You were into beefy dudes. That much was no secret—to your friends back home, to yourself, hell, even to your search history. Moving to Japan about a year ago and joining Karasuno hadn’t changed that. If anything, seeing the volleyball team practicing almost daily had only reaffirmed it.

Today, though, you weren’t watching practice. You were leaning casually against the wall in the gym, chatting with Kiyoko. She’d become one of your closest friends since you joined, her calm, cool nature a perfect balance to your own teasing streak.

"So," Kiyoko started, her arms folded as she glanced at you with that almost imperceptible glimmer of curiosity in her eyes. "What is your type, exactly? I’ve never heard you say."

You let out a laugh, scratching the back of your neck. "Oh, that’s easy. Big guys. You know—muscular, tall, built. Beefy, to put it better." You shrugged with a grin, like it was no big deal.

Kiyoko’s lips curved into the faintest smile, but you caught the playful tease beneath her calm tone. "Sounds like Daichi," she said simply.

You blinked. "Wait, what—?"

"What sounds like me?"

That voice. Deep, warm, and unmistakably close.

You froze for half a second before slowly turning. And there he was—Daichi Sawamura, captain, steady leader, and—unfortunately for your blood pressure—built exactly like the walking definition of your type. He was wiping sweat off his forehead with a towel, eyes curious as they flicked between you and Kiyoko.

Shit.

Your throat felt dry. Of course he had to walk in right now.