Summary: You’re Karasuno's manager—and Oikawa can’t breath at the thought.
Warnings: fluff, Haikyuu x female reader, reader is Karasuno’s manager and ex-manager of Aoba Johsai, dramatic Oikawa and lots of fluff.
Characters: Karasuno and Aoba Johsai.
A/N: Thank you for the request dear <3.
The air smelled faintly of sweat and floor polish—as you entered the building. You adjusted your clipboard under your arm and tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear as you followed Daichi inside, Karasuno’s black jackets shuffling behind you.
“Manager, you good?” Nishinoya grinned, bouncing on his heels. “You look nervous!”
“I’m fine,” you said quickly, smiling. “It’s just…we’re up against Seijoh again.”
You didn’t mean it dramatically—but Tanaka immediately gasped.
“Again? As in…your Seijoh?!”
“Don’t say it like that.”
“You used to manage them!” Nishinoya whisper-yelled. “You’re a traitor!”
“Former employee,” you corrected flatly.
From the court, the sound of familiar voices echoed—sharp, lively, unmistakably Oikawa
And then, a voice you’d know anywhere.
“Ehhhh?~ Is that who I think it is?”
You froze before turning.
Oikawa Tōru stood just a few meters away, tossing a ball between his hands. His brown eyes lit up like a stage light as soon as he saw you.
“[Name]-chan?! It is you!”
Several of Karasuno’s players blinked in confusion as Oikawa broke into a jog toward you, grin wide and all charm.
You didn’t even get to answer before Matsukawa called, “Don’t steal her yet, Oikawa! She’s their manager now!”
“Steal?” Tanaka repeated, stepping forward. “Over my dead body!”
Daichi pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s been five minutes…”
Oikawa stopped in front of you, hands on his hips, mock-scolding. “You really transferred and didn’t even tell us? [Name]-chan, that’s so cold of you.”
You raised a brow. “I moved houses, Oikawa. I didn’t abandon a team in the middle of nationals. And you know that.”
Iwaizumi appeared beside him—exasperated but smiling faintly. “She has a point, you know.”
“Still,” Oikawa huffed, pouting dramatically, “I can’t believe you’d go from our bright blue to—” he glanced at your new jacket, “—black and pumpkin orange.”
Before you could reply, Hinata piped up from behind, “Hey! Our colors are cool!”
Kageyama frowned. “Yeah. They’re better.”
Oikawa smirked. “Ah, Tobio-chan. Jealous that [Name]-chan used to work with me?”
Kageyama’s frown deepened instantly. “I’m not jealous.”
You sighed. “Can we please warm up before someone dies of embarrassment?”
Oikawa only grinned wider. “Warm-up, yes—but [Name]-chan, maybe you could come over to our side for just a minute? For old times’ sake?”
Daichi’s polite but firm tone cut in. “Sorry but she’s with us now.”
“Daichi-san,” Oikawa said, smile sweet as syrup, “surely you don’t mind a temporary loan? We raised her first after all.”
“Like I’m some kind of stray cat,” you muttered.
Matsukawa and Hanamaki leaned in from Seijoh’s bench, whispering audibly,
“Think we can still bribe her back?”
“Bring snacks. Managers love snacks.”
Meanwhile, Tanaka and Noya looked personally offended.
“She’s our manager now!” Noya barked. “You had your chance!”
As both teams started their stretches, you could feel eyes darting toward you every few seconds—Seijoh’s with nostalgic mischief, Karasuno’s with protective gaze.
Oikawa still hadn’t stopped glancing over, that teasing grin never faltering.
And honestly? You could already tell—this “practice match” was about to feel more like a tug-of-war.
The whistle blew sharp across the gym.
Both teams lined up, bowing in that crisp, practiced motion.
Oikawa speech echoed across the court.
You took your usual place off to the side with Kiyoko, clipboard in hand, already jotting down serve rotations. Everything felt normal—until it didn’t.
Because halfway through Karasuno’s first rotation, Oikawa turned his head, mid-serve, and winked at you.
The serve still went in, of course—perfect form, perfect spin, textbook Oikawa—but Kageyama’s death glare from the other side could’ve cracked the floorboards.
Kiyoko murmured quietly beside you, “He hasn’t changed, right?”
You sighed. “Not one bit.”
Daichi clapped his hands once. “Focus, everyone! Don’t let Seijoh’s rhythm get ahead!”
Hinata nodded, bouncing in place. “Right! I got it!”
And for a while, the game was tight—quick, sharp sets, both sides setting at full pace. You could tell Kageyama wanted to prove something, his tosses snappy and precise.
But Oikawa—well, Oikawa was in rare form.
Between points, he somehow always found an excuse to look over.
At one point, while wiping sweat from his face, he called out,
“[Name]-chan! Don’t you miss being on the winning side~?”
You nearly dropped your pen.
“Concentrate on your game!” you yelled back before you could stop yourself.
Karasuno’s bench immediately erupted.
Tanaka was halfway out of his seat,“THAT’S OUR MANAGER, BABY!!”
Nishinoya, loud as ever,“SHE CHOSE US, PRETTY BOY!!”
Across the net, Matsukawa and Hanamaki snickered, doing exaggerated “ooh” faces.
“Man, Oikawa, rejected in HD.”
“Iwaizumi, tell your boy to stop embarrassing us.”
Iwaizumi gave a helpless sigh. “I told him.”
Still, the game stayed tight. Oikawa’s serves tore through the air, Karasuno’s receive line trembled but held, Hinata and Kageyama slowly syncing into their rhythm.
And through it all, the Seijoh captain kept up his ridiculous running commentary.
“Your rotation’s still too slow, Tobio-chan!”
“Nice receive, bald-kun—did [Name]-chan teach you that?”
“Oh, [Name]-chan, you’re glowing as always—ah, but, blue suits you better~!”
By the fourth rally, Daichi had had enough.
“Focus,” he said, voice low but firm. “Ignore them. They’re just trying to throw us off.”
You nodded, handing out towels. “He does this on purpose. He’s all talk until Iwaizumi hits him.”
That earned a small chuckle out of the team—tension cut just enough.
And sure enough, as soon as the whistle blew again, Oikawa called across, “You wound me, [Name]-chan! I’d never let Iwa-chan hit me in front of you!”
A pause. Then, from Seijoh’s bench:
“Wanna bet?” Iwaizumi muttered, cracking his knuckles.
Kiyoko, deadpan as ever, murmured, “You worked with this team?”
You sighed. “Yeah. They were worse then.”
But despite all the noise, there was an undeniable warmth threading through the chaos. The way Oikawa’s eyes softened when he glanced at you between plays—the quiet respect in Iwaizumi’s nod when he saw you cheering Karasuno—the nostalgia that sat heavy but sweet.
For all the rivalry, it wasn’t mean. It was… familiar. Like old friends arguing across a new divide.
Still, by the end of the first set, Oikawa had managed to:
piss two Karasuno first-years(Tsukishima and Hinata),
get smacked twice by Iwaizumi,
and make you yell his name across the court three separate times.
Which, in his mind, was apparently a victory.
As the set ended—Karasuno barely scraping the win—he walked past your side of the court, towel slung around his neck.
“Good work, [Name]-chan,” he said softly, the teasing gone just for a heartbeat. “Karasuno suits you. Really.”
Then, before you could reply, he grinned again—back to the Oikawa you remembered. “But don’t think I’m not trying to steal you back.”
You couldn’t help but laugh. “You can try.”
From behind, Tanaka yelled, “Over my dead body!”
Oikawa just waved cheerily. “Then start writing your will, #5~!”
You packed your notes, slung your bag over your shoulder, and followed your team toward the exit doors of Aoba Johsai’s gym—the place you used to walk through every day.
The second you stepped outside into the crisp air of their courtyard, you heard hurried footsteps behind you.
You didn’t even need to look.
He skidded to a stop beside you, slightly out of breath—probably from sprinting away from Iwaizumi’s glare.
“You really haven’t changed,” you said.
He pressed a hand to his chest dramatically.
“[Name]-chan! I came to say goodbye properly! I’m being sentimental here!”
You rolled your eyes, but you smiled.
He softened at that—really softened.
“You looked good today,” he said, voice dropping into something gentler. “Black…suits you.”
For a second, his eyes flicked to the orange-black group ahead of you—the loud first-years, the dependable upperclassmen.
“You’re happy,” he said, more to himself.
“Yes, I am,” you answered honestly.
He exhaled, hands sliding into his jacket pockets.
“Well…then I won’t kidnap you.”
You gave him a flat look. “Oikawa.”
He raised both hands. “Hey! I’m respecting boundaries!”
From the gym doors behind him, Matsukawa yelled, “Oikawa! Iwaizumi says if you don’t come now, he’s leaving you behind!”
Hanamaki added, “He also said you deserve it!”
Oikawa winced. “Ah. My tragic life.”
He took a step backward, still facing you.
“Take care, [Name]-chan. And if you ever miss us—”
“I’ll message you,” you said.
His smile widened—that bright, theatrical grin he always wore when he hid something genuine underneath.
“I was going to say “come back”, but this works too.”
He jogged back toward his team, yelling something about Iwaizumi being heartless.
As soon as he disappeared through Seijoh’s gates, a voice popped up right behind you.
They each hooked an arm through yours like overexcited guard dogs.
“You’re not allowed to talk to that captain without supervision!”
“We’re officially your bodyguards now!”
“You guys weren’t even listening,” you muttered—but you were laughing.
Hinata waved both arms wildly from ahead, “Hurry up! Ukai-san said we’re stopping for juice and meat buns on the way home!”
Tsukishima teased, “How much will you eat...a ton?”
Daichi sighed, but it was the soft, patient sigh he used when he was fond despite himself.
“Come on. Let’s head back.”
Kiyoko adjusted her bag and gave you a tiny, warm smile.
“You handled everything well today.”
You felt warmth bloom beneath your ribs.
Leaving Seijoh had been hard.
But walking out of their gym now—flanked by Karasuno’s noise, their energy, their absolute dedication to claiming you as one of their own—felt…right.
Tanaka swung your arm uselessly.
“We’re your number one team now, okay?!”
“SEIJOH CAN’T HAVE YOU BACK!”
Kiyoko murmured, amused, “Let’s go home.”
And down the slope outside Seijoh’s campus, with the sun setting behind the buildings you used to walk through, you let their chaotic warmth pull you forward.
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