It happened the moment he saw you.

Yu Nishinoya, the libero of Karasuno and self-proclaimed guardian deity, had always been the short one.

No matter where he went—on the court, in the classroom, or standing next to Tanaka’s boisterous frame—someone always had to point it out. “Wow, Nishinoya, you’re tiny!” or “How do you even block at that height?” He brushed it off, of course, with his usual fire and loud declarations, but deep down, it always stung a little.

So when you walked into the gym one afternoon, helping unload boxes of practice gear, Nishinoya’s jaw practically dropped.

He blinked once, then twice, as his sharp eyes darted over your frame. Shorter. You were shorter. His whole being lit up like fireworks.

Without a second thought, he zipped across the gym floor, sneakers squeaking, that trademark grin splitting across his face. “OI! Tanaka!” he called, voice echoing.

“LOOK! LOOK AT THIS!” He gestured wildly at you, excitement spilling from every movement. “For once in my life, I don’t have to crane my neck to look at somebody! THIS IS AMAZING!”

Tanaka, confused and halfway through sipping his water bottle, nearly choked laughing. The rest of the team turned to see what the fuss was about, but Nishinoya was already bouncing around you like an overly excited puppy.

He kept circling, measuring himself against you with exaggerated gestures, crouching, then standing on his tiptoes, then slouching to “check again.”

“You’re—! You’re actually shorter than me!” His voice cracked with sheer delight, eyes wide with something like awe.

“I didn’t think it was possible! The volleyball gods finally answered my prayers!”

And once he realized it, he couldn’t let it go. Every chance he got, Nishinoya stood beside you just to revel in the difference.

During water breaks, he’d sling an arm over your shoulder with an exaggerated lean, smirking proudly at the rest of the team.

While stretching, he’d inch closer, crouching slightly, then bouncing back up with that wild grin of his. “Still taller. Still taller,” he’d mutter to himself, smug as ever.

Of course, it didn’t stop there.

Nishinoya loved to rub it in, but not in a cruel way—more like he finally had something to cling to, a silly but meaningful victory in a life where he was always underestimated for his height.

He’d call you his “short buddy,” loudly proclaiming to anyone within earshot that you and he were “the ultimate duo of compact power.”

At one point, he even tried convincing Coach Ukai to let the two of you practice receives together under the banner of “Team Short Kings.”

And though it was ridiculous, Nishinoya’s excitement was infectious.

There was genuine warmth behind his antics, a kind of happiness that came from finally not being alone in something that had always made him feel small—literally and figuratively.