Summary: a lazy afternoon with your boyfriend where he lets you use him as your own personal colouring book.
CW (content warning): just pure tooth rotting fluff, Suna has tattoos based on Loony’s fanart.
AN: Hi guys! Here’s a shorter drabble while I’m working on finishing up a few other works hahahaha. Also I updated the list of characters I write for and added a couple of new ones. English isn’t my first language so I’m sorry if there’s any mistakes. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!
Requests are open so feel free to send yours! (you can check the list of characters I write for on my pinned post)
Masterlist
The first thing you noticed when you woke up was the weight of him.
Not heavy, not suffocating, but just enough to remind you that he was there. That even in sleep, Suna Rintarou always managed to find you, even if he started at the far end of the couch.
Your cheek was pressed into his chest, the fabric of his t-shirt warm and faintly smelling of laundry detergent and something distinctly him. His arm was slung loosely around your back, fingers resting idly against your spine, and one of his legs was tangled with yours, pinning you in place.
The TV hummed quietly across the room, the opening theme of some drama you hadn’t even been paying attention to anymore looping as the next episode auto-played.
It was one of those rare weekends where neither of you had anywhere to be, no practices, no meetings, no errands. You’d started the day meaning to clean up the apartment or maybe go out for lunch. But somehow you’d ended up here instead, half-buried under a throw blanket, curled together on the couch while afternoon sunlight streamed lazily through the curtains.
You didn’t even bother checking the time anymore. Suna made a soft noise , something like a sigh and you felt his chest rise and fall beneath you.
“You awake?” You murmured, your lips brushing his shirt.
A long pause. Then, he spoke, voice low and thick with sleep. “Mm. Barely.”
You smiled against him, feeling the vibration of his voice through his ribcage. “Wanna move? Or…?”
He cracked one eye open to glance at you, lids heavy, expression unreadable but fond in that quiet, understated way of his. “Why would I move when I’m already comfortable?”
“Fair point.”
You adjusted just enough to rest your chin on his chest, looking up at him. His hair was a little messy from his nap, falling into his eyes. You reached up to brush it away absently and caught sight of the ink curling down his forearm.
It wasn’t the first time you’d seen his tattoos, you’d watched him get a few of them over the past couple years but something about the way the light hit them now, black and intricate against his skin, made your fingers itch to trace them.
So you did.
Starting at his wrist, you let your fingertip follow the line of one design.
Suna glanced down at you, an eyebrow quirked lazily. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing.” You said, though your finger kept moving.
He snorted quietly, but didn’t stop you. Instead, he let his head fall back against the couch cushion, eyes fluttering shut again.
You took that as permission to continue.
The tattoos were beautiful and very him. A blend of sharp angles and flowing curves, subtle enough to peek out from under his sleeves without screaming for attention. You’d always thought they suited him: understated, intriguing, and a little mysterious.
“Did this one hurt?” You asked softly, dragging your fingertip over a section of geometric shapes that wrapped around his elbow.
“Not really.” He murmured.
You huffed a little laugh. “You always say that. ‘Not really.’”
He cracked an eye open again to smirk at you. “That’s because it didn’t.”
“Mmhm.” You poked at his bicep playfully. “Tough guy.”
“Exactly.”
Still, his arm twitched under your touch, not in discomfort, but more like it tickled.
You shifted so you were half-sitting now, legs folded beside him, and kept tracing higher, to where a delicate line of ink disappeared under the sleeve of his t-shirt.
He watched you silently for a moment, then tilted his head.
“What?” You asked, self-conscious under his gaze.
“Nothing.” He replied simply, closing his eyes again. “Just don’t stop.”
You felt your heart do a strange little flip at that, but you obeyed, dragging your fingers back down the inside of his forearm.
Then an idea struck you, one that made your lips curve into a mischievous smile.
“Hey, Rin.” You said, voice light.
“Mm?”
“Can I…” You hesitated, then continued, “…color them in?”
That earned you a pause. His eyes opened fully this time, sharp green-gold meeting yours.
“Color them?”
You held up a pack of pastel highlighters from the coffee table, left over from some studying you’d been doing earlier in the week. “Just temporarily. You know. Like a coloring book.”
Suna blinked at you.
Then, with the most blasé shrug in the world. “If it keeps you entertained, go ahead.”
You grinned, triumphant, and grabbed the markers.
He settled back against the cushions like nothing out of the ordinary was happening, one arm draped over his stomach, the other stretched out for you to work on.
And so you began.
It was slow, careful work and you were determined to do it justice. You started with the angular shapes near his wrist, filling them in with soft lavender. Then you chose a mint green for the swooping curves along his forearm, blending it where it met the black ink.
Suna glanced at you every now and then, but otherwise stayed quiet, letting the sounds of the TV and the faint scratch of marker on skin fill the room.
When you finished one section and moved on to another, you heard him murmur under his breath:
“You missed a spot.”
You froze, then laughed softly. “Oh, so you are paying attention.”
“Didn’t say I wasn’t.” He replied, eyes still half-lidded.
You continued diligently, switching colors and occasionally blowing gently on his skin when the marker threatened to smudge.
Somewhere along the way, the afternoon sun dipped lower, painting the room in warm golds and soft shadows.
By the time you leaned back, finally satisfied, his entire left arm was a pastel masterpiece, a muted rainbow of pinks and blues and greens nestled within the dark outlines of his tattoos.
“Done.” You announced, setting the markers down and admiring your work.
Suna lazily tilted his head to inspect his arm, eyes sliding over the colors.
“Cute.” He murmured finally.
“You mean impressive.” You corrected, grinning.
“That too.”
You started to shift away to grab your phone and snap a picture, but before you could fully pull back, his hand shot out and caught your wrist.
“Where are you going?” He asked, his tone still casual, but there was a faint, almost petulant edge to it.
You blinked down at him. “I was just- ”
“Don’t.”
His fingers wrapped around your wrist more firmly as he tugged you back down, and you found yourself settling against him again, your knees tucked beside his thigh.
“I’ve already finished your arm.” You pointed out, amused.
“Doesn’t mean you should stop.” He murmured, letting his eyes fall closed again.
Your chest ached with something soft and fond as you stared at him, this six-foot-something professional athlete, all sleepy-eyed and stubborn, asking you wordlessly not to move.
So you didn’t.
You picked up another marker and found a new section of ink on his shoulder, pretending not to notice the tiny smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
For a while, neither of you spoke. The only sounds were the quiet dialogue from the TV, the whisper of marker on skin, and the occasional sigh from him whenever you hit a particularly sensitive spot.
“You’re gonna make me fall asleep.” He murmured after a long stretch of silence.
“That’s fine.” You said.
“You’ll still color me in if I do?”
“Of course.”
“Good.”
You glanced up at him, at the way his lashes cast faint shadows on his cheeks, at the way his lips curved faintly even in repose, and felt that strange, quiet ache in your chest again.
“Rin.” You said softly.
“Mm?”
“You’re really spoiled, you know that?”
His mouth twitched, but he didn’t open his eyes. “You’re the one spoiling me.” He murmured, voice low and warm.
You flushed at that and ducked your head back down, focusing on the next section of his tattoo.
Minutes blurred into more minutes, and eventually the highlighters ran dry or faded out, leaving only a faint haze of color over his ink.
You finally capped the last marker and set it aside, brushing your thumb over the now rainbow-splashed designs.
“There.” You whispered. “Masterpiece complete.”
“Mm…” He hummed, eyes still closed.
“You’re not even gonna look at it, are you?” You teased, poking his side lightly.
“Doesn’t matter.” He replied, voice thick with drowsiness now. “Feels nice.”
You rolled your eyes affectionately but didn’t argue, leaning forward to press a quick kiss to the inside of his wrist.
When you tried to shift away again, this time to grab a drink, his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him before you could even get your feet on the floor.
You let out a surprised little laugh. “Rin- ”
“Mm-mm.” He murmured, eyes still closed. “Stay.”
“You’re clingy today.” You accused softly, though you were already settling back into him, your head resting against his shoulder.
“Not today.” He corrected, lips curving faintly. “Always.”
You went quiet at that, feeling your face grow warm as his fingers traced absent little circles on your side.
Neither of you spoke after that.
You let the quiet fill the room, let his warmth seep into you, let the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear lull you into that dreamy, content haze that only he could make you feel.
Eventually, his breathing evened out, and you felt him slip fully into sleep, his hold on you never loosening.
You stayed right where you were, your fingers still ghosting over the colorful patterns you’d drawn on his skin, and thought that maybe, just maybe, you could stay like this forever.
After all, Suna Rintarou had already decided he wasn’t letting you go anytime soon.
And honestly? You didn’t mind one bit.
Taglist is open so let me know if you want to be added for future works! :)
it was sunday. and that means, you’re at your boyfriend’s place for the weekend until monday morning.
waking up to the soft clicks of the keyboard and taps of his mouse, he murmured inaudible words to the screen.
“awh babe,” in a raspy groan, narrowing your eyes towards the unadjusted intensity the computer screen emitted, “it’s late…” you say as kenma spun to you wrapped in his covers as if you were a soon-to-be butterfly in its cocoon.
it’s no surprise that he is up late again, though. pulling all nighters are essentially nothing to him and then play video games for hours until the break of dawn was a mere everyday activity. he lifted up the earmuff of his headphones on one side to hear you better, “it’s six-thirty, sleepyhead. it's early.”
he corrected you like that was better. you took a glimpse at the digital anime girl clock on his nightstand to verify it was in fact, six thirty in the morning. squinting your sleepy eyes with a knowing frown, he leaned back in his gaming chair, gazing at the dimly lit arena of his game, that you can't quite figure out.
“did i wake you?”
you sat up against the bed, rubbing away the sleepiness from your eyes, “not really... are you coming back to bed soon?”
he shook his head autonomously, “probably not, i just got on not too long ago, why?”
“miss you,” even though he’s just a few feet away, you were craving his warmth. for whatever reason, his place was always alarming cold; the blanket was not a good warming aide, and kenma runs warm most nights.
“cold?”
“a little.”
he tugs off his headset, resting it beside the keyboard on the desk, “wanna sit in my lap while i play a few more rounds?”
he didn’t have to ask you twice once you unraveled yourself out the blanket, throwing it over your shoulders to fulfill this promise. sticking your legs through the arms of the chair, your arms hung over his shoulders while his arms around your torso.
“better?” he whispers to you enigmatically, reaching over for his controller, his hand resting on your lower back for a moment or two,
synopsis: yamaguchi works at the small ol’ bakery ran by a sweet old couple. even on his birthday he works, just to see you. his confession must happen soon.
The clock strikes eight and, like always, you walk into the bakery Yamaguchi works at right on schedule.
“Good morning, Yamaguchi!” you greet him.
Yamaguchi has worked at the bakery for nearly 7 months, and over these past few months you and him have become somewhat friends.
“Good morning! I take it you want your usual?” He greets you with a small smile as he starts ringing up your order. He’s always the one to serve you nowadays.
“Of course! Can’t break from routine now.” You take out your wallet to pay and hand your card over to Yamaguchi.
The contact is small, but the feeling of your fingers brushing against his always makes him blush like the strawberries on top of the shortcake.
“So, how have your classes been?” You ask him as he starts to get your order.
“Oh, the same. I still think my professor hates me but I really need that class so I’m trying to stay on his okay side.” He says as he pours you your drink of choice and places it on the counter for you.
“I’m convinced all my professors hate me too. Maybe we should become our own professors and plot against them!” You joke around and Yamaguchi joins you in laughing.
“You know, it’s not such a bad idea.”
Your food is packed into a to-go container and as quickly as you had come, you have to go already.—
“Thank you as always, Yama. I’ll drop by later, maybe we can talk more about overthrowing our evil professors!” You left with a laugh and Yamaguchi waved at you through the window.
He sighed as he watched you get in your car and drive off to school. The morning was always the best part of his workday.
Yamaguchi wasn’t even supposed to work today, being offered to stay home since it’s his birthday.
He’s only working because he wanted to see you. Today, he decided, would be the day he asked you out.
It took him weeks to work up the confidence of asking you out and he wasn’t about to have you be his biggest regret in life. He really likes you, and he has to take this shot.—
Yamaguchi waited until you came back so he could take his break. This was always the routine between you guys.
You came twice a day, once before classes and the other after your classes. After classes always meant some time to actually hang out, and this slotted time somehow morphed into Yamaguchi’s break.
“Yama! Classes are finally over, they really dragged on today. I’m totally thinking about that whole ‘attack our professors’ thing now.” You yap on immediately as you step inside and sit down.
Yamaguchi takes his apron off, logs in his break, and sits down right across from you— also placing down some pastries for you to try.
“How would we even go about that?” He asks, taking the first bites of food so he could calm his nerves down.
You were here, and this had to be it.
He could totally do—
And his thoughts, along with your words, were cut off as the owners of this small bakery and the other people working with him decided to bring a cake out.
They must’ve been waiting for him to take his break in order to sing for him. He almost regrets logging it in.
“Happy birthday to you!~” As they sang, Yamaguchi only wished to be buried deep in a hole where no one could find him.
Of course it was a sweet gesture that he was grateful for, but he couldn’t look at the expression of bewilderment on your face as you sang along with them as if you knew it was his birthday all along.
“Make a wish!” The others tell him and so he does.
He wishes for things to work out today.
“Happy birthday, Yamaguchi. And thank you for being such a great worker here. We’ll leave you to enjoy your cake!” The kind old lady tells him, giving him a pat on his shoulder as they all walked away.
“It’s your birthday and you didn’t think to tell me? I was going on about professors for what?!” You immediately say once you’re alone again.
“I didn’t tell you because I don’t like making a big deal out of it. I normally do cake with my friends and family and call it a day.” He explains, rubbing the nape of his neck.
“Aren’t we friends though? I feel bad that I couldn’t get you anything now!” you lightly push his shoulder as a sign of annoyance but the contact just makes Yamaguchi’s heart soar.
And this is when his mind starts working.
This isn’t exactly the best way to ask you, and it may in fact be the worst way right now, but if he doesn’t take the opportunity now he know he’ll never take it again.
“Well, there is one thing you can give me right now…”
“Really? What is it?”
“You could say yes to going on a date with me.” He spits out as fast as he can, not looking you in the eye and opting for the table instead.
You don’t answer him for a moment and he fears this is the end of you and him— the end to your friendship anyway.
“A date you say? I was wondering when we’d go on one of those.” And Yamaguchi’s head flew up to look at you in surprise.
“W-What?” All you had was a smile on your face as you grabbed a fork to take a bite out of a cake.
“I’d love to take you on a date. I’ve been meaning to ask you myself, and for your birthday it’ll be on me.”
“You’re being serious? You’ll go on a date with me?” Yamaguchi couldn’t believe it. His birthday wish was already coming true.
“Actually, will YOU go on a date with ME? My treat, remember?” You were teasing him but also 120% serious.
“Yeah— yeah, yes. I’ll go on a date with you, of course.” The laugh that came out of Yamaguchi was breathless. He couldn’t resist the grin that made its way onto his face.
“Perfect, then we have a date.” Yamaguchi takes notice of the way an identical grin appears on your face.
He and you have a date together.
He actually has a date with you.
“Best birthday ever.”
He thought he said this to himself, but apparently not from the way you started laughing.
“Well, I’m honored you feel that way. I’ll definitely try to make it the best.
But he knew you wouldn’t have to. Everything was already the way he wanted it to be.
Confessing to Tsukishima Kei wasn't an easy task. He was unreadable and too nonchalant to be certain you were making the right guess. But not trying seemed a worse option than finally coming clean with your feelings. But when the answer seems so uncertain... maybe confessing on paper was a better idea than speaking out loud.
Original Request
Genre: Romance / Pure fluff.
Warnings: None.
Words: 1.4k
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Your heart beat rapidly. You had been planning this stunt for the past week and now the time for its execution had come. It had to be perfect, otherwise, you would crawl into the deepest hole to never be seen again. It was unfathomable you were about to give this a try. The person you were six months ago wouldn’t believe what present you were about to do.
You didn't fall for Tsukishima Kei right away, but you fell hard once you did. You sat side by side at class which made ignoring him impossible, especially in those stances where you had to work in pairs. Some teachers allowed you to choose your partner for the class, but others wanted to avoid too much of a mess and simply indicated to work with the person on your immediate side, which paired you with him more than once. As time passed, you two managed to develop a friendship. The sarcasm and the mocking were two languages you shared. It was fun and it was silly. Of course, until your heart began beating way too hard for your liking every time he crossed the threshold into the classroom completely disregarding everything around him with his headphones on. Those few seconds before he began acknowledging the world gave you the time to stare a bit longer. That’s how you realized you had most definitely fallen for the blonde.
You didn’t try to change anything in the routine. You kept your calm and pretended nothing had changed in you at all. However, months went by and you grew more impatient the bigger your feelings became. You wanted to believe the little notes he threw your desk when the teacher gave her back to the class meant something. There he would write a snarky commentary of sorts only for you to read—which would most often than not made you held your chuckles back. Or the way he lingered a bit longer in class even when it was clear he was ready to go because you weren’t ready yet. He didn’t say anything, he just stood there with phone in his hand but as soon as you were done, he would finish whatever he was doing, too, at the same time. Little things like that had given you the courage to come up with the unconventional method you were about to use to confess your feelings to him for once and for all.
Both Tsukishima and you were smart, you knew that by heart. You two were in an advanced class for a reason. But that didn’t mean that you were good at every single class. He was better than you in science but you beat him at math. More than once he had approached you with questions he would ask trying not to act as bashful as he was. That’s how the idea popped into your consciousness as to how you were going to go about it.
And with that in mind, you got mentally prepared to do it and patiently waited for him to struggle in math class so he would come to you.
Surely, the opportunity appeared.
Tsukishima was slightly frowning at his notebook as they did the in-class exercise the teacher had assigned. The back of your neck bristled with a cold sweat. Here it was. The moment you had been waiting for. Your heart slammed against your ribcage. You couldn’t walk back now. You would regret it. You had planned it. It was quick and easy. Embarrassing? A little. But not as embarrassing as evoking the words out loud. You would never be able to say it. It had to be like that if you stood any chance of doing it. And so, you cleared your throat loud enough for you to hear. He looked at you from the corner of his eyes.
You offered him a small smile. “Do you need some help, Tsukishima-san?” you whispered making sure the teacher didn’t hear her. He nodded and then with his fingers made a sign that meant ‘later’. As of now, they couldn’t talk much which meant you couldn’t do anything but keep to your own paper. However, if tradition followed, after class he would be meeting with you with all of his questions. That’s when it needed to happen.
As class went on, you found it troublesome to pay attention. Your mind was divided between what the teacher was relentlessly writing on the board and how you were going to advance with your great idea. The more you thought about it, the more you debated if you should do it. You began pondering on the option that maybe Tsukishima would ask to go over the class another day. He was constantly busy with volleyball practice and it wouldn’t be unusual either. It would give you time to either think things over or prepare mentally a bit more. However, as the teacher announced there would be a benchmark test at the end of the week to make sure everyone understood correctly, you knew you would have no time. Tsukishima wasn’t one to risk a bad grade like that. He was practical. If the solution he needed was at hand, he would take it without thinking twice. And he did like you had expected. He had asked you to stay a bit more after class to go over the new topic.
Now you were here, staring at the stupid math example you had written on your notebook—an example you wrote beforehand on your notebook with the help of the image you had saved on your phone so you could copy it perfectly. Tsukishima had pulled his chair to your desk and you could feel his gaze on you, waiting for you to explain what he was supposed to be looking at. The thing was, the mathematical problem for your gimmicky confession looked nothing like what you had seen in class.
It was now or never.
You took a deep breath and grabbed the eraser from your case. You were going to do it. No turning back. You placed a hand on the notebook as to keep the sheet of paper in place and to cover the lower half of the equation, and with that, you began erasing the upper half. Once this was done, you faced another issue… you had to move your hand so he could look at the secret message. You suddenly lacked the strength to move it away.
For your disgrace, it was him who moved your hand away with an exasperated huff. He most probably was thinking you were messing with him. It was so out of pocket for you to be this ineffective when explaining something. He clearly didn’t understand what she was doing, and he was getting impatient with the silence.
Both of you got frozen in time. He clearly saw what had become of the equation, and you were unable to lift your eyes from your lap and find out what was his expression. You thought you could do it, that you could face whichever his answer was, but now you only wanted to fly out of the window on your left.
The desk trembled and with a new curiosity in you, you lifted your eyes only a little. He had laid his elbow on the desk but that was all you could see. So… you lifted your eyes a little more. He had taken off his glasses and was covering his eyes with one of his hands. His lips were pressed in a tight line and you could see the heavy blush on his face.
“Like this,” he whispered, “you confess like this.”
Your eyes lingered on him before you could find your voice again. “Yes,” you whispered back. “I thought… it would be, I don’t know, cute.”
Tsukishima removed the hand from his face so he could look at you. He was more embarrassed than you, which was easy to see. You were nervous, but his entire face was pink. You two stared at each other speechless. You had shown everything you wanted to say, and he was lost for words.
“You don’t have to give me an answer right now. Or you can say no, too,” you declared hastily. “I’ll be fine whatever it is. You don’t have to stress about it.”
He snapped his tongue. “Stop,” he pleaded. He took a deep breath but he still didn’t grab his glasses. It was a strange image to see him without them. It was nice either way. “I mean, let’s go out then,” he said so fast it was almost impossible to understand him; yet, you did and nodded equally fast.
Of course, he wasn’t one to say he liked you back straightforward or do something like you have one. But it was more than you were hoping for.
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i constantly need an outlet amidst my school, work, and chaos called life, hence, this is the fruition of my insanity.
i appreciate you being here :)
⋆ divider: @cafekitsune
table of contents 𐙚
haikyuu series ✧ multi-chapter, daydream a little longer!
[under construction]
haikyuu oneshots ✧ have some snacks!
golden duo 「bokuto koutaro」
✧ what happens when you put a youngest son and an eldest daughter together? chaos. and yet, bokuto can not get enough of you and your cute little siblings.
fashion hunting 「suna rintarou」
✧ when two best friends get hooked on monster hunter and a tutorial ends up being a confession.
@koushazelnut, 2026. Do not modify, plagiarize, translate, repost, or use AI in any way on any platforms.
Summary: He’s always been your brother’s best friend, he’s always been there from sandcastles to high-school crushes. But somewhere along the way, he became so much more.
CW (content warning): Reader is Suga’s little sister (a year younger than him and Daichi), jealous Daichi, very slightly angst, mutual pining, mentions of a physical fight, not much more this is 99% tooth rotting fluff.
AN: Hi guys! So here’s the second instalment on the childhood series I talked about making on my last Atsumu work. Since Daichi is going last on my medieval AU masterlist (a crime in my opinion) I thought about making this to post something for me and the other 5 Daichi’s fans out there! 🫵🏻 English isn’t my first language so I’m sorry if there’s any mistakes. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think! :)
Requests are open so feel free to send yours! (you can check the list of characters I write for on my pinned post)
Masterlist
Sandcastles (Ages 4 and 5)
The playground was loud with the kind of wild, half-screamed laughter only kids could get away with. Metal clanged, sneakers pounded on the concrete, and a ball thudded against the fence before bouncing away unnoticed. You sat by yourself in the sandbox, a little island of quiet in a world moving too fast around you.
Sugawara’s friends were over again, he was already in first grade, and that made him cool. Too cool, apparently, to let his baby sister join their soccer game. You didn’t mind, not really. You were only four, and four-year-olds were apparently not old enough to keep up.
So you dug into the dry sand with your tiny plastic shovel, determined not to cry even though your throat felt tight. You’d been trying to build a castle, but it kept falling apart, slumping into sad piles like your mood.
“You’re doing it wrong.”
The voice made you look up. A boy with round cheeks, sun-warmed skin, and messy dark hair stood just outside the sandbox, a soccer ball tucked under one arm. You blinked at him. He wasn’t your brother, but you’d seen him around. He was always with Koushi.
“I’m not.” You said, lips wobbling even though you were trying to sound tough.
He tilted his head. “You kind of are.”
You crossed your arms. “You’re mean.”
“I’m Daichi.” He corrected instead, then stepped into the sandbox like he belonged there. “Can I help?”
You stared at him for a long second, then nodded slowly. His smile was wide and toothy, and you didn’t know it yet, but that smile would become one of your favorite things in the world.
“I’m building a castle.” You explained seriously, gesturing to the sad pile in front of you.
Daichi sat cross-legged beside you and squinted down at it. “It looks more like a mountain.”
You pouted.
“Okay, okay! Castle. Right.” He started scooping up handfuls of sand and packing them into lumpy towers. They were terrible, worse than yours and he kept knocking them over with his elbows. But he made you laugh.
When he managed to accidentally collapse one of your towers for the third time, he dropped his chin into his hands and sighed dramatically. “I’m really bad at this.”
“You’re terrible.” You agreed through a giggle, and that only made him grin harder.
“You know what would make it better?” He asked suddenly. “A moat. Castles always have moats.”
Together, you spent the next twenty minutes digging a crooked, shallow circle around your “castle” Daichi got sand in his socks and down the back of his shirt. You both ended up dirty and sun-warmed and happy.
When Koushi came running over to tell Daichi you were going home soon, you felt a little pang in your chest.
“Bye!” You said, waving your sandy hand.
“Bye!” He said, then paused. “You build really good castles.”
Your face lit up.
That was the very first time Daichi Sawamura made your heart feel a little bit bigger.
——————————————————————————
Skinned knees (ages 6 and 7)
“TAG! You’re it!”
“No fair, I wasn’t ready!”
Daichi bolted across the grass, arms pumping, sneakers kicking up dirt. He was fast, always had been, but the older kids had longer legs, and that meant he had to try harder to keep up. He liked that. It made him feel strong. Grown-up.
Until, of course, he didn’t see the root sticking up in the grass. His foot caught. His body pitched forward, and he hit the ground hard.
“DAICHI!” Koushi yelled.
“I’m fine!” He called back instantly, sitting up fast even though his knees burned and stung. His palms were scraped too, small pebbles sticking to the torn skin. It hurt.
But boys didn’t cry, right?
Still, his lip was trembling a little as he brushed at his knee. There was blood. Not a lot, but enough to make his stomach feel weird. He looked up and saw Sugawara running toward him, panic written all over his face.
And then he saw you, a small blur of pink and pigtails breaking into a run across the grass, your little shoes thudding hard. Daichi quickly looked down again.
“Daichi!” You called, breathless by the time you dropped to your knees beside him. “You’re bleeding!”
“‘M okay.” He mumbled.
But you were already digging into the tiny pink Hello Kitty pouch you carried everywhere. Out came a tissue, slightly crumpled but clean, and a bandaid decorated with sparkly stars.
You dabbed carefully at his knee, tongue peeking out in concentration. “You’re not okay.” You said matter-of-factly. “But it’s okay to cry, you know.”
He looked at you, wide-eyed.
“You’re allowed to cry.” You repeated gently, and then, without warning, you blew softly on his scraped knee.
Daichi blinked fast. He didn’t cry, not really, but his shoulders dropped, the tight knot in his chest loosening just a bit.
You peeled the bandaid and smoothed it over the cut with gentle fingers.
“There!” You said beaming up at him. “All better.”
And he looked at you like you’d just fixed the world.
——————————————————————————
The recital (ages 10 and 11)
Your heart was beating too fast.
You stood just off-stage, fingers twitching with nerves. The recital hall was bigger than you remembered. The polished black piano sat center stage like a challenge, and the rows of folding chairs were filled with strangers. Parents. Teachers. Judges.
Not your parents, though.
They wanted to come. They really did. But Koushi had a fever over 102, and your mom couldn’t leave his side. Your dad stayed too, and though you told them it was okay, your voice had cracked on the word.
You knew it wasn’t their fault but your stomach still twisted with disappointment as your name was called.
The walk to the piano felt miles long. You sat on the bench, placed your hands on the keys, and took a shaky breath.
You started to play. The first few notes were hesitant, your fingers stumbling, but muscle memory took over. You got lost in the melody, pouring your heart into the piece you’d practiced for weeks. It wasn’t perfect, but it was yours. When the final note faded, there was polite applause.
You stood, bowed, and left the stage with your hands trembling. Your throat burned. You weren’t going to cry, not here, not in front of everyone but it was close.
You stepped out into the hallway, wiping at your eyes before they could spill over.
“Hey.”
You jumped.
Daichi stood there, awkward in a button-up shirt that didn’t fit him quite right and jeans a little too long. His hair was combed for once. He held a crumpled bouquet of flowers, yellow daisies and baby’s breath tied together with a string.
Your mouth dropped open. “What are you doing here?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “Koushi said you had your recital. Your parents couldn’t come, so I… figured someone should.”
Your hands curled around the bouquet automatically. “You came?”
“I was a little late.” He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I saw the whole thing. You were amazing.”
You blinked fast. “I messed up at the start.”
“But you kept going. And you didn’t run offstage crying or throw the piano stool or anything. So, yeah. Amazing.”
You laughed, half-choked and half-sniffled. “That’s a bit dumb.”
“Maybe.” He grinned. “But I brought flowers.”
You stared at the yellow petals, heart warm and aching. The hallway was quiet now, just the two of you. You didn’t say anything for a moment. “Thank you.”
Daichi looked at you, softer than usual. “Anytime.”
And somehow you knew he meant it.
——————————————————————————
Fever (ages 11 and 12)
It was supposed to be just a quick errand.
Koushi was stuck finishing an assignment, and Daichi had come home from the overnight school camp sick, like really sick. Fever, sore throat, barely-talking kind of sick. His mom called in to say he’d be home for at least two days. And with the teachers sending over homework, someone had to drop it off.
So, Koushi looked at you. "Please?"
You grumbled a little, but truthfully? You didn’t mind.
You arrived at the Sawamuras’ place after school, your backpack heavier than usual and the plastic folder of assignments crumpling slightly in your grip. Daichi’s mom answered the door, soft-eyed and frazzled, thanking you a little too many times as she let you in.
“He’s upstairs.” She said. “Been sleeping most of the day, but maybe hearing a friend’s voice will help.”
You didn’t correct her. You weren’t sure what to call it friendship didn’t feel like enough anymore. But it was easier that way. Koushi surely was Daichi’s friend but you weren’t exactly sure what you were to him.
Daichi’s room was warm and dim when you pushed the door open gently.
He looked… awful. His face was flushed, dark hair stuck to his forehead, mouth slightly parted as he breathed raggedly through a stuffed-up nose. A cold cloth lay half-slid off his head, and the blanket was tangled around his legs.
You set your bag down quietly and crossed over to the bed. “Hey.” You whispered. “It’s me.”
No response.
You bit your lip, then climbed into the chair by his bedside. You picked up the fallen cloth and stood to re-wet it from the bowl on the nightstand, wringing it out and gently placing it back across his forehead.
Still nothing.
You sighed, then leaned your chin into your hand and began to talk. About school. About your teachers. About how Koushi nearly got detention for talking back to the gym coach. You told him about the vending machine that swallowed your money and about how your lunch had tasted weird but not bad, and how the clouds looked like mashed potatoes that day.
At some point, you looked down and realized he’d turned his face slightly toward your voice.
You reached for his hand. It was warm too warm, but he didn’t let go.
You stayed there, fingers wrapped around his and words spilling quietly into the air. You didn’t even realize how much time had passed until Daichi muttered something under his breath.
You froze.
“What was that?”
He twitched slightly. A soft, strained sound left him. “...’m sorry…”
You frowned, leaning closer. “Daichi?”
His eyes stayed closed, breath shallow. Then, barely above a whisper,your name. Just your name, drifting out like an anchor in a fever dream. Your heart climbed right into your throat.
“I’m here.” You whispered back instinctively. “I’ve got you.”
He didn’t reply again. But his hand never let go and you swore he held on tighter for a moment.
——————————————————————————
The quiet thread (quiet moments over the years)
You weren’t quite sure when it started to feel like something more.
There wasn’t a single moment, but a series of them, threaded together like tiny lights on a string, warm and blinking and easy to miss unless you really looked.
At his matches, you were always in the front row. Screaming his name when he served, clapping until your palms stung. You learned the game slowly, enough to keep up. Enough to see the way his eyes found you first when he landed a good spike. Always you.
At movie nights with the team, he always saved you a seat. Never said it outright, but it was always there, the spot beside him, the bowl of popcorn between you, the way he’d tilt the box of juice toward you first before taking one himself.
Once, Nishinoya tried to take your usual seat as a joke. Daichi didn’t even say anything, just gave him a look. That was all it took.
Noya grinned. “Okay, okay, got it. ‘Princess’ seat.’”
You rolled your eyes.
Daichi didn’t say a word.
But he smiled when you sat beside him anyway.
On rainy days, he’d offer his umbrella before you could ask. “You can give it back tomorrow.” He’d say, rubbing the back of his neck while the rain soaked his shoulders. You gave it back the next day every time. And somehow… it always smelled like him after.
When your cat died, he walked three blocks to your house even though it was a school night. Said he brought homework from Koushi but he never opened the folder. He just sat with you, quiet, legs crossed on your bedroom floor as you cried. When he finally left that night, your pillow smelled like his hoodie.
There was nothing romantic about it. Not yet. It wasn’t flirting. It was more. It was trust, built soft and slow. It was knowing that you could fall asleep in the middle of a movie night and wake up with a blanket over your shoulders and Daichi’s jacket folded beneath your head. It was brushing hands accidentally in the popcorn bowl and not pulling away. It was watching him laugh and not knowing why it made your chest ache.
It was all the things neither of you had words for. Not yet, but something was coming.
And somewhere in the space between childhood and whatever came next, the two of you had become each other’s safest place.
——————————————————————————
What it feels like (ages 15 and 16)
You never knew that watching someone get confessed to could hurt.
It was spring, and the hallways smelled like too many flowers and teenage hope. First-years were already rushing to get their chocolates ready for Valentine’s Day, and second-years were just starting to get bold with handwritten letters and awkward hallway meetups.
Daichi was tall and broad-shouldered by then Captain material, dependable and easy to talk to, with a smile that made even the teachers melt.
You saw it happen again and again: a girl standing with her hands clenched around a ribbon-tied box, red-cheeked and trembling. And Daichi, polite as ever, bowing his head with that apologetic smile that never quite reached his eyes.
“I’m really sorry. Thank you, though.”
And the girl would wilt a little, whisper it was okay, then rush away.
He never accepted. Not once.
And you didn’t know why it twisted your stomach the way it did. Why your heart sped up every time someone even looked at him like that. Why you caught yourself searching his face for a reaction he never gave. Why part of you felt strangely relieved when he turned them all down.
It made no sense. He wasn’t yours. He never had been. Still, every time he smiled at someone else, even just to say “no”, something inside you clenched like a fist.
You didn’t have a word for it back then. But it lived in you, quiet and constant. A dull, aching gravity.
——————————————————————————
The fight (ages 16 and 17)
It started with a name you’d gotten tired of hearing. Kento Takagi. He was a second-year, he was tall, annoying, way too smug. The first time he asked you out, you were polite. The second time, you were firm.
The third time, you ignored him completely. By the sixth time, you were one deep breath away from shoving your school shoe directly into his face.
You were standing just outside the school gates, trying to pack your books into your bag, when he approached again. “Come on, just one date.” He said, reaching for your wrist when you turned away. “You’re not even giving me a chance-”
“Let go.” You snapped.
That’s when you heard the sharp voice from behind you.
“She said let go.”
You turned. Sugawara got there first, stepping between you and Kento like a calm wall of sunshine and thinly veiled menace. “You’ve asked her enough times. She’s not interested. Take the hint.”
You could’ve hugged him.
But it was Daichi who arrived seconds later, face unreadable, steps deliberate.
Kento scoffed. “Seriously? You’ve got two bodyguards now?”
And that was when he grabbed your arm again. That was his mistake.
Daichi shoved between you before you could react, his hand closing around Kento’s wrist like steel. “Are you deaf?” His voice low and cold, “She told you to let go.”
Kento sneered. “What’s it to you? You her boyfriend or something?”
It happened too fast. Daichi’s fist swung clean and hard - crack - straight into Kento’s jaw. The other boy stumbled backward, clutching his face, spitting curses and blood.
“DAICHI!” Sugawara shouted.
Your heart dropped. “What- ?!”
And then the teachers were there, and everything blurred, raised voices, hands pulling them apart, Kento wailing about “assault” and Daichi just standing there, jaw clenched, breathing hard, knuckles bleeding.
——————————————————————————
The walk home (later that day)
Daichi got detention. Of course he did.
One week. After school. Report filed, parents notified.
You waited for him anyway.
You sat on the stone steps just outside the gym, watching the sun dip low behind the school roof. You weren’t sure if he’d even want you there after what happened, but your legs stayed glued to the steps.
He came out just as the light started to fade.
“Hey.” You said.
He paused. “You waited?”
“Duh.” You muttered, standing. “Who else is gonna yell at you for punching a guy like an idiot?”
A smile tugged at his mouth, tired and faint. He didn’t say anything else.
You walked side by side in silence for a while, the wind tugging at your sleeves, leaves skittering across the sidewalk. His hand hovered just a few inches from yours, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off of it.
You didn’t move away.
When you finally reached your street, you caught the way he flexed his fingers, bruised and red, still split at the knuckles.
“Come here.” You said quietly, turning into your driveway instead. “Let me clean that.”
He didn’t argue. You sat him down at the kitchen counter and pulled out the first aid box. He sat obediently, arm resting on the table, watching as you opened the kit with practiced hands.
The light in the kitchen was soft, gold and humming. You dipped a cotton ball into antiseptic, glancing at him before pressing it gently to the raw skin. “This is probably going to sting.”
“I’ve had worse.” He muttered.
You didn’t ask when. You didn’t like thinking about him getting hurt. You worked slowly, carefully, dabbing at the scrapes and cuts, the silence between you thick with things unsaid.
“You didn’t have to do that.” You said finally, voice too soft. “I could’ve handled it.”
Daichi didn’t look away from you. “He shouldn’t have touched you.”
Your chest tightened. “Still…”
He shook his head slightly. “I don’t care if I got detention. I’d do it again.”
Your fingers paused over the edge of a bandage. The weight of the moment pressed between you. You wrapped the gauze slowly, smoothing it flat over his knuckles. Your hands lingered on his, thumbs grazing gently across his skin.
He wasn’t looking away. Neither were you. You could feel his breath, short and uneven. His hand turned slightly, palm brushing yours.
“Daichi…” You whispered.
His eyes dropped to your lips. Your heart stopped. He leaned in-
-and then pulled back, sharp and sudden.
His chair scraped softly against the tile. “Thanks.” He said, voice too stiff. “For… patching me up.”
You sat frozen, heart pounding, mouth still parted like a question. He didn’t look at you again as he stood to leave.
And just like that, the moment passed, too big, too heavy, too much for two people still pretending they didn’t already belong to each other.
——————————————————————————
Realization (ages 16 and 17)
You didn’t realize it all at once.
It crept in slowly, quietly, like a song you’d heard too many times to really hear until one day, it cracked you wide open.
It was in the way he laughed, full and real, the kind of laugh that made your stomach flutter.
It was the way he always noticed when something was off. The way he handed you your favorite drink without being asked. The way he texted you before every exam: You’ve got this. I believe in you.
It was the way he looked at you after matches, chest still heaving, sweat dripping down his temple but his eyes always found you in the crowd first. Always you.
It was in the small things. Because that’s where Daichi always lived.
And one night, alone in your room, scrolling through the blurry picture Suga had taken of you and Daichi at the last team festival, him smiling wide, your cheeks flushed from laughing too hard, you felt it all at once.
You loved him.
It wasn’t loud or dramatic. It just was. And it hurt. Because he had never said anything. He had pulled away from you that night with bruised knuckles and trembling silence. And despite everything you thought you saw in his eyes, he had never crossed the line.
Not once.
So maybe… he really did just see you as Koushi’s little sister. Someone he’d always protected. Someone who had always been around. Familiar. Comfortable.
You told yourself it was fine. That you understood. But the ache in your chest said otherwise.
——————————————————————————
The confession (and it’s not his)
His name was Riku Yamamoto.
He was sweet. Polite. Sat next to you in art class and smelled like peppermint and clean laundry. He made you laugh with his bad puns, and once stayed behind to help you carry paints back to the storage room.
And then one day, after class, heart in his hands, he confessed.
You blinked at him for a long second. “Wait, me?”
Riku flushed. “Yeah. I know it’s kind of sudden, and you probably don’t see me that way, but I just… I thought I’d try. One date. That’s all I’m asking.”
You hesitated. Then you said yes. Not because you didn’t love Daichi. But because he didn’t love you back and, maybe, if someone else looked at you like that, like you were the one they’d been hoping for, maybe it would be enough to forget the feeling of being invisible to the only boy who had ever mattered.
Daichi didn’t find out from you. He found out from Koushi.
It was after practice, the sun beginning to dip below the horizon, everyone sprawled out in the gym, sweat and laughter hanging thick in the air. Koushi was chatting absentmindedly about weekend plans, tossing his water bottle from hand to hand.
“Yeah, I think [Y/N]’s got a date with that Yamamoto kid.” He said casually, wiping his forehead.
Daichi froze. “What?”
Koushi looked up. “Huh? Oh, Riku. You know, from Class 2-C? She said he asked her out and she figured, why not.”
The air shifted. Daichi’s grip on his towel tightened.
“Oh.” He said, flat and hollow.
Koushi paused, brows furrowing. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” Daichi lied. “Fine.”
But he wasn’t. Something cold and sick settled deep in his chest, and it didn’t move.
You didn’t hear from him for two days. No texts. No calls. Not even a glance when you passed in the hallway. At first, you thought you were imagining it. But by the second day, your chest was too tight to ignore it anymore.
You cornered him after practice, outside the locker room, where the hallway was dim and empty.
“Daichi.” You said, breathless. “Why are you avoiding me?”
He turned, slowly, sweat still clinging to his hairline. “I’m not.”
“You are. You haven’t talked to me in two days.”
He shrugged, expression unreadable. “Been busy.”
“With what? Pretending I don’t exist?”
He flinched,just barely, but you caught it.
“You’re mad.” You said. “Why?”
“I’m not mad.”
“Then what is it?”
He looked away. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does!” Your voice cracked. “Just say it, Daichi! If you’re upset, then say it! Why have you been avoiding me since Koushi told you that I was going on a date?!”
And then it hit like thunder, loud and raw, shoving out of him before he could stop it. “Because I- ”
But he stopped.
Your breath hitched. “Because you what?”
Daichi stared at you, chest rising and falling. And then- Nothing. Silence. He looked down, jaw tight, fists clenched at his sides.
You laughed, bitter and broken. “Right. That’s what I thought.”
He reached for you instinctively. “Wait- ”
You stepped back. “No.” You said. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to get jealous and act like you care and then say nothing.”
Tears stung your eyes.
“I’ve spent years loving you, Daichi.” You whispered. “And I thought… maybe you felt something too. But you never said anything. You just left me hanging. And now I finally say yes to someone else, and now you care?”
He looked shattered.
You shook your head, blinking hard. “I’m not doing this anymore.” You said as you turned and walked away.
Daichi stood frozen in the hallway long after you were gone, gutted and ghost-silent, realizing too late that maybe the biggest mistake he’d ever made was thinking silence would keep you safe.
——————————————————————————
The fallout (ages 16 and 17)
Daichi was a mess.
He went through practice like a ghost, movements tight, eyes distant. He forgot to bring his lunch two days in a row. He barely spoke unless someone asked him a direct question. When he did speak, it was flat, empty, like someone else had taken up residence in his chest.
He still couldn’t believe it. He’d hurt you. You, the one person he’d sworn to never hurt. And he’d done it not with his fists, not with his voice, but with his silence. It was almost worse.
“Okay, I’ve had enough.” Sugawara said, finally slamming his bento box down during lunch break.
Daichi blinked across the bench. “Huh?”
“You’re miserable. [Y/N]’s miserable. Everyone within a 10-meter radius of you two is miserable. And I’m tired of being the only emotionally functioning person in this hellhole.”
“I- ” Daichi started.
“No. Shut up and listen to me.”
Sugawara leaned forward, voice dropping low, expression dead serious.
“I’ve known you my whole life. You’ve been my best friend since we were basically in diapers. And I knew. I knew you were in love with her before you did.”
Daichi stared, color draining from his face.
“You used to look at her like she was the whole damn world. Still do, honestly. But the second someone else looked at her that way? You freaked. You got scared. And instead of saying something, you broke her heart.”
Daichi swallowed hard. “I didn’t mean to- ”
“I know.” Sugawara said gently. “That’s the problem.”
A beat of silence.
Then Suga sighed, raking a hand through his hair before adding with brutal softness, “You’re my best friend, Daichi. I trust you. But if you make her cry again…” He leaned in, all warmth gone. “I’ll make sure you never have kids.”
Daichi choked. “Jesus- ”
“I mean it.”
“I know, that’s what makes it worse.”
“Now go fix it.” Suga said, softening again. “Before someone else does.”
——————————————————————————
Not him
Riku was kind. He held your hand when you let him. He smiled when he looked at you. He paid attention. He didn’t try to be anything other than himself. He was… safe
But he wasn’t Daichi. He didn’t notice the way you only ever half-laughed. He didn’t know that you hated sour candy but kept a pack in your bag because Daichi liked it.
He didn’t know that the piano pieces you played the most were the ones Daichi had once said made him feel like flying.
And it wasn’t fair to either of you.
So one quiet afternoon after class, you sat on the bleachers behind the school and looked at Riku’s warm, patient face and whispered. “I’m sorry.”
He smiled, sad but understanding. “I figured.”
“No hard feelings?”
He shook his head. “You don’t forget someone like him. I wouldn’t want to compete with that either.”
You laughed, choked and wet and when he hugged you goodbye, you didn’t cry. Because the only person who could make you cry like that… was the one who already had.
——————————————————————————
The doorstep
It was three days after you ended things with Riku when the knock came at your door. You opened it and froze.
Daichi stood there on your porch, rain misting through his hair, his hoodie clinging slightly to his shoulders like he’d run here even though the walk wasn’t far.
His eyes were wide. Nervous. He looked wrecked.
“Hey….” He said, breathless. “Can I… talk to you?”
You nodded, heart pounding. He stepped in, water dripping from his sleeves. He didn’t sit. Just stood there, shifting like he couldn’t figure out how to stand still.
“I heard you broke up with Riku.”
You blinked. “How- ?”
“Suga.” He admitted. Of course.
You wrapped your arms around yourself. “If you came to say I shouldn’t have- ”
“No.” He said immediately, almost desperately. “No. That’s not why I came.” He inhaled like it hurt. “I came because I should’ve said something. A long time ago. And I’m scared if I don’t say it now, I’ll never get another chance.”
You froze. He looked at you then, all soft vulnerability and breaking open.
“I’ve been in love with you since I was eight and you made me those stupid flower crowns at the park.” He said, voice cracking. “I didn’t even know what that meant back then, I just knew that when you smiled at me, I felt like the sun was coming up inside my chest.”
Your breath caught.
“You’ve always been more than just Suga’s little sister to me. You’ve been my best friend, my safe place, my home. And I was an idiot for thinking that staying quiet was somehow protecting you. I thought if I kept things the same, if I stayed in that ‘safe’ space, you’d never leave. But I hurt you instead.”
You didn’t move. Couldn’t even breathe.
He shifted, eyes wide and panicked. “I- I don’t know if you can forgive me. I get it if you’re done. I just- ” He ran a hand through his hair. “I just had to tell you. Because I meant it. Every time I looked at you I couldn’t pull my eyes away because you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. And I didn’t know how to say it then, but I do now, and- ”
“Daichi.” You whispered.
He froze mid-ramble. “What- ?”
“Just shut up.” You stepped forward and kissed him.
Soft. Slow. Certain. And he melted.
Your hands slid up to cup his jaw, his cheeks cold from the rain. His fingers trembled as they touched your waist, like he still couldn’t believe you were real.
When you finally pulled back, your forehead resting against his, you smiled.
“Welcome home.” You whispered.
He let out a breath that sounded like a laugh and a sob at once and held you like he’d never let go again.
Later that night, curled up beside him on the couch, the soft glow of the TV washing over your skin, Daichi whispered. “I was so scared you’d moved on.”
“I tried.” You murmured into his shoulder. “Didn’t work.”
He chuckled. “Good.”
You tilted your head to look at him. “What about Suga?”
“I already got the threat.” He said, deadpan. “Something about not having kids?”
You grinned. “Sounds like him.”
Daichi leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Worth it.”
You sighed into his chest. It had taken you years but you were here now. No more almosts. No more silence. Just the two of you, finally.
—————————————————————————
When Suga finds out
The moment you told Koushi, you were terrified. Not because you thought he’d be mad. You knew your brother, he’d probably suspected it for years.
But because Daichi, the captain of Karasuno’s volleyball team, defender of justice and protector of your heart, had gone completely pale.
“Okay, okay.” You whispered, gripping his hand. “He’s not going to kill you.”
“I don’t know.” Daichi muttered. “He did threaten to neuter me.”
“Okay, valid.”
So naturally, when you finally told him one evening after dinner, it went exactly as expected and also, somehow, worse.
You sat him down in the living room. Daichi looked like he was preparing for a firing squad. You reached for his hand and took a deep breath.
“Koushi.” You said gently. “We have something to tell you.”
He blinked.
Daichi cleared his throat. “I… I’m dating your sister.”
A beat. Koushi saw the opportunity of his life and he was going to milk it. His eyes narrowed, slowly, like a cat sensing prey.
“My best friend.” He said. “My lifelong best friend.”
Daichi nodded, bracing. “Yes.”
“My sister.” Koushi added. “Who I have known since she was a literal embryo.”
“Correct.”
He gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. “Betrayal. My blood. My captain. You’ve conspired under my very nose!”
“Oh my god.” You groaned. “Koushi, please.”
“I leave you two alone for five seconds and suddenly there’s hand holding in my house? Kissing under my roof?”
Daichi was already hiding behind a throw pillow. But then Koushi dropped the act, grinning so wide it made your eyes sting.
“Took you long enough.” He said, eyes kind. “God. You’ve been making heart eyes at each other since grade school.”
You blinked. “You’re not… mad?”
“Please.” He scoffed. “You think I’d have let just anyone get close to you like that? I’ve been waiting for you idiots to figure it out.”
You exhaled, relief slumping your shoulders.
Then he added with a smirk, “But I swear, if I walk in on you making out, I will bleach my eyeballs.”
He did in in fact, end up walking in on you making out.
To be fair, you thought he was out with the team. And Daichi thought the coast was clear.
So when he kissed you against the kitchen counter, slow and thorough you tugged at the hem of his shirt, and he whispered something that made your knees weak-
“OH MY GOD- ”
You both leapt apart like guilty teenagers caught red-handed.
Koushi’s face was scarlet. “I eat there! The counter!”
Daichi was already halfway behind the fridge door.
You covered your face. “Koushi, we weren’t- ”
“You had your tongue in his soul, [Y/N]!”
“Koushi!”
Daichi wheezed. “I’m sorry-”
“You’re dead to me, Sawamura! Dead!”
——————————————————————————
Graduation day (ages 17 and 18)
Karasuno’s gym was buzzing with laughter and soft music, the crowd a sea of uniforms and proud parents. You were practically vibrating with excitement, your camera hanging from your neck, phone fully charged.
You spotted them immediately.
Daichi, sharp in his black gakuran, shoulders broad, smile wide and Koushi, looking radiant as ever, waving his arms dramatically from a distance.
You ran toward them and threw your arms around Daichi first, nearly knocking the wind out of him. “You did it!”
He laughed, wrapping you up tight. “We did it.”
You pulled back only to be immediately seized by your brother.
“Betrayed.” Koushi said, loud and overdramatic. “I’m also graduating, and yet you run to him first? My own kin? Have you no shame?”
You rolled your eyes, grinning. “You’ll live.”
“Will I?”
“You got three flower bouquets, and I saw someone slip you their number.”
“Okay, I’ll live.”
Daichi chuckled, eyes fond as he watched the two of you bicker. Then he slipped his hand into yours, just like he always had. Only now, it meant something.
You leaned your head on his shoulder. You didn’t say it, but he felt it anyway. I’m proud of you.
That night, you sat together on the roof of Daichi’s house, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders, the stars just starting to peek out. He was quiet beside you, his hand warm over yours.
“So….” You said softly. “What now?”
He smiled. “Police academy starts in a few weeks.”
You nodded. “You’re going to be amazing.”
“What about you?”
“I’ve got one more year.” You said. “And then… music school, maybe. I want to teach. Or compose. Maybe both.”
He looked at you like the stars were in your skin.
“I’ll be cheering for you.” He said.
You glanced sideways. “Long-distance okay with you?”
“Only if you promise to send me songs.” He said. “And let me visit you on weekends.”
“Deal.”
You were quiet for a while, the breeze soft around you.
Then Daichi added, voice barely above a whisper. “I want a future with you, you know.”
You looked at him, heart stuttering.
“Not just dating. I mean… life. You. Me. Someday.” He kissed your temple. “I already wasted years of our lives because I was too scared to say something, I plan on spending the rest with you.”
Your throat tightened.
“Good.” You whispered, squeezing his hand. “Because I do too.”
He leaned in, kissed you slow and sweet and everything, the years of near misses, quiet heartbreak, ache and waiting,clicked into place.
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