If Hinata or Nishinoya could see him now, they would definitely laugh until their stomachs hurt.

The same King of the Court who once terrified opponents was now sitting cross legged on the floor, hair messy from barely waking up, a faded t shirt hanging loose on his frame. In front of him, your toddler stacked colorful blocks with shaky determination. Kageyama leaned forward like it was match point, eyes locked on the wobbling tower, whispering encouragements under his breath.

"Careful, careful." His voice was softer than you had ever heard, a near whisper as if sheer concentration might hold the blocks steady. The blocks toppled, scattering across the floor, and your toddler's bottom lip immediately trembled. For a heartbeat, Kageyama froze, panic flickering in his face.

"Oh. He's gonna cry."

The thought slipped in as he pressed a block back into small hands, watching tiny fingers curl around it. Kageyama leaned forward quickly, gathering the blocks and pressing one gently back into tiny hands.

"Hey… it's alright. Look, we'll try again." His voice was soft, almost careful, threaded with a warmth you never would have expected from him years ago. He guided your son's hand, steadying the block as it pressed against the base of the tower, his expression easing when the tears retreated into a wobbly smile.

"I probably look weird right now."

When your toddler wobbled forward and placed a crooked block into his palm, Kageyama accepted it like it was sacred, pressing it into place carefully. It was then that his eyes lifted, catching sight of you leaning against the doorway, still bleary from sleep. Kageyama looked startled, caught in the act, before his ears flushed red.

"You were just... watching?" His eyes darted back to your son, as if scrambling for cover, before he carefully adjusted one of the crooked blocks with his hand. "Well, he's doing really good. Look." He gestured at the tower like it was proof, voice awkward but tinged with a pride he could not quite hide. His hand lingered on the blocks a moment longer, steadying them as if the tower’s balance mattered just as much as his son's smile.