Balancing Act

Prologue

The sound of cardboard tearing filled the room as Maiko Smit sat cross-legged on the floor, her hands busy unpacking her life, box by box. A kaleidoscope of emotions whirled through her as she pulled out trinkets from her childhood in The Netherlands–her small crystal collection, old Dutch postcards, a stash of stroopwafels that probably weren't going to last the week. But it was when she uncovered a delicate paper fan, its intricate designs of cherry blossoms and mountains still as pristine as the day her Japanese grandmother gave it to her, that she paused.

Her fingers traced the edges of the fan, a symbol of her mixed heritage. Maiko had always felt split between two worlds–half Japanese, half Dutch–and neither quite fully one nor the other. Her mother's Japan felt distant, like a story she'd only heard in passing, despite the many annual holidays she'd go to Japan to visit her mother's family. While her father's Netherlands had been home for as long as she could remember. But now, here she was in Tokyo, smack in the middle of the place she'd often dreamed about, on the brink of finally exploring the side of herself that had always felt like a half-told tale.

A chance to be someone new. Or someone truer to herself.

Her eyes flickered to the window, where the faint silhouette of Tokyo's skyline stretched in the distance. Her father had been offered an international contract here, and her mother, thrilled to return to her homeland, hadn't hesitated. And Maiko? She had accepted the move to Japan with an enthusiasm she hadn't expected. This was her opportunity to rediscover her roots, dive into the language she spoke with an accent that made her mother smile, and explore the culture that felt both familiar and foreign at once.

And then there was Nekoma High School.

She chuckled to herself, remembering her parents' surprise when she'd chosen to enroll there. A school known for its volleyball team of all things, a sport Maiko didn't follow but heard about in passing, and enjoyed playing it whenever her former P.E teacher would teach the sport during his classes. That wasn't the reason she'd picked it, though. Something about the name Nekoma had resonated with her, almost like a gut feeling she couldn't shake. Maybe it was the idea of starting fresh, surrounded by new faces and an unfamiliar atmosphere. Or maybe it was just time to throw herself into the unexpected.

With a sigh, she set the fan down on her dresser and stood up, stretching her long limbs. At 171 cm, Maiko was taller than most girls, a fact she inherited from her Dutch father. Her broad shoulders weren't something she cared much about; her hips balanced them out, and her hourglass figure, while unconventional, suited her. Besides, labels weren't really her thing. If she felt like presenting herself as more masculine one day, she'd do it. If she felt more feminine, fine. People could think what they wanted. It's not like she cared much for their opinions. She'd always been comfortable in her own skin–bigender, panromantic, whatever the world wanted to call it, she'd just call it Maiko.

She pulled her hair into a quick ponytail, glancing in the mirror at her growing wolf cut–dark blond with streaks of brown that fell in messy layers around her face. Her gray-green eyes, sharp and curious, stared back. No turning back now. Tokyo was her new home, and in less than 24 hours, she'd be stepping foot in Nekoma High as the new girl.

Her stomach churned with a mix of nerves and excitement. A brand-new chapter.

The next morning, the smell of rain lingered in the air as Maiko stepped through the gates of Nekoma High School. Students hustled past her, some already wrapped up in conversations, others rushing to avoid the first bell. Maiko scanned the unfamiliar faces, feeling that familiar jolt of being both an outsider and someone on the cusp of something interesting.

The campus was bigger than she'd expected, and the building had a sense of history, like it had seen generations of students come and go, each leaving their mark in some small, imperceptible way. As Maiko navigated her way to her classroom, she spotted the school gymnasium out of the corner of ehr eye. The door was slightly ajar, and she couldn't help but take a detour, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Inside, she caught sight of a group of boys practicing volleyball. Tall, focused, and dripping with that palpable energy of athletes mid-practice. But one figure stood out.

A guy with spiky black hair–no, disheveled was a better word for it–was giving instructions to his teammates, his voice authoritative yet relaxed. He had a certain air about him, something easy going but sharp, like he knew exactly what he was doing and enjoyed every second of it. His jersey bore the number 1, and even from a distance, Maiko could see the confidence in his movements, the way he carried himself.

She couldn't help but feel a flicker of intrigue.

Who's that?

Before she could give it much thought, the bell rang, pulling her back to reality. She glanced at her phone, realizing she was almost late for her first class.

With a soft curse, she turned and headed down the hallway, but not without a final glance back at the guy with the wild hair and easy smile. A small grin tugged at her lips.

Maybe this new chapter wasn't going to be so boring after all.

As she sat down in her classroom, she heard the name from the roll call: "Kuroo Tetsuro."

She blinked, looking up just in time to see the volleyball player from earlier raise his hand, a sly smirk on his face as he settled into his seat. Their eyes met for the briefest of moments, and in that instant, Maiko couldn't help but wonder what twists and turns this new chapter in her life would take.

And what role this "Kuroo Tetsuro" might play in it.