Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The rain was falling steadily on the roof of the gymnasium, a monotonous, enveloping rhythm that seemed to mark time on that winter afternoon. The drops splashed on the clouded windows, sliding down in thin rivulets, while the sky was a lonely expanse of thick, ominous clouds. The air was filled with that wet, pungent smell typical of winter rain, and every gust of wind brought with it a sharp shiver, entering under scarves and coats.

But the cold hadn't deterred the girls gathered in front of the gymnasium, huddled under colourful umbrellas like bright spots in the greyness of the day. Their hands, some gloved, some trembling, clutched carefully decorated gifts, packages adorned with ribbons and glittering bows. Eyes full of excitement watched each of his movements, trepidatious, waiting for the right moment to approach. They had waited shyly outside the gymnasium, to avoid soiling the floor with mud and various dirt. Their eager wait was evident, huddled under colourful umbrellas, in their uniforms of a white jacket and a tartan skirt. It was almost admirable to see so many pretty girls waiting for the end of Oikawa's training just to give him some chocolate. Their admiration for him was truly commendable.

It was 14 February, Valentine's Day. The day when, according to Japanese tradition, the girls used to give chocolate to someone special. They called it honmei-choko *, to be precise.  There were girls who gave it to their boyfriends or husbands, or to their dear friends, and girls who used it as an excuse to confess their feelings. But there were also those, who waited patiently, ready to stretch out their hands towards Oikawa Tooru, the charismatic captain of the Aoba Johsai.

“Oikawa-san! T…this is for you!” The first to step forward was a girl in a red scarf, her cheeks flushed with cold, or perhaps embarrassment, as she handed him a pink package with a golden bow. 

He greeted her with his usual charming smile, a skill honed over time, the perfect combination of warmth and confidence. “Thank you, you are very kind.”

“I hope you like it!” stepped forward another girl, leaning out from under the umbrella with an anxious expression. She handed him a carefully small white sachet with red hearts. “Handmade by me!”

Oikawa nodded enthusiastically, accepting the gift with an almost theatrical elegance. “Really? So I can't wait to taste them.”

The girls exchanged excited glances, hugging each other in their coats as other girls stepped forward, gifts in their hands and dedications written in neat or trembling handwriting. He listened to them all, thanked them politely, measuring glances and smiles with the skill of someone who knew exactly how to move in such situations.

Yet, as he accepted those gifts, a part of him wavered.

On the one hand, it pleased him. It wasn't just the pleasure of being admired, certainly, his ego derived a subtle satisfaction from it, but also the knowledge that, somehow, his commitment, his talent, inspired people, that his talent was appreciated. As much as training had always been an act of personal dedication, seeing so many people believing in him could only make him feel good .

On the other hand, however, there was a difficult knot to untie. If he had refused, would it have been rude? If he had accepted the chocolate, would he have given them a hope he couldn't feed?

Because Oikawa wasn't an asshole, he didn't play with other people's feelings, but he hadn't yet openly declared that his heart already belonged to another person.

And that was strange, for someone like him.

Someone who, in people's eyes, seemed to have it all. His teammates envied him, and teased him, for the attention he received. The girls cheered for him in the gym, greeted him shyly along the corridors, some lowered their eyes, others blushed as soon as they realised they had met his eyes. Oikawa Tooru was used to all this, to being in the spotlight, to gathering admiring glances as if they were part of his natural habitat.

Therefore, declaring openly that he had a girlfriend should have been the most obvious thing in the world . It was something to write on the walls of the gymnasium, to say loudly in the usual swaggering tone, to flaunt without hesitation. 

Yet, he hadn't done it.

Not because he wanted to deny his relationship, or because it was comfortable for him to remain ambiguous. But because there was something about that love that seemed different to him from everything else. It wasn't a trophy to exhibit, it wasn't a victory to show off. It just was his . It belonged to him . And he didn't want to share it with anyone.

Perhaps, in the end, it was simple: he wanted to protect that love. Keep it as something fragile, something that didn't need the clamour and stares of others to exist.

He shifted his gaze through the crowd of girls, still accepting a few gifts with a smile. 

But he didn't see her .

Maybe he should have imagined it. She had always avoided confusion, exaggerated attention. She wasn't to be expected to mingle among the girls surrounding him, nor to participate in that collective ritual with the same fervour.

Yet, he could imagine the scene with absolute precision. If only she had been there .

He could see her in his mind's eye, like an image imprinted on him: she was at the side of the garden, her hands stuffed in her jacket pockets, her eyes half-closed as she watched the rain fall on the ground. Perhaps she would have sighed, silently, without anger, without jealousy. She didn't hate his fans. But she had never quite understood what pleasure there was in giving so much to someone whom, after all, they barely knew.

What about him?

He would have wanted her to be there.

Not with a glittering box in her hands. Nor with a carefully written dedication. Just her, with her direct gaze, with that disarming naturalness that had won him over from the first moment. 

Because among all the things the world offered him, among all the affection he received, among all those smiles... it was hers that he always searched for first.

After endless minutes of forced smiles and endlessly repeated thanks, Oikawa finally managed to sneak into the locker room, dragging along a tiredness that wasn't just physical, but also mental. Because a part of him acted naturally in those situations. He strutted a little, smiled mischievously a little, lit up a little at the gifts of his fans. But the other part of him wasn't always so ‘splendid’. Sometimes he forced himself a little to be so damned perfect in front of everyone.

The air inside the changing room was thick with steam and the muffled sound of rain against the windows reminded him that the day hadn't ended yet. His team, however, had already disappeared, leaving him alone with the silence and the familiar smell of damp floors and sweaty uniforms.

Well, not that it was a surprise. He had already received several testy glances, especially from Iwaizumi, who had stared at him with his usual annoyed frown as Oikawa had juggled the girls and their gifts. Oikawa, in an attempt to play down, had raised his hands with his usual casual demeanour, trying to say: “Hey, you're not jealous because they never give you anything, right?”  

But the only response he had received from his best friend was a ball straight to the head.

It was classic , in short.

Now safely within the locker room walls, he ran a hand through his sweat-damp hair, letting his fingers run through the dishevelled hair. He was exhausted. Not so much from the day, but from the invisible pressure that always seemed to weigh on him .

He looked down.

The floor around him was littered with colourful packages, shiny papers and bows of all sizes. There were so many of them. Too many . More than he could remember from the year before.

He sighed and picked one up at random, running his fingertip over the smooth surface of the small note that accompanied it. The rounded, feminine handwriting was framed by a small heart. 

“Oikawa-san, I've been watching you for a long time and I hope this chocolate gives you energy for your games!”

He opened another.

“Oikawa-senpai, thank you for always being so amazing! I admire you so much!”

And another.

“Please accept it! It is done with all my heart! I hope we can get to know each other better.”

It was all so lovely. It really was. Yet, as he read, he couldn't shake off a thought.

None of those words made his heart beat.

They were kind , those girls, sure. Full of affection. But they weren't that voice, they weren't that presence he was really looking for.

And perhaps, deep down, he already knew which note he wanted to find among all those.

One that wasn't full of little hearts and adoring phrases. One that, perhaps, contained only a few hastily written words in her usual slightly slanted handwriting. Small lines, written with a black ink pen.

A message that, in its calm and direct tone, would probably say: “You are sweaty. Wash yourself before touching these chocolates.”

An involuntary smile curved his lips.

Yes. That would have made his heart beat faster .

A slight creak of the door broke the muffled silence of the locker room. Oikawa turned instinctively, his muscles still tense from training, and his gaze met hers. Kahori .

He held his breath, almost instinctively. The beating of his heart, which had just subsided after the fatigue of training, resumed beating in his chest faster. It wasn't the adrenaline from training still coursing through his body. No, this was a different emotion. More intimate. Deeper. 

Kahori stood there, motionless on the threshold, completely soaked. Drops of water slid down her dark hair, stuck to her skin, and the fabric of her coat, now soaked, seemed heavier on her slender shoulders. Her face was slightly flushed, perhaps from running, perhaps from the sharp cold she had run through to get to him. She had forgotten her umbrella. Again . But judging by the look on her face, she didn't seem bothered by it at all.

Oikawa let his eyes slide over her, holding back a smile. The rain seemed to be part of Kahori, as if it were a natural and inevitable detail of her essence. Like a flower** waiting for the rain just to be lulled, to be watered, to be invigorated, and to grow. It reminded him of that summer afternoon when they had both forgotten their umbrellas and she had thrown herself into the summer rain, dancing and dragging him along with her in her lightness. 

Still, seeing her in that state, her breathing still laboured, her breath catching in her throat from running, made him realise how much effort she had put into being there. To be there for him .

Her gaze wandered past him, lingering for a moment on the packages scattered on the floor. A slight ripple made her eyebrows furrow. Curiosity . Perhaps a hint of uncertainty. And then, something more subtle and silent. Concern? Oikawa barely held his fingers over the small package he was clutching, suppressing a sigh. There was a kind of resignation in the way Kahori looked at those presents. As if she had expected that scene, but not in its full extent. As if, only now, in front of the actual amount of attention he had received, the realization dawned on her that… yes, this was part of his life. And maybe she didn't like it so much.

A flash of hesitation crossed his eyes, but he hastened to mask it with a smile, lightening his tone. “I see you forgot your umbrella,” he joked, with a studied levity that couldn't quite hide the truth.

Kahori, with a small, almost exasperated gesture, slowly removed a lock of wet hair from her face, as if she wanted to free herself for a moment from that inner confusion. Her eyes, now softer and filled with mild amusement, rested on him with that familiar expression Oikawa knew all too well: that mimetic expression she used when she wanted to play down any tense moment, making the situation lighter.

“I see I'm late,” she noted, in a tone of voice that, although apparently light-hearted, concealed a hint of irony. Her voice, calm and unsurprised. “The bakeries around Aoba Johsai must have gained quite a bit,” she added, letting out a hint of sarcasm.

“It doesn't matter,” Oikawa replied, smiling at her with that subtle, almost ephemeral delicacy, like a flower that opens shyly for a few moments, only to close just before someone catches its fragile beauty. But within that envelope of lightness also lurked a discreet melancholy, as if the smile were the cover of a secret page of a book now destined to remain unexplored. “I've been waiting for you,” he concluded.

Kahori crossed her arms with an almost spontaneous grace, barely bending her head in a gesture that seemed to appraise not only him, but the entire scene, every nuance of that moment. A defiant smirk, delicate and intriguing, made its way onto her lips. “What if I hadn't come? Would you have waited for me the whole time here? In the cold?” she asked, her voice infused with a curiosity that, though not overtly accusatory, betrayed a desire to know exactly how Oikawa would have reacted in such a circumstance.

Oikawa, trying to soften any trace of seriousness, shrugged his shoulders slightly, as if he wanted to dissolve that moment in a gesture of lightness. Although he was tired, his mouth opened in a light, almost nonchalant laugh, as if he wanted to show the world that, despite everything, he knew how to take himself a little seriously, at least for that brief moment.  “As you can see, I have enough chocolate to keep me warm for a while,” he provoked her, with that irony mixed with an almost childlike attitude.

Kahori snorted, and for a moment her face betrayed a slight impatience, as her gaze slid carefully over Oikawa's hands, busy and full of packages and sweet notes. Then, not satisfied with the answer she received, her gaze returned to him, carrying with it a shadow of challenge that hovered in the air. "So you don't need any more chocolate, I guess ," she declared, in a mocking voice. 

Oikawa could see the features of her face behind that mask of sarcasm. The slightly furrowed eyebrows, the half-closed eyes and the wrinkled nose. Her usual somewhat detached demeanour, which was unmasked by her expressiveness. And a part of him was really basking in that idea. The idea that she thought she had arrived so late as to make her chocolate... “ one among many ”.

Oikawa, with a smile ready to spread across his lips, paused for a moment, for the first time that evening concentrating in a different way, as if trying to capture each different moment. His eyes slowly rested on the box Kahori was clutching in her hands: a simple package, wrapped in ocean blue paper, without ornaments, gold bows or excessive decorations. Yet in that delicate simplicity, the box possessed an unparalleled intimacy, a tangible sign of her.

In that instant, that small box became for Oikawa the only gift he really needed, much more precious than any material gift. He perceived it as authentic, as a fragment of Kahori's heart, free of artifice and pretense. He lifted his gaze to her, and the smile that made its way across his face turned into something genuine, a smile that held an entire answer. “I might need it more than you think,” he murmured, and those few words carried a feeling that went far beyond the simple exchange of gifts.

Kahori, decided to give in to that sweet truth she had always kept deep inside, sighed. The restlessness that usually danced in her eyes seemed to dissolve for a moment, replaced by a reassuring calm. With a measured and calmer step, she approached him and gently handed him the box. “Happy Valentine's Day, Tooru. Sorry, I'm afraid the paper got ruined under the rain,” she said, her voice imbued with a sincere affection and a slight regret for that imperfection which, after all, made the gesture even more human.

Oikawa welcomed the gift with an almost unexpected delicacy, with the fear of breaking a fragile enchantment. He gazed at the box for a long, long moment, almost wanting to imprint in his memory every single detail of that gesture, that emotion. When he finally lifted his gaze to her, the tone of his voice became lower, deeper: “Thank you, Hori-chan,” he cooed, and in those words lay the sweet truth of a bond that, despite everything, had found in the simplicity a beginning of balance.

Kahori sat down opposite him with a disarming naturalness, her legs crossed as if silently affirming her place in that intimate little universe. She rested her chin on her hand, keeping a steady, intense gaze on Oikawa, studying his every move. In those eyes, there was the expectation of a reaction. 

With a fluid and gentle movement, Oikawa bent down slightly and placed his sweatshirt over her shoulders. Although the gesture could appear trivial to the casual eye, it actually spoke of a silent affection and protective instinct that went far beyond mere courtesy. The white Aoba Johsai sweatshirt, contrasting with the Karasuno uniform she wore and her long, rain-soaked black hair, took on an ‘almost symbolic value’. She had been a fool to face that cold so recklessly. However, part of him, selfishly, would have wanted her there anyway. Even if that meant she would have been running at breakneck speed in the rain of the February winter. 

“You'll get sick if you walk around so wet in February,” he scolded her in a playfully worried tone, trying to mask with a joke his sincere concern for her.

Kahori, despite the affectionate gesture, couldn't help but snort. That little sigh betrayed more a slight resignation than a real rejection. With a smile that oscillated between irony and tender affection, she replied: “Since when are you the one who cares about these things?” The question, uttered in a slightly provocative tone, seemed to question his sudden ‘caring boyfriend’ attitude, something that surprised her as much as amused her.

But Oikawa was unfazed by that veiled challenge. His laughter, which usually preceded his words, was immediately audible, spreading almost contagiously through the air. Leaning forward slightly, he tried to adopt a serious expression, though without entirely succeeding in concealing his nature as an eternal prankster. With his usual tone of playful defiance, he replied: “Since I realised that you like to be under the rain every season.”

“I don't like running in the freezing February rain, I just forgot my umbrella,” she muttered, in a tone that betrayed exasperation mixed with a hint of double meaning, as if the words "umbrellas and rain" were now companions in a daily ritual.

“Besides, I always worry about my Hori-chan!” he exclaimed, pretending to be offended. He furrowed in a deliberately theatrical gesture, placing his hands on his hips with that confidence that only he knew how to stage. 

“But now let's see if you will pass the chocolate test! I have tasted some good ones, will yours be the best?” he lied, in a mischievous tone. Because he had simply read a few notes, leaving his admirers' chocolate still intact.

With almost solemn care, he unwrapped the chocolate Kahori had given him, with an extremely inquisitive and curious attitude, threatening to draw up a classification that Iwaizumi would have described as revolting .

Kahori was staring at him intensely, one eyebrow raised. “I'll force it down your throat if you don't like it! I'm sorry if it can't compete with the others. Are Karasuno's chocolates too rustic ***?” she replied, with a challenge that, even in its biting words, concealed an affectionate confrontation between “two worlds” that knew how to mingle in a completely natural way.

Oikawa chuckled, aware that the whole scene was a pleasant pretense, a game between them masking deeper feelings. 

Still, how could he have told her? 

How could he confess that he had been waiting for that chocolate all day, his heart pounding impatience of that simple yet precious moment? 

How could he admit that, even though the taste might not have been perfect, it would still be the best for him, because it carried the unmistakable mark of their bond?

He felt terribly stupid at that moment. He would have wanted to tell her those things, but he simply ended up eating the chocolate and then burst out laughing. Laughing heartily.

He felt stupid, yet he was happy. 

He was glad that she was there with him. 

He was glad that she had come all that way to give him chocolate on that very day. 

He was simply happy .

Chapter Text

It was 14 March, the White Day, and Oikawa Tooru had decided to break a golden rule of his existence: skipping volleyball practice. 

That afternoon, the sky appeared in all its clarity, painted in shades of blue and blessed by a warm sun that heralded the arrival of spring. The air was fresh, filled with the scent of nature about to awaken and the sweet song of birds, like each element of the world had come together to invite everyone to rediscover the beauty of dreams.

Because after a long, harsh winter, where defeats on the volleyball court had put his sacrifices under strain, spring was literally a breath of fresh air. Spring brought with it the undeniable strength, the hope that every dream, every decision, could finally be fulfilled.  After all, spring was resilience , strength , rebirth .

And his dreams were literally one step away. Soon his third year would be over and he would leave for Argentina. At the mere thought of that big step, his heart began to beat faster.

Yet, something else also came to his mind. Because he would leave Japan, but his roots would always remain there, in Miyagi Prefecture. Rather, perhaps even his heart would have been left there. But the very thought scared him. He was going to Argentina for his dream, volleyball was what made his heart beat, what made him come alive. 

However, there was also her to make his heart beat. 

And part of him was cursing himself for deciding to skip afternoon training to go to his girlfriend. But not because she didn't deserve this. Not because he was doing it out of a ‘formality’ given by that weird celebration. Of course, not. He didn't feel guilty because he was skipping a training session to find his fiancée, but because he was going off to the other side of the world, leaving her there.

Did ‘that one-day sacrifice’ really make sense when he had decided to put their relationship under strain by asking her to stay together even at a distance?  His sacrifice seemed to him simply paltry. Superfluous. It didn't seem romantic to him, because he had already made his choice and in that choice in Argentina, Kahori wasn't there. Not at the moment , at least. He liked to think that there would be a moment .

But despite his doubts and uncertainties, he still decided that he would visit her at Karasuno, so early that he could enjoy her in her natural environment. Because, even if he considered it ‘a small gesture’, that small gesture would probably be a precious memory. A sweet memory, both for him and, yes, also for her. Time wasn't on their side and he, as much as he could, wanted to dedicate special moments to her before he left.

He walked into Seijoh's gymnasium: his teammates were already in their sports uniforms, ready to start training. Iwaizumi had taken control of the situation: a ball under his arm, legs slightly apart and a slightly sullen look on his face. That scene gave Oikawa some melancholy, as he realised only then that his high school days were coming to an end and his team would be just a memory to be jealously guarded. 

That scene, so perfectly melancholic, left him dumbfounded for a few seconds, before a grunt behind him distracted him from those thoughts.

“Hey, mad dog ,” gasped Oikawa, looking at his Kohai, “you're late, Iwa-chan will scold you,” he chirped.

Kyoutani huffed, putting his hands in his pockets with a bored expression. “Tsk. Don't bother me, Oikawa. I'm barely five minutes late.”

“Five minutes is still late, you idiot,” Iwaizumi growled, glaring at him. “And if you don't want to end up running around the field for the rest of practice, next time get a move on earlier.”

Oikawa smiled with mock displeasure, tilting his head slightly as he watched Iwaizumi, who seemed ready to send Kyoutani back to hell with a single glance. But then, suddenly, the vice-captain's attention shifted to him.

“What about you?” he blurted, suddenly. “Don't tell me you came here just to glumly observe the gym. Where are you supposed to be now, huh?”

Oikawa raised his hands in surrender, chuckling. “Ah, Iwa-chan, what a cold heart you have. Won't you miss me a little?”

“No, I just want to know why the heck aren't you already on your way to Karasuno. You should go to Kahori, shouldn't you?”

At the sound of that name, Matsukawa and Hanamaki exchanged a knowing glance and began sneering. “Ah, look at that, our captain skipping training for love,” Hanamaki commented, elbowing Matsukawa. “So romantic,” the latter added with a theatrical sigh, resting a hand on his chest. “I wonder what he has in store for his little girlfriend on White Day. I smelled something burning yesterday, did your kitchen by any chance go up in flames?”

“But it will be worth it, won't it? Maybe you can keep her from dumping you,” Hanamaki intervened.

Oikawa rolled his eyes, offended. “You two are idiots. I didn't burn anything, just for the record. ”

Meanwhile, Kindaichi, who had remained aloof, had suddenly stiffened. He cleared his throat, then muttered a timid, “S... say hello to Kahori-chan.”

A moment of silence, then Hanamaki and Matsukawa slowly turned towards him with expressions somewhere between amused and incredulous.

“Oooh, Kindaichi-kun…” hummed Matsukawa with a mischievous smirk.

“I guess we have a secret suitor here…” added Hanamaki, giving him a gentle pat on the back.

Kindaichi turned bright red. “N-Nothing like that! I-”

But Oikawa interrupted him with a wicked smile. “Oh? Should I tell her something from you? Maybe a special message~?”

Oikawa was well aware that Kindaichi was a good guy and that he had begun to make friends with Kahori after the New Year's Eve spent together. Kindaichi was just very shy, so much so that he was embarrassed even for a ‘friendly greeting’. However, Oikawa loved to tease him. It didn't matter that these jokes made strange allusions, because he knew that his kohai could be trusted.

“No!” exclaimed Kindaichi, agitated. “F-forget what I said!”

Iwaizumi sighed heavily, massaging his temples. “Oikawa, if you're going to leave, move.”

Oikawa grimaced but, with one last glance at the gym, his team, he nodded slightly. “Alright, alright. I'm going.”

He turned towards the exit, but before leaving, he allowed himself one last amused smile. “Oh, and Iwa-chan... If you miss my charismatic presence, I can always send you some selfies.”

Iwaizumi's ball brushed him dangerously as Oikawa ran away giggling.

Sitting on the seat next to the bus window, Oikawa let his head rest lightly against the cold glass, his breath barely condensing on the transparent surface. Outside, the landscape flowed by quickly, a symphony of colours alternating between the grey of the streets and the shy green of the trees that were beginning to grow a few leaves. The clear sky reflected off the windows of the houses, and every now and then a few rays of sunlight filtered through the panes, illuminating his face for an instant.

He wore a pair of earphones, letting music fill the distance between him and the outside world. Familiar notes lulled him, accompanying his thoughts on a journey of memories. That stretch of road he had taken several times to visit her, although Oikawa had to admit that it was Kahori who had visited him several times. In the early periods he had often thought of an answer, almost fearful that she wouldn't want to be seen with him at her school. Then reality had crashed in on him, beautifully ridiculous and funny. Kageyama . 

Kahori couldn't bear to see him arguing with Kageyama. And Oikawa had this wonderful negative influence on his kohai that it was really impossible for him not to tease him a little.  

In one hand he held the phone, occasionally scrolling absent-mindedly over the screen without really paying attention to anything. In the other, clutched with almost instinctive care, was a small paper package. The present for Kahori.

The edge of the packet was slightly crumpled from clutching it, as if the unconscious tension inside him also poured there. What would she have said? Would she have been surprised? Or would she have laughed, with that barely-there smile of hers that he adored? He knew Kahori, he knew she would want something sober and simple. In fact, he could have sworn she would have wanted nothing at all.  And Oikawa had respected that decision, opting for a simple gift that nevertheless challenged his precarious culinary skills.

He sighed, letting his breath escape between his lips in an invisible cloud. The bus stopped with a sudden movement and the hiss of the doors opening drew Oikawa back to reality. He stood up with fluid movements, slipping the phone into his pocket and still carefully clutching the small package in his palm. He descended the last flight of steps, inhaled deeply into the still crisp March air, letting the light wind ruffle his hair.

In front of him, Karasuno stood familiar, with its simple and unobtrusive façade, so different from Seijoh. Every time he set foot there, there was something peculiar that struck him: a sense of defiance, like that institute was imbued with the fighting spirit of its students. The Karasuno boys' team had made great strides, he had to admit. But it was impossible for him to shake off that defeat.

He scratched the back of his head, snorted audibly. He wasn't there to ignite that rivalry, nor to think about defeat or that crazy flock of crows .

Crossing the courtyard, he realised that some female students were watching him. At first they were just fleeting glances, then some of them recognised him openly. 

“Oikawa-san!” exclaimed one girl enthusiastically, while another turned sharply towards her friend, murmuring something in her ear. 

He, used to that kind of reaction, merely gave a swaggering smile and a nod. He smiled warmly at her, raising a hand and chirping a light, cheerful: “ Yahoo ~ ”.

The girls laughed as he resumed his walk with a determined step, taking a path that led him to the gymnasium. He knew the way well. His shadow stretched across the walls, while the soles of his trainers made a rhythmic sound against the concrete floor leading directly to the gymnasium door.

Once in front of the sliding door of the gymnasium, Oikawa stopped. From inside one could hear the excited voices of the girls in training, the dull clatter of the ball hitting the floor, the quick exchanges of directions between teammates. He moved the door slightly, as discreetly as a lurking feline.

Yui Michimiya, who was following the practice from the sidelines, was the first to notice. For a moment their gazes met, and Oikawa gave her a knowing smile, bringing his index finger to his lips to signal her not to say anything. She smiled in return, barely lowering her gaze with a slight tilt of her head, confirming that she would go along with his game.

Oikawa slowly leaned against the wall, seeking refuge in the shadows that still concealed him from the eyes of the others, while the beating of his heart accelerated in an almost musical rhythm, perfectly in tune with the frenetic exchange of energies and movements that animated the gymnasium. 

And then, suddenly, he saw her.

There, immersed in the vibrant sporting environment, was Kahori. She was wearing a simple white T-shirt, clean and casual, paired with a pair of red shorts that enhanced her slim figure. Her long black hair, carefully gathered in a high ponytail, moved like gentle waves with her every gesture, giving her an air of natural, innate grace. Oikawa found himself enraptured by her presence, so much so that his breathing slowed almost involuntarily as his eyes lost themselves in the details of that moving portrait.

He noticed how Kahori's cheeks, flushed with intense exertion, revealed the passion with which she dedicated herself to each movement, while small drops of sweat, like sparks of determination, gathered on her forehead. Her gaze was fixed, concentrated and absolutely resolute, and every muscle in her body seemed to be in perfect balance between tension and agility, like she was dancing to the rhythm of a secret choreography.

His eyes then slowly moved to the sneakers she was wearing. Those shoes, so simple and yet so full of meaning. A nostalgic smile drew itself on Oikawa's lips at the thought of the day they had chosen them together, on a warm summer's day, when their engagement was still a blurred and uncertain dream. He recalled how she had carefully observed every detail, choosing that model which now firmly trod the gymnasium floor, silently bearing witness to the time that had marked their journey together.

With a deep, almost inaudible sigh, Oikawa admitted to himself that it was impossible not to be captivated by her prettiness. Although petite, Kahori moved with a swiftness and lightness that betrayed an incredible inner strength. Her sprints were lightning fast and precise, yet Oikawa was well aware that her stamina wouldn't allow her to maintain that rhythm for long stretches. Nevertheless, every gesture, every movement, was a testament to the remarkable progress she had made since the last match he had witnessed, and that every one of her actions now felt more confident, more fluid, and absolutely controlled.

A small glimmer of pride lit up his face: in some of her movements he saw his own. How could he not expect it? Kahori had always had the ability to absorb every piece of his advice, every one of his gestures, and make them her own without him even having to insist. And he loved basking in her eyes, while she remained listening to the advice he had to give her. He could remember every little movement she made: her head nodding, her index finger and thumb on her chin with the attitude of someone who was trying to match advice to the muscles in her body. The periwinkle eyes that moved tirelessly to memorise every movement. And then those smug lips curving slightly upwards when she finally managed to apply all the theory to practice.

He was proud to be able to pass the love of volleyball to her, but part of him loved to see her hanging on his every word. He loved knowing that she believed in him, maybe even more than him sometimes .

Part of him wanted to run to the middle of the court so he could kiss her in front of everyone.

But he forced himself to wait patiently, also glancing at the other girls from time to time. Some of the third years weren't bad, but he could see in the others' movements what Kahori kept telling him. They didn't have resolution, perhaps not even the desire to improve. They lacked that perseverance, that spark of determination and the relentless desire to improve themselves. They had potential, it was true, but their captain, so good and understanding, couldn't convince her teammates to apply the same intensity in training.

And everything seemed to be going so well, until the end of the training session, when the gymnasium entrance came alive with the presence of Hinata and Kageyama. The two walked towards Kahori in an unmistakable manner: Hinata, with his usual jumping and contagious enthusiasm, and Kageyama, who alternated that surprising kohai innocence with an air of arrogant setter. With a quick gesture, Kageyama extended a small object towards Kahori, a gesture that left Oikawa breathless for a moment. 

For a moment his heart stopped in his throat. What the hell was that? Kageyama was giving Kahori a box of chocolates? How the hell was that possible?

Kageyama suddenly moved to the spot where Oikawa was sitting, as if a dark presence was drawing him in, a mysterious and unsettling call that urged him to cross that invisible border. In an instant, the two found themselves face to face, and their gazes met in a silent duel of unspoken emotions.

Meanwhile, Kahori, intent on greeting the others, immediately realised that something was wrong. Kageyama's face, usually impassive, was now marked by a serious and worried expression. She followed the boy's gaze carefully until she met Oikawa's.

It was then that Hinata, always sensitive to changes in the atmosphere, suddenly jolted. With his characteristic readiness, he placed his hands on Kageyama's shoulders to bring him back to reality, exclaiming in a firm voice: “Not today, Kageyama, let's get out of there!” His words, laden with genuine concern, broke the mystery-laden atmosphere, forcing the young setter to look away.

After briefly greeting the others, Kahori walked resolutely towards Oikawa, trying to soothe the echo of tension hovering in the air. Oikawa, however, with a sullen face and eyes still full of questioning, let his gaze waver uncertainly: initially it rested on Kahori's reassuring figure, then slowly moved towards that white object.

Kahori burst out laughing, and her spontaneous and contagious laughter filled the air with a lightness that made the hovering tension waver for a moment. With a theatrical gesture, she lifted the white object and swung it in front of Oikawa's eyes: a simple rectangular book, tall enough to make one think, from a distance, of a small box. Covered in a glossy white film, that school object looked, under the light, almost like a precious artefact. Yet, in truth, it was just a compact book crammed full of notes, a daily companion of long hours of study and dedication.

“Are you interested in this book so much?” she asked, with a hint of irony in her voice, waving the book around to emphasise its banality. Her eyes shone with mischievous amusement, as if she was challenging Oikawa to take such an ordinary object too seriously.

“ Tch ,” he huffed, turning his gaze to the side, suddenly feeling embarrassed and almost ridiculous. The mere fact that a book of school notes could capture so much interest made him feel small, unable to mask the unexpected vulnerability that gripped him. “I thought…” he began, but the sentence vanished, leaving only the echo of an incomplete thought.

“You thought?” replied Kahori, with a sly smile. 

“I thought Tobio-chan gave you chocolate,” he spat, crossing his arms as the packet on his wrist slammed against his body.

Oikawa remained motionless, his cheeks still flushed with embarrassment, as Kahori's laughter filled the air with a lightness that seemed almost to slap him. He couldn't believe the naive thought that had crossed his mind: had he really imagined Tobio-chan as the generous giver of chocolate for his girlfriend?

Oikawa shrugged his shoulders, trying to conceal the turmoil that swirled inside him. He knew well that, after all, they were just friends. Yet, the idea of seeing them such close companions, even in such a simple context, gave him a sense of unease that he couldn’t explain. Perhaps it wasn't so much the friendship itself that bothered him, but the invincible perception that every gesture, every laugh, could conceal a deeper meaning that he, in all his arrogance, couldn't accept.

He just hated seeing him anywhere near her .

“Tobio has no reason to give me chocolate,” she hummed, “do you dislike him so much that you hate him even when he talks to me?”

“I hate that he can see you every day. I wish I could do that too. I wish I could share these simple things with you. Or at least, I wished I'd had that chance a long time ago,” he hastened to say, as if those thoughts had been a sticking point for a while. 

He bit his lip. With what courage had he said those things? He was about to leave for Argentina. If he had loved her so much, he wouldn't have gone to play on the other side of the world. He would have been there, with her. 

But he had made his choice.

It was so difficult to keep up with all those emotions. Sometimes he just didn't know how to handle them.

Oikawa had never doubted Kahori. And, to be honest, he had serious doubts that Kageyama could compete with him for Kahori. Because Kahori had been really good at keeping them away all that time, continuing her friendship with Kageyama and her love for him. Not to mention that he was aware that what Kahori felt for him was something serious. Oikawa knew, he was certain, that Kageyama wouldn't take her away from him easily. 

But how could he explain that he was sure of her and at the same time... he was afraid?

He simply could not .

“I'm sorry, I'm such an asshole for saying that,” he admitted, barely sighing.

Kahori's gaze softened. “It's alright, Tooru,” she whispered softly, “you don't want to think about him all the time, do you? You came here for me, right? Or should I be jealous that you think more of him?” She tried to say, deliberately joking.

Oikawa let loose a faint smile, as if her words had dispersed all the fog that had clouded his mind. She had always had that effect on him. Perhaps he was trying to take refuge in her, aware that it would only take a sentence, a blink of her eyelashes, a word, a touch... to bring him back to his old self.

“Of course I'm here for you,” he replied firmly, before handing her a white paper bag.

Kahori took the bag, peeked inside, and then reached out to pull out a small white box, as was the tradition on “White Day.” She put the paper bag on the floor, then opened the box calmly, but with her eyes lighting up her face. Oikawa could sense her happiness, almost disbelief at seeing the gift.

And it surprised him quite a bit, because the chocolates were... a culinary experiment he had tried. He was bad at cooking, never mind making sweets. Those little white pralines had an irregular surface, thicker on one side than the other. The icing was opaque instead of shiny. There were no two chocolates alike: they all had different sizes and some detail that made them unique.

“Did you make these?” she asked, looking up at him.

“It's so obvious, isn't it?” Oikawa whistled, then scratched the back of his head. “Yeah well,” he started to say, “my sister helped me keep the kitchen from burning down. Let's put it this way.”

Kahori lowered her gaze to the most imperfect box of chocolates. She stared at them for a long time, so long that Oikawa began to seriously worry that he had made a mess. Kahori's gaze wandered over each individual chocolate, because they were all so different that each white chocolate was... something that required personal attention. He saw her sniff one, then licked the surface of the praline to peel off the little chocolate hearts he had used as decoration. He saw her nod, then giggle, sometimes even sigh. He couldn't understand what the hell was going through her head.

“I assure you that they are edible even if they aren't perfect,” he tried to justify himself, feeling a little uneasy about the situation being so out of his control.

Kahori chuckled, “We're not perfect either, are we? Yet here we are,” she noted, her voice so light it sounded like a timid spring breeze, “they don't need to be perfect, Tooru. I wouldn't have wanted them any other way. You know, not everything has to be perfect to work all the time ,” she concluded, with an almost inhuman naturalness, before eating the chocolate she had stripped of its decorations seconds before.

“How did you do it?” she asked, finishing chewing her chocolate.

She licked her fingers to remove the white chocolate residue on her fingertips, then licked away the chocolate that remained in the corner of her mouth, in a fluid, deliberately slow movement, simultaneously moving her gaze to him. As if she wanted to provoke him with that damned tongue.

And it was at that moment that Oikawa completely lost the meaning of her speech. He remained still, staring at her in awe. He had already forgotten every word she said. He had now entered that phase where anything she said or did wouldn’t register in his head.

“No…you, how did you do it?” he whispered.

“Huh? What are you talking about, I asked you that question…” she muttered, raising an eyebrow, confused.

“How did you make me lose my mind like this?” he whispered finally.

He actually had an answer.

He always had.

Yet a part of him wanted to continue basking in those questions, to be surprised each time at how little was enough to make his heart beat so fast.

Kahori remained silent for a few moments, letting his words melt into the air thick with an impalpable sweetness. Then, with a faint smile, she lowered her gaze to the small empty wrapper of the chocolate she still held between her fingers, almost as if seeking the courage to say what was pressing in her chest.

She looked up at him, her eyes glowing with a soft intensity, like a candle flickering but not extinguishing. "Thank you for coming all this way for me, Tooru," she whispered, her voice laced with a sincerity that seemed almost fragile in its softness. "I know you have so much else to do, but… you're here. And that means more than you can imagine."

Oikawa looked at her, feeling a slight heaviness in his chest, the kind of pressure that didn't hurt, but reminded him how much she meant to him. How much he would be willing to do to see her happy. 

She took a step forward, closing the distance between them even more. Her fingers, still stained with traces of chocolate, rested lightly on his white school jacket, holding it slightly, as if to make sure it was real, that he was really there. Then, with a light breath, she stood on tiptoe, coming just close to his face. There was no hesitation in her movements, only the knowledge that the time was right.

She touched his lips in a light kiss, a flutter that lasted just long enough to make him feel irrevocably, deeply his. A brief but intense touch that left a trail of warmth on both their lips.

When she pulled away, Oikawa remained still for a moment, his eyes still closed as if to hold the sensation of that kiss for a few more seconds. Then he opened them again, finding Kahori's gaze watching him with a small smile on her lips, the same smile that had always made him capitulate.

“ Thank you for giving me your time ,” she whispered, before leaning her head against his chest to hug him.