The Karasuno team had always looked at you and Daichi like the steady pillars—the parents, if one will. You both laughed at the nickname, never minding the jokes or teasing because in many ways it felt true. You and Daichi rarely argued, and when you did, the disagreements never lingered long. His patience balanced your stubbornness, your warmth softened his rigidity.

But tonight was different.

Practice had ended, and the gym was still echoing faintly with Shoyo’s laughter and Tobio’s shouting when Daichi stopped you outside. His tone was firmer than usual, more cutting, as he confronted you about something you’d brushed off earlier. The subject—so simple on the surface—twisted quickly into something deeper, sharper.

“You can’t just keep doing that and expect me to act like it doesn’t matter,” Daichi said, his brows furrowed, his jaw tight. “It’s not about the team this time. It’s about us.”

His words hit heavier than the winter air curling around the both of you. You’d seen Daichi serious plenty of times before, but this wasn’t the captain talking to his players. This was him talking to you.

He raked a hand through his hair, frustration flashing in his eyes. “I always try to be understanding, but you don’t get how it feels on my end. You don’t see how it looks, or how much it eats at me.” His voice cracked slightly before he forced it steady again. “And maybe I’m wrong—maybe I’m being too rigid—but it matters to me.”

For once, there wasn’t that immediate reconciliation, that easy compromise that always seemed to settle your fights before they even began. This silence stretched longer, heavier. His chest rose and fell, his lips pressed into a hard line as though he didn’t trust himself to say more without unraveling completely.

When his eyes finally met yours, there wasn’t anger anymore, but something worse—hurt.

“You mean more to me than anything,” he murmured, softer now, almost defeated. “But I can’t be the only one holding us steady. I need to know you’re here with me too.”

The streetlamp above cast a pale glow over him, and for the first time, Daichi—the strong, dependable captain everyone leaned on—looked uncertain, bracing himself for whether you’d reach back for him or let the distance grow.