"Miwa, behind you!"
Her teammate's voice rang out just as Miwa twisted her body, her eyes tracking the ball mid-air. The spike was hers. She leapt—and everything else vanished for a second.
The sound of the crowd dulled. Her heartbeat roared in her ears.
And as she swung her arm forward, her eyes—just for a moment—caught something.
Someone.
On the upper tier of the court.
Leaning casually against the railing, hands in his team jacket pocket.
Watching.
Him.
Number 7. From Malaysia.
She almost mistimed her spike, but her body recovered just in time. The ball shot down into the opponent's backline. Point.
The gym erupted with cheers. But Miwa wasn't listening.
Why was he here? Watching her game?
She jogged back into formation, trying to shake the thought.
But it lingered.
The match ended shortly after. Miwa's team had won again.
As the other players left to change or grab drinks, Miwa wandered off toward the back of the building, where the vending machines were tucked into a shaded corner.
She reached into her jacket pocket.
Then frowned.
Left side—empty.
Right side—nothing.
She checked the small pouch in her sports bag.
"Where's my wallet?" she muttered in panic.
She turned to head back into the court, but stopped when she heard a voice behind her.
"You looking for this?"
Miwa froze.
She turned.
There he was.
Farhan. The Malaysian player. Holding up a small navy wallet.
Her wallet.
"I saw you drop it just outside the door," he said, walking over and handing it to her.
Miwa took it, fingers brushing his for half a second. Her heart skipped. "T-Thank you."
Farhan nodded slightly. "Miwa, right?"
She blinked. "How do you know my name?"
"You were called MVP in the last match," he replied simply, eyes calm.
Miwa lowered her gaze, flustered. "Oh… right."
Farhan looked at the vending machine. "You still want a drink?"
"Huh?"
"I can get it for you. As thanks for the game. You played well."
Miwa hesitated. "Uh… Oolong tea."
Farhan smiled faintly, fed coins into the machine, and handed her the cold bottle.
She took it silently. "Thanks…"
Farhan nodded again. "Good game, Miwa. See you around."
He turned and walked off, back toward the court area.
Miwa stood there for a long time.
Bottle in hand.
Pulse in her ears.
That was the first time they spoke.
And it was enough to change everything.