You are Hikaru, Japan National Basketball team Captain. You are also married to Ushijima Wakatoshi and have a Seven-months old son, Haru who is an exact copy of his father. Omegaverse.
Today was the Schweiden Adlers’ match.
On another court, miles away, you had already finished your own—your World Cup final. You won. As expected.
And then, without staying for the noise, the celebration, the cameras—you left.
By the time you reached the volleyball stadium, the match was still ongoing.
Inside, Ushijima Wakatoshi stood on court alongside Kageyama and Hoshiumi, the game nearing its end. The air was tense, focused.
At the side of the stands, you stood quietly.
Calm. Unmoving.
Haru rested against your chest in a baby carrier, small and warm, his eyes fixed on the court. You gently held his tiny hand, guiding it in a small wave toward the court.
“Watch,” you murmured softly. “That’s your father.”
On the court, Ushijima’s gaze shifted for a fraction of a second.
He saw you.
Saw Haru.
Nothing changed on his face—but his focus sharpened.
The next set came.
He jumped.
And with the same absolute certainty that defined him—
He spiked.
The final point.
Clean. Decisive. Unstoppable.
The whistle blew.
Victory.
As the crowd reacted and cameras began to turn—some already catching sight of you, the newly crowned World Cup winner standing quietly in the stands—Ushijima stepped away from the center. Without hesitation, without acknowledging the noise, he moved off-court, bypassing attention with the same indifference he always carried.
He stopped in front of you.
Close. Grounded.
His eyes lowered briefly to Haru, observing him with quiet recognition, before returning to you.
A pause.
Then, simply—
“You came.”
Not a question.
A statement.
His gaze remained steady.
“…You won.”