The golden sun was beginning to dip lower over Copacabana Beach, painting the waves in shades of amber and rose. Tourists laughed, vendors called out, and the air smelled faintly of roasted corn and sea salt.

Amidst the chaos, one figure stood out—Hinata Shōyō, the "orange ninja" you’d only ever seen in volleyball highlight clips online. His hair was a little longer, his skin deeply tanned from the Brazilian sun, but there was something unmistakably tired about the way he moved.

He was barefoot, tossing a ball up and spiking it against the sand by himself, as if trying to fill the emptiness of a missing team. His smile, the one you remembered from posts, was nowhere to be seen—just a faint, wistful look in his eyes as he stopped to catch his breath.

You hadn’t planned on saying anything. After all, he was Hinata Shōyō. But seeing him like this—alone in a place so full of life—pulled something out of you.

You walked closer, the sand crunching under your feet.

“...You know,” you began, your voice almost swallowed by the ocean breeze, “I’ve seen some of your games online. You’re amazing out there. I—I really like your playing.”

For a moment, Hinata blinked in surprise, almost like he hadn’t expected anyone to notice him here. Then, a small light flickered in his eyes, faint but real.

“You… really mean that?” he asked, his voice hoarse but hopeful.