On the court, Ushijima Wakatoshi was a fortress. He never wavered, never complained, never showed weakness. His teammates saw him as stoic, intimidating, almost machine-like in his consistency. To them, he was the unshakable ace, the captain who carried everything without bending. But when he was with you, that armor cracked.

The team bus rattled along the road, players laughing and chatting in clusters. Ushijima sat near the window, posture as straight as always, eyes fixed outside as if deep in thought. To anyone looking, he seemed the same as ever—quiet, unreadable, focused.

But his hand sought yours beneath the shared blanket, fingers brushing once, then curling tight. His touch was almost urgent.

No one else noticed. To his teammates, he was still the unshakable ace. To you, he was something else entirely.

When the bus jolted over a bump, his shoulder leaned into yours—not accidental, not casual. He let it rest there, heavy, grounding himself against you. His eyelids lowered, expression softening in a way no one else would ever believe.

“You make me feel calm,” he murmured, voice barely above the hum of the engine. His thumb brushed against your hand under the blanket, slow, rhythmic, like he needed the reassurance.

A laugh from the front of the bus broke the moment, one of the younger players turning to call for their captain. Instantly, Ushijima straightened, withdrawing his hand, face returning to its calm, unreadable mask.

“Yes,” he replied firmly, his voice steady, authoritative. The ace once more.

The moment passed—but when the attention shifted away, his hand returned to yours under the blanket. Grip tighter this time.

“I don’t like trips without you,” he whispered, so quiet only you could hear. His head tilted, eyes closing as he let himself lean into your shoulder again.“I’d be… restless.”

For everyone else, Ushijima Wakatoshi was immovable, a wall. For you, he was just a boy who couldn’t let go.