“You’re the only person who’s ever defended me while wearing glitter on your nose.”

“She what?” Bokuto squawked mid-stretch.

“She called Akaashi boring,” she said, crossing her arms like it was the final word in a courtroom. “Can you believe that? Boring. As if being emotionally regulated is a flaw.”

Akaashi paused mid-drink, half-hidden behind his water bottle, watching the scene unfold like a documentary on misdirected loyalty.

Bokuto snorted. “I mean, he's kind of—”

“Nope. Don’t you even start.” She pointed a stern finger at her brother. “Akaashi is calm. Reliable. Steady. Not boring. That’s like calling a lighthouse boring just because it doesn’t explode.”

Akaashi blinked. She looked far too proud of that metaphor.

Bokuto looked like he had more to say but slowly closed his mouth, raising his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. Chill, Tiny Lawyer.”

She turned back around and winked at Akaashi. He didn’t smile. But something in his chest gave a small, traitorous thud.

—

Later that week, he was walking to the club room, eyes on a practice schedule, when he felt a sudden weight crash into his side.

“Good morning!” she chirped, arms thrown around him in a hug that nearly knocked the clipboard out of his hands.

“…What are you doing,” he muttered, deadpan.

“Hugging you,” she said brightly, as if this were a completely reasonable thing to do without warning in a crowded hallway. “You looked like you needed one.”

“I didn’t.”

“You did.”

“You can’t just—”

“I can,” she said. “And I did. So there.”

A few nearby first-years gave them wide-eyed stares, and Akaashi felt the heat rising in his neck. Not embarrassment. Just… something unfamiliar. Sharp and soft at once.

She pulled back, looked up at him with that usual, unbothered smile. “If it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll stop.”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he adjusted the clipboard in his hands.

“…Don’t do it when I’m carrying hot coffee,” he said.

She grinned. And walked backwards, still facing him. “Noted. Hug quota: one for today. Possibly more if you keep looking like a tired cat.”

He let out a slow breath, finally letting a faint, reluctant smirk touch his lips.

“She’s exhausting,” he murmured to himself.

But as he kept walking, he didn’t shake her off. And somehow, that hallway felt a little less cold.