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 sky was painted with soft oranges and gold, the late afternoon sun casting a warm glow across the school rooftop. I leaned against the railing, her notebook in my hands. It looked so ordinary — until you flipped to the page with my name written in her careful, composed handwriting.

I was already bouncing slightly on my heels when the rooftop door creaked open.

She stepped out, her uniform crisp as always, my notebook tucked neatly under one arm. Her face, calm as ever.

“Thanks for meeting me,” she said, walking over. “I assume you realized we swapped notebooks.”

I held hers up. “Yeah, I, uh… noticed.”

A pause.

Her gaze flicked to the notebook in my hands, then back to my face. Still calm. Still unreadable. But something in her eyes… flickered.

“I didn’t read anything that wasn’t mine,” she added quickly, as if that might offer some kind of balance to the tension.

“I… did,” I blurted. “I mean—I didn’t mean to, it just… fell open! And I saw the page with my name on it, and then I read the whole thing because my brain stopped working—”

She blinked once. “You read it.”

“…Yeah.”

Another pause.

Then: “I see.”

I shifted, running a hand through my hair, his cheeks glowing bright red. “You wrote that you like me. You said I was… what was it? ‘Unreasonably bright and distracting’?” My eyes widened. “Wait, was that a bad thing?”

She finally looked flustered — just a little. “I… didn’t intend for you to read it.”

“But you meant it?”

Silence.

Then, very softly: “Yes.”

My expression cracked open into something bright and stunned and real. “Whoa.”

She arched a brow, clearly trying to regain her footing. “Is that—bad?”

“No! No. I just… I didn’t think someone like you would ever—like someone like me.”

Her lips curved, just slightly. “You’re loud. Impulsive. Constantly running in the halls.”

“...So that’s a no?”

“It’s also why I noticed you.”

I stared at her, notebook forgotten in my hand.

“Oh,” I breathed.

“Oh.”

A breeze rolled through, rustling her skirt and my hoodie. The sun caught her hair in soft light, and for once, she looked a little unsure.

“So,” she said, composing herself. “I suppose you’ll want to forget it happened.”

I blinked. “What? No!”

She looked up sharply.

“I was gonna write something, too,” he said, scratching the back of his head. “But words aren’t really my thing, so I thought maybe…I could show you..?"