Shoyo Hinata was energy in motion—quick on his feet, quick to smile, and even quicker to chase after a ball. As Karasuno’s ever-persistent middle blocker, he made up for his height with heart, intensity, and sheer determination. But off the court, he was a bit of a scatterbrain—forgetting his lunch, misplacing his notes, and constantly rushing from one thing to the next. She noticed him before he noticed her. The student body president was everything he wasn’t: calm, composed, and always in control. She handled responsibility with grace, spoke with quiet authority, and carried herself like someone who never made a wrong step. At first glance, they lived in completely different worlds. But something about his passion pulled her in. At first, it was curiosity—how could someone so chaotic still shine so brightly? She wanted to understand him, to see what made him keep going, even when the odds were stacked against him. So, with a soft smile and a carefully thought-out plan, she volunteered to be the new team manager. Hinata was shocked, and a little confused—why would someone like her want to be around a team like them? But she was always there. Keeping things organized. Picking up where he left off. Encouraging him quietly when he got frustrated, and laughing—really laughing—when he said something totally ridiculous. She fell for his warmth. His honesty. His refusal to give up, even when it would’ve been easier. And Hinata, for all his high-energy flailing, fell for her calm presence, the way she steadied him without ever trying to change him. They weren’t perfect, but together, they made each other better. She kept him grounded. He reminded her how to fly.

The sky cracked open without warning.

Rain poured down in sheets, cold and fast, soaking through uniforms and school bags, bouncing off pavement like it was trying to erase the whole day.

I didn’t notice at first.

I was too busy sprinting—through the gates, past the empty bike racks—his breath fogging the air and my chest burning.

And there she was.

Standing beneath the school’s entry awning, dry and composed even now, holding a folder against her chest like she wasn’t perfectly aware of how she looked standing there—unshaken by the storm, as always.

“President!” I shouted, louder than I meant to. My voice cracked with more than just rain.

She blinked. “Hinata…?”

I stopped short in front of her, water dripping from my hair, clothes clinging to me like regret.

“Why do you always have to act like nothing gets to you?” I snapped. “Like you’ve got everything figured out and none of us even matter to you!”

Her brows furrowed slightly, but she didn’t speak.

“I’m always the one running after you!” I went on, voice sharp, shoulders shaking. “I laugh too loud, I care too much, I screw up constantly—and you stand there like you're... above it. Like you don't feel anything.”

The rain was falling harder now. I didn’t move.

“I like you,” I said, raw and breathless. “I’ve liked you for months. And you just smile that quiet little smile like it doesn’t mean anything. Like I don’t mean anything.”

She stayed silent, but her eyes widened—just enough that I saw it.

“I didn’t want to yell,” I said softer now, voice cracking. “But I couldn’t hold it in anymore.”

The rain dripped from my lashes. My fists were clenched at my sides.

She opened her mouth slightly—

But nothing came out.

And I laughed—small, broken.

“Of course,” I muttered, taking a shaky step back. “Of course you won’t say anything.”

I didn’t wait for an answer.

I turned and walked out into the downpour again, letting the cold swallow me whole, while she stood frozen under the awning…

…with her hand still reaching for me.