Chapter Text
The late afternoon sun draped the Mikasa Resort in a golden glow, the poolside area basking in its soft warmth. Most of the guests had retreated to their rooms or the beach, leaving the space unusually quiet. Bokuto Kotaro stood near the edge of the pool, his silhouette framed by the shimmering water. His shoulders were squared, but his normally animated face carried an uncharacteristic weight.
For the better part of the day, Bokuto had thrown himself into his lifeguarding duties, hoping that the familiar rhythm of his work might quiet the storm brewing in his head. But the distraction had been fleeting, and now, with his shift over and nothing to occupy his hands or mind, the unease was back.
Nori.
He couldn’t stop thinking about her.
Bokuto prided himself on being an open book, a man who wore his heart on his sleeve and met life head-on. But what he felt for Shikako Nori was unfamiliar, a confusing tangle of admiration, curiosity, and something deeper that he couldn’t name. The hours they’d spent together the other night had left him exhilarated, inspired. For the first time in a long time, he’d felt truly seen.
And now?
Now she was gone, disappeared for the entire day without so much as a word.
Was she OK? Had something happened or was he worrying unnecessarily? After all, it wasn't the first time she'd behaved like this.
Had he said something wrong? Or maybe he’d misread everything, and she didn’t feel the same connection he did.
He thought that this time they were getting closer...
Bokuto let out a heavy sigh, staring at the rippling surface of the pool. I don’t get it. Everything felt so... easy. So right. Why does it feel like she’s avoiding me again now?
That’s when he noticed Yukie sitting alone at one of the small tables near the pool, a magazine spread out in front of her.
“Yukie-san!” Bokuto called out, his voice breaking through the peaceful hum of the poolside.
Yukie glanced up, startled at first, before her expression melted into a knowing smile. “Bokuto-san. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Bokuto walked over, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his lifeguard tank top. Finally, he looked up, his golden eyes clouded with uncertainty. “Have you... seen Nori-san today?”
Yukie’s smile widened, and she leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “Oh, so that’s what this is about.”
“What?” Kotaro asked, blinking.
“You’re looking for her,” Yukie said, tilting her head, her voice tinged with amusement. “Should I be surprised?”
Bokuto rubbed his neck again, his eyes darting away for a moment. “I just... I didn’t see her at all today, and I wanted to make sure she’s okay. That’s all.”
Yukie leaned forward, resting her chin in her hand as she studied him. “Just checking on her, huh?”
“Yeah,” Kotaro said quickly, though his tone betrayed his nerves. “That’s it. Just... checking.”
Yukie chuckled softly, clearly enjoying his awkwardness. “You know, Bokuto-san, you’re not very good at hiding things. Why don’t you just tell me what’s really on your mind?”
Bokuto hesitated, his golden eyes flickering with a mix of emotions: uncertainty, curiosity, and something softer he wasn’t quite ready to name. “It’s just... I feel like maybe she’s avoiding me again. Or maybe I did something wrong. I don’t know.”
Yukie’s teasing expression softened slightly as she watched him fumble for words. There was something endearing about Bokuto’s openness, his lack of pretense.
“She’s not avoiding you,” Yukie said, her tone gentler now. “She just gets lost in her own world sometimes.”
“Yeah?” Kotaro asked, his gaze sharpening with interest.
Yukie nodded, though her playful edge returned as she added, “Although, she did spend the whole afternoon at Nishinoya-san’s place.”
Bokuto stiffened, his expression flickering with something unreadable. “Nishinoya’s?”
“Mmhmm,” Yukie said, feigning nonchalance as she flipped a page in her magazine. “She went there after lunch with Saeko-san. Something about wanting to hear his stories or... I don’t know. She seemed pretty interested from her texts.”
Bokuto’s mouth opened as if to say something, but no words came out. His usual confidence faltered, replaced by a tangle of thoughts he couldn’t quite unravel. His mind raced. He pictured Nori sitting with Nishinoya, laughing at his wild tales, her eyes lighting up the way they had when she’d talked to him.
“Oh.” he said finally, his voice quiet.
Yukie tilted her head, her curiosity piqued by the sudden change in his demeanor. “You okay, Bokuto-san?”
“I’m fine,” he said quickly, though his expression told a different story.
Yukie leaned back again, studying him with a knowing smile. “You like her, don’t you?”
Bokuto’s head snapped up, his wide eyes meeting hers. “What? No! I mean, yeah, I like her, but not like that. I just... she’s interesting, you know? And I... I like talking to her.”
“Interesting?” Yukie repeated, clearly unconvinced.
“Yes! Interesting!” Bokuto insisted, though the faint blush creeping up his neck betrayed him.
“Sure, sure,” Yukie said, though her smirk suggested she wasn’t convinced. “Whatever you say.”
She chuckled, her smile softening. “You’re not very good at hiding things, you know? But let me tell you one thing about Nori: she needs her own time to figure things out.”
Kotaro looked down at the table, his fingers drumming against the wood. “What if she doesn’t want to figure me out?”
Yukie’s gaze softened, and for a moment, her teasing demeanor faded. “She does, Bokuto-san. Trust me. Just... give her time. And maybe try talking to her again, instead of brooding by the pool.”
Bokuto let out a small laugh, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “Yeah. Maybe you’re right.”
Yukie smiled, but her mischievous glint returned as she added, “But seriously, Bokuto-san, try to keep it together. You’re gonna scare off the guests if you look this mopey.”
Kotaro laughed again, louder this time, and stood up from the table. “Thanks, Yukie-san. You’re pretty good at this advice stuff.”
“Just one of the many things I’m unfairly good at!” Yukie said with a wink.
As Bokuto strolled off, his mood felt lighter, but the tightness in his chest was still there. He wasn't quite sure what he'd say to Nori the next time he bumped into her, but he knew one thing for certain: he wanted to see her again.
As he walked away, Yukie watched him with a mix of amusement and satisfaction. Let’s see how this plays out, she thought, her smile lingering as she turned back to her magazine.
*
The path to the resort’s luxury suites wound through a lush stretch of greenery, the sea breeze carrying the faint scent of salt and hibiscus. Tobio strode purposefully along the tall palms that lined the trail toward the resort’s luxury villas. His toolbox swung at his side, and his expression was as stern as ever, though there was a faint hint of annoyance in the crease of his brow.
Being sent to fix a wi-fi issue in one of the resort’s most expensive suites wasn’t unusual for a handyman like him. But what grated on his nerves was the reason he was doing it alone.
Hinata.
That idiot was off wasting time again, running himself ragged with Oikawa’s endless whims instead of doing their actual work. Kageyama had no intention of letting himself fall into the same trap.
He adjusted his grip on the toolbox, his irritation simmering under his usual stoic demeanor. It’s just a job, he reminded himself. Quick in and out.
The suite came into view, perched elegantly on a small rise overlooking the ocean. It wasn’t overly flashy, but it exuded an understated luxury that spoke to its exclusivity. The architecture blended seamlessly with the Okinawan landscape: soft wood tones, open spaces, and sliding shoji screens that invited the outdoors in. The sound of waves lapping against the shore provided a tranquil soundtrack, interrupted only by the occasional rustle of palm fronds in the breeze.
Kageyama paused briefly at the entrance, his gaze sweeping over the minimalist details of the suite. For a moment, his annoyance gave way to curiosity. Who could afford a place like this?
He knocked on the sliding wooden door, the sound echoing faintly. A moment later, it slid open to reveal a tall man with vibrant red hair and a mischievous smile.
“Ah, you must be the handyman!” Tendo Satori said, stepping aside with a dramatic flourish. “Welcome, welcome. Come in. The wi-fi’s been throwing tantrums again.”
Kageyama nodded, stepping inside. The suite’s interior was a masterclass in Okinawan-inspired design: bamboo accents, tatami mats, and large windows that framed the turquoise ocean like a living painting. A few pieces of art featuring traditional Ryukyu motifs added splashes of color to the otherwise serene palette.
“Right this way,” Tendo said, leading Kageyama toward the living area. “Our dear Wakatoshi’s been grumbling about the internet all morning. Can’t have the actor of the century dealing with bad wi-fi, can we?”
Kageyama frowned slightly, his curiosity piqued. “Wakatoshi?”
Tendo turned, his grin widening. “Oh, you don’t know? You’re about to meet a legend. Ushijima Wakatoshi. Heard of him?”
Kageyama stared at him, his usually stoic expression breaking into something akin to shock. Of course he knew who Ushijima Wakatoshi was: one of Japan’s most acclaimed actors, known for his superior performances and near-unshakable demeanor. “Ushijima... the Ushijima? The actor?”
“The one and only.” Tendo said, clearly enjoying Kageyama’s reaction.
Before Kageyama could respond, another figure entered the room, his presence immediately commanding attention.
Ushijima Wakatoshi was every bit as imposing in real life as he was on screen. His broad shoulders and calm demeanor filled the space, and his sharp eyes seemed to take in everything with quiet intensity.
“Is this the handyman?” Ushijima asked, his deep voice carrying an air of authority.
“Yes, yes, the wi-fi hero,” Tendo said cheerfully. “He’s here to save the day!”
Kageyama quickly recovered, straightening his posture and fixing his usual serious expression in place. “Yes, sir. I’ll take a look at the router.”
Ushijima nodded, his piercing gaze settling on Kageyama for a moment before he moved to sit at the low table near the windows, a script open in front of him.
Kageyama focused on the task, his hands working quickly and efficiently. But he couldn’t help but steal glances at Ushijima, who sat at the dining table reading a script radiating a quiet confidence that was both intimidating and magnetic. He felt a faint flicker of admiration, an acknowledgment of the man’s hard-earned success.
But Tobio didn’t let himself linger on it: he wasn’t about to turn into another Hinata, fawning over someone and forgetting his job.
After a few minutes, he finished resetting the router. “It should be working now,” he said, standing and brushing off his hands. “If the issue happens again, it might be the provider.”
Ushijima closed his script, looking up at Kageyama. “You’re efficient.”
“Thank you, sir.” Kageyama replied, his voice steady despite the unexpected praise.
“You work for the resort?” Wakatoshi asked, his tone curious but neutral.
“Yes,” Tobio said, his brows furrowing slightly. “I’m... one of the handymen.”
Ushijima nodded thoughtfully. “It’s good to see someone taking pride in their work. Too often, people rush and leave things unfinished.”
Kageyama blinked, caught off guard by the compliment. “I just... try to do my job well.”
“That’s important,” Wakatoshi said simply, standing and extending a hand. “Thank you for your help.”
Kageyama hesitated for only a second before shaking Ushijima’s hand. The man’s grip was firm, steady, exactly what Kageyama would’ve expected.
Tendo clapped his hands together. “Well, that’s one crisis averted. Thanks, handyman. You’ve saved our sanity! If the wi-fi acts up again, we’ll call for you. Wakatoshi’s terrible with tech.”
Ushijima frowned slightly but said nothing, earning a laugh from Tendo.
Kageyama packed up his tools, giving a curt nod as he headed for the door.
Once outside, he took a deep breath, the salty breeze filling his lungs as he descended the stone steps. His heart was still pounding slightly, not from nerves, but from the weight of realization.
Ushijima Wakatoshi.
The pieces fell into place almost instantly. The mysterious “big star” Oikawa and Hinata had been trying to uncover? It had to be Ushijima.
Kageyama smirked as he reached the main path, his mind already turning.
“Well, well.” he muttered to himself. “Looks like I’ve got some information worth keeping.”
As he made his way back down the path, his mind raced with possibilities. He wasn’t sure how he’d play this card yet, but one thing was certain: he wasn’t about to let Oikawa or Hinata get the upper hand.
Let’s see how this plays out.
*
The Mikasa Resort kitchen was a cacophony of sound: knives clattered against cutting boards, pots hissed on the stove, and voices called out orders amidst the rhythmic hum of an industrial dishwasher. Amidst the chaos, Osamu Miya stood at the center, his sharp eyes darting over every detail as he worked on an array of dishes spread across the stainless-steel counter.
The air around him felt tense, charged with his brooding energy. He was deep in his head, his focus shifting between meticulously plating samples of new ideas for the Ryukyu-themed summer festival and reviewing the missteps of the day’s service. Every little thing seemed to set him off: a slightly overcooked piece of fish, a missing garnish, the clumsy noise of a tray being dropped in the back of the kitchen.
“Koganegawa!” Osamu’s sharp voice cut through the air like a knife.
The tall, lanky busboy froze mid-motion, holding a tray of clean utensils. His wide eyes darted toward Osamu, who was glaring at him with a level of intensity that could curdle milk.
“What?” Koganegawa stammered, his voice cracking.
“What did I tell ya about stackin’ those utensils too high? If they fall and scatter again, we’re gonna lose even more time!” Osamu snapped, pointing at the tray with a wooden spoon.
“I-I was just-”
“Just not payin’ attention, as usual.” Osamu interrupted, shaking his head. “Focus, Koganegawa. This ain’t a playground. Get it together!”
Koganegawa hurried off, mumbling apologies under his breath. The other kitchen staff exchanged uneasy glances but wisely avoided intervening.
Even the usually composed chef assistant, Fukunaga Shohei, known for his steady presence in the kitchen, seemed more focused than usual, his hands moving with calm precision as he worked through a tray of ingredients.
In the corner, the waiters, Komi Haruki, Goshiki Tsutomu and Kunimi Akira, were huddled together near the service counter, whispering about the uncharacteristic number of mistakes they’d made during lunch.
“Do you think he’s still mad about the missing side dishes?” Goshiki asked nervously, his voice barely above a whisper.
Komi rolled his eyes. “Of course he is. When isn’t he mad?”
Kunimi leaned lazily against the counter, his expression indifferent. “Just stay out of his way. It’ll blow over. Eventually.”
Osamu’s sharp ears caught their murmurs, and he turned toward them with a glare. “If y’all have time to gossip, ya have time to prep for dinner! Get a move on!”
The three waiters scattered immediately, practically sprinting back to their respective stations.
The tension in the kitchen was palpable, and everyone seemed to tread carefully, their movements deliberate and quiet. Everyone, that is, except Saeko Tanaka.
The door to the kitchen swung open, and Saeko strode in with her usual confident energy, a smirk playing on her lips. She wore her driver’s uniform with a casual air, her hair tied back in a loose ponytail. The staff practically parted like the Red Sea as she walked through, her presence cutting through the tension effortlessly.
“Hey, Osamu!” Saeko called, her voice bright and teasing.
Osamu looked up from his plating, his scowl softening almost instantly when he saw her. The shift was subtle but noticeable, his shoulders relaxing and his mouth twitching into the faintest hint of a smile.
“What’re you doin’ in my kitchen, Saeko-san?” he asked, his tone losing its edge.
“Just got back from Nishinoya’s place,” Saeko replied, leaning casually against the counter. “Figured I’d let you know he’s on board for the festival. Said he’s already preppin’ to supply the freshest catch.”
Osamu nodded, his irritation from earlier fading further. “Good. We’re gonna need it. The menu’s comin’ together, but it’s nothin’ without the right ingredients.”
Saeko tilted her head, eyeing the colorful array of dishes on the counter. “Speaking of the menu... are these for the festival?”
Osamu’s smirk grew as he picked up a small tasting spoon. “They are. Wanna try?”
“You even gotta ask?” Saeko quipped, her eyes lighting up.
Without waiting for a response, Osamu carefully plated a small sample of one of the dishes: a delicate sashimi of local white fish marinated in a tangy ponzu sauce, garnished with fresh seaweed and a touch of shikuwasa zest. He slid the plate toward her, handing her a pair of chopsticks.
Saeko took a bite, her expression shifting to one of delight. “Oh man, that’s good. The citrus kicks it up a notch.”
“That’s the idea.” Osamu said, crossing his arms and watching her reaction closely.
She pointed at the plate with her chopsticks. “What else ya got?”
Osamu chuckled, already preparing another sample: a mini taco filled with seared tuna, Okinawan bitter melon slaw, and a drizzle of miso aioli. Saeko didn’t hesitate, taking a bite and practically groaning with satisfaction.
“This is ridiculous,” she said, grinning. “If the festival food’s all like this, people are gonna lose their minds.”
“That’s the plan.” Osamu replied, though there was a flicker of something more in his eyes as he watched her enjoy his creations.
Saeko leaned on the counter, her playful smirk returning. “Y’know, Osamu, you’re a lot more tolerable when you’re feeding people.”
Osamu raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Maybe you’re just easier to deal with when you’ve got food in your mouth.”
She laughed, the sound bright and genuine, and for a moment, the tension in the kitchen seemed to disappear entirely.
The rest of the staff watched the exchange from a distance, whispering amongst themselves.
“Is he actually smiling?” Komi asked, his eyes wide.
“What’s her secret?” Goshiki muttered, utterly baffled. “She makes it look so easy.”
Kunimi shrugged, his expression as unreadable as ever. “Maybe we should just bring her in every time Osamu’s in a bad mood.”
Unaware of, or perhaps uninterested in, the chatter around them, Saeko finished the last of her tasting plate and straightened up.
“Alright, chef,” she said, her tone teasing. “You’ve got my seal of approval. Now let’s see if you can impress everyone else.”
Osamu’s smirk softened, but his confidence remained. “Guess I’ll have to. Thanks for stoppin’ by, Saeko-san.”
“Anytime,” she replied, giving him a casual salute before heading toward the door. “And don’t go scarin’ off the rest of your staff, alright? You’re gonna need them.”
As she disappeared through the door, Osamu turned back to his work, the faintest hint of a smile lingering on his face.
The kitchen was still tense, but the mood had shifted ever so slightly. For the first time all day, the staff felt like maybe, just maybe, they’d survive the dinner rush unscathed.
*
The marketing meeting had been dragging on for what felt like hours.
Kuroo leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming lightly on the table as Yaku detailed the latest updates on the festival’s promotional plan. Suna, lounging across from him, scrolled idly on his phone, chiming in now and then with dry, pointed remarks, while Akaashi listened quietly, his focused demeanor unshaken despite Kuroo’s increasingly distracted energy.
As much as Tetsuro loved these sessions, a familiar restlessness tugged at the edges of his mind. He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing out the large glass window behind Yaku that framed the bright, sunlit resort grounds.
That’s when he saw it: a flash of movement near the resort garden. A calico cat darted playfully after a butterfly, its fur catching the golden light. A girl knelt nearby, her long hair falling softly over her shoulders as she smiled at the cat’s antics.
Kuroo blinked, momentarily captivated by the scene, his drumming fingers paused.
The tranquility of that moment stood in stark contrast to the chaos of his day, and something about the calico cat tugged at a distant memory he couldn’t quite place.
The girl gently extended a hand, her movements slow and careful, but the cat hesitated. Its amber eyes flicked toward her, its body tensing slightly as if debating her intentions. After a moment, it stretched lazily, then, with an almost dismissive flick of its tail, turned and padded away to a quieter corner, keeping its distance.
“Kuroo, are you still with us?” Yaku’s voice cut through his thoughts.
“Hm?” Kuroo straightened, his trademark smirk snapping into place. “Yeah, yeah, keep going.”
But his mind lingered on the scene outside. Something about the calico cat seemed familiar, like a memory hovering just out of reach. When the meeting finally wrapped up, Kuroo stood abruptly, earning curious looks from the others.
“Where are you off to?” Suna asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Taking a break,” Kuroo replied, his tone breezy. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back in time to save you from whatever disaster you’re about to post online.”
Before Suna could retort, Kuroo was already heading out the door.
The resort’s reception area hummed with its usual rhythm. Guests checked in and out, bellhops maneuvered luggage carts, and the front desk staff managed everything with practiced efficiency.
Shimizu stood behind the front desk, speaking softly with Yachi, who glanced up as Kuroo passed by, pausing mid-conversation, while Taketora, busy loading a guest’s luggage, looked up as well.
“Kuroo-san?” Yachi murmured, her eyes widening as she took in the sight of the resort’s usually composed Marketing Director walking through the lobby with a calico cat cradled carefully in his arms. “Where’s he off to?”
Even Shimizu raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite herself. “Probably up to no good.” She replied, her tone steady but amused.
Taketora chimed in from nearby, smirking as he loaded a guest’s luggage onto a cart.
“Well, that’s new! Taketora said, a grin spreading across his face. “Didn’t know you liked cats!”
Kuroo looked down at the cat, his expression softening for a moment. “Everyone likes cats. They just don’t always know it yet.”
“Where are you taking him?” Shimizu asked, her curiosity evident.
“To the temple.” Kuroo replied, his tone calm and measured. “This little guy probably wandered too far from the colony.”
As he walked past, his strides purposeful yet unhurried, Shimizu, Yachi, and Taketora exchanged looks.
“Impressive,” Yachi whispered. “He makes carrying a cat look like a scene from a movie!”
Behind them, Nori, who had just returned from her afternoon trip with Saeko and was following the cat that had just escaped her, watched the scene unfold with quiet fascination. The way that man handled the cat, his calm demeanor contrasting with the unexpected tenderness of his actions, caught her off guard.
“Who’s that?” she asked softly, more to herself than anyone else.
“That’s Kuroo-san.” Yachi supplied, overhearing her. “He’s our Marketing Director.”
“He’s good at making a scene” Taketora added, grinning.
Nori nodded absently, her gaze lingering on Kuroo as he exited the building.
She hesitated for only a moment before deciding to follow him at a careful distance, her curiosity outweighing her reservations.
The path to the temple wound gently through lush greenery, the salty breeze carrying the scent of blooming hibiscus and the sound of cicadas filling the warm evening air. The small Shinto shrine was tucked away near the cliffs overlooking the ocean, a peaceful retreat from the bustle of the resort grounds.
Kuroo walked steadily, the calico cat snuggled comfortably in his arms. The temple came into view, its simple wooden structure nestled against a backdrop of dense greenery. Small stone lanterns lined the entrance, and the faint scent of incense lingered in the air.
“Kuroo-san!”
A cheerful voice called out, and Tetsuro looked up to see Kanoka Amanai, the shrine maiden, standing near the temple steps. She wore a traditional white and red outfit, her short hair loose and gently framing her face. Several cats lounged near her feet, basking in the last rays of the sun.
“Kanoka-san,” Kuroo greeted, his usual smirk softening. “I think this little one wandered too far from home.”
Kanoka smiled as he placed the calico cat gently on the ground. It immediately ran to join the others, weaving through their midst before settling under a shaded bench.
“Thank you for bringing him back” Kanoka said warmly.
“Him? A male calico?” Kuroo asked, surprised.
Kanoka nodded. “They’re incredibly rare, one in thousands, if not more. In folklore, they’re considered symbols of great fortune. Anyone who meets one is said to be blessed.”
Tetsuro chuckled softly, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Well, let’s hope so! He does remind me of someone, though.”
Kanoka tilted her head, intrigued. “Who?”
“An old friend.” Kuroo said simply, his gaze distant for a moment. He crouched again, scratching the calico behind its ears as it purred contentedly.
“The cats have been restless lately. I think they can sense the festival energy building up.”
“Speaking of the festival” Tetsuro began, leaning against one of the wooden pillars, “I was wondering if you’d be interested in getting involved. The theme’s Ryukyu folklore, and I can’t think of anyone better to help highlight the island’s traditions.”
Kanoka tilted her head thoughtfully. “That sounds wonderful. What do you have in mind?”
“Cultural performances, local artisans showcasing their work, even a special Ryukyu-themed dining experience of course, but let’s make it more immersive,” Kuroo said with a grin, crouching to scratch behind the ear of a nearby tabby. “Storytelling about the temple’s history, maybe a guided walk around the grounds. And the cats? They’re not just cute, they’re the ambassadors of the shrine. Guests will love it.”
Kanoka laughed softly. “You know, you always seem to have everything planned out. But why does it feel like you’ve got something on your mind?”
Kuroo paused, his hand lingering on the cat’s soft fur. “Just... trying to make sure this festival’s a success. Big crowd, lots of expectations. It’s a lot.”
“You’ve always been a perfectionist.” Kanoka said, her voice gentle. “But remember, it’s not just about how big or impressive it is. It’s about the connections you create.”
Tetsuro nodded, her words settling over him like a balm. “Thanks, Kanoka-san. I’ll keep that in mind.”
As they talked, Nori arrived at the temple entrance, pausing under the torii gate. She watched as Kuroo and Kanoka spoke, their interaction easy and unhurried. The sight of Kuroo crouching to pet the cat, his seemingly sharp demeanor softened, made her hesitate.
She had followed him out of curiosity, but now she wasn’t sure if she should approach.
Before she could decide, Tetsuro turned, his gaze meeting hers.
“You can come closer, you know” he called out, his tone wry but inviting
Startled, Nori stepped forward, her cheeks warming slightly. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“You’re not” Kuroo said, straightening. He brushed off his hands and offered her a polite smile. “Kuroo Tetsuro. Marketing Director at the Mikasa Resort.”
“Shikako Nori,” she replied, her voice quieter than usual. “Nice to meet you.”
“The pleasure is all mine.” Kuroo’s sharp eyes took her in briefly, his expression thoughtful but unreadable. “You’re staying at the resort?”
She nodded. “Yes. I... saw you leaving with the cat and was curious.”
Kuroo smirked slightly, though it lacked its usual edge. “Well, curiosity suits you.” He turned to Kanoka. “Kanoka-san, think you can show Shikako-san around? She seems to like cats.”
“Of course!” Kanoka said warmly.
Kuroo nodded, giving her a brief smile. “Good. Then I’ll leave you to it”
Then he turned back to Nori, his tone light but sincere. “I’d stay, but I’ve got a meeting to get back to. Take care of that calico for me, will you? He’s a special one, you know? He reminds me of someone…” He added in a lower voice.
Before Nori could respond, Kuroo gave her a quick nod and disappeared into the greenery.
She blinked, watching as he strode down the path, his confident stride framed by the dappled light filtering through the trees.
Kanoka smiled at Nori, gesturing toward the cats. “Shall we?”
She nodded, her thoughts lingering on Kuroo’s parting words as she followed Kanoka deeper into the temple grounds.
*
The last rays of sun cast long shadows across the resort grounds, bathing everything in warm, golden light. Bokuto Kotaro wandered aimlessly along the winding paths, his usual energy replaced by a quiet restlessness that even he couldn’t quite understand. His flip-flops crunched softly against the gravel as he walked, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his board shorts.
For most of his life, Bokuto had been a man of action. Whether it was in sports, at work, or even in conversations, he threw himself wholeheartedly into everything, leaving little room for hesitation or doubt.
But this was different. She was different.
He had been so sure of himself when he first met her. Something about the way she listened, her quiet curiosity, and the spark in her eyes when he told his stories,it had all felt natural, easy. But now, the more he thought about her, the more he felt that familiar confidence slipping away, replaced by an uncertainty he couldn’t shake.
“Why does it have to be so complicated?” he muttered under his breath, his brow furrowed.
The truth was, he wasn’t used to feeling this way. He wasn’t used to second-guessing every word he’d said, every moment they’d shared. Did she really enjoy their conversations, or was she just being polite? Was she intrigued by him, or was he reading too much into things? And the fact that she’d spent the entire afternoon at Nishinoya’s house it gnawed at him in ways he didn’t want to admit.
Noya’s a great guy, he thought, his stomach twisting. Funny, smart, full of stories. Of course she’d want to spend time with him. Who wouldn’t?
Bokuto let out a heavy sigh, kicking a small pebble along the path. He hated feeling this way, this knot of self-doubt that seemed to tighten the more he thought about it. It wasn’t like him at all.
But no matter how much he tried to brush it off, the feeling lingered.
She’s just hanging out with Nishinoya-san, right? Nothing weird about that. Noya’s cool. I’m cool. We’re all cool.
But the further he walked, the more his thoughts spiraled.
Maybe she likes him more. Noya’s got all those crazy stories. And he’s confident. And he’s-
Bokuto stopped in his tracks, his earlier enthusiasm vanishing. His shoulders slumped as a frown tugged at his face.
“What if I’m just some lifeguard to her?” he muttered, his voice tinged with self-doubt. “What if she’s just being polite? What if I blew it?”
Lost in his overthinking, Bokuto didn’t notice the figure approaching until a familiar voice called out to him.
“Oi, Bokkun!”
He looked up to see Atsumu Miya sauntering toward him, a surfboard slung casually under one arm. The blond’s grin was as wide and easygoing as ever, but Bokuto barely registered it.
“Hey, Tsumu” Bokuto said quietly, his tone lacking its usual enthusiasm.
Atsumu stopped in his tracks, tilting his head as he studied Bokuto with a curious expression. “Whoa, what’s with the long face? You look like someone stole your whistle. Thought lifeguards were supposed to be all sunshiny and confident.”
Bokuto shrugged, his gaze drifting to the ground. “Just... thinking.”
“Thinkin’?” Atsumu repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Now I am worried.”
Bokuto managed a weak chuckle, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
Atsumu set his surfboard down and crossed his arms, leaning slightly toward Bokuto. “Alright, spill it. What’s goin’ on? You’re not yourself.”
“It’s nothing,” Kotaro muttered, stuffing his hands into his pockets and looking away.
“Oh-ho!” Atsumu crowed, clapping his hands. “I knew it. You’re all tangled up over a girl, aren’t ya? This is too good.”
“It’s not like that!” Bokuto protested, though his tone lacked conviction.
“Bull!” Atsumu replied instantly, leaning on his surfboard. “C’mon, spill it. Is this about... Shikako-san?”
Bokuto’s head snapped toward him, his golden eyes wide. “How do you know about that?”
Atsumu’s smirk returned, wider than before. “I’ve got my sources.”
“Sources?”
“Yukie-san!” Atsumu said with a shrug. “Ran into her this mornin’. She was lookin’ for Shikako-san, said she’s been avoidin’ her all day. Something about last night, you bein’ involved, and her comin’ back to the villa all dreamy and wet.”
Kotaro’s face turned crimson, and he flailed his arms in defense. “It’s not what you think! She thought I was drowning, and she ran into the water to check on me. That’s it!”
“Relax, man, I ain’t accusin’ ya of anything,” Atsumu said, laughing as he stepped closer. “But you’re actin’ weird, which means it’s gotta be somethin’ more. What happened after that, huh?”
Bokuto hesitated, the memory of the night washing over him: the hours spent talking with Nori, the way her eyes lit up when she shared her ideas, the way she’d smiled at him as if she truly saw him.
“We talked,” Bokuto admitted, his voice quieter now. “For hours. About her stories, my ideas, stuff like that.”
“Bet that’s makin’ your head spin, huh?”
Bokuto’s jaw tightened at the reminder, his earlier optimism deflating like a popped balloon. He shifted uncomfortably, his gaze drifting toward the shimmering pool nearby. “It’s not just that.”
“Oh?” Atsumu raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. “What else?”
Bokuto hesitated, the words sticking in his throat. He wasn’t sure if he should say it, wasn’t sure he even wanted to say it. But the weight of it all pressed against his chest, and before he could stop himself, the truth spilled out.
“She spent the whole afternoon with Nishinoya-san.” Kotaro said quietly, his voice tinged with something close to frustration.
Atsumu blinked, his head tilting slightly as he processed this. “Noya? Huh.”
Bokuto’s fists clenched at his sides, his voice gaining volume as his emotions bubbled to the surface. “I mean, what’s so great about Noya, anyway? Sure, he’s got all those cool stories, and yeah, he’s funny, but... I don’t know. I thought she’d-”
He stopped himself, the words catching in his throat.
“Thought she’d what?” Atsumu asked, his voice gentler now, though the teasing edge hadn’t disappeared entirely.
Kotaro looked away, his hands relaxing as his shoulders slumped. “I thought she’d want to spend time with me.”
The confession hung in the air between them, vulnerable and raw. For once, Atsumu didn’t laugh or smirk. Instead, he studied Bokuto’s face, his sharp eyes picking up on the insecurity hiding beneath the usual bravado, and only then let out a low whistle, leaning back slightly.
“Well, that explains the mood. You’ve got it bad.”
Bokuto sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t even know if she likes me like that. And now she’s spent time with Noya-san, and I... I don’t know. I feel like I’m messing everything up.”
Atsumu tilted his head, his grin fading as he studied Bokuto’s slumped shoulders and troubled expression. “Wow,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter now. “You’re really into her, huh?”
Bokuto hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. I guess I am.”
“Well,” Atsumu said after a beat, his voice calm and measured, “Can’t blame ya for feelin’ that way. But, Bokkun, you’re jumpin’ to conclusions.”
“What do you mean?” Bokuto asked, his brows furrowing.
“Just because she’s Noya doesn’t mean she’s not thinkin’ about you.” Atsumu said, leaning against his surfboard. “People can have more than one friend, y’know. And if she didn’t want to spend time with ya, why’d she spend hours talkin’ with ya last night?”
Kotaro hesitated, the memory of their conversation returning to him in vivid detail: the way she’d laughed at his stories, the way her eyes had lit up when she shared her ideas, the way she’d listened so intently, as if he was the only person in the world.
“You think?” he asked, his voice quieter now.
“I don’t think,” Atsumu said, his grin returning. “I know. But you’re too caught up in your head to see it. That’s why you need help.”
“Help?” Bokuto repeated, his frown deepening.
“That’s right,” Atsumu said, standing up straight and slapping Bokuto on the back.
Bokuto frowned, his voice quieter now. “I don’t know what to do, Tsumu. She’s... amazing. And I feel like maybe, maybe, she likes me, too. But what if I’m wrong? What if I mess it all up?”
Atsumu stared at him for a moment, his smirk faltering slightly as he took in, again, Bokuto’s unusually vulnerable state. Then he laughed, slapping Bokuto on the back. “Man, you’ve really got it bad,” he said, shaking his head.
“This is not helping!” Kotaro muttered, slumping slightly.
“Okay, okay,” Atsumu said, holding up his hands. “Let’s get serious for a second. You’re overthinking this, Bokkun. You’re good at a lot of things, but subtlety’s not one of them. If you like her, go for it.”
Bokuto frowned, his self-doubt surfacing again. “But what if I’m wrong? What if she doesn’t feel the same way?”
Atsumu sighed, shaking his head. “Look, I get it. Putting yourself out there’s scary. But sitting here moping about it isn’t gonna change anything. You’ve got to take a chance.”
Kotaro looked at him, his usual spark dimmed but still flickering faintly. “You think so?”
“Trust me!” Atsumu said, holding up his hands. “You can stop get all mopey on me. Lucky for you, I’ve got a solution. We’re gonna call in reinforcements!”
“Reinforcements?” Bokuto asked, frowning in confusion.
Atsumu’s grin returned, mischievous and full of energy. “We’re callin’ an emergency meetin’ of the Mikasa Lonely Hearts Club!”
“What?” Bokuto asked, blinking. “That... thing you guys do? The one where you just whine about being single?”
“Hey! It’s a proud tradition!” Atsumu said, feigning offense. “And it’s not just whinin’. Sometimes we strategize. We’ve got the best minds at this resort when it comes to love… and screwups in love. If anyone can help ya figure this out, it’s them. And right now, you’re gonna need all the help ya can get!”
Bokuto hesitated, his brow furrowing. “I don’t know, Tsumu...”
“Don’t knock it till you try it,” Atsumu said, laughing. “We’re experts at untanglin’ messy feelings like this. And hey, you’re not alone in this, Bokkun. We’ve all been there.”
Bokuto hesitated, glancing at Atsumu’s easy grin. Despite his reluctance, there was something reassuring about the idea of not facing his confusion alone.
“Alright,” he said finally, a small smile tugging at his lips. For the first time that day, the knot in his chest felt just a little looser. “Let’s do it.”
“That’s the spirit!” Atsumu said, ready to rally the club. “By the time we’re done, you’ll have a solid plan to win Shikako-chan’s heart. Guaranteed.”
Before Kotaro could argue further, Atsumu pulled out his phone, already firing off texts to the other members.
“Alright, Bokkun!” he said, grinning as they headed toward the lounge. “Get ready. You’re about to be inducted into the greatest, craziest club on the island!”