his presence alone enough to silence the room.

“We are finalizing the roster for this season.”

Jhianna felt her chest tighten, but her face stayed neutral. She had mastered that—masking emotion, burying hope under layers of discipline.

“You all worked hard,” he continued. “But this team is built on performance. Not effort alone. Not potential.”

His gaze swept across them—steady, firm.

For a split second, it passed over her.

Not softer. Not harsher.

Just the same.

“As always,” he added, “we choose who gives the team the best chance to win.”

Simple.

Clear.

Final.

Later that night, the dorm was quieter than usual.

The DLSU Athlete's Dormitory had thin walls and shared spaces, but somehow, Gianna found her own silence within it.

She sat on her bed, phone face down beside her.

No announcement yet.

But she already knew.

She had trained harder this season than ever before. Extra reps. Extra drills. Staying late after everyone had left, practicing digs until her arms bruised and her shoulders burned.

She had done everything right.

But sometimes… everything right still wasn’t enough.

A soft knock broke the stillness.

“Open.”

Gian.

He leaned against the doorframe, arms folded—not as a coach this time, but as her brother.

“You okay?” he asked.

Gianna forced a small smile. “Of course.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re a bad liar.”

She let out a quiet breath, looking down at her hands. “Did I make it?”

Silence.

That was answer enough.

Her fingers curled slightly against her palm.

“Jhi,” he said gently, stepping inside. “You improved. A lot. But—”

“But not enough,” she finished for him.

He didn’t argue.

Because he couldn’t.

Later that same night, she found herself back in the gym.

Empty.

Quiet.

Honest.

She stood at the backline, ball in hand, staring at the net.

This court had seen champions. Legends. Players who carried the name of La Salle with pride and fire.

And her?

She wasn’t even on the roster.

A bitter laugh escaped her lips.

“Nepo baby, huh…”

If only they knew.

If only they saw the way her father corrected her more sharply than anyone else.

The way he never once called her “anak” inside the gym.

The way she had to earn even the smallest nod of approval.

A ball rolled softly across the floor.

She blinked.

Her father.

Coach Ramil picked it up, tossing it lightly toward her.

“Again,” he said.

No greeting.

No softness.

Just one word.

Gianna caught the ball, her grip tightening.

“Yes, Coach.”

He positioned himself across the net.

“Read me.”

Her heart pounded.

Not because he was her father.

But because he was Coach.

He hit.

Fast. Precise. Merciless.

She dove.

Missed.

“Too slow.”

Again.

She adjusted.

Dug.

“Better.”

Again.

Again.

Again.

Until her breathing turned ragged and her arms ached.

Finally, he raised a hand.

“Enough.”

She stayed low for a second longer before pushing herself up.

Silence stretched between them.

Then—

“You improved,” he said.

Gianna froze.

It wasn’t much.

But coming from him?

It was everything.

She swallowed. “Thank you, Coach.”

A pause.

Then, softer—

“I’m proud of you.”

Her chest tightened.

For a moment, she forgot how to breathe.

Because that— that was something he rarely said.

Not as a coach.

But as her father.

She blinked quickly, forcing the tears back.

“Even if I didn’t make it?”

He met her eyes.

“Especially because you didn’t.”

That night, Gianna lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.

The noise would come again tomorrow.

The comments.

The labels.

The assumptions.

But for the first time in a while, they didn’t feel as loud.

Because she finally understood something.

She wasn’t fighting for a slot.

She wasn’t fighting for validation.

She wasn’t even fighting the name people gave her.

She was fighting for herself.

And even if her name was never called—

She would still show up.

Still train.

Still dive for every ball like it mattered.

Because somewhere between the pressure and the pain, between being a daughter and being just another player…

Jhianna de Jesus was becoming something stronger than both.

Not a name.

Not a title.

But a player.

And this?

I just finish writing a full story in wattpad. Here's the link: https://www.wattpad.com/story/395858887-cross-court-tease

Italy had become Mayu Ishikawa’s second home over the years. The once unfamiliar language, the rich scent of espresso in the morning, and the echoing voices of passionate volleyball fans—she had embraced them all. It was her third year with Novara, and though it hadn’t been easy, she could finally say she had adjusted.

But that didn’t mean it wasn’t lonely.

Her older brother, Yūki Ishikawa, the pride of Japanese volleyball and the men's national team, was also in Italy—just five cities away. Five cities. In a smaller country, that might mean occasional dinners or weekend meet-ups. But for them, it had become a gap of silence. No messages, no calls, not even the casual sibling meme exchange others might take for granted. Their careers had swept them into different rhythms, and somewhere along the way, the distance had settled in—not out of bitterness, but simply… life.

Still, she thought of him sometimes—when she was taping her ankles before a game, or when the silence of her apartment after a loss felt too heavy. But she never reached out. She didn’t even know if she should.

The season’s curtain-raiser was set in Perugia—a joint event celebrating both SuperLega and Lega Volley Femminile. An elaborate affair, full of press, fans, music, and reunions. All Italian club teams, men and women, gathered in one large venue that buzzed with energy.

Mayu stood among her Novara teammates near the refreshment area. Laughter bubbled up as they joked about the off-season, trading stories and teasing one another in a mix of Italian and English. She smiled, genuinely enjoying the warmth, until she noticed them—two unfamiliar men hovering near their group.

At first, she thought nothing of it. Italians were friendly, sometimes too friendly. But when one of them inched closer, giving her a long, unsettling stare while pretending to sip from his glass, her body stiffened.

“Hey,” he said, slurring slightly, eyes fixed on her. “You’re that Japanese girl from the team, no? Very pretty. Very small, huh?”

Mayu gave a polite, strained smile, trying to angle her body toward her teammates.

“Grazie,” she muttered, barely audible.

But the man didn’t move on. Instead, he hovered—his eyes trailing her movements, his presence unsettling.

“Let’s go over there,” her teammate Sofia whispered in her ear, sensing her discomfort.

As they shifted toward the other end of the space, Mayu's heart beat faster. She didn't like confrontation. She wasn’t afraid, not exactly—but the feeling of being cornered sent goosebumps down her arms.

She scanned the hall, searching for anything familiar, for anyone who could ground her—and then she saw him.

Yūki.

Eight tables away.

Seated with his Perugia teammates, laughing over something that Simone Giannelli had probably said. His hair was a little longer than she remembered, and he looked broader now, more solid. Still annoyingly handsome, still surrounded by people.

For a second, she hesitated.

They hadn’t spoken in months. Not since the last national team meeting, when they passed each other in the hallway and exchanged nothing more than a nod.

Would he even want her to come?

But then she felt that man's gaze again—and her instincts overrode everything.

She didn’t walk. She ran.

“Yu-kun!”

Yūki turned, confused. The voice was familiar—almost surreal. He blinked twice, and there she was, rushing toward him with an expression he couldn’t quite read. It wasn’t joy. It was something else. Her voice shook when she said his name, and that’s when he knew—something was wrong.

He stood up just in time to catch her in a light embrace. Her fingers clutched his sleeve like an anchor.

“Hey,” he said softly, almost in disbelief. “Mayu?”

She nodded, burying her face quickly in his shoulder, hoping no one would notice how rattled she looked.

Yūki’s arm instinctively came around her shoulders in a protective side-hug.

His gaze swept the room—and there he was. The guy. Tall, greasy-haired, pretending to look elsewhere, but his eyes kept darting toward them.

Yūki’s jaw clenched.

“Is he bothering you?” he asked quietly into her hair.

She didn’t answer, but her silence said enough.

He tightened his hold on her and turned to his teammates.

“Guys,” he said, voice casual but edged, “this is my little sister. Mayu.”

Giannelli blinked in surprise. “La sorella?” “The Mayu Ishikawa?” another asked, eyebrows raised.

Mayu, still half-hiding beside her brother, gave a polite nod and forced a smile.

Yūki subtly shifted so he was between her and the man. He didn’t make a scene, didn’t even look back again—but the message was clear. She’s not alone. Not anymore.

Mayu felt her breath even out slowly.

She didn’t know what came next. Maybe they’d part ways after tonight and return to their separate lives. Maybe they’d go back to being strangers with the same last name.

But in that moment, when Yūki’s hand remained gently at her back, guiding her into the circle of his teammates like she belonged there, she felt something she hadn’t in a long time.

Safe.

A Mayu Ishikawa & Tatsunori Otsuka Oneshot

Italy was beautiful—but sometimes, it could feel a little too big, a little too loud, especially when you hadn’t fully cracked the language yet.

Mayu Ishikawa loved playing for Novara, but tonight, at this rare mini-fellowship between the men’s and women’s teams, she found herself quietly seated in the corner of the bustling restaurant, nursing a barely touched glass of juice while her teammates laughed and chatted effortlessly with the Allianz Milano players.

The men’s team, as expected, was lively. The girls from Novara mixed well with them—some even slipping comfortably into Italian mid-conversation—but Mayu, always a little shy, especially in mixed groups, especially in another language, kept to herself.

She smiled politely, occasionally nodded when her teammates tried to pull her in, but mostly, she sat there, observing. The language barrier still felt like a tall wall, and even in English, she was careful. Conversations flew too fast, and she wasn’t used to pushing herself into them.

A part of her was okay with just watching.

Until someone sat down beside her.

"Hey," came a familiar, slightly sheepish voice. "Ishikawa-san, right? Mayu?"

She blinked in surprise and turned. Tatsunori Otsuka.

Of course, she knew him. Everyone did. Young, loud, always smiling. He played for Allianz Milano now. And though they’d only ever exchanged polite greetings before, she knew he was her brother’s national team teammate. He was practically Yūki’s volleyball little brother.

"Otsuka-san," she greeted, bowing her head slightly, her usual polite reflex.

"You can call me Tatsu," he grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. "It’s okay."

She hesitated, then softly repeated, "Tatsu."

He lit up like she’d just awarded him a gold medal.

"Are you… okay sitting here alone?" he asked, glancing at the group, then back at her. "Looks a bit boring over here."

Mayu lowered her gaze, the edge of a smile tugging at her lips. "I just… I’m not good with these kinds of parties."

"Me neither." He grinned, leaning his elbows on the table, lowering his voice like they were sharing a secret. "I mean, I seem like I like them. But actually, I get super awkward."

She raised an eyebrow. "But you’re always… loud. And funny."

"Survival tactic," he whispered, hand half-covering his mouth like he was confessing a crime. "I’m loud so people think I’m okay."

Mayu laughed, quietly at first, then a little more as she realized he was being completely honest.

"Why are you sitting here then? Shouldn’t you be entertaining your team?" she teased, surprising herself with the lightness in her tone.

Tatsu shrugged. "I saw you here and thought, maybe you could save me from pretending to be the loud guy for a bit."

"Save you?"

"Yeah. I figured you’re not pretending. You’re just honestly sitting here, and that’s kinda… nice."

Her laugh bubbled again, soft but real.

For the next hour, they sat and talked. It started awkwardly—what position she likes best, which city in Italy she liked most—but soon shifted into playful stories. Tatsu told her about his rookie mistakes on the National Team, about how Yūki sometimes ignored his messages for days but would magically show up to scold him the moment he slipped on court.

Mayu found herself laughing at his impressions of her brother—Tatsu nailed Yūki’s stoic face and crossed arms perfectly.

"He doesn’t even need to say anything," Tatsu said, eyes wide, shoulders pulled back in a fake Yūki stance. "He just looks at me like this and I immediately start apologizing."

"That’s so true," Mayu giggled, her hand covering her mouth.

"Right?! I knew you’d understand."

Her teammates noticed and smiled from afar. The usually reserved Mayu was laughing so freely tonight.

One of her friends nudged her, passing her a small glass. "Come on, Mayu, try this! Just a little sip. It’s light."

She hesitated, but they all encouraged her, so she finally took a careful sip.

It wasn’t bad. Sweet, actually.

A few more sips followed.

She wasn’t drunk—far from it—but her cheeks glowed warmer, and her giggles came easier now.

Tatsu watched her carefully. He didn’t drink; he never really enjoyed it. And besides, before he sat down earlier, he’d quickly messaged Yūki.

Tatsu: Hey, I’m with your sister. She’s kinda alone here. Gonna sit with her. Yūki: Good. Watch her. Tatsu: Eh? Yūki: She’s shy. Make sure she’s okay. Tatsu: Got it, Onii-san 😂

So Tatsu kept watch, never straying too far from her side.

When Mayu’s teammates started drifting toward the dance floor area and the music got louder, she hesitated.

"Do you want to join them?" Tatsu asked.

She shook her head, a little embarrassed. "I’m not good at dancing."

"Me neither," he grinned. "I just end up clapping on the side."

"You’re lying," she smirked.

"Okay, fine, I’m a great clapper. Best in the league."

She laughed again, shaking her head.

They sat a little longer, until it was time to head back.

Tatsu offered to walk her to the pick-up point, just to make sure she was okay. She didn’t drink much, but the air was cold, and she looked a little dazed.

"Thanks for sitting with me," she said quietly as they walked.

"Thanks for saving me from being the loud guy," he replied, kicking a small rock along the path.

"Do you always do that? Hide like that?"

Tatsu paused, then shrugged. "Sometimes. But tonight was easy. You’re easy to talk to, Mayu."

Her steps faltered briefly at the sound of her name from him, but she kept walking.

"You too, Tatsu."

When they reached her bus, he opened the door for her like a gentleman—playfully exaggerating the gesture. She rolled her eyes but smiled.

As she stepped in, he casually called out, "Hey, by the way. Next time, you can sit alone again. I’ll just, you know… accidentally sit with you again."

Mayu chuckled, finally meeting his eyes. "I think I’d like that."

His grin widened.

Yuki Ishikawa leaned back against the seat of his car, staring at the arena where his sister, Mayu, would be competing tomorrow. His grip on the steering wheel tightened as he remembered his own match months ago—the pain of losing in the Coppa Italia still fresh. He had never liked losing, but what haunted him more was the aftermath. The silence. The feeling of being alone with nothing but disappointment.

And now, it was Mayu’s turn.

Novara was up against one of the strongest teams in the league. Everyone knew it was going to be a brutal match. Mayu would act tough, as she always did, laughing and joking around with her teammates, but Yuki knew better. She was a crybaby when it came to losing. She wouldn’t let anyone see, but she would cry—alone.

He ran a hand through his hair, sighing.

Mayu was used to him being distant. He had never been the best brother, too caught up in his own career to really be there for her. It wasn’t like he didn’t care—he just didn’t know how to show it.

But this time, he didn’t want her to go through it alone.

So, without telling her, Yuki had driven all the way to Novara, arriving the night before her match. He had no idea what he would say to her. Maybe he didn’t need to say anything. Just being there would be enough.

—

The next evening, he sat in the stands, cap pulled low over his face. The match was intense, every rally stretching longer than expected. Mayu was playing well—better than he had seen in a long time—but the other team was relentless. By the final set, Novara was falling behind. And then it was over.

Mayu stood frozen for a moment before forcing a smile, shaking hands with the opposing team. Yuki knew that smile. It was the same one he had worn months ago.

Instead of heading straight for the exit like he usually would, he made his way down to the hallway leading to Novara’s locker room. Players passed by him, some chatting, others silent. When Mayu finally appeared, she was alone.

She hadn’t noticed him yet, her head down, eyes red-rimmed. She was crying.

Yuki exhaled. So predictable.

He stepped forward. “Mayu.”

She jumped, eyes widening as she looked up at him. “Yuki?” She quickly wiped her face. “What are you doing here?”

He hesitated before shrugging. “Just passing by.”

Mayu let out a weak laugh. “Liar.”

She tried to put on a brave face, but Yuki could see the exhaustion, the frustration, the way her fingers clenched around her towel. He reached out, hesitated, then awkwardly patted her head. It was stiff and unnatural, but Mayu froze at the contact.

He sighed. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

For a moment, she just stared at him. Then, without warning, she stepped forward and buried her face against his chest. “I really wanted to win,” she mumbled, her voice muffled.

Yuki stiffened. He wasn’t used to this—comforting, being needed. But slowly, he raised a hand and patted her back.

“I know.”

She sniffled. “But I lost.”

“So?” His voice was quieter now. “It’s not the end.”

Mayu clutched his jacket. “I hate losing.”

He let out a dry chuckle. “I know that, too.”

The echo of your footsteps against the cold tile floors of the apartment you were supposed to share with Yuki felt heavier than the suitcase he had carried out the door this morning. The small one-bedroom space was everything you had dreamed of together—from the light grey couch you picked out after an argument over its practicality, to the bookshelf he promised to fill with his favorite novels when he had the time. Now, the silence swallowed you whole, each object a ghost of the life you were supposed to build together.

You had met Yuki Ishikawa in high school, the boy with the bright smile and the endless energy who could spike a volleyball like he was born for it. Back then, his dreams of going pro were just that—dreams. But you believed in him. How could you not? His passion was infectious, his determination unyielding. By the time you both graduated, it felt natural to build plans around each other—college together, careers in the same city, and eventually, this very apartment.

For years, you balanced your worlds. You watched every game he played, cheered from the stands until your throat was raw, and crammed late-night study sessions between practice schedules. Yuki was always grateful, always promising he would make it worth it. And he did, in his own way. The little love notes in your textbooks, the dinners he tried his best to cook, the way he held you close after a long day—all of it spoke to the life you were building.

Then, Italy happened.

The offer came at the end of his senior year of college. A professional volleyball team—one of the best in Europe—wanted him to join their roster. It was the culmination of everything he had worked for. You remember the way his face lit up when he told you, how he pulled you into his arms and spun you around the room. He spoke of new challenges, new heights, and how he wanted to make you proud. And you were proud. But beneath the pride was a seed of dread.

The first time his manager reached out to you, you thought it was a mistake. Sitting across from a polished man in an immaculate suit, you felt out of place. “Yuki has potential,” he began, his voice calm but calculating. “He’s dedicated, but distractions can derail even the most promising careers. You understand that, don’t you?”

You didn’t answer right away, but he took your silence as agreement. He leaned forward, his tone softening. “I’m not saying he doesn’t love you. It’s clear that he does. But long-distance relationships are… complicated. They demand energy and time that he needs to focus on his career. If you truly want him to succeed, perhaps the kindest thing you can do is let him go.”

That night, you lay awake in the bed you still shared, Yuki’s arm draped over your waist, his steady breathing a comfort and a curse. You stared at the ceiling, replaying the manager’s words over and over. You hated him for planting that doubt in your mind, but deep down, you knew he wasn’t wrong. Yuki’s dreams were bigger than anything the two of you had planned, and who were you to hold him back?

The day before his flight to Italy, you asked him to meet you at the apartment. He arrived with his usual smile, the one that made your heart ache, and a bag of your favorite pastries. You tried to memorize every detail—the way his hair curled slightly at the ends, the callouses on his hands, the way he always tilted his head when he looked at you like you were the only person in the world.

“What’s up?” he asked, setting the pastries on the counter. “You’ve been quiet lately.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “Yuki, I think we need to break up.”

His smile faltered, confusion clouding his features. “What? Where is this coming from? We talked about this. We’ll make long-distance work.”

“I know we talked about it,” you said, your voice trembling. “But it’s not fair to you. You have a chance to chase your dream without anything holding you back. I don’t want to be the reason you hesitate, even for a second.”

“You’re not holding me back,” he insisted, stepping closer. “You’ve always supported me. Why would that change now?”

“Because it’s different now,” you whispered, tears spilling over despite your best efforts. “You’ll be in a new country, a new league. You’ll need to focus, Yuki. And I can’t… I can’t be the one keeping you tied to something here.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, the weight of your words sinking in. Then, his shoulders slumped, and he let out a shaky breath. “Is this really what you want?”

“No,” you admitted, your voice breaking. “But it’s what you need.”

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. He didn’t fight you, but the hurt in his eyes was worse than any argument could have been. When he finally left, the apartment felt impossibly empty.

In the months that followed, you threw yourself into work, trying to fill the void he left behind. The apartment became both a sanctuary and a prison, a constant reminder of what could have been. You kept the furniture, the decorations, even the bookshelf he never got to fill. It was your way of holding on, even as you told yourself you had to let go.

Yuki’s career flourished. You saw the headlines, the highlight reels, the interviews where he spoke about his love for the game. He looked happy. That should have been enough. But some nights, you still found yourself sitting on that grey couch, clutching one of his old sweatshirts, and wondering if he ever thought about the life you had planned together.

Her POV

They say you shouldn’t risk a friendship for uncertain feelings, but I did. I crossed that invisible line, hoping for more, knowing deep down rejection was likely. And it came—expected, yes, but still painful. What stung even more wasn’t his words but the silence that followed, the agonizing wait, the feeling of being left adrift with no closure, no finality.

I lost him that day—not just the hope of love, but the precious friendship we had built over the years. I regretted it deeply, realizing far too late that my fleeting feelings had cost me someone irreplaceable.

Years passed, and life went on, but the ache of that loss lingered. Then, one ordinary day, we crossed paths again. It was an unexpected reunion, surrounded by mutual friends who filled the awkward silences with laughter and lightness. Despite the smiles and casual talk, I felt the weight of our unresolved past hanging in the air.

As the night wound down and I prepared to head home, he surprised me by offering to wait with me for a jeepney. I hesitated but agreed, curious yet anxious about what might unfold. As we stood there, the city lights casting faint shadows on our faces, he spoke.

“Are we okay now?” he asked softly. “No more hard feelings?”

His sincerity caught me off guard. He asked about my life—my work, my mental health. He even gave me advice, reminding me not to give too much of myself to others. It was unexpected, kind, and so very him.

In that moment, I realized this was the closure I had longed for but never thought I’d receive. It felt surreal, like a scene plucked from a drama I’d seen countless times, but this was real. This was us.

We stood side by side, the silence between us now comfortable, no longer heavy with unspoken words. Awkward, yes, but also healing. And as the jeepney finally arrived, I knew we had both let go of the past.

That night, I walked away with a lighter heart, grateful for a bittersweet memory I would treasure forever. It wasn’t the ending I had dreamed of, but it was the one we both needed.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

His POV

They say you shouldn’t risk the friendship for uncertain feelings, but I never thought she’d take that risk with me. When she confessed, I didn’t know what to say at first. It wasn’t that I didn’t care about her—she was one of my closest friends. But love? That wasn’t something I could give her, not the way she wanted.

I tried to be careful with my words, knowing rejection hurts, but I also knew nothing could make it easier. I thought I’d handled it well enough, but looking back, I see my mistake. I left her hanging, unsure, and waiting for answers I couldn’t give.

After that, things weren’t the same. The friendship we’d built slowly unraveled. We stopped talking. I told myself it was better this way, but deep down, I missed her. She had been a part of my life I didn’t think I’d lose, yet I let it happen.

Years passed, and I thought about her less. Time has a way of dulling regrets, or so I believed. Then one night, out of nowhere, we saw each other again. It was a small gathering, just friends catching up, but there she was—smiling, laughing, as if the weight of the past didn’t press on her like it did on me.

At first, it was awkward. We barely spoke to each other, sticking to the group conversations. But as the night went on, the mood lightened. Our friends kept the atmosphere easy, and I started to see glimpses of the person I used to know so well.

When she said she was heading home, something pushed me to act. “Let me wait with you,” I offered. She looked surprised but nodded.

We stood by the roadside, the hum of the city filling the silence. I wasn’t sure where to start, but I knew I couldn’t let this moment pass.

“Are we okay now?” I asked, my voice low but steady. “No more hard feelings?”

She paused, then nodded again, offering me a small, hesitant smile. That was all I needed to finally say the things I’d kept inside for years. I asked about her life, her work, her well-being. She seemed surprised I cared, but I always had.

“Don’t forget to take care of yourself,” I added. “It’s easy to lose yourself when you’re always giving to others.”

Her eyes softened, and for the first time that night, I felt like we understood each other again. The past didn’t seem so heavy anymore.

As we waited for her ride, I realized this was closure—not just for her, but for me too. I couldn’t give her what she wanted back then, but maybe this was something we both needed. A chance to finally let go.

When the jeepney arrived, she turned to me with a quiet thank-you. I watched her leave, feeling lighter than I had in years. It wasn’t the way I’d imagined reconnecting with her, but it was enough.

He leaned back on his couch, remote in hand, pausing the screen at the moment Mayu lifted her trophy. It was a strange bond they shared—supporting each other from afar. They rarely spoke in person due to their demanding careers, but Yuki silently followed her progress, checking her stats after every game. He admired her resilience and dedication, though he would never admit it outright.

As he stretched his legs and began tidying up for the night, the sharp sound of the doorbell broke the silence. His brow furrowed in confusion; it was late, and he wasn’t expecting anyone. Tossing a towel over his shoulder, he walked to the door, unlocking it cautiously.

To his surprise, Mayu stood there, her duffel bag slung over one shoulder and a shy smile on her face.

“Mayu?” Yuki blinked, caught off guard. “What are you doing here?”

“Hey,” she said casually, though her cheeks were slightly flushed. “I was in the area, and… well, I figured I’d drop by. You’re not busy, are you?”

“Busy? No, I just…” Yuki glanced back at the television, where the paused image of Mayu still glowed on the screen. He coughed, trying to play it cool. “Uh, come in.”

Mayu stepped inside, slipping off her sneakers and looking around. “Nice place,” she said, setting her bag down. “So, are you going to offer me anything, or do I have to raid your fridge?”

Yuki rolled his eyes but headed to the kitchen. “What are you really doing here, Mayu? It’s not like you to show up unannounced.”

“I wanted to watch your game tomorrow,” she said simply, leaning against the counter. “You’re playing against your old team, right? Tatsunori’s on that squad now.”

Yuki’s hand froze mid-reach for the cupboard. “You came all this way just to watch that?”

Mayu shrugged. “It’s a big game for you. And since I’m close by for once, I thought… why not?”

Yuki didn’t reply immediately, focusing instead on pouring two glasses of water. He handed one to her, his expression unreadable. “Well, it’s not exactly a rivalry or anything. Tatsunori and I are still on good terms.”

“That’s not the point,” Mayu said, narrowing her eyes at him. “I don’t get to watch you play live very often. I thought it’d be nice. Or is that a problem?”

“No, it’s not,” Yuki said quickly, though he still seemed flustered. “It’s just… unexpected. You’ve never done this before.”

Mayu rolled her eyes, plopping down onto the couch. Her gaze flickered to the television, and her jaw dropped when she saw herself frozen on the screen, trophy in hand. “Wait a second… were you watching my game?”

Yuki scratched the back of his neck, feeling cornered. “I… might have been.”

She raised an eyebrow, a teasing smirk forming. “Wow, I didn’t know you were such a fan.”

“Don’t get cocky,” Yuki muttered, sitting on the armchair opposite her. “It was a good game. You deserved the award.”

The room fell into a comfortable silence for a moment before Mayu broke it. “Thanks, Yuki. That… means a lot.”

He glanced at her, surprised by the softness in her voice. “Yeah, well, don’t let it get to your head.”

They spent the rest of the evening catching up, something they rarely had time for. Mayu talked about her team’s upcoming matches, while Yuki shared some insights about his own training and the challenges of playing against his former teammates. It was awkward at first, but as the night went on, their conversation grew more natural, peppered with the occasional sarcastic remark or sibling jab.

Later, as Mayu settled into the guest room, she called out from the hallway, “Hey, Yuki?”

“Yeah?” he replied from his room.

“Good luck tomorrow,” she said. “I’ll be cheering for you.”

A small smile tugged at his lips. “Thanks, Mayu. Get some rest.”

As he turned off the lights, Yuki couldn’t help but feel a warmth in his chest. Their relationship might have been distant and awkward at times, but moments like this reminded him of the unspoken bond they shared—a bond forged not just by blood, but by mutual respect and quiet support.

The morning arrived sooner than expected, sunlight streaming through the blinds of Yuki’s apartment. He woke up to the faint sound of pots clinking in the kitchen. It was a rare and unfamiliar noise—his mornings were usually quiet, filled only with his thoughts or the occasional podcast. Throwing on a hoodie, he padded out to find Mayu in the kitchen, fumbling with a frying pan.

“What… are you doing?” Yuki asked, leaning against the doorway.

Mayu turned around with a sheepish grin. “Attempting to make breakfast. Don’t get your hopes up—I’m still figuring it out.”

Yuki smirked, crossing his arms. “I’m surprised you’re even trying. I thought the only thing you knew how to make was instant ramen.”

“Hey!” she retorted, flipping an egg that landed messily on the edge of the pan. “I can make... other stuff too. Like burnt toast.”

Yuki laughed, shaking his head. “Move over before you set the place on fire.”

He took over the stove, efficiently making scrambled eggs and toast while Mayu leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “You’re oddly domestic for someone who lives alone,” she said, smirking.

“Just because I don’t make a mess everywhere like you doesn’t mean I can’t cook,” he replied, sliding a plate toward her.

As they sat at the small dining table, a comfortable silence settled over them, broken only by the occasional clink of forks on plates. It felt oddly normal—like they’d done this a hundred times before, even though they hadn’t.

“So,” Mayu began, breaking the quiet, “how do you feel about today’s game?”

Yuki chewed thoughtfully before answering. “It’s just another game, really. Tatsunori knows my style, but I know his too. It’ll be interesting.”

“‘Just another game,’ huh?” Mayu said, raising an eyebrow. “You always downplay everything.”

“It’s true,” he said with a shrug. “What about you? When’s your next match?”

“Day after tomorrow,” she said. “Coach gave us a light schedule after yesterday’s win, so I have time.”

Yuki nodded, finishing his coffee. “You should probably head to the arena early if you want good seats.”

“Already got tickets,” Mayu said, smirking. “Front row.”

“Of course you did,” he muttered, shaking his head.

---

The arena was buzzing with energy as Yuki stepped onto the court for warmups. The crowd was alive with cheers and chatter, but he found himself glancing toward the stands. Sure enough, there she was—Mayu, seated in the front row, her arms folded as she watched intently. She wasn’t the type to hold up signs or shout encouragement, but her presence was enough.

Tatsunori, warming up on the opposing side, caught sight of Yuki and jogged over. “I see you brought a guest,” he teased, nodding toward Mayu. “Nice to see her in person for once. She’s as competitive as you, huh?”

Yuki smirked. “Don’t let her quiet demeanor fool you. She’s tougher than she looks.”

As the game began, Yuki found himself more focused than usual. Knowing Mayu was there added a layer of pressure, but it also fueled him. Every spike, every block, every dive—he played with precision and determination. Tatsunori, as expected, was a formidable opponent, but Yuki held his own, leading his team through tight sets.

During a particularly intense rally in the third set, Yuki executed a powerful spike that sealed the point. The crowd erupted, and for a brief moment, he glanced at Mayu. She didn’t cheer loudly like the others but gave him a subtle nod of approval, a small smile playing on her lips.

By the end of the match, Yuki’s team emerged victorious. As he walked off the court, sweat-soaked and exhausted, he saw Mayu waiting near the tunnel.

“Not bad,” she said, handing him a water bottle. “I guess you can still hold your own.”

“Coming from you, I’ll take that as high praise,” he replied, smirking. “Enjoy the game?”

“Yeah,” she admitted, looking away as if embarrassed. “It was good to see you in action. You’ve improved.”

They walked out of the arena together, the night air cool against their skin. “You know,” Yuki said after a moment, “you didn’t have to come all this way.”

Mayu shrugged, her expression softening. “I wanted to. I know we don’t see each other much, and… I thought it’d be nice.”

Yuki glanced at her, his usual stoic demeanor softening. “It was. Thanks for coming.”

The team was buzzing with excitement as they stepped up to the wildly spinning Disco Pang Pang platform. Yuki Ishikawa, the ever-stoic captain, joined his teammates, his expression a mix of reluctance and mild amusement at his teammates’ antics.

Just as they settled into their seats, the ride moderator, known for his quirky humor, called out, “So, any of you brave guys here looking to set up with a girl today?”

Without a second's hesitation, every finger pointed at Yuki.

The usually composed Yuki's eyebrows raised in mild surprise, caught off guard by the unified teasing. His teammates were chuckling, clearly delighted to put their captain on the spot. But before Yuki could roll his eyes and brush them off, the moderator scanned the seats and grinned.

“There!” he pointed to a girl just across from their row, clearly there with her friends, and visibly not expecting to become part of the show. Her cheeks flushed as her eyes met Yuki’s from across the platform, caught in the moment by all the attention.

“All right, let’s get this started!” the moderator called, and the ride began to spin.

The Disco Pang Pang moved slowly at first, the platform twisting and tilting, each small bounce sending squeals and laughter through the air. The girl glanced nervously at Yuki, clinging to her seat. But as the ride’s speed suddenly ramped up, she lost her grip.

With a small scream, she flew up from her seat—straight towards the section where Yuki and his teammates were seated.

Quick as lightning, Yuki’s reflexes kicked in. He reached out and caught her mid-air, his strong arm wrapping around her shoulders to steady her. His stoic expression softened, and he whispered, “I’ve got you. Don’t worry.”

Blushing, the girl looked up at him, momentarily captivated by the intensity of his gaze. The position was so close that she could practically feel his heartbeat against hers.

Just as they both regained their balance, the moderator, clearly relishing the unexpected romance, decided to add an extra bounce to the ride. The platform jerked even harder, sending Yuki and the girl colliding into each other. Yuki instinctively held her tighter, and their foreheads almost touched. She held her breath, feeling the warmth of his embrace and the strength of his hold as he kept her safe from the chaotic movement of the ride.

His teammates were roaring with laughter, cheering him on, and tossing teases that blended into the ride’s booming music. Yuki, unfazed, focused solely on keeping the girl safe, his stoic demeanor slightly cracked by the rare hint of a grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

By the time the ride slowed down, the girl looked up, her face glowing with a mixture of relief and exhilaration. “Thank you,” she breathed, a little sheepish.

Yuki finally released her but met her gaze one last time with a small nod. “Anytime.”

As they both climbed off the ride, the team continued their relentless teasing, clapping Yuki on the back and chanting, “Captain’s got himself a Disco Pang Pang date!” But for once, Yuki didn’t mind. He cast a brief glance back at the girl, who waved at him with a shy smile.

As he walked away with his teammates, he found himself thinking that maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t mind another unexpected moment like that.

The team’s laughter echoed as they walked away, ribbing Yuki about his newfound "Disco Pang Pang destiny." Yuki tried to keep his face as neutral as ever, but there was a slight flush on his cheeks that he couldn’t quite hide. Every now and then, he’d glance back, almost expecting to see her watching them.

To his surprise, she was. The girl stood near the entrance of the ride, hesitating as if wondering whether to approach or let the moment stay as a fleeting memory. One of Yuki’s teammates, Yuji Nishida, nudged him. “Hey, Captain, she’s looking right at you. Don’t let her get away!”

Before he could brush it off, another teammate, Ran Takahashi, chimed in with a mischievous grin. “You literally held her in your arms, man! Go talk to her before she changes her mind.”

Yuki exhaled, feigning reluctance, but as he turned to walk over, he felt a rare flicker of nervous excitement. As he got closer, she smiled and gave a small, shy wave.

“Hey,” he said, his deep voice softened slightly. “I hope you’re okay. I didn’t mean to hold you hostage on the ride,” he added, half-joking.

She laughed, the sound clear and warm. “Trust me, I’m grateful you did. I thought I’d end up bouncing around like a ping-pong ball!” She looked down, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Thanks again for, well… catching me. Twice, actually.”

“Don’t mention it,” Yuki replied, the ghost of a smile breaking his usually stoic expression.

They stood there for a beat, the noise of the amusement park around them almost fading into the background. She shifted her weight, finally working up the nerve. “So… since you saved me from a bruising ride, maybe I can buy you a coffee or something? It’s the least I could do.”

Yuki’s teammates, who were watching from afar, could hardly contain themselves, waving and making goofy faces to silently encourage him. He cleared his throat, willing himself to ignore them. “I think I’d like that,” he replied, his gaze holding hers.

As they walked toward a nearby café, Yuki found himself relaxing in her presence, and soon they were swapping stories—about the ridiculous antics of his teammates, her embarrassing moment on the ride, and little glimpses into each other’s lives.

“So,” she said, leaning forward, “do you always go along with your teammates’ plans to throw you into these kinds of situations?”

Yuki chuckled, something his teammates would have been shocked to see. “Not always. But sometimes they come up with good ideas.” He looked at her meaningfully, his calm gaze conveying more than he intended.

After coffee, as they strolled back toward the rest of the team, she turned to him. “Well, thanks for today. Who knew a crazy ride could lead to… this?” She gave a shy laugh, looking down.

Yuki nodded. “Unexpected, but not unwelcome.”

Just as they reached the team, his teammates were grinning like they’d just won a tournament. Yuji elbowed him, feigning a serious look. “So, Captain, any plans to return to Disco Pang Pang with your new friend here?”

The girl laughed, catching Yuki’s slightly embarrassed expression. “Actually,” she said with a glint in her eye, “if I ever go back on that ride, I’m making sure to sit right next to him.”

Belle’s elementary classroom was buzzing with excitement that morning. She had planned a special activity to inspire her students: each child would write a letter to a Japanese athlete, thanking them for their efforts in the Olympics. She smiled as she watched them, fingers gripping pencils, concentrating hard to put their feelings into words. Belle herself had felt inspired to write one too, after witnessing how much heart the athletes poured into their performances. Sitting at her desk, she thought about the volleyball team and how tirelessly they played. She decided to write a note of encouragement, hoping it might lift the spirits of a player who might need it.

Meanwhile, in Italy, Yuki Ishikawa was struggling. The team’s Olympic journey had ended sooner than he’d hoped, and the weight of his disappointment hung heavily on him. He barely noticed as his teammates gathered around during a training break, each holding colorful letters sent by fans. He was about to look away when his teammate Akihiro nudged him.

“Hey, Yuki! This one’s for you,” Akihiro said, grinning as he handed him an envelope. “No kid’s drawing, though. It’s all words—must be from an adult.”

Yuki opened it, feeling curious. Inside was a neatly handwritten letter that began with, “Dear Athlete…”

Belle’s words were simple but filled with heart, talking about how inspiring his journey had been, and how proud everyone was of his dedication, regardless of the outcome. She encouraged him to keep going, to remember the joy of playing, and to hold his head high. She thanked him for showing children all over Japan the beauty of resilience.

The letter left Yuki speechless. It felt different, genuine, and it resonated in a way no other fan letter had before. He couldn’t help but read it over and over that evening. Inspired, he decided to write back, penning a short but heartfelt thank-you letter. He left it unsigned, wondering if the mystery might make it more intriguing for his kind writer.

Belle’s curiosity piqued when she received the letter a week later. There was no name, just a simple message: “Thank you for your letter. It meant more than you know.” She felt a warm glow as she read it and decided to keep the conversation going, intrigued by her unknown pen pal. Over the weeks that followed, they exchanged letters, sharing more personal stories—Belle about her love for teaching and Yuki about the ups and downs of being a professional athlete. He was careful to avoid giving away too much about himself, but Belle could feel the sincerity in every letter.

As the letters continued, Belle found herself growing fond of her anonymous correspondent. His words became the highlight of her week, and she wondered more and more about who this person could be. Yuki, too, felt an unexpected spark every time he received her letters. In a way, her words had become a source of strength and comfort for him.

Then one evening, after another long practice, Yuki found himself staring at her latest letter, feeling a surge of courage. He wanted to meet her, to let her know how much her words had helped him through a difficult time. Without overthinking, he booked a flight to Japan, deciding he’d visit her school in person.

Two days later, Belle was in the middle of her class when she heard a gentle knock on her door. Glancing up, she saw a tall, athletic figure standing outside. She blinked in surprise as her eyes adjusted—wasn’t that Yuki Ishikawa, the volleyball player? Her mind raced as she walked to the door, wondering what on earth he was doing at her school.

“Belle-sensei?” he asked, his voice warm but slightly hesitant.

Belle managed a nod, still too stunned to speak.

Yuki smiled, holding out an envelope. “I’m here to thank you for your letters.”

Realization dawned on her, and she clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with shock. “You…you’re the one I’ve been writing to?”

He chuckled, a hint of nervousness in his gaze. “Yes. You have no idea how much your words meant to me.” His voice softened. “They came at just the right time, and I don’t know if I could have gotten through that period without them.”

Belle felt her heart racing. She’d written that first letter with a stranger in mind, not imagining in her wildest dreams that it would reach someone as well-known as Yuki Ishikawa.

“Oh… I… I didn’t know my words would reach you,” she stammered, a blush creeping up her cheeks. “I’m just…really honored.”

Her students, curious about the visitor, began whispering excitedly. One of them finally asked, “Sensei, who’s that?”

Belle gave them a warm smile, introducing him. “This is Yuki Ishikawa, a volleyball player who represented Japan in the Olympics!”

The kids gasped and crowded around, bombarding him with questions. Yuki knelt down, laughing as he answered each one, his natural charm winning them over. Belle watched with a smile, touched by how warmly he interacted with her students.

Once the kids returned to their seats, Yuki turned back to Belle. “I know this might be sudden, but…would you like to go out for coffee? I’d love to hear more about what inspired you to write that letter.”

Belle smiled, feeling a spark of excitement. “I’d love that.”

They spent the afternoon at a cozy café, talking for hours. They found themselves sharing stories, laughing at little anecdotes, and realizing how much they had in common. Yuki was drawn to Belle’s genuine kindness and her passion for teaching, while Belle admired Yuki’s dedication and resilience.

At the end of their coffee date, Yuki hesitated, gathering his courage. “I’ll be here in Japan for a few more days… If you’re free, maybe we could meet up again?”

Belle’s smile grew. “I’d like that.”

Over the next few days, they explored the city, visited parks, and even attended a volleyball game together. Their connection deepened with each passing moment, and by the time Yuki’s departure day arrived, it was clear they shared something special.

As they stood at the airport, Yuki took her hand, his gaze tender. “Belle, meeting you has been the best part of coming back to Japan. You’ve given me so much strength…and something to look forward to.”

Belle squeezed his hand, her heart swelling with emotion. “You’ve brought a lot of joy into my life too, Yuki. I didn’t expect a letter to lead to…all of this.” She smiled softly. “Let’s keep in touch, okay?”

Yuki leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Definitely. And maybe next time, it’ll be you visiting me in Italy.”

You weren’t exactly a volleyball fan. But with a five-hour flight delay and nothing else to do, the buzz of a nearby stadium in Italy had called to you. Tickets were cheap, and the crowd’s energy was contagious, so you decided to go for it.

Settling into a seat, you watched as two teams warmed up on the court. Most players looked Italian, except for one player whose focused expression and fluid movements captured your attention—a Japanese man with sharp eyes, exuding both grace and strength as he spiked the ball. You found yourself watching him, your interest piqued.

The game kicked off, and you were drawn into the rhythm, watching this mystery player dominate the court. But then, suddenly, the action zoomed in on you in the worst way possible. With a deafening smack, the volleyball—his spike—struck you straight on the head. Darkness overtook your vision.

When you opened your eyes, you found yourself lying on a crisp hospital bed, the ceiling lights casting a soft glow around the room. Panic gripped you as you remembered your flight. You shot up, quickly checking your phone only to see that the flight had already departed.

"Oh no, no, no!" you muttered, rubbing your forehead and trying to piece together what had just happened.

A gentle knock on the door drew your attention. You turned and there he was—the mystery man, the volleyball player. Tall and athletic, his face softened with genuine concern.

“I’m so sorry about earlier.” He bowed slightly, his voice steady yet apologetic. “I’m Yuki Ishikawa. I didn’t mean to… uh… knock you out.”

“Oh! Um, it’s okay, I guess?” you replied, feeling your face heat up from embarrassment. "I didn’t even know volleyballs could be that... lethal."

Yuki looked away, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Well, that spike was meant for the court… not a fan in the stands.”

You gave a nervous laugh. “To be honest, I didn’t even know who you were. I was just... killing time.”

He chuckled, amused. “Then I guess you’ll never forget me now.”

The humor melted away as you remembered your missed flight. “Well, speaking of unforgettable… I just missed my flight back to Japan because of… that.” You gestured weakly toward him, regretting the sour turn in the conversation.

Yuki’s expression shifted, his concern deepening. “I feel responsible. Is there anything I can do?”

“Only if you can get me another ticket!” you replied, attempting to rebook on your phone. “Everything’s fully booked, and the earliest I can get is two days from now.”

You sighed, realizing you had already checked out of your hotel. The mere thought of staying at the airport for two days made you wince.

Yuki seemed to read your expression. “I know it might seem forward, but if you’re okay with it, you could stay at my apartment. I mean, it’s the least I can offer after... what happened.”

Your mind raced with mixed feelings. You didn’t even know this guy, and yet, here he was, a famous athlete offering you his place for the next two days. After a moment of hesitation, you nodded, realizing you didn’t have any better options.

“Thank you, Yuki. This is... really generous of you.”

Title: Love at First Spike

You weren’t exactly a volleyball fan. But with a five-hour flight delay and nothing else to do, the buzz of a nearby stadium in Italy had called to you. Tickets were cheap, and the crowd’s energy was contagious, so you decided to go for it.

Settling into a seat, you watched as two teams warmed up on the court. Most players looked Italian, except for one player whose focused expression and fluid movements captured your attention—a Japanese man with sharp eyes, exuding both grace and strength as he spiked the ball. You found yourself watching him, your interest piqued.

The game kicked off, and you were drawn into the rhythm, watching this mystery player dominate the court. But then, suddenly, the action zoomed in on you in the worst way possible. With a deafening smack, the volleyball—his spike—struck you straight on the head. Darkness overtook your vision.

When you opened your eyes, you found yourself lying on a crisp hospital bed, the ceiling lights casting a soft glow around the room. Panic gripped you as you remembered your flight. You shot up, quickly checking your phone only to see that the flight had already departed.

"Oh no, no, no!" you muttered, rubbing your forehead and trying to piece together what had just happened.

A gentle knock on the door drew your attention. You turned and there he was—the mystery man, the volleyball player. Tall and athletic, his face softened with genuine concern.

“I’m so sorry about earlier.” He bowed slightly, his voice steady yet apologetic. “I’m Yuki Ishikawa. I didn’t mean to… uh… knock you out.”

“Oh! Um, it’s okay, I guess?” you replied, feeling your face heat up from embarrassment. "I didn’t even know volleyballs could be that... lethal."

Yuki looked away, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Well, that spike was meant for the court… not a fan in the stands.”

You gave a nervous laugh. “To be honest, I didn’t even know who you were. I was just... killing time.”

He chuckled, amused. “Then I guess you’ll never forget me now.”

The humor melted away as you remembered your missed flight. “Well, speaking of unforgettable… I just missed my flight back to Japan because of… that.” You gestured weakly toward him, regretting the sour turn in the conversation.

Yuki’s expression shifted, his concern deepening. “I feel responsible. Is there anything I can do?”

“Only if you can get me another ticket!” you replied, attempting to rebook on your phone. “Everything’s fully booked, and the earliest I can get is two days from now.”

You sighed, realizing you had already checked out of your hotel. The mere thought of staying at the airport for two days made you wince.

Yuki seemed to read your expression. “I know it might seem forward, but if you’re okay with it, you could stay at my apartment. I mean, it’s the least I can offer after... what happened.”

Your mind raced with mixed feelings. You didn’t even know this guy, and yet, here he was, a famous athlete offering you his place for the next two days. After a moment of hesitation, you nodded, realizing you didn’t have any better options.

“Thank you, Yuki. This is... really generous of you.”

The drive to Yuki’s apartment was surprisingly comfortable. He had a calm, quiet demeanor that put you at ease. You learned he had been playing volleyball in Italy for a few years and often missed home, just like you.

When you arrived, Yuki handed you a spare key and gave you a brief tour of the apartment. It was cozy, with minimalistic decor and a few personal touches—like family photos, awards, and, unsurprisingly, a volleyball on the couch.

“Make yourself at home,” he said. “The fridge is stocked, and feel free to use anything you need.”

You thanked him again and spent the evening exploring the place, trying to distract yourself from your delayed plans. By the time you went to bed, exhaustion had finally caught up with you.

The next morning, you woke to the faint sounds of sizzling in the kitchen. Yuki was making breakfast, wearing a simple t-shirt and sweatpants, his hair slightly messy from sleep. The casual, homey sight of him felt oddly intimate.

“Good morning,” he greeted you, motioning toward the kitchen counter. “I made coffee, and there are eggs and toast.”

“Wow, you didn’t have to do this.” You took a seat, feeling a warmth bloom in your chest at his kindness.

As you ate, conversation flowed more freely. You learned that Yuki was surprisingly down-to-earth despite his fame, and he shared stories about the volleyball matches and the places he’d visited.

As the days went by, you settled into a relaxed rhythm. Yuki took you around the city during his free time, showing you his favorite spots and giving you a taste of Italian culture. You couldn’t help but notice how attentive he was, always checking if you were comfortable, listening to you intently, and making sure you were having a good time.

On the evening before your new flight, the two of you shared dinner on his balcony, watching the city lights. There was a lull in the conversation, and Yuki suddenly turned toward you.

“I hope you’re not… upset about the whole situation. I mean, having to stay here with me and missing your flight…”

You shook your head, smiling softly. “Honestly? I feel like it was fate. I mean, who else can say they’ve been knocked out by a volleyball and ended up with a new friend?”

He looked at you, his expression serious yet warm. “Maybe more than just a friend.”

Your heart skipped a beat, caught off guard by his words and the way he held your gaze. Before you could respond, he leaned in slightly, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him.

“Is it too forward to say I’m glad we met this way?” he asked softly, his eyes searching yours.

You smiled, feeling a surge of courage. “Not at all. I’m glad too.”

Yuki’s smile widened, and he reached out, his hand finding yours in a gentle, steady grip. The city lights sparkled around you as the two of you sat there in comfortable silence, sharing a moment that felt destined, no matter how unusual the beginning.

And so, what began with a spike to the head blossomed into something entirely unexpected—a connection neither of you saw coming, but one that neither of you would ever forget.

"So, I know you’re free today, and… if you want, maybe you could come watch our training?” His tone was casual, but there was a sparkle of hope in his eyes. “I promise it’s not as dangerous as the last time you watched,” he added with a chuckle.

You laughed, unable to resist the lightness he brought to the situation. "Why not? I mean, I've already experienced the worst that can happen, right?"

Yuki grinned, and soon you found yourself standing in a bustling gym, surrounded by the hum of volleyballs hitting the court, players warming up, and coaches discussing strategies. It felt thrilling and unfamiliar, a glimpse into Yuki’s everyday world.

The moment his teammates noticed you with Yuki, they immediately went from serious players to nosy friends, sharing glances and grins, exchanging hushed whispers. One of the players, a tall man with curly hair and a wide smile, approached Yuki with an exaggerated wink.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” he said, looking between you and Yuki, his smile growing as he nudged Yuki playfully. “Did you bring your fan club with you today, Ishikawa?”

Yuki looked down, scratching the back of his head in slight embarrassment. “She’s… a friend from Japan,” he managed, glancing at you, his ears turning pink.

Another player joined in, this time a scruffy, energetic guy who gave Yuki a hearty pat on the back. “Since when does Ishikawa bring his ‘friends’ to practice?” He winked at you, making you smile. “Welcome to the team’s secret hangout spot,” he said. “And you’re the first ‘friend’ of Yuki’s we’ve ever seen here, by the way.”

You laughed, enjoying their friendly teasing. “Thank you for having me. I didn’t know I’d get such a VIP invitation!”

Yuki shot his teammates a warning look, though there was a hint of a smile there, too. “Alright, that’s enough. Let’s get started,” he muttered, shooing them back onto the court.

Despite the teasing, you could feel how the team adored Yuki and enjoyed messing with him in a way only close friends could. As practice started, Yuki shifted into a different mode, his expression calm and his movements precise. You were captivated watching him, not just for his skill but for the dedication and focus he displayed.

Every so often, he’d glance over, his gaze softening when he noticed you watching. When he’d make an impressive play, a few of his teammates would whistle or nudge each other, casting you knowing smiles as if trying to get you to notice his skill. It was impossible not to feel a bit of pride in his talent, even if you’d just met him days before.

Finally, during a break, a few of the teammates approached you.

“So, how did you two meet?” one of them asked with a mischievous grin.

You felt your cheeks warm. “Oh, you know, just a… memorable introduction,” you said with a laugh, glancing at Yuki.

Yuki, shaking his head with a smile, added, “Let’s just say my spike really left an impression.”

The teammates burst into laughter, some giving him high-fives and clapping him on the back. One of them patted your shoulder, a warm smile on his face. “Well, you’re a good sport for taking that hit like a champ—and for sticking around after.”

Before you knew it, the teasing and laughter made you feel like part of their circle, and Yuki’s teammates offered you sideline commentary as you watched the rest of their practice. You cheered Yuki on along with them, and for the first time in a long while, you felt a sense of belonging in this unexpected place, all thanks to a serendipitous spike to the head.

After practice, as Yuki gathered his things, he came up to you, his face glowing with a mixture of exhaustion and contentment. “Thanks for coming today. It was… nice having you here,” he said, his voice softer than usual.

“Thanks for inviting me,” you replied. “Your team’s amazing—and I can see why they’d give you a hard time about bringing me.”

Yuki laughed, rubbing his neck. “They’ll probably keep teasing me about this for months.”

You shrugged, teasing him back. “Maybe I’ll come back to keep the rumors going.”

He looked at you, his gaze tender and thoughtful. “You know, I wouldn’t mind that.”

As the day came to an end and you prepared for your flight the next morning, you knew this chance encounter had been something special. You’d come to Italy expecting nothing more than a flight delay, but instead, you were taking home a whirlwind of memories—and the feeling that this was only the beginning.

The drive to the airport was quiet, though it wasn’t exactly uncomfortable. It was more like an unspoken weight had settled between you and Yuki, as if both of you knew something important was drawing to a close but neither wanted to admit it.

As you glanced over, you caught Yuki’s profile, calm and collected, but there was a slight tension in his expression that you hadn’t seen before. He drove with one hand on the wheel, his other resting on the gearshift, fingers drumming lightly, almost as if he was holding back words he wanted to say.

Soon, the airport came into view, and with it, a pang of sadness you hadn’t anticipated. You hadn’t realized how much you’d grown to enjoy his company, the unexpected friendship you’d formed, and even the teasing camaraderie of his teammates. Part of you didn’t want to go back. But as your destination loomed closer, you also knew you didn’t really have a choice.

Yuki pulled up to the curb and parked, helping you with your bag. He looked down at you, his gaze soft, his usual composed expression melting into something warmer, yet slightly sad.

“Well,” he began, his voice a bit more subdued than usual, “I guess this is it.”

You nodded, trying to keep a steady tone. “Thank you, Yuki. For everything—for helping me and for… well, just making this whole experience more memorable.” You forced a smile, though you could feel your heart pounding, urging you to say something else, anything to make this moment last longer.

He opened his mouth as if to respond, then closed it, his gaze flickering to the ground. “It was… my pleasure,” he said finally. There was a flicker of something in his eyes, something he seemed hesitant to let you see, and it stirred something in you, a longing you didn’t want to ignore.

You took a shaky breath, deciding to take a risk, one you knew you might regret if you didn’t follow through. “Yuki…” you whispered, your heart racing as you stepped a bit closer, leaning up on your toes. Before you could second-guess yourself, you pressed a soft, quick kiss to his cheek, feeling his warmth under your lips.

But somehow, it didn’t feel like enough. Your heart pounding, you tilted your head, closing the distance, and brushed your lips gently against his. The kiss was light, but it held every feeling you’d been afraid to say out loud, an unspoken farewell wrapped in that fleeting touch.

Yuki froze, his eyes widening in shock as he tried to process what had just happened. His lips were still parted slightly as if he were about to say something, but no words came out. You pulled back, catching the stunned look on his face, and felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment and exhilaration.

Without a word, you turned and quickly made your way toward the airport entrance, fighting the urge to look back. You knew that if you did, you might not be able to leave. But just as you passed through the doors, you allowed yourself a quick glance over your shoulder.

Yuki was still standing there, staring after you, his hand raised halfway in a dazed wave, his expression both bewildered and touched. And in that instant, you knew he felt it too—the connection that had formed in just a short time.

Inside, as you approached your gate, your phone vibrated. You checked it and saw a new message from an unknown number. When you opened it, your heart skipped a beat.

“Have a safe flight, and… come back to Italy anytime. Maybe next time, you’ll stay longer. - Yuki”

A smile spread across your face, and you replied with a simple “Grazie.” Then, with your heart full and your thoughts lingering on him, you boarded your flight, a piece of Italy—and Yuki—tucked away with you.

Five months had passed since your whirlwind encounter with Yuki in Italy. Life had returned to its familiar pace, yet every so often, memories of those brief days with him would sneak into your thoughts, leaving a warmth in your chest. You’d wonder what he was doing, if he’d found someone else to tease him and keep him company. And maybe, just maybe, you’d wonder if he ever thought about you, too.

One day, you were deep in paperwork at the office when one of your coworkers popped their head in, a smirk playing on their lips. “Hey, someone’s here looking for you downstairs.”

You looked up, confused. “Someone… for me?”

“Yep,” they said, winking. “And he’s pretty tall, too.”

Puzzled but intrigued, you made your way down to the lobby, adjusting your blazer as you approached the entrance. But as soon as you caught sight of who was waiting, you stopped in your tracks, your heart hammering wildly.

Standing there, looking as composed as ever with his hands in his pockets, was Yuki. He hadn’t changed much, though maybe there was a bit more warmth in his eyes, an ease in his stance. When he noticed you, he broke into a small, almost mischievous smile.

“Yuki…” you managed, the surprise nearly making you forget how to breathe. “What… what are you doing here?”

He took a step closer, and his gaze held yours with that same focus you’d seen on the volleyball court, intense and unyielding. “I’m here to take back the kiss you stole from me,” he said, his voice soft yet clear, his expression a mixture of playfulness and something deeper.

Your cheeks flamed as his words sank in, and you let out a nervous laugh. “What—what do you mean?” you stammered, heart racing as you tried to wrap your mind around the fact that he was really here, in front of you, saying these words.

He gave a small shrug, his gaze never leaving yours. “I haven’t been able to forget it—or you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper now. “I tried. But all I kept thinking about was that moment… and how I’d never get the chance to do it back if I didn’t come find you.”

Your breath hitched as he closed the distance between you, his hand coming up to brush a loose strand of hair from your face. His touch was gentle, lingering just a second longer than necessary, and you felt your heart leap in response.

Without another word, he leaned in, his eyes closing as his lips met yours. This time, the kiss was different—gentler but filled with all the emotions neither of you had been able to say. It was as if time had paused, the world around you fading until it was just you and him.

When he pulled back, his gaze softened, he whispered, “Does this mean you’ll come back to Italy with me?”

You couldn’t help but smile, all the tension and uncertainty melting away. “Only if you promise to let me steal a few more kisses,” you replied, your voice teasing, but your heart serious.

Yuki Ishikawa was known for two things: being one of the best volleyball players in the world and being the most overprotective big brother on the planet. His little sister, Mayu Ishikawa, was the light of his life, and nothing—absolutely nothing—escaped his watchful eye when it came to her.

One day after practice, Yuki was stretching with his teammates, when he noticed Tatsunori Otsuka, one of the team's outside hitters, sitting in the corner, unusually quiet. Normally, Tatsunori was all jokes and laughter, but lately, he seemed... distracted.

"Oi, Tatsu," Yuki called out as he adjusted his leg stretch. "What’s up with you? You’ve been acting weird for days."

Tatsunori’s head snapped up. "What? Me? Weird? No way, I’m totally normal. Super normal. Extra normal!"

Yuki squinted suspiciously. Tatsunori’s sudden nervousness didn’t go unnoticed, but before Yuki could press further, Mayu walked into the gym. She had finished her training earlier and came to check on her brother.

"Hey, Yuki!" Mayu waved with a bright smile, and as soon as she did, Tatsunori froze like a deer caught in headlights.

Yuki waved back, but his eyes immediately darted to Tatsunori, who was staring at Mayu. Staring. His smile faded as he noticed Tatsunori’s jaw slackening and eyes softening as if the world around him disappeared.

Yuki's eyebrows furrowed. No way.

"Oi, Tatsu," Yuki said, standing up. "What are you looking at?"

Tatsunori, panicking, tore his gaze away from Mayu and stammered, "Oh! Uh, nothing! I was just... I was... counting the number of, uh, volleyballs in the room! Yeah, that’s it!"

"Volleyballs?" Yuki raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. "Really? Because it looked like you were counting how many times my sister blinked."

Tatsunori gulped. "W-What?! No! Come on, Yuki, I wouldn’t—"

But it was too late. Yuki’s big brother radar was now in full force. He had been protecting Mayu from the moment she was born, and the last thing he needed was some teammate—his teammate—harboring a crush on her.

"I’m watching you, Otsuka," Yuki warned, his voice dropping an octave. "If you even think about talking to her, you’ll regret it."

Tatsunori nodded furiously, trying to avoid eye contact. "Yeah, of course! Totally! No talking. Got it."

Mayu, oblivious to the tension, waved again. "Yuki, I’ll wait outside for you, okay? Don’t take too long!"

As soon as she left the gym, Tatsunori let out a sigh of relief, wiping imaginary sweat off his forehead. But Yuki wasn’t done.

"Spill it," Yuki said, his tone sharp.

Tatsunori’s face paled. "Spill what?"

"Don’t play dumb, Tatsu," Yuki leaned in, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "I saw the way you looked at her."

Tatsunori backed away, hands up defensively. "Okay, okay, fine! You caught me. But it’s not what you think!"

Yuki scoffed. "Oh, it better not be what I think."

Tatsunori rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, knowing there was no way out of this. "Look, Yuki, I’ve had a little crush on Mayu... for a while now. But I swear I’ve kept it professional. I’d never cross any boundaries."

Yuki’s face twitched. "A crush? On my sister?"

Tatsunori gulped again, looking like he was ready to bolt at any second. "Y-Yes, but it’s just a harmless crush, I promise! I’ve never acted on it."

Yuki stared at him for a long moment, the air thick with tension. Finally, he sighed dramatically. "I should’ve known. You’ve been acting weird ever since Mayu showed up to that one practice."

Tatsunori blinked. "Wait, you noticed that?"

"Of course, I noticed!" Yuki growled. "I’m her brother. I notice everything."

Just then, their teammate, Ran Takahashi, wandered over, completely oblivious to the serious conversation taking place.

"Hey, what’s going on? Why does Tatsu look like he’s about to pass out?" Ran asked, taking a bite of his protein bar.

Yuki glanced at him with a scowl. "Tatsu here has a crush on Mayu."

Ran’s eyes widened, and before he could stop himself, he burst out laughing. "Wait, you’re serious? Tatsu? On Mayu?"

Tatsunori groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Thanks, Ran, really appreciate the support."

"Oh man, this is gold," Ran said, still chuckling. "Yuki’s not gonna let you live this down."

Yuki, however, wasn’t laughing. He was still glaring at Tatsunori. "Listen, Tatsu, I’m warning you—don’t do anything stupid. Mayu’s too good for you."

"I know, I know!" Tatsunori nodded rapidly. "I’m not gonna do anything, I swear!"

Just then, Mayu popped her head back into the gym. "Yuki, hurry up! I’m starving!"

Tatsunori’s face softened again at the sight of her, and Yuki noticed. He turned to Tatsunori with an exasperated sigh.

"Stop looking at her like that!" Yuki snapped, lightly smacking the back of Tatsunori’s head. "You’re making it obvious."

Tatsunori winced, rubbing his head. "It’s not like I can control it!"

Ran grinned. "Good luck, Tatsu. You’re gonna need it if you want to survive Captain Overprotective here."

Yuki gave Ran a death glare, but then his expression softened, just a little. "Look, Tatsu... I’ll be watching you like a hawk. But if you ever—ever—hurt her, I’ll spike a volleyball into your face. Got it?"

Tatsunori, knowing full well Yuki meant every word, nodded furiously. "Got it. Crystal clear."

With that, Yuki finally relented and headed toward the exit to meet up with Mayu. As he walked away, Tatsunori let out a long, shaky breath, glancing at Ran, who was still laughing.

"Man, you’re in deep," Ran said, shaking his head.

Tatsunori sighed. "Tell me about it."

But despite the danger of crossing Yuki, Tatsunori couldn’t help but smile just a little as he thought about Mayu. It might’ve been a risky crush, but somehow, she was worth every volleyball to the face that Yuki might throw his way.

It was a quiet evening at the Ryujin Nippon dorm. After a long day of practice, the boys were ready to rest. Yuki Ishikawa, as always, was in his room, focused on his schedule for the next day, while Yuji Nishida and Ran Takahashi were playing video games in the common area. Akihiro Yamauchi and Taishi Onodera were discussing their blocking techniques, and Masahiro Sekita was chatting with Tatsunori Otsuka and Kentaro Takahashi about the latest volleyball match.

The peaceful evening, however, was about to take a turn.

Suddenly, the lights flickered. The air felt colder. Yuki furrowed his brows. "Did we forget to pay the electric bill?"

Before anyone could answer, they heard the eerie creaking of a door. It came from the hallway, and the sound echoed throughout the dorm. The guys exchanged confused glances. Yuji, the most fearless of them all, chuckled. "Who's trying to scare us? Come on, show yourself!"

No one responded.

Then, out of nowhere, a loud thud came from the bathroom. Ran, who had been bravely trash-talking Yuji during their game, jumped up, clutching the controller. "Wh-what was that?!"

"Don't tell me… this dorm is haunted?" Taishi whispered, eyes wide.

Yuki stood up, trying to maintain his composure. "Relax. There’s probably a logical explanation for this."

But things only got worse. As they all gathered in the common area, the TV turned on by itself, showing nothing but static. A chill ran down everyone's spine as they saw a shadowy figure walk past the hallway in the reflection of the TV screen.

"Okay, nope! I'm out!" Tatsu shouted, standing up, his face pale as he grabbed Kentaro by the arm.

Sekita, usually calm and collected, looked uneasy. "Maybe we should... check it out?"

"Are you crazy?!" Yuji said, shaking his head vigorously. "I’m not walking towards that thing! That’s like the number one rule of horror movies—don’t go towards the creepy noise!"

Just then, they heard the sound of a girl laughing. It was faint, but it was there. "Did you guys hear that?!" Akihiro asked, stepping back. "That was definitely a girl."

"Wait a second..." Yuki narrowed his eyes, trying to connect the dots. "No one else is supposed to be here, right?"

Ran nodded nervously. "Unless it’s a ghost."

The tension built up as everyone started to imagine the worst. Every little creak, every gust of wind, every flicker of the lights seemed to fuel their growing paranoia. Yuji, despite being one of the boldest players on the court, now stood behind Akihiro, using his height as a shield.

Suddenly, the kitchen lights turned on, and there, sitting at the counter with a cup of tea, was none other than… Mayu Ishikawa, casually sipping and scrolling through her phone.

The entire group froze.

"Mayu?! What are you doing here?!" Yuki exclaimed, his voice mixed with confusion and relief.

Mayu looked up, completely nonchalant. "Oh hey, guys. What’s up?"

"What’s up?!" Tatsu yelled, his heart still racing. "We thought this place was haunted! We heard noises, saw shadows, and there was this creepy laughter!"

Mayu’s lips curled into a mischievous grin. "Ohhh… that? Yeah, that was me."

The dorm went silent.

"What?" Sekita repeated, blinking. "You… what?"

Mayu burst into laughter. "I’ve been here for the past two days. I thought I’d have some fun while Yuki and I were both in town. So, I decided to prank you guys! The creaking door? That was me. The shadow? Also me. And the creepy laughing? Totally me. You should’ve seen your faces!"

Ran gaped at her. "Are you serious?! I thought I was about to die!"

Akihiro just stared in disbelief. "Wait, how did you even make the TV do that static thing?"

"Oh, that?" Mayu waved her hand dismissively. "I just unplugged it and plugged it back in at the right moment. Easy stuff."

Yuji, who had been hiding behind Akihiro for the better part of the night, now stepped forward, shaking his head. "You’re evil. Pure evil."

Yuki, still in shock, rubbed his temples. "I should’ve known. The one person in this world who could pull this off is you."

Mayu winked. "What can I say? Gotta keep you boys on your toes."

Tatsu sighed, collapsing onto the couch. "I can’t believe we fell for it."

"Seriously," Kentaro added, sitting next to him. "I was ready to call my mom and say goodbye!"

Taishi shook his head, trying to hold back laughter. "This is why we never let Mayu into the dorm unsupervised."

Mayu stood up, dramatically flipping her hair. "Well, now you know. But hey, you’ve all got to admit, I got you good."

The boys all exchanged looks and finally broke into laughter, the fear fading as they realized they had been played by the master prankster herself.

"Yeah, yeah, you got us," Yuji admitted, patting her on the back. "But next time, don’t expect us to go easy on you."

Mayu smirked. "Oh, I’m counting on it."

The stadium buzzed with energy as the Italian volleyball league's biggest match of the season was about to start. I stood in the stands, disguised as just another passionate fan of Yuki Ishikawa. The crowd roared as the announcer called out his name. My heart swelled with pride, watching my secret boyfriend jog onto the court, his expression stoic and focused. No one here had any idea that I wasn’t just a fangirl – I was his girl.

I grinned, clutching my Yuki cheer balloon and waving a small Japanese flag, pretending to be just another fan. To the world, Yuki and I were strangers, but little did they know that the jersey I was wearing had been hand-signed by him in the quiet comfort of our shared moments.

Yuki wanted to go public with our relationship, but I’d insisted we keep it secret. “Not yet,” I’d said, time and time again. “This isn’t the right time. Let’s have some fun with it while we can.”

It was our little game, a thrilling balancing act between two worlds – one where I was just a fan, and the other where I was his everything.

The match kicked off, and I was in full fangirl mode. “Yuki! Yuki! Go, Yuki!” I screamed, jumping up and down like every other fan in the stadium. His teammates knew about me, though. They were the only ones in on our secret. Every time I screamed his name or cheered for him, they would give me knowing smirks or winks.

Yuji Nishida, in particular, couldn’t help but tease. After Yuki’s spike sent the ball crashing into the opposing court, earning his team a point, I leaped up in excitement, and that’s when I saw Yuji glance up at the stands. He caught sight of me, grinned mischievously, and elbowed Yuki as if to say, “Look at her go!”

Yuki didn’t look up, but I could tell he was holding back a smile. He was trying to focus on the game, but I knew his mind was on me.

During a timeout, Akihiro Yamauchi stretched on the sidelines, casually looking up at me. He gave me a little wave, and I waved back enthusiastically, laughing as I caught the smirk on his face. The teasing had become a game for all of us.

But the real fun was my anonymous fan account. I’d built quite a following, posting rare photos of Yuki that no one else had access to. Pictures of him sleeping on the couch, cooking breakfast, or wearing his goofy “off-duty” clothes. His fans adored the candid moments, but none of them knew how I was getting these pictures. It was the perfect mystery.

People started commenting, “Where do you get these pictures?!” and “Whoever you are, you must be a superfan with connections!” I’d giggle as I read the comments, all while Yuki rolled his eyes when I showed him my posts.

“You’re having way too much fun with this,” he’d say with a laugh.

“Maybe,” I’d reply, grinning. “But it’s fun, isn’t it?”

He couldn’t deny it. There was something exhilarating about the secrecy, the way I could cheer for him from the stands like a fan and then go home with him afterward, laughing about all the people trying to figure out who I really was.

After the match, as the team celebrated their victory, Yuki and his teammates waved to the fans. My heart pounded as his eyes briefly found mine in the sea of people. It was just a second, but it was enough for us. Our secret connection made that single glance feel like a thousand words.

Later that night, after the fans had gone home and the stadium had emptied, I sat on the couch in Yuki’s apartment, scrolling through my fan account’s comments.

“So,” Yuki’s voice broke the comfortable silence, “what’s my biggest fan posting now?”

I looked up to see him standing in the doorway, freshly showered, his hair still damp. His face was relaxed, a stark contrast to the intensity he carried during the match.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” I teased, holding up my phone. “Your fans are getting curious. I think they’re starting to wonder if I’m some sort of volleyball insider.”

He chuckled, walking over to sit beside me. “You’re more than just an insider,” he said softly, leaning in to plant a kiss on my forehead.

“Maybe I’ll post this one next,” I teased, snapping a quick photo of him mid-kiss.

His eyes widened in mock horror. “You wouldn’t dare.”

I laughed, tucking my phone away. “Maybe not,” I said, leaning into him. “But they don’t know that.”

People always say I’m oblivious, that I can be too focused on volleyball to notice things happening around me. Maybe that’s true when I’m on the court, but off it? I notice more than they think.

Especially when it comes to her.

She thinks I don’t know. She thinks she’s hiding it well—the way she looks at me, the way her smile softens when she says my name. She tries to pretend that everything is normal, that we’re just friends, but I’ve known for a while now.

More than she realizes, I’ve noticed everything.

We’ve known each other since we were kids, back when we took volleyball lessons together. She was always by my side, cheering me on, pushing me to be better. At first, I thought it was just admiration, the kind of support that came from a close friendship. But over time, things changed. Her glances lingered a little longer, her words grew softer, more careful.

I saw it in the way her eyes lit up whenever I walked into the room. I saw it in how her laugh seemed to come a little too easily when I was around, and in the way her whole demeanor changed when it was just the two of us.

She’s in love with me. She won’t say it, but I know.

At first, I tried to ignore it. I told myself I was imagining things. We’ve been friends for so long, and I didn’t want to make it weird by overthinking her actions. But as time passed, I couldn’t deny it anymore. The tension between us, the unspoken words—it was all there, just beneath the surface.

I’ve seen her try to act like everything is fine, like she’s okay with being just friends. But I can see the struggle in her eyes. She’s hurting, and the worst part is, I don’t know what to do about it.

There was this one time, not too long ago, when we were sitting together on her balcony, watching the stars. It was quiet, just the two of us, and I could feel something in the air, something heavy and unspoken. I remember how she said my name, so softly, like she was about to confess something. My heart pounded in my chest because I knew what was coming.

“Yuki…” she had whispered.

I waited, hoping she’d finally say what I already knew. But then, she smiled—one of those fake smiles she’s been using lately to cover up her real feelings—and changed the subject. She couldn’t say it. She couldn’t bring herself to admit how she felt, and for some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to ask her either.

I’m not sure why. Maybe because I’m afraid of what will happen next. Maybe I’m afraid that if we cross that line, things will never be the same between us.

But the truth is, I feel it too. I feel everything she’s been trying to hide. The closeness, the tension, the way my heart reacts when she’s near—I’ve felt it for a while now. I care about her more than she knows. More than I’ve ever let on. And yet, I keep holding back, just like she does.

There are times when I catch myself staring at her, wondering if we could ever be more. Wondering if I’m brave enough to take that step and risk what we have. But then I think about volleyball, my career, everything I’ve worked so hard for. Is there room for her in the life I’ve chosen? Could I really balance both?

After one of my games, I saw her standing there, waiting for me outside the stadium. She was clutching her phone, looking nervous, like she had something important to say. I walked over, half expecting her to finally tell me the truth. My heart raced, wondering if this was it—the moment when everything would change between us.

But no. She smiled—again, that same smile she uses to hide her feelings—and told me I played great. Just like she always does. I thanked her, pretending not to notice the sadness behind her words. Pretending that I didn’t feel the weight of what she was holding back.

There are days when I wish I could be the one to say it first. To tell her that I know. That I’ve always known. That maybe, just maybe, I feel the same way. But every time I get close to saying something, I stop myself.

I’ve been so focused on volleyball, so consumed by my career, that I’ve never allowed myself to think about what comes next. What happens after the tournaments, the games, the practices? What happens to the people who’ve been waiting for me all along?

She thinks I’m blind to her feelings, that I don’t notice the way she loves me in silence. But I see it. I feel it. Every glance, every smile, every moment we spend together—it’s all there, unspoken but real.

The thing is, I don’t know if I’m ready for this. I don’t know if I can give her what she deserves, not when I’m still trying to figure out my own path. But the more time passes, the more I realize that I’m not sure how much longer I can keep pretending.

The truth is, I’ve been in love with her for a while too. It crept up on me, just like it did for her. Maybe it’s always been there, just waiting for the right moment to surface. But every time I think about telling her, I hesitate. Because once we admit it, there’s no going back.

But the way things are now… it’s not fair to her. It’s not fair to keep her waiting, to let her believe that I don’t feel the same when I do.

Maybe one day, I’ll finally say the words out loud. Maybe one day, I’ll tell her that I’ve felt it all along. But until then, I’ll keep her close, hoping that she’ll understand.

I’ve known him for as long as I can remember. Yuki Ishikawa. My childhood friend, my constant companion through all these years, and the one person I never thought I’d fall for.

It didn’t happen all at once. There wasn’t some grand moment when I suddenly realized I was in love with him. It was more of a slow, creeping realization that took over my heart bit by bit. At first, it was just admiration—who wouldn’t admire Yuki? He’s talented, hardworking, and humble despite his success. He’s the kind of person you can rely on, someone who would always have your back.

But over time, that admiration grew into something more, something deeper. And before I knew it, I was in love with him.

The problem is, I can’t tell him.

I can’t risk it. Yuki is my best friend. If I tell him how I feel and he doesn’t feel the same, I could lose him—and I can’t lose him. So I’ve kept it to myself, hiding my feelings behind laughter, behind casual conversations, behind the friend I’m supposed to be.

But it’s hard. It’s so hard when every time I’m around him, all I want to do is tell him the truth. That I’ve loved him for longer than I can remember, that he’s the reason I can’t look at anyone else the same way. But instead, I keep pretending. I keep smiling like nothing’s wrong, even though my heart aches every time he talks about his future, his career, his life—without me in it.

There are moments when I think he knows. Moments when I catch him looking at me, his gaze lingering just a little too long, like he’s trying to figure something out. There’s this tension between us sometimes, like we’re both holding something back. It scares me because what if he already knows? What if he’s just waiting for me to admit it? But then, what if he doesn’t feel the same?

I remember one night, not too long ago. We were sitting on my balcony, watching the stars, like we’ve done so many times before. I could hear my heart beating in my chest, louder than the quiet night around us. I wanted to tell him then. It felt like the right moment. The words were right there on the tip of my tongue.

“Yuki…” I had whispered, barely able to say his name.

He looked at me, waiting, his eyes soft and curious. And I froze. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t say what I was feeling, because what if I ruined everything? What if that moment changed everything between us, and not for the better?

So I smiled—my usual cover—and changed the subject. I let the moment pass, just like I always do.

But the truth is, it’s getting harder to hide. It’s getting harder to pretend that everything is fine, that I’m okay with just being his friend. I’m not. I want more. I want him to look at me the way I look at him. I want him to see me—not as the girl who’s always been there, but as someone he could love.

But how can I ever tell him? How can I look him in the eyes and admit that I’ve been keeping this secret for years? It feels impossible. Every time I get close to saying something, fear takes over. Fear of rejection. Fear of losing the most important person in my life.

I’ve heard his friends say that he’s oblivious. They joke that Yuki’s too focused on volleyball to notice how girls feel about him. And maybe that’s true. Maybe he’s so caught up in his career that he doesn’t realize how I feel. But then, there are those moments when he looks at me—really looks at me—and I wonder if maybe, just maybe, he knows.

Does he see the way my smile falters when he talks about dating someone else? Does he notice how my voice softens when I say his name? Does he feel the tension between us, the unspoken words that hang in the air whenever we’re alone?

I wish I knew.

One night, after one of his games, I waited for him outside the stadium. I watched as fans swarmed him, asking for autographs, taking pictures. He looked so happy, so in his element. I stood there, clutching my phone, wondering if I could ever tell him how proud I was. Not just of his achievements, but of the person he had become.

But I stayed silent, like I always do.

When he finally reached me, his smile was so bright, so genuine, that my heart ached. I wanted to tell him right then and there. I wanted to say, “Yuki, I love you. I’ve loved you for so long.” But all I said was, “Great game. You were amazing.”

And he smiled back, thanking me, completely unaware of the storm raging inside my heart.

Title: "More Than You Know" Girl’s POV

I’ve known him for as long as I can remember. Yuki Ishikawa. My childhood friend, my constant companion through all these years, and the one person I never thought I’d fall for.

It didn’t happen all at once. There wasn’t some grand moment when I suddenly realized I was in love with him. It was more of a slow, creeping realization that took over my heart bit by bit. At first, it was just admiration—who wouldn’t admire Yuki? He’s talented, hardworking, and humble despite his success. He’s the kind of person you can rely on, someone who would always have your back.

But over time, that admiration grew into something more, something deeper. And before I knew it, I was in love with him.

The problem is, I can’t tell him.

I can’t risk it. Yuki is my best friend. If I tell him how I feel and he doesn’t feel the same, I could lose him—and I can’t lose him. So I’ve kept it to myself, hiding my feelings behind laughter, behind casual conversations, behind the friend I’m supposed to be.

But it’s hard. It’s so hard when every time I’m around him, all I want to do is tell him the truth. That I’ve loved him for longer than I can remember, that he’s the reason I can’t look at anyone else the same way. But instead, I keep pretending. I keep smiling like nothing’s wrong, even though my heart aches every time he talks about his future, his career, his life—without me in it.

There are moments when I think he knows. Moments when I catch him looking at me, his gaze lingering just a little too long, like he’s trying to figure something out. There’s this tension between us sometimes, like we’re both holding something back. It scares me because what if he already knows? What if he’s just waiting for me to admit it? But then, what if he doesn’t feel the same?

I remember one night, not too long ago. We were sitting on my balcony, watching the stars, like we’ve done so many times before. I could hear my heart beating in my chest, louder than the quiet night around us. I wanted to tell him then. It felt like the right moment. The words were right there on the tip of my tongue.

“Yuki…” I had whispered, barely able to say his name.

He looked at me, waiting, his eyes soft and curious. And I froze. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t say what I was feeling, because what if I ruined everything? What if that moment changed everything between us, and not for the better?

So I smiled—my usual cover—and changed the subject. I let the moment pass, just like I always do.

But the truth is, it’s getting harder to hide. It’s getting harder to pretend that everything is fine, that I’m okay with just being his friend. I’m not. I want more. I want him to look at me the way I look at him. I want him to see me—not as the girl who’s always been there, but as someone he could love.

But how can I ever tell him? How can I look him in the eyes and admit that I’ve been keeping this secret for years? It feels impossible. Every time I get close to saying something, fear takes over. Fear of rejection. Fear of losing the most important person in my life.

I’ve heard his friends say that he’s oblivious. They joke that Yuki’s too focused on volleyball to notice how girls feel about him. And maybe that’s true. Maybe he’s so caught up in his career that he doesn’t realize how I feel. But then, there are those moments when he looks at me—really looks at me—and I wonder if maybe, just maybe, he knows.

Does he see the way my smile falters when he talks about dating someone else? Does he notice how my voice softens when I say his name? Does he feel the tension between us, the unspoken words that hang in the air whenever we’re alone?

I wish I knew.

One night, after one of his games, I waited for him outside the stadium. I watched as fans swarmed him, asking for autographs, taking pictures. He looked so happy, so in his element. I stood there, clutching my phone, wondering if I could ever tell him how proud I was. Not just of his achievements, but of the person he had become.

But I stayed silent, like I always do.

When he finally reached me, his smile was so bright, so genuine, that my heart ached. I wanted to tell him right then and there. I wanted to say, “Yuki, I love you. I’ve loved you for so long.” But all I said was, “Great game. You were amazing.”

And he smiled back, thanking me, completely unaware of the storm raging inside my heart.

I wonder how long I can keep this up. How long I can pretend that I’m okay with just being his friend. Because the truth is, I’m not. I’m in love with Yuki Ishikawa, and it’s tearing me apart to keep it a secret.

Maybe one day, I’ll find the courage to tell him. Maybe one day, I’ll let myself believe that he could love me back. But for now, I’ll keep it hidden, because as much as it hurts, losing him would hurt even more.

And so I’ll continue to smile, to laugh, to be the best friend he’s always known, while hiding the love I feel inside.

The warm afternoon sun filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over your desk. You stared at the paper in front of you, fingers gripping the pen a little too tightly as you wrote the final line:

From… Your Next Door Neighbor.

You let out a long breath, setting the pen down as you reread the letter. It was ridiculous, really, but for some reason, you needed to get it off your chest. Maybe it was because of how he looked at you the other day, a fleeting glance that brought back memories you’d rather forget.

Yuki Ishikawa.

The boy you used to know so well, who lived next door. The one you’d taken volleyball lessons with as kids. The boy who, at one time, you might have even liked.

But that was a long time ago, and things were different now.

You glanced out the window and spotted him in the driveway, getting out of his car, still in his volleyball gear. He looked as composed and serious as ever. It made your stomach turn, remembering the way things had been—how close you two had been, how you'd followed him around during volleyball practice, always trying to keep up with his impressive skills. Back then, you admired him. Heck, you might have even had a crush on him. Who wouldn’t? Yuki had always been talented, determined, and kind in his own way.

But now… now he was just a ghost of the boy you once knew. And you were strangers. Worse than strangers, really. He hadn’t so much as glanced your way in years.

Not that it mattered, you reminded yourself. Your feelings had changed. You’d moved on. The idea of dating him now? Impossible.

You folded the letter and shoved it into an envelope, not intending to send it, but the act of writing it felt oddly satisfying. Maybe it was just your way of convincing yourself. Maybe it was something more.

Later that evening, you stepped outside for some fresh air, only to find Yuki standing near the fence that separated your two homes. He looked up, catching your eye with that same cool expression you couldn’t quite read. Your heart skipped a beat, but you quickly pushed the feeling down.

You gave him a curt nod, hoping he wouldn’t start a conversation. But Yuki, for the first time in what felt like forever, spoke.

"Hey," he said simply, his deep voice startling you.

"Uh, hey." You shifted awkwardly, wondering where this was going.

Yuki leaned against the fence, his gaze steady. "It’s been a while."

You blinked, taken aback by the fact that he was even acknowledging your existence. "Yeah, it has," you said, keeping your tone neutral.

There was a long, awkward silence between you, and just as you were about to make an excuse to leave, Yuki spoke again.

"I saw you at the park the other day," he said, almost as if it were nothing.

Your heart raced. So, he did notice me.

"Yeah? Well, it’s a small town," you replied, trying to sound nonchalant. You hoped he hadn’t seen the way you’d glanced at him, just for a moment, the way you remembered doing when you were younger. Back when you admired him.

Back when you liked him.

Yuki shrugged, but there was something in his expression that made you uneasy. "It’s weird. We used to be friends."

"That was a long time ago," you said quickly, almost too quickly.

"Yeah, but it’s still strange," he continued, his gaze still focused on you. "You used to follow me around all the time."

You scoffed, crossing your arms defensively. "I was a kid. Everyone follows someone around when they’re kids."

Yuki’s lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smile. "You liked volleyball. And… you liked me."

You froze. He remembered. Of course, he did. Your face flushed with heat, and you felt the irritation rise inside you. This was exactly why you’d written that stupid letter—to remind yourself how much things had changed. To remind yourself that you didn’t care about Yuki Ishikawa anymore.

"Yeah, well, things change," you snapped. "I don’t know you now, and you don’t know me. We’re not friends anymore, Yuki."

Yuki raised an eyebrow, as if your sudden outburst intrigued him more than it annoyed him. "That’s fair," he said, not missing a beat. "But I wasn’t talking about now. I was talking about back then."

"Does it even matter?" you shot back, your voice louder than you intended. "You left for volleyball, you became this big star, and now… we don’t talk. We don’t even know each other anymore."

Yuki was quiet for a moment, as if considering your words. Then, he spoke, his voice softer than before. "Maybe we should."

Your heart stuttered in your chest. Was he suggesting what you thought he was? No. There was no way. You swallowed hard, narrowing your eyes.

"Don’t get any ideas, Yuki. Even if you asked me out, I’d reject you in a heartbeat." You said it without thinking, letting the words fly out in defense of your own vulnerability.

Yuki raised his eyebrows in surprise, but then, to your horror, he laughed. It wasn’t the reaction you expected, and it only served to fluster you even more.

"Relax," he said, a playful glint in his eyes. "No one said I was going to ask you out."

Your face burned with embarrassment. "Good. Because I wouldn’t even consider it," you muttered, trying to regain your composure.

Yuki smirked, leaning closer to the fence. "You know, for someone who says they’re not interested, you sure seem pretty defensive."

You glared at him, fists clenched. "You’re the only guy I know in this town, Yuki. Doesn’t mean you’re a good option."

His smirk softened into something else—something unreadable. "Maybe not. But you don’t know me anymore. Not really."

"Exactly," you said firmly. "And I have no intention of getting to know you again."

There was another silence, but this time, it wasn’t awkward. It was filled with unspoken tension, memories, and the knowledge that both of you had changed. Grown. Become different people.

Finally, Yuki sighed, stepping away from the fence. "Alright. I’ll take the hint. But… if you ever change your mind, you know where to find me."

You watched him walk away, your heart still pounding in your chest. As much as you hated to admit it, his words lingered. Maybe you didn’t know him anymore, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t.

Shaking your head, you turned and headed back inside, the unsent letter still sitting on your desk.

Maybe, just maybe, you’d been denying more than you realized.

You sat on your bed, the folded letter still on your desk. Yuki's words echoed in your mind:

"Maybe not. But you don’t know me anymore. Not really."

You sighed, falling back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. Why did his words get under your skin so easily? Maybe it was because he was right. Maybe you didn’t know him anymore, and it scared you. The Yuki Ishikawa you remembered from your childhood was different. Back then, he was just a boy, trying to balance his love for volleyball with being a regular kid. But now, he was this huge volleyball star. And you? You weren’t that little girl who admired him from a distance anymore.

But the truth, the one that gnawed at you from the inside, was that part of you missed him. Missed knowing him. Missed the easy friendship you once had before life got complicated. Before feelings got involved.

You sat up, biting your lip as you glanced at the letter. Without giving yourself time to overthink, you grabbed the letter, opened your bedroom window, and looked out toward Yuki's house. His bedroom light was still on. You didn’t even think twice; your feet moved on their own, stepping out of your house, letter in hand.

Standing in front of his door, you hesitated. What am I doing? You raised your hand to knock but froze just as the door opened. Yuki stood there, wearing a simple t-shirt and shorts, his hair damp from a shower. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw you.

“You’re... here,” Yuki said, sounding confused but not entirely displeased.

“Yeah, well…” You held up the letter. “I wrote this. It’s stupid, but I guess I just needed to say… something.”

Yuki looked at the letter in your hand, then back at you, a small smile playing at his lips. “You wrote me a letter?”

“Don’t make it weird,” you muttered, suddenly feeling embarrassed. “It’s not a love letter or anything.”

“I never said it was,” Yuki said, amusement clear in his voice. He took a step back, gesturing for you to come in. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You hesitated, but then nodded. You stepped inside, following him to the living room. The house felt familiar and strange at the same time, like a place you’d once known intimately but hadn’t visited in years.

Yuki sat down on the couch, looking up at you. “So… what’s the letter about?”

You sat across from him, your fingers fiddling with the edges of the letter. “It’s just… I don’t know. A way for me to get my thoughts out. I was frustrated.”

“With me?”

“With us,” you admitted. “With how things turned out. I wrote it because I wanted to convince myself that I didn’t care anymore. That I didn’t want to know you again. But I think…” You trailed off, suddenly finding it hard to say the words.

Yuki leaned forward, his expression softening. “What do you think?”

“I think I’ve been lying to myself,” you finally said, voice quiet but steady. “I used to like you, Yuki. Back then. And I thought those feelings were gone, but seeing you again… I don’t know. It just brought everything back, and I didn’t know how to deal with it.”

Yuki was silent for a moment, his eyes searching yours. “You could have just said something. I mean… we’re different people now, sure. But I don’t think we have to be strangers.”

“I didn’t think you’d care,” you admitted. “You’re this big volleyball star, and I’m just… me. I didn’t think you’d even remember those days.”

Yuki’s smile was small but genuine. “I remember. I’ve always remembered.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and for the first time in a long while, you felt like you weren’t the only one holding onto the past.

“I didn’t say anything because I wasn’t sure how you felt either,” Yuki continued. “But when I saw you again, it felt like something clicked. I just didn’t know how to bring it up without making things awkward.”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “Well, things are definitely awkward now.”

Yuki laughed too, the sound warm and comforting. “Yeah, I guess they are. But maybe it doesn’t have to stay that way.”

You looked at him, really looked at him, and for the first time, you saw the boy you once knew and the man he had become. Maybe you didn’t know him anymore, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t get to know him again.

“So… what now?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Yuki stood up and walked over to you, standing close enough that you had to tilt your head back to look up at him. He offered you a hand, his expression soft and open.

“Maybe we start over,” he said, his voice steady. “Hi, I’m Yuki. I live next door. Want to catch up over dinner sometime?”

You stared at his outstretched hand, your heart racing, and for the first time in years, you felt a genuine smile tug at your lips. You reached out, taking his hand.

“I’d like that,” you said softly.

Maybe things had changed between you and Yuki. Maybe you were different people now. But maybe, just maybe, that wasn’t such a bad thing after all.