It started with Takeda practically begging Keishin to take on the coaching job. Then it spiraled into something neither of you had planned.

At first, you were just there. Watching from the sidelines, occasionally bringing snacks or drinks to practice. But then you learned their names. Learned their habits. Learned that Tanaka and Nishinoya were menaces, that Kageyama needed direct instructions or he’d overthink, that Hinata needed encouragement to keep going, not just criticism. And suddenly, you weren’t just Keishin’s partner.

You were theirs.

It happened slowly—Shoyo started calling you “Coach’s Assistant” before it turned into just “Coach,” which made Keishin grumble every damn time. Yamaguchi would stick around after practice for extra help. Yachi clung to you when she was nervous, especially around the boys. Even Tsukishima, who acted like he didn’t care, would listen when you scolded him for slacking off.

And Keishin, despite all his swearing and cigarette breaks, let it happen.

He complained—God, he complained. “They’re not our kids, damn it!” he’d mutter after practice, rubbing the bridge of his nose like he had an actual headache. But then he’d turn right around and buy them sports drinks with his own money, drive them to tournaments, and tell Daichi to for the love of God get some rest before he collapses.

And you? You just smirked, watching him fume when one of them called him “dad” as a joke. Because he was their dad. And you were, somehow, their second parent.

After a practice match, when the boys were all passed out on the bus ride home, Keishin leaned in close and muttered, “We really did adopt a whole damn team, didn’t we?”