Chapter Text
The team was out at a bar for an event, the room buzzing with laughter and clinking glasses. Yachi, the newest employee, stared down at her beer, brows furrowed in thought.
“I don’t get it,” she muttered.
“Don’t get what?” Yamaguchi asked, nudging her arm.
She gestured towards Hinata and Kageyama at the far end of the room, where the two appeared to be locked in an intense drinking challenge. Hinata was grinning like a madman, while Kageyama’s competitive glare was sharp enough to cut glass.
“Those two,” Yachi replied, exasperation clear in her tone.
“Easy,” Tsukishima interjected, swirling his glass lazily. “They’re both freaks, and they found each other. Tale as old as time.”
Yamaguchi snorted into his beer. “Pretty much sums it up.”
“I get that ,” Yachi groaned, throwing her hands up.
“So you admit they’re both freaks,” Tsukishima taunted, leaning forward with an amused smirk.
“No! No!” Yachi shook her head wildly, cheeks burning. “I just… I don’t understand how they figured out their feelings and ended up together!”
Sugawara chuckled, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “Oh, it took them a while. Trust me.”
“Yeah, it was… painful,” Daichi added, visibly shuddering at the memory.
“You see,” Yamaguchi began, leaning back in his chair, “Kageyama always hated Hinata, even before he went into that VP position. But somewhere along the way, they came around. They… complete each other, I guess. In a really weird, dysfunctional way.”
Yachi’s eyes narrowed, still unsatisfied. “But how does it go from hate to… this?” She gestured again, now watching as Kageyama begrudgingly downed a shot Hinata handed him, only to shove Hinata’s face away when he cheered too loudly.
“I wouldn’t even call it ‘hate’.” Sugawara tilted his thoughtfully. “When I look back it seemed like Kageyama and Hinata were always obsessed with each other. Perhaps from the very beginning.”
“Obsession is a good word.” Daichi nodded. “He always got so riled up whenever Hinata did the smallest thing. Like who gets that riled up over an assistant when you’re in a position like that?”
“When you think about it,” Tsukishima said with a snort, “it’s super cliché. A boss and his assistant? Come on, doesn’t get any more on-the-nose than that.”
He had a point, Yachi admitted to herself, but that only made her more curious. “So tell me,” she pressed, leaning forward, “how did it start?”
Sugawara took a long sip of his beer, glancing at Daichi with a knowing smile. “I guess it started when Kageyama was named the youngest VP in Karasuno Inc. history…”
And with that, the table leaned in closer, ready for the tale to unfold.
7 Years Ago…
The glass doors to Karasuno Inc.’s headquarters slid open with a faint whoosh, and the world seemed to freeze for a heartbeat. Kageyama Tobio stepped inside, his polished leather shoes echoing like gunfire against the marble floor. The sound alone was enough to send employees scattering out of his way, bowing hurriedly as he passed.
“Good morning, Vice President Kageyama!” someone stammered, their voice trembling with forced enthusiasm.
He didn’t respond. Didn’t even glance in their direction. His sharp, icy gaze was fixed straight ahead, and his perfectly tailored suit only added to the aura of ruthless authority.
His lips curved into a smile—a slow, deliberate smile that had the receptionist nearly dropping her coffee. It wasn’t the kind of smile that radiated warmth or happiness. No, it was the type of smile that sent shivers down spines, the kind you’d expect from a villain savoring a victory.
But Kageyama wasn’t smiling because of his promotion. He wasn’t smiling because he had just been named the youngest Vice President in Karasuno Inc.’s history, lauded as a prodigy in the industry. Not because his team had broken every revenue target, creating a rippling effect across the company, and industry as a result.
No.
He was smiling because, at long last, he could finally fire Hinata Shoyo.
The thought made his chest swell with a sense of vindictive glee. That annoying, chaotic, impossible-to-control assistant who had worked for Karasuno far longer than he ever deserved. Today was the day he’d reclaim his peace.
He strode past the reception desk, the clacking of his footsteps still echoing ominously. Employees whispered to one another in hushed tones, careful not to let their voices carry. Some speculated about his promotion, others about the terrifying glint in his eyes.
“Kageyama-sama seems… particularly excited today,” one brave soul whispered, earning a sharp elbow from their colleague to shut up.
As he approached the elevators, an assistant scrambled to press the button for him, bowing deeply. “The boardroom is ready for your first meeting, sir.”
Kageyama hummed in acknowledgment, stepping into the elevator with an air of finality. As the doors slid shut, his smile widened ever so slightly.
Soon. Very soon, he thought to himself.
In the office, two workers huddled together, their eyes flicking to Vice President Kageyama as he strode past them.
“Oh my goodness, did you see him? He’s so good-looking,” one whispered, her voice filled with awe. His presence was magnetic, and there was something about his sharp features that left her breathless.
Her colleague leaned in closer, her voice low with a hint of fear. “He’s so scary though. My friend says he rules his department with an iron fist.” She glanced over her shoulder nervously. “No one wants to work with him. He’s cruel—sets impossible expectations. It’s terrifying.”
The first worker frowned, clearly torn. “But... he’s so handsome. How can someone like that be so cruel?” She sighed dreamily.
The second worker sighed, rolling her eyes. “Believe it. He has the highest turnover rate in the whole company. No one stays. You really want to be around someone like that?”
The first worker’s gaze lingered on Kageyama as he walked by again. “I don’t know... maybe he’s just misunderstood. Imagine working with him—he’s so intense. I could totally break that cold exterior and fix him” She looked like she was already fantasizing.
Her colleague just shook her head, half amused, half worried. “You’d have to be incredibly brave or incredibly stupid to try to crack that cold exterior.”
Kageyama strode into the boardroom, his every movement precise and controlled, like a predator closing in on its prey. The polished mahogany table gleamed under the bright overhead lights, and the room was filled with the faint hum of power.
“Grandfather,” he greeted curtly, inclining his head just enough to show respect.
CEO Kageyama, a man whose warmth seemed at odds with his towering position, beamed at his grandson. The elder Kageyama’s presence was like sunlight in the otherwise cold and clinical space—a stark contrast to the cold steel of his successor.
“Congratulations on your promotion, my dear grandson!” the CEO exclaimed warmly, his voice ringing with pride.
“Thank you,” Kageyama replied, his tone as cold as the glint in his eyes. Deep down, he didn’t need congratulations; this was a foregone conclusion. Born into privilege, he had worked tirelessly to earn the accolades that would have come regardless. Being the heir to a conglomerate meant titles like these were his birthright.
“Any big plans for your first day as VP of Operations?” the CEO asked, his eyes twinkling with curiosity.
“Yes,” Kageyama said with a tight smile. “I plan on making some changes.” The thought of Hinata Shoyo’s expression when he was unceremoniously dismissed made his pulse quicken. He could almost hear the satisfying sound of his chair rolling away for the last time.
“I’m thrilled.” His grandfather leaned back in his chair, his expression softening. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen you this happy…”
Kageyama gave a noncommittal grunt, unwilling to admit the source of his satisfaction.
After a brief exchange of business jargon, his grandfather clapped his hands together. “Yes, before we dive in, I have a gift for you. An inheritance, if you will.”
Kageyama’s brows furrowed. He didn’t like surprises. “What kind of inheritance?”
Before he could get an answer, there was a soft knock on the door.
“You asked to see me, Kageyama-sama?”
The voice was unmistakable. Kageyama’s head snapped toward the door, his breath catching in his throat. There, standing in the doorway, was Hinata Shoyo, looking as out of place in the sleek corporate boardroom as a flame in a snowstorm.
“What is he doing here?” Kageyama snapped, his finger shooting up to point at Hinata like an executioner condemning a criminal. Disgust curled his lips as he stared at the orange-haired menace.
Hinata, to his credit, didn’t back down. His sharp amber eyes met Kageyama’s icy glare, and his expression morphed into one of equal distaste. “Ugh, sorry to ruin your morning, Mr. Vice President,” Hinata sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “If I knew you would’ve been here, I would’ve just faked an accident.”
Kageyama’s fists clenched at his sides, his nails digging into his palms. The sight of Hinata, the very bane of his existence, standing here of all places was enough to make his blood boil.
“Actually, I’m glad you’re here,” Kageyama growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Because as Vice President, my first order of business is to fire you. Clear out your desk—”
“Get bent,” Hinata shot back, folding his arms defiantly.
“I’m calling security—”
“That’s enough,” the elder Kageyama said firmly, his warm smile replaced by a commanding presence that demanded obedience.
Kageyama snapped his mouth shut, but his jaw was still tight with frustration. He shot a glare at Hinata, who rolled his eyes in response, muttering something under his breath about ‘power trips.’
The CEO leaned back in his chair, his fingers lacing together in a calculated gesture. His sharp eyes, undimmed by age, settled on his grandson with unwavering authority. “I brought him here for a reason,” he said, his voice cold and deliberate. “As of today, Hinata Shoyo is your new Executive Assistant.”
Kageyama froze for a split second, processing the words. Then, to everyone’s shock, he threw his head back and laughed. The sound echoed in the spacious boardroom, a chilling, humorless laugh that sent a shiver down Hinata’s spine. He had never seen Kageyama so much as smirk, let alone laugh. The sight was unnerving.
“How funny. Ever the comedian, Grandfather,” Kageyama finally said, wiping an imaginary tear from the corner of his eye. His laughter died as quickly as it had started, replaced by the icy, calculated demeanor he was known for. His gaze snapped to Hinata, sharp and venomous. “Go clear out your desk. You’re still fired.”
“Wha—” Hinata sputtered, his expression twisting between shock and indignation.
The CEO raised a hand, silencing both of them with the sheer weight of his presence. “It was not a joke,” he warned, his tone brooking no argument. “Hinata will be your new assistant starting today.”
“No!” The cry was simultaneous, their voices blending in an almost comical harmony before dissolving into mutual glares.
“Grandfather, this is nonsense,” Kageyama growled, his fists clenching at his sides.
“I don’t want to work with him!” Hinata added, his voice rising in pitch. “Please, just fire me instead!”
“See?” Kageyama snapped, his arm flailing toward Hinata in an uncharacteristic show of frustration. “Grant his wish!”
“Enough!” The CEO’s voice cut through the rising chaos like a blade. Both men fell silent, their chests heaving with barely contained anger.
“My decision is final,” the elder declared, his voice ringing with the authority of decades at the helm of Karasuno Inc. “Kageyama, you will step into the Vice President position with Hinata Shoyo as your assistant. For as long as I am CEO, you are not to dismiss him. Do I make myself clear?”
Kageyama’s jaw tightened, his teeth grinding audibly. “Why?” he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. “This is ridiculous. This man is the most incompetent person I’ve ever met! He screws up everything he touches.”
“Hey!” Hinata bristled, stepping forward as if to defend himself, though he faltered under Kageyama’s glare.
“That’s not true,” the CEO interjected firmly. “Hinata has been my loyal assistant for years. He will serve you well.”
Kageyama scoffed his expression one of utter disbelief. “He could never serve me well,” he spat. “Is this some kind of punishment?”
The CEO smiled faintly, a glimmer of amusement in his otherwise stoic face. “It is a gift… an inheritance.” His voice softened, as though imparting a secret. “You will thank me one day.”
Kageyama opened his mouth to argue further, but before he could utter another word, the CEO stood and strode toward the door with an air of finality.
Without looking back, he added, “Make it work.” The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Kageyama and Hinata standing in tense silence.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The reality of their situation hung heavy in the air.
“This is unbelievable,” Kageyama muttered at last, running a hand through his dark hair.
“You’re telling me?” Hinata shot back, his voice rising in indignation. “I just got demoted from working for the CEO to… to you!”
“Good,” Kageyama snarled. “Maybe you’ll quit and save me the trouble.”
“In your dreams, Mr. Vice President,” Hinata snapped, his fists clenching as he stormed toward the door.
As it slammed shut behind him, Kageyama let out a low growl, his mind already racing with ways to survive—or escape—this newfound hell.
Hinata knelt over the half-emptied cardboard box, shoving papers and knickknacks into his new desk drawer with more force than necessary. He muttered under his breath, grumbling about the cosmic joke that had become his life. This was, without a doubt, the worst day ever.
The sound of footsteps, sharp and deliberate, echoed down the hall. A shadow fell over his desk, chilling the air around him. Hinata froze mid-movement, his heart sinking. Slowly, he turned, only to come face-to-face with the cold, calculating gaze of Vice President Kageyama Tobio.
Hinata yelped, stumbling backward into his chair. The box on his desk tipped precariously, a few loose papers fluttering to the ground.
Kageyama’s lips twitched upward in a smug, predatory smile, as though feeding off the fear he inspired. His sharp suit, perfectly tailored, only added to the image of a man who thrived on power and control.
“Wha—” Hinata started, his voice cracking, but Kageyama cut him off, leaning in just close enough to make him squirm.
“Listen here, shrimp.” His voice was dangerously low, each word enunciated with icy precision. Hinata gulped, his brain scrambling to function under the oppressive weight of Kageyama’s glare.
“You might have wormed your way into my grandfather’s favor,” Kageyama continued, his dark eyes glinting with menace. “But don’t think for a second that I don’t see you for what you are: a bumbling, incompetent fool.”
Hinata bristled at the insult, but the intensity of Kageyama’s presence pinned him to his chair like a trapped animal.
“I may have to keep you around for now,” Kageyama growled, his tone razor-sharp and unrelenting. “But mark my words—when I become CEO, your time here will be over. I’ll make sure you’re blacklisted, not just from Karasuno Inc., but from every subsidiary under our name. You won’t even be able to buy office supplies from us.”
Hinata’s fists clenched in his lap, his earlier fear beginning to give way to simmering indignation. His eyes narrowed, glaring up at the towering VP.
Kageyama’s lips curled into a smirk, a small, cruel thing that only made Hinata’s blood boil further. “Until that fateful day arrives,” Kageyama said, leaning closer, “I’ll make your life here a living hell. Every. Single. Day.”
The venom in his words hung in the air like a storm cloud. For a moment, Hinata could do nothing but stare, his chest tight with equal parts anger and disbelief.
And just like that, Kageyama straightened, his smirk vanishing behind a mask of cold indifference. Without another word, he turned on his heel and strode out of the office, his footsteps echoing down the hall.
Hinata sat frozen for a long moment, the box still tipped over on his desk. Then, with a growl of frustration, he kicked the edge of his desk. The papers he’d been organizing scattered even further, but he didn’t care.
“Living hell…” he muttered under his breath, clenching his fists. “We’ll see about that.”
The next few days passed in a surreal haze for Hinata. Each morning, he arrived at the office full of determination, prepared to face whatever ridiculous tasks Kageyama might throw his way. But instead of being buried in work, he found himself drowning in a maddening void of nothingness.
On his first day under Kageyama’s leadership, Hinata waited anxiously at his new desk, pen in hand, ready to scribble down notes or tackle assignments. Kageyama barely acknowledged his presence, sweeping past with a curt nod, his focus seemingly elsewhere. Hours ticked by, and still, no work came. When lunchtime arrived, Hinata cautiously knocked on the VP’s office door, only to be waved off with a disinterested "I don’t need anything. Go home early."
Confused but compliant, Hinata packed up and left, thinking it was a fluke. But the same thing happened the next day. And the day after that.
By the fourth day, Hinata’s frustration had reached a boiling point. He spent most of his mornings fiddling with paperclips, doodling on sticky notes, or reorganizing the same stack of files over and over again. All around him, the office buzzed with activity—phones ringing, keyboards clacking, and his coworkers darting between meetings with furrowed brows and endless to-do lists. The contrast was infuriating.
“Shoyo, heading out already?” one of his colleagues asked on his way to the elevator late in the afternoon. The pity in her tone made his stomach twist.
“I, uh... yeah,” Hinata muttered, forcing a weak smile. “Just following orders.”
By the time he stepped out of the elevator, the frustration was eating him alive. It wasn’t just the lack of work—it was Kageyama’s smug, infuriating nonchalance. Each morning, Hinata would try to catch his boss’s attention, only to be dismissed with a flick of the wrist or a pointed glance at the clock, as if to say, 'Why are you still here?'
On the rare occasions, Kageyama did speak to him, it was only to reinforce his uselessness. “Your desk looks clean,” Kageyama commented once, barely glancing up from his laptop. “Keep it that way.”
Hinata wanted to scream. He wanted to march into Kageyama’s office and demand to know what this was all about. If Kageyama was trying to humiliate him, it was working. The deliberate isolation, the lack of purpose—it was all too much. By the end of the week, he was pacing in his tiny apartment, muttering under his breath.
“This is ridiculous,” he growled, flopping onto his couch. “How am I supposed to prove myself if I don’t even get a chance?”
Hinata clenched his fists, his frustration burning hotter. It was clear now: Kageyama wasn’t ignoring him out of oversight or incompetence. No, this was deliberate. Kageyama was sending a message, loud and clear.
And Hinata wasn’t sure how much longer he could take it.
“Listen here, Baka-Yama,” Hinata shouted, his voice loud and unapologetic as he stormed into Kageyama's office. His eyes were blazing with frustration, his fists clenched at his sides. "I know what you're doing."
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, barging in like this?” Kageyama snapped, his voice cold and demanding, his fingers still resting on his desk as if to steady himself against the sudden intrusion. He shot a glare at Hinata, but there was something about the energy in the room that made even Kageyama flinch slightly. “Get out of my office.”
Hinata planted his feet firmly, refusing to back down. “I know you’re icing me out.” He took a step closer, his tone sharp and accusing. "I know you’re trying to force me out by giving me no work. You think this is gonna make me quit?”
Kageyama’s eyes narrowed, his gaze turning icy, but a flicker of something else crossed his features—amusement? Contempt? It was hard to tell. His lips curved into a faint, calculating smirk. "I’m giving you all the work that you're capable of handling," he said, his voice dripping with mockery.
Hinata’s jaw clenched. "Which is nothing," he hissed, the frustration in his voice clear. "You think I’m not capable of handling anything, that’s your problem." His words came out like a challenge, a direct hit at Kageyama’s arrogant assumption. He took another step forward, defiance burning in his chest.
Kageyama leaned back in his chair, eyes briefly scanning Hinata with a sense of superiority, before raising an eyebrow in mock surprise. "So you do have a brain," he said slowly, the words dripping with sarcasm. His smirk widened as he crossed his arms. "Good to know there's at least something going on in that head of yours,"
Hinata's posture stiffened, his body suddenly going taut with an energy that Kageyama hadn’t anticipated. His gaze was unwavering, and his voice dropped lower, colder, sending a shiver down Kageyama's spine. "Oh, I’ve got more than that," he said, the sudden change in tone throwing Kageyama off guard for a split second.
Kageyama’s eyes flickered briefly, uncertainty creeping into his chest. For a moment, he thought he saw something wild in Hinata's gaze, a spark of something darker—a determination that could either be dangerous or powerful. "What is that supposed to mean?" Kageyama drawled, raising an eyebrow, trying to maintain his indifference. But deep down, a faint pulse of concern rose, like a slow burn in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t quite right.
“If you don’t give me work to do, I’ll create my own.” His voice honed with warning.
“Good luck with that.” Kageyama snarled.
Hinata took another step forward, his voice now laced with a cold, unsettling calmness that seemed to contrast with his usual fiery demeanor. "Don’t worry, Mr. Vice President," he said, each word deliberate, and the way he said Kageyama's title made it sound almost mocking. "You’ll see soon enough just what I’m capable of."
Kageyama’s eyes hardened, but his pulse quickened, and for the first time since the conversation started, he felt a flash of doubt—was he truly underestimating Hinata, or was this just a misguided act of defiance? The crazed look in Hinata’s eyes made his stomach twist, a flicker of fear that Kageyama refused to acknowledge but couldn't fully suppress.
Hinata gave him one last, intense stare, his lips curling into a subtle but dangerous smile. "And trust me, Kageyama," he added, voice low and threatening, "it won’t be something you can ignore."
With that, Hinata spun on his heel, leaving Kageyama alone in his office. The door slammed shut with a sharp ‘clack’, and for a long moment, Kageyama just sat there, staring at the empty doorway, the unnerving weight of Hinata's words hanging in the air like a promise—or a warning.
The next few days were nothing short of a whirlwind of chaos for Kageyama. Hinata, having clearly taken the ‘create his own work’ idea to heart, began filling every minute of Kageyama’s life with the kind of absurdity that only he could dream up. It was as if he had decided that his sole mission in life was to make Kageyama’s existence as difficult as possible—and honestly, it was.
Kageyama entered his office early one morning, his head pounding from the stress of managing the endless flow of meetings that seemed to increase in both frequency and importance. He tossed his briefcase onto his desk and froze, staring in disbelief at the sight before him.
His normally pristine, organized files had been… reorganized. By none other than Hinata.
The once-impeccable order of his documents was replaced with a chaotic mess of brightly colored dividers, neon sticky notes, and the kind of cheerful, borderline insane color-coded system that screamed Hinata. Red for meetings. Blue for “important things” (a note Kageyama refused to acknowledge as valid). And, inexplicably, pink for “non-urgent items.”
"Seriously?" Kageyama muttered under his breath as he ran a hand through his hair. This was ridiculous. But it wasn’t just the files—oh no, that was just the beginning.
The calendar on his desk monitor had been transformed into a carnival of pastel-colored icons. Kageyama squinted at it. Flowers bloomed for meetings. Cute little kitties with big eyes marked his supposed "break time." And the clincher? Lollipops. Lollipops for client meetings. It was like a nightmare version of a children’s birthday party, except it wasn’t remotely charming.
“Hinata…” Kageyama growled under his breath, massaging his temples in frustration.
The door to his office opened with a loud, cheerful knock. Hinata bounced in, his usual grin plastered across his face.
“Good morning, Mr. Vice President!” Hinata said, as if he hadn’t just invaded Kageyama’s personal space and sanity.
"Don't call me that," Kageyama muttered through clenched teeth, trying to ignore the overwhelming urge to punch a wall.
“Oh, I just dropped off some steamed milk for you!” Hinata chirped, carrying a mug in one hand. He placed it carefully on Kageyama’s desk with a flourish, as if this was some kind of grand gesture.
Kageyama didn’t even acknowledge it. He just stared at it in disgust. Every single morning, Hinata delivered the same drink with the same irritating smile, and every single morning, Kageyama threw it in the trash without so much as a second thought.
“Stop doing that,” Hinata said one day, his voice oddly calm despite the irritation bubbling inside. “It’s wasteful. You’re throwing away perfectly good milk. I know you like milk.”
Kageyama didn’t care. He didn’t have time to care. He just grabbed the cup, marched to the trash can, and dumped it with a careless flick of his wrist, all while glaring at Hinata.
Hinata didn’t flinch. “You’re hopeless,” he muttered, but there was a flicker of something like amusement behind his eyes. He had expected that. “But don’t worry boss, I’ll continue to work hard for you!”
Of course, Hinata wasn’t just messing with Kageyama's morning routine. Oh, no. He had bigger plans in mind.
A few days later, Kageyama entered the office to find a mass email sent out to the entire team with an invitation for a ‘team-building exercise,’ a cheerful (and disturbingly informal) email filled with exclamation marks, emojis, and colorful fonts.
He clicked on it in horror, only to see that, somehow, Hinata had taken his corporate credit card without permission and used it to organize a weekend retreat for the entire department. All on his own. Without consulting anyone. And the best part? He had positioned it as a gift ‘from your lovely and thoughtful Vice President, Kageyama!’
“What the hell is this?!” Kageyama roared, slamming his hands onto his desk. “You can't just organize something like this behind my back!”
Hinata, who had somehow managed to find a way to bring coffee to everyone in the office—no matter how small the order—stood in the doorway, looking utterly unbothered. “Oh, come on, Kageyama! Everyone loves it! They’re excited! I just thought it would be a great way to get the team together.” He paused. “And you’re getting all the credit! Isn’t that wonderful?”
The worst part? The employees did actually seem to appreciate it. Unlike Kageyama, they saw the retreat as a much-needed break from the grueling work atmosphere he had created with his icy demeanor and high expectations. Slowly but surely, people began to warm up to Hinata, even to the point where they’d openly thank “their lovely VP” for organizing events. Kageyama felt a growing sense of dread every time someone mentioned how much they liked “the new atmosphere.”
And it wasn’t just the team-building events. Oh no, Hinata had gone further. His fingerprints were all over Kageyama’s office now. Gone was the stark, sterile decor that screamed efficiency. Instead, there were stuffed animals—cute ones, no less—sitting on Kageyama's usually pristine bookshelves. The papers on his desk were now organized by theme (not function). And Hinata had even gone as far as replacing his chair’s cushion with a pastel-colored one, making Kageyama’s workspace feel more like a nursery than the high-stakes environment he thrived in.
It was clear Hinata was starting to undermine him in the most subtle ways, and it was working. The team was smiling, laughing, and bonding, all while Kageyama was locked in his office, fighting back the boiling fury and the inexplicable sense of helplessness that came with every passing day.
“Hinata!” Kageyama snarled one afternoon as his office was, once again, flooded with pastel-colored post-its and confetti (he had no idea how that got there). “Get your crap out of my office.”
Hinata stood in the doorway, looking pleased with himself as he leaned casually against the frame. “Why, Kageyama, aren’t you enjoying the change of scenery in your office? Maybe it’ll finally cheer you up,”
Kageyama glared at him. This wasn’t the end. This couldn’t be the end.
"Just wait, Hinata," he muttered. "You’re making a big mistake."
Hinata smiled, unfazed. His eyes flickered with anticipation. "Bring it."
HR Manager Ukai had seen his fair share of oddities during his time in HR. After all, he had dealt with everything from bizarre complaints to heated fistfights, and even once had to get involved with the Tokyo Police Department over a particularly messy issue. But none of that even came close to the sight before him today.
He glanced down at his file once again—this was no ordinary meeting. The two people sitting across from him could only be described as chaos incarnate. There was Hinata Shoyo , the energetic assistant to Kageyama Tobio, a man whose antics were well-known but still managed to surprise, and Kageyama Tobio himself, newly appointed Vice President of Operations at Karasuno Inc. The fact that Kageyama was also the grandson of the company’s CEO added a whole new layer of complexity to the situation.
Since Hinata had been assigned to Kageyama—just two business weeks ago, mind you—there had been over 50 complaints filed against the two of them. Ukai couldn’t help but shake his head in disbelief.
Fifty complaints in two weeks.
He was beginning to wonder if he’d made the wrong career choice by going into HR.
But he always enjoyed the drama. He thought snickering to himself.
“Well…” Ukai began, glancing up at the pair in front of him. “I’m not even going to list off all the complaints because there are just too damn many! So, let’s just hit the highlights, shall we?”
Hinata and Kageyama exchanged an uncomfortable look but nodded solemnly. They sat stiffly in their chairs, though it wasn’t because of the HR manager. No, the true source of their tension was the silent figure seated at the corner of the room. The CEO of Karasuno Inc.— Kageyama’s grandfather —had his gaze fixed on them both, his steely eyes never leaving the two of them. The tension between them was palpable, and the only thing worse than being summoned to an HR meeting was knowing your superior was watching your every move with a critical eye.
Ukai continued, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he flipped through the file. “Ahem. Daily screaming matches in the office, hallways and meetings. Oh, and four complaints about physical fighting. Seriously. Wrestling?” Ukai looked up at them and raised an eyebrow. “And this one was funny—uh, I mean interesting—someone complained that Kageyama and Hinata tried to resolve a dispute through a ‘meat-bun’ eating contest? Something about disrupting the work environment.”
Hinata, ever the ball of energy, grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “It was a legitimate way to settle things, okay?”
Kageyama glared at him. “You threw buns at me first!”
“Yeah, because you were being impossible!” Hinata shot back.
Ukai sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he continued reading. “Let’s see... ‘Excessive desk slamming,’” he said with an exaggerated tone. “Kageyama, really? You’re slamming desks now?”
Kageyama crossed his arms and glared at Ukai. “He gets on my nerves...”
Ukai wasn’t finished. “And don’t get me started on this one—‘constant interruptions during meetings.’ Apparently, you two can’t go five minutes without cutting each other off.”
Hinata’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “Well, he’s always talking over me! I can’t get a word in!”
“Because what you’re saying is irrelevant!” Kageyama retorted, his face turning red.
Hinata and Kageyama ignored him, continuing their back-and-forth with practiced ease.
“There was also a complaint about you two using the stairs to settle disagreements,” Ukai added with a deadpan expression. “Something about a ‘race to the top of the building’ during working hours?”
“It's to prove a point.” They uttered in unison, then immediately stopped and glared at each realizing they had said the same thing.
“Guys!” Ukai shouted, smacking the file onto the desk. “This is utter nonsense. This is a professional working environment and you two are acting like children.”
Kageyama and Hinata exchanged a quick glance, but neither of them spoke. Their eyes immediately darted toward CEO Kageyama, whose glare could burn holes in concrete. The room was too quiet for comfort as Ukai fumbled through his paperwork.
“I’m very disappointed,” CEO Kageyama finally muttered, cutting through the tension like a hot knife through butter.
That was all it took. The moment the words left his lips, Kageyama and Hinata erupted into an argument, their voices raising, overlapping in a blur of accusations and defense. Their frustration, now uncontained, spilled over like a tidal wave.
“You should just fire him!” Kageyama cried out, his voice almost hoarse with irritation. “He’s been nothing but a pain since he got assigned to me!” His fists were clenched, his fingers twitching as though he was on the verge of losing control.
Hinata wasn’t having any of it. “That’s because you won’t assign me any work!” he shot back. “I heard that’s called constructive dismissal, by the way!”
The words hung in the air for a moment. Ukai’s eyes widened in surprise. He flinched at the mention of such a serious term. Did Hinata just say that? He hadn’t expected to hear that coming from the mouth of the ever-optimistic assistant.
“Do you even know what that means?” Kageyama snapped, his tone dripping with condescension. The flush on Hinata’s face told him all he needed to know—no, Hinata did not know what it meant. “You just threw out a fancy term, didn’t you?”
Hinata’s eyes shifted from Kageyama’s accusatory stare to Ukai, who was clearly struggling to maintain his composure. “Please let me come back and work for you, CEO Kageyama,” Hinata said, putting his hands together in a pleading gesture that made him look more like a child than an assistant. His voice softened as he leaned forward. “I promise I’ll be good.”
At that, Ukai couldn’t hold back a smirk. This was something else. Watching these two bicker like schoolchildren in front of the CEO was almost comical, but he knew it was far from funny for Kageyama, who was barely holding onto his temper.
“Enough.” CEO Kageyama’s voice was icy, cutting through the noise. His voice was sharp, final, and carried the authority that only a CEO could wield. It made both of them go silent, but not without some resentment.
He fixed them both with a look, an unreadable expression that could melt stone. “You two will continue to work together. And I’m not hearing any more complaints about it.”
Hinata groaned loudly, leaning back in his chair with a frustrated roll of his eyes. Kageyama did the same, both of them letting out synchronized, exaggerated sighs.
“Uh… forgive me, CEO Kageyama, but I strongly advise against—” Ukai began but the CEO was not done.
“Tobio,” the CEO said, his gaze now snapping to his grandson. “You will assign Hinata work. Real work, no more of this nonsense.” Then, he turned his piercing eyes on Hinata. “And Hinata you will do everything in your power to serve Tobio as well as you have served me. I chose you for him for a reason.”
Hinata blinked, clearly taken aback by the unexpected praise. Kageyama, on the other hand, looked both irritated and defeated, as if the weight of the situation was crashing down on him all at once. But neither of them said anything else.
The room was tense, the silence now filled with the weight of expectation. Both of them had no choice but to accept the decision, but neither of them were happy about it. Ukai felt the air grow thick with frustration, but deep down, he knew one thing for sure: this was far from over.
Kageyama slapped a file onto Hinata’s desk, the sound echoing through the quiet office. Hinata didn’t flinch, his eyes still focused on his screen, unfazed.
“There’s a meeting tomorrow,” Kageyama muttered, his voice low and annoyed. “Aoba Johsai plans to pull out of a project. It’s our job to make sure they don’t do that.”
Hinata leaned back in his chair, shooting Kageyama a smug grin. “Aren’t they pulling out because your personality sucks and they don’t wanna work with you?”
Kageyama’s eyes narrowed, and without warning, he reached out and gripped Hinata’s head, squeezing it with surprising force. Hinata yelped, squirming in his seat. “Shut up, dumbass,” Kageyama growled, his face flushed with frustration. “The meeting’s at 10 AM, so don’t screw it up.”
Hinata rubbed his sore head, trying to act unaffected. “Aren’t you a good little grandson, huh? Listening to your grandfather and giving me work like he told you to?”
“Shut up, dumbass,” Kageyama shot back, his grip still lingering for a moment longer before he released Hinata.
Hinata smirked, rubbing his head. “You shut up, jerk.”
Kageyama scowled. “No, you!”
Hinata crossed his arms, leaning back with a defiant glint in his eyes. “No, you!”
“Urgh! - Just shut up. 10 AM. Be there.”
It was 8 AM.
The meeting was turning into disaster. Kageyama sat at the head of the table, his posture rigid, his hands clenched into fists under the desk. Across from him, Oikawa lounged in his chair, radiating smugness as if he had already won. Kindaichi and Kunimi flanked him, their former ties to Karasuno Inc. making their presence sting all the more. Kindaichi, especially, seemed to revel in the tension.
"I don’t know why you’re even trying, Kageyama," Kindaichi said with a smirk. "You run this place like a dictatorship. Maybe you should step down while you’re ahead—oh wait, you’re not ahead."
Kageyama shot him a glare, his jaw tightening. He wanted to fire back, but the stakes were too high to waste energy on petty comebacks. Oikawa raised a hand to silence Kindaichi, but his expression betrayed just how much he enjoyed the jab.
"Let’s keep this civil, Kindaichi," Oikawa said with faux politeness. Then, with a shark-like smile, he turned to Kageyama. "No need to kick Tobio-chan while he’s down. We’ve made our position clear. This partnership isn’t working for us anymore, and we’re ready to terminate it. Unless, of course, you have something substantial to offer."
Kageyama sat up straighter, forcing his voice to stay even. "We’ve invested too much in this project for you to pull out now. Your ROI would take a significant hit. Let’s renegotiate the timeline—"
Oikawa interrupted with a wave of his hand. "Save your breath, Tobio-chan. We’re not interested in playing this game anymore. Our resources are better spent elsewhere."
Kageyama’s teeth ground together, but he pressed on. "If we adjust the deliverables to focus on high-priority items, we can streamline the process and—"
"No," Oikawa said flatly, the amusement in his eyes barely concealed. "Your focus has been misaligned from the start. Let’s not pretend this is salvageable."
Kindaichi snorted. "Typical Kageyama—can’t adapt, can’t lead."
Kageyama’s glare burned into Kindaichi, but before he could say another word, the door swung open.
All eyes turned as Hinata strode in, a file tucked under his arm and an infuriatingly confident grin on his face. Kageyama’s eyes narrowed in disbelief, while Oikawa raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed.
"Sorry for the delay—traffic was terrible, " Hinata said cheerfully, his tone far too casual for the high-stakes atmosphere.
Kageyama bristled, knowing full well that Hinata biked to work every day. The lie was clearly meant to annoy him, especially when Hinata shot him a pointed look that practically screamed, I know what you did.
"And who is this?" Oikawa asked, his voice dripping with condescension.
“Hinata Shoyo," he said, placing the file on the table. "I work under Vice President Kageyama. I’ve prepared some projections I think you’ll find interesting."
Oikawa leaned back in his chair, unimpressed. "Unless you’ve got a miracle in that file, you’re wasting my time."
"Not a miracle," Hinata said, unfazed. "But definitely an opportunity. If you continue this project, your department could see a 5% increase in revenue next fiscal year."
Oikawa scoffed, barely glancing at the file. "Hypotheticals don’t interest me."
"Fair enough," Hinata said, still smiling. "Then let’s talk about expanding into new markets. With Karasuno’s network, Aoba Johsai Enterprises could gain access to international clients you’ve been chasing for years. Think of the new revenue streams and competitive edge."
For a moment, Oikawa’s mask slipped, and a flicker of interest crossed his face. But it was fleeting, and he quickly schooled his expression. "Tempting, but unnecessary. We’re doing just fine on our own."
Hinata’s smile remained fixed, but his voice dropped, taking on a weight that silenced the room. "Then let me spell it out for you, Oikawa-san. If you walk away now, the headlines won’t focus on strategic business decisions. No, the narrative will be about Aoba Johsai Enterprises canceling a multi-million-dollar project over personal spite. Hundreds of jobs lost. Families impacted. All because of unresolved issues with Kageyama Tobio."
The room fell into a tense silence. Oikawa’s smirk faltered, a flicker of unease crossing his face. Kindaichi and Kunimi exchanged nervous glances, and even Kageyama, who had been stewing in frustration, turned to look at Hinata with surprise.
"Personal issues?" Oikawa said, laughing hollowly to mask his discomfort. "What a ridiculous accusation."
Hinata sighed, tilting his head like he was talking to a particularly slow student. "Do I really need to spell it out?"
Oikawa leaned forward, his eyes narrowing dangerously. The mask of smug detachment slipped, revealing something colder. "By all means, enlighten us, Hinata."
Hinata straightened, his grin sharpening. "Fine. Everyone knows about the tensions between you and Kageyama during your time at the University of Tokyo."
"Rumors," Oikawa scoffed, waving it off with a dismissive flick of his wrist.
"Sure, just rumors," Hinata said smoothly. "But rumors start to feel a lot more like reality when you connect the dots. Let’s start with the strategic poaching of Kageyama’s team. First Kindaichi, then Kunimi. In fact, over the last two years, you’ve managed to scoop up 40% of his team. No other team in Karasuno Inc saw this turnover. Hard to believe that’s a coincidence."
Oikawa’s face remained impassive, but the tension in his jaw was telling. "Talent moves all the time. It’s just business."
"Is it, though?" Hinata asked, feigning innocence. He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Because when you combine that with the abrupt way you’ve handled this project—cutting ties right after Karasuno Inc. put significant resources into it—specically from Kageyama Tobio’s cost center, it starts to look less like business and more like… well, a grudge."
"You’re reaching," Oikawa said, though the bite in his tone betrayed his irritation.
Hinata leaned forward, his voice dropping lower, his grin now a predator’s. "Am I? Because you know how the media loves a juicy story. We don’t even have to plant the narrative. The moment this deal falls apart, they’ll connect the dots themselves. ‘Oikawa Tooru sabotages multi-million-dollar deal over personal vendetta.’ It writes itself. And once public sympathy shifts to Karasuno Inc., well…"
“We can lay out everything Aoba Johsai had to gain,” Kageyama interjected sharply, his tone cutting through the tension. He gestured toward the documents Hinata had presented earlier, catching even Hinata off guard. “I’m sure the press will be eager to see the data and hear how Aoba Johsai chose to pull out anyway—despite all the undeniable benefits of the project.”
They let the thought linger, glancing around the room. Kindaichi and Kunimi shifted uncomfortably in their seats, suddenly less eager to be there.
"We both know stockholders hate bad press," Hinata continued, his tone casual but cutting. "They like stability. Clear numbers. A company that doesn’t seem driven by personal pettiness. And this?” He made a show to gesture between Oikawa and his team. “This would be messy. Very messy."
Oikawa’s lips pressed into a thin line, his fingers drumming against the table as he processed the implications.
“Are you threatening us?” Kindaichi pressed.
"Not at all! You see, here’s the thing," Hinata said, leaning back in his chair with a triumphant smile. "Either way, we win. You back out now, and Karasuno Inc. becomes the underdog everyone loves. You stay, and we both walk away with profit. So…" His gaze shifted pointedly to Kindaichi and Kunimi, his eyes narrowing just enough to unsettle them. "Whose team do you really want to be on now?"
The silence stretched unbearably. Oikawa’s expression darkened, but he knew he was cornered. Finally, through clenched teeth, he muttered, "Fine. We’ll extend the project."
"And invest more into the pipeline," Hinata added cheerfully, his tone like he was discussing the weather. “Its the least you could do for our trouble.” He gestured to himself and Kageyama with a little bit too much glee in his eyes.
Oikawa’s glare was murderous, but he nodded curtly.
As Oikawa and his team rose to leave, the tension in the room eased slightly. Kageyama stared at Hinata, still processing what had just happened.
The door to the conference room had barely clicked shut when Kageyama and Hinata turned to each other, wide-eyed and breathing hard as if they’d just run a marathon. For a moment, neither said anything, the gravity of what they had just pulled off hanging thick in the air. Then, as if a dam had broken, the words came pouring out.
"Did you see their faces?!" Hinata shouted, practically bouncing off the walls as he threw his arms wide.
"I saw their faces!" Kageyama yelled back, his rare, toothy grin splitting his usually stoic face.
"They didn’t know what hit them!” Hinata cried, throwing an imaginary dart. “Bam! Straight to the point! Just like I said—"
“Oi—” Kageyama cut him off, pointing a finger at Hinata, his voice sharp with frustration. “How the hell could you just barge in there without telling me what you were planning?!”
Hinata threw his hands up defensively, a triumphant grin plastered on his face. “But you caught on quick, didn’t you?”
“That’s not the point! We need a plan next time!” Kageyama snapped, running a hand through his hair. “You can’t just waltz in and play hardball in a negotiation like that!”
“Well, maybe if you didn’t lie to me about the meeting time, we could’ve coordinated better!” Hinata shot back, crossing his arms with a smug look. “Also, did you see how rattled Oikawa looked? We kicked their butts!”
“Dumbass,” Kageyama growled, though his lips twitched upwards, seemingly against his will. “Don’t get too excited. We still need to be prepared. They could’ve done some real damage to us if we weren’t careful.”
“If it weren’t for you trying to handle everything on your own, I wouldn’t have to go in guns blazing!” Hinata retorted, wagging a finger in Kageyama’s face. “And don’t pretend you didn’t lie about the meeting time just to keep me out of it. You’re lucky I found the meeting was at 8 AM and not 10 AM like you said.”
Kageyama scowled, his face turning red. “Shut up! I knew you were going to screw it up.”
“Oh yeah?” Hinata reached into his bag and dramatically whipped out the meeting minutes he had taken. He slapped them onto the table between them with a loud thud. “Does this look like a screw-up to you?”
Kageyama stared at the papers, then at Hinata, his irritation faltering as he begrudgingly skimmed the notes. “...Okay, maybe not this time,” he admitted reluctantly, his voice barely above a mutter.
Hinata beamed, jabbing a finger into Kageyama’s chest. “Admit it. I saved your ass.”
Kageyama shot him a side glance, his expression softening for just a moment before he grumbled, “Shut up, dumbass.”
Hinata sat at his desk, absently tapping his pen against the edge of a folder, lost in thought. The office was quieter than usual, the hum of the air conditioning the only sound filling the room. He couldn’t help but smile a little.
A few months ago, the mere thought of being in the same room as Kageyama without getting yelled at seemed impossible. Back then, it was all tension—heated glares, sarcastic remarks, Kageyama’s gruff, dismissive attitude. But now… now, things were different. Sure, they still clashed, but there was something else, too. A strange understanding between them. A recognition that despite the constant bickering, they were actually working better together.
Hinata had learned how to adapt—how to anticipate Kageyama’s next demand, how to get things done without making him blow a fuse. And Kageyama? He'd started relying on him more. Hinata noticed the smallest signs: Kageyama now actually asked for his opinion during meetings, even if it was just a grunt of approval afterward. It was something. Progress, right?
Hinata glanced at the clock. He was just starting to feel good about the day when—
BAM!
The door to the office slammed open, and there he was—Kageyama, looking as stormy as ever.
“Hinata!”
Hinata winced, already bracing himself. Kageyama’s voice was like thunder, and everyone in the office was used to it by now. Still, Hinata couldn’t help but jump a little.
“What did I tell you about the charts?!” Kageyama stormed up to Hinata’s desk, tossing a printout onto it. The report was a mess of color-coded graphs and percentages, but the formatting? Horrible. “What is this? I told you to make it clean, not a disaster!”
Hinata blinked, staring at the pages. He had followed Kageyama’s exact instructions, hadn’t he? He opened his mouth to argue, but something in the way Kageyama was looking at him—like a mixture of frustration and... something else—made him bite back the words.
“I... I thought it was fine, boss,” Hinata muttered, his voice small despite the usual boldness he liked to project.
Kageyama’s eyes narrowed, and Hinata braced for the tirade. But instead of shouting more, Kageyama simply gritted his teeth, exhaled sharply, and crossed his arms.
“You’re lucky I’m not making you redo the whole thing.” His voice was still harsh, but there was no ear-splitting yell. “Just… fix it. Get it right next time, okay?”
Hinata let out a breath of relief. That wasn’t so bad. Maybe there was a sliver of progress in there after all. He nodded, avoiding eye contact as he grabbed the report, eager to make the necessary changes.
“Fine,” he said, trying to sound confident.
Kageyama turned to leave, but then paused, glancing back over his shoulder with an almost imperceptible sigh.
Before he could say anything in return, the door opened again.
Sugawara, always the calm and collected one, strolled in with a fresh stack of papers under his arm.
"Ah, Kageyama," Sugawara began, his smile warm but knowing. "The quarterly report's ready. I'll make sure it gets to you."
Kageyama barely looked at him, his face still fixed in its signature scowl.
“ Fine. ” He didn’t even offer a thanks, just a sharp wave of his hand as if Sugawara was an employee passing him a coffee.
Sugawara chuckled lightly, unfazed, and handed the report to Hinata. "Here. You can deliver it to him, right?"
Hinata glanced at Sugawara, then back at Kageyama, who was already storming off. He sighed, rubbing his temples.
“Yeah,” Hinata said with a grin, his voice still a little tired but affectionate. “I guess this means I’m officially his delivery boy now.”
Sugawara winked. “Progress, right?”
Kageyama slammed the door open to his office, the draft of the quarterly report in his hands. His jaw clenched as he scanned through the pages, growing more and more frustrated.
It was incomplete .
A draft .
A complete mess of the quarterly report!
Incomplete , rushed , and—he gritted his teeth— half-assed .
He looked at the top of the page, seeing Hinata’s name at the top. The anger flared in his chest as he stormed out of his office and toward Hinata’s desk.
Hinata…
Without a word, he slapped the report down onto Hinata’s desk with enough force to rattle the papers.
“This!” Kageyama barked, pointing down at the papers. “What is this, Hinata?!”
Hinata looked up, blinking in confusion. “What? The charts again?”
“The report, you idiot!” Kageyama snapped; voice low but seething. “You’ve been given a clear assignment, and this”—he waved the papers angrily—“this is what you turn in? It’s a draft, Hinata. It’s incomplete!”
Hinata’s confusion deepened as he leaned forward. “I did what you asked me to! I used the templates like you said! Everything’s in there!”
“Templates?” Kageyama growled, his voice rising. “You need a lot more than just templates to fix this garbage! This whole thing is a mess!”
Hinata’s defensive posture hardened. “The charts are exactly how you asked! I used the templates! What do you want from me?!”
Kageyama took a breath, his frustration mounting. “The charts are not the problem, you idiot. The entire report is garbage! It’s incomplete, it’s formatted wrong, and—did you even check the numbers?!”
“You said it was just the charts! Now its the whole report?” Hinata’s face flushed with frustration, standing up from his chair. “I did check! I double-checked everything! What are you yelling about?!”
Kageyama slammed his hand onto the desk, sending a small shockwave through the papers. “I’m yelling because this is ridiculous! This isn’t what I asked for, Hinata! This is a joke! Are you even taking this seriously?”
Hinata’s eyes widened, his temper flaring as he threw his hands up. “I am taking it seriously! You think I’m not?! You told me to fix the charts, so I did! I followed your instructions!”
Kageyama’s glare turned icy. “It’s not just about the charts, Hinata! It’s about everything— everything is wrong! You’re wasting my time and the company’s time with this nonsense! Do you even care about your job?” Kageyama’s face twisted in anger. “You’re not trying hard enough, Hinata!”
Kageyama’s hands were shaking with anger, and he took a step closer, his tone venomous. “Maybe if you took this job seriously for once, you’d stop making mistakes like this. Maybe you’re just coasting because my grandfather took a liking to you. You think this is a joke? ”
Hinata froze. The words hit him like a punch to the gut. He tried to speak, but his voice caught in his throat.
“What…?” Hinata whispered, feeling the sting of Kageyama’s harsh words.
“You heard me,” Kageyama spat, stepping back and crossing his arms. “You’re just here because of him, aren’t you? You don’t actually care about this job. You just want to ride on his coattails and play at being useful. You’re a joke.”
The air in the room felt suffocating, and for a long moment, neither of them spoke. Hinata’s face turned pale, the hurt evident in his eyes, but he didn’t know how to respond. His hands balled into fists at his sides.
Kageyama stared at him, his breath coming in quick bursts. He hadn’t expected to say that, but the frustration had taken over. The words felt out of place even as they left his mouth.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The room was thick with tension, and Kageyama stood, staring down at Hinata, breathing hard. Hinata’s chest was rising and falling quickly as well, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.
Hinata finally glanced down at the papers on his desk, then back at Kageyama. The sting from his words still burned, but he couldn’t bring himself to respond. He wanted to say something, anything to defend himself, but Kageyama wasn’t listening. And frankly, Hinata was tired of arguing.
He reached for the draft, picking it up and glancing at it one last time, feeling the weight of everything Kageyama had said.
“Fine,” Hinata muttered, voice quieter now, though the anger was still there. “I’ll fix it. Whatever.”
But before Kageyama could say anything else, Hinata grabbed the papers, turned, and walked away. His steps were sharp, quick, the sound of his shoes echoing in the tense silence.
Kageyama stood there, watching him leave. His heart was pounding, and for a moment, the anger in him began to settle, replaced by something unfamiliar.
He had said too much.
Kageyama flipped through his papers; his brow furrowed in concentration. The report was supposed to be finalized by now, and the last thing he needed was another issue to deal with. Just as he thought he could focus on the numbers in front of him, a voice interrupted.
“I wanted to apologize for earlier.”
Kageyama barely looked up. His voice was clipped and dismissive. “What for, Sugawara?”
Sugawara shifted slightly, his expression a mix of guilt and regret. “You see, I accidentally printed out a draft of the quarterly report.” He paused, waiting for Kageyama’s reaction, but the younger man said nothing, only continuing to scribble notes. “I gave it to Hinata to submit to you.”
Kageyama froze, his pen hovering over the page. His eyes flicked to the report in front of him, then to the now-empty desk outside. Hinata’s desk.
“I saw that he took the heat for my mistake.” Sugawara added, a hint of shame in his voice. “I wanted you to know it was me, not him. I apologize for my oversight.” He finished with a bow.
Kageyama’s eyes narrowed, his irritation rising once more. He set his pen down slowly, exhaling sharply before looking up. “It’s his fault for not checking what he was submitting.”
Sugawara’s gaze softened, sensing the underlying tension. He spoke with a quiet determination. “If I may, Kageyama-sama…” He hesitated for a moment, then pressed on. “Why do you resent Hinata?”
Kageyama’s eyes snapped up to Sugawara, his sharp tone cutting through the silence. “Excuse me?”
Sugawara stood his ground, trying to keep the conversation calm. “Yes, Hinata makes mistakes. But from where we’re sitting, it looks like you’re harder on him than anyone else.”
Kageyama’s face hardened as he scoffed, the edge in his voice unmistakable. “He makes more mistakes than anyone else. He’s incompetent. He has no formalized education. He makes a joke of everyone else’s hard work.” His words were like daggers, each one tinged with frustration and perhaps a bit of resentment, though he refused to admit it.
“I heard he did exceptionally well during the Aoba Johsai meeting.”
Kageyama’s jaw clenched. He wasn’t willing to admit his work. Not yet.
“You know, I saw the way my grandfather had to clean up after his mistakes after all these years.” Kageyama sneered at the memory. “How he would mess up formatting and reports. My grandfather was constantly having to correct him. He was working for the CEO for crying out loud. Show some effort.”
Sugawara’s expression softened, but there was a knowing sadness in his eyes. “Kageyama-sama…” He paused, carefully choosing his next words. “I’m not saying this because I feel guilty that Hinata took the blame for what I did… but Hinata is probably the hardest worker there is. I think your grandfather sees that too.”
“That’s nonsense.” Kageyama replied immediately, his voice thick with disbelief. “He’s stupid too. He bikes to work every day. Does he not know how trains work?”
Sugawara’s face shifted ever so slightly, a soft smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Do you know why he does it?”
Kageyama glared at him, still unconvinced. “Because he’s an idiot.”
Sugawara’s eyes softened, a hint of warmth behind them as he leaned forward. “He bikes to work because he knows that by the time he’s finished work, the last train of the evening will be long gone.”
Kageyama paused, his expression faltering for the briefest moment. His eyes darted back to the door, as though expecting Hinata to walk in at any second. But there was no sign of him.
“You never noticed?” Sugawara pressed gently. “I’m surprised, considering how much you pay attention to his every move.” He let out a small, nervous chuckle, but Kageyama didn’t respond to it.
Kageyama stared at Sugawara for a moment, the anger simmering inside him now mixed with a feeling he couldn’t quite place—was it guilt? Confusion? He didn’t know. But the thought of Hinata, out there on his bike in the cold, late into the night, unsettled him in a way he wasn’t prepared for.
“What are you talking about?” Kageyama muttered, trying to shake off the feeling.
Sugawara’s gaze remained steady, understanding the underlying conflict in Kageyama’s demeanor. “He bikes to work every day because he works later than all of us.” Sugawara’s voice was quiet, almost reverent as he spoke of Hinata’s dedication.
Kageyama’s lips parted, as if to respond, but the words caught in his throat. He had never considered that. Hinata always seemed so… careless. So reckless. But this—this was different.
Sugawara took a step back, giving Kageyama space to process. “He’s not perfect, Kageyama-sama. But he works harder than anyone else here. He might not be as polished as you or as organized, but he’s determined. And he cares. Maybe if you gave him a little more credit, you’d see that too.”
Kageyama didn’t speak immediately. The silence between them stretched long, and he couldn’t quite shake the image of Hinata, exhausted and determined, riding home alone. Something in his chest tightened—was it guilt? Or perhaps something more?
Finally, Kageyama glanced down at the papers on his desk. “I don’t have time for this.” He muttered, though there was no real conviction in his voice. He needed a moment to think. A moment to process the strange mix of emotions Sugawara had stirred up in him.
Sugawara gave a small bow. “I just wanted you to understand, Kageyama-sama.”
As Kageyama looked up, Sugawara had already left, his footsteps fading down the hall. The room felt quieter than before—he felt quieter. And for the first time, he couldn’t help but wonder…
Hinata stood at the edge of the rooftop, gazing out at the skyline as the sun began to dip below the horizon. The air was thick with the scent of rain that was soon to come, and the sky, a bruised shade of purple, seemed to hang heavy with the impending storm. His thoughts were just as tumultuous, swirling with confusion, doubt, and lingering hurt. The familiar hum of the city around him felt distant, almost drowned out by the noise inside his mind.
"Beautiful evening."
The voice sliced through the silence, catching Hinata off guard. He quickly turned around, his breath catching in his throat as he found himself face-to-face with CEO Kageyama. The older man’s presence was as commanding as ever, his usual stoic expression softened by something unreadable in his eyes.
“Kageyama-sama,” Hinata breathed, his heart skipping a beat. “W-What are you doing here?”
The elder Kageyama took a step closer, his gaze steady, studying him. "I know you like to come here when you're troubled."
Hinata stiffened, trying to shake off the flood of emotions crashing over him. “I…I’m not troubled.” He said the words a little too quickly, but Kageyama’s sharp eyes caught the tremor in his voice.
The CEO tilted his head slightly, a small, almost imperceptible smile grazing his lips. “What’s on your mind?”
Hinata’s mind replayed the harsh words Kageyama had thrown at him earlier that day.
You’re a joke.
The sting of those words cut through him again, sharper than before, and his throat tightened.
“Kageyama-sama…” Hinata began, his voice faltering. “W-Why did you hire me?” He could feel the sob building in his chest, choking the words as they left his lips. His eyes threatened to spill over, but he fought to keep them at bay.
Kageyama looked at him, his expression softening, though his eyes remained focused, unwavering. “Why do you think?”
Hinata hesitated, his mind a whirl of insecurities. “I thought it was because I was quick…” he started, his voice low. “Because I could get information fast, and I could use it in meetings and negotiations… but any graduate can do that… I don’t have a formalized background. I never graduated from a university. This was my first job. There’s so much top talent out there that would fight to have my spot and…” Do better than me.
The Elder Kageyama’s gaze didn’t waver. “Feeling unsure of yourself is unbecoming of you, Hinata.”
Hinata looked down, trying to regain control. His hands were trembling slightly, but he tucked them into his pockets, willing the shaking to stop. “It’s… been a tough day.” he muttered.
“How so?”
“I thought me and Kageyama were finally starting to see eye to eye. I was wrong…”
The CEO’s eyes flickered with something like understanding, though he kept his voice steady. “You say that you’re unsure of yourself because you are not the ‘conventional’ employee.”
Hinata paused, a hesitant breath escaping him. “Yeah… that’s a good way of putting it,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.
The elder Kageyama nodded slowly, the faintest glimmer of approval in his expression. “Well, is Karasuno Inc. a conventional company?”
Hinata blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the question. He thought about it—Karasuno was anything but conventional. The company had built its reputation on innovation, adaptability, and an almost reckless ability to break norms and rebuild them as they saw fit. It was why they were known as the Crows—quick, adaptable, and ever-changing.
“No…” Hinata said, his voice gaining strength as the pieces clicked into place. “No, it’s not.”
“Have we ever been a conventional company?” He added with a warm chuckle.
Hinata smiled, the weight from his heart lifting ever so slightly. “Not at all…”
The CEO's smile grew a little wider, though his expression remained composed. “I hired you, Hinata,” he continued, his voice warm yet firm. “Because you are smart, quick-witted. You think outside of the box. You don’t have a problem using unconventional means. You also aren’t afraid to fight dirty. You challenge those around you because of your unusual methods. You get results because of your approach. No amount of formalized education or job referrals can get you what you have.”
Hinata felt his face heat up, the warmth flooding his cheeks as the weight of Kageyama-sama’s words sank in. He didn’t know how to respond—he’d never expected to hear such praise, especially from the CEO himself.
“I’m sorry for the trouble my grandson has been causing you,” The elder Kageyama added, his voice suddenly softer.
Hinata let out a bitter laugh, the sound sharp in the quiet evening. “Your grandson is a jerk,” he hissed, unable to hold back the frustration. The words slipped out before he could stop them, but to his surprise, the CEO didn’t react with anger.
Instead, he chuckled, the sound surprisingly light. “Ah—unconventional indeed,” he said, wiping a mock tear from his eye. “But when Tobio takes on the CEO position, he will need someone by his side who can challenge him. Someone who can meet him without fear. Tobio has excelled at everything he’s ever done. He’s never been properly challenged before, and I fear when that day comes, it may come too late, and he’ll suffer more than he needs to.”
Hinata paused, taking in his former boss' words. He knew the elder Kageyama had high expectations for his grandson, but hearing it laid bare like that gave him a new sense of the weight the older man carried.
“That is why I chose you for him,” Kageyama-sama continued, his voice steady, though a trace of vulnerability lingered. “I will not be here forever. And when I’m long gone, I want someone like you by his side. Challenging him, questioning him, making him better.”
Hinata’s heart swelled with an unexpected mix of pride and responsibility. The weight of the CEO's words wasn’t lost on him, and he could feel the tears threatening to spill over once more. He swallowed hard, nodding quickly. “Do you understand now?”
“Y-Yes…” Hinata’s voice trembled, but this time it wasn’t from doubt—it was from the depth of emotion swirling inside him. The validation he’d been craving for so long was finally here, but it came with a weight he wasn’t sure he could bear.
Thunder rumbled above them, a deep, resonant sound that seemed to mirror the emotions thrumming in Hinata’s chest. The first raindrops fell, cold and steady, as the elder Kageyama laughed softly, his eyes twinkling with something akin to amusement.
“Looks like you better go home,” Kageyama-sama said, his voice light, as he looked out over the rooftop. “Wouldn’t want you biking home in the rain.”
Hinata managed a small, almost shy smile, the storm above and the one inside him both feeling a little less intense. “Yeah… I guess you’re right.” He wiped his eyes quickly, trying to shake off the flood of emotions.
As Hinata turned to leave, CEO Kageyama’s gaze lingered on him for a moment longer, something unreadable flickering in his expression. The rain fell harder now, but the storm within him had begun to settle, just a little.
The CEO watched as Hinata disappeared through the rooftop door, the slam echoing faintly behind him. He let out a weary sigh, his gaze drifting back to the glittering Tokyo skyline. The city buzzed below, alive with the hum of possibility and chaos.
"Eavesdropping is not very polite, Tobio," the CEO said, his voice calm but laced with a hint of amusement.
A shadow shifted near the stairwell, and Tobio Kageyama stepped forward, shoulders stiff with guilt. "I'm sorry, Grandfather," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.
The elder Kageyama turned, his eyes sharp but kind. "You two," he said, shaking his head. "Both such troublemakers." He paused, folding his hands behind his back as he regarded his grandson carefully. "But tell me, Tobio—do you understand now?"
Tobio hesitated, the faint scowl on his face betraying his inner turmoil. "...I think I do," he admitted, though the words felt heavy on his tongue.
The CEO nodded, stepping closer. "Tobio, you are good," he said with measured gravity. "But you are not invincible. No one is."
Tobio clenched his fists at his sides, his frustration bubbling over. "I just don’t understand why it has to be him!" he burst out. "He’s so stubborn, and rude, and reckless. He doesn’t follow processes, and he’s so competitive about every little thing—"
"Does that," the CEO interrupted with a knowing smile, "sound like someone you know?"
Tobio froze mid-sentence, his eyes widening slightly. The realization hit him like a cold splash of water. His protests trailed off into silence as he stared at his grandfather, the weight of the comparison sinking in.
The CEO chuckled softly. "Ah, there it is," he said, his voice tinged with both fondness and exasperation. "Tobio, you and Hinata are not so different. You are both relentless in your own ways. But that is why you challenge each other. Why you bring out the best—and sometimes the worst—in one another."
Tobio looked away, his jaw tightening. He hated how true those words felt.
His grandfather's voice softened. "Tobio, you will need someone better by your side to succeed. Someone who sees things you do not. Who approaches the world from a perspective you cannot always understand." He placed a firm hand on Tobio's shoulder, forcing him to meet his gaze. "You cannot climb alone. Not forever."
Tobio swallowed hard, the weight of his grandfather's words settling heavily in his chest. For a moment, he thought of Hinata's determined eyes, his endless energy, the way he threw himself into things without fear of failure.
"I still think he's an idiot," Tobio muttered, but there was no bite in his tone.
The CEO laughed, a deep, hearty sound that echoed in the crisp rooftop air. "Then he’s exactly the kind of idiot you need."
The streets of Tokyo glistened under the relentless downpour, each raindrop striking against the pavement with a percussive rhythm. The rain came down in sheets, turning the city into a hazy blur of lights and shadows. Kageyama gripped the steering wheel tightly, his jaw clenched as he scanned the streets. His pristine Lexus crawled through the torrents, its wipers working overtime. He could barely see five feet ahead, but he wasn’t about to give up. Not yet.
This is stupid, he thought bitterly, turning a corner.
Water splashed onto the curb as his tires rolled through a deep puddle. He exhaled sharply. Why am I doing this? He didn’t owe Hinata anything. If anything, Hinata had brought this on himself—well, not entirely. Maybe 60 percent. Maybe 70. Kageyama’s mind flashed back to the cutting remarks he’d thrown at the man earlier in the day, words laced with frustration and pressure.
Ok, fine. Maybe I’m guilty.
But guilt wasn’t the real reason he was out here, driving through a storm. Was it? The thought of Hinata—Hinata of all people—biking through this downpour after everything that had happened twisted something deep in his chest. It was an unfamiliar sensation; one he didn’t want to name.
And then, through the veil of rain, Kageyama saw it: a small, fiery streak against the gray. Hinata’s soaked orange hair stuck out like a beacon as he pedaled furiously down the drenched road, his drenched hoodie clinging to his back.
Kageyama pulled up beside him, his Lexus slowing to match the speed of Hinata’s bicycle. Rolling down the window, rain immediately assaulted the interior, but he didn’t care.
“Hinata!” he called, his voice cutting through the downpour.
Hinata turned his head sharply, his bike skidding to a halt. He planted one foot firmly on the ground as the rain streamed down his face. His eyes darted up in surprise, before melting into anger as he realized who it was. His expression was pure venom.
“You!” Hinata snarled, his voice shaking with fury. “You’re stupid, and I hate you!”
Ok. Kageyama could admit that he deserved that one.
“Yeah? Well, you’re stupider, and I hate you more!” The retort flew out of him before he could stop it, a reflex born from years of their bickering.
Hinata’s jaw dropped, his face contorting with rage. “Go away!” he barked, slamming the handlebars with a wet slap. “I don’t want to see your stupid face outside of work!”
The rain pounded harder, masking the silence that hung between them. Only the muted roar of distant traffic filled the space.
“I know it wasn’t you who wrote the quarterly report,” Kageyama finally said, his voice steadier now.
Hinata’s eyes narrowed, his lips twisting into a bitter smirk. “Wow. Glad you could figure that out, Captain Genius. What’s next? You gonna yell at me for HR’s mistakes, too?”
Kageyama bit back the sharp retort on his tongue. “Hinata, I’m trying to apologize.”
The words seemed to stun Hinata into silence. His eyes widened, the fire in them momentarily extinguished. “What?” he managed, his voice soft and uncertain.
“Get in the car. I’ll take you home.”
Hinata’s face hardened again, the flicker of softness vanishing like a mirage. “No!”
“Get in the car,” Kageyama repeated, more firmly this time.
“I’m not getting in your stupid Mercedes!” Hinata shot back, crossing his arms in defiance.
“It’s a Lexus, you idiot!” Kageyama snapped, his composure cracking. “And I’m trying to do something nice, so get in!”
“Well, your ‘nice’ is stupid, and you’re stupid!”
“That’s it—” Kageyama growled, throwing the car door open with a slam. He stormed toward Hinata, his frustration boiling over.
Hinata’s eyes widened in alarm. “What are you—”
Before he could finish, Kageyama grabbed his arm firmly, yanking him forward. “I said, get in the car! ”
Hinata struggled against him, pulling back with all his might. “Let me go, you jerk!”
In their scuffle, Hinata lost his footing. His bike tipped to the side, and for a brief, heart-stopping moment, he began to fall.
Then, with a sharp gasp, Kageyama’s hand shot out, his fingers closing around Hinata’s wrist like a lifeline.
Time seemed to slow as their eyes met—Hinata’s wide with surprise, Kageyama’s sharp with focus. Rain dripped from their faces, their breaths mingling in the cold, damp air.
Kageyama’s grip tightened, the warmth of Hinata’s skin under his fingers cutting through the chill. Something shifted inside him, an unfamiliar jolt that started in his chest and traveled lower, stealing his breath. His heart thudded loudly in his ears, drowning out the rain and the distant hum of traffic.
The heat of Hinata's wrist beneath his fingertips burned like fire, stark against the icy rain. Something inside Kageyama shifted violently, like a door flung open to reveal a storm raging on the other side. It started in his chest, a wild, erratic thud of his heart, before sinking deeper, knotting his stomach and stealing the breath from his lungs.
“Kageyama…” Hinata whispered, his voice soft, stripped of its usual sharpness. The sound was so uncharacteristic, so tender, that it froze Kageyama in place. For the first time, his name wasn’t laced with malice, defiance, or exasperation. Hearing Hinata say his name this way felt almost… forbidden. Like he’d stumbled upon a secret.
And yet, Kageyama couldn’t stop replaying it in his mind, the syllables wrapping around his heart and squeezing.
Kageyama swallowed hard, his jaw tightening as he wrestled with the storm brewing inside him. He didn’t know what was happening, but he couldn’t deny it anymore. This wasn’t just frustration. This wasn’t just guilt.
The rain fell harder, its rhythm matching the erratic pounding in his chest.
This was something else entirely.