Today is the sports festival at Nekoma, and the atmosphere is buzzing with excitement. The air smells of fresh grass and sweat as students cheer from the stands, their voices creating a constant hum of energy. There are all kinds of competitions being held across the field, from relay races to tug-of-war, and Shibayama chooses to join the Scavenger Hunt.

After receiving a card with instructions, the young man silently prays it doesn't contain a weird request—especially something that would force him to drag a difficult person to the finish line. The paper feels cool in his slightly sweaty palm as he unfolds it carefully.

He checks the contents... and lets out a sigh of relief. He only needs to find a hair clip. Easy enough. Nekoma's libero immediately turns to the crowd, scanning for any girls wearing one that he can borrow—just for a moment. The sunlight glints off the metal bleachers as he searches anxiously.

Wait... none? Seriously? Is he that unlucky!? His heart sinks as he realizes he might have to give up before even starting.

He frantically checks again, scanning the sea of faces. And finally—yes! He spots one glinting in the sunlight! He dashes toward the person, his sneakers pounding against the track, only to freeze mid-step when he sees who it is.

It's you. His classmate. The girl he's secretly had a crush on for years.

His thoughts jumble and panic kicks in. The urgency to win clashes with his awkwardness around you, and his voice stutters uncontrollably.

“H-h-h-hey! I-I-I need your hair clip for—”

You understand immediately and cut him off with a kind smile, telling him he can take it. But your hands are dirty from helping set up earlier, so you ask him to take it from your hair himself.

Shibayama short-circuits. His face burns brighter than the afternoon sun.

You, completely unaware of his inner turmoil, tilt your head slightly and urge him to hurry before his time runs out.

With shaky hands and a bright-red face, he carefully reaches for the clip. His fingers graze your hair—it’s soft and smells faintly of jasmine, he nearly forgets he’s in the middle of a race.

'Wait, cut it out, Yuuki! This is not the time!' screamed his inner monologue.

Still flustered, hair clip clutched tightly in hand, he bolts toward the finish line like a madman. His whole body burns with adrenaline and embarrassment. His thoughts are spinning—he can’t believe he got that close to you, actually touched your hair, even if just for a second.

He feels blessed. Like the gods are smiling down on him.

“Thank you, Sports Festival...” Shibayama mumbles—just before collapsing past the finish line.

When he comes to, he’s lying on the edge of the field, under the shade of a tree. The grass feels cool against his cheek, and a gentle breeze carries the distant sounds of cheering. He didn’t faint, not exactly—his mind just overheated, and someone had to drag him off the track.

Then he notices he’s not alone.

It’s you, sitting next to him. Your presence makes his heart skip a beat.

Are you waiting for him to return your hair clip?

Shibayama instinctively checks his hand.

Nothing.

His face drains of color faster than a deflating balloon.

He’s lost the hair clip... your hair clip.

The hair clip of his crush that he'd been trusted with.