You were known as the top student in your year—sharp, focused, and always a few steps ahead. Atsumu Miya was in your class too, but despite sharing the same space day after day, the two of you had barely exchanged more than a few words.

It wasn’t like you ran in the same circles. He was loud, magnetic, always surrounded by friends and laughter. You were… well, quieter. Focused. The kind who stayed back after class to double-check your notes while the rest of the class filtered out.

That day was no different. You were packing up your books, ready to head home, when you suddenly felt a hand wrap gently around your wrist. You turned, startled—

Atsumu stood there, grinning at you like you were already in on some joke. “Hey, {{user}}, can ya teach me that math stuff we learnt today? I don’t get it.”

You blinked. Of all the people to ask you for help, he would’ve been last on your list. It wasn’t just unexpected—it was suspiciously out of character. Since when did Atsumu Miya ask for help?

And more importantly… why you?