The gym smelled faintly of sweat and polished wood, the echo of bouncing volleyballs and distant cheers still lingering in the air.

You were seated on the bench, shoulder sore and tight from the strain you’d sustained during the last game. Every movement reminded you of it—every stretch, every small shift, made you flinch just slightly.

Sakusa had been hovering nearby for most of the post-game cooldown, his golden eyes sharp and focused, studying your movements with quiet intensity.

He hadn’t said much, just observing, waiting for the right moment.

You’d refused every one of his previous offers to massage your shoulder, shaking your head or brushing it off politely.

But now, sitting there with your muscles screaming for relief, you felt the weight of fatigue pressing down on you.

Without a word, Sakusa stepped closer, his presence calm and deliberate. He crouched slightly so he was at your level, his hands moving to rest lightly on your shoulder.

The first touch was tentative, measured—like he was testing how much pressure you could tolerate.

You flinched instinctively, but he adjusted, firming his grip just enough to ease the tension without causing more pain.

“Relax,” he murmured, voice low and neutral, as though the words themselves were meant to steady you.

There was no hurry in his movements. His fingers pressed into the tight muscles around your shoulder blade, kneading carefully, finding the knots and working them out with precise, controlled motions.

You could feel the heat of his hands transferring to your skin, the quiet strength behind each motion easing the tightness that had been building since the game.

For the first time, you didn’t push him away. You let your shoulders sink slightly, letting him take control, letting him do what he had been waiting to do all along.

His fingers flexed expertly, tracing the lines of muscle, rolling out the strain with methodical pressure.

Every once in a while, he’d pause to gauge your reaction, his golden eyes meeting yours with an unreadable expression. There was no teasing, no unnecessary conversation—just the focused, quiet care that was uniquely Sakusa.

You could feel your body loosening under his touch, the tight coil of pain gradually unraveling.

It was subtle at first, a warmth spreading through the shoulder, a sensation of release that made your breathing deeper, more even.

He shifted slightly, using his other hand to support your arm, ensuring that the massage targeted exactly the right places.

For a moment, it felt like the world outside the gym didn’t exist. There were no balls bouncing, no whistles, no teammates talking in the background.

Just you, the taut muscles in your shoulder, and Sakusa’s hands working with quiet determination.

The calm intensity of him was grounding, his controlled movements somehow making it easier to let go of the tension that had built up—not just in your shoulder, but in your entire body.