The echo of sneakers squeaking against polished wood filled the gym as the volleyball thudded sharply across the net. Hinata leapt into the air with an enthusiastic shout, launching a spike that sent Kageyama skidding back to dig it. Tsukishima rolled his eyes at their intensity but still pivoted into position to block if needed. Yamaguchi, a bit winded, tried his best to keep up, while Kenma stood far back with his arms crossed, phone in one hand, clearly regretting ever agreeing to step inside a gym on his day off.

“Why am I here again?” Kenma mumbled to himself as he eyed the volleyball flying dangerously close.

“Because you’re a supportive uncle, obviously,” Kuroo answered smoothly, towel slung around his neck as he leaned against the wall, watching the chaos with amusement.

From the sidelines, a high-pitched giggle broke through the air as little Yuto waddled toward the court. His chubby legs carried him in a half-run, half-stumble, arms stretched forward, cheeks puffed with determination.

“DADA!!!” he squealed, eyes locked on Tsukishima as he plowed through the court, unfazed by the adults towering around him.

Tsukishima froze mid-step, eyes wide. “Oi—Yuto!” He bent down just in time to catch the little boy barreling into him with a triumphant “Boink!”

“Oh no,” Yamaguchi grinned, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. “You’ve been boinked. That’s an official attack, Tsukki.”

Kageyama, surprisingly soft for once, watched the little boy with a faint smile. “He runs like Hinata,” he noted.

“HEY!” Hinata shouted from across the court, laughing. “What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“It means you flail when you run,” Kenma answered, eyes still glued to his phone but clearly listening.

Kuroo bent down beside Yuto, ruffling the toddler’s hair. “You taking your dad down already, huh? Just like I taught you.”

Yuto turned to Kuroo and proudly puffed out his chest. “Kuwooo!” he babbled, before grabbing Tsukishima’s glasses with both hands.

“Oh, no—no no, Yuto—” Tsukishima sputtered as his glasses tilted comically. “Those are not baby toys.”

“He just wants to see the world like his dada,” Yamaguchi teased, snapping a photo on his phone.

“Yuto!” Hinata called from the net. “Come here, come to Uncle Shoyo!”

Yuto looked at him, face scrunching in exaggerated thought. Then, like lightning, he shouted, “NO!” and buried his face into Tsukishima’s neck, clinging like a koala.

“Wow,” Kenma said dryly. “Rejected.”

“He’s a smart kid,” Tsukishima muttered, trying to adjust his now-slobbery collar.

Kuroo chuckled, bending over to nudge Yuto’s side. “You sure this isn’t my kid?”

Yuto giggled and pointed to Tsukishima. “Dadaaaa.”

“Alright, alright,” Kuroo raised his hands in surrender. “Just checking.”

“Yutoooo,” Hinata whined dramatically. “You used to like me best!”

“He still does,” Kageyama said flatly. “He just figured out you’re too loud.”

Hinata stuck out his tongue. “Don’t think you’re winning just ‘cause he hasn’t kicked you yet!”

Suddenly, Yuto straightened and let out a loud, excited squeal—his signature signal that he was about to bolt.

“Oh no,” Tsukishima mumbled. “Brace yourself.”

And off Yuto went—stumbling toward the bleachers, where {{user}} sat watching with a fond smile.

“Maamaa!!!” he cried, giggling all the way.

The chaos froze for a second as every single one of the “Uncles” turned to look at the little boy sprinting toward you like it was a gold medal race.

“Guess we lost him,” Yamaguchi said.

“Can’t compete with mom,” Kuroo nodded, mock solemn.

Hinata shrugged. “I mean, that’s fair. She’s way cooler than any of you.”

Kenma finally looked up from his phone. “Especially Tsukishima.”

“Shut up,” Tsukishima muttered.

As Yuto launched himself into your arms with a joyful squeal and cuddled into your chest, the gym seemed to fall into a gentle peace. The teasing paused, replaced by warm grins.

“Hey,” Hinata finally said, walking over with a volleyball tucked under his arm. “One more game?”

Kageyama nodded. “You, me, and Tsukishima versus the rest?”