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

Iwaizumi's words were like a boulder thrown into a deep pool, stirring up towering waves in Oikawa Toru's heart. Those vague fragments of childhood memories were instantly activated, connected, and made clear—the rainy night, the huddled white-haired child, the terrified green eyes, the cake and milk at home, the blue and white handkerchief embroidered with volleyball patterns by his mother... Every detail pointed seamlessly to an unbelievable yet incredibly real answer.

Yukimura Tsukishiro. Yuki-chan.

It was the wounded, frightened child they had rescued by chance ten years ago.

The impact of this realization was so immense that Oikawa Tetsuya was momentarily stunned, as if the sounds of the entire world had suddenly faded away, leaving only the thunderous roar of his own heart, pounding wildly in his chest, almost shattering his ribs. His fingers, gripping Iwaizumi's arm, tightened unconsciously, his knuckles turning white from the excessive force. His brown eyes were wide open, churning with a tidal wave of shock, realization, a profound pity, and an indescribable tremor, like the quiet turning of the gears of fate.

"Iwa-chan..." His voice was terribly dry, almost incoherent, and he had to exert great effort to continue speaking. "Are you... sure? Those details... the handkerchief..."

Iwaizumi's expression was equally grave. He gripped Oikawa Tetsu's arm, his steady strength attempting to soothe the other's agitation, though his own heart was far from calm. "The details match up. White hair, green eyes, that... look of extreme fear. And that handkerchief, I vaguely remember, Auntie did give him a handkerchief, it seemed to have some kind of pattern on it..." He paused, his rugged brows furrowing tightly, "Most importantly, that reaction... Yukimura's reaction last night, almost exactly the same as that child ten years ago."

No more evidence is needed. This instinctive, ingrained fear cannot be faked. Ten years seem to have been compressed by an invisible hand, and the pale figures from two different points in time overlap at this moment.

Oikawa Tetsu abruptly released his grip, took a half-step back, and forcefully wiped his face, as if trying to clear the jumbled thoughts in his mind. After the initial shock, an even more turbulent and complex emotion quickly swept over him—it turned out that the inexplicable concern and attraction that had existed since their first meeting was not unfounded; it turned out that his subconscious urge to get closer, to protect, and to melt that frozen feeling with his smile stemmed from that twilight ten years ago; it turned out that the name "Yuki-chan" had been destined all along.

When he looked up again at the lonely white figure across the court, his gaze had completely changed. It was no longer merely the appreciation and curiosity of a senior for a junior, nor simply the desire to polish an "interesting rough stone," but also mixed with a heavy and burning weight called "fate" and a protective instinct. He finally understood where the thickness of the ice wall surrounding Yukimura Tsukishiro came from, and finally touched the old wound hidden deep beneath the ice, one that had never healed.

"This matter," Iwaizumi's voice pulled him back from his turbulent thoughts, his tone extremely serious, "ends here. Until we uncover the whole truth, absolutely no third person can know, especially Yukimura himself." His sharp gaze swept over Oikawa Toru, "He's in a state where he can't withstand any further stimulation. What happened last night must never happen again."

Oikawa Tetsu nodded heavily, took a deep breath, and tried to calm his still rapid heartbeat and trembling fingertips. "I know." His voice lowered, carrying an unprecedented seriousness and determination. "I know what to do."

The short break ended, the whistle blew, and training continued.

Oikawa Tetsu walked back onto the court, his steps seemingly much more steady than before. His usual, slightly frivolous smile returned, but now it seemed imbued with a deeper core. His gaze still followed Yukimura Tsukihiro, but the meaning within it was different. It was an extreme, almost cautious, attention, every glance seemingly calculated, conveying silent support while absolutely avoiding any element that could be misinterpreted as pity, inquiry, or pressure.

He still delivered each ball with pinpoint accuracy. The ball he passed to Yukimura Tsukishiro was more stable and comfortable than ever before, carrying an unspoken understanding and trust, as if silently telling him: no matter what your past is like, at this moment on the court, you only need to trust my ball-setting and focus on the moment of impact.

However, Yukimura Tsukishiro seemed completely immersed in his own world, oblivious to all changes in the outside world, or rather, deliberately blocking out all external signals. He ran, jumped, spiked, and defended mechanically, each movement textbook perfect, yet coldly devoid of any extra emotion. His emerald eyes followed the trajectory of the volleyball blankly, revealing no emotion whatsoever—neither the lingering fear of yesterday's loss of control nor the complex new emotions that Oikawa Tetsu had detected in his eyes. He was like a precision machine programmed with a fixed sequence of instructions, executing them efficiently and coldly, maintaining an absolute distance from everything around him.

This complete isolation caused Oikawa Toru a subtle, sharp pain, like a needle pricking his heart. But remembering Iwaizumi Hajime's words, he suppressed all urges to go forward and say something. He simply remained silent, consistently and reliably passing the ball to that perfect position, again and again.

The training session moved into a scrimmage. The atmosphere became slightly more lively, but the oppressive atmosphere surrounding Yukimura Tsukishiro remained palpable. When his teammates played with him, their movements were marked by obvious caution and hesitation; the timing of passes and screens was always subtly off, as if they were afraid of triggering some unseen switch again.

A chance to score, the ball soaring high between Yukimura Tsukishiro and Watari Chikaji in the back row. Normally, based on their tacit understanding, Watari Chikaji would shout "I'll take it!" without hesitation, and Yukimura Tsukishiro would quickly give way or prepare to attack. But this time, Watari Chikaji clearly hesitated for a moment, his shout delayed by half a second. Yukimura Tsukishiro seemed to completely block out the outside noise, rushing towards the landing point purely on instinct.

"Watch out!" Oikawa Tetsu's voice suddenly rang out, carrying a hint of barely perceptible tension.

Yukimura Tsukishiro and Watari Chikaji almost collided, and the ball landed awkwardly.

"I'm sorry! It's my fault!" Watari apologized hastily, his face showing regret and a hint of lingering fear.

Yukimura Tsukishiro merely glanced at him indifferently, offering no response, as if the collision had never occurred, and silently retreated to his seat. That utter, detached indifference was more disheartening and oppressive than any accusation.

Oikawa Tetsu retrieved the ball and walked to the net, trying to maintain a relaxed expression. "It's okay, it's okay! Remember to speak up earlier next time, Watari!" He patted Watari Chikaharu on the shoulder, but his gaze quickly and worriedly swept over Yukimura Tsukishiro. The other man didn't react.

Iwaizumi stopped the match, his brow furrowed. He wasn't oblivious to the awkwardness and disconnect in the team's coordination, but he knew even better that the core of the problem wasn't technique, but rather the white-haired boy who had completely shut himself off. Forcing Yukimura Tsukishiro to perform fluid teamwork at this moment was nothing short of delusional.

"Take a five-minute break! Everyone, take a break and adjust!" Iwaizumi ordered in a deep voice.

The team members breathed a sigh of relief and headed to the sidelines. Xuecun Yuebai remained alone, walking to a corner away from the others, picking up his water bottle, and silently replenishing his fluids with his back to everyone. His back was upright yet stiff, like an ice sculpture devoid of any life.

Oikawa Tetsu unscrewed his water bottle but didn't drink. His gaze was fixed on that lonely figure, his heart feeling as if it were being gripped tightly by an invisible hand, a dull ache spreading through him. He knew what kind of turbulent waves and inner struggles were unfolding behind that icy wall. The fear of that rainy night ten years ago, combined with the shame and helplessness of last night's loss of control, was enough to drag anyone into the abyss.

He could almost imagine that Yukimura Tsukihiro was currently doing his best to maintain a calm facade, while his heart was probably already a battlefield of chaos. The lemon tart he had placed in the shoe cabinet that morning, that silent care, seemed unable to penetrate this heavy barrier and reach the heart that was fighting alone.

A powerful, almost irrational impulse surged through Oikawa Tetsuya's heart—he wanted to go to Yukimura Tsukishiro, to tell him he knew, to tell him he didn't have to bear it all alone, to tell him they were there ten years ago, and they were still there now. But he restrained himself. Iwaizumi Hajime's warning still echoed in his ears. At this moment, any form of "truth" or "comfort" would be an unbearable burden for Yukimura Tsukishiro, enough to utterly destroy him.

All he could do was wait. Only through this silent, distant, yet unwavering presence could he tell the other person: I am here, I will not leave, I am waiting for you to be ready.

The five-minute break ended, and training continued. Yukimura Tsukihiro continued to silently complete each movement, like a perfect shell without a soul. Oikawa Tetsu continued to accurately throw each ball, his gaze always following him, his eyes filled with complex and deep emotions—a mixture of shock, pity, protectiveness, and some quietly growing, burning feeling that even he himself was not yet fully aware of.

As the sun set, it bathed the gymnasium in a warm golden light. The whistle finally blew, signaling the end of training. The team members, as if granted a reprieve, breathed a sigh of relief and began packing up their equipment.

Xuecun Yuebai was the first to pick up his things. Without pausing, he walked straight toward the entrance of the gymnasium, his white figure quickly disappearing into the shadows of the corridor without looking back.

Oikawa Tetsu stood there, staring in the direction he had disappeared, motionless for a long time. Until Iwaizumi walked over and patted him hard on the back.

"Let's go, Trash Chuan. Don't look anymore."

Oikawa Tetsu slowly withdrew his gaze, took a deep breath of the air filled with the smell of sweat and leather, and responded softly, "Ah."

He knew that some answers couldn't be rushed. Some ice could only be melted slowly by the sun. And he was willing to be that persistent, silent ray of sunlight.