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Lev’s Discovery
Lev had only been on the Nekoma team for a few weeks, but already he was sure of one thing: the captain and the setter were… suspicious.
Not suspicious like villains in a manga, though Kuroo did have the hair for it. But suspicious nevertheless like they were hiding something.
Lev noticed it on the train first.
Did he just… see what he thought he saw?
The entire team was piled into seats and straps after practice, half-asleep and slumping into strangers, but Kenma was curled neatly against Kuroo’s shoulder like a cat who’d found its sunbeam. Kuroo didn’t even react much. He adjusted his bag so it wouldn’t bump Kenma’s head, and kept scrolling his phone with his free hand as if this were an everyday occurrence.
Lev’s heart was racing, his hands were tingling, and a voice in his head screamed: THIS IS NOT FRIENDSHIP. I AM POSITIVE.
And normal teammates didn’t just… lean like that. Right?
He tried to shake it off, but then there was the hoodie incident. In the middle of warmups, Kuroo reached out, tugged Kenma’s hood so it sat properly, and even brushed back a lock of his hair that had gotten caught. Kenma blinked once, muttered something Lev couldn’t hear, and went right back to his Switch.
Lev froze in the middle of his stretches. THAT WASN’T CAPTAINLY. THAT WAS… BOYFRIEND-Y.
And then—then came the overheard comment in the locker room.
Kuroo, toweling his hair dry, had said something like, “You coming to mine after? We’ll shower and get food.”
And Kenma, without looking up, just hummed a lazy, “Yeah.”
Lev had nearly swallowed his tongue.
They bathe together? After practice?
The math wasn’t complicated. Shoulder leaning + hoodie fixing + casual bath talk = dating. Obviously!
He tried to tell himself he was overthinking it, but every practice made it harder to ignore. The small touches, the blatant way they seemed tuned only to each other. The fact that Kenma allowed Kuroo in his personal bubble at all. Lev knew enough about Kenma already to realize that wasn’t normal. That Kuroo was special.
By the end of the week, Lev sat on the bench with his water bottle, staring between them like he was watching a romance drama unfold. Kenma had drifted half-asleep against Kuroo again, and Kuroo, who was unbothered, continued going over formation and strategies during down time.
Lev nearly shouted right then and there!
But no. He had to be smart about this.
He would gather more proof.
Then he would announce it, and everyone would see how sharp-eyed he was.
Lev grinned to himself, determination blazing. Nekoma thought he was just the goofy new guy, but soon—soon they would all realize Lev Haiba was a genius detective!
The Rumor Spreads
Lev couldn’t keep it in any longer.
He had gathered the evidence—oh yes, piles of it. Kenma leaning. Kuroo touching. The bathing thing. The way their eyes met sometimes, like they were secretly communicating. It was all so obvious that Lev felt like he was living in a parallel universe where he was the only sane man left because his team was so unaffected by it.
So when the team circled up during a lull in practice, Lev seized his chance.
“Guys,” he blurted, louder than necessary. “I figured it out.”
Everyone turned. Inuoka tilted his head curiously. Yaku squinted, already suspicious. Fukunaga’s smirk flickered like he smelled chaos coming.
Lev puffed up proudly. “Kuroo and Kenma are dating.”
Silence.
Then, instead of the shock and gasps Lev expected, the team let out a collective groan, like he’d just announced water was wet.
“Idiot,” Yaku snapped, smacking him on the arm. “That’s just how they are.”
Lev blinked. “Wha—just how they—what does that even mean? They cuddle! They share baths! Kenma practically lives in Kuroo’s pocket!”
“That’s childhood friends for you,” Kai said calmly, stretching his shoulders. He didn’t even look fazed, like Lev had just pointed out the sky was blue.
Lev gawked at him. Childhood friends? CHILDHOOD FRIENDS DIDN’T BATHE TOGETHER AFTER PRACTICE AT SEVENTEEN YEARS OLD!
Inuoka frowned thoughtfully. “Wait… they still bathe together?”
“Yes!” Lev seized the opening, eyes shining. Finally, someone who saw the truth. “See? Totally suspicious.”
But before he could revel in victory, Yaku threw Inuoka a warning glare. “Don’t start. It’s nothing weird.”
“Nothing weird?” Lev’s voice cracked. “Nothing weird about the captain adjusting Kenma’s hoodie like a doting boyfriend?”
Fukunaga, who had been suspiciously quiet until now, made a long, low ooooooh sound, wiggling his eyebrows. The rest of the team laughed, except for Kenma, who sat cross-legged in the corner with his Switch, completely ignoring all of them.
Lev felt heat rush to his face. He wasn’t imagining this! He wasn’t!
But instead of anyone taking him seriously, the “rumor” turned into a joke.
Every time Kuroo slung an arm over Kenma’s shoulder, Inuoka whispered, “Ah, young love.”
Every time Kenma handed Kuroo a water bottle without looking, Fukunaga made kissy noises.
Even Yaku, though he tried to keep order, sometimes pressed his lips tight like he wasn’t sure if he could defend them forever.
Lev, of course, doubled down. He watched like a hawk during drills, certain he’d catch them in the act—some secret glance, some slip-up that would prove him right.
And yet, the more he stared, the more confusing it got.
Because sometimes… sometimes it wasn’t even dramatic. It was unnoticeable.
Like the way Kuroo automatically matched his pace to Kenma’s when they jogged off court. Or how Kenma, without looking up from his game, shifted his water bottle closer to Kuroo’s hand like he knew he’d need it.
Lev threw his hands in the air one night after practice.
“I swear, if this is just friendship, then I’ve been living a lie!”
The whole team groaned again.
But somewhere in the middle of their laughter, Lev caught Inuoka giving him a sidelong glance, less certain than before.
Lev grinned. Seeds of doubt had been planted. He was no longer alone in this crusade.
Lev Tries To Prove it
Lev still couldn’t keep it in any longer.
Lev decided he needed hard evidence. Not rumors. Not jokes. Not “Kenma’s ears looked pink for two seconds.” He needed proof so undeniable that even Yaku would throw his hands up and admit defeat.
And if no one else was going to get it, then it was up to Lev Haiba! Ace detective! To stage the tests himself.
Test One: The Bus Experiment.
Normally, Kenma and Kuroo sat together on bus rides, Kenma tucked against the window while Kuroo sprawled beside him. Too easy. Too suspicious. Lev couldn’t allow it.
So when they boarded the bus after a practice match, Lev swooped in like a hawk and dropped into the seat beside Kenma before Kuroo could blink.
“Hey, partner!” he said loudly.
Kenma didn’t even glance at him. He just pulled out his Switch and started playing.
Success, Lev thought smugly. Kuroo would have to sit elsewhere.
But five minutes into the ride, Lev noticed Kuroo standing in the aisle, casually holding onto the strap. The bus was half-empty with plenty of open seats available but he didn’t take any. He just stood there, one hand braced on the back of Lev’s seat, close enough that his sleeve brushed Kenma’s shoulder.
Lev twisted around when said sleeve also accidentally brushed against him.
“Uh, Kuroo-senpai, you can sit, you know.”
“Nah,” Kuroo said lazily, eyes flicking toward Kenma. “I’m good here.”
Kenma shifted minutely, leaning the tiniest bit against Kuroo’s arm like it was a wall. His eyes stayed on his game, but his body had already decided where it was comfortable.
Lev gawked. He had meant to break them apart and somehow, they looked closer.
Test Two: The Drill Sabotage.
During blocking drills, Lev saw his chance. Kuroo and Kenma were side by side, as usual, and Lev would test them!
He darted in between them, grinning. “Mind if I squeeze in?”
“Lev, you’re supposed to rotate in, not—” Kai started, but Lev ignored him.
“Don’t mind!”
The drill resumed, and Lev jumped with all his might, trying to impress while also proving that he, too, could be Kuroo’s right-hand man. He landed awkwardly, nearly colliding with Kenma.
Before Lev could topple, a steady hand caught his elbow. Kuroo’s hand. Quick, strong, and immediately releasing once Lev was stable.
Lev blinked in shock. Then noticed Kuroo’s other hand had automatically brushed against Kenma’s back to steady him too. Was that like muscle memory?!
The drill ended, and Kenma simply stepped back into place beside Kuroo, unfazed. Kuroo didn’t even look at Lev.
Lev’s stomach flipped.
Test Three: The Food Trap.
If there was one thing Lev knew, it was that post-practice hunger made people honest. So when they all hit a ramen shop, Lev pounced. He plopped himself across from Kuroo and Kenma, watching like a hawk.
He waited.
And then it happened. Kuroo set his chopsticks down to stretch, and without even glancing up from his phone, Kenma slid his water glass closer to him without any communication.
Kuroo hummed, drank, and slid it back. No words exchanged. No thanks given.
Lev nearly dropped his own bowl. WHO DID THAT UNLESS THEY’D BEEN ORBITING EACH OTHER FOR YEARS?!?!?!
He stuffed his face with noodles, brain buzzing. His tests weren’t proving what he wanted at all. If anything, they were showing something worse. Something…scarier.
Because every time he tried to wedge himself between them, every time he tried to shake their routine, they just fell back into sync. Like magnets snapping into place.
Lev twirled his chopsticks, heart racing. Maybe… maybe this wasn’t just some funny rumor anymore.
The Final Test
Lev had tried everything from bus blocking, to drill sabotage, and ramen surveillance, but all of it had backfired. Every attempt to separate them only made Kuroo and Kenma look even closer.
So Lev decided to change tactics. If he couldn’t wedge them apart, he’d try something riskier. Something bold. Something guaranteed to reveal the truth.
He would make Kuroo jealous!
It was simple in theory.
If Kuroo and Kenma were just friends, then Kuroo wouldn’t care if Kenma spent time with someone else.
But if Lev leaned on Kenma the way Kuroo did with all the casual touches, thoughtful gestures, then Kuroo’s reaction would expose everything!
Lev grinned to himself, already hearing the gasps from all his teammates when he cracks the case wide open.
The opportunity came during spiking drills. Kenma, as usual, stood at the ready to toss him sets.
Lev jogged over, beaming. “Hey, Kenma, wanna warm me up with a few spikes?”
Kenma barely looked up. “Sure.”
Lev fought a triumphant laugh.
Step one: complete.
Kenma’s tosses were perfect, soft arcs that let Lev had a very hard time slamming down.
But Lev made sure to shout praise every time.
“Nice one, Kenma! You’re amazing!” He even clapped him on the back once, imitating Kuroo’s casual shoulder pats.
Kenma gave him a flat look but didn’t shrug him off.
Lev’s heart pounded.
Okay. Step two.
He grabbed his water bottle, took a quick gulp, then deliberately held it out. “Here. You must be thirsty after all those tosses!”
Kenma blinked at the bottle. “I have my own.”
Lev insisted, pushing it closer. “No, no, take it! I insist!”
Kenma sighed, took a sip, and handed it back without comment.
Lev’s eyes flicked immediately to Kuroo.
The captain was watching from across the court, towel draped around his neck, expression unreadable. He didn’t interrupt—just raised an eyebrow, like he was waiting to see how long Lev’s performance would last.
Lev’s palms grew sweaty. He needed to up the stakes.
He leaned closer to Kenma, smiling a little too brightly. “You’re really good at reading me, you know? It’s almost like we’re in sync!”
Kenma gave him the faintest side-eye that came out looking more like a glare. “…What are you talking about?”
Lev nearly wilted.
But then—there it was. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught it. Kuroo walking over, slow and easy, smirk tugging at his lips.
Lev braced himself for anger, for jealousy, for Kuroo to grab Kenma by the wrist and drag him away. This was it. The big reveal.
But instead, Kuroo just stepped behind Kenma, plucked the empty water bottle from Lev’s hand, and drawled, “Nice try, rookie.”
Kenma glanced up briefly, then away, like nothing had happened. Lev froze, gaping.
That was it? That was all? No fury? No dramatic declaration of ownership?!
Kuroo reached down, ruffled Kenma’s hair with a gentleness that made Lev’s stomach flip, then walked off to join the others. Kenma didn’t even flinch.
Lev collapsed onto the bench, utterly defeated.
Because in that moment, he realized something terrible: Kuroo didn’t need to get jealous. He didn’t need to guard Kenma or mark his territory. They were already so solid, so natural, that no amount of testing would shake them.
Lev buried his face in his hands. “I’ve been outplayed…”
Later, when the team gathered their bags, Lev muttered, “One day, I’ll be the first to know when it’s official.”
Fukunaga made kissy noises.
Yaku rolled his eyes.
Inuoka asked, “So… they’re still not dating?”
Lev thought back to his own bold announcement over a week earlier, the one everyone had brushed off.
Maybe they were right. Maybe it was just how Kuroo and Kenma were.
Lev lifted his head, eyes shining with a mixture of despair and awe. “Not yet.”
Behind them, Kenma leaned on Kuroo’s shoulder as they walked out together. Kuroo glanced down at him, smile softer than Lev had ever seen.
Lev swallowed.
“…But maybe someday.”
The team laughed again, and the day moved forward like nothing had changed.