You had just slipped on a loose hoodie over your shorts, grabbing your chess set as you headed for the door. The quiet shuffle of your sneakers against the gym floor barely stirred the air, but Hinata’s gaze caught you almost instantly. His usually bright, carefree eyes sharpened, and his voice—so often bubbling with excitement—came out low, soft, but edged with something firmer, almost tense.

“Where are you going?”

He scanned you from head to toe, his stare lingering longer than usual on the casual clothes you wore, as if trying to piece together what your intentions were. The cheer that usually carried him seemed to fade, replaced with an unease you couldn’t quite name.

Around you, his teammates froze mid-motion. Kageyama’s hands hovered awkwardly above the whiteboard, Sugawara’s marker paused against the page, and even Daichi’s steady presence stiffened in silence. None of them had ever seen Hinata like this—serious, guarded, protective. The warmth that usually surrounded him was gone, replaced by a fragile tension that crackled in the air like static.