Karasuno's first set with Nekoma that day begins with a bang.

Most volleyball games do anyway, Hitoka pushes the thought away as her face pales and her feet quickly take her to the middle of the court where Hinata is lying on his back.

The energetic boy had been sent sprawling to the ground after a midair collision with Asahi, ending the game precociously.

"Hinata!" the boy seems to have landed more on his right side than his left and his head had thankfully not impacted with the floor because of how he had unconsciously folded on himself, neck and arms bent a bit forward, "Are you okay? Can you stand-?"

The ball bounces off the polished floor a few times, tap, tap, tap, the sound echoing inside Hitoka's head.

Shōyō blinks dazedly, distantly hearing the frantic apologies of Karasuno's ace as if his head had been dunked underwater. Wide amber eyes peer down at him in fright, an array of light freckles coming into view once his vision clears up.

Even upside down, he recognizes the owner of such a face, of the hands that reach and tilt his head to the side softly to try and look for any sign of injury to his neck, "How's your shoulder? Hinata if you can answer me-"

"Wah! I'm sorry!" the boy abruptly sits up, bowing in the same motion and Hitoka swallows a scream, shuffling away.

She watches with furrowed brows as Hinata, who seems as unaffected by the fall as he could be, bows repeatedly under both teams' watchful stares.

On Nekoma's side of the court, the players seem torn between worry (read: Kenma and Yaku), and amusement (read: Kuroo and Lev).

Hinata's voice is louder than it needs to be, especially considering the deadly silence having swallowed the whole gym, "I was just staring at the ball and...and...I'm so sorry! Are you okay?! I'm so sorry-"

Hitoka blinks, exchanging a glance with a surprised, but contemplative Asahi, "I-I'm fine," when the first-year middle blocker does not stop his rambling, the upperclassman sends his littlest manager a truly pitiful look.

She feels for this gentle giant of a boy, truly she does.

But no amount of sympathy could give her a clue as to how to deal with the blabbering middle blocker, not when she usually was the one in his shoes.

"Ah...so you didn't hurt yourself?" Asahi nearly cries at her intervention, heaving a sigh when his bright-haired underclassman falls silent at long last, staring at Hitoka with a startling intensity.

Slowly, he shakes his head and is helped up by Karasuno's ace.

"Pay attention to your surroundings, you idiot!" there's an echo of insults from their teammates, coach Ukai repeatedly fanning himself as if trying to prevent himself from having a stroke.

Teenagers, what in the world had he been thinking?

Perhaps a better question would be what sort of illicit drugs had he been on when he'd accepted such an impossible task?

Hitoka coughs, drifting back to Kiyoko-senpai's side once the mortifying ordeal seems to be over with, "I'm glad he's okay," she whispers, nails digging into the flesh of her palms, "But what was that all about?"

"Hey," Hinata's voice cuts through the peculiar atmosphere, ignoring the way Nekoma is watching them with rapt, almost predatory attention, "I'll stop closing my eyes."

Kageyama startles, as if just now noticing his partner's insistent stare.

The third-year manager makes a sound out of the back of her throat, startling Hitoka only slightly less than Kageyama's terrifying expression does - the setter looks so profoundly insulted by Hinata's words, and his eyes narrow in a dangerous sort of way that has shiver runs down all of their spines.

The small middle blocker does not budge, "I can't stay like this and keep hitting quicks that are set just for me."

The game resumes, but not without the distinct feeling that something essential to Karasuno's team dynamic has shifted.

Yachi looks down at the bright, glittery constellations on the cover of her notebook and frowns.

She traces the stars that make Pegasus, trying to concentrate on the task at hand. She had spent a lot of time compiling data on Nekoma today, noting down everything she could think of whenever she had some free time.

But with so much to do, she hadn't managed to note down every successful point or block as she did with Karasuno the day before. It was to be expected without Kiyoko-senpai's ever-so-useful presence.

As if struck by lightning, the girl flips her notebook open once more and furiously starts to compile more general, non-quantitative data.

She charts down the attributes of each of Nekoma's players instead, ranging from positions to good and weak points, and who they often work in tandem with.

It wouldn't be enough, of course, but a few more tweaks and observations should be enough for her to whip up something interesting for one Kozume Kenma.

"Maa, little Karasuno-chan," coach Yasufumi Nekomata is a man whose mischievous gleam is only softened by the wrinkles around his eyes, "I'd almost think you're hoping to gather some intel for your team with how much you're writing."

"Oh," ok so maybe her intentions are not all that pure, "I'm still new at all this, I'm only trying to work out how the game is played."

Kenma, who was in the outer line of the court on Nekoma's side, sends her a dubious look which quickly shifts into amusement; she ignores it gracefully.

"Right," the elderly man snickers, wondering just where Karasuno had picked up this small, unassuming-looking menace.

Yachi's gaze unexpectedly sharpens as she looks back at the game in play, her tongue unconsciously poking out to moisten her lips when the ball abruptly tips over Fukurodani's side of the net.

She, like everyone else, had been so sure Kenma had been about to set the ball to one of his teammates in the back row only for the boy to promptly dump the ball on the other side himself.

Akaashi nearly manages to receive the ball, his upper body smacking against the ground painfully.

It takes her a few seconds the regain her bearings, changing the score hastily once coach Nekomata raises an expecting brow. It's sudden, the speed at which her mind whirls, "Wha...what was that?"

Coach Naoi sighs when Nekoma's senior coach smiles devilishly, "It's called a setter dump, one of Kenma's favorite moves."

It fits her impression of the boy like a glove; smart, sly, and not overly flashy.

A setter dump, she stores the information for later, trying to visualize once again the grace at which Kenma's arms had moved earlier, sending the ball right where he knew it would be out of reach of the other team before anyone had the chance to guess his intentions.

In a way, it was quite similar to the feints Kageyama was so fond of, setting to an unlikely spiker instead of the one that everyone had been led to believe.

It was the reason why the Kageyama and Hinata's freak quick attack worked so well, tricking the other team into thinking the ball would go one way, but sending it elsewhere.

Deception at its finest.

Yachi Hitoka knows quite a lot about sports, how can she not by now, and she has learned that strategy is always at the center of team sports.

This maneuver is a perfect example of just how intimately strategy plays in the position of setter, how every point goes back to which way the setter chose to play his cards.

If one were to look closely enough, it would be easy to catch a glimpse of the spiderweb of information reflecting in the girl's eyes.

"Cover!" Inuoka Sō, one of Nekoma's reserve wing spikers that she had been introduced to earlier, begins to chant as the end of the set draws near.

Hitoka's stomach flips on itself as the pressure of the game catches up to her.

Lithe fingers clench tightly at the spine of her notebook, one of her legs unknowingly bouncing up and down.

The sound the ball makes when it slams on Fukurodani's side of the court is deafening, and the blonde doesn't stop to think about her next actions. Sharing a smile with the lanky boy to her right, she screams out, "Nice kill!"

It gives several individuals whiplash, the speed at which they turn to look at Karasuno's tiny slip of a manager.

Unaware, the girl jumps up to her feet, spotting the Nekoma players closest to her and efficiently handing out water bottles with practiced ease, "Great job out there!"

Taketora doesn't seem like he's breathing once she gets to him, fingers tightly clutching at the volleyball that he had picked up once the game had ended. Hitoka pretends there's not a hint of unease within her at the intimidating picture this tall, pinched-faced boy makes.

"That last spike was amazing Taketora-san!" when his fingers do not wrap properly around the water bottle, the girl uses her own hands to adjust his hold.

The mohawk boy is in obvious shock, his blank face rapidly changing into a bright shade of red that has Hitoka wondering if he should take a small break if the set against Fukurodani had taken such a toll on him.

Behind them, Yaku sighs while Kuroo cackles so loudly he quite literally falls over.

"Pinch me, I think I'm dreaming," the boy mumbles, oddly touched by such a display from Nekoma's temporary manager, "We-we've actually got a pretty manager, all for ourselves."

There's an angry hiss from behind him, unheard by either of the two.

Hitoka, despite not hearing the wing spiker's exact words with all his mumbling, takes a step back at his eager facial expression.

Before Nekoma's libero can go over and kick at the back of his idiot teammate's knees, a threatening shadow suddenly draws itself behind the boy, looming.

"Funny, I don't remember getting that reaction yesterday, Tora," Yukie, who had coincidentally been passing by, says with a grin, "I would be very displeased for my efforts to help you bunch of lazy bums to be unappreciated, and even more so if anyone were to inconvenience Hitoka-chan."

There's an almost frightening edge to that lazy, carefree curl of full lips.

"Now now, I'm sure he didn't mean it like that..." it's Kai, sweet and gentle Kai who says this, taking pity on his underclassman, but not enough to defend him further when Yukie's sharp gaze meets his own - a wise man is a man who knows how to pick his battles after all.

Yamamoto slowly tries to inch away from Fukurodani's manager.

"Right," Lev Haiba, Nekoma's newest and scariest member says with eyes that are too sharp, despite the easy-going look on his face, "I'm sure Yamamoto only meant that he finds Yachi prettier than senpai!"

Silence suddenly overtakes the space they occupy, and Kuroo's face pales to a shade of unhealthy white from both shock and deep worry for the survival of this troublesome, moronic first year, "What an absolute moron."

Yaku nods, gaze shifting from the increasingly silent Yukie to a blabbering and blushing baby crow, "He and Tora both deserve what's coming for them."

"I'm sure that's not it!" Yachi's face is almost purple with embarrassment, "That couldn't be! Not with how beautiful Yukie-san is, no way! I'm sure Nekoma's just not used to having a manager they're unfamiliar with around, and, and-"

"Hitoka-chan," Yukie finally speaks, acidic glare meeting that of Lev who is still unaware of the danger he is in, "Don't worry too much, it's fine."

"Bu-but!"

Lev blinks when Fukurodani's manager stalks closer, that lazy smirk still present, "Eh?" he suddenly finds himself much closer to the girl's face, neck bent at an odd angle to accommodate the sudden tug on his collar and height difference.

His efforts to step away fail rather pathetically.

"I know you're still quite new to volleyball baby neko, so I'll let this one slide, but if I were you I'd be more careful with your words, and try not to cause any trouble for my Hitoka-chan. Don't forget who's making your meal tonight," Lev tries to escape her hold, arms flailing when he finds himself unable to straighten up because of her iron hold.

"Ok, ok I get it! I'm sorry!" Kenma takes a single, long sip of water, musing about terrifying managers and idiotic teammates.

Her point having come across clearly, Yukie releases the six-foot-something volleyball player, gently patting her fellow manager's heading back to Ubugawa's side of the gym, whistling under her breath.

Kuroo's laughter snaps her back into awareness, her cheeks still burning at the quite mortifying ordeal, "So, uhm, the set between Karasuno and Shinzen is almost over so do-don't overextend yourselves..."

This amount of dedication almost brings another wave of tears to Yamamoto's eyes, but the boy wisely keeps his thoughts to himself this time.

"Of course not Yachi-chan, no need to worry so much about us misfits," Kuroo says, dabbing at some remnants of sweat on his forehead with his towel.

"I'm pretty sure that's my job as a manager," the girl says, shoulders losing some tension as the discussion enters safer territories once again, "You guys work so hard on the court so I'm glad I get to help a little bit."

Hitoka almost screams when a too-tall figure walks right past her, an unnaturally long arm brushing against her own. Her eyes trail up with something like terror at the sheer height of Lev Haiba, the boy's eyes glinting with mischief when he catches her reaction.

Lev hums a bit, taking a seat on the bench next to Inuoka, "Man, managers sure are nice to have around, especially when they're as nice as Yachi-san! Yaku-san and the rest can be such brutes sometimes," the first-year, of course, would never have dared to utter such words was his senpai not in a passionate discussion with Kai a bit further away.

"Tha-thank you?" it comes out as more of a question than anything else, burning on the tip of her tongue.

She eyes the clock on the wall to her far right, deciding to ask what is on her mind when she sees there is still a few minutes left before the next set.

"Why don't you, have a manager I mean?" her eyes seek Kuroo's, deeming him the most likely to have an answer to satisfy her, "Nekoma's volleyball team is pretty well-known in your area, recruitment shouldn't be too hard."

"Ah, well..." the girl's head tilts when he looks away, rubbing at the back of his neck, "We did use to get some applications once in a while, but they never stayed long, and now people don't even bother trying out."

So then it was a case similar to Karasuno's, where other students were intimidated by the reputation of the volleyball team and the workload that would fall upon their shoulders.

Yachi never had to worry about such things, having been roped in being a manager by Momoi and Aomine before she could fully comprehend all the work managers had to do and just how troublesome teenage boys could be when they were left to their whims.

"I see," she hums thoughtfully, lips pursing, "I guess that with no third-year manager to make sure the mantle is passed on, you guys were left to yourselves to try and recruit, doesn't that give you guys some additional work though, not having a manager around?"

Kuroo shrugs his shoulders, glancing at her, "I guess, but the coaches help out a lot and we split the chores between everyone. Besides I wouldn't know since Nekoma's last long-term manager graduated the year right before I entered High school."

"That's a very responsible way of looking at things," she comments, smiling slightly at the third year, "Well that's not surprising, you are the captain after all."

Despite his mischievous streak and laid-back attitude, she can see why Kuroo earned such a position.

The way he always watches over his teammates when he thinks no one is watching is something she knows Daichi does often, and he's got this charisma that people in positions of authority often rely on.

Charisma Hitoka could only ever dream to project, in a parallel world where she was not as crippled around other people and able to express herself clearly with pretty words.

"Don't think too highly of him now," Kenma sighs, sending his childhood friend a curious glance when he notices the blush that dusts the taller boy's cheeks, "Kuro thinks he's so cool, but he's the biggest nerd out of all of us."

To think he always try to be so cool, the utter sap.

"Oi Kenma!" the boy's pudding-like hair is ruffled harshly, Kuroo's forearm wrapped threateningly around the smaller, thinner boy's throat, "Don't go spreading around-"

Before the two can argue further, or rather before Kuroo can bully his friend some more, coach Nekomata clears his throat pointedly, jerking his chin in Shinzen's direction.

The team had just won its set against Karasuno and with their five-minute break over, it meant it was now time for Nekoma to get back to practice.

Wordlessly, Kuroo releases his victim as the head coach enumerates a few changes in the lineup for this next practice match, namely switching out Fukunaga for Inuoka and putting Kenma in the front row for the start of the set.

Kenma spits out strands of bleached hair, sending a half-hearted glare his friend's way, golden eyes glancing at the girl at their side when she hides a low giggle behind her fingertips at the action.

When she catches him looking, she smiles apologetically, gesturing to her own hair to try and express that his own is now a bird's nest, sticking out in every way and getting in his eyes even more than usual.

The boy huffs, trying to listen to Nekomata's advice regarding Shinzen's deadly multi-player attacks, the one that are hard to predict and thus hard to receive.

"Remember, they rely heavily on their number one and six for offense, so watch out for them when the ball is set, the others are mostly used as bluff or a smoke screen in case of a back attack," the old man's lips twitch, "And as always, don't drop that ball, boys."

"Hai!" the loud answer has Yachi nearly jumping out of her skin, Kenma also looking slightly disgruntled by the obnoxious show of team spirit.

Putting all of Nekoma's stuff back on the rolling cart she had been given, the girl nods her head at the two Nekoma players who were slowly making their way to the second court.

"Ne Yachi, do you think you can cheer us on like earlier?" before any of the two can answer, Lev shuffles closer to the girl, peering down at her with those slanted, piercing eyes of his.

"Huh?" oh, right, she had done that only a few minutes prior, whether that be out of a sense of responsibility to the team she was in charge of for the afternoon or simply because Inuoka's excitement had been infectious, "Oh, of course, do your best out there!"

The grin she is awarded is full of boyish pride and it softens the sharp angles of his face in a way that makes her question how in the world she could ever be frightened by such a person.

She completely misses the way Sugawara and Daichi share a slightly affronted glance from where they are doing diving drills close by, or the way Lev's gaze cuts to them almost smugly just as he turns on his heel to walk off with his teammates.

"Don't antagonize them too much Lev," Kuroo sighs, glancing at the two conspiring third-year crows who keep looking at him as if this is somehow his fault, "That captain of theirs is actually quite scary."

"What?" Lev is the poster child of innocence as his fingers wrack through the short, messy bangs hanging over his forehead, "I only want to make the most out of Yachi while she's still with us!"

"Don't talk as if she'll die or something," Kenma sighs, his gaze drifting upward as if asking for some sort of salvation from the skies above, "Between you and Yamamoto it's no wonder we can't keep a manager around for more than a few weeks."

"Hah," Kuroo scoffs, taking his place on the lineup in front of Shinzen's team, "Don't act as if you didn't scare off the last one, she was crying Kenma, crying."

The boy sniffs, not repentant in the slightest, "She was overreacting so you'd give her attention and take her out on a date, besides, she shouldn't have taken my console like that."

So maybe, he had been a bit mean - something rather out of character for him as putting energy into such useless, illogical endeavors was not his thing at all - but it isn't anything the girl with the shrill voice didn't deserve if you asked him, or anything to cry about.

Unaware of all of this, Yachi waves at Karasuno as they pass her by, softly muttering encouragements when she sees their flushed, sweaty faces from another round of diving drills.

There's only one way to describe the look that crosses Nishinoya and Tanaka's features when she ultimately does cheer on Nekoma.

Heartbreak.

Yachi knows she is weak to pretty little things.

Just take Satsuki for example, who she let get away with practically anything back in Junior High the second the girl fluttered those long eyelashes of hers, or Kiyoko-senpai who unknowingly seduced her into joining Karasuno's volleyball club or, well, the whole Kuroko Tetsuya debacle.

She hates the way her mind immediately pictures a pretty-faced blonde she once knew pouting in a way she knew he would if she ever were to word those thoughts out loud.

Let it be said that Kise Ryouta may not be the best basketball player there is (even if she's quite sure he's getting quite close to the summit) but if there is one thing he has over his fellow teammates and adversaries, it's that deadly beauty of his.

Yes, her weakness for pretty things has got her in trouble more times than she can count.

What Yachi is now just figuring out, is that she is equally weak to Hinata and all of his quirks. Hinata, who she would not exactly qualify as pretty, despite the way his wide, sharp eyes glimmer like sunlight, hair curling in almost artful waves.

Captivating is a better term for such a boy than pretty; unusually charismatic rather than lovely.

"Thanks for letting us practice a while longer!" the boy grins like nothing could've made him happier than her accepting to finish cleaning up later to accommodate his and Nishinoya's attempt at polishing his receiving form. As if nothing could bring him more joy than playing volleyball.

At this point, she does not know who she is trying to fool.

She, Mako, and Kaori had done most of the work when practice ended and all that was left was to mop the floor and lock the gym's doors behind them, "It was my pleasure," she trails after the two boys who had insisted on waiting for her, the corners of her eyes creasing at the sudden lack of light as they step out of the building, "Wow, I didn't think it was already this late."

"Let's hurry!" Nishinoya nods with conviction, "I want to enjoy Kiyoko-san's cooking at long last!"

Almost as if awakening at the prospect of food, the girl's stomach gives a low rumble and she blushes up to her roots when their eyes fall on her - oh how she loathes being the center of attention, "I'm pretty hungry too."

As the three of them make their way into Nekoma's cafeteria, she shyly waves back at Yukie, Yaku, and Kuroo who are mingling with a few others she's not overly familiar with.

The girl's pale brown eyes then drift to the table usually occupied by the coaches and teacher advisors, finding it empty. Kiyoko who is behind the cafeteria's food stall sees this and gives her kouhai an amused smile, "They already went to bed, or rather to go get a drink before bed."

Yachi nods, sending coach Ukai a silent prayer; the man barely knew what to do with coach Nekomata and Takeda-sensei, who had surprisingly hit it off during the day.

She could only guess what the two men would be like after a few drinks.

"Thanks for the food!" she clutches her tray close to her, resisting the urge to bounce on the balls of her feet, "See you later senpai!"

She follows close after the two boys, skewering in another direction than the one the two were taking. The action has her teammates sending her questioning glances over their shoulders and the girl smiles a bit shyly, "I'm gonna go eat with Yukie-san and the others, do you want to come?"

Anxiety forms a tight knot in her chest, but she did promise the Fukurodani manager to join them once in a while. Also, she is a bit more used to the presence of the Nekoma players after a full afternoon with them.

Her next inhale is much deeper than the last and the girl tries to hold it in as long as possible to try and calm her nerves, muscles losing some tension once she lets go of it.

The two Karasuno members share a look, looking back at their manager who is currently biting her lower lip furiously as she takes baby steps in the direction of the table she's coveting.

At once, they both nod, slipping on each side of the practically trembling girl, "Sure," Nishinoya grins toothily, sharp canines on display - the sight of it puts her at ease, more than any reassurances could've, "It's nice that you're getting along with the other teams."

Well, as long as those other teams keep their paws off their littlest manager.

"Oh, Yacchan!" Yukie motions her over once she catches sight of the petite blonde, "We saved you a seat!"

The girl blinks slowly, searching for the seat that was supposedly left for her, next to the table's edge perhaps - she's quite sure she could fit in without having Yaku move over, or in the thin space between Fukurodani's pretty setter and his wide-eyed ace.

Wordlessly, Yukie reaches to her right, fists the material of Yamamoto's jersey, and drags the boy as far from her as the length of her arm can manage, "Right next to me of course."

If she sends an apologetic grin the squawking mohawk-haired boy's way, Yachi allows herself to slip right between them, her knee accidentally bumping into Kuroo whose too-long legs are now facing hers, "Sorry," she mutters, avoiding the boy's copper-toned eyes.

"No worries," there was something deeply unsettling about Kuroo Tetsurou, something she can't quite put a finger on.

Maybe it has to do with the quick wit that shines through the façade of an easy-going teen, with the way she catches his gaze linger on her at odd times.

Don't be silly, Yachi chides herself at the thought, it's all in your head.

Yukie's animated discussion with Bokuto makes the girl's thoughts ease up slightly, and she finds her lips tugging upwards as Hinata joins in easily, as loud and as boisterous as Fukurodani's captain.

"And then you went swack, bam! It was awesome!" from the corner of her eyesight, she catches Akaashi sigh deeply - as if he had been dreading the moment when Hinata Shōyō and Kokuto Koutarou would ultimately meet.

He's not sure the world could handle such a collision, despite not esteeming himself a fatalist.

Karasuno's manager sends him a small smile when his eyes drift to her side of the table to avoid looking at the two supernova-like entities to his left, waving at him almost shyly. The crease between his brows fades slightly in both surprise and unexpected satisfaction at the endearing gesture.

If he notices the slight flush to her cheeks and the thin bridge of her nose when he gives her a smile of his own, he doesn't comment on it.

Hesitantly, Yachi murmurs something about his team's impressive winning streak today, and about his and Bokuto's flawless teamwork, something he's sure his captain would have happily boasted about had he heard this shy mouse of a girl whom he barely heard over the chatter of louder people around them.

"Does...does your shoulder hurt from earlier?" she asks after a while, sucking her lower lip between pearly white teeth unconsciously, once again, taking him by surprise, "I-I mean, I thought I saw you falter earlier when you did that set from the back line, maybe I just imagined, I-"

Akaashi barely manages to keep up with the furious speed at which words escape the girl.

He stops her before she can apologize further, eyes crinkling slightly, "You didn't, I'm just a bit sore from the last few days, but thank you for asking," besides his coach, he hadn't thought anyone noticed the strain such a rotation had taken on his worn-out, tense shoulders.

He had no one to blame other than himself for not properly stretching before going to bed yesterday and perhaps Kenma's last minute setter dump from earlier.

"Of course," she echoes immediately, glancing down at her hands, fiddling with her fingers almost nervously, "Athletes surprisingly have the bad habit of not taking care of their bodies," her own words register, and her eyes shoot upwards, mouth falling in a horrified, open-mouthed gasp, "Not that you don't Akaashi-san! You seem too responsible for that, I just meant that...that..."

As they always do in the worst situations, Hitoka finds her words failing her yet again.

Kuroo, who had been half-heartedly listening to their discussion as well as Bokuto and Hinata's, has a quiet huff of laughter at the girl's clumsy attempt at friendliness.

"You're right," Akaashi says kindly and watches her deflate like a hot air balloon out of air, "Even I'm guilty of not properly stretching at times."

Nishinoya, who had been discussing their shared position of Libero with Yaku, raises a brow when his manager whimpers lowly, hiding her face between her fingers, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Akaashi assures, both amused and slightly worried by the girl's reaction, "You managers always know what's best for us, even when we don't always listen."

Yukie bumps her shoulder against the girl's reassuringly, snorting a bit and sending Bokuto a glance heavy with meaning, "Damn right you don't, troublesome idiots."

But here's the thing about being a manager, those troublesome idiots are undoubtedly theirs to take care of and keep out of trouble.

Fukurodani's ace winks at the girl in answer, the gesture coming off as more childish than smooth, "You know you love us Yukippe," if the girl rolls her eyes, she does not renounce the notion and her silence speaks more than any words ever could.

Hitoka's eyes soften marginally at the display, wondering if she had ever looked like that while interacting with her team...or rather what used to be her team, those who were once her people.

Reluctantly fond, reluctantly adoring

(she did, an array of stars clouding her eyes when she looked at them)

She never thought she'd ever manage to think back on those times with such affection, without any of the bitterness that usually accompanies them whenever she thinks of Teiko. Something she does far too often, against her better judgment.

It's a maddening idea, that she still cannot let go of those memories, that she cannot burn off the remnants of the girl she used to be back then, the girl who adored them, who let them trample on everything she should've stood up for.

Ah, there is the bitterness.

"Boys, am I right?" Yukie nudges her gently once again when she sees the girl drifting off from reality and the smile the small blonde gives as an answer is almost wistful.

The chatter from all around them echoes, the sound of it mixing with girlish giggles that aren't her own and the sound the ball makes as it goes through the net, landing on the gymnasium's polished floor and the low undertones of Aomine's voice as he snarks a player from the other team, and the deathly silence that falls upon them when Murasakibara falls, two-toned eyes looming over his gigantic figure, and-

"Yeah," white fills her vision for a split second, mouth parted in words she had not yet spoken, words that escape her with great difficulty, "They're the worst."

Hinata's eyes find her own, something like a question swirling in the bright orange hues of his gaze, something close to concern now that she has once again fallen back on herself, hidden from the world.

Sometimes, it feels as if those thoughts could swallow her whole - as if her crippling anxiety wasn't enough to send her to an early grave.

Mustering a comforting facial expression, she looks away.

Snap out of it, Hitoka wills herself like she does every time her thoughts stray too far from safe territories, don't think about them.

So she doesn't, at least for a little while.

If anyone other than Hinata notices her inner struggles, no one says a thing and she goes back to talking with everyone, the fabric of her tracksuit's sleeves crumpled as she slowly unclenches her fist.