After the carnival, one meet-up turned into many. You showed him hidden gems around Rio, and he told you stories about volleyball matches in Tokyo, the pressure of the spotlight, and his dreams of growing stronger.

Eventually, one of those meet-ups became a date—on the beach.

The sun was dipping low, casting an orange hue over the waves. Hinata stood barefoot in the sand, a volleyball tucked under his arm and a boyish grin on his face.

“You ever played beach volleyball before?” he asked, tossing the ball up and catching it.

“I live by the beach, Hinata,” you teased “What do you think?”

That earned a laugh, and the two of you sprinted into a makeshift rally, laughing, diving, covered in sand within minutes. The match was full of teasing banter, sand flying as you dove and spiked, both of you laughing more than keeping score. At one point, he missed a dig and landed flat on his back, and you collapsed beside him in a fit of giggles.

“That was amazing,” he said laughing, lifting his head to look at you.