𝑹𝒊𝒗𝒂𝒍𝒔 𝒂𝒕 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕 💫

The ball that began it all

It was truly a mistake, he swears.

The cool autumn breeze lapped against Hinata's cheeks as he practiced drills in the supermarket parking lot, his breath steady and focused. Most people passing by gave him strange, pointed looks, but he didn't care. His world shrank down to the ball at his feet, the rhythm of its bouncing against the asphalt, the feel of it under his control—or the lack thereof, as it often was. He was getting better, though. Nowhere near as clean as the players he watched online, but there was progress, and that was all that mattered.

He'd been at it for a while now, so immersed in his own world that he didn't notice the small girl perched on the grass beside a white car, diligently coloring with a set of crayons. She was in her own world too, a world of colors and shapes, unaware of the orange-haired boy's determined practice just a few feet away.

All it took was one errant kick. Hinata, aiming for a neat control touch, sent the ball flying too far to the left. Panic set in as the ball arced dangerously close to the nearby car, and without thinking, he sprinted after it. He didn't want to risk damaging someone's property, so he dove, slid across the pavement, and managed to swat the ball back with a desperate hit. The ball flew behind him, and for a brief moment, he felt relief.

That is, until he heard the "thump."

A panicked shout echoed across the lot, snapping him out of his relieved daze. Whipping around, Hinata saw the ball collide with the head of the girl who had been quietly drawing just moments before. She yelped in pain, her hands flying to her head as her crayons scattered to the ground. Tears welled up in her eyes, more from shock than pain, but the anger bubbling beneath the surface was unmistakable.

Hinata froze, his heart sinking. He wanted to disappear, to melt into the pavement and pretend this had never happened. But his mother hadn't raised him to run away from his mistakes, so even though anxiety gnawed at him with every step, he forced himself to approach the girl.

"Hey, I'm sorry!" he shouted as he reached her, his voice cracking slightly. "My bad." He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to muster a sheepish smile.

The girl finally looked up at him, and Hinata was taken aback by the sheer intensity in her eyes. Her brows were furrowed in anger, her lips pursed in a pout that might have been cute under different circumstances. Her blond hair fluttered in the breeze, and her hand still clutched her head as if she couldn't believe what had just happened.

For a moment, despite himself, Hinata felt the corners of his lips twitch upwards. She just looked so comically indignant, like a kitten trying to be a tiger. But the hint of a smile only seemed to enrage her further. Her cheeks flushed with a mixture of pain and fury as she glared at him, her free hand balling into a fist.

Feeling a pang of guilt, Hinata offered her his hand. "I'm really sorry," he repeated, more sincerely this time. "I didn't mean to—"

The girl's eyes dropped to his outstretched hand, and she stared at it as if it were some alien object. The silence stretched on uncomfortably, and Hinata's confidence wavered. Slowly, he retracted his hand, stuffing it awkwardly into his pocket. "I'm Shoyo," he added, trying to salvage the situation. "Shoyo Hinata."

Her gaze didn't move from his hand for a second, even as it disappeared into his pocket. When she finally spoke, her voice was laced with venom. "Who asks a girl her name after hitting her in the head?"

Hinata blinked, caught off guard by the sharpness in her tone. "I—I'm sorry?"

"All you've done is apologize," she snapped, her voice rising. "But I saw you. You smiled when I got hurt." She narrowed her eyes at him, her small frame trembling with barely contained rage. "Listen here, Shoyo. I don't like you. So don't you ever apologize if you don't mean it."

The way she said his name sent a shiver down Hinata's spine. There was something about the way it rolled off her tongue, laced with such pure, unfiltered hatred, that intrigued him. It was as if she'd taken that single syllable and wrapped it in barbed wire. And yet, despite the sting in her words, he found himself wanting to hear her say it again. It was ridiculous, really, but there was something oddly enticing about her fiery spirit.

Before he could come up with a response, he heard his mother's voice calling from the entrance of the store. "Shoyo! Help me with the bags, please?"

He hesitated, torn between his growing fascination with this angry, little girl and his mother's call. "Coming!" he shouted back. Turning to face the girl once more, he couldn't resist smirking at the sight of her flushed cheeks, the red creeping up to her ears.

She was fuming, practically shaking with anger, and he found it strangely amusing. It wasn't every day he met someone who could stand up to him like this—someone who could go toe-to-toe with his stubbornness. He was about to walk away when a sudden impulse made him pause. Leaning in close, he whispered in her ear, "I like it when you call me Shoyo..."

Her entire body stiffened, and she whipped around, eyes blazing with a retort ready on her lips. But before she could say anything, Hinata was already jogging past her, scooping up his ball with a quick, practiced motion.

He didn't look back, but he could feel her glare boring into the back of his head as he trotted toward the store. There was no doubt in his mind that she was seething with rage, probably thinking up all sorts of creative ways to get back at him. And for some inexplicable reason, that thought made his heart race with excitement.

Yachi Hitoka decided then and there that she hated Shoyo Hinata with every fiber of her being. There was no room for negotiation, no chance for redemption. Whoever this infuriating, orange-haired boy was, he had earned her eternal loathing in the span of five minutes. And yet, as she watched him disappear into the store, a small part of her couldn't help but wonder if she'd ever see him again. The thought made her scowl.

But if there was one thing she was sure of, it was that she would never, ever let him see her smile. He didn't deserve that, not after what he'd done. Not after he'd made her feel so humiliated and so... alive.

And so, as Yachi gathered up her scattered crayons with trembling hands, she made a silent vow, that she would make Shoyo Hinata regret ever crossing paths with her. No matter how long it took.

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End of chapter 1.