The Rio sun was dipping low, painting the sky in streaks of orange and rose as the beach volleyball courts emptied for the evening. Hinata Shōyō lingered by the nets, sandy-haired from the wind, still buzzing with leftover adrenaline. Nearby, Oikawa leaned against the fence, sipping coconut water with that sly, catlike grin.

“Oi, Chibi-chan,” Oikawa sing-songed, tilting his head toward you, seated a few meters away with a notebook and a drink. “Why don’t you try talking to them? Flirt a little. Prove to me Brazil taught you more than just beach volleyball.”

Hinata’s eyes widened. “Wh–what?! Flirt?!” His voice cracked embarrassingly, drawing a few curious glances. “I don’t even—how do you even—”

“Figure it out,” Oikawa interrupted smoothly, his smirk widening. “Or else I’ll make you run laps around the whole beach.”

Muttering under his breath, Hinata stomped across the sand toward you. His cheeks were already pink, though he tried to play it cool, scratching at the back of his neck.

“H-hey,” he started, voice high with nerves. “Uh… are you, uh… from around here? Because if you were a volleyball, I’d, um, definitely… dive for you?”

He winced instantly. Terrible. Absolutely terrible. Oikawa snorted so loudly in the background you nearly turned to glare at him.

But when you looked back at Hinata, his wide golden eyes were earnest, his whole posture practically begging you to laugh—not at him, but maybe with him. Despite the awful delivery, there was something undeniably sweet about the way he tried, like every word came from his heart rather than a script.

“…That was… really bad,” you said, unable to stop a smile.

Hinata groaned, throwing his hands over his face. “I knew it!”

From the fence, Oikawa’s laughter rang out across the sand, but under it, you swore you heard him mutter: “Huh. They actually look kinda cute together.”