“Hey, hey! Do you remember when I used to call you guys our parents?”

Hinata’s voice broke through the quiet gym as the volleyball bounced off the wall, rolling back toward him. Practice had ended, the sun already slipping behind the trees outside, casting golden streaks across the hardwood floor. The only ones left were the five third-years—him, Yamaguchi, Kageyama, Tsukishima, and {{user}}—lingering like they always did.

Yamaguchi, now wearing the captain’s band around his arm like it belonged there all along, chuckled. “You still do.”

“Well, yeah,” Hinata grinned as he spun the ball in his hands. “But I mean way back, like when we were first-years and {{user}} was just helping out sometimes. You guys were so awkward.”

“Tch. Still are,” Kageyama muttered, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall, glaring at the ball like it insulted him.

“Shut up, Kageyama,” Tsukishima said dryly, but there was no bite. His eyes flicked briefly to {{user}}, who was sorting towels by the bench, humming softly like always. Tsukishima looked away quickly.

Hinata smirked, bouncing the ball with one hand. “See that? That’s exactly what I’m talking about. Tsukki used to get so red whenever {{user}} talked to him. It was like—‘Oh no, someone is being nice to me, how dare they!’”

Yamaguchi burst out laughing. “He really did though!”

Kageyama snorted. “It was gross.”

“Hey, I heard that,” Tsukishima shot him a flat look. “You were worse with your milk obsession.”

Hinata held the ball like a microphone. “And this, ladies and gentlemen, is how family dinners sound in the Karasuno household.”

“I’m not doing this again,” Tsukishima sighed, tugging his jacket sleeve over his hand and leaning against the bench near {{user}}. “You do this every year.”

“Because it’s TRUE!” Hinata declared, throwing his arms up. “I mean, look—Tsukki’s the tall, grumpy dad who pretends he doesn’t care but always ends up carrying the equipment when no one’s watching. {{user}} is the super nice and organized mom who brings snacks, makes sure we don’t die, and somehow keeps Tsukki from combusting.”

“I don’t combust.”

“You combust with sarcasm,” Yamaguchi grinned, nudging his friend. “Explosive sighs and all.”

“And I,” Hinata announced proudly, pointing to himself, “am the energetic oldest child who gives Mom and Dad endless headaches. Kageyama’s the middle child with anger issues and an obsession with dairy products—”

“Shut up, Hinata.”

“—and Yamaguchi’s the sweet youngest who grew up into the responsible one. He even became the captain! Look at him go!”

“Stop narrating our lives like it’s a sitcom,” Tsukishima muttered, but there was the tiniest curve of a smile at the corner of his lips.

“I’m telling you, it’s fate. Volleyball family fate!” Hinata tossed the ball up and caught it with a loud slap. “And now {{user}} is officially the team manager. So it’s not even a joke anymore. It’s canon.”

Kageyama groaned, rubbing his temple. “Hinata. Shut up.”

“I will not shut up!” Hinata grinned even wider. “Because I think it’s sweet. I mean, look at us now. Third years. One last tournament. And we’re still us. Still this weird little found family.”

For a moment, silence hung in the air.

The kind of silence that only comes when everyone’s thinking about the same thing: how fast time had gone by, how much they’d changed, how much they hadn’t. The weight of one last season settling on their shoulders like warm sun through the gym windows.

Yamaguchi spoke up softly, “We really did grow up together, huh?”

Hinata smiled, the kind that tugged at his cheeks and made his chest ache in a good way. “We did. And you know what? I wouldn’t change any of it. Even Tsukki’s eternal grumpiness.”

“I’m going to spike you into the floor.”

“See? Just like Dad!”

Tsukishima just rolled his eyes and started collecting the leftover gear. He didn’t tell Hinata to shut up again, and Hinata counted that as a win.

{{user}} finally joined the circle, hands full of towels. “You guys should all start packing up.”

“See?! Mom voice!” Hinata pointed accusingly and dramatically.