Kageyama Tobio

You lingered by the court longer than anyone else. The evening light spilled onto the net, and your heart was pounding so loudly that you barely heard Kageyama's footsteps as he approached with his usual crispness and even breathing. You gathered your courage and said quietly, almost in a whisper, "I love you."

He froze, his gaze glassy; there was no mockery in it, only a coldness that made the pain even worse. "I know," he replied evenly, without a hint of warmth. "But I can't... and I don't want to reciprocate. It's holding me back from playing, and it's holding you back. It's better to leave things as they are."

The words dropped like a stone into water, sending ripples through your body. You tried to protest, to explain that feelings weren't a choice, but he merely inclined his head, as if weighing the facts. "I care about being useful to the team and to myself. There's no room in that for what you're saying," he said, and walked away.

You were left alone on the court, listening to the echo of his footsteps. It hurt, but it was true—and there was a bitter clarity to it. You realized: you can love without being loved, but you can't force someone to love you back.