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

The afternoon sun streamed through the gymnasium's high windows, its rays slicing into slanted beams. Countless dust particles danced and swirled silently within them, like golden stardust stirred by invisible air currents. The air was thick with familiar scents—sweat, floor wax, the slight odor of leather balls, and a faint smell of disinfectant. The muffled thud of volleyballs hitting the floor, the sharp scrapes of sneakers against the pavement, the short shouts of the boys… these everyday sounds still filled the space, yet they couldn't dispel the thick, oppressive atmosphere that had lingered since the previous night.

Training proceeded in a deliberate, almost mechanical "normal" manner. Iwaizumi's instructions remained concise and powerful, Oikawa Toru's set shots were still precise and tricky, Matsukawa Kazushige and Hanamaki Takahiro's blocks were still perfectly coordinated, Kindaichi Yutaro's spikes were still full of power, and Kunimi Hideki continued to adhere to his principle of "low fuel consumption and high efficiency." But a certain indescribable restraint and caution, like a transparent film, separated everyone, especially around that moon-white figure.

Yukimura Tsukishiro silently went through each training session. His jumps remained astonishingly high, his spikes as powerful as ever, and his defensive movements as swift as ever. But he had completely reverted to being an island, even more closed off than when he first joined the club. All his reactions were based on the most basic tactical instructions and ball trajectory judgments, without a single superfluous interaction belonging to the "team." His eyes were always lowered, or focused solely on the incoming volleyball, avoiding eye contact with anyone. The subtle dependence and softening traces that had quietly built up through sweets and daily feeding seemed to have been blown away without a trace by a cold wind overnight, leaving only a harder and colder shell.

Oikawa Tetsu witnessed it all. He continued to play the role of the energetic ace setter, trying to liven up the atmosphere with smiles and jokes, accurately setting the ball to the most comfortable position for each attacker. But when he tossed the ball toward Yukimura Tsukishiro, a barely perceptible heaviness and worry flickered deep within his ever-smiling brown eyes. He felt more clearly than anyone else that the invisible wall had not only not disappeared, but had actually thickened. And the silent care he had given by placing the shoe cabinet in the morning seemed to have failed to truly reach the person he had hoped for.

During a short break between training sessions, the team members sat in twos and threes on the sidelines to replenish their fluids. Xuecun Yuebai walked alone to the farthest corner, turned his back to the others, picked up his water bottle and took small sips, his gaze fixed on the empty training field outside the window, leaving only a tense, unapproachable figure.

Oikawa Tetsu tightened the cap on his water bottle, his gaze involuntarily following the lonely figure, his brows furrowing almost imperceptibly. Just then, Iwaizumi Ichi walked over, handing him a clean towel, and gestured towards the corner with his eyes, lowering his voice and frowning, "The usual?"

Oikawa Toru took the towel, hastily wiped the sweat from his face, sighed, and his voice carried a rare hint of helplessness: "Yeah. It's worse than at the beginning. It's completely isolated." He paused, then added in an even lower voice, "I put lemon tarts in his shoe cabinet this morning... I don't know if he took them."

Iwaizumi paused for a moment, his rugged face grave. He didn't respond immediately, but instead took a sip from his water bottle, his sharp gaze sweeping across the entire gymnasium, as if to make sure no one was paying attention to their conversation. Then, he turned to look at Oikawa Toru, his eyes becoming unusually serious and focused.

"Oikawa," Iwaizumi's voice was deep and steady, carrying an undeniable seriousness, "I've thought it through carefully. Everything from Yukimura joining the club until now."

Oikawa Tetsu looked at him, noticing the unusual tone in Iwaizumi's voice, and also suppressed the remaining relaxed expression on his face: "What are you thinking about, Iwa-chan?"

Instead of answering directly, Iwaizumi listed the clues one by one in a low voice, his brow furrowing more as he spoke: "The first time we met, he was unusually sensitive to anyone approaching from behind. During training, at any time, if someone approaches from his blind spot, all the muscles in his body tense up instantly, like a startled cat. Last time he was injured, the way he bandaged himself was so skilled that it didn't seem like a high school student, and... you and I both saw that old scar on his back."

Oikawa Tetsu held his breath slightly, nodded, and his gaze darkened. He had already noticed these details and pondered them repeatedly in his mind.

Iwaizumi continued, lowering his voice even further: "He hates crowded, noisy, enclosed spaces; last night at the yakiniku restaurant was proof of that. That time we were trapped under the eaves of the gymnasium in the rain, the moment the rain started to fall, his face turned pale; he was clearly not feeling well. And…" He paused, his gaze sharpening as he looked at Oikawa Tetsu, "Do you remember his reaction the day he first transferred here, when he heard your bicycle bell?"

Oikawa Tetsuya was suddenly startled. The scene of that twilight instantly flashed clearly before his eyes—the white-haired boy suddenly stopped, looked in the direction of the sound, and an incomprehensible shock and confusion flashed in his emerald eyes... That bell sound seemed to have a special meaning for him.

"These things, taken individually, might all be explainable." Iwaizumi's voice pulled Oikawa Toru back from his memories. His expression was more solemn than ever before. "But when you connect all the dots—the excessive fear of being touched from behind, the aversion to darkness and claustrophobic spaces, the abnormal reaction to certain sounds, the old injuries on his body of unknown origin that were definitely not caused by sports, and that... vigilance and self-preservation instinct far beyond that of ordinary people..."

He took a deep breath, as if to utter a guess that even he found hard to believe: "This isn't like a typical personality quirk or strange habits. It's more like..." He searched for the right words and finally found that precise yet heavy term, "...post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). And the kind of deep-seated mark left after experiencing a very serious event."

The clamor in the stadium seemed to vanish in an instant. Oikawa Tetsu felt a chill slowly creep up his spine, making the hairs on his arms stand on end. Iwaizumi Hajime's words were like a key, abruptly unlocking the veil of mystery surrounding Yukimura Tsukishiro that had always lingered in his mind, revealing a deeper, more unsettling core. He had always felt that Tsukishiro harbored a secret, but had never dared to delve deeper into that direction.

"And last night," Iwaizumi's voice pulled him back from his icy thoughts, his tone becoming even lower, carrying a vague and uncertain feeling of recalling the past, "his reaction... that extreme fear and aggression... I feel like... I've seen it before, a long time ago..."

Oikawa Tetsu suddenly looked up at Iwaizumi Hajime, his heart clenching as if something had abruptly seized it: "Seen it? When?"

Iwaizumi's gaze drifted into the distance, as if he were struggling to stir up the deep pool of long-buried memories. A rare look of confusion and uncertainty appeared on his rugged face: "About... ten years ago? Or when I was even younger... I can't remember, it's too blurry..."

He raised his hand and unconsciously rubbed his temples, trying to recall those fragmented childhood memories: "It seemed to be a rainy day... or evening? I can't remember... I only remember a child, very small, with messy white hair, and eyes... I think they were green? I can't remember... huddled in a corner by the roadside, soaking wet, and seemingly injured, looking very scared, hiding from anyone who approached, like a frightened little animal..."

Oikawa Toru's pupils suddenly contracted. White hair…green eyes…utter terror…

Iwaizumi, oblivious to Oikawa Tetsu's sudden change in expression, remained lost in that hazy memory: "We think we had just finished training? Pushing our bikes...yes, bikes! And then we...we think we took him home? We gave him something to eat...I think there was cake too? He was starving...and then we called the police..."

"--handkerchief!"

Oikawa Tetsu suddenly interrupted him, his voice trembling slightly with extreme shock and a sudden, unbelievable premonition. Those hazy fragments of childhood memories, buried by the dust of time, were abruptly activated by Iwaizumi Hajime's words, becoming suddenly clear as if illuminated by lightning!

That rainy night, that small figure huddled in the street corner, shivering, white-haired, green-eyed, filled with terror… the mother serving up warm milk and fluffy cake, their aroma sweet… the father's steady voice as he called the police… and…

Oikawa Tetsu's breath caught in his throat. The image of his mother carefully wiping his dirty, frightened face and fingers with a clean, soft, pale blue handkerchief flashed before his eyes. He could even recall her gentle murmur: "Oh, use this to wipe yourself. Look, there's a little volleyball I embroidered on it. Tetsu-chan loves volleyballs..."

A pale blue handkerchief… in the bottom right corner… hand-embroidered… a small volleyball…

Every detail is like a perfectly precise gear, fitting together seamlessly!

Oikawa Tetsu's face turned deathly pale. He abruptly reached out and grabbed Iwaizumi Hajime's arm with a force that startled Iwaizumi Hajime. His eyes widened, filled with immense, almost overflowing shock and realization, and his voice was dry, as if it had been rubbed against sandpaper:

"Feed Oikawa?" Iwaizumi was startled by his violent reaction, grabbing his arm with her other hand, her brows furrowed. "What's wrong? What are you thinking about?"

Oikawa Tetsu seemed not to hear his question; his entire being was seized by the possibility that had swept in, almost overturning all his understanding. His lips trembled slightly, his gaze unfocused, and he murmured to himself, as if confirming a shocking truth with Iwaizumi Hajime:

"Iwa-chan... I think I remember now..."

His voice was low and slow, each word seemingly carrying a tremendous weight, with a trembling certainty that even he himself could hardly believe:

"The child we found ten years ago... that child with white hair, green eyes, covered in wounds, and who never spoke..."

He took a deep breath, looked up, and met Iwaizumi's confused yet serious eyes directly in his gaze. He then uttered, word by word, the guess that had almost stopped his heart:

"...It's him, Yukimura Tsukishiro."