The Miya twins had been arguing for the last ten minutes about who was worse at math, which only made Suna groan louder as he sprawled across the gym floor with his workbook open in front of him.
“I’m tellin’ ya, Osamu’s the one who failed the last quiz,” Atsumu snapped, flipping his pencil in the air and catching it with unnecessary flair. “I got a thirty-two. That’s way better than your twenty-nine!”
“And I told ya,” Osamu shot back, arms crossed, “that I only failed ‘cause I fell asleep durin’ class. You were wide awake and still tanked it.”
Suna didn’t even look up from where his cheek rested on his arm. “You both suck. Can we just ask her already?”
Kita stood near the doorway, arms crossed, eyes quietly watching his teammates with a small frown forming on his face. “This is why I tell you three to manage your time better.”
Atsumu turned dramatically toward him. “Kita-san! Please! Just this once—ask your girlfriend to help us!”
Osamu nodded quickly, trying to seem less desperate than his twin. “She’s smart. She helped you pass that Physics final, right?”
“I studied,” Kita replied evenly, but the faint twitch of his brow said he knew where this was going. He sighed. “And she helped, yes.”
Suna finally sat up and closed his workbook with a snap. “Then it’s settled. Let’s not waste any more time pretending we know how to solve linear equations.”
“C’mon, Kita-san,” Atsumu pleaded, clapping his hands together. “She won’t say no if you ask.”
“She’s your girlfriend. You’ve got home court advantage,” Osamu added, nudging his captain with a hopeful grin.
Kita gave them a long, flat look. “You just want to copy her notes.”
“No!” Atsumu said way too quickly. “Well. Yes. But also—she explains stuff real nice.”
Osamu nodded. “She doesn’t yell, unlike some people,” he muttered, eyes darting to Atsumu.
Atsumu gasped. “You started the yellin’, don’t even!”
Kita held up a hand, silencing both of them.
“I’ll ask her,” he said with a heavy sigh, voice calm as ever. “But if I find out any of you are wasting her time, you’ll be doing laps until your legs give out. Understood?”
“Yes, Kita-san,” all three chorused like scolded children.
Kita pulled out his phone and stepped aside, texting with calm precision. A few minutes passed as they anxiously watched his expression.
“She said yes,” he announced, slipping his phone back into his pocket.
Atsumu pumped his fist into the air. “Yesss! Thank you, Kita-san!”
Suna smirked. “We live to fail another day, boys.”
Osamu looked around. “Wait, are we meetin’ at the library or what?”
“Here,” Kita said, already pulling out his own math book. “She’s on her way.”
Atsumu slumped to the ground dramatically. “We’re saved.”
“Temporarily,” Kita replied with a sharp edge in his tone.
They straightened up when the gym door creaked open, your silhouette appearing in the doorway with a bag slung over your shoulder and a curious smile on your face.
Kita stepped forward to greet you, voice softer now, “Thanks for coming.”
Behind him, the three troublemakers whispered among themselves, scrambling to find their notebooks, suddenly looking more like diligent students than they had in weeks.
Suna muttered, “She’s gonna figure out how hopeless we are in under five minutes.”
Atsumu snickered, “Maybe three.”
“Bet she already knows,” Osamu deadpanned, “but came anyway. Brave soul.”
As you walked over and sat beside Kita, he leaned in slightly and murmured something only you could hear. The others fell quiet—not out of respect, but because they didn’t want to miss a single word of whatever brainpower-saving magic you were about to offer.
Kita folded his arms and looked at his teammates. “Alright, open your books. Let’s start from question one.”
Groans echoed in unison.
And so began what would be known, in their memories, as the day they got schooled by Kita-san’s girlfriend.