𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊―𝐇.𝐇

71 ; A String Between Us

The late afternoon sun streamed through the tall windows of the school’s old music room, casting warm beams across the dust-speckled air. It was quiet—peaceful in a way that Hinata had grown to treasure. While everyone else was scattered across the school during lunch break, Hinata had slipped away with his guitar, the same one he used to play when he was younger, hidden carefully in a corner closet of the unused classroom.

He sat cross-legged on the floor, guitar balanced comfortably on his knee, fingers picking through a familiar melody. It wasn’t one of ONE SPARK’s songs. It wasn’t even anything famous. Just something he made up on a rainy day—soft, hesitant, but somehow full of everything he couldn’t say out loud.

He hummed as he played, eyes closed, fully immersed.

“What... is this?”
came a voice from the doorway.

Hinata’s eyes flew open in surprise.

There, standing in the entrance of the music room, was Sugawara. His brows were slightly raised, his bag slung over one shoulder. He hadn’t even knocked—he must’ve followed the sound up the stairs.

Hinata laughed softly, a little embarrassed.

“You scared me.”

Sugawara stepped inside slowly, the floorboards creaking beneath his feet.

“I didn’t know you played guitar. And that well?”

Hinata looked down at the strings in his lap, cheeks tinged with pink.

“It’s been a while.”

“Since when could you play?” Sugawara asked, settling beside him on the floor, eyes still wide in awe.

Hinata hesitated, then smiled a little. “Um… actually… before high school, I used to play a lot of instruments. My parents signed me up for all kinds of stuff when I was little. Piano, saxophone, flute, drums… and guitar.”

Sugawara blinked at him.

“Wait, wait—what?”

Hinata laughed again, sheepish. “I know it sounds like a lot. I guess… back then, it was my way of escaping. I didn’t really have friends, and my home wasn’t exactly... the calmest place. Music felt like the only space I could breathe.”

Sugawara’s smile faded into something softer, something more understanding. He didn’t ask anything more about Hinata’s past. He just looked at him as if seeing another part of him for the first time.

“I never would’ve guessed,” Sugawara said finally.
“You’ve always been so bright. Like someone who just… naturally belonged in the light.”

Hinata glanced down at the strings again, his voice barely above a whisper.

“It wasn’t always like that.”

Silence stretched for a beat, then two. And then Sugawara, always the warmest in quiet moments, leaned his shoulder gently against Hinata’s.

“You don’t have to explain everything to me,” he said.
“But… thank you for letting me see this part of you.”

Hinata didn’t say anything. He just kept playing. This time, a soft progression in C major, and Sugawara sat and listened, letting the gentle strings carry them through the stillness.

For a brief second, it didn’t matter how complicated everything else in Hinata’s life was. Not the growing list of emotions tangled around his heart, not the whispers of love and longing from those around him, not even the secret identity he carried so carefully.

It was just this—two boys in a sunlit music room, one playing a song from the past, and the other listening with a smile that said he was staying right here.