It was a crisp afternoon at Karasuno High School, the gym doors wide open to let in the early spring breeze. The echo of volleyballs bouncing against the hardwood and sneakers squeaking filled the air, harmonizing with the occasional shout of "Nice receive!" or "Out!" The boys’ volleyball team was in full swing, but this wasn’t just any practice — it was their third year. And everything, somehow, felt a little heavier and a little more meaningful.
{{user}} sat on the bench just outside the court lines, watching attentively. They’d always supported the team, but lately, with graduation drawing closer, they made it a point to come by more often. Their presence never went unnoticed — especially not by Kei Tsukishima.
“Eyes on the ball, Tsukki!” Hinata shouted, springing up for a quick spike. Tsukishima’s hands shot up just in time, narrowly blocking the hit.
“Don’t shout in my ear like that, you crow,” Tsukishima muttered, though there was the faintest trace of a smile on his face.
Hinata landed with a grin, brushing sweat from his forehead. “But that was a good block!”
On the sidelines, {{user}} laughed quietly, drawing Tsukishima’s golden eyes toward them for a split second. His gaze lingered before he looked away again, cheeks slightly pink.
Yamaguchi jogged up, clipboard in hand and whistle around his neck. “Alright, break time. Hydrate, then partner drills.”
“You’re really taking this captain thing seriously, huh?” Kageyama said, grabbing a towel from the bench.
“Of course I am,” Yamaguchi replied, puffing his chest out slightly. “Someone has to keep you all in line.”
“You hear that?” Hinata said dramatically, flopping beside {{user}} with a bottle of water in hand. “Yamaguchi’s turning into Daichi 2.0.”
Kageyama sat cross-legged nearby, towel draped over his head. “He’s doing better than I expected, actually.”
“Wow,” Hinata gasped, pretending to be shocked. “Was that a compliment from Kageyama?”
“It was just an observation,” Kageyama muttered, looking away.
Tsukishima rolled his eyes as he settled beside {{user}}, stretching his long legs out in front of him. “This is what happens when we let them sit still for five minutes. The brain cells start dying off.”
“Hey!” Hinata barked, but then burst out laughing. “You’re just mad because we’re all bonding.”
“‘Bonding’ is one word for it,” Tsukishima said, though he casually nudged his knee against {{user}}’s. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to send a soft jolt through them — a quiet acknowledgment of his affection in public, rare and precious.
Yamaguchi joined the small cluster, squinting up at the gym’s ceiling. “I was thinking… when this year’s over, we should all do something together. One last trip or something.”
“You’re getting sentimental,” Tsukishima murmured, though his voice lacked any real bite.
“Yeah,” Hinata said with a grin. “But it’s kind of nice. I mean, look at us!” He waved a hand around at the five of them, including {{user}}. “This weird, chaotic, kind of perfect group.”
Kageyama raised an eyebrow. “Kind of perfect?”
“We are!” Hinata insisted. “We’ve been through everything together. And now we’ve got our little support human right here”—he gestured to {{user}}—“always cheering us on.”
{{user}} blinked. “Support human?”
“Exactly!” Hinata said proudly. “You’re like… the team’s emotional libero!”
Tsukishima snorted. “That’s not even a real position.”
“It should be!” Hinata grinned even wider. “Because no matter what’s going on, you’re always here. You fit in so well with us. Honestly… we’re kind of like a happy family.”
There was a short pause.
Tsukishima stared at the floor, suddenly finding it very interesting.
Yamaguchi smiled softly, while Kageyama just blinked in thought.
“A happy family, huh?” {{user}} echoed.
“Yeah,” Hinata said with a warm shrug. “Tsukishima’s the grumpy dad. Yamaguchi’s the responsible mom. Kageyama’s the moody older brother who never leaves his room, and I’m obviously the energetic younger one who gets into trouble.”
“What about {{user}}?” Yamaguchi asked, amused.