Chapter Text
FROM CONCRETE TO CHAMPION
And How One Small Plush Helped Reform Child Welfare
-
Daichi knew Hinata was early.
That was normal.
What wasn’t normal was the silence.
The gym should’ve echoed by now—shoes squeaking, Hinata’s voice bouncing off the walls as he talked too fast and moved too much, the sound of a volleyball being hit way before warmups officially started.
Instead, there was nothing.
Daichi unlocked the gym doors with a frown, his breath fogging faintly in the cold morning air. November mornings bit harder than people expected. He’d already scolded Hinata twice this month for biking too fast in the dark, once for skipping breakfast because he “wasn’t hungry yet.”
He told himself that was normal too.
He’s energetic.
He’s stubborn.
He’s fifteen.
The key turned. The door opened.
Still no Hinata.
Daichi checked the clock.
Too early to panic.
Too late for comfort.
He set his bag down, rolled his shoulders, and stepped back outside to check the perimeter—habit more than worry.
That’s when he saw him.
Hinata wasn’t by the doors.
He was around the side of the building.
On the concrete.
Daichi stopped so abruptly his heel scraped against the pavement.
“No,” he muttered under his breath, already moving.
Hinata was curled tightly against the gym wall, knees pulled to his chest, jacket wrapped around himself like it was trying—and failing—to do the job of a blanket. His backpack was tucked under his head. His bike helmet sat beside him like he’d taken it off as an afterthought.
Bright orange hair stood out painfully against the gray pavement.
Too still.
Daichi’s chest constricted.
“Hinata,” he said sharply, crouching down. “Hinata.”
Nothing.
His pulse spiked.
Daichi didn’t hesitate. He shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over Hinata’s shoulders, hands firm, practiced—like he’d done this before in some other life.
Hinata startled awake immediately.
A sharp breath. A flinch. Then—
“Captain?” His voice was rough, sleep-thick, confused. “Is it… practice time?”
That did it.
Daichi clenched his jaw so hard his teeth ached.
“What are you doing out here,” he asked, hating how carefully he had to keep his voice steady.
Hinata blinked up at him, eyes unfocused but trusting. Always trusting.
“I didn’t wanna be late,” he said simply. “The bus leaves really early, and if I went home, I’d barely sleep anyway. This was easier.”
Easier.
Daichi closed his eyes.
Not because he was angry.
Because he suddenly understood.
All the early arrivals.
The skipped meals.
The way Hinata brushed off being tired like it was a personality trait instead of a warning sign.
Daichi had known him.
That was the part that hurt the most.
“You slept here,” Daichi said flatly.
Hinata nodded, already trying to sit up. “It’s fine! I wasn’t cold for most of it.”
Daichi caught him by the shoulder and gently but firmly pushed him back down.
“No,” he said. “You don’t get to decide that.”
Hinata frowned faintly. “Huh?”
“You’re fifteen,” Daichi continued, voice low but absolute. “You don’t sleep on concrete in November because you’re afraid of being late.”
Hinata’s brow furrowed, confused. “…But the team—”
“The team would wait,” Daichi cut in. “I would wait.”
That landed.
Hinata went very still.
“Oh,” he said quietly.
Daichi swallowed hard.
Because there it was.
That single word—the realization that he didn’t know he was allowed to rely on anyone.
Daichi pulled his jacket tighter around Hinata and shifted so he was blocking the wind without thinking.
“Why didn’t you tell me,” he asked softly.
Hinata’s fingers twisted into the fabric of the jacket. “…I didn’t wanna be a problem.”
Something in Daichi’s chest cracked open—slow, deep, and irreversible.
“You’re not,” he said immediately. “You never were.”
Hinata looked at him like that was brand new information.
Daichi stood and offered his hand again—this time not as a question.
“Get up,” he said. “You’re coming with me.”
“Where?”
“My house,” Daichi replied, like it was obvious. “You’re not sleeping outside again.”
Hinata hesitated—just a second.
Then he took Daichi’s hand.
His fingers were freezing.
Daichi wrapped his grip around them and pulled him up, steady and solid.
As they walked toward the gym doors, Daichi felt the weight of it settle fully into his bones.
He hadn’t found a stranger on the concrete.
He’d found a teammate.
A kid he already cared about.
A kid who had been quietly surviving right in front of him.
And suddenly, all the excuses Daichi had made—he’s fine, he’s tough, he’ll say something if it’s bad—fell apart.
This wasn’t a close call.
This was the line.
And Daichi crossed it without hesitation.
Never again, he thought grimly. Not while I’m here.
The sun crept higher over Karasuno High.
And the captain of its volleyball team stopped being just a captain.
---
Daichi didn’t say much on the walk home.
Not because he didn’t have anything to say—but because if he opened his mouth, something sharp and furious might come out, and Hinata didn’t deserve that.
Hinata walked beside him, clutching Daichi’s jacket closed with both hands like it might disappear if he loosened his grip. His steps were short, careful, like he was trying not to take up space. Like he was bracing for the moment Daichi would change his mind.
Daichi noticed.
Of course he did.
“You’re not in trouble,” Daichi said eventually, voice steady.
Hinata looked up immediately. “I know!”
He said it too fast.
Daichi stopped walking.
Hinata froze.
That—that right there. The immediate fear response. The way his shoulders tensed like he was waiting to be corrected just for existing.
Daichi exhaled slowly and crouched so they were eye level.
“Sho-chan,” he said quietly. “Look at me.”
Hinata did.
“I’m not mad at you,” Daichi said. “I’m mad that this happened. Those are different things.”
Hinata’s brow furrowed. “…They are?”
“Yes,” Daichi said firmly. “And you’re allowed to ask questions when you don’t understand.”
Hinata nodded slowly, like he was filing that away for later.
They continued walking.
---
Daichi’s house was warm.
It hit Hinata the moment the door closed behind them—the heat, the quiet hum of the heater, the smell of dinner from the previous evening. It was the kind of warmth that made his shoulders sag all at once, exhaustion finally catching up.
Daichi noticed that too.
“Shoes off,” he said gently. “Bag down.”
Hinata obeyed instantly, lining his shoes up too neatly, hands hovering awkwardly afterward like he wasn’t sure what came next.
“Sit,” Daichi added, nodding toward the couch.
Hinata sat.
He perched on the edge like he expected to be told to move.
Daichi disappeared down the hall and came back with a towel, a clean sweatshirt, and sweatpants that were definitely too big.
“Bath first,” Daichi said. “Then food.”
Hinata blinked. “…Both?”
“Yes,” Daichi said, like that should have been obvious. “You slept on concrete. You get both.”
Hinata swallowed. “Okay.”
Daichi ran the bath himself, testing the water with his wrist the way his mom had taught him years ago. He added a bit of soap—nothing scented too strongly—and left the door cracked.
“Yell if the water’s too hot,” he gently mentioned to Hinata, as he steered his tiny middle blocker into the bathroom.
Hinata nodded, clutching the clothes like they were something fragile.
When the door closed, Daichi leaned against the hallway wall and dragged a hand down his face.
Seventeen, he thought.I’m seventeen.
He felt older.
---
Hinata emerged from the bathroom twenty minutes later, hair damp, cheeks pink, wearing Daichi’s sweatshirt like it might swallow him whole. He looked… smaller. Younger. Like the edges had been sanded down by warmth and safety.
Daichi felt something twist painfully in his chest.
“Kitchen,” he said. “Sit.”
Hinata sat.
Daichi put a bowl of rice in front of him. Soup. Simple grilled fish. Nothing overwhelming.
“Eat,” Daichi said. “Slowly.”
Hinata nodded and obeyed, chewing carefully like he was afraid of doing it wrong.
Halfway through the bowl, his hands started to shake.
Daichi noticed.
He didn’t comment. He just slid a glass of water closer.
Hinata finished eating.
That alone felt like a victory.
---
When the dishes were done, Daichi sat across from Hinata at the table.
“Okay,” he said. “We need to talk.”
Hinata stiffened.
Daichi held up his hand immediately. “This is not a scolding.”
Hinata hesitated, then nodded.
“These are rules,” Daichi continued. “Not punishments. Rules exist so I don’t lose you.”
Hinata blinked.
Daichi took a breath.
“Rule one,” he said. “You do not sleep outside. Ever. Not here. Not school. Not anywhere.”
Hinata nodded immediately. “Okay.”
“Rule two,” Daichi said. “If you’re tired, hungry, hurt, or scared-you tell me.”
Hinata hesitated.
Daichi noticed. “That’s not optional.”
“…Okay,” Hinata said quietly.
“Rule three,” Daichi continued, voice firm but calm. “You do not decide you’re ‘fine’ without checking with me first.”
Hinata frowned. “…Even if I think I am?”
“Especially then,” Daichi said.
Hinata nodded again, slower this time.
“And rule four,” Daichi finished. “You don’t disappear. Ever. If plans change, you tell me. If something goes wrong, you call me.”
Hinata swallowed. “…You won’t be mad?”
Daichi didn’t even hesitate. “No.”
That cracked something.
Hinata’s eyes filled immediately.
“I—I didn’t know I was allowed to do that,” he whispered.
Daichi stood up and crossed the room in two steps, pulling Hinata into a firm, grounding hug.
“You are,” he said into Hinata’s hair. “You always were.”
Hinata clutched the front of Daichi’s sweatshirt, shaking now, guilt and fear finally spilling out all at once.
“I didn’t wanna be a burden,” he cried. “I didn’t wanna mess things up—”
“You’re not a burden,” Daichi said fiercely. “You’re a kid. That’s the job.”
Hinata sobbed harder.
Daichi held him until it passed.
---
Later, when Hinata was tucked into the tiny spare room’s bed, wrapped in clean blankets, Daichi stood in the doorway watching his breathing even out.
Hinata reached out sleepily, fingers brushing the edge of Daichi’s sleeve.
“…You’ll still be here in the morning?” he asked.
Daichi didn’t smile.
He answered like it was a promise carved into stone.
“Yes.”
Hinata relaxed immediately.
Daichi closed the door quietly and leaned his forehead against the frame.
Rules, he realized, weren’t about control.
They were about saying:
I see you.
I’m paying attention.
You don’t have to survive this alone anymore.
And for the first time since he found Hinata on the concrete—
Daichi slept.
_
Hinata woke up before dawn.
Not because he was anxious.
Not because he was cold.
But because his brain had already decided it was time to do something.
He lay very still in the unfamiliar bed, staring at the ceiling. The room was quiet in a way that didn’t hurt. No traffic outside. No echoing hallway. No concrete pressing into his back.
Daichi's house.
The thought made something warm bloom in his chest.
He rolled onto his side and hugged the blanket unconsciously, then froze.
I should help.
The idea struck him with sudden certainty. Helping meant being useful. Being useful meant not being sent away.
He slid out of bed as quietly as possible.
---
Daichi heard him anyway.
He was already awake, sitting at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee and a schedule scribbled on scrap paper. He’d slept—but lightly. The kind of sleep you get when your body doesn’t trust that everything is okay yet.
The faint thump-thump of bare feet made his head snap up.
Hinata peeked around the corner like a guilty cat.
“…Good morning.”
Daichi blinked. “…Why are you awake?”
Hinata brightened, relief flashing across his face at not being immediately scolded. “I wanted to help!”
Daichi set his mug down carefully.
“Okay,” he said slowly. “Help with what?”
Hinata gestured vaguely. “Breakfast. Cleaning. Being useful.”
There it was.
Daichi stood up and crossed the kitchen in two strides.
“Sho-chan,” he said, not unkindly, “come sit.”
Hinata obeyed instantly, perching on a chair.
Daichi crouched in front of him, elbows resting on his knees. “You don’t have to earn your place here.”
Hinata frowned. “…But I want to.”
Daichi nodded. “That’s fine. Wanting to help is fine. Thinking you’ll be kicked out if you don’t is not.”
Hinata’s mouth opened, then closed.
“…I didn’t say that,” he whispered.
“You didn’t have to,” Daichi replied.
He rested a hand on Hinata’s knee—steady, grounding.
“You’re staying because I want you here,” Daichi said. “Not because you’re useful.”
Hinata’s eyes went shiny.
“…Okay,” he said softly.
“Good,” Daichi replied. “Now help by sitting down while I cook.”
Hinata nodded earnestly. “I can do that.”
He lasted exactly forty-five seconds before bouncing in place.
Daichi sighed fondly. “Close enough.”
---
They walked to school together.
That was the moment it really happened.
Not when Hinata stayed the night. Not when Daichi made rules. But when Daichi adjusted Hinata’s backpack strap automatically and said, without thinking—
“Stick close, little brother.”
Hinata stopped walking.
Daichi realized what he’d said a split second too late.
“Oh,” Daichi muttered. “I-”
Hinata turned slowly, eyes wide.
“…Little brother?”
Daichi straightened, heart pounding. He could walk it back. He could soften it. He could make it temporary.
Instead, he chose honesty.
“Yes,” he said. “If you want.”
Hinata stared at him.
Then-very carefully-he stepped closer, until his sleeve brushed Daichi’s.
“…I want,” he said.
Daichi swallowed.
“Okay,” he said. “Then that’s what you are.”
Hinata beamed like the sun had personally approved.
---
By the time they reached the school gates, Hinata was practically vibrating.
“Does that mean-” he started.
“Yes,” Daichi said immediately.
“I didn’t even ask!”
“I know,” Daichi replied. “The answer’s still yes.”
Hinata laughed, bright and loud, then abruptly stopped.
“…What if I mess up?”
Daichi rested a hand on his head, firm and warm. “Then I will help you fix it. That’s the job.”
Hinata nodded, committing that to memory.
They walked the rest of the way shoulder to shoulder.
---
That afternoon, Sugawara noticed first.
The way Hinata gravitated toward Daichi instinctively. The way Daichi corrected him without irritation. The way Hinata looked at Daichi before doing anything.
“…You adopt him or something?” Suga asked lightly.
Daichi didn’t hesitate. “Yeah.”
Suga blinked. “…Oh.”
Hinata looked between them nervously.
Suga smiled softly. “That explains a lot.”
Hinata relaxed immediately.
Daichi ruffled his hair. “Told you. Not going anywhere.”
---
Daichi bought the crow by accident.
That was how he explained it later, at least.
In truth, it happened on one of those days where everything felt a little too close to falling apart, when Hinata had nearly run into traffic that morning, forgot his lunch, bounced off three walls before noon, and then apologized for existing like it was a reflex.
Daichi had walked into the small shop near the station with one thought looping in his head:
He needs something that stays.
The shop was cluttered and warm, shelves packed tight with trinkets, stationery, cheap toys, and souvenirs no one ever remembered buying. Daichi had meant to grab notebooks. Maybe a pen. Something practical.
Instead, his eyes landed on a small black plush sitting slightly crooked on a lower shelf.
It was a crow.
Not cute in the round, overdesigned way most plush toys were. Simple. Soft. Beady little eyes. Wings stitched close to its body, like it was built to be held, not displayed.
Karasuno. Of course.
Daichi picked it up without thinking.
It fit perfectly in his hands.
“…Huh,” he murmured.
The cashier smiled. “That one’s popular with kids.”
Daichi almost laughed. Kids. Hinata was fifteen and somehow felt both far too old and far too young for everything at once.
He bought it anyway.
Hinata was sprawled on the living room floor when Daichi got home, math homework abandoned in favor of staring at the ceiling and humming tunelessly.
“Sho-chan,” Daichi called. “I got you something.”
Hinata popped up instantly. “Huh?! What?!”
Daichi held out the small paper bag.
Hinata froze.
He took it slowly, like it might vanish if he moved too fast. Opened it. Looked inside.
And then-
His breath caught.
“…A crow,” Hinata whispered.
Daichi braced himself. “If you don’t like it—”
Hinata made a small, broken sound and launched himself forward.
Daichi barely had time to set the bag down before Hinata slammed into his chest, arms tight, face buried, clutching the plush like it was oxygen.
“I love it,” Hinata choked. “I love it I love it I love it-”
Daichi’s arms came up automatically, one hand cradling the back of Hinata’s head, the other pressed between his shoulders.
“Okay,” he murmured, stunned. “Okay. Easy.”
Hinata shook against him.
Daichi felt it then; the way Hinata’s body went soft once he was held, like something finally unclenched. Like he’d been holding himself together by willpower alone.
When Hinata finally pulled back, his eyes were wet and shining.
“…Can I keep him with me?” he asked hesitantly. “All the time?”
Daichi didn’t even think.
“Yes.”
Hinata hugged the crow again immediately, pressing his forehead against its stitched wings.
“I’ll name him,” he said seriously.
Daichi smiled. “What are you going to call him?”
Hinata thought hard.
“…Crow.”
Daichi blinked. “You’re very creative.”
Hinata beamed, unbothered. “He already knows his name.”
From that moment on, Hinata did not put the crow.
Crow went to school.
Crow went to practice.
Crow sat on the bench, tucked carefully into Hinata’s bag, only the top of his head peeking out.
When Hinata got overwhelmed, his fingers found the plush without looking. When noises got too loud, he pressed Crow to his chest. When Daichi raised his voice across the gym, Hinata flinched-then relaxed when he felt Crow still there.
Daichi noticed.
He noticed the way Hinata breathed easier with it. The way his apologies slowed. The way he stopped curling in on himself quite so much.
“Isn’t that… a bit much?” Tanaka asked one day, staring at the crow.
Daichi shot him a look. “Is he hurting anyone?”
“…No.”
“Then mind your business.”
Ukai squinted at it once. “Where’d that come from?”
Daichi shrugged. “Store.”
“…Huh.”
That was the end of it.
The first time Crow got knocked off the bench by a stray volleyball, the gym went silent.
Hinata froze.
Daichi moved.
He caught the plush mid-fall like it was instinct, cradled it in one hand, checked it-actually checked it-then handed it back to Hinata.
“It’s okay,” he said calmly.
Hinata clutched it with shaking hands. “…Okay.”
No one laughed.
No one joked.
Something shifted after t
hat.
Later, Daichi lay awake, staring at the ceiling, listening to Hinata’s steady breathing from the spare room.
Best purchase I ever made, he thought.
Not because it was a crow.
But because it gave Hinata something constant. Something soft. Something that stayed when everything else felt unpredictable.
Something that said:
You’re allowed to need comfort.
You’re allowed to be held.
You’re allowed to be safe.
Daichi rolled onto his side, exhaustion finally pulling him under.
He had no idea yet that the crow would become a legend.
All he knew was that his little brother slept better with it.
And that was enough.