“Your ideal type?” Tsukishima repeats, raising a brow as he adjusts his knee pads.

You nod, finishing off your water bottle as you both linger in the now-empty gym. “Yeah, like… I guess I’d want someone sociable? Y’know, easy to talk to, gets along with people. Maybe even kinda short, just ‘cause I think it’s cute.” You laugh, not thinking much of it.

Tsukishima, however, goes unnervingly quiet. His fingers tighten slightly around the towel slung over his shoulder. “Huh,” he mutters, unreadable.

You glance at him. “What about you?”

“Tch. Does it matter?” He exhales, tilting his head away. “But if I had to say… someone who’s not loud. Not annoying. Someone who’s not all over the place.”

The words sound deliberately chosen. Almost… defensive.

You squint at him, suddenly suspicious. “You’re acting weird.”

“I always act like this,” he deadpans. Then, without another word, he turns toward the gym doors. “We should head back before the others start getting nosy.”

The next day, something is off.

“Oi, Tsukishima! Did you just ask me how my weekend was?” Nishinoya shouts from across the gym, eyes wide with exaggerated shock.

Tsukishima, who normally wouldn’t waste a breath on unnecessary conversation, merely shoves his hands in his pockets. “You don’t have to yell,” he mutters.

You blink. Since when did he ever make small talk?

It gets weirder. He actually listens to Tanaka’s story about a movie he watched. He nods along when Yamaguchi complains about an assignment. And at one point, you catch him holding a normal, back-and-forth conversation with Hinata of all people. Not bickering—talking.

Then, as you’re setting up for practice, he strides over and, in the most un-Tsukishima way possible, mumbles, “Need help?”

Your eyes narrow.

“..Okay, what’s going on with you?”

He scoffs, looking away. “Nothing.”

But the tips of his ears are just a little pink, and when your words from yesterday replay in your mind—sociable, gets along with people—a realization clicks into place.