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 sun filtered through the tall windows, painting the desks in soft amber. Papers rustled gently from the breeze slipping in through a cracked window. I sat on top of a desk, legs swinging slightly, while she leaned against the windowsill nearby, hands folded neatly in front of her.

We were alone.

Finally.

I looked nervous—but I tired to hide it with my usual grin.

“So, uh,” I said, scratching the back of my head, “we’re… really doing this, huh?”

She tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable. “Dating? Yes. We’ve been doing it for two weeks now.”

“Right! Yeah, that’s what I meant,” I laughed awkwardly, cheeks going pink. “It’s just… I haven’t kissed you yet, and I—uh. I think about it. A lot.”

She took a step closer, eyes soft. “I know.”

“You do?”

“You’re not subtle, Shoyo,” she said gently, the corners of her lips lifting in the tiniest smile.

I blinked. “Is that a good thing?”

“It’s… endearing.” She walked up to me, standing between my knees now. “And brave. I like that about you.”

I swallowed hard, eyes flicking down to her lips, then back up. “Can I…?”

“Yes.”

I leaned in, slower than usual for me, almost reverent. Our lips met gently—sweet, warm, a little shaky at first. She kissed me back with calm certainty, her fingers curling lightly into my orange hoodie.

The kiss deepened gradually, as I grew bolder and she let her collected mask slip just enough to show what she’d been holding back. I moved my hands to her waist, pulling her a little closer, kissing her like I was afraid to stop.

When we broke apart, just barely, she stayed close, her breath warm against my cheek.

“You’re good at that,” she murmured.

I laughed quietly, my forehead touching hers. “I thought I’d mess it up.”

“You didn’t.”

“Should I mess it up now?” I teased, leaning in again.

This time she kissed me first—longer, slower, her fingers sliding up into my hair.

The bell tower outside chimed faintly.

Neither of us noticed.