Haikyuu!!: Can a reclusive genius fall in love?

The following day, Aoba Josai High School was shrouded in a subtle, oppressive atmosphere. It wasn't the weather; the sky was a clear, deep blue, the sun generously bathed the campus, and cherry blossom petals continued to fall leisurely. It was a silent, stagnant feeling that emanated from the depths of people's hearts, especially among the volleyball team members.

The gymnasium, once a vibrant space for morning training, had lost its usual energy. The sharp screech of sneakers against the floor, the dull thud of volleyballs hitting the ground, the boys' spirited shouts… these elements, the everyday background noise, remained, but seemed veiled by a thin layer, losing their original penetrating power and warmth, becoming somewhat mechanical and oppressive. Everyone's movements seemed tinged with unnecessary caution, their glances exchanged with hesitation and inquiry, and an awkward silence hung in the air, a sense of unease about what to do.

Oikawa Tetsu was, as always, the first to arrive at the stadium, his very presence acting as a powerful stimulant to invigorate the atmosphere. He wore his usual bright, slightly frivolous smile, greeting each team member as they entered in a clear voice, and even trying, as always, to tease Iwaizumi Hajime, who was making serious preparations.

"Ohayo~ Iwa-chan! You're radiating murderous intent again today. Didn't you sleep well last night? Your dark circles are practically falling off the floor!"

However, a closer look reveals that the smile doesn't fully reach his eyes. Deep within his brown eyes lies an undisguised weariness, and a highly focused, radar-like observation that constantly scans the entire scene. Every joke, every seemingly casual pat on the shoulder, carries a cautious probe, a constant assessment of the team's overall mood, especially that of the person in the corner—

Snow Village Moon White has arrived.

He arrived at the gymnasium on time, dressed in a neatly pressed tracksuit, his short, moon-white hair perfectly styled, as if the dramatic loss of control the previous night had never happened. He silently completed his warm-up, silently performed his basic exercises, silently received the ball from his teammate, and silently spiked it out. His movements remained standard, even more precise due to his excessive focus, carrying an almost ruthless efficiency.

But the aura emanating from him was even colder than when he first transferred, as if all the ice that had barely melted had been refreezed overnight, and thickened several times over. It was an invisible, absolute barrier that rejected any form of approach or inquiry. His emerald eyes were lowered, his gaze fixed on the ground or the volleyball, avoiding even a moment's eye contact with anyone. His jawline was taut, his lips pressed into a bloodless line, and he resembled a string stretched to its limit, ready to snap at any moment.

Anyone attempting to approach within two meters of him would feel an almost tangible, oppressive aura that kept strangers at bay. During a practice session, Yakinibu Hide accidentally passed the ball a little too close to him. Although Yukimura Tsukishiro didn't make any obvious attempt to dodge, the instantaneous tension in his muscles and the sudden chill in his eyes made Yakinibu Hide abruptly stop in his tracks, instinctively taking a half-step back. Kunimi Hideki maintained an even greater distance, his languid face revealing no emotion, but his movements subtly avoided any path that might intersect with Yukimura Tsukishiro's.

Oikawa Tetsu witnessed it all. His heart felt like it was being soaked in a bitter liquid, tightening in waves. He saw Yukimura Tsukishiro unconsciously rubbing the bandage wrapped around his wrist when no one was looking—a small gesture when he was extremely insecure. He saw Yukimura Tsukishiro's brow furrow almost imperceptibly when he landed after a jump, perhaps because he had strained a muscle from his own intense movements the night before. He also saw that even in defensive coordination practice, which required the most communication, Yukimura Tsukishiro had completely reverted to his initial, completely silent state, using only the most basic body language to communicate, as if he had become that sophisticated machine that had never been connected to the network.

Unlike usual, Oikawa Tetsu didn't approach him with a bright smile and the affectionate "Yuki-chan." He didn't try to break the ice with jokes, didn't forcefully offer him a sports drink, and didn't even linger his gaze on him. He knew that any form of attention at this moment could be an unbearable burden for Yukimura Tsukishiro, a reminder of the unbearable and out-of-control events of the previous night.

He simply organized the training as usual, issuing instructions and setting up passes. But every pass he made to Yukimura Tsukishiro was more precise and consistent than ever before, carrying a silent, reassuring sense of trust, as if telling him: no matter what happens, the ball will still be passed to the most suitable position, and I am still here. In addition, he restrained all impulses to get closer.

The morning training session ended in an unusual silence. The team members dispersed to wash up and prepare for the day's lessons. The atmosphere in the locker room remained somewhat stagnant, with conversations conducted in hushed tones, conveying a deliberate attempt to maintain a normalcy.

Yukimura Tsukihiro was the first to pack her things and get up to leave almost immediately. Without lingering for a moment, her white figure quickly disappeared at the end of the corridor, as if staying even a second longer would be suffocating.

Oikawa Tetsu watched him leave until his figure was completely out of sight, then let out a barely audible sigh and slowly walked back to his locker. He took a small box wrapped in delicate light green paper from the side pocket of his backpack, tied with a silver ribbon in a neat knot. Inside was his signature chocolate lemon tart—a sweet and slightly tart treat with a light texture—which he had deliberately taken a detour to buy from that hard-to-get-a-reservation dessert shop after training yesterday. It was one of the few flavors that Yukimura Tsukishiro clearly preferred.

He held the box, not leaving immediately, but leaning against the cold metal cabinet, his fingertips unconsciously tracing the smooth surface of the wrapping paper, making a soft rustling sound. His gaze fell on the shoe cabinet numbered 9, belonging to Yukimura Tsukihiro, not far away, his eyes shifting with complex emotions. Worry, heartache, a strong desire to protect the other person, and the helplessness of last night's fruitless search all intertwined and churned within him.

He knew that what Yukimura Tsukishiro needed most right now was space and time. But he couldn't just do nothing and let that guy lick his wounds alone in the cold fortress. The thought of that silent, self-imposed pain was suffocating.

Finally, he took a deep breath, as if making a firm decision. He walked to shoe cabinet number 9 and opened the door with extremely light and careful movements—the inside was as neat and empty as ever, with only a pair of meticulously placed indoor shoes. He gently and straightened the delicate box tied with a ribbon next to the shoes. The light green packaging looked exceptionally fresh and soft against the dark interior of the shoe cabinet, like a tender leaf thrown into a stagnant pool.

He left no note or words. He knew that Yukimura Tsukishiro would understand who had put it there. This was no longer the teasing and probing "feeding" of the past, but a silent declaration: I see your pain, I respect your boundaries, I won't interfere, but I'm here. A little bit of sweetness you like might slightly dispel some of the bitterness.

After doing all this, Oikawa Tetsu gently closed the locker door, as if nothing had happened. He slung his backpack over his shoulder, greeted Iwaizumi, and left the locker room. His steps still looked relaxed, but his silhouette carried a heavier weight than usual.

The bell rang for the first class, and students rushed into the teaching building. Yukimura Tsukihiro appeared at the end of the corridor, head down, walking quickly as if trying to avoid the flow of people. He walked to his shoe locker, took out his key, and clicked open the door.

Then, he stopped moving.

Those emerald eyes clearly reflected the incongruous, meticulously packaged light green box inside the shoe cabinet. Sunlight streamed in from the corridor window, falling precisely on the box, the silver ribbon refracting into shimmering fragments of light.

Xuecun Yuebai froze on the spot, as if struck by a silent lightning bolt. His breath caught almost imperceptibly for a moment, and his fingers gripping the key tightened slightly, his knuckles turning white. The clatter of classmates hurriedly changing shoes, their laughter, the clanging of cabinet doors opening and closing… all of this seemed to fade away in an instant, becoming distant and blurred. His entire world seemed to consist only of that box lying quietly in the shoe cabinet, emitting a faint, sweet fragrance.

He didn't touch it immediately, but simply stared at it quietly and motionlessly. In his icy green eyes, like a deep pool tossed with a stone, a sudden and complex turmoil arose. Incredulous astonishment flashed within, a faint, almost instinctive craving for sweets, but more than that, a profound, almost unbearable... helplessness.

He expected to see looks of fear, disgust, inquiry, or even pity. He thought that after last night's unbearable outburst, exposing his ugliest inner scars to the world, the fragile yet warm daily connections he had just established would shatter completely, and he would return to that isolated island where everyone kept their distance.

He was even prepared to rebuild an even higher and thicker ice wall.

This was the only thing I hadn't expected.

This silent, unconditional care, carefully placed in a private space...

It was there quietly, without the oppressive force of words or the unsettling presence of a gaze. It simply existed, with a stubborn gentleness, silently piercing through his newly reinforced defenses and precisely striking the softest, most unguarded corner of his heart.

A sudden, intense, and unfamiliar heat surged into his nose and eyes, forcing him to abruptly lower his head and blink forcefully several times to suppress the unexpected tears. He quickly glanced around to make sure no one had noticed his outburst, then reached out, his fingertips trembling almost imperceptibly, and lightly touched the smooth wrapping paper.

As if electrocuted, he quickly withdrew his finger.

After hesitating for a few seconds, he finally reached out and took the box. It wasn't large, but it felt incredibly heavy. He gripped it tightly in his hand, the light green wrapping paper appearing even brighter against his pale fingertips.

Then, almost as if fleeing, he quickly changed his shoes, clutched the box tightly to his chest as if guarding some fragile treasure, lowered his head, and hurried towards the classroom. His heart was pounding, and his ears involuntarily flushed red, forming a strange contrast with his still expressionless, pale face.

All morning, the light green box remained quietly in the innermost part of his backpack, like a silent and warm secret. Even without opening it, he seemed to feel the presence of the dessert, like a small, faintly glowing ember, stubbornly burning in his cold and chaotic heart.

Oikawa Toru...senpai.

The name swept through his mind, bringing a complex and surging warmth, as well as a deeper sense of bewilderment that he could not yet fully comprehend.