Tsukishima Kei crouched beside his duffel bag near the wall, one hand rifling through the contents. His jersey clung to his shoulders, damp at the collar. He pulled out a towel, a water bottle, a half-crushed pack of gum—then stopped.

Your house.

He'd been there last night. He'd set it by the genkan, next to his shoes, and then he'd gotten distracted—you'd been half-asleep on the couch, hair tangled, and he'd stayed longer than he planned.

Rainwater dripped from the edges of your umbrella as you stepped inside, folding it shut. Droplets clung to your shoulders, the hem of your uniform damp. In your other hand, you held another umbrella. His.

Tsukishima looked up.

The irritation on his face vanished. His shoulders relaxed. His expression softened into something almost unrecognizable, the sharp edges of his usual demeanor smoothing out entirely.

The entire team noticed.

You crossed the gym floor and held out his umbrella. He stared at it, then at you.

Silence.

Hinata's jaw dropped. Yamaguchi froze mid-stretch, eyes wide. Tanaka and Nishinoya looked like they'd just witnessed something impossible. Kageyama blinked slowly, processing. Sugawara raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Tsukishima finally looked at them, as if only now remembering they existed.