Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter 1: After the Match Ends
Word Count: ~3,300
Pairing: Ushijima Wakatoshi × Hinata Shouyou
Setting: Post-Sendai Spring Nationals Match
Themes: Rivalry → Connection, Emotional Introspection, Start of a Friendship

The match had ended, but the adrenaline still hadn't.

For a while, Hinata couldn’t hear anything over the pulse in his ears.

Karasuno had done it. Somehow, somehow, they’d pulled off the impossible—beating Shiratorizawa in one of the hardest-fought games of the Sendai Spring Nationals. They hadn’t just won. They’d scraped victory from the jaws of something vast and impossible.

But instead of being swept away in the victory rush, Hinata had slipped away quietly. The locker room’s shouting, laughter, and thumps of triumph faded behind him like the aftermath of a storm.

He found himself outside the venue, in the long corridor past the vending machines, where the cool air met his overheated skin. There, standing under the glow of an old security lamp, he finally let himself breathe.

The sky was already darkening, sun dipped behind the stadium walls. He could still hear it faintly—crowds dispersing, coaches giving final instructions, the scuff of sneakers and the slam of gear cases.

Hinata leaned against the machine and ran a hand through his sweat-damp hair. His heart was still racing. But now, it wasn’t from running or jumping.

It was from him.

Ushijima Wakatoshi.

He had felt it in every jump serve. Every block. Every time Ushijima’s eyes locked on his, full of something immovable. Not hatred. Not dismissal.

But a kind of witnessing. Like he saw Hinata, fully, and had decided: You’re worth fighting with all I’ve got.

That—more than the win—was what made Hinata feel shaky now.

It had been a match, yes. But it had also been a conversation. One of strength. Of belief. Of who they were on the court, beneath everything else.

Hinata stared at his unopened drink. “What the hell was that, even…”

“Why are you out here alone?”

The deep voice startled him.

He turned—and there stood Ushijima, perfectly still in his Shiratorizawa jacket. His face, always unreadable, now held a new quiet.

“Whoa!” Hinata laughed, a little too loud. “You scared me.”

Ushijima stepped closer, his eyes sharp and curious in the half-light. “You didn’t answer.”

Hinata blinked, then scratched at the back of his neck. “I guess… I wanted to think. Needed a moment.”

“You played well,” Ushijima said simply.

It wasn’t a compliment offered out of politeness. It landed like something solid.

“You too,” Hinata replied. “Really. You were, um… kinda terrifying, actually.”

Ushijima gave a tiny nod. “I meant what I said before the match. I believed we would win. But now I understand.”

“Understand… what?”

“That volleyball isn't won by strength alone. Or height. Or power.”

Hinata froze.

“You changed the rhythm of the game. Even I couldn’t predict you.”

The words hit like a delayed spike.

“I…” Hinata tried to find his footing. “I never expected to hear you say something like that.”

Ushijima looked at him, tilting his head. “Why?”

“You’re always so…” Hinata gestured vaguely. “Stoic. Serious. Like you were carved out of stone or something.”

Ushijima didn’t smile, but his voice softened. “You surprised me.”

That silence again—wide, full of everything not said.

Hinata finally opened his drink, then sipped to avoid having to speak too fast.

“I used to think we were opposites,” Hinata said eventually. “But today, I kinda felt like… maybe we’re just different ends of the same thing.”

Ushijima looked out into the distance. “We both move toward the ball without hesitation.”

“Yeah,” Hinata said. “Exactly.”

There was a pause, and then, unexpectedly, Ushijima asked, “Do you want to train with me?”

Hinata’s eyes widened. “Wait—seriously?”

“You are fast. And unpredictable. I want to learn how to counter that.”

Hinata blinked once, twice—then grinned. “Only if I get to figure out how to block that terrifying left-handed spike of yours.”

Ushijima nodded, as though that sealed it. “Agreed.”

They stood like that for a while—two players, no longer opponents, just… people, beginning something new.

And then—

“Waka-chaaaan!”

Tendou’s voice rang like a firework.

Both boys turned to see the Shiratorizawa second-years approaching: Tendou, Semi, and Shirabu. Tendou, as usual, led the charge with his signature grin and chaotic energy.

“There you are! We thought you got abducted by crow spirits or something.”

“I told you I’d join you later,” Ushijima said.

Shirabu gave Hinata a glance—measured, less guarded than before. “We saw the match you played. It was…”

“…crazy,” Semi added, nodding. “Like a full-blown movie climax.”

Hinata flushed. “I—it wasn’t just me. Everyone on Karasuno—”

“Oh, come on,” Tendou cut in, circling around Hinata like a cat. “Don’t play humble now. You were flying all over the place like a little murder-hummingbird.”

“I don’t think those are real,” Shirabu muttered.

“Let me have this,” Tendou said.

But Hinata just laughed. Something in his chest eased at the way they joked. These were his rivals. And yet—there was something more here. A thread of something genuine, maybe even friendship.

“Tendou,” Ushijima said calmly. “We were in the middle of a conversation.”

“Yeah, yeah, I can see that,” Tendou replied, eyeing the two of them. “Wasn’t gonna interrupt a moment.”

Shirabu groaned. “You literally just did.”

“Anyway,” Semi said, stepping in. “We’re heading back to the hotel. You coming?”

“In a minute,” Ushijima said.

The three exchanged looks. Then, with varying degrees of smirks and sighs, they wandered off again.

Tendou gave Hinata a dramatic wink before vanishing around the corner.

Hinata turned to Ushijima. “They’re funny. I didn’t expect that.”

“They are good teammates,” Ushijima said. “I trust them.”

Hinata looked at him thoughtfully. “You know, I used to think being on a team meant just playing well together. But… it’s more than that, huh?”

“It’s about being able to rely on each other,” Ushijima said. “Even when it’s difficult.”

Hinata nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

A pause.

Then Hinata, a little hesitantly, asked, “Hey… do you think we could be friends too?”

Ushijima met his eyes, unreadable for a heartbeat.

“I would like that,” he said.

Hinata’s heart did something he wasn’t prepared for.

He stuck out his fist, casual but deliberate.

Ushijima considered it for a second—then bumped his own against it.

“Friends,” he repeated.

Later, as Hinata walked back toward the Karasuno bus, the stars had started to peek out. He looked over his shoulder once, half-expecting to see the Shiratorizawa team again.

But they were already gone.

Still, something lingered in the air—like a match point that didn’t signal an end, but a beginning.

A new story. A new rhythm.

He couldn’t wait to see where it led.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2: Gravity in the Quiet

Summary: Hinata and Ushijima spend an evening alone at the Shiratorizawa gym. What begins as post-season training starts to shift—slowly, softly—into something more.

Chapter Notes:
Set shortly after the Spring Nationals Sendai finals. This chapter is fully Ushijima and Hinata POV, low-stakes but emotionally intimate, focusing on subtle shifts in their relationship. Thanks for reading!

The Shiratorizawa gym was quiet in the early evening. No practice sounds echoed off the high rafters. No heavy footfalls or calls from coaches broke the air. Just the faint hum of distant cicadas beyond the walls, the gentle squeak of Hinata’s sneakers as he bounced a ball lightly in his hands.

Ushijima watched from across the court, arms folded, expression as still as ever—but the way his gaze lingered held a weight it hadn't back at Nationals.

“You’re early,” Ushijima said after a long moment.

Hinata grinned. “You’re just late.”

It wasn’t true, but the banter landed anyway. Ushijima’s shoulders relaxed a fraction.

They had agreed—after one of Semi’s suggestions and Tendou’s surprisingly accurate teasing—that Hinata should come train at Shiratorizawa during the off-season, just for a few weeks. “Try playing with someone who pushes you vertically,” Tendou had said, grinning. “Might unlock new powers.”

Hinata wasn’t sure about new powers, but something about being back here—on the enemy’s court, but no longer as an enemy—felt strange and thrilling all at once.

“Let’s warm up,” Ushijima said, stepping forward and catching Hinata’s toss one-handed.

They moved in sync without needing to say much. A few passes, then light spikes, increasing intensity. The rhythm between them developed quickly—fluid and unspoken, like both had been waiting for this without realizing it.

Hinata dove for a low ball, rolled back to his feet. “Man, you really don’t hold back, huh?”

“You can keep up,” Ushijima replied simply.

It was meant as encouragement, but something about the way he said it made Hinata pause. He watched the taller player across the net, eyes narrowed.

“You believe that? That I can keep up—with you?”

Ushijima nodded. “Yes.”

The confidence wasn’t arrogant. It was steady, like it had always been there.

Hinata looked down at his hands, then up at the net. “Back then, I used to wonder if you were some kind of final boss. Like… the wall that meant the end of the road.”

“And now?” Ushijima asked.

“Now…” Hinata smiled again, smaller. “You’re just someone I want to play more with.”

Ushijima tilted his head. “Why?”

There was no judgment in the question. Just curiosity. Hinata appreciated that about him—how direct he was, how uncomplicated he made things feel.

“Because when I jump here,” Hinata said, backing up to the end line, “it feels like I could reach anything.”

He tossed the ball, jumped, and spiked.

The sound echoed sharply in the gym.

Ushijima stared at the ball as it bounced away, then turned back to Hinata with a small, rare look of acknowledgment.

“Again,” he said.

And so they played.

For nearly two hours, they rotated between drills and full-on rallies. Sweat slicked their skin. Breath came harder. Still, neither of them stopped first.

By the end of it, Hinata was lying on his back on the court floor, arms flung out, chest heaving.

Ushijima sat beside him, silent, sipping water.

“You’re quiet,” Hinata murmured after a while.

“I’m thinking.”

“About volleyball?”

Ushijima nodded.

“Same.” Hinata turned his head to look at him. “Do you ever think about Nationals? That final match?”

“Yes.”

A long silence followed. Hinata’s voice softened. “You played amazing.”

“So did you.”

“Thanks.”

The air between them settled again, but it was different this time—heavier, more personal.

Hinata rolled onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow. “Wakatoshi-kun.”

Ushijima blinked, rare surprise flickering in his eyes.

“I’ve always wanted to say your name like that. Is it okay?”

Ushijima nodded once, slowly.

Hinata smiled. “Cool. You can call me Shouyou too, if you want.”

Another pause. Ushijima looked down at the water bottle in his hands.

“Shouyou,” he said, and Hinata’s name sounded almost reverent in his deep voice.

Hinata’s breath hitched a little, then turned into a soft laugh. “That sounded serious.”

“I meant it seriously.”

Hinata’s cheeks flushed.

“I like when people say what they mean,” he said.

“Then we are the same.”

Hinata stared at him—really stared. “Maybe.”

The moment stretched long.

The fluorescent gym lights cast gentle shadows across Ushijima’s face, highlighting the curve of his jaw, the furrow between his brows as if even now, he was puzzling through a volleyball strategy. But his eyes… those were focused entirely on Hinata.

Hinata felt something stir in his chest. Not adrenaline. Not competition.

Something else.

“…I don’t really know what I’m doing,” Hinata admitted.

“With volleyball?”

Hinata laughed. “No. With this. With people. With… feelings.”

Ushijima was silent for a beat.

“Neither do I,” he said. “But I don’t mind learning.”

The sincerity hit like a spike to the heart.

Hinata reached for his towel, trying to mask the way his hands shook a little. “You’re kind of dangerous, Wakatoshi-kun.”

“Because I’m strong?”

“Because you’re honest.”

Ushijima tilted his head, considering that.

Hinata stood up abruptly, slinging his towel over his shoulder. “Anyway. Thanks for today. I’m gonna grab a drink before the vending machines close.”

Ushijima stood too. “I’ll walk with you.”

Hinata hesitated, then smiled. “Okay.”

The two of them left the gym side by side, steps falling into rhythm. The heat of the court still lingered behind them, but the air outside felt cooler, clearer.

A new kind of match had begun.

And neither of them were in a rush to finish it.

Author’s Endnote:
I really enjoyed writing this quiet, emotional training scene that lets Ushijima and Hinata share space not as rivals—but as equals, unsure and curious in a way that’s soft and sincere. Let me know if you’d like to see this dynamic deepen! Chapter 3 soon. ❤️

Chapter Text

Chapter 3 – Unspoken, Understood

Rated T | Post-Spring Nationals | Ushijima × Hinata | Slow Burn | Miscommunication | Emotional Vulnerability

Chapter Notes

Set after the Spring National Sendai Finals. Hinata and Ushijima have been meeting more often—quietly, without expectation. In this chapter, we see the shift. Not dramatic, not loud, but real: a ripple of something that wants to become more.

Thank you for all the support. This is a Hinata-centric emotional lens, with slow, soft development and subtle character tension.

Unspoken, Understood

The gym at Shiratorizawa was quiet that afternoon.

Not the usual kind of quiet—a lull between drills or the low buzz of team chatter—but a silence with weight. Outside, cicadas screamed against the glass, but inside, it was just the sound of sneakers on polished wood and the breathless pause between touches of the ball.

Hinata hit the floor, rolled, and stood up with a practiced fluidity. Ushijima watched, arms crossed, eyes like twin points of gravity—heavy, unreadable, but not cold.

They had been training like this for weeks now. Since the end of Nationals. Since Karasuno’s loss. Since the first invitation had been extended—half a challenge, half a curiosity.

“You move differently,” Ushijima had said, the first time.

“I want to move better,” Hinata had replied.

And that was enough.

Today, though, something felt different. Not bad—just sharp, as if every moment had its own tiny blade.

“You’re hesitating on your left foot again,” Ushijima said, tossing the ball back to him.

“I know,” Hinata muttered. “I felt it.”

“You did not adjust,” Ushijima replied.

Hinata caught the ball, fingers tense.

He nodded. “Yeah.”

There was a beat of silence.

Hinata turned, facing the far wall of the gym, the place where banners used to hang before they were rotated out. The Karasuno loss still clung to him—like sweat that wouldn’t dry, shame stitched into muscle.

He didn’t look back at Ushijima. “Do you think I peaked too soon?”

It wasn’t what he’d meant to say.

He’d meant to ask something about his form, or his jump timing, or even whether his cross-court attack was improving.

But instead, what spilled out was that question—raw, insecure, naked.

Behind him, Ushijima didn’t answer immediately.

“You have not peaked,” he said simply.

Hinata turned to look at him.

“You don’t know that.”

“I do,” Ushijima said, stepping forward. “You’re still changing. That is the only sign that matters.”

Hinata blinked.

“Sometimes it feels like… everything I trained for just led to losing.” His voice was quieter now. “Like maybe I already had my chance, and I blew it.”

Ushijima walked to where the ball had rolled. He picked it up and looked at it, as if it could carry the shape of the conversation.

Then he turned back to Hinata.

“You still play,” he said.

Hinata frowned.

“You are here. You ask questions. You fix your feet.”

Hinata snorted. “That’s it?”

“That is how it starts again,” Ushijima said.

There was no comfort in his tone—but there was certainty. That strange, grounding certainty that he carried like it had been pressed into his bones.

Hinata sat on the floor suddenly, arms draped over his knees.

“It sucks sometimes,” he admitted.

Ushijima lowered himself beside him, not close but not far either.

“I know.”

They sat in silence. The echo of their training still hung in the air—ghost movements, ghost plays.

After a few minutes, Hinata stood again. “One more set?”

Ushijima nodded.

They ran another drill—quiet, deliberate. The rhythm began to return.

Until Hinata landed awkwardly on his final jump and hissed, grabbing his ankle.

Ushijima was at his side instantly.

“Are you hurt?”

Hinata waved it off. “No—no. Just a twist. It’s fine.”

Ushijima frowned.

“I can keep going,” Hinata insisted.

“You should rest.”

“I said I’m fine.”

The snap in his voice wasn’t meant to hit—but it did. A pause stretched between them.

Hinata turned away, rubbing at his ankle.

Ushijima stood still. “You don’t have to prove anything.”

“I’m not.”

“You are trying to play through pain.”

“I’m used to it.”

Ushijima didn’t respond for a moment.

“Do not become used to what breaks you,” he said quietly.

Hinata blinked.

It wasn’t a scolding. It wasn’t even loud. But it landed.

He exhaled. “Sorry.”

“You do not have to apologize,” Ushijima said.

“I wasn’t mad at you. Just—at me.”

“I know.”

Hinata smiled faintly. “You always know.”

Ushijima tilted his head. “No. I learn.”

This time, Hinata laughed. “That’s… weirdly reassuring.”

From the upper stands, someone whistled.

“Ohhh? Are we interrupting something?” came Tendou’s sing-song voice.

Hinata jumped slightly, red blooming on his cheeks.

Shirabu followed, deadpan as ever. “We figured you’d still be here. Training or flirting. Hard to tell the difference with you two.”

Semi smirked. “Heard someone was pushing through an injury? Classic.”

Hinata groaned. “It’s not an injury! It was just a bad landing!”

Tendou grinned. “So, you’re limping dramatically for effect?”

“I am not—!”

Ushijima stepped forward.

“He was adjusting mid-air. He lost momentum on the second lift.”

Shirabu raised a brow. “...That’s oddly specific.”

Tendou leaned toward Semi, stage-whispering, “He’s been watching him very closely.”

“Unusually so,” Semi agreed.

Hinata was now bright red.

“Don’t mind them,” Ushijima said calmly.

“I—yeah, I won’t.”

But he couldn’t stop smiling.

Later, in the locker room, the teasing had faded into the usual noise. The others were talking about future training camps and university visits. Shirabu was already packing double schedules. Semi was eyeing a coaching certificate. Tendou had a new scouting gig, lowkey and mysterious.

Hinata sat on the bench, wrapping his ankle properly this time.

Ushijima sat beside him, elbows resting on his knees.

“I did not mean to undermine your decision,” he said, finally.

Hinata looked up.

“I respect your instinct to keep going. But I would rather see you pause than fall.”

Hinata stared at him.

It was the longest sentence he’d ever heard from Ushijima when it wasn’t about volleyball.

“Thank you,” he said soft

Chapter Text

Chapter 4: When the Dust Settles

Summary: In the quiet after a hard practice, silence lingers longer than words. As the rest of the Shiratorizawa team heads home, Ushijima and Hinata remain in the gym, navigating exhaustion, expectations, and the soft weight of things unspoken. A late-night moment offers clarity. Hinata begins to see the difference between what pushed him forward in the past—and what steadies him now.

Chapter Notes:
Includes: quiet emotional processing, late-night introspection, Ushijima's subtle tenderness, and some light teasing from Tendou & co. Features a jacket-sharing moment, some food, a little sleep, and a lot of feelings beneath the surface.

The gym was nearly dark by the time Hinata realized he hadn’t moved in ten minutes.

He sat near the edge of the court, back pressed to the wall, one knee drawn up, the other stretched out with a rolled towel beneath it. The lights had dimmed into evening-mode—half of them off, the rest humming in a dull orange glow. His water bottle was empty. His limbs felt like sandbags.

Above him, somewhere near the mezzanine, Shirabu’s voice floated down.

“We’re heading out.”

Hinata waved, or thought he did. Maybe it was just a twitch of the fingers. “Yeah. See you tomorrow.”

“Don’t fall asleep here,” Semi warned, only half-joking.

“Again,” Tendou added with a grin. “Unless Wakatoshi’s planning on carrying you home.”

Hinata flushed. “I’m fine—go.”

They left. Their footsteps echoed, faded, disappeared.

And then it was quiet.

Just him and the court and… the sound of soft footsteps behind him.

Ushijima’s voice: “Are you staying?”

Hinata blinked up at him. “Didn’t mean to. Just… resting my eyes.”

“You looked asleep.”

Hinata shrugged. “Maybe I was.”

Ushijima said nothing for a moment. Then he lowered himself to sit beside him, his back against the same wall, legs extended straight out in front of him with perfect posture even while resting.

The silence between them was warm, not heavy. Familiar.

Hinata exhaled, resting his head back. “Do you ever miss it?”

“Miss what?”

“The pressure. The way everyone expected us to win. Every single time.”

Ushijima considered this. “Sometimes.”

Hinata chuckled, but it was tired. “That’s so like you.”

“Do you miss it?”

Hinata tilted his head. “Sometimes I miss knowing exactly who I was. Or at least who I was supposed to be.”

The lights flickered slightly. A cooling system hummed overhead. Time passed, slow and steady.

Then Ushijima stood, walked to the side bench, and returned with his team jacket. Without a word, he placed it across Hinata’s shoulders.

Hinata looked up, surprised. “Thanks. But I’m not cold.”

“You will be.”

Hinata swallowed, lips twitching. “You’re kind of like a grandpa, you know that?”

Ushijima didn’t react, but he sat down again, a little closer this time. “You’ve stopped shivering.”

They sat like that for another while. Hinata eventually let his eyes drift closed, listening to the hum of the lights and the low breath of the gym.

He didn’t realize he’d fully fallen asleep until he woke to the smell of something warm beside him. He blinked blearily.

“Is that… rice balls?”

Ushijima offered one, still wrapped in cling film.

“They’re plain. You missed dinner.”

Hinata stared at him. “Did you go home and come back?”

“No. They were in my bag.”

“...You keep emergency rice balls?”

Ushijima blinked. “Yes.”

Hinata laughed—really laughed this time—and then took one, unwrapping it and biting in with grateful abandon. “Thanks.”

They ate in silence for a few more minutes. Somewhere, the last of the daylight faded completely. Night wrapped around the building like a curtain being drawn.

“You’re… different,” Hinata said quietly. “From Kageyama, I mean.”

Ushijima didn’t look surprised. He nodded. “Yes.”

Hinata fiddled with the wrapper in his lap. “Kageyama always pushed me harder. Like I had to keep up, or I’d disappear. But with you… I don’t feel like I’m chasing anything. Just… grounding.”

Ushijima glanced over. “Is that better?”

Hinata thought about it. “I think it’s something I needed now. I didn’t know I did.”

Another pause. Then:

“You’re not the same as you were, either,” Hinata said.

Ushijima turned to him. “How so?”

“You listen more.”

“I always listened.”

“No,” Hinata smiled, “you always heard. That’s different.”

For a moment, Hinata thought Ushijima might smile back. It wasn’t quite a smile, but something in his expression softened—like clouds parting, just briefly.

Eventually, Hinata yawned. “I should head out.”

Ushijima stood and offered a hand. “I’ll walk with you.”

Hinata took it.

They walked side by side down the path outside the gym. The night was cool and clear, stars blinking overhead.

“You didn’t have to stay,” Hinata said quietly.

“You didn’t have to either.”

They stopped at the gate. For a beat, neither moved.

Then, in a voice low and steady, Ushijima said, “I am glad you did.”

Hinata looked at him—really looked. The lines of his face in the dark. The calm weight of presence, not pressure.

He nodded. “Me too.”

End Notes:

This chapter was built around *pause*. Around emotional residue, and how connection builds not just through action—but stillness. Hinata’s comparing of Kageyama and Ushijima was always coming, and this was the moment for it. They’re growing together in their own strange, quiet rhythm. Thank you for reading. Chapter 5 will bring some warmth, a little awkwardness, and possibly a shift they don’t know how to name yet.

Chapter Text

Chapter 5: That Feeling You Don’t Name Yet

Summary: What started as a simple outing becomes something quieter, deeper — the kind of closeness that sneaks up on you. A bookstore window. A forgotten café. A box of matcha dango. And a visit that neither of them planned. Hinata starts to realize he wants more than just time with Ushijima — he wants him to keep noticing.

Chapter Notes:
Soft emotional tension. Teammates quietly noticing. Yachi drawing chibi birds. Unexpected snacks. A nervous home visit. Welcome to UshiHina tenderness, Phase Two.

“You’re going with him?”

Hinata blinked. Tendou leaned against the gym doors, arms crossed and eyebrows dancing. “With Wakatoshi? Alone?”

“Just groceries,” Hinata replied, trying to keep his voice neutral as he tugged on his hoodie. “And maybe a bookstore.”

“And the beginning of your anime arc,” Semi mumbled from the bench.

Shirabu rolled his eyes. “Don’t get lost.”

Ushijima waited by the door, calm and expectant. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” Hinata said, feeling just a little warmer than before.

The store was nothing special, but the air between them was charged with something new. They moved through aisles like teammates and strangers at once — Hinata chattering occasionally, Ushijima listening more than responding.

When they passed the snack aisle, Hinata hesitated.

“Natsu likes strawberry cream cookies,” he said aloud, then glanced at Ushijima. “And those weird chocolate corn things.”

Ushijima nodded. “We can bring some.”

Hinata blinked. “We?”

“If you’re visiting, it’s polite,” Ushijima said simply. “Also, she is your sister.”

Hinata laughed, a little breathless. “You’re... kind of intense.”

“I’m thorough,” Ushijima replied.

He also picked up a box of matcha dango — soft green rounds in a pale bamboo tray. Hinata raised an eyebrow.

“She likes matcha?” Ushijima asked.

“My mom? Yeah, she loves it.”

“Then this is for her.”

Hinata stared. Something caught in his chest. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to.”

The mall was crowded, but quiet. They passed a small bookstore, and Hinata paused at the display window.

“Oh!” he said, spotting a new volleyball tactics book. He leaned closer. “I read the last one by that author!”

Ushijima stood beside him, gaze flicking to the same shelf.

They didn’t see the two figures sitting quietly at the café across the corridor.

“That’s them,” Daichi murmured into his tea.

Sugawara smiled. “They look good together.”

“Should we say something?”

“No,” Sugawara said softly. “Let them have this.”

Ushijima reached past Hinata to grab the book off the high shelf without comment. Hinata didn’t move, barely realizing how close they stood.

They walked out of the shop side by side, unaware of the way Daichi and Sugawara watched with quiet pride.

Elsewhere, Yachi was sketching like a woman possessed.

“This is peak,” she whispered, hunched over her tablet. “Peak symbolism.”

She zoomed in on a bright orange chibi crow flying beside a chibi eagle with a serious face. Their wings overlapped midair. The eagle’s wing was slightly extended — like it was shielding the smaller bird from the wind.

Yachi screencapped it and messaged it to Kyoko with the caption: Is this not UshiHina??

She giggled and added sparkles.

Later that evening, with their bags full, Ushijima walked Hinata to his front door.

“Do you want to come in?” Hinata asked, half-joking, half-nervous.

“If I wouldn’t be intruding.”

Hinata hesitated. “You brought snacks. That kind of makes you family already.”

Ushijima blinked. Then nodded.

Hinata’s mom was surprised but kind. She took the matcha dango with a small, startled laugh. “You didn’t have to do that,” she said. “But thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Ushijima said with a slight bow. “It’s good to meet you.”

Natsu tore into her snack bag with glee. “Shouyou, he’s cool! You never bring anyone over!”

Hinata flushed. “We’re just—teammates. Sort of.”

Ushijima didn’t correct him. But he didn’t agree, either.

They stayed for tea. Hinata’s mom chatted warmly, and Ushijima answered every question with calm honesty. He was reserved, but not cold. And when it came time to leave, she said, “Come again anytime.”

Outside, Hinata walked him to the gate. The evening had turned gold with soft shadows.

“Thanks for… all of it,” Hinata said, hand lingering on the strap of his bag.

Ushijima looked at him. “You’re important to me,” he said.

Hinata’s breath caught.

He didn’t say anything else. He didn’t need to.

End Notes:

This chapter blossomed into something deeper: tenderness that can’t quite name itself yet. From quiet mall sightings to chibi fanart, to the nerve-wracking grace of meeting Hinata’s mom, this is what it looks like when two people don’t say what they feel—but start living like they do. Next: Kageyama’s return and a sharp shift in the air.

Chapter Text

The air in the Sendai gym was crisp that afternoon, carrying the scent of resin and faint sweat, but there was an undeniable charge to it now—a current threading through every spike and block and glance. Practice had just started when the door creaked open, hinges catching slightly, and a familiar silhouette crossed the threshold.

Hinata’s breath hitched.

Kageyama.

There was no mistaking that posture: rigid spine, eyes like sharpened cobalt, bag slung over one shoulder. He hadn’t changed, and yet—he had. There was something colder about his presence now. More distant. Maybe it was the blue of the new tracksuit, or the weight of the V-League team name stitched into the sleeve.

Semi caught the shift first. His serve faltered mid-toss, letting the ball fall harmlessly to the court. “That him?” he asked under his breath, sidling up to Tendou and Shirabu.

“Yep. That’s the setter,” Tendou replied, tilting his head. “You’d think someone dropped a lightning bolt in here. Look at them.” He pointed subtly toward Hinata and Ushijima.

Hinata’s smile flickered but didn’t quite hold. “Kageyama! You’re back early—didn’t think you’d make it to this week’s practice block!”

Kageyama’s eyes didn’t soften. “They ended camp early. I figured I’d come see how rusty you’ve gotten.”

Hinata laughed, but it rang a little off-key.

Ushijima stepped in then, calm and solid beside Hinata. “We’ve been working on hybrid timing. Hinata has improved significantly.”

Kageyama’s gaze shifted to Ushijima, unreadable. “Oh.”

It was only one syllable, but it was loaded. It was the kind of oh that carried old frustrations and something else—possessiveness, maybe. Not romantic, but territorial. Competitive. Hungry.

Shirabu rolled a ball toward them, cutting the tension. “We’re running drills. You jumping in?”

Kageyama nodded, dropping his bag with a thunk. “Yeah.”

The next few hours blurred together in a flurry of motion. Tosses flew, feet slapped the court, and voices rang through the rafters. But everyone could feel it: the rhythm had changed. Kageyama didn’t slot in seamlessly the way he once had—not here, not now. His tosses were perfect, yes, but clinical. Calculated. They lacked the instinctive flow Hinata had started to build with Ushijima and the others.

And Hinata noticed. He tried to adjust, to match Kageyama’s rhythm like he used to. But every time he did, something in his chest tugged. Like it didn’t fit anymore.

Ushijima, too, noticed. After one drill, he approached Hinata, his tone low but direct. “You’re hesitating.”

Hinata winced. “Yeah. I just—old habits, I guess.”

“You don’t need to adjust to him,” Ushijima said. “He should adjust to you.”

Hinata blinked. “That’s… not how it’s ever worked before.”

“Maybe it should be,” Ushijima replied simply.

Tendou, standing just within earshot, looked between the two of them and smirked. “Is it hot in here or is it just all this emotional development?”

Semi elbowed him hard. “Shut up.”

Later that evening, the team headed to a nearby ramen shop. It was one of those cheap, half-cracked neon joints with formica tables and little booths that barely seated two people comfortably—but they always ended up here. It was tradition.

Hinata and Ushijima sat across from each other, while Tendou sprawled sideways in his chair, legs kicking Shirabu under the table. Kageyama lingered by the entrance before eventually sliding in next to Hinata. The air between them was taut, like a string stretched too tight.

“You’re different,” Kageyama said suddenly, eyes fixed on his bowl. “The way you jump now. It’s… lighter.”

Hinata chewed his noodles slowly. “I’ve been training with Wakatoshi-san. He’s been helping me read blockers better. Adjust my timing.”

Kageyama stiffened at the name. “Since when do you call him that?”

Ushijima spoke before Hinata could. “Since we began working together. We’re teammates now.”

“We were teammates too,” Kageyama muttered. His voice was low but cutting.

“I haven’t forgotten that,” Hinata said quietly. “But this is different. I’m trying to grow.”

“And you couldn’t do that with me?”

Hinata looked up, eyes bright but no longer uncertain. “No. Not like this.”

Kageyama leaned back. For once, he had no rebuttal.

The silence held until Tendou broke it with a loud slurp. “Whew. So, anyone else feel like we should start a team drama channel? This is premium content.”

Shirabu groaned. “Why do we let you come to things?”

“Because I bring flavor,” Tendou grinned.

“More like chaos,” Semi muttered.

But despite the quips, there was something solidifying in the group that night—a shifting alignment. Where once Hinata had orbited Kageyama, bright and relentless, he now moved differently. With gravity of his own. And the others—yes, even Shirabu—had begun to see it too.

That night, after they’d all split ways, Ushijima and Hinata lingered outside the shop under a flickering streetlight. The scent of broth still clung to their clothes.

Hinata stared up at the sky. “He’s still amazing, you know. Kageyama. His tosses are faster than ever.”

“You don’t have to prove anything to him.”

“I know. But… he was the first person who really saw me. Believed in me. It’s weird. I’m not used to being the one moving on.”

Ushijima considered him for a moment. “You’ve grown. It’s natural to outgrow people. Even ones who mattered.”

Hinata gave a half-smile. “You think so?”

“I know so.”

They stood like that for a moment, silent but not uncomfortable. Then Ushijima added, “You didn’t flinch when he spoke to you. That’s strength.”

Hinata looked up at him then, heart skipping a beat at the quiet praise. “Maybe that’s because I’ve got people like you around now.”

Ushijima’s expression softened—barely, but it was there. A faint curve of his lips. “I’m glad.”

And in that stillness, beneath the humming buzz of the light above them, Hinata felt it—that shift again. Not a tremor this time, but something steady. Something warm.

A fault line, yes. But one that was beginning to bloom.

Hinata had never really thought of himself as someone who grew in cracks. He was a sun-chaser by nature—always looking up, always in motion, like growth could only come with speed and open skies.

But lately… things had shifted.

Growth wasn’t just height and verticals. It was patience. It was recalibration. It was being seen, not for what he could be someday, but for what he already was.

That feeling was new.

That feeling came when he was around Wakatoshi. 

Not always in words. In fact, rarely in words. But in how he listened. In how he passed water bottles without being asked. In how he adjusted his blocking style not to control Hinata, but to meet him where he was going.

It was strange, really. If someone had told him a year ago that he’d feel the most stable—not with Kageyama, not with Bokuto or Atsumu, but Ushijima—he’d have laughed.

Now, it felt like the truest thing in the world.

They walked together in silence for another stretch. Ushijima wasn’t one to fill the quiet unnecessarily, and Hinata found he liked that. He didn’t have to perform. He didn’t have to outshine the quiet just to feel worthy of it.

He could just be.

Finally, Hinata said softly, “Do you ever feel like you’ve stepped into your own life, like… just recently?”

Ushijima considered that. “I have always followed the path I believed in. But sometimes… yes. There are moments where I realize I’m not walking the same way I used to.”

Hinata nodded. “Yeah. I think that’s what this is.”

They passed a row of cherry blossom trees, not quite in full bloom yet, but full of promise. Small petals drifted on the wind, fragile and unapologetic.

Hinata looked up at them, slowing his pace. “When I was younger, I thought blooming meant winning. Being the best. Getting the spike down before the block could catch up.”

“And now?” Ushijima asked.

“Now I think it means being unafraid to be seen.”

Ushijima stopped walking.

Hinata turned to look at him, surprised.

“I hope you know,” Ushijima said, voice steady, “that I see you. Not just your plays. Not just the talent. But you.”

Something caught in Hinata’s chest.

“I didn’t always feel that before,” he admitted.

“I know.”

Another gust of wind swept by, stirring the petals. Hinata stepped closer without thinking, just a few inches. Close enough to feel the warmth radiating off Ushijima’s arm.

“Hey,” Hinata said, voice a little quieter, a little braver. “Can I ask something dumb?”

“It’s not dumb if it’s honest.”

Hinata smiled at that. “Do you ever wonder if something’s starting before you realize it?”

Ushijima didn’t look away. “Yes. Often.”

Hinata swallowed, heart suddenly loud in his ears. “And what do you do when that happens?”

“I choose to stay,” Ushijima said. “And let it grow.”

Hinata’s eyes widened just a little.

And he didn’t say thank you, or me too, or I’m scared—even though all three truths swirled in his chest.

He just smiled. Quiet. Real.

The moonlight caught his eyelashes, and his fingers flexed briefly at his side, like he almost reached out—but not yet. Not yet.

Some things didn’t need to rush.

They walked on, the silence soft now, full of breath and unsaid futures.

Behind them, the petals fell.

Ahead of them, the fault line bloomed.

Chapter Text

The gym echoed with the dull rhythm of bouncing volleyballs, whistles, and sneaker squeaks—an easy chaos. But beneath the surface, the tension from the night before hadn’t faded.

If anything, it had crystallized.

Kageyama had arrived early. Already warmed up. Already waiting.

Tendou whispered to Shirabu from the sidelines, “He’s not here to play nice. You can see it.”

Shirabu narrowed his eyes toward the court. “He’s been eyeing Ushijima like he wants to spike him out of existence.”

“I’d pay good money to see that,” Semi muttered. “But also—maybe not with Hinata caught in the crossfire.”

Hinata jogged into the gym with a water bottle in hand, smiling out of habit, but his shoulders were taut, eyes darting between the net and the players gathered. Ushijima was already there, stretching calmly. Their eyes met. Hinata relaxed—slightly.

Coach had arranged an open scrimmage between teams mixed from both local alumni and current university players. Nothing was on the line officially. But everyone felt the undercurrent.

Especially when Kageyama approached the clipboard and scribbled himself onto the opposite team—right across from Hinata and Ushijima.

“You don’t mind, do you?” he asked, but he was already smirking. “Might be good for you to see what real pressure looks like again.”

Ushijima stepped forward before Hinata could speak. “We welcome the challenge.”

Kageyama’s grin didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Good.”

The whistle blew. The game began.

And Kageyama was merciless.

He set blistering quicks to a 6'4" opposite, tight-angle lobs to the wing, and once—a deliberate short toss that Hinata barely saved with a dive that scraped his elbow against the floor.

“You okay?” Ushijima asked as he helped him up.

Hinata nodded, panting. “He’s doing this on purpose. Testing me.”

“He’s not the only one being tested,” Ushijima said simply.

Hinata blinked.

The next rally, Ushijima’s serve was a cannon—low, spinning, and vicious. Kageyama received it cleanly, but the expression he wore afterward—eyebrows drawn, lips tight—said everything. Ushijima had returned fire.

And then the real game began.

Kageyama was fast, relentless. But Ushijima was unshakable, a wall of raw power and cool intensity. Their presence on opposite sides of the net turned each rally into a battle of wills, an undercurrent of dominance cloaked in textbook volleyball.

Hinata, caught between them, had never felt so seen—and so torn.

In the third set, Kageyama set a low-speed toss across the net. It should’ve been an easy point. A decoy. But Hinata read it.

He exploded off the floor, perfect timing, and hammered the ball down before Kageyama’s middle could close the block.

The gym went still for half a second.

Ushijima let out a rare, sharp exhale. “That was good.”

Kageyama’s expression twisted. “Lucky guess?”

Hinata grinned—sweaty, breathless, but proud. “Nope. Read the court.”

Kageyama’s face darkened, but he said nothing. The next serve was harder. Angrier.

Between sets, Hinata slumped to the floor beside Ushijima, guzzling water. “He’s pushing everything. I feel like I’m seventeen again.”

“You’re not,” Ushijima said, handing him a towel. “You’re stronger now. He sees that.”

“Yeah, and he’s furious about it.”

Ushijima was quiet for a moment. “He’s not angry that you’ve changed. He’s angry he didn’t get to be part of the change.”

Hinata turned slowly to look at him.

“You’ve outgrown the rhythm you had with him,” Ushijima said. “You’ve made a new one—with us. With me.”

Hinata’s heart thudded. It was a quiet declaration, but it landed like a spike to the chest.

“Waka—” he started, but Tendou’s shout interrupted them.

“HEY! Lovebirds! Back on the court!”

They stood, side by side. And as they did, Hinata caught Kageyama watching them—something sharp and unfamiliar in his eyes.

Possession. Maybe even jealousy.

But Hinata didn’t flinch.

Final set. 24–24.

Tied.

Tension radiated from every corner of the gym.

The ball was in Hinata’s team’s court. Ushijima served—straight to Kageyama, as if in challenge. The receive was solid. A lightning-fast set to the right side—

—but the hitter miscalculated. Too long.

Point: Ushijima’s team.

Match point.

Tendou clapped slowly from the sideline. “This is getting juicy.”

Hinata rotated into the front. Ushijima stood behind him, ready.

The ball flew.

Shirabu’s serve clipped the net but stayed in. Kageyama dove. Clean receive. He flicked a no-look toss to the middle—one of his flashier tricks.

But Hinata had seen it coming.

He moved like instinct, like breath, intercepting the path. His block was small, but he timed the jump perfectly.

Thump.

The ball landed at Kageyama’s feet.

Silence.

Then Tendou screamed, “BLOCKED BY THE BEE!! HINATA, YOU TINY ANGEL OF DOOM!!”

Hinata landed hard, heart racing, hands still trembling from the contact.

Kageyama stared.

Ushijima crossed the court, stopping beside Hinata. He didn’t touch him—too many eyes—but his voice was low and firm.

“You’ve surpassed him.”

Hinata looked down at his palms. “I didn’t mean to.”

Ushijima looked at him. “Yes, you did. And that’s okay.”

Across the court, Kageyama picked up the ball slowly. His expression was unreadable.

But something had changed. A shift in gravity. The tectonic plates had moved.

And Hinata… wasn’t on the same one anymore.

He stood still for a breath longer than necessary, sweat clinging to his neck, his chest rising and falling in sharp, victorious bursts.

It wasn’t just the adrenaline, or the sound of Tendou cackling from the sidelines, or even the stunned look on Kageyama’s face. It was something tectonic—something undeniable.

The game had ended, but it felt like something else had cracked open beneath it.

The line between who he used to be and who he was becoming.

The version of himself who looked to Kageyama like a sunflowers did the sun—always chasing, never quite catching up—was fading. And in his place stood someone taller, more rooted. Someone who no longer needed permission to bloom.

Someone who could stand shoulder to shoulder with Ushijima Wakatoshi.

He turned slightly, eyes sweeping across the court, and met Kageyama’s gaze.

For a moment, neither moved.

And then Kageyama broke eye contact first.

That had never happened before.

Hinata swallowed, hard. The guilt nipped at the edge of the moment—he had loved being Kageyama’s partner, their timing a miracle, their trust something forged through battle and sweat. But something had broken since then. Maybe distance, maybe time. Maybe growth. Or maybe the simple truth that people don’t always grow in the same direction.

“Hinata.”

The voice pulled him back.

Ushijima was beside him again—close, always close. He hadn’t said much during the game, but he’d been there, the same way he always was. Solid. Constant. Not chasing glory, just supporting it.

Hinata turned to him slowly. “Yeah?”

Ushijima didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at him with that steady gaze, like he was memorizing the sight of Hinata like this—flushed from exertion, wide-eyed, a little breathless, standing on the edge of something vast.

“You moved like you were free today.”

Hinata blinked. “Free?”

Ushijima nodded. “You didn’t follow anyone else’s rhythm. You made your own. You led.”

Hinata looked down at his hands, still faintly tingling from the last block. “It felt… right.”

Ushijima gave the barest of smiles. “Then it is.”

There was a silence, but not a heavy one. Just full.

The others were gathering by the benches now, grabbing water, chattering in bursts of post-game laughter and relief. But Kageyama was still standing by the net, unmoving, his hands gripping the ball too tightly.

Tendou caught the scene from the sidelines, mouth quirking. “Oooh boy,” he murmured to Shirabu, “that’s the look of a man who’s realizing he’s no longer the main character in someone else’s coming-of-age arc.”

Shirabu rolled his eyes. “You’re so dramatic.”

“I am the drama.”

Kageyama finally crossed the court. Hinata braced himself, towel looped over his neck.

He half-expected anger. Or resentment. Maybe even a challenge.

But what he got was quieter—and more devastating.

Kageyama stopped in front of him and said, voice low and clipped, “You’ve changed.”

Hinata didn’t look away. “I had to.”

Kageyama’s jaw flexed. “I didn’t think… I thought we’d always—”

“We were always going to be important to each other,” Hinata interrupted gently. “But that doesn’t mean we were meant to stay the same.”

A beat.

Kageyama’s eyes flicked to Ushijima, standing just behind Hinata, silent and unmoving.

Something flickered across his face.

“I don’t know if I like the new version of you,” he muttered.

Hinata’s smile was small, but not unkind. “That’s okay. I do.”

And this time—when Hinata turned and walked away first—Kageyama let him.

The locker room was quiet.

Hinata sat on the bench, legs still aching, staring down at the little cut on his elbow. He hadn’t even noticed it until now—just a thin scrape from the dive earlier, but it stung in the cool air.

Ushijima sat beside him, silent as always. Not prying. Not crowding.

Just there.

Hinata finally broke the quiet. “I think that was the last time I’ll ever really try to prove something to him.”

Ushijima nodded slowly. “That’s a good thing.”

Hinata leaned forward, arms draped over his knees. “I used to think that partnership was the best thing I’d ever have. That I had to keep chasing it forever.”

“You don’t need to chase anyone anymore.”

Hinata looked at him. “Not even you?”

Ushijima didn’t smile, not quite. But there was a softness in his voice when he said, “I’m not running.”

Hinata’s chest pulled tight. His hands gripped the towel in his lap. He didn’t say anything for a long moment.

Then:

“Waka…”

The name hung in the air between them, not quite casual, not quite intimate. Just real.

Ushijima turned toward him. “Yes?”

Hinata glanced down at his hands, then back up—eyes wide and bright and a little uncertain. “Will you stay? For… all this? Even if I change more?”

Ushijima’s response was instant.

“Yes.”

And that was enough—for now.

But something had begun.

Not a spike. Not a game.

Something slower. Deeper.

A set still in motion.

Chapter Text

Tendou said it best—too loudly, as always.

“So. That was not just a practice match. That was a full-blown seismic event. I need time. I need tea. I need a post-game therapy circle.”

Shirabu, peeling off his sweaty jersey, rolled his eyes. “You always need tea.”

Semi leaned against the lockers, watching Kageyama quietly pack his bag from the other side of the room. “He’s not sticking around?”

“Nope,” Tendou said. “Bolt straight out of the gym after changing. Didn’t even grab snacks. That’s how you know the ego got bruised.”

The usual locker room buzz felt different today. Uneven. Something in the rhythm had been thrown off—not by anger, not even by tension. Just change. And no one really knew what to say about it.

Except Tendou. Always Tendou.

He flopped onto the bench between Shirabu and Semi and dramatically pointed at Hinata across the aisle. “You, sunshine boy. You’re officially dangerous now.”

Hinata blinked. “Huh?”

“You’re not the underdog anymore. You’re the shockwave. I hope you know that.”

Hinata flushed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not like I meant to—”

“Oh, please. You blocked the King and then stared him down like you were ascending the throne. If I hadn’t been watching with my own eyes, I’d say it was fanfiction.”

Ushijima, standing beside Hinata, spoke calmly. “He earned it.”

Tendou raised both hands. “Oh, I agree. Just saying. This era of Hinata is gonna break hearts.”

Hinata gave a small laugh, but he didn’t deny it.

Not this time.

The evening air was cooler than expected when Hinata stepped outside the gym. His limbs still hummed from exertion, and his mind wouldn’t settle. The match played again and again behind his eyes—Kageyama’s expression, the block, Ushijima’s voice saying you’ve surpassed him.

He didn’t know what to do with all that. Not yet.

He found Ushijima waiting by the bike racks, looking up at the moon.

“Hey,” Hinata said softly, walking up.

Ushijima turned. “You didn’t come out right away.”

“Needed a second. Too many thoughts in my head.”

“Understandable.”

They started walking—no destination, just movement.

The sidewalk was uneven in places, little cracks in the pavement like fault lines underfoot.

Hinata spoke after a few paces. “He’s mad at me. Kageyama.”

Ushijima didn’t respond right away. Then, “He’ll need time. You left his rhythm, and he doesn’t know how to play without it.”

Hinata let out a long breath. “It’s weird. I feel… guilty. But also right. Like, for the first time, I’m not just reacting to people anymore.”

Ushijima stopped walking. Hinata slowed beside him.

“Then why does it feel like you’re waiting for permission to say that’s okay?” Ushijima asked.

Hinata blinked. “I—I don’t know. Habit?”

Ushijima looked at him directly, not intense, just present. “You don’t need anyone’s permission to grow. Least of all mine.”

Something in Hinata’s chest cracked open.

“But it matters to me,” he said quietly. “You matter.”

The silence after that wasn’t uncomfortable. Just thick with unsaid things.

Ushijima tilted his head slightly. “To me as well. You matter.”

Hinata looked down at the sidewalk, then up again. “Do you think I’m changing too fast?”

“No,” Ushijima said. “I think… you were always going to be this person. You just needed space to become him.”

Hinata took a shaky breath. “You make me feel like I don’t have to shrink.”

“You never should have.”

Hinata’s voice was smaller when he said, “Even when I’m loud? Or complicated? Or... not sure of what I want?”

Ushijima took a step closer. “Even then.”

There was a pause, and then—barely audible—Hinata asked, “Do you think I’m selfish? For letting go of him like that?”

“No,” Ushijima said, without hesitation.

“Selfishness isn’t growing when you’re meant to. It’s refusing to.”

Hinata smiled then—soft and tired and a little heartbroken, but lighter. “I don’t want to hurt people. But I don’t want to disappear just to make them comfortable either.”

Ushijima looked at him for a long moment. “You won’t disappear. Not to me.”

Hinata’s eyes shone a little in the streetlight.

The quiet between them changed, subtly. Became fuller. Not confessional, not dramatic. Just open.

And maybe that was what Hinata needed more than anything: not someone to catch him, but someone to walk beside him as he figured out how to land.

They kept walking. Not touching. Not yet. But the space between them was something new now. Fragile. Promising.

Something neither of them wanted to break.

They walked for a few minutes more in easy silence. The city lights buzzed softly in the distance, casting long shadows over sidewalks and chain-link fences. The buzz of the scrimmage had faded into the air like heat after lightning, but its effect still echoed in their bones.

Ushijima’s presence beside him had shifted—not just comforting now, but tethering. And Hinata wasn’t used to being held steady. He was always the one leaping ahead, breaking into motion, searching for momentum.

But with Wakatoshi… he didn’t feel the need to move so fast. He didn’t feel like he’d be left behind if he slowed down.

Hinata rubbed the back of his neck, fingers brushing sweat-damp hair. “Do you remember when we first played against each other at Nationals?”

Ushijima nodded. “Of course. Your energy was…” He paused, looking for the word. “Relentless.”

Hinata laughed, a small, sheepish noise. “I didn’t even know what I was doing most of the time. I just wanted to win so badly.”

“You did well,” Ushijima said simply. “You were smaller, but you never hesitated.”

“I think I was scared,” Hinata admitted, voice quieter. “But not of you. Of being invisible again. Of not mattering.”

Ushijima didn’t respond immediately, but his steps slowed. “You’ve never been invisible to me.”

Hinata glanced up, startled. “You… remember me? From then?”

“I remembered how you jumped,” Ushijima said. “You weren’t afraid of the air. Most people are. Even strong ones.”

Hinata’s throat went dry for a second. There was something about the way he said it—like it mattered, like it was rare.

Like it meant something.

“I think that was the first time I realized I didn’t want to be like everyone else,” Hinata murmured. “I didn’t want to just be fast or flashy. I wanted to be unignorable.”

“You are,” Ushijima said, without hesitation.

Hinata smiled softly. “You always say things like that.”

“Only when they’re true.”

They reached a small bridge that crossed over a narrow stream—a part of the park neither of them had meant to arrive at, but didn’t mind stumbling into. The quiet here was different. Not the silence of absence, but of privacy. Of pause.

Hinata leaned over the railing, arms folded as he looked down at the water below. “Do you think Kageyama hates me now?”

“No,” Ushijima said. “But he’s lost something. You were a constant. And now you’re not his anymore.”

Hinata swallowed. “Was I ever?”

Ushijima didn’t answer that.

Instead, he stepped a little closer, his shoulder brushing Hinata’s lightly.

Not an accident. Not a statement. Just presence.

Hinata didn’t move away.

“I used to think being someone’s partner meant giving everything,” Hinata whispered. “But now I think… maybe the best partnerships are the ones that let you keep yourself, too.”

Ushijima looked out over the water, then turned his head just slightly. “I don’t want to take anything from you. I just want to know you.”

Hinata looked at him—really looked—and felt his chest tighten. He didn’t know if this was what falling for someone felt like, but it was the closest he’d ever come to something growing in real time, quiet and persistent like roots under earth.

He turned toward him slowly, shoulder to shoulder now. “Then… what if I let you?”

Ushijima’s brow furrowed slightly, as though confused by the simplicity of the offer—but his voice was steady. “I would be honored.”

Hinata felt something flutter—nervous, expectant—but it didn’t feel like fear. It felt like something breaking open again. Gently. Carefully.

He nudged Ushijima’s arm with his elbow. “You’re kind of weird, you know that?”

“I’ve been told,” Ushijima said, almost fond.

“And serious.”

“I take what matters seriously.”

Hinata looked at him for a beat too long.

Then he nodded and pushed off the railing. “Walk me back?”

“Of course.”

They didn’t touch again. Not that night.

But their shadows moved close across the sidewalk, long and parallel.

A distance easily crossed—when the time came.

Chapter Text

The gym was still wrapped in half-light when Hinata stepped inside. It was early—barely 6 a.m.—and the usual buzz of activity hadn't started yet. No whistles. No yelling. No balls echoing off hardwood. Just the soft creak of the door and the low hum of fluorescent lights warming to life.

He spotted him immediately.

Ushijima was at the far end of the court, already stretching, methodical and grounded in a way that made time feel slower around him. He hadn't noticed Hinata yet—his back to the door, arms raised in a deep shoulder stretch.

Hinata watched him for a moment longer than he meant to. There was something about Wakatoshi in these quiet moments that undid him a little. He wasn’t just imposing or powerful. He was calm. Still. Like the earth before something grew.

Hinata walked across the floor barefoot, his shoes slung loosely in one hand. “Hey.”

Ushijima turned slightly, enough to meet his eyes. “Good morning.”

“You always get here this early?”

“I prefer to warm up in silence,” he said. “It’s easier to focus.”

Hinata dropped his shoes and gave a small grin. “Guess I’m ruining that now, huh?”

“You’re not,” Ushijima said, and it was quiet but firm. “I don’t mind you being here.”

Hinata blinked, then smiled a little wider. “Good.”

They started slowly, passing drills, muscle memory, light footwork. Their conversation was minimal—short phrases, gentle corrections, a few chuckles when Hinata tripped over his own feet doing cross steps too fast.

But mostly, they just moved.

And gradually, the gym filled with their rhythm.

The toss and set. The quick breath before a jump. The soft thud of landing. All of it became a language, unspoken but fluent.

There was a moment—brief, but heavy—where Ushijima tossed a slow ball high and Hinata soared, catching it clean. Not the kind of explosive, chaotic jump he was known for. This one was measured. Balanced. He floated in sync with the arc, and when he landed, Ushijima caught the ball one-handed, gaze never leaving Hinata’s.

They didn’t say anything.

They didn’t need to.

Later, they sat side by side on the court floor, chugging water, sweat sticking their shirts to their backs.

Hinata let out a long breath. “You know what’s weird?”

“What?”

“This feels easier than it ever did with anyone else. Like, I don’t have to explain every move I make. You just… know. Or let me try.”

Ushijima nodded. “You trust yourself more now. That makes it easier for others to trust you, too.”

Hinata stared at the floor, then up at him. “You’ve been doing that since the start, haven’t you? Trusting me?”

Ushijima didn’t look away. “Yes.”

Hinata’s heart fluttered unexpectedly. Not the kind of excitement he got from spiking, but something quieter. Like something settling.

He stood slowly, stretching his arms over his head. “Wanna run the hybrid combo again?”

Ushijima got to his feet with a nod.

They returned to the court—just the two of them, a net, and the kind of light that only came early in the day. They practiced, again and again, refining not for perfection but for understanding. Hinata adjusted midair. Ushijima timed his sets to Hinata’s steps, not the other way around.

They were no longer adapting to each other. They were learning how to meet in the middle.

It wasn’t fast. It wasn’t flashy.

It was intimate.

They finished just as the sun began filtering fully through the high windows. Hinata was sweaty and flushed, a little breathless, leaning against the wall near the storage rack while Ushijima placed the last practice ball back into its bin.

Something about the way Ushijima moved—steady, patient, and unaware of how comforting his presence had become—made Hinata’s throat tighten.

Maybe it was the morning light. Maybe it was the quiet. Maybe it was that last rally where they landed at the same time, perfectly aligned, not a word exchanged.

Hinata didn’t even think.

He stepped forward.

And wrapped his arms around Ushijima from behind.

Not tightly. Not dramatically.

Just enough.

His cheek pressed lightly between Ushijima’s shoulder blades, warm fabric soft against his skin. He could feel the rhythm of Wakatoshi’s breath under his palm. Steady. Surprised—but not stiff.

Ushijima froze for half a second.

Then—he relaxed.

Didn’t ask why.

Didn’t pull away.

Didn’t move at all.

Just let Hinata be there, arms around him, heart thudding against his spine.

“I don’t know what this is,” Hinata whispered, barely audible. “But it feels… safe.”

Ushijima said nothing. But one of his hands reached up and gently, just briefly, touched Hinata’s wrist. His thumb brushed against the inside of his arm. Warm. Wordless.

I’m here, it said.

It’s okay.

And they stayed like that, in the quiet hum of the gym, while the rest of the world waited to catch up.

Hinata's arms circled tighter around Ushijima’s waist, his cheek pressed against the warm, sweat-damp fabric of his shirt. The older boy didn’t flinch or shift—just stood there, like a mountain patient with the wind.

"You're warm," Hinata mumbled, voice muffled. "And steady. Like one of those sun-warmed rocks by the river."

Ushijima blinked. "...Is that a compliment?"

Hinata grinned against his back. "Of course it is."

They stayed there, swaying gently on their feet, as if the gym had shrunk down to the space between them. The volleyballs, the practice notes, the heavy thud of past matches—they all melted into the polished wood floor. There was just the heartbeat in Hinata’s chest, the solid comfort of Ushijima’s presence, and the tiny breath-hitch when the taller boy hesitantly rested his hands over Hinata’s where they clasped at his stomach.

Then—

"Ahem."

The sound of the gym doors creaking open didn’t stop them.

It was the double sound of it—that sharp exhale of an unimpressed adult and the low, barely stifled laugh of someone very familiar with awkward timing—that made Hinata finally pop his head up.

Coach Washijou stood at the entrance with a clipboard in hand, eyebrows raised so high they nearly reached his receding hairline.

Next to him, Reon had the decency to look like he was trying not to smile.

“…Is this part of your stretching routine, Wakatoshi?” Washijou asked, his voice completely dry.

Hinata's face flushed an impressive shade of red, and he immediately unlatched himself like a startled cat. “Ah! Uh, n-no, Coach! We were—just finishing up practice!”

Ushijima blinked again, eyes calm. “Hinata was hugging me.”

Washijou closed his eyes and muttered something suspiciously like a prayer.

Reon finally chuckled. “Well, I’d say that’s a successful bonding exercise, at least.”

Hinata hid his face behind his hands. “I-I’ll go wipe the court!”

Washijou waved him off with a sigh. “Just don’t knock over the water cooler again.”

Ushijima turned to watch Hinata scamper off and then looked back at his coach. “Is it strange?”

“What, hugging?” Reon asked.

Ushijima gave a short nod.

Washijou sighed again. “It’s not about strange. It’s about time and place. That was definitely… a place. Maybe not the time.”

“But it didn’t bother me,” Ushijima said.

“That’s not the point!” Washijou muttered, walking off toward the storage shed. “Just don’t turn this into a soap opera in my gym.”

Reon patted Ushijima’s shoulder. “Don’t mind him. Honestly, it’s kinda nice seeing you like this. Just try not to traumatize him with your honesty.”

“…Honesty is a good thing,” Ushijima said, almost to himself, before he turned to where Hinata was wiping the court in fast, embarrassed circles.

He walked over and knelt beside him.

Hinata looked up, wide-eyed. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to make it weird—”

“It wasn’t weird,” Ushijima said, placing a hand on his back. “You can hug me again if you want.”

Hinata choked on air. “T-Toshi!”

“Now?” Ushijima asked seriously.

“No, not now! Washijou’s still in the building! I’ll die!”

Ushijima tilted his head. “Then later?”

Hinata, still beet red, gave a single, furious nod and buried his face in the towel again.

From outside the gym doors came the unmistakable sound of someone dragging their feet and humming the Jaws theme, very off-key.

"Do you feel it?" Tendou's voice rang out dramatically before the doors even opened. "There’s been a disturbance in the wholesome force."

The doors swung open with a screech.

“Ah. I knew it,” he grinned, eyes locking onto the flushed figure of Hinata kneeling on the court next to Ushijima, both holding the same towel. “My shipping senses were right on time.”

“Don’t—” Hinata squeaked.

Behind Tendou, Shirabu entered, already rolling his eyes. “I’m not even surprised. I knew it was only a matter of time before someone got caught doing something stupidly affectionate in here.”

Semi followed close behind, shaking his head and tossing a gym bag onto the bench. “And it had to be you two.”

Ushijima stood up calmly and nodded toward the three of them. “We were hugging.”

Tendou clasped his chest like he'd been struck. “Ohhh, the boldness! Waka-chan, I’m so proud. Our boy’s growing emotional wings! Soon he’ll be flying straight into the warm, fluffy clouds of love—”

“I’m going to dissolve into the floor,” Hinata groaned, pulling the towel over his head.

Shirabu dropped his water bottle on the bench with a thud and crossed his arms. “You really hugged him? In here? While people could walk in?”

“It was spontaneous,” Ushijima said.

Semi gave an exasperated laugh and plopped onto the bench. “Honestly, that’s the most romantic thing I’ve heard you say.”

“He said I was like a sun-warmed rock,” Ushijima added.

Tendou wheezed. “OH MY GOD. Stop, I’m going to cry—this is better than any drama I’ve watched this month.”

Hinata peeked out from beneath the towel, still pink-faced. “It wasn’t that big of a deal…”

“Oh, it is now,” Semi said, grinning. “Tendou’s going to narrate this like it’s a saga.”

“Too late,” Tendou said, dramatically pretending to hold a mic. “In the sacred gym of Shiratorizawa… a moment of unspoken affection… the hug that shook the very earth—”

Ushijima turned to Hinata and asked quietly, “Did you like it?”

Hinata, stunned mid-laugh at Tendou's antics, blinked—and then smiled, bright and real and so full of fondness that even Shirabu looked like he had to glance away.

“…Yeah,” Hinata said softly. “I did.”

The teasing ebbed just slightly.

Tendou wiggled his fingers near his heart. “Okay but that? That was lethal. You two are going to destroy me with your gentle devastation.”

“We’re proud of you, Wakatoshi,” Semi said, smiling as he unzipped his hoodie. “And you too, Hinata. For… managing to catch the world’s most emotionally direct man.”

“Catching?” Shirabu scoffed, though his voice was lighter now. “It’s more like they’re orbiting each other until gravity does the rest.”

Tendou flung himself onto the floor mat with a dramatic sigh. “They’re already in their honeymoon phase and we’re just here, suffering.”

Hinata laughed at that—bubbly and real—and when he glanced up at Ushijima, there was a shimmer of quiet gratitude there. Not just for the hug. But for all of this. For being part of this. For not being alone.

Ushijima met his eyes and gave the smallest smile. “Let’s warm down.”

“You mean cool down,” Hinata teased.

Ushijima blinked. “But I’m not cold.”

Laughter rang through the gym again—warm, bright, utterly alive.

After practice wound down and the others filtered off to the showers or changed into their clean shirts, Hinata lingered by the court. The late afternoon sun slanted through the high windows of the gym, casting golden puddles on the wooden floor where sweat and laughter still echoed.

The towel was still warm in his hands.

He looked down at it, then at the patch of floor where he'd hugged Ushijima—unplanned, unfiltered, honest. It hadn’t been a joke. It hadn’t been something to hide. And even though Coach Washijou had looked like he aged ten years in five seconds, and Tendou had probably already made up a whole internal script for a fake volleyball-themed romance drama, Hinata didn’t regret it.

Not even a little.

He sat cross-legged on the court, the way he always had when no one was watching—only this time, someone had. Many someones. And they hadn’t told him to shrink or laugh at him or tell him to “be serious.” They'd just… stayed. And smiled. And teased, and clapped him on the back, and made him feel like this was his place, too.

Like he belonged on this court just as much as anyone.

His eyes drifted toward the far side of the gym, where Ushijima was filling up the water bottles at the spigot. Strong shoulders. Quiet patience. The way he had looked down at Hinata, completely unbothered by being hugged in the middle of practice—by being seen like that.

And then asked, so simply, if Hinata had liked it.

Did you like it?

Hinata let the words echo in his chest for a moment.

He did. He really, really did.

There was something steady in the way Ushijima saw him—like being understood without having to explain, without having to prove himself over and over again. Like the parts of Hinata he never knew how to shape into words could just exist quietly beside someone like that.

Hinata pressed the towel to his face again, grinning into the fabric.

The gym had fallen quiet around him, but it wasn’t the kind of quiet that came from loneliness.

It was the kind that came from peace.

And as he stood up to join the others, Hinata found himself thinking—not about points or spikes or plays—but about the way it had felt to rest his head against Ushijima’s back and not be afraid of what it meant.

Maybe this wasn’t just a team.

Maybe it was the start of something else, too.