Chapter Text
Morning air still clung to the gym’s high beams, sunlight filtering through the open doors as Karasuno’s second gym slowly filled with noise: laughter bouncing off the walls, volleyballs hitting the floor in rapid-fire rhythm. The first thing Daichi noticed when he stepped inside wasn’t the usual chaos.
It was the suspicious silence.
The second thing he noticed was that everyone, everyone, was already there, standing in a loose semicircle in the middle of the court. They were watching him.
Too quietly.
Daichi stopped in the doorway, gym bag slung over one shoulder. He raised an eyebrow. "What."
Suga stepped forward, arms crossed and smiling like he’d just coordinated a surprise attack. "Good morning, Captain."
"Morning," Daichi said slowly. "Why do you sound like you’re announcing something?"
Behind him, Yachi bounced slightly on her toes, eyes wide. Asahi gave him a tiny nod, like he was trying to offer support from behind enemy lines.
Then Hinata stepped forward.
He was holding a box. Carefully. Like it contained either a birthday cake or a baby owl.
"I’m so sorry I elbowed your phone into the next dimension!!" Hinata shouted, bowing so deeply it looked like he might tip forward completely. "It was an accident, I swear!"
"Hinata," Daichi started, blinking. "We already talked about this"
"I know, but I still felt bad! So we all did something about it!"
Tanaka puffed up beside him. "Team effort, baby."
"Mostly Yachi’s coordination," Suga added, nodding solemnly.
Daichi’s eyes drifted down to the box in Hinata’s hands. "What is that."
"It’s a replacement!" Hinata said brightly, stepping forward and presenting the box like it was a sacred offering. "We all chipped in!"
"You got me… a phone?" Daichi asked, stunned.
"Not the fanciest one," Nishinoya said from the side, "but it won’t explode if you breathe on it, so, upgrade!"
Asahi rubbed the back of his neck. "And we made sure it has a screen protector this time…"
"Because some people don’t understand spatial awareness," Kageyama muttered under his breath.
"Hey!" Hinata shot back. "I said I was sorry!"
Yamaguchi leaned toward Daichi with a sheepish smile. "It really was mostly Sugawara-senpai’s idea."
"And Yachi handled the logistics," Suga said proudly. "I just handled morale."
Daichi looked at the faces in front of him, Hinata practically vibrating with hope, Suga trying to look casual but clearly proud, Yachi beaming nervously, and the rest of the team hovering like they’d just handed over a baby bird and were waiting to see if it would fly.
For a moment, he didn’t say anything.
Then he smiled, wide, genuine, warm.
"You guys are ridiculous," he said, taking the box.
"But we’re your ridiculous," Suga replied.
Daichi let out a soft laugh. "Thanks. Really."
Tanaka whooped. "Okay! Now we can start practice!"
"No, now we can make Daichi text like a normal human again!" Nishinoya shouted.
"I wasn’t texting anyone," Daichi replied automatically.
"Sure," Suga said, raising an eyebrow. "No one at all. Definitely no mysterious captains from rival teams."
Daichi flushed slightly. "Drop it."
Suga winked.
Daichi opened the box slowly. The phone wasn’t flashy, just sleek and sturdy and brand new, the plastic screen protector still clinging to the front. His thumb hovered above the power button.
He glanced at his team again.
"Thanks," he said again, quieter this time. "Really."
He meant it with every inch of his chest.
ᨐ
A little later, Daichi sat on the gym bench near the wall, away from the bulk of the noise, the new phone box resting open on his lap. He turned the device over once in his hands, thumb brushing along the sleek back of it. It still had that factory-clean feel, smooth edges, perfectly centred logo, no wear, no history.
Not yet.
Beside him, Hinata crouched with his chin nearly on Daichi’s shoulder, eyes practically glowing.
"Okayokayokay," he whispered. "This is the good part. Turn it on. I wanna see the animation."
Daichi gave him a sideways look. "You know this isn’t a game console, right?"
"Yeah, but still, first boot-up! It’s like… the birth of a digital warrior."
"…What?"
"JUST PRESS IT."
Daichi rolled his eyes, but his smile gave him away. He pressed the power button.
The screen lit up in a burst of soft white, then faded to the brand’s startup animation, a glowing logo pulsing on a dark background. Hinata clutched his fists like he was watching fireworks.
"That’s so cool," he whispered.
"It’s literally the same animation every phone has."
"Yeah but it’s yours. Now."
Daichi chuckled. "You’re worse than Nishinoya and Tanaka right now."
The phone finally opened into its setup screen. Hinata practically started bouncing. "Okay so, language, Wi-Fi, log into your account, do you need help? Wait, do you want me to do it? I can totally!"
"Hinata," Daichi interrupted gently. "I’ve used a phone before."
"Oh. Right." Hinata gave him an apologetic grin. "Sorry. I’m just, this is really exciting. A phone rebirth!"
"You need to stop saying that."
"HINATA, GET OVER HERE!" Kageyama’s voice thundered across the gym.
Hinata’s entire body jolted like a firecracker. "I’m COMING!!"
And then he was gone, full sprint across the court, shouting back over his shoulder, "Tell me if the ringtone’s lame!!"
Daichi shook his head, chuckling softly. The gym returned to its usual semi-chaos: shoes squeaking, volleyballs thudding, voices yelling from every direction. No one else was paying him much attention now. It was just him and the phone.
He continued the setup process slowly, carefully. Then it buzzed in his hand.
The lock screen came up clean and simple. The background was just the default, he hadn’t had time to personalise anything yet. The battery icon blinked at half full. No apps installed. Nothing on it yet.
Except for one number he typed in manually.
Daichi tapped on the messages icon and opened a new thread. He looked at the name he’d saved: Kuroo Tetsurou.
No emoji this time. No nonsense. Just his name.
He stared at the empty text box.
Then, slowly, he typed:
Got a new phone. No elbow casualties so far.
He hovered for a second… then pressed send.
A light chime. One little line of text sitting in the thread.
And for some reason, Daichi found himself smiling again.
ᨐ
Kuroo had just stuffed his water bottle back into the side pocket of his bag when his phone buzzed on the bench.
He glanced at it instinctively, expecting a group message from Yaku or maybe an update from the student council rep about some dumb schedule conflict.
But it wasn’t either of those.
It was a single text.
From Daichi.
Kuroo’s brain did not short-circuit.
Nope. Not at all.
He was perfectly composed.
Except that he almost dropped the phone.
The screen blinked at him innocently, one message sitting there like it hadn’t just upended his whole nervous system:
[Sawamura Daichi]
Got a new phone. No elbow casualties so far.
Kuroo stared. Then reread it. Then snorted, too loud, too sudden.
Lev, sitting nearby tying his shoes, looked over. "What’s funny?"
"Nothing," Kuroo said, far too quickly.
Lev blinked. "But you laughed."
"Your face is funny."
"I’m gonna tell Yaku you said that."
"Go ahead," Kuroo muttered, still not looking up from his screen. "Maybe he’ll throw his shoe at you again."
Lev narrowed his eyes suspiciously but let it go.
Kuroo, meanwhile, reread the text again.
Simple. No emoji. No punctuation aside from the period.
But the message landed like a small meteor in his chest.
He couldn’t stop the grin that curled up before he even realised it was happening.
It wasn’t just that Daichi had texted him, it was how he’d done it. Dry. Playful. A perfect callback to their last conversation.
A part of Kuroo that had been pacing in a mental cage for several days finally sat down.
He took a breath. Leaned back on his hands. Let the moment settle.
He didn’t answer right away.
Not because he didn’t want to, he really did, but because he needed to pick the exact right words.
Nothing too eager. Nothing too cool.
Strike the right balance. Like a volleyball set with perfect lift and no spin.
Eventually, he typed:
Proud of you for surviving your first few hours. May your new phone know peace and avoid spiker crossfire.
Send.
The message whooshed away. Kuroo locked the screen and tossed the phone back in his bag.
He sat there a moment longer, the grin refusing to go anywhere, no matter how hard he tried to smother it.
Yaku, walking past a moment later, raised an eyebrow. "What’s with the face?"
Kuroo stretched. "What face?"
"You look like you just hit an especially satisfying block."
Kuroo shrugged. "Maybe I did."
Yaku squinted at him, but moved on.
Kuroo leaned back again, gazing up at the ceiling of the Nekoma gym.
One text.
And somehow, the day already felt better.
ᨐ