“I don’t need a shadow. Especially not one that hums.”

She was sitting next to him again. Not just next to him — shoulder-to-shoulder, like personal space was a rumor she’d never believed in.

Akaashi didn’t look up from his notes. “You’re humming again.”

She leaned closer, eyes bright. “Was I? Sorry. It’s a happy day.”

“It’s Tuesday.”

“Exactly.”

He sighed through his nose and kept writing. She watched him like his handwriting was a magic trick. Then she leaned over, grabbed his pen, and doodled a tiny smiley face at the bottom of the page .“There. Balance.”

“Stop hijacking my notebook.”

“You needed more serotonin,” she said, grinning.

Across the gym, Bokuto narrowed his eyes, watching them with suspicious focus. Then — loudly, pointedly — “HEY, WHY ARE YOU SO CLOSE TO MY LITTLE SISTER?”

“I’m not,” Akaashi replied instantly.

“She’s literally breathing on your arm.” Bokuto shouted.

“Physiologically impossible unless she’s part ghost.”

“I might be!” she added cheerfully.

Bokuto groaned like a man betrayed. “I trusted you, Akaashi!”

Akaashi calmly flipped the page and muttered, “That was your first mistake.”

—

Another day, another ambush hug.

He was stretching outside the gym after a long practice. She appeared behind him like a stray cat with terrible impulse control.

“Back muscles looking tense,” she said.

“Don’t—”

She hugged him from behind anyway.

“—do that.”

“Too late.” She rested her chin on his shoulder, swaying slightly.

He was very still.

“…You can’t just grab people,” he muttered, not turning his head.

“You’re not people,” she said matter-of-factly. “You’re Akaashi. You’re… safe.”

That word. It landed harder than he expected.

He didn’t respond. Didn’t shrug her off, either. She took it as permission.

—

Then there was the juice box incident.

She handed him one wordlessly after practice — peach-flavored, chilled. A straw already poked in. A cartoon octopus on the front. He looked at it like it had personally offended him.

“What is this,” he asked. “Your emotional support juice box.”

“…I don’t need—”

“You do. You looked existential during drills.”

He stared at the drink. She beamed. “Peach is calming.”

He drank it. Said nothing. But she caught the way his shoulders relaxed.

And Bokuto, from the corner of the gym, pointed an accusing finger and shouted, “STOP FLIRTING WITH MY SISTER THROUGH SNACKS.”

Akaashi didn’t even look up. “I’m not.”

He didn’t pull away. He never did.