𝐂𝐡. 𝟒𝟗

⋅. ˚₊ ‧ 𐙚 ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅

The gym was buzzing with a familiar energy—loud sneakers squeaking, balls thudding, the mix of shouts and cheers filling every corner like a heartbeat. But today, it wasn't a regular practice. It was the last scrimmage game before graduation, a final showdown between the third-years and the rest of the team.

It felt surreal. A mix of excitement and quiet sorrow hung in the air.

The third-years—Oikawa, Iwaizumi, Hanamaki, Matsukawa—wore their usual confident smirks, but their eyes flickered with something softer. Nostalgia? Maybe.

I watched from the sidelines, clipboard in hand but heart pounding. This wasn't just a game. It was a closing chapter.

⸻

Oikawa spotted me across the court and gave a subtle nod—half challenge, half invitation.

I smiled and stood, my steps light but sure. Coach Nobuteru had told me earlier to "get on the floor and play a little." No way I was turning that down.

⸻

The warm-up was filled with laughter and teasing. I was no professional player, but I was definitely better than Oikawa claimed I was—and today, I was ready to show it.

"Don't get too cocky, manager-chan," he called from across the net. "I'm going to destroy you."

"Big words for a guy who's lost every match against me," I shot back, smirking.

The team circled around, all eyes on us, energy crackling like static.

⸻

The whistle blew.

The game started fast. The ball zipped across the net, thwacking against hands, sometimes missing, sometimes landing with perfect precision.

Oikawa was in his element—calm, focused, commanding the court with his flawless sets.

But me? I wasn't holding back either.

Every time the ball came my way, I sent it back with as much force and accuracy as I could muster. The team cheered me on, and even Oikawa's eyebrow raised in impressed surprise.

⸻

"Nice try, Oikawa," I teased after blocking one of his spikes. "You're going to have to do better than that."

He grinned, eyes sparkling with that competitive fire. "Oh, it's on."

The rally went on, sweat dripping, muscles aching, but no one wanted to stop.

⸻

At one point, Oikawa glanced at me mid-play, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. I caught his eye and grinned back. For a split second, everything outside the game faded.

We were just two people—no roles, no pressure—connected by the pulse of the game and the laughter echoing around us.

⸻

When the final point was scored, the whole gym erupted.

The third-years won by a hair—but honestly, it felt like we all won.

Breathless and laughing, we collapsed onto the floor in a sweaty pile of arms and legs.

⸻

Oikawa found me amidst the chaos, still catching his breath.

"You did better than I thought," he admitted, eyes glinting with something softer than teasing.

"I told you," I said, nudging him with my elbow. "Never underestimate your manager."

He laughed, then reached for my hand.

"Thanks for being here. For everything."

I squeezed his fingers. "Wouldn't be anywhere else."

⸻

Later, as the gym emptied and the lights dimmed, I lingered by the door, watching the third-years say their goodbyes.

They were stepping into a new chapter—unwritten, unknown—but I could tell they were ready.

Oikawa caught my eye, and I saw the same mix of excitement and bittersweet hesitation mirrored there.

He came over, brushing a sweaty strand of hair from his forehead.

"Thanks for being my constant through all the chaos," he said quietly.

I smiled, heart full.

"Always."

And as we left the gym hand in hand, I knew this wasn't an end—it was just another beginning.