#satori

resting in your lap is a notebook. it's small, with no lines, and currently filled with messy sketches and annotations of court positions.

thump. thump. thump.

the sound of ushijima wakatoshi's spikes hitting the floor sounds like a gunshot. every time his hand connects with the ball, you flinch, but your hand doesn't stop moving.

because most importantly, you're tracking the boy with the red hair.

tendou satori.

on the court, he's a nightmare. he moves with a strange, disjointed grace, his limbs long and birdlike. he doesn't follow the ball – he follows the person.

he watches the setter's fingers, the hitter's shoulders, the tiny glance of an eye. he's guessing the future, and usually? he's right.

you hold your breath as tendou jumps. he’s laughing, a sharp, jagged sound that carries over the screech of shoes. he shuts down a spike from the opposing team with a sickening slap of the ball against his palms.

"baki baki ni ore, nani wo?" tendou sings out, doing a little dance as his voice echoes off the high ceilings.

he's terrifying, you think, shivering as your pen scratches against the paper. how do we even begin to get past someone who reads minds?

you're so focused on writing down his movements that you don't notice the gym has gone quiet – the whistle has blown to signal a water break.

you keep your head down, obscuring your face, waiting for the squeaking of shoes to resume.

but no. the silence stretches. strange.

slowly and carefully, you tilt your head up just a tiny bit. down on the court, the shiratorizawa players are huddled around their bench.

all except one.

tendou satori is standing in the middle of the court, his hands on his hips. his jersey is dark with sweat, clinging to his lanky frame. he isn't looking at his teammates. he's staring directly up into the bleachers.

directly at the dark corner where you're sitting.

he doesn't say anything. he just tilts his head to the left. then to the right.

then, a slow, wide grin spreads across his face – the kind of look a cat gives a mouse that thinks it's hidden behind a single blade of grass.

your blood runs cold. you close the notebook with a soft thud.

he knows.

—

you don't wait for tendou to point you out.

you slip out of the gym through the side exit, your heart hammering frantically against your ribs. you feel like a criminal. if coach washijo finds out karasuno sent a manager to spy on scout their practice match, he'll have coach ukai's head.

as you reach the vending machines near the school gates, your hands shake as you search for some coins.

you need sugar. you need a distraction. you need to get on the bus and get back to miyagi before the guess monster decides to hunt you down.

you reach out to select a warm canned coffee, but before you can, a long, pale hand reaches past your shoulder and presses a different button.

chocolate ice cream.

the little plastic cup drops into the bin with a heavy clatter.

"you look like you're about to faint. coffee is too bitter for a spy, don't you think?"

you freeze. the voice is right in your ear – high pitched, melodic, and laced with a dangerous amount of amusement. you turn slowly, your back hitting the cold metal of the vending machine.

tendou is leaning over you, one hand propped against the machine, effectively trapping you. he’s still in his volleyball shorts and a t shirt, despite the chill in the air.

up close, he’s even taller. his eyes are huge, reddish brown, and fixed on you with terrifying intensity.

"i-i don't know what you're talking about," you stammer, trying to pull your hoodie strings tight. "i'm just a student. who, ah, wanted to watch your game."

"a student with very expensive taste in notebooks?" tendou reaches out, his fingers hovering just centimetres from your bag. "and a very familiar way of taking notes? i saw you at the inter high. you were sitting on the bench with the crows. the little manager who looks so serious all the time."

he reaches into the vending machine nook, retrieves the chocolate ice cream, and peels back the lid with his teeth.

"spying is forbidden, you know," he says, his voice dropping to a mock serious whisper. "coach washijo is a very, very grumpy old man. if he finds out the crows are sending spies.. poof. your team might get banned from practice matches for a long time."

you feel the color drain from your face. "please. it wasn't.. i just wanted to understand how you do it."

tendou stops licking the wooden spoon. he blinks, his expression shifting from amusement to genuine curiosity. "understand how i do what?"

"the blocking," you whisper, your voice gaining a tiny bit of courage. "everyone says it's luck or guessing. but you're too consistent. it's not a guess. it's art. i wanted to see the process."

the silence that follows is thick with tension. tendou stares at you, his eyes wide.

then, he starts to laugh. it's not the mocking laugh from the gym – it's something softer, more surprised.

"art?" he repeats, tasting the word. "nobody calls it art. they call it creepy."

tendou shoves the wooden spoon into the chocolate ice cream and holds it out to you, despite the fact that he's already licked it.

"eat," he says. "it's the best chocolate ice cream in sendai. consider it the price of my silence. you payed for it, after all."

you hesitate, looking at the spoon and then at him. "first of all, it's vending machine ice cream. and second of all, your silence?"

"mhm." he hums, leaning closer until your noses almost touch. you lean back instinctively. "i won't tell my coach that the cute manager from karasuno was here. i won't tell your coach you were 'studying' me. but.. you have to share this with me. and next time i'm in your neighborhood, you owe me another one."

"next time?" you ask, your heart doing a strange flip that has nothing to do with fear.

"don't sound so scared," he winks, his voice like silk. "it's a secret, right? a forbidden little truce. just between the spied and the spy."

you take the spoon, flip it so the ice cream is on the handle, and take a tiny, tentative lick. the cold chocolate that melts on your tongue is rich and dark.

you know you should walk away. you know this is a betrayal of the rivalry. but as tendou watches you, his eyes crinkling at the corners, you realise..

the guess monster isn't looking for a victim.

—

for the next week, you're a ghost. every time coach ukai mentions shiratorizawa's blocking, you feel a hot prickle of guilt at the back of your neck.

because you've been meeting up with tendou from shiratorizawa.

you have the notes – the most detailed observations anyone at karasuno has ever managed to get on tendou satori – but they stay tucked at the very bottom of your school bag, hidden under a pile of old math homework.

you can't bring yourself to hand them over. every time you try, you taste the lingering remains of chocolate on your tongue.

"y/n-senpai? you okay? you’ve been staring at that water bottle for five minutes."

you jump. nishinoya and tanaka are hovering behind you, their faces twisted with concern.

"i- i'm fine," you say quickly, forcing a smile. "just thinking about.. player rotations."

"so dedicated!" they cry in unison, but their energy feels so far away. your mind is still in that sendai parking lot, trapped between a vending machine and a boy with eyes like embers.

the 'next time' tendou mentioned comes sooner than you expect.

it's a tuesday evening, and a thick fog has rolled over karasuno. practice has just let out, and the air is crisp with the smell of autumn and musty rain. you're the last one to leave the gym, having stayed behind to double check the equipment list.

the walk to the school gates is quiet.

too quiet.

as you pass the bike racks, a familiar, tuneless humming drifts through the mist.

"baki baki ni ore.."

you freeze, and your heart does an annoying double tap against your ribs.

there, sitting atop a concrete wall near the entrance, is a lanky silhouette. he's wearing a thick, dark coat that swallows his frame, but there's no mistaking the shock of red hair or the way he swings his legs like a restless child.

"you're late," tendou says, jumping down. he lands silently, and saunters into the circle of light cast by a flickering streetlamp. "i was beginning to think the crows had eaten you alive."

"tendou? what are you doing here?" you hiss, looking around frantically. "this is karasuno territory. if daichi sees you–"

"he won't," tendou interrupts, leaning into your space. he looks different tonight. less like the 'guess monster' and more like a boy who's skipped class to do something he shouldn't. "he's already buying meat buns with the rest of the murder. i watched them leave."

he reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a small, foil wrapped square. he holds it out to you.

"what's this?" you ask, your voice barely a whisper.

"truffle," he says, his eyes gleaming. the chocolate kind not the mushroom "from the bakery near my house. they only make them on tuesdays. they're filled with sea salt and dark cocoa. better than the vending machine stuff."

you look at the chocolate, then at him, bemused. "you.. you came all the way to give me a truffle?"

tendou tilts his head, eyeing you with a mischievous grin. "is it working?"

"is what working?"

"the mystery," he says, stepping closer. you can smell the cold air on his jacket and a hint of something sweet. "i can see your brain working. you're trying to guess my motive. you're still trying to figure out if i'm a threat or a friend."

he takes your hand. his fingers are long, cold, and calloused from years of volleyball, and presses the truffle into your palm. he doesn't let go immediately. his thumb brushes over your knuckles, a slow, deliberate movement that makes your breath stumble.

"it's a secret," tendou murmurs, his voice dropping an octave. "that's the best part, isn't it? nobody knows i'm here. nobody knows we're talking. it's just us."

"and the chocolate," you add quickly.

tendou smiles smugly. "and the chocolate."

you're about to say something – you don't know what, maybe a thank you, maybe a plea for him to leave before things get complicated – when the sound of heavy footsteps suddenly echoes.

"hey! i forgot my kneepads in the gym!"

hinata's voice.

he's coming back, and he's not alone; kageyama's muffled insults are trailing right behind him.

panic flares in your chest, and you shove him away with a finger. "you have to go. now."

tendou doesn't look panicked. if anything, he looks thrilled. "oh? a chase? how exciting."

"tendou, i'm serious! if they see you with me–"

"hide me, then."

before you can protest, he’s pulling you behind the large equipment shed near the gates. the space is narrow, cramped, and smells of old wood and damp earth. he presses himself against the wall, and because the space is so small, you're forced to stand right against him.

his chest is so, so close to yours. you can hear his heart – it's fast, just like yours.

"shh," he whispers, his breath warm against the top of your head.

you can hear hinata and kageyama running past the shed.

"did you see that?" hinata asks, his voice fading as they get closer to the gym. "i thought i saw someone standing by the lamp."

"it's just the fog, boke. you're hallucinating. hurry up, i'm hungry."

the sound of their footsteps recedes. you stay frozen, your hands pressed against tendou’s chest to keep some semblance of distance. beneath the fabric of his coat, you can feel the steady, rhythmic beat of his heart.

when you look up, tendou is already looking down at you. the playful, jagged edge of his expression has softened into something heavy and unreadable.

his eyes trace the line of your face, lingering on your lips for a second too long before snapping back to your eyes.

"your heart is racing," he whispers. "is that fear, l/n? or something else?"

something else.

"i have to go," you breathe, but you don't move.

"i know," tendou says. but he doesn't go either.

he leans down, his lips brushing against your forehead – a ghost of a touch, so brief you almost think you imagined it. "see you in your dreams, little spy."

and with that, he strolls out, humming a soft tune like he belongs.

by the time you find the strength to step out from behind the shed, he’s gone. the only proof he was ever there is the slightest scent of chocolate in the air and the small, foil wrapped truffle clutched in your shaking hand.

you walk home in a daze, the chocolate slowly melting in your pocket.

this feeling.. it's supposed to be forbidden.

but the only thing feeling forbidden right now is the fact that you’re starting to want him to come back.

—

the official announcement of a practice match between karasuno and shiratorizawa jolts everyone wide awake.

"don't let them intimidate you!" daichi barks, though his own jaw is set tight.

you stand in the corner, clutching your clipboard so hard your knuckles turn white. your pocket feels heavy – the empty foil wrapper of the truffle is still tucked in your wallet.

it shouldn't be there. so why is it still there?

when the karasuno bus pulls up to the shiratorizawa campus, the grandeur of the school feels like a personal insult. it's too big, too perfect, too cold.

you step off the bus, eyes glued to the ground, trying to blend into the shadows of the tall players.

"look at those gates," hinata whispers, awestruck. "it's like a castle."

"it's a fortress," kageyama grunts.

tsukishima snickers. "haven't you been here before from when you went to spy on ushijima?" he says slyly.

you follow them into the massive gym. the sound of slapping – palms hitting balls – echoes through the hall. and then, you hear it. the humming.

tendou is leaning against the net pole, watching your team file in. he looks bored until his eyes find you.

for a split second, his mask slips. his eyes widen, a spark of pure heat flickering in them before he pulls his face back into a mocking grin.

"the crows are here!" he chirps, his voice loud enough to make tanaka bristle. "and they brought their little managers, too. how sweet. too bad we'll eat them all."

he looks at you and winks. it's so fast that if you weren't looking for it, you'd miss it.

—

the match is a bloodbath.

ushijima is a force of nature, but tendou is the one doing the psychological damage. he's everywhere.

every time hinata tries a new angle, tendou's long arms are already there, waiting. he's dancing, singing, and terrorising the front line.

during a timeout, you're handing out water bottles, hands trembling. you can feel tendou's gaze on your back. he isn't even hiding it anymore. he's standing near the center line, sipping water, his eyes tracking every move you make.

"l/n," ukai calls out, leaning over a white board. "did you get the timing on that middle blocker's jump?"

you open your notebook, the one you used to spy on him weeks ago. your notes are right there.

'tendou satori: jumps on the third beat of the setter’s breath. looks for the elbow drop.' idk wtf that means but it sounds cool

you open your mouth to tell them. this is the moment. this is what you're here for. you are a karasuno manager. you love this team. you want them to win.

aaand then you look up, and tendou is watching you.

he isn't smiling anymore. he’s just waiting. he knows exactly what's in that book. he knows you have the power to mess up his game.

a silent question hangs in the air between you: are you a spy, or are you mine?

"i.. i couldn't get a clear read," you lie, the words tasting vile in your mouth. "he's too unpredictable."

ukai sighs, frustrated. "damn. okay, we'll keep trying to pull him out of position."

you retreat to the bench, feeling sick. you've officially crossed the line. you didn't just keep a secret; you protected the enemy.

tendou watches you sit down defeatedly, an unreadable expression on his face.

—

after the match – a crushing loss for karasuno – the teams head to the bathrooms to clean up. you volunteer to take the towels to the laundry room in the back of the athletic wing, needing to be alone.

the laundry room is huge, filled with the roar of dryers and the smell of bleach, humid and dim. you lean your forehead against a cool metal locker, closing your eyes and rethinking your life decisions.

"lying is a very bad habit for a manager, l/n-chan."

you don't even jump this time. you just let out a shaky breath, murmuring against the locker. "you should be with your team, tendou. they're celebrating."

"celebrating is boring." he says, his voice coming from right behind you. he doesn't touch you, but you can feel the heat radiating from his body. he’s still wearing his sweat soaked jersey. "i wanted to see if you were going to betray me."

you turn around, your back against the lockers and smiling weakly. "i should have. my team is hurting because i didn't tell them what i saw."

tendou reaches out, pinning you between his arms. he leans in, his face inches from yours. the scent of sweat and that faint hint of chocolate from before fills your senses.

"why didn't you, then?" he whispers. his voice is low, stripped of its usual theatrics. "you could have been the hero. you could have broken my.. guesses."

"i don't know," you breathe, your eyes darting to his lips and away again.

"i think i know," he murmurs. he moves closer, the tip of his nose almost brushing against yours.

"it's because when we're in the fog, or in the laundry room, or at the vending machine.. there are no teams. there's just the monster and the spy. and the spy.. likes the monster."

you gulp, and tendou's gaze flickers down to your throat.

he doesn't kiss you. not yet. he just stays there, his breath mingling with yours, torturing you with the proximity.

he's waiting for you to close the gap.

he’s making you choose him again.

"we're going to get caught," you whisper, even as your hands reach up to grab the hem of his jersey.

"let them look," he says, his eyes darkening. "let them see, let them think what they want."

he leans down, his lips hovering a hair’s breadth from yours, when the door to the laundry room creaks open just a fraction.

"y/n? you in here? the bus is leaving!"

shit. it's sugawara.

tendou doesn't even flinch. he just looks at the door and then back at you, a wicked, beautiful spark in his eyes. he pulls back just enough and darts behind a row of hanging shiratorizawa jerseys.

karasuno and shiratorizawa. how fitting.

"see you at the finals," he mouths, a grin playing on his lips.

sugawara peeks in, looking confused. "y/n?"

"oh, hi. yes, sorry. i- im done now." you're very sure there's a rapid blush spreading across your cheeks now.

you scramble to gather the towels, your heart thumping so hard it feels like it might burst through your chest. as you walk out of the door and past sugawara, you keep your head down, praying he doesn't see the flush on your cheeks or the way your hands are still shaking from tendou's touch.

—

the atmosphere at karasuno changes after the shiratorizawa match. it's not just the loss - it's the way the air feels electric whenever you walk into the room.

you're careful. you're meticulous. you work twice as hard to fill water bottles and doing whatever you can to help, hoping that by overcompensating, you can bury the memory of tendou’s breath against your skin.

but it's impossible to keep tendou satori a secret.

it starts with a stray comment from hinata during lunch. "hey, did anyone else think that red haired guy was acting weird? erm.. tender i think was his name? like, weirder than usual?"

"he’s always weird," kageyama grunts, stabbing at his pork curry. "and his name is tendou."

"no, but... he kept looking at our bench," hinata continues, his brow furrowed. "not at us. at our managers. i saw him wink. it was like he was trying to put a curse on us through them!"

your heart stops. you keep your eyes fixed on your bento, your chopsticks frozen.

don't react. don't react. don't rea-

"he's a.. provocateur, hinata," suga says, though his tone is thoughtful. he glances at you, his kind eyes narrowing just a fraction. "he does things to get a reaction. it's best to ignore him."

you feel suga's gaze linger on you a second too long.

bonus "question. what's a provocateur?" "boke!" "high and mighty king, you don't know either." "shut up, saltyshima."

—

that night, your phone buzzes on your nightstand. you shouldn't have given him your number - you don't even remember the exact moment you did, perhaps it was scrawled on the back of that truffle wrapper - but there it is.

you don't reply. you shouldn't go. but as you close your eyes, all you see is red hair and a stupid grin.

fuck this.

—

saturday comes with a biting wind. the station is nearly empty, the lights flickering with a hum that matches the buzzing in your ears. you're wearing a long coat and a scarf pulled up to your nose, shivering from the cold.

tendou is already there, leaning against a pillar. he's wearing a hoodie and a beanie that covers his red hair.

when he sees you, he doesn't wave. he just pushes off the pillar and walks toward you, his stride slow and steady.

"you came," he says, his voice muffled by the wind. he's holding two cups of something, the steam curling into the chilly air.

"i'm an idiot," you mutter into your scarf.

"the best kind of idiot."

tendou leads you away from the station toward a small bridge that overlooks a frozen river. the city lights twinkle in the distance, reflecting off the dark water.

it's the first time you've been together without the threat of a volleyball hitting the floor or a coach shouting in the background. or anyone around, really,

tendou stops in the middle of the bridge. he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small paper bag, the smell of cocoa and sugar immediately cutting through the cold air.

"hot chocolate," he says, handing you a cup. "and a brownie. the lady at the shop said it was dangerously fudgy. sounds like us, right?"

you take the cup, the warmth seeping into your frozen fingers and thawing you out from the inside.

when you inhale, the cold air bites at your nose.

"tendou, i.. why me? really. there are plenty of people at shiratorizawa who would.. who would be easier than this."

tendou looks out over the water. for a moment, the playful mask is gone completely. he looks tired.

"shiratorizawa is a machine," he says quietly. "everyone there has a role. i'm the monster. we're not parts of a whole. each of us.. we are the whole. it's how washijo coaches us."

he turns to look at you, his eyes searching yours. "but you.. you were trying to take me apart and understand the pieces. you didn't look at me like a monster. you looked at me like a puzzle you were trying to solve."

tendou reaches out, his thumb catching a stray crumb at the corner of your mouth. despite the cold, his touch is warm.

"satori.."

you feel the wall around your heart crumble. you reach out, grab the front of his hoodie, and pull him down.

this time, there is no sugawara. there are no teammates. there is only the cold wind, the taste of dark chocolate, and the frantic, desperate press of his lips against yours. it's a messy kiss, full of teeth and suppressed longing. tendou groans, hands tugging desperately at your hips.

when you finally pull apart, both of you are breathless, your puffs of air mingling in the night.

"that," tendou says, his eyes blown wide, "was definitely better than any chocolate i've ever had."

you laugh, and lean in for another kiss.

but then, your phone vibrates in your pocket. over and over.

you pull it out, and your heart drops into your stomach.

there's a photo in the team group chat. it's blurry, taken from a distance - likely by a passerby or a student from another school. it's a photo of the two of you on this very bridge, silhouetted against the lights.

the caption from tanaka reads:

'guys.. tell me this isn't who i think it is.'

—

the walk back to the station is a hazy memory of terror. tendou sees your face drain of color before you even show him the screen. he leans over, his eyes scanning the photo in the group chat, and for the first time since you’ve known him, his expression isn't mischievous - it's sharp. defensive.

"that's.. a bad angle of my hair," he jokes, but his voice lacks its usual tease. his hand stays firmly on your shoulder.

"satori, they're going to hate me," you whisper, your thumbs hovering over the keyboard. "they won't understand. they're going to think i was feeding you secrets the whole time. they're going to think i'm the reason we.. we lost."

"let them think it," he says, his grip tightening. "their opinions don't change the stats. and the stats say you're the best manager they’ve ever had. their pride is just hurt, y/n."

but when you arrive at the karasuno gym the next morning, the heart feels like it’s being put through a blender.

the gym is silent. usually, there's the sound of shoes squeaking, balls bouncing, and everyone yelling. today, the team is huddled in a circle in the middle of the court.

daichi is holding his phone. sugawara is looking at the floor. asahi is fiddling nervously with his fingers. tanaka and nishinoya look like they've been told the sun isn't going to rise. kiyoko and yachi stand off to the side, whispering to each other.

at your trembling footsteps, they all look up.

"is it true?" daichi asks. his voice isn't loud, but it carries a weight that makes you want to curl into a ball.

you don't lie. you can't. "yes. i've been seeing him."

"the guess monster?" tanaka explodes, stepping forward. "the guy who laughed in our faces? the guy who tried to break hinata's spirit? you've been.. dating him?"

"it's not about the game, tanaka," you say, your voice trembling but steady. "he's not a monster, especially when he's with me."

"it is about the game when he's the reason we can't get a point!" kageyama snaps, his glare fierce and fiery.

sugawara finally looks up. his expression isn't angry - it's disappointed, which is way worse. "did you give him our data? the rotations? the quick attack timings?"

that hurts more than anything else. did they really think you'd do that? "no. never. i actually kept his data from you because i didn't want to choose. i chose neither of you. and in the end, i failed everyone."

you turn and walk out, leaving your clipboard on the bench. you don't wait for them to kick you out.

—

you're sitting on a bench in a small park near your house, watching the swings move in the wind, when a familiar shadow falls over you.

tendou doesn't say anything. he just sits down, much closer than he should, and hands you a small, warm paper bag. "ah- don't look at me like that. it's just a chocolate croissant this time."

"i quit the team, satori," you say, your voice cracking as you stare down at the bag.

"good. they were too loud anyway," he says, though his jaw is clenched. he looks at his hands - those long, talented fingers that have spent years blocking dreams. "my coach found out, too. he told me that if i see you again before the finals, i'm off the starting lineup."

you gasp, turning to him. "satori, no! you’ve worked so hard for this. it's your third year. you can't give that up for anyone."

"you're not anyone."

tendou turns to you, his eyes burning with a terrifying intensity. ""old man washijo's been losing his mind. told me im 'distracted.' hah! like i haven't been distracted since i saw you trying to hide a notebook behind a bag of chips. it's annoying, honestly. im supposed to be thinking about blocking, and im just thinking about what kind of chocolate you like."

he leans in, his forehead resting against yours. "i'm playing the finals. and i'm going to win. but i'm doing it as me. and after the whistle blows.. i'm walking straight to you, no matter who is watching."

your heart stutters in your chest.

—

the day of the prefecture finals is unlike anything you've ever experienced. the air in the sendai city gymnasium is vibrating. you're standing in the spectator stands, wearing a plain shirt, no longer part of the karasuno bench. it hurts to see them down there - they all look nervous, and hinata hums with energy.

and across the net, the white and purple wall of shiratorizawa.

tendou looks like a man possessed. he isn't singing today. he's focused. every block is precise, every movement calculated. he plays like he has everything to prove and nothing to lose.

it’s a five set marathon.

set one. 1:0. shiratorizawa.

set two. 1:1. karasuno.

set three. 2:1. shiratorizawa.

set four. 2:2. karasuno.

and when karasuno finally scores the winning point - the ball hitting the floor with a sound like thunder - the stadium erupts.

you watch as the karasuno players collapse in joy. you see the tears on daichi's face and you feel a pang of longing to be there, to hand them their towels, to share the victory.

but then, you look at the other side.

tendou is standing at the net. his head is bowed – his third year career is over. he's lost his final chance at nationals, and he looks so small.

washijo is shouting, screaming, at the team, but tendou doesn't seem to hear him. he lifts his head, his eyes scanning the thousands of people in the stands. he looks past the scouts, past the parents, past the screaming fans.

he finds you.

and despite the loss, despite the sweat and the heartbreak of the game, a slow, familiar grin spreads across his face.

he doesn't wait for the formal bows. he doesn't wait for his coach's permission. he vaults over the barrier, ignoring the gasps from the crowd and the confused shouts of his teammates. he runs up the stairs, taking them three at a time, until he's standing right in front of you.

the entire gym goes quiet. even the karasuno boys stop their celebration to look up.

tendou reaches out, his hands trembling slightly, and cups your face.

"i lost," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion.

"i know," you murmur, tears blurring your vision.

"i'm.. officially unemployed. do you still want a broke ass man?"

you don't answer with words. you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into a kiss that the entire prefecture can see.

below, you see sugawara nudge daichi. they don't look angry anymore. they just look tired, and maybe a little bit relieved. suga gives you a small, hesitant nod – the first step toward forgiveness.

but did you ever need it in the first place?

tendou pulls back, resting his chin on your head as the cameras flash and the crowd whispers.

"y/n?"

"yeah?"

"there’s a ice cream shop not far from here that stays open late for losers," he hums, his heart beating strong against your chest. "want to go see if they have our favourite?"

you laugh, wiping your eyes with your sleeve. "only if you're buying."

"always," tendou says, taking your hand and leading you out of the gym.

because naturally, your favourite is chocolate.

writing this made me feel some appreciation for tendou baki baki ni ore nani wo

dude ion even like chocolate ice cream MAYBE TENDOU CAN CHANGE MY MIND

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