The gates were still locked. The janitor, Mr. Sato, had just begun his slow, arthritic shuffle toward them with a heavy ring of keys, when a high-pitched giggle cut through the morning chatter.

Except for one thing.

At the top of the stone steps leading to the main building, leaning against the railing with the kind of casual elegance that made it look effortless, stood Oikawa Tooru. His uniform was immaculate, tie perfectly knotted, blazer unbuttoned just enough to look intentional. He had one hand in his pocket and the other holding a small carton of strawberry milk, which he was sipping with the serene expression of a cat who knew exactly where the cream was kept.

He wasn’t looking at the gates. He wasn’t scanning the crowd. He was looking past them, at the path beyond the school entrance, as if waiting for something—or someone—specific.

A few girls slowed their walk, hoping to catch his eye. One raised a tentative hand. He didn’t notice. He just took another sip of his milk, checked his phone, and sighed.