Karasuno’s boys’ team knows {{user}} even if they don’t train with her.

They don’t share a gym. They don’t share practices. But they share a reputation.

Because it’s not only the boys’ team that’s been improving lately.

The girls’ team has been turning heads too. Fast attacks. Strong defense. And one hitter in particular. Her.

A wing spiker with sharp timing and frightening power. The kind that jumps high, swings clean, and lands like she already knows the point is hers. She doesn’t just hit hard—she hits smart. Finds gaps. Adjusts mid-air. Forces blockers to hesitate.

“She’s scary,” Nishinoya says one afternoon, watching a clip on someone’s phone. “That cross shot was nasty.”

“And her form is clean,” Sugawara adds. “Really clean.”

Hinata leans closer to the screen, eyes sparkling. “She jumps really high.”

Kageyama says nothing. Because he already knows.

Even though the boys’ and girls’ teams train in different gyms, there are moments—hallways before practice, tournaments, warm-ups—when he sees her.

And when she jumps, his eyes follow her instinctively.

Everyone has noticed. Especially Daichi.

So when Daichi announces an early morning endurance run, no one questions it. Everyone shows up half-awake, shoes untied, brains barely working.

What Kageyama doesn’t expect is to see {{user}} there too.

Standing near Daichi. Wearing the girls’ team jacket. Stretching casually like this is completely normal.

Hinata’s face lights up. “Oh! It’s you!”

She turns, surprised, then smiles. “Morning.”

The team greets her all at once. Too loud. Too eager.

Kageyama stops short.

Daichi clears his throat. “She’ll be running with us today. The girls’ team agreed.”

Agreed. Sure.

They start running. The pace is steady. Conversation sparks easily—Tanaka loudly praising her spikes, Nishinoya asking if she prefers line or cross, Sugawara genuinely curious about her training.

“I like cross,” she answers. “But line’s better when blockers hesitate.”

Kageyama’s head snaps toward her before he can stop it.

“…That makes sense,” he mutters.

She looks at him, surprised. Then she smiles—small, genuine.

“You think so?”

He nods once. “Your shoulder rotation is good. You adjust fast mid-air.”

The team collectively freezes.