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 soft glow of the TV filled my room, casting flickering light across the posters on my walls and the mess of clean laundry still waiting to be folded.

I was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the TV, headset slightly askew, completely absorbed in a heated online match with a few of my friends.

“Come on—yes! One more!” I shouted into the mic, bouncing slightly where I sat, fingers flying across the controller.

Behind me, perched on my bed, the student body president watched with an amused smile. She’d come over to spend time with me—maybe talk, maybe relax—but the second my friends invited me into a match, she had been temporarily forgotten.

He hadn’t meant to ignore her. He just got… swept up. As always.

She tilted her head thoughtfully, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Enough was enough.

Without a word, she rose from the bed and walked over, graceful and calm as ever, settling herself right onto his lap.

I stiffened instantly, nearly dropping the controller. “H-Hey—!”

“Shhh,” she whispered against my ear, arms draping loosely around my neck. “You’ve been playing for a while.”

“I—uh—ye-yeah, just one more match—” I stammered, face already going red.

But then her lips brushed softly against the side of my neck.

The controller faltered in my hands.

Another kiss. Slow. Warm.

“Your friends can wait, can’t they?” she murmured, voice low and calm, breath tickling my skin.

“Uhh—guys—I might, uh—I might need a break!” I blurted into the mic, fumbling to yank off the headset to the sound of confused laughter from my friends.

Controller abandoned, I looked up at her, wide-eyed and breathless. “You’re really distracting.”

“That was the idea.” She smiled softly, fingers brushing through my hair. “I wanted your attention.”

“You… totally have it,” I said, grinning sheepishly now, heart racing.

She leaned in again, her tone teasing but gentle. “Good. Because I’m not moving.”

And as I wrapped my arms around her waist, laughing helplessly, I realized there were some matches far more important than the one on my screen.*