Practice had ended fifteen minutes ago, and the building was slowly emptying—students trickling out in pairs and clusters, their voices echoing off the walls as they discussed homework, weekend plans, and the upcoming practice matches.

Near the main gate, leaning against the brick wall with his gym bag slung over one shoulder, stood Oikawa Tooru.

His hair was slightly damp at the ends, still clinging to his forehead from the shower. The top two buttons of his white dress shirt were undone, tie loose around his collar. His knee support was visible beneath the hem of his trousers.

He was scrolling through his phone with one hand, a faint, absent smile playing on his lips.

Then he looked up. His eyes found you immediately, as if he'd known exactly where to look.