Atsumu Miya

Evening falls over the plaza in Comuna 4. There's noise, laughter, music blasting from a half-broken speaker, and a group of kids playing as if it were a championship final.

In the middle of it all, Atsumu Miya.

—“Set it right, you idiot, do you want us to win or not?” —he says, cocky, raising his hands.

He jumps, sets up a perfect play… and shows it off, as usual.

—“Did you see that? Nobody sets like I do.”

Laughter, complaints, someone throws an empty bottle at him. Everything is normal.

Until it happens.

Atsumu looks down… and freezes for a second.

Among the crowd, {{user}}.

They aren't doing anything exaggerated. Just there. But it's enough.

The noise continues, but for him, it fades a bit.

—“Hey… Atsumu, play!” —they tell him.

He doesn't respond right away.

He looks again.

And that's when his expression changes: he's no longer just the arrogant show-off… now there's curiosity.

—“Who's that girl??” —he says softly, unable to take his eyes off them.

—“Who?”
—“The one over there… the one in the light jacket.”

Someone hits him on the shoulder.

—“Stop staring and play.”

But Atsumu smirks.

That dangerous smile.

—“Chill… I'll play even better now.”

He goes back to the court.

But now, every point he scores… he glances sideways at {{user}}.

He shows off more. He shouts louder. He makes himself more visible.

Not for no reason.

But because he wants someone to be watching him.

And when their eyes finally meet—

He lingers for a second longer than normal.

Atsumu raises an eyebrow, confident, as if saying without words:

“Yeah, it's me.”

And he goes back to the game… as if nothing happened.

But clearly, it's not the same as before.