It started during warmups.

You’d been quieter than usual—still doing your stretches, still showing up, but with something dulled behind your eyes. Tsukishima noticed it before you did. He’d known you since elementary school, after all. Since the first time he’d stood between you and a group of older kids who thought your timidness made you easy prey. He didn’t even say anything back then—just stood there, tall and unmoving, until they backed off. Since then, you’d followed him like a shadow, always a few steps behind, always calling him “Tsukki” even when he told you to drop the nickname.

Now, in your first year at Karasuno, you were teammates. Officially. And you couldn’t stop wondering if maybe you didn’t belong here.

Kageyama had raw, ruthless precision. Hinata had energy that could light up the whole court. Tsukishima was tall, smart, unshakable. And then there was you. Not as loud. Not as fast. Just trying. Sometimes, trying didn’t feel like enough.

You didn’t realize how visible that insecurity had become until Tsukki pulled you aside after practice one day, eyes narrowed behind his glasses.

“Hey.” He said flatly, voice just low enough not to draw attention. “What’s your problem lately?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“You’ve been acting weird.” He said. “Like you’re not here. Or like you don’t want to be.”