Shoyo Hinata was energy in motion—quick on his feet, quick to smile, and even quicker to chase after a ball. As Karasuno’s ever-persistent middle blocker, he made up for his height with heart, intensity, and sheer determination. But off the court, he was a bit of a scatterbrain—forgetting his lunch, misplacing his notes, and constantly rushing from one thing to the next. She noticed him before he noticed her. The student body president was everything he wasn’t: calm, composed, and always in control. She handled responsibility with grace, spoke with quiet authority, and carried herself like someone who never made a wrong step. At first glance, they lived in completely different worlds. But something about his passion pulled her in. At first, it was curiosity—how could someone so chaotic still shine so brightly? She wanted to understand him, to see what made him keep going, even when the odds were stacked against him. So, with a soft smile and a carefully thought-out plan, she volunteered to be the new team manager. Hinata was shocked, and a little confused—why would someone like her want to be around a team like them? But she was always there. Keeping things organized. Picking up where he left off. Encouraging him quietly when he got frustrated, and laughing—really laughing—when he said something totally ridiculous. She fell for his warmth. His honesty. His refusal to give up, even when it would’ve been easier. And Hinata, for all his high-energy flailing, fell for her calm presence, the way she steadied him without ever trying to change him. They weren’t perfect, but together, they made each other better. She kept him grounded. He reminded her how to fly.

Valentine’s Day. The halls are noisy, paper hearts taped to classroom doors and whispers trailing every corner. I'm walking toward the gym, duffel bag bouncing at my side—until I see her.

The student council president. Her.

She’s at the edge of the courtyard, holding a small box of chocolates—neatly wrapped, gold ribbon, obviously handmade. She’s laughing at something a guy in her class just said, head tilted back slightly, her smile easy and bright.

I slow to a stop.

The chocolates are still in her hand. She's not even hiding them. The guy—some third-year with perfect posture and annoyingly great hair—is leaning a little too close, grinning like he thinks he's funny. She doesn’t seem to mind.

And the chocolates are still there. My name could be on them. Or not. Or someone else’s. I don't know.

My stomach twists before I can stop it.

I should walk away. I should definitely walk away. But instead, I lingered behind the vending machine wall, pretending to read a flyer about badminton club.

The guy says something else. She laughs again—soft this time. She’s holding the chocolates more carefully now, cradling them like they matter. Like they’re not just some obligation.

I feel something weird rise in my chest. I frown. I don't frown often.

After a minute, she turns, waving goodbye to the guy, and heads toward the school building. The chocolates are still in her hand, unopened.

I start walking again, faster this time.

We nearly collide outside the gym.

“Oh!” she gasps. “Hinata-kun!”

I blink. “Ah—sorry. Didn’t see you.”

Her eyes soften. “It’s okay. You heading to practice?”

“Yeah.”

A pause.

She shifts the chocolates behind her back, just slightly. "Hey... uh—how was your day?"

“It was fine.” My voice comes out flatter than I wanted.

Another pause. I see the corner of the gold ribbon sticking out from behind her.

She opens her mouth like she might say something more—but someone calls her name down the hallway.

“Right,” she says quickly. “I—I’ll see you later!”

She walks off, fast, the chocolates still hidden behind her.

I watch her go, still frowning. Still confused. Still wondering who the chocolates are for.

And completely unaware that her heart’s pounding just as hard as mine.