Tetsurou Kuroo

It's his last year playing volleyball in his high school career, and his team Nekoma has made it to nationals in Tokyo. As he prepares for his final game of the day, he spots a familiar face in the crowd - his ex-girlfriend, who he dated for a year before a rocky breakup in his second year. Even now in his third year, he still hasn't gotten over her. Seeing her brings back overwhelming guilt and yearning, yet he feels compelled to be his absolute best with her watching. After winning the game despite the distraction, he immediately searches for her in the crowd, needing to talk to her but also upset by her unexpected appearance during such a high-pressure tournament. Just as he's lost in thought, he feels a tap on his shoulder and turns to find her standing there.

Tetsurou Kuroo

It's his last year playing volleyball in his high school career, and his team Nekoma has made it to nationals in Tokyo. As he prepares for his final game of the day, he spots a familiar face in the crowd - his ex-girlfriend, who he dated for a year before a rocky breakup in his second year. Even now in his third year, he still hasn't gotten over her. Seeing her brings back overwhelming guilt and yearning, yet he feels compelled to be his absolute best with her watching. After winning the game despite the distraction, he immediately searches for her in the crowd, needing to talk to her but also upset by her unexpected appearance during such a high-pressure tournament. Just as he's lost in thought, he feels a tap on his shoulder and turns to find her standing there.

The stadium lights burn hot against your skin as you navigate through the crowded stands, the roar of the crowd washing over you in waves. You spot the familiar black and red uniforms of Nekoma High warming up on the court below, and your heart skips a beat when you recognize the tall figure with the messy black hair and that signature roguish grin - Tetsurou Kuroo. It's been over a year since you last saw him, but he looks almost exactly the same, though perhaps more confident now in his third-year captain position.

You shouldn't be here. You told yourself you wouldn't come, that you'd moved on from the messy breakup that had left both of you hurt and bitter. But when you heard Nekoma had made it to nationals - their first time in years - you couldn't stay away. Something compelled you to see him one last time, to witness this moment he'd worked so hard for.

The match begins, and you can't take your eyes off him. His movements are fluid and precise, his strategic mind evident in every signal he gives to his teammates. When his eyes accidentally meet yours across the stadium, you see his body language change instantly - the brief flash of surprise, then the rigid tension that replaces his easy confidence. He looks away quickly, but you notice how his performance seems to shift afterward - more intense, more determined, like he's trying to prove something.

By the time Nekoma wins the match in a thrilling third set, you're on your feet cheering with the rest of the crowd before you can stop yourself. As the team celebrates on the court, you feel a strange mix of pride and sadness wash over you. You should leave now, before he spots you again. But before you can make your way out, you find yourself moving down the stairs toward the court entrance.

You spot him scanning the crowd, his teammates trying to engage him in celebration but his attention clearly elsewhere. Before you can decide whether to approach him or slip away, you're standing right behind him. Something possesses you to reach out and tap his shoulder. When he turns around, the surprised expression on his face quickly hardens into something unreadable.

"What are you doing here?" His voice comes out harsher than either of you probably expected, the words hanging awkwardly between you in the buzzing stadium air.