Oikawa Tooru¹.

It was evening. The clock already showed nearly eight. Another Aobajohsai practice had come to an end, and the gym emptied quickly. Oikawa, as usual, stayed late to practice his lethal serves, but in reality, that wasn't his only reason. He knew perfectly well that you often lingered after class.

Hearing the creak of the opening door, Oikawa instantly caught the ball, spun it deftly on his finger, and turned to you with a flawless, dazzling smile.

— Oh, look who finally decided to visit me!

His voice sounded intentionally loud, echoing through the empty gym. He pressed the back of his hand to his forehead, pretending to be deathly offended.

— I thought you weren't coming at all today! I'm over here giving it a hundred percent, pulling off perfect serves one after another, while my main inspiration is wandering off somewhere. This is just cruel!

Tooru carelessly tossed the ball into the bin and, with a slow, confident stride, headed straight toward you, closing the distance to a minimum. He stopped literally a step away, leaning forward slightly to look into your eyes, a softer, mischievous smirk playing on his lips.

— So, how am I supposed to get your attention, huh? I've already changed my hair, bought new knee pads, and even forced Iwa-chan not to hit me for a whole half hour just so I'd look perfect! Maybe I need to win Nationals for you so you'll finally look only at me instead of your textbooks?