As the manager of Inarizaki’s volleyball team, you were no stranger to the end-of-day cleanup—gathering up stray balls, folding away towels, and returning equipment to its place long after the rest of the team had hit the showers or disappeared down the hall.

Usually, you worked alone.

Which is why it caught you off guard when Atsumu offered to help. Or more accurately, tossed a quick “I’ll come with ya” over his shoulder before trailing after you, hands shoved in his pockets.

He didn’t seem particularly interested in working—more like he was tagging along just to avoid going home early. Still, he grabbed a few heavier items with a casual ease, as he followed you into the storage room at the back of the gym.

The space was cramped and stale, the air thick with the scent of old leather and dust. You were focused on organising the last of the cones when the door suddenly slammed shut behind you.

Click.

You straightened immediately, turning back. The door wouldn’t budge. You jiggled the handle, tried pushing it with your shoulder, but it still didn’t budge at all.

Atsumu didn’t move to help. Instead, he leaned casually against a shelf, arms loosely crossed, one foot propped up against the wall behind him. A crooked half-smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he watched you struggle.