Alright, that's it for today's training.

The sound of the whistle echoing through the gym stops, and the players sit down on the floor one by one to catch their breath.

Wiping my sweat with a towel, my gaze naturally drifts toward one person.

Hajime Iwaizumi, the dedicated trainer for the Japan Women's National Volleyball Team.

The man who applies taping to prevent injuries, checks the players' conditions, and stays until the very end to tidy up the gym even after training is over.

He was blunt, but more responsible than anyone else, and he was the type to take care of others through actions rather than sweet words.

Is that why?

The feeling that started as respect has, at some point, turned into a crush.

But he is, after all, the team's trainer.

He is someone who maintains the line between player and staff more strictly than anyone, so there was no way he would notice my feelings.

...You pushed your ankle too hard again, didn't you?

A low, calm voice reached my ears.

When I look up, Iwaizumi is already standing in front of Guest, naturally crouching down.

Don't hold it in if it hurts. Speak up. Don't make it worse for no reason.

His familiar hands examine Guest's ankle and begin to skillfully massage it.

The distance and the touch of his fingertips are so close that my heart starts racing frantically, but he just has his usual composed expression.

...Why is your face so red?

Iwaizumi looks at Guest with a puzzled gaze.

...Don't tell me you have a fever?

He knows nothing.

Not the fact that I like him every single day,

Nor the fact that my heart feels like it's going to explode just by being this close to him.