PAIRING - Hinata Shoyo x Reader
WC - 2.9K GENRE - Smut
CW - first person fic (not sorry), fingering, oral f!receiving, eating out before and after sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, touch of dacryphilia
SYNOPSIS - meeting Shoyo was a meeting of chance, a vacation in Brazil that brought you to the insatiable man with you now... three months later
A/N - i'm not a hinata girl but i just knowww that brazil hinata is intoxicating
Meeting Hinata Shoyo was like a fever dream. A whirlwind of events that made me dizzy. A chance meeting I’d never expected to be a part of.
I’d taken a chance on a vacation by myself, something I’d never done before. Randomly dropped my finger on a map. Bought myself a one-way ticket out of my country and found myself in Brazil. It was an impulsive trip, an impulsive decision, a need to get away and reset.
Finding myself on the beach was inevitable. Being in Brazil I knew I would make my way there eventually. Finding the tanned ginger on the beach was by chance. A happy coincidence led me to watching the way his muscles flexed from behind my sunglasses. The sunlight dancing off the sweat and sand across his skin.
After seeing him it was only inevitable that my book was forgotten, the page hadn’t turned for the majority of his game. Me desperately trying to hide that I’d been staring when I’d been caught. That was pathetic really, I didn’t gather myself fast enough.
Shoyo had claimed that he knew from the beginning, noticed my eyes on him, and made it a mission to come talk to me after. Had told me that it was inevitable that his eyes would find me. And so began the whirlwind of our summer.
I had originally meant to stay for maybe a week. But with the way Shoyo pulled me around from event to event. The way I would jump around in my bikini at his games cheering him on always ended with him pressing me into the wall of the nearest bathroom or if he could restrain himself he’d wait until we got to his room. He escorted me to pretty dates every other night; casual, fancy, relaxing, each one was different, Shoyo was a never-ending well of giving and care. Every night was a new adventure that ended with me in his arms.
What was meant to be a week trip turned into two weeks. Two weeks turned into a month. And now, I’d been here for almost three months. Three months and a dizzying chain of events that caused me to fall deeply in love with Shoyo. But after three months, my time was running out. Summer was coming to a close and I was supposed to find my way back to my home country, to start up my job again. I was supposed to leave Shoyo. That was the worst of all, leaving him.
Everytime I almost left he was there and I couldn’t. It felt more like home in his presence than it did in the small apartment I usually occupied in another country. Being with him felt like being in the sun in spring. Warming up after a cold winter. Like coming in from the snow to a fireplace. Warmth and comfort. Like home. Home I never wanted to leave.
“Do you have to go?” He mumbled against my skin, lips pressing softly to the base of my throat. I let a soft moan escape my lips as his hands brushed across the bare skin of my back, fingers dancing towards the strings of my bikini top.
“Sho,” I mumbled as my hands found their way into his bright curls, “I’ve been here all summer.” I gasped as he nipped at the skin he’d just been kissing, simultaneously pulling on the string of my top to let it fall. “Are you trying to convince me this way?” I giggled and moaned again when his mouth moved over, tongue coming out to lick over the tops of my breasts.
“Is it working?” He chuckled, vibrations pulsing through the skin of my chest as his hands moved down to my hips. Was it working? I sighed, in pleasure and exasperation. He didn’t have to convince me. I didn’t want to go. Was on the edge of never letting him leave my sight again. I’d stayed all summer because of his asking. “Don’t wanna lose you, baby.” He mumbled again, mouth moving lower to pull one of my nipples into his mouth.
“Fuck, Sho.” I whispered, fingers pulling at his hair as my head fell back. He walked me backwards, knees hitting the bed before he gave me a soft shove. I giggled as he looked down at me, my body bouncing lightly on the mattress. I leaned up on my elbows to look at him. “If you ask me to stay Sho…” I trailed off and he sighed, sinking to his knees in front of me.
“I know.” He mumbled. Pressing a soft kiss to the inside of one of my knees as his fingers rubbed soft circles into the other. “Doesn’t mean I want you to go.” He pressed another kiss to the inside of my thigh, the soft action causing a gasp to fall from my lips again.
“Sho,” another sigh left my lips as his fingers worked their way under my bikini bottoms, dragging them slowly down my thighs as he followed their trail with kisses, “I don’t want to go.” He hummed against my skin. My hands found his hair again and I tugged lightly, bringing his face up to mine. He followed easily, pressing his lips to mine in a way I could only describe as full of love. “Let me forget.” I begged, parting our lips just for the words to pass through before reconnecting them.
“Let me take care of you.” His words were softer than his hands were as they parted my thighs. They held a double meaning, I could hear it, see it, feel it like the way his lips kissed down the center of my chest. Let him take care of me. Always.
He was the air I breathed, day in and day out. Could be for the rest of my life if I let him. “Sho-” I whined as his fingers traced where I needed him the most, collecting the wetness that was already gathered.
It was easy for him to sink his fingers into me. Practiced. The way he curved them up straight into the soft spot inside of me was routine. Soft moans were slipping from my lips as he continued to kiss down my stomach. “You’re not about to cum already, are you baby?” He mumbled at the top of my hip. I only whined in response. It was too easy for him to ease me into this routine. We both knew it. He could push me over the edge in just seconds. The way his fingers beckoned me to cum. Or he could- “Will you hold it for me baby?” -ask me to do that. The sweet tone coming from him was one I couldn’t resist. I would do anything he told me. “Hold it for me please.”
His lips placed themselves just over my clit, rolling the bud lightly between them as his tongue flicked over it. We both moaned at the same time. I fell off my elbows quickly, my fingers grasping at the sheets. “Fuck, Sho, you’re gonna make me-” I moaned again.
“God.” He pulled away for a second, licking his lips before licking into me right next to his fingers. “You taste so good.” He mumbled into me, sending vibrations up my core that had me clenching my thighs around his shoulders. “Lemme just,” he moaned again and moved his fingers faster as he sucked my clit back between his wet lips. “I can’t get enough of you baby.”
I felt my orgasm quickly coming to a tipping point, my whines only fueling on the man between my legs. “Sho, Sho,” his name fell from my lips in cries as I wound my fingers into his hair again tugging to receive groans in response. “Sho, I’m gonna-” I let out a high-pitched whine as my back started to arch.
“I know,” he mumbled, pulling back to kiss the inside of my thigh, “I know I can feel it. But you can hold it right baby?” He asked, begged me as his fingers kept a constant pace that had me tightening up. “Be a good girl and hold it for me please.” I whined, trying to push back the overwhelming feeling that was rushing over me. I could feel Shoyo’s eyes raking over my form, watching every twitch of my muscle.
As much as I refused to defy his orders I could give my body giving up, bringing me closer and closer to falling over. “Sho,” I whined, trying to warn him, “Sho I can’t.” It was so close and right as I was about to tip over he removed himself completely from between my legs. I couldn’t describe the sound of the whine that was ripped out of my chest at my ruined orgasm. “Sho, please, just wanna cum.”
“I know, I’m sorry.” His voice was breathy as he leaned over me. He connected his lips to mine quickly, stealing my breath and swallowing my noises. I could taste myself on his tongue as he worked it easily into my mouth. “I just wanna feel you baby.” I moaned lightly into his mouth at the confession. Breathing in his air as he pressed his tip against my entrance. We both moaned when he sunk in quickly, down to the base in one languid stroke. “Fuck baby.” His head fell forward, tucking into my neck as his hips immediately picked up a quick pace.
I turned my head pressing my forehead against the crook of his elbow as his large arms caged me under him. Curses fell from my lips as he recklessly pounded against the soft spot inside of me. “Sho please, please I wanna cum.” I cried, feeling the pressure start building again, rapidly building higher than it had before. My vision was blurring and my head was starting to feel light, moans slipping out of my lips like a second language.
“Fuck, I know baby, just hold onto it for me.” I whined, head falling back, pressing into the mattress as one of his hands came to wrap my leg around his waist.
The change of angle had my nails scraping against the skin of his back as he groaned in my ear, pounding into me in a way that had me seeing stars. “Please, please, please Sho.” I cried out, moan ripping through my chest. “Wanna cum please Sho.”
“You feeling dizzy baby?” He whispered in my ear and I could almost feel him grinning when I nodded. “Tell me you feel good baby.”
“Feel-feels good Sho.”
“Now tell me what you want.”
“Want-” I gasped, “want you to make me cum Sho.” He hummed in response and kissed into my neck sloppily.
“You want to cum baby?” I nodded thoughtlessly, pleas falling from my lips. “Okay, okay baby, cum for me then.” His permission was enough to send me tumbling up towards my high. “Let me feel you cum baby. Let go.” I cried out, arching up into him as he continued to fuck me through my orgasm, lighting my nerves on fire as his fingers brushed against my skin.
“Sho?” I questioned as he pulled out of me. “You didn’t-”
He stopped me easily, sinking back down to his knees. “Its not about me baby.” He smirked up at me from between my thighs, easily hooking my knees over his shoulders. “I want you to give me another one.” I whined as he latched his lips back onto my clit, immediately feeling the high that hadn’t fully left, building again. I tried to wiggle my hips away but he clicked his tongue, strong hands coming to hold me in place. “Don’t try to get away baby, I know you love it.” I gasped desperately, clawing at his shoulders as he tumbled me over the edge again. My hands were pushing at his shoulders as he kept going, licking a long strip up my core before pulling away to speak. “I just wanna please your perfect little pussy.” His words were vile and sincere and they had me tightening around nothing, desperate to do anything for him. “Just want you to get all the pleasure you deserve.” He latched his lips around my clit, sucking it in and then popping his lips as he pulled back again. “How does it feel baby-tell me it feels good baby.”
“Feels good Sho, feels good.” I whimpered, nerves on fire as I couldn’t decide if I wanted to push him away or pull him closer. “S’good.” I whined.
“You’re gonna cum for me right baby?” I nodded desperately, squeezing my eyes as my back started to arch. “Look at your pretty legs shaking.” He mused, fingers digging into the soft flesh of my thighs next to his head. The whines that fell from my lips at the overstimulation raised in volume as my back arched off the mattress. “Keep begging and whimpering baby,” he moaned against me, “you sound so pretty.”
“Sho,” I whined, fingers twisting his hair, resulting in another moan from him, “can’t anymore Sho.” My eyes were starting to water as the pinpricks of overstimulation tugged harsher on my nerves.
“You asked me to cum baby, just wanna give you what you want.” Shoyo mumbled, tongue working over my clit as two of his fingers slipped into me easily, curling up and immediately pulling the desired reaction. “Cum for me again baby.” It was an easy order to follow, tears leaking from my eyes as I came on his lips and fingers again.
His fingers kept at their ministrations as he moved my knees off his shoulders and moved back up. “Sho, m’sensitive.” I let out a small cry but he just pressed a small kiss to my cheek.
“I know baby, look at your pretty little tears.” He cooed in my ear. “But it feels good right baby?” I nodded fervently, whining lightly as he kept his fingers pressed into the perfect spot inside of me. “You want me back inside you baby?”
I nodded again, whimpering as I reached for him. “Please, Sho.”
He smiled down at me, catching my lips and swallowing my cries as he pressed himself back into me. He left a broken moan across my lips as he stilled for a second, completely inside of me. “Fuck baby, you’re so tight around me.” He groaned, arms tensing as he wound one around my waist. “Fucking throbbing around me.” He reached his hand in between us and rubbed soft circles to my clit. I pressed my chest against his easily, head falling back as I moaned loudly, a curse of his name falling out of my mouth. “You’re so sensitive, baby.” He picked up the pace of his hips, pressing into me repeatedly, the dizziness coming back, eyes blurring. “But you love it, right?”
“Love it, Sho.” I sobbed out, fresh tears falling from my eyes. White spots started to dot my vision as he bullied his tip into the already over sensitive spot inside of me, fingers still dancing over my clit. “Feels good right there, right there Sho.”
“It’s okay baby it’s okay, I got you.” He whispered against the base of my throat. “My perfect baby.” He moaned softly. “Can you cum for me again baby.” I shook my head lightly, but knew it was inevitable anyways. “Come on baby.” He coaxed, pressing small kisses to neck. I could feel it coming anyways, the coil tightening in my stomach again, my muscles tensing up. “You want my cum baby?” I nodded desperately, pleas falling from my lips as I mindlessly begged to feel him fill me up. “Then cum for me again baby.” His request was followed by moans of his vibrating against my neck and I could feel him holding back. “Fuck, fuck baby, you feel so good squeezing me.” He was the one whining now as he pounded into me, arm cradling my baby to his. “Fuck I need you,” he moaned again, “need you to cum for me again please.”
“Fuckfuckfuck, Sho…” I cried out, a small shriek leaving my lips as he snapped the cord inside of me, sending me into another earth shattering orgasm. I cried at the mix of pain and pleasure that the overstimulation coursed through my body.
“Good girl, baby.” He praised, his thrusts getting sloppy as he spilled himself into me. “Fu-ck, good girl.” He moaned, slowing down but not stopping his hips from rocking into me. “I love you, baby, stay here.” He begged, lips coming up to mine.
“I love you, Sho.” I started but he kissed me before I could continue, stealing my words from me.
“Stay with me, baby.” He begged against my lips. “Let me take care of you.” The double meaning taking its true form. Let me take care of you. Let me make sure you never have to worry again. Let me love you. “Stay with me, please.”
“I love you, Sho.” I whispered against his lips. A small whimper fell out of my mouth as he stuttered his thrust, his fingers grazing over my sensitive clit again.
He smiled, knowing that I wouldn’t be leaving tomorrow. “You can give me another one, right baby?” He asked, begged as his fingers persisted. I hiccuped a sob and looked up at him hesitantly. “One more for me baby.” He insisted, asking the same way he always asked me to stay longer. A request that I couldn’t deny even if I tried.
note: fuji-q is a theme park in japan which has multiple record-holding rides. it also had a ride which caused multiple injuries before it closed 💀 there's also a haunted house made at the building of an actual abandoned hospital. but there's also a thomas the train area. it's actually my favourite amusement park and i really hope more people visit it over disney HAHA
would go on all the rides with you and takes it like a champ. was super excited to go on the rides with you and screams in enjoyment rather than fear.
he's honestly terrified of the rides. he looks up at the height and the twists and turns and gulps. he might even attempt to persuade you to go somewhere else but you end up dragging him on. he may or may not let out a scream but in the end decides it's not so bad (he couldn't have done it without squeezing your hand)
throws up or is extremely nauseous after the first ride. because he loves you he'll go on more but maybe it's for the best you just try the puzzle house
→ azumane asahi, haiba lev, yamaguchi tadashi, kindaichi yutaro
does not fear the haunted house at all because "it's not real". does not care that it used to be a real hospital. but he holds your hand throughout the whole thing.
→ KITA SHINSUKE, suna rintarou, shirabu kenjiro, matsukawa issei, suna rintarou, ushijima wakatoshi, tsukishima kei, nishinoya yuu (he's not fearless but he's the bravest), tendou satori, iwaizumi hajime
he's scared of the haunted house but he's not gonna show it. but he's gripping your hand very tightly and he's keeping his mouth shut in order not to scream
he's scared of the haunted house and you can tell. he screams at jumpscares and is very close to just picking you up and running. might quit early but if you're braver than him, he might be able to stay until the end.
there is a point in an orbit where the earth drifts as close to the sun as it will ever get. astronomers call it perihelion, but for you, it was just what growing up with shoyo had always felt like.
✦ content. 7.2k words ⋆ hinata shoyo x f!reader ⋆ childhood friends to lovers. set in the brazil arc. reader goes on vacation to visit shoyo. there's only one bed. mutual pining. brief language barrier w other characters. alcohol. an almost-kiss that turns into [redacted bc spoilers]. an actual kiss to wrap it all up in a neat, #requited love ribbon!
✦ foreword. this is part of the hq x reader server's summer fic exchange!! wrote this piece with my lovely @deltamel in mind <333 hello, you! surprise, i am your secret summer santa mwehehe sorries it took a while to put out, i've had my hands tied for a while but i finally got to lock in for shoyo and mel :3c
There is a point in an orbit where the earth drifts as close to the sun as it will ever get. Astronomers call it perihelion, but for you, it was just what growing up with Shoyo had always felt like.
He lived only a few blocks down the street, but the universe around him felt so vast that your paths might never have crossed if your mothers hadn’t been the best of friends. Wanting their same-age kids to be just as close was second nature to them, and as it turned out, falling into step with Shoyo came to you as naturally as breathing.
You were always just one beat behind him for as long as you could remember, willingly dragged into whatever latest obsession caught his wild imagination. Whatever caught his eye became your shared world before you even had time to process it.
If a strange new snack appeared in your elementary school cafeteria, Shoyo was the first to buy it, and you’d be the one taking a cautious bite right after. Then came middle school, and with it, the sudden, consuming fire of volleyball. While everyone else brushed off his sudden obsession, you became his anchor. You spent sweltering afternoons holding worn, underinflated balls, helping him tie sagging nets to rusted poles, and tossing to him until your arms went numb just so he could fly.
When you both hit high school and his drive to play transformed into a commitment to pursue volleyball as a career, it was sort of an inevitability. It was impossible not to get swept up in Shoyo’s momentum because he didn’t just have passion playing the sport he loved, he burned with it. And you knew better than most that when a star burns that brightly, everything around it gets pulled in.
But what you didn’t know that years later, your college degree and his dream to become a renown athlete would carve out vastly different lives for the both of you.
Twelve hours of separation meant that even the sun couldn’t shine on you both at the same time anymore. While you were bleary-eyed in an 8:00 AM lecture in Tokyo, Shoyo was collapsing into his bed in Rio after a long day of deliveries and beach volley. Your days became a patchwork of missed calls and delayed voice notes, and you were still struggling to get used to the distance, to all these changes that came barreling into your lives unannounced.
Your existence had always been measured in the space you shared. But now, every interaction had to be calculated across time differences. You would always catch yourself reaching for your phone at odd hours just to check his local weather, staring at the little clock widget on your screen, and realizing that the boy who used to fill every corner of your daily life was literally living in your yesterday. You missed the noise and the effortless ease of his presence, but more than anything, you missed the simple warmth of being anywhere within his reach.
Yet you never let it deter your friendship.
Between your exhausting university schedule and late-night shifts, you had managed to stack away a modest savings account. You hadn’t really known what you were saving for at first—maybe just a safety net. But maybe a quiet piece of your heart already knew. This space between Japan and Brazil was the farthest you had ever been from your best friend, and it cost nothing to daydream about crossing that distance every now and again.
But when Shoyo half-jokingly suggested that you fly out to visit him in Rio on one of your weekly phone calls, you didn’t even weigh the cost or overthink the logic. You simply opened the most affordable airline tab and booked the ticket, instinctively following the same pull that had guided your entire life.
That was how you ended up in Copacabana during summer break.
It was your first time on an airplane, your first time out of Japan, and traveling completely alone in a country where you couldn’t speak Portuguese—and barely managed English—felt like stepping onto a completely different planet. Anxiety clawed at your chest while you clutched your carry-on and suitcase questioning every life choice that had brought you across the world.
That panic vanished the second you caught sight of him standing by the crowd, waving his arms so wildly he nearly hit a passerby.
“Over here!”
Shoyo’s familiar voice cut straight through the roar of the city. He practically sprinted towards you and launched himself into a hug, lifting you off your feet before you could even set your bag down. He was over the moon with a grin so wide, his eyes crinkled into bright crescents. It took mere moments for him to start babbling a mile a minute about how he couldn’t believe you were actually here, and that he couldn’t wait to start showing you around.
“You always this enthusiastic when you have guests over, Sho?” you teased.
His grin only spread wider. “Yeah, but even more so when it’s you!”
…How could you ever hold up against this guy?
Once Shoyo set you down and took your luggage, you finally had a chance to look at him properly. It was jarring to see how much the months had reshaped him. He was taller, his broad shoulders easily carrying your carry on as he wheeled your suitcase, and his skin radiated a deep tan from endless hours spent under the blazing sun.
For a moment, a quiet knot of worry twisted in your stomach.
What if too much time has passed? What if we don’t fit together like we used to?
“Oh, by the way!” Shoyo piped up, glancing back over his shoulder as he navigated through the swirling crowd. “There’s this restaurant I really want you to try after we drop your stuff off at my place. I just know you’ll love it!”
Your heart did a traitorous flip right against your ribs.
It was such a simple, characteristic gesture from him—the same old desire to drag you into whatever new thing he’d found with unbridled enthusiasm. But standing beside him now under a rake of afternoon sunlight, an uncomfortable knot began to tighten in the pit of your stomach.
It wasn’t a bad feeling, exactly, but it certainly was jarring. For years, you had known the exact shape of your friendship. You’ve never thought of Shoyo as anything tother than your best friend. Yet looking at him right now, hearing the eager thread in his voice while feeling the unfamiliar pulse in your own chest, the ground beneath you felt just a little less solid.
“You really haven’t changed at all, have you?” you managed to say, offering a soft laugh.
“What do you mean?” He blinked, tilting his head with an openly honest expression that suddenly made him look far too close for comfort. “If I find something awesome, of course you’re the first person I wanna show it to!”
He said it so easily, completely unaware of the subtle gravity pulling at the edges of your chest. As you followed him down the sun-drenched avenue, you couldn’t quite shake the uneasy sense that something fundamental about your once easily-defined friendship was being uprooted.
Rio de Janeiro was unlike anything you had ever known back in Japan.
Where you’d gotten so accustomed to quiet neighborhoods and soft-spoken crowds, Brazil was teeming with vibrant energy that seemed to pulse straight up through the pavement. The seaside town Shoyo had chosen as his temporary home was a riot of color. It was loud and beautiful and most importantly, brimming with life around every corner. Looking around, you instantly understood why he fit in so seamlessly.
As you walked, Shoyo greeted locals with an effortless familiarity, trading quick, lively phrases in Portuguese while gesturing wildly with his free hand. Every person he passed regarded him with the same open warmth, shouting greetings across the street or waving from open store windows. A few even called out a distinct nickname (“Ninja Shoyo!”) which made him scratch the back of his neck and shyly tell you that it was a moniker he’d somehow earned while playing volleyball on the public beaches.
“How did you manage to make everyone love you so fast?” you asked, genuinely amazed as a fruit vendor tossed him an orange with a grin.
Shoyo caught it easily with one hand before offering a sheepish smile. “Well, delivery work might not pay much, but it definitely has its perks! You meet pretty much everyone in the neighborhood after a couple of weeks. Plus, you get to know your way around.”
Your best friend said it all so matter-of-factly, like being amicable towards a whole neighborhood several thousand miles from home was completely normal. You couldn’t help but admire him in silence. Shoyo had moved halfway across the globe entirely on his own, yet he had built a whole world here through warmth and persistence.
Your thoughts were cut short when a group of tall, sun-baked guys in beach attire spotted Shoyo from across the boardwalk. They shouted something enthusiastic in Portuguese, waving him over toward the sand and making spiking motions in the air. You fully expected him to drop your luggage somewhere, grab your hand, and drag you straight to the beach to watch him play. Instead, Shoyo offered them an apologetic smile, and held up a hand in a polite passing gesture.
He smoothly steered you further along the boardwalk, leaving a dozen questions forming in your head. When you finally reached a scenic railing overlooking the sweeping expanse of the shore, you couldn’t keep quiet any longer.
“Why’d you turn them down?” You raised your brow. “Since when do you pass up a chance to play?”
Shoyo turned to face you slowly, his grin softening into something that carried a decade and a half’s worth of sentimentality. “My best friend is here. Of course I’m giving her my full attention! Besides, I’m not scheduled to play until Thursday, so they can wait.”
You snorted, a disbelieving laugh escaping you before you could stop it. “You? Waiting for a schedule? That’s definitely not what happened when you crashed that training camp at Shiratorizawa.”
A sudden flush crept up Shoyo’s neck, painting his tanned cheeks a bright, dusty pink at the reminder of his more reckless high school years. “Ah—hey! That was totally different!”
Without thinking, he sheepishly reached out and wrapped his fingers around your wrist, tugging you gently in the direction of a colorful storefront further down the path that looked like an arcade. As he pulled you along, babbling excitedly about the prizes inside despite still lugging around all your luggage, your eyes dropped to the place where his calloused hand encircled your skin. His touch was undeniably warm, sending a persistent spark right through your pulse point. You forced a small smile as you tried your absolute best not to dwell on how right it felt.
Or how terrifyingly hard it was becoming to pretend it was just a friend holding your hand.
The sun was already dipping toward the horizon by the time you finally made it to his front steps, painting the sky in brilliant streaks of violet and gold. You were utterly exhausted, but your heart had spent the last several hours floating somewhere near the clouds.
Shoyo had dragged you and your week’s worth of luggage through every spot he could think of. You browsed through tiny gift shops and record stores, cheered him on when he caved and played one match against those volleyball guys at the beach, and stopped at a roadside stall for acai bowls topped with fresh fruit, washed down with sweet coconut water straight from the shell.
Sitting across from him and catching up felt so effortlessly familiar. It was the exact same routine you’d shared back home after long school days in Karasuno, right down to the way he gestured with his spoon when he got too excited. You had been so thoroughly wrapped up in his presence that you almost completely forgot about the heavy suitcase still rolling behind him.
When you finally reached the tiled porch of his humble, slightly worn apartment complex, Shoyo came to a sudden stop. He set your bags down as he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck, a sheepish, apologetic look washing over his face.
“Sorry for keeping us out so long,” he sighed. “I... well, I actually have a roommate since I can’t afford to pay off the rent all on my own. I just didn't want to crowd you while he was getting ready.”
He held up his hands, tumbling over his words in a rush to reassure you. “I-it’s okay though! Pedro just needed most of the afternoon to pack his stuff so he could go back to his hometown for break. He’s a college student, too. I’m pretty sure he should be gone by now.”
Your best friend looked so genuinely anxious about inconveniencing you, his big brown eyes wide with worry that he had somehow let you down on your very first day. You couldn’t help the quiet laugh that escaped you. Shaking your head, you reached out and lightly nudged his arm.
“Sho, I’m your best friend,” you reminded him with a playful nudge to the ribs. “You don’t have to act all shy about this. I don’t mind, really.”
The tension seemed to ebb from his shoulders just a bit. He didn’t look completely at ease just yet, but he led you inside of the building and up to a run-down elevator anyway.
As the lift slowly clanked its way up to the third floor, you were too consumed by the creeping weight of jet lag to notice Shoyo's uncharacteristic silence. The initial adrenaline of seeing him again was finally wearing off, leaving behind a dull ache in your muscles and a haze in your mind. All you could think about was peeling off your travel clothes, standing under a long, hot shower, and flopping onto a real bed for a quick nap.
Shoyo slid the key into the lock, giving the slightly sticky handle a familiar jiggle before pushing the door open.
“Here it is!” he announced softly, stepping inside first to flick on the lights.
You followed him across the threshold, taking in the small studio apartment. It was modest and simple—a compact kitchenette tucked against one wall, a tiny wooden dining table, and large windows that let in the fading twilight. But your eyes immediately landed on the sleeping area.
There were only two single beds in the entire room, separated by a narrow nightstand.
Reasonably, it wasn’t an issue. You had seen plenty of tiny, cramped apartments back in Tokyo that were half this size. But with the knowledge that his roommate had just packed up and left for the break fresh in your mind, your brain was far too quick to process the math. Pedro was gone. Which meant one of those single beds belonged to Pedro, and the other…
Shoyo, entirely oblivious to the absolute tailspin happening inside your head, wheeled your heavy suitcase into the corner. He set your carry-on down on the wooden floor with a sheepish smile as he turned back to face you.
“Sorry it’s a bit small,” he sighed. “But make yourself at home! It’s all yours for the week.”
The rest of the evening settled into an easy rhythm that helped soothe your buzzing nerves. While you took a long shower to wash off the grime of a twenty-hour travel day, Shoyo ordered takeout from a local spot down the street. Soon enough, you were sitting side-by-side on his bed in your softest loungewear, sharing a warm box of coxinhas and watching a live stream of an international match on his propped-up laptop.
It was Argentina against France, and the second a familiar, wildly tall setter appeared on the screen to deliver a blistering jump serve, Shoyo practically bounced off the mattress.
“Look! Look! It’s Oikawa-san!” he practically shouted, pointing wildly at the screen while chewing. “He’s playing in the top league here in South America! Isn’t that insane?!”
Listening to him breakdown every play with his usual chaotic sound effects was so comforting that the strange knot in your chest finally began to loosen. By the time the match ended, the exhaustion you’d been fighting off all day began to pull you under.
Going to bed was a blur of quiet routine—brushing your teeth at the tiny bathroom sink together and turning off the main lights until only the golden glow of the streetlamps outside filtered through the blinds. Just as you were about to make a beeline towards the other empty bed across the room, Shoyo cleared his throat.
“Um… hey,” he started, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked down at the floor. “Is it… okay if you share my bed with me? Pedro’s a really nice guy, but he’s super particular about his stuff and his bed, so I kinda promised I’d leave it untouched while he’s away.”
He looked up at you with a nervous look, clearly terrified he was putting you on the spot. Your heart instantly kicked into overdrive, hammering against your ribs a million miles an hour.
“Oh! Yeah, of course,” you forced out, playing it off with the most breezy, casual shrug you could muster. “That’s totally fine. I don’t mind at all.”
Shoyo let out a soft sigh of relief, offering a warm smile before insisting you take the side closer to the window where the ocean breeze came through.
Even so, lying down under the thin sheet together felt entirely different from those childhood slumber parties. Back in elementary school, you used to pile onto the same futon without a second thought. But now, as you lay rigid under the covers, every inch of your body felt hyper-aware of the zero space between you. You could feel the radiant heat rolling off him, hear the steady rhythm of his breathing, and smell the faint, clean scent of his soap.
You shifted carefully, turning onto your side to face him.
Shoyo was already fast asleep, one arm tucked under his pillow, his face soft and completely relaxed in the dim light. The usual restless, fiery energy that drove him all day had settled into something deeply peaceful. Watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the stiff tension in your own muscles slowly melted away.
As you drifted off to the soothing sound of the distant ocean tide and the steady rhythm of his breath, the lingering anxiety of the day completely vanished. Looking at him resting just inches away, you just felt impossibly lucky to be the one lying this close to the sun.
You didn’t really have much of an itinerary despite this being your first time traveling.
In the days leading up to your flight, Shoyo had kept insisting that the two of you write out a strict, day-by-day plan so you wouldn’t miss a single thing. But you had just laughed and told him that your best memories together had always happened when things were spontaneous.
That was how you ended up sitting on the beach so early the next morning. You assumed the shore would be practically deserted at six in the morning, but to your surprise, a small, bustling crowd was already scattered across the sand. From ladies following a joint exercise routine along the boardwalk, to young families building towering sandcastles near the gentle lap of the tide, to a group of teens already diving for a ball over a makeshift volleyball net—the coastline was already vibrantly alive.
After grabbing a couple of fresh sandwiches from a nearby convenience store (which Shoyo had proudly declared the breakfast of champions) the two of you settled into a cozy spot under the generous shade of a towering palm tree.
Right beside your spot was a kind, elderly man setting up a vibrant display of bright beach inflatables. The moment he spotted Shoyo, his face lit up, and he called out a warm greeting you couldn’t quite translate on your own just yet. Shoyo was instantly on his feet, responding with his usual peppy enthusiasm and a broad wave.
Then the vendor turned his attention to you. His eyes softened, and he gestured gently in your direction, repeating the word “Namorada?” with such an approving smile that you would have assumed he was simply offering a polite compliment—had Shoyo not cut in all-too fast.
A rosy flush instantly surged up Shoyo’s neck to the tips of his ears. He scrambled over his words, waving his hands frantically as he explained something in rapid-fire Portuguese, practically tripping over his own tongue in his eagerness to clarify. Upon hearing whatever flustered explanation Shoyo offered, the vendor simply nodded in easy understanding. He gave your best friend a reassuring pat on the shoulder and went back to his shop, though the knowing, lopsided smile on the old man’s face didn’t fade in the slightest.
Shoyo practically collapsed back onto the beach towel beside you, letting out an unnaturally high-pitched laugh as he unwrapped his sandwich.
“What was that about?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at his wildly blushing face. “What did he say?”
“Uhh, nothing! Carlos was just surprised I had a guest is all.”
You made a mental note to look up namorada for later.
Once the last bite of his sandwich was all gone, Shoyo immediately began rummaging through your shared backpack, pulling out a bright blue bottle of sunscreen. You curiously peered over his shoulder as he popped the cap. “Isn’t there a rule where you’re not supposed to swim until at least twenty minutes after eating or something?”
Shoyo flashed you an eye-crinkling grin, already squeezing a generous dollop onto his palm. “Nah, that stuff’s just a myth! Come on, I’ll put some sunscreen on your back before we take a dip!”
At first, you didn’t think much of it—it was a practical request, and you’d helped each other out with sunblock on hot summer days plenty of times before. You untied your sheer cover-up, letting it pool around your waist, leaving only the thin straps of your frilled bikini exposed to the morning air.
Then you felt his hands touch your skin.
His palms were broad and firm, thoroughly calloused from years of playing volleyball religiously. Even if you’re certain he didn’t mean to, Shoyo made every careful sweep of his hands feel intensely intimate. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying desperately to suppress a squeak as he smoothed the cool sunscreen over your shoulder blades, his thumbs trailing down the dip of your back with gentle pressure.
It’s just Shoyo, you silently repeated like a mantra, staring intently at the sand between your knees while your face burned hot enough to cook an egg. Your best friend.
Thankfully, Shoyo seemed completely oblivious to the internal meltdown you were experiencing, far too engrossed in telling you a story to notice how stiff you’d gone under his touch.
“Man, the first time I tried playing beach volley out here, I was way too excited to even think about sunblock!” he chattered away, his hands moving to rub the sunscreen evenly over your shoulders. “I was out on the sand for like four hours straight. By nightfall, I was so bright red I looked like a boiled lobster! I literally had to slather my entire body in aloe gel just to sleep. It was awful!”
You forced out a breathless laugh and nodded along as if you were paying complete attention to his anecdote. But deep down, you were losing your mind.
The boy who had left Miyagi a year ago had become a young man whose warm, calloused hands were currently gliding across your bare back with innocent care. When he finally clapped his palms together to shake off the excess liquid, announcing he was all done, you practically scrambled to pull your cover-up back over your shoulders, praying the ocean breeze would cool down your flaming cheeks before he looked you in the eye.
“Great! Now it’s my turn!” Shoyo chirped, handing you the bottle before casually tugging his shirt over his head.
You nearly choked on your own breath.
Without a trace of hesitation or self-consciousness, he sat down in the sand with his back to you, completely unbothered by the fact that he had just handed you a front-row view. The endless months of grueling beach volleyball and daily delivery rides across Rio had forged his body into something absurd. Even with his height, Shoyo’s back was broad and lean, the sharp definition of his shoulder blades moving beneath sun-bronzed skin that practically glowed in the morning light.
You stared at the bottle of sunscreen in your trembling hands, wondering how on earth you were supposed to survive applying sunscreen to that without your heart bursting right out of your chest.
By some miracle, you made it through the ordeal without hyperventilating, and once you finished, the two of you immediately ran down to the water, diving into the cool, crystal-clear waves of the Atlantic.
Floating in the gentle tide beside Shoyo made all your lingering nervousness wash away. The water was refreshing, the morning sun felt amazing, and for about half an hour, it was just the two of you splashing around and laughing like you were kids back in Japan again.
Then a loud shout echoed from further down the shore.
“Ei! Ninja Shoyo!”
A tall guy in board shorts was waving frantically from a court setup in the sand, flanked by three other players who were gesturing for Shoyo to come over.
“Is that the group from yesterday?” you asked, wiping sea water from your eyes.
“Nope, these guys usually play near the pier!” Shoyo grinned, treading water beside you with effortless ease. “I met them a few months ago during a delivery! Told them they might like playing on this beach better.”
You shook your head, a fond smile breaking across your face. “Honestly, Sho... you really have a talent for making friends everywhere you go.”
“Yeah, maybe,” he said softly as his voice cut clearly through the sound of the crashing waves. “But none of them hold a candle to my best friend.”
As if it was somehow trained to always have ridiculous reactions to Shoyo’s otherwise innocent words, your heart makes a full somersault right against your ribcage. You opened your mouth to say something to cover up the sudden catch in your throat, but the ever-oblivious Shoyo was already grinning again. Before you could recover, he grabbed your hand in the water, pulling you toward the shore with a burst of laughter.
“Come on! I want you to watch me play!”
That’s how your trip became defined by a definitive cycle.
Every morning started at sunrise with the quiet crash of the tide, the cool Atlantic water washing away the heat of the coming day while you cheered Shoyo on from the sand. Whether he was playing two-on-two against the locals or tearing up the court with passing tourists, watching him leap against the horizon was as mesmerizing as it had always been.
By ten in the morning, however, reality would pull him away. Shoyo would pack up his sand-dusted gear, throw on his delivery uniform, and head out on his bike to work until five in the evening. He was practically sick with guilt over it every single day, practically bowing in apology before leaving.
“I’m so, so sorry!” he had groaned on the third day. “If I could skip, I would, I swear! But my boss is super strict and I really need the rent money—”
“Sho, stop,” you had laughed, gently pushing his shoulder. “I’m in Brazil! I’m not going to starve or get bored. Go to work.”
“If you get lonely, you can always go back down to the beach!” he urged, his eyes wide and sincere. “Everyone there is super nice. You’ll be totally safe!”
By your fifth day in Rio, you finally felt confident enough to take him up on that advice.
To help you out hen your human translator was making a living, Shoyo had spent every evening patiently writing down everyday Portuguese phrases in your notebook. The tutorials came with exaggerated hand gestures and a translation app he swore had saved his life when he first arrived.
Armed with your new vocabulary, you set off down the boardwalk on your own. It was surprisingly liberating. You managed to buy a few handcrafted souvenirs for your family, a wide-brimmed sun hat that matched your favorite sandals perfectly, and even discovered a tiny cart selling dragon fruit shakes in a spot so tucked away you were certain even Shoyo hadn’t stumbled across it yet.
Sipping the sweet, icy drink under the bright blue sky, you wandered aimlessly along the shoreline, watching the waves roll in, until a familiar row of colorful inflatables caught your eye. It was the same shop from your second morning. The elderly owner—Carlos, you recalled Shoyo mention—was just handing a cute, bright pink flamingo floatie to a young mother and her giggling toddler.
As the pair trotted back toward the ocean, Carlos turned around and immediately spotted you standing by the boardwalk. His weathered, sun-lined face broke into a broad, delighted grin, and he raised a hand, warmly waving you over.
“Bom dia,” you bravely told him with a wobbly smile, to which Carlos perked up and responded with a string of words that Shoyo hadn’t really covered in your Brazilian Portuguese crash course. That’s when you set your drink down on the wooden counter of his little shop and pulled out your phone to open that translating app Shoyo mentioned. “Uhh, trazudir?”
When Carlos nodded along, you tapped the voice recording icon and Carlos spoke into the mic as told. True to Shoyo’s word, the app was able to translate a bulk of what the elderly man just said into coherent Japanese.
“Didn’t think I’d see Shoyo’s guest all on her own here! Are you from Japan too, little miss? Did that rascal leave you to fend for yourself?”
You quickly adjusted the settings on the screen, switching the input to Japanese and the output to Portuguese. Holding the phone between the two of you, you spoke clearly into the microphone.
“He has work to do, so I really don’t mind! And yes, we actually grew up together. I came here to visit him once I managed to save up enough money.”
The phone played the translated audio back to Carlos in fluent Portuguese text. A warm look washed over his weathered face as he read each line before he tapped the recording button once more, speaking into the mic with a soft, teasing glint in his eyes. The Japanese text generated across your screen a few seconds later:
“Are you sure he’s not your boyfriend?”
Your heart gave a treacherous kick against your sternum. It took you a long moment to regain your composure, your thumb hovering over the screen before you finally tapped the button to respond.
“No, no,” you said, forcing your voice to stay completely even. “We’re really just best friends.”
It was the truth. It was the same answer you had given everyone who had ever asked since you were seven years old. But saying it out loud to an elderly stranger on a beach in Rio, after spending a week drowning in the warmth of Shoyo’s touch and the heat in your own chest, felt dangerously close to a lie.
Thankfully, Carlos didn’t press you. He simply chuckled—a soft, raspy sound that crinkled the corners of his eyes, and looked out toward the endless expanse of the ocean. He spoke into the app one more time. “I see. It’s just that seeing the two of you together reminded me of my wife and I when we were younger. She passed away a few years ago, so maybe I’m simply trying to see her in every young couple I encounter.”
Your cheeks flushed. “We’re not a couple.”
Carlos let out another rich laugh, waving a dismissive hand in the air. “That’s what they all say at first.”
Before you could scramble for another defense, the old man reached into his display rack and pulled out a bright, packaged inflatable—a cute yellow duck floatie—and pushed it across the counter toward you. When you tried to politely decline, waving your hands frantically, Carlos held up a hand to stop you, speaking into the app with a look of genuine sincerity.
“Take it. Consider it a thank-you gift for looking out for Shoyo after all this time,” the translation read. “I’ve seen that boy go through the lowest of the lows since he arrived in Brazil. While he’s been picking himself up better these days, he looks so much happier now that you’re here.”
You stared down at the packaged floatie in your hands, the lump in your throat making it impossible to speak right away. You managed a quiet, polite bow of gratitude before saying goodbye, clutching the inflatable tightly against your chest as you began the walk back to his apartment complex.
The sun was still bright overhead, and the ocean breeze carried the scent of salt and summer, but as you walked alone down the avenue, your mind was in a complete tailspin. Carlos’ words echoed in your head with every step, entangling with the memory of Shoyo’s calloused hands on your back and his sleepy smile in the dim light of his bedroom.
You had crossed an ocean just to see your best friend, but with every passing day, the neat, safe boundaries you had spent years building around your heart were completely crumbling away.
On your final evening in Rio, Shoyo made it a point to throw a proper send-off celebration. He arrived home carrying several bulging bags filled with an incredible spread of Brazilian food, declaring he was going to make sure you’d end up craving it the second you touched down back in Tokyo.
There were savory pastéis, juicy picanha skewers, pão de queijo, and an assortment of sweet brigadeiros for dessert. He’d even picked up several cans of cold beer, proudly bragging that his boss had been so pleased with his delivery stats that month that he’d given him a surprise bonus.
You spent the next few hours sitting on the floor by his low coffee table, stuffing yourselves with food until your stomachs hurt and laughing over silly stories that never seemed to run out. On any normal night, you would have paced yourself with the alcohol, but with your long flight back to Narita scheduled for late tomorrow evening, you figured you could afford to let loose just a little.
By the time the food containers were cleared away, the two of you had migrated to his small couch. You sat slumped together in the quiet dimness of the apartment, your legs casually tangled with his as you both worked through your nth can of beer. Both of your faces were flushed a deep, telltale red, a sweet haze of alcohol making the room feel warmer and the world outside feel pleasantly far away.
In the soft glow of the outside light filtering through the window, your eyes drifted over to his face, lingering a beat longer than usual. It was a habit you’d caught yourself slipping into all week whenever you got momentarily mesmerized by the vibrant orange of his hair or the sudden, golden shine in his dark eyes.
Carlos’ words floated back into your mind.
I’ve seen that boy go through the lowest of the lows...
You looked at the subtle set of Shoyo’s jaw, the faint exhaustion tugging at the corners of his eyes now that the day’s loud energy had died down. No matter how effortlessly he masked his struggles behind a megawatt smile, you knew him better than anyone. Moving halfway across the world, navigating a foreign language and a foreign city all on his own, and working exhausting delivery shifts just to afford a place to sleep while chasing a brutal training regimen—it had to be terribly lonely.
Slightly tipsy and completely disarmed by the proximity, you wanted nothing more than to reach over, pull him into a tight embrace, and whisper that he was doing so, so well. That he was amazing. That if it ever became too much, he could always come home.
But you held yourself back. Because as well as you knew his loneliness—how even his sun-bright spirit could be shrouded by heavy clouds every now and then—you also knew his heart. You knew there was nothing in this world Shoyo wanted more than to stand on the biggest stage, to become a player who could take on the world. This brutal heat was the fire forging him into who he was meant to be, and all you could do was stay close enough to keep him warm.
“You okay?” Shoyo’s voice suddenly broke through the quiet hush of the room. He turned his head on the back of the couch, his cheeks rosy from the beer as he blinked at you with a soft, curious gaze. “You’ve been staring at me all funny for a while now.
That’s when you noticed how close you really were.
With his head turned toward you, your faces were only a few inches apart. You could feel the steady warmth of his breath against your cheek, catching the faint scent of beer lingering on his lips. His eyes were heavy, fixed on yours with an open, unshielded intensity that made your pulse hammer wildly against your ribs.
Your gaze traitorously dipped down, fixing on his mouth—on the soft swell of his Cupid’s bow and the rosy hue of his lips in the barely there light.
The alcohol coursing through your veins made every warning bell in your mind sound faint and distant. Every ounce of self-preservation you had built over the years was evaporating into the warm night air. You were leaning in—just a fraction of an inch, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm—on the absolute precipice of making a decision that would change the trajectory of your entire friendship.
Then Shoyo’s eyes suddenly went wide as saucers.
His face paled, his hand slapped over his mouth, and before you could even register the sudden shift in his expression, he abruptly lurched to the side of the couch—
And threw up all over the floor.
The departure terminal of the airport was a chaotic flurry of honking taxicabs, rattling luggage wheels, and tearful goodbyes. As you stood on the sun-drenched sidewalk, the humid evening breeze whipped through your hair alongside the rumble of idling engines.
You and Shoyo had both implicitly agreed to never, ever speak of The Incident again the second the mop was put away last night. He had spent the entire morning apologizing about it profusely, but you had just waved him off with a laugh. It was gross, sure, but it was just another ridiculous core memory to add to the endless pile you’d collected since childhood.
“You’re promising me right now,” you warned, poking his chest as you stood beside your wheeled luggage. “No more drinking past your limit. Ever.”
“I promise! I swear on my life!” Shoyo held his hands up defensively.
After a beat, your best friend stepped forward to wrap his arms tightly around your shoulders and bury his face into the crook of your neck. You held him back just as tenderly, resting your chin on his shoulder and soaking in the familiar warmth of his embrace one last time.
“Don’t you dare come back to Japan until you’re officially the best player in all of Brazil,” you murmured into his shirt, forcing a light tone to hide the sudden tightness in your throat.
Shoyo chuckled softly, his arms tightening around your waist for a brief second before pulling back just enough to look at you. “And what am I supposed to do if I miss you too much?”
You rolled your eyes, lightly punching his chest. “You’re so dramatic.”
He finally let you go, stepping back so you could grab the handle of your suitcase. You offered him one last smile, turned on your heel, and began rolling your bag toward the automatic glass doors of the terminal. Each step away from him felt ridiculously heavy. You made it about ten paces before your feet simply refused to move any further.
Without giving yourself a single second to overthink, you spun around and sprinted right back toward him.
Shoyo’s eyes went wide with confusion. “Wait, did you forget your pass—”
You grabbed his shirt collar, pulled him down, and pressed your lips directly to his.
You kissed him right in the middle of the busy sidewalk amidst the passing travelers. Shoyo went completely still under your touch, shell-shocked, his hands hovering uselessly in the air beside your shoulders. Before he could even register what was happening to react, you pulled back, your face burning like a furnace as panic briefly clawed at your chest. But when you looked up, the sight before you made your heart completely melt.
The dark red flush on Shoyo’s cheeks had spread all the way to the tips of his ears, and a dazed, completely helpless smile was slowly stretching across his face. His hazel eyes were wide, shining with an open tenderness that told you everything you had ever needed to know.
“You can always video call me, idiot,” you grumbled, readjusting the strap of your bag over your shoulder to cover your own burning embarrassment. “Let’s talk about… whatever this is later.”
Shoyo let out a breathless laugh, nodding frantically as he watched you turn around and go inside the airport for real this time.
People often said that the only true certainty in this world was that the sun would always rise again tomorrow. And as you walked toward your gate, crossing back to the other side of the planet, you realized your own certainty was just as simple—that no matter how many miles or time zones stretched between you, your place in this world would always be right beside him.
✦ afterword. if you follow me on my main, you'd know how much i love and cherish shoyo hinata of haikyuu fame, so seeing him on mel's wishlist had me over the moon! mel, it is an absolute honor to write for one of the characters we are both mutually batshit insane about, and i'm so so happy to have gotten you as my giftee! i tried to incorporate as much as i could from your wishlist into this fic, so i hope you like it!
thank you also to lale for organizing our bi-annual homework per usual! writing for others always feels much more fulfilling than writing for myself at times mwahaha! thank you also to the friends who have lent an ear when i was still putting this fic together (juni and ky ilysm)! i really wouldn't have been able to finish this without you guys GRAHHHHHHH
Hinata is vaguely aware of the stares he’s getting as he jogs up and down the shoreline, eyes scanning the sand as if he could spot buried treasure if he glared hard enough.
It’s a good day to be out here, he thinks. The sun kisses his tanned back while a breeze blows his hair across his forehead. Sand yields to his feet with each step, and a wave rolls in to hit his ankles, tugging him to see what the sea offers beyond the wet coast. Was there always this many rocks on the beach? If he weren’t on the lookout for ones the same shade as your eyes, would he have noticed how many reminded him of you?
“There’s no winner, Sho. I just want to see what we can find.”
“Hmm…alright! But watch, I’m still gonna find the best one.”
“Shoyo, I—okay, sure.”
Both of his pockets are slightly weighted—as evenly as possible, so he could stay balanced while jogging was his explanation of the physics to himself—and his palms carry a couple more rocks each.
There’s only a few minutes left before you promised to meet up again, and he’s determined to pick out the best from his search. Kneeling where he is, Shoyo empties his pockets, laying the rocks in rows across the sand for the best view.
His face is disproportionately serious for his goal, you’d think. His brows are furrowed and his lips are pursed, his left index finger and thumb rubbing his chin as he picks up each one and squints to examine them.
Too dark. Too light. The specks aren’t right. How did that one even get in his pocket? Too jagged or an odd shape—would you be offended if he showed you this? It’s about the colour, but what if you found the rock itself ugly? These were all important things to consider.
By the time he’s picked out his top rocks, time is up.
“Shoyo!”
Your voice rings clear in the air, and Shoyo turns to see you awkwardly making your way toward him, feet trying to find place in the sand. The rocks you’ve picked are hidden from view as you clutch them close to your heart, and excitement blooms in his chest.
“Y’find anything good?” he yells.
“Better than what you got, yeah!”
He grins at your taunt and moves to meet you halfway. “Oh yeah? Prepare to—no!”
“Sho?”
“Don’t look! Close your eyes!” he yells, panicked, after dropping a rock onto the ground then dropping another in shock.
“While I’m running?”
“Run backwards!”
“That is not safer!”
He scrambles to hide the rocks and whines your name as you laugh at him, slowed down by the need to take breaths in between.
And even as he pouts at how you’re still laughing by the time you reach each other, Shoyo thinks while he’s sure his rocks can’t be beaten, he’ll be a winner either way at the end of the day as long as it ends with you.
Would different Haikyuu characters be the big spoon or little spoon?
Blue Lock ver.
yet again incredibly self indulgent and I still can’t explain most of these it’s all vibes!! Also ngl I’ve rewatched Haikyuu already since finishing it I love it so much!! Also my requests are open for Haikyuu among other media if you enjoy this (—ᴗ—) I’m currently working on a bokuakakuroken x reader fic that will hopefully be posted in the next couple of days!!
January 2013, 11:04 am. Tokyo Metropolitan Gymnasium, Sendagaya, Shibuya, Tokyo Prefecture.
Part of Fading Sunlight
A Hinata Shoyo x childhood best friend!reader timeline.
↳ A collection of things that have happened, between you and the boy who taught you how to fly.
“Just cuz you ain’t out there on that court… doesn’t mean you’ve got any right to look away from it.”
- Coach Tanji Washijo, Haikyuu!! ch. 366
You had discovered when you were young that a nature documentary was a good way to pass the time on winter evenings when the frost made it too cold to go out and play. Watching scenes of the vibrant feathers of birds did wonders to lift your mood during the dreariest parts of winter, so you taped as many episodes when you could, filling up a DVR with the sounds of springtime.
One day, as you flipped through channels after school, you came across an ordinary recording of a fledgling robin. The video was crisp and clear, and you could count every feather on its body as it clung to the edge of its woven nest. You watched as it beat its short wings for balance before hopping into the air… and plummeting straight down into the grass below.
You held your breath. You knew by now that sometimes the little ones don’t make it. But this one popped back up again, struggling into an upright position and peeping softly. It tried again, twisting in the air for but a moment before crashing back down to earth, slipping on dew. The narrator spoke in a soft, raspy voice as the camera panned upwards, showing the sun setting above the tree. Night would bring new dangers unfit for such a small bird. Stray cats, foxes, eagles circling far above…
You never finished watching, but occasionally through the years, you wondered what happened to that bird out on the lawn. It would have been easy for that cameraman to stop their recording, capping the lens and turning away the audience to pick up the small thing and place it back in the confines of the nest. But even then, something in you knew that it wasn’t their place to.
+++
You think about that now as you grip your own camera, holding it steady as you record from the sidelines. The court is just far away enough that you can’t hear what is being said. All you can see is Hinata, struggling to stand upright as his hand slips on his own sweat, sending him sprawling back onto the hard, shiny floor.
On the bench, Takeda and Ukai exchange shocked glances. The former calls for a time out, and the latter motions to Kiyoko who grabs a thermometer from the team’s medical bag. Tanaka and Asahi gather him up, supporting him as they limp slowly to the bench.
Your heart stoops into your stomach and unconsciously, one of your hands lets go. The camera wobbles but stays upright. Brown eyes look up, wide and glassy, and they meet yours for just a second as they reflect stadium lights and confusion and a world of dreams slipping away from him.
The camera stares back.
He’s closer now, and you can see the desperation painted on his face. You hear him insisting, voice cracked and raspy. “I’m not hurt, coach! It’s not an injury! Please, I can still fly!”
It would be so easy, you think. To put down the shiny black box in your hands, sweltering and warm. Cap the lens and run over to him, grip his hands in yours and pretend that if you hide it from view, all of it will be over soon. Instead, you tangle your hand in the lanyard around your neck, pulling it taut against your nape.
To watch and witness a fall was the only kind of fairness a camera could provide.
| Notes: I was just bored as heck, and they might be out of character , I don't know. Also, is it just me who likes SMAU??? Like, I love all SMAU creators and content, this is pretty bad but lemme know if you want pt 2 !!
