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Sakusa is the one who tells him he wants to play Animal Crossing: New Horizons.
Atsumu has only been dating Sakusa for two months when he’s shown a handful of trailers and advertisements for the game. With their salary and countless sponsorships, they have more than enough to each buy a Nintendo Switch and several games.
“It looks like a nice game,” Sakusa mumbles from where he’s pressed against Atsumu’s side. “We could play it together.”
“Is it really worth paying 6000 yen for though?”
Atsumu wants to take that question back immediately when Sakusa pouts.
Sakusa tilts his phone screen to show vibrant colors and adorable talking animals. Atsumu isn’t sure if he’s cooing over the graphics of the game or the unfairly cute way Sakusa scrunches his nose as he wistfully replays the trailer.
The video ends with an announcement of the game’s release date: March 20th.
“Let’s wait until the game comes out to buy it,” Atsumu suggests. He’s been told he’s persuasive; hopefully Sakusa thinks he is too. “Ya always like checkin’ the reviews, so let’s wait and see if the game is good. We can buy different games until then.”
Sakusa raises an eyebrow, but he gives Atsumu a slow nod. He counts that as a win.
They sit next to each other on Sakusa’s couch and buy their video game consoles together that night. Sakusa talks about the Legend of Zelda game Komori recommends to him. Atsumu adds Mario Kart 8 Deluxe to his shopping cart so he can train in hopes of winning a race against Osamu for the first time in his life.
Three months later, Sakusa becomes Kiyoomi. Atsumu still cannot beat Osamu in Mario Kart, although he’s definitely making progress. Atsumu buys a Pokemon game only to badger his boyfriend for advice on how to build his team until the cartridge regularly gets swapped between the two of them. Kiyoomi is still on his elusive quest to earn a 100% completion rate on Breath of the Wild.
But most importantly, Animal Crossing gets released on Kiyoomi’s birthday.
Not even quarantine or the cancellation of the 2020 Olympic Games can dampen Atsumu’s mood as he prepares a small birthday celebration for Kiyoomi. They call their teammates and then Kiyoomi’s family. Atsumu even sits and takes all of Komori’s sharp barbs because he is completely and utterly in love with his boyfriend.
Kiyoomi’s eyes widen in shock when he unwraps his present to find a copy of Animal Crossing. Atsumu isn’t sure why he’s surprised; he’s been talking about the game ever since they watched the trailer together. It had been hard convincing Kiyoomi to not preorder the game.
“Happy birthday Omi-kun,” Atsumu says. “I paid for expedited shipping. I have one too so we can play together.”
Kiyoomi slices the shrink wrap around the game with his fingernail and cracks the game case open in silence. He blinks at the game card, gently running a finger against it as if he’s not sure if his gift is real. But Kiyoomi definitely does have a genuine copy of Animal Crossing in his hands, because Atsumu paid good money for it to arrive at their apartment on the release date.
Atsumu is still wearing his smug grin when Kiyoomi looks back up. His smirk quickly falls off his face.
The soft smile Kiyoomi gives him makes his heart skip a beat. His Omi-kun looks positively radiant when he smiles, and it’s nearly powerful enough to wipe Atsumu’s existence off of the mortal plane.
If money is all it takes to see Kiyoomi smile, then Atsumu will eagerly crack his wallet open and swipe his credit card for another glimpse of the eighth wonder of the world.
“Thank you,” Kiyoomi says, still wearing that fucking beautiful smile of his. “Thank you Atsumu.”
Kiyoomi is so excited that his eyes are shining. Atsumu swears he sees a sparkle materialize next to Kiyoomi’s face. He almost can’t believe his eyes so he counts his blessings instead.
“I love ya,” Atsumu whispers. He holds his hand out to Kiyoomi, to his boyfriend.
Kiyoomi presses their palms and weaves their fingers together. He’s still smiling, and Atsumu smiles too, because Kiyoomi is his and his wonderful smile is reserved for him. “I love you too.”
After all, if having Kiyoomi in his life isn’t a blessing, then what is?
…
They start by listing each other as best friends on Animal Crossing. It’s only logical; they visit each other’s islands every day. Kiyoomi’s island has apples while Atsumu only has oranges, so in order to earn more money, they swap a few trees. They’re dating and literally live together too.
Matching islands is the next step. Kiyoomi spends three painstaking hours recreating the MSBY Black Jackals logo so he can place it on his beach. The dark gold will look good in the sand. It looks even better than he expects it to.
Atsumu sees the finished product and begs Kiyoomi for the code. When Kiyoomi complains that he did all of the work, Atsumu makes their MSBY uniforms for their avatars. Kiyoomi blushes so fiercely when he sees Atsumu’s work that he can’t not leave kisses all over his face.
The screenshot of their villagers, Tsumu and Omi, wearing their jerseys as they stand next to their team’s logo in the sand gets reposted on the official MSBY Black Jackals Twitter account. Requests for their designs flood the comments. Their PR team politely demands that they comply.
Atsumu and Kiyoomi are competitive, petty people. Those designs were made by them for them. They’re Tsumu and Omi exclusives. It is a symbol of their relationship.
They change the placement of two pixels before publishing their design codes. No one notices, and Atsumu and Kiyoomi continue to have matching islands. It doesn’t matter how many other people across Japan, across the entire globe, copy those designs for themselves; only Tsumu and Omi have the originals.
The final piece of making Animal Crossing their game are the letters.
For 200 Bells, they can go to the airport, sit through Orville’s spiel, and buy a postcard to send to a friend. Using the joycon to type out every letter is unnecessarily painful, but it’s worth it when Kiyoomi goes to Atsumu with his Switch in his hand and a smile on his face.
They start sending more letters. They buy so many postcards that they can single handedly support Orville financially if any of the in-game characters earned money and didn’t survive by mooching off of the player.
A letter stamped with goldfish reads I love you. Atsumu sends a letter in response before he jumps off the couch to go kiss Kiyoomi.
Atsumu chooses the postcard with soft grasses and dragonflies for when Kiyoomi is visiting his family in Tokyo for the weekend. He writes babe I miss you :( only to have Kiyoomi laugh at him for his message when they call two hours later.
Don’t bother your brother and your friends. Make some umeboshi onigiri for me is written on a postcard with fluffy clouds for when Atsumu goes to Hyogo for an Inarizaki Volleyball Club reunion.
I’m sorry is sent when what should have been a small argument escalates into Atsumu taking the train to Osamu’s apartment and sleeping there. I am too is sent in return.
Atsumu’s thumb hovers over the confirmation button. There’s a plain white postcard with red and blue stripes along the edge that reads I hope you do well. thank you for everything.
Sakusa broke up with him four days ago, packing all the things he wanted to take into his suitcase and then storming out into the December chill with a shout that he’d figure things out with their landlord. The shattered pieces of their relationship lay scattered in front of the doorway Kiyoomi stepped through.
Their one-year anniversary would have been today.
He hits send.
…
Atsumu doesn’t get a letter back.
…
Sakusa was the one to suggest that they buy the game, but Atsumu was the one to buy it for them.
Just a short while ago, Atsumu would log into the game with a smile as he wondered if his boyfriend had sent him any letters since the last time he played.
Atsumu still logs in every day. But now, Atsumu clicks past messages from his villagers as fast as he can. He diligently waters his flowers and collects any weeds that have sprouted around his island. Tsumu runs around the island chatting to villagers and handing out gifts. He collects the seashells from the beaches and ignores the empty spot where the MSBY Black Jackals logo once sat. His villager pops into Able Sisters and Nook’s Cranny to search for new goods before collecting his daily Nook Miles from the kiosk in Resident Services.
Pascal gives him the final piece of the Mermaid DIY set in January. He completes his museum in March. He changes his island layout for the third time in July. When the Japanese Olympic men’s volleyball team is announced, Atsumu draws the Olympic rings in the sand.
Atsumu goes to Tokyo for a two week National Team training camp in July and forgets to bring his Nintendo Switch. He rooms with Hoshiumi and whines to him about it every day of the camp. An organizational error places Aran in a room with Komori, but Atsumu can’t bother him anyways because he spends every minute of his free time calling Kita, who has a fever. Atsumu is so busy clinging onto Hoshiumi that he nearly forgets Sakusa is on the team too.
“You make me want to go hang out with Gao,” Hoshiumi tells him, as frank as he always is. Perhaps that no-nonsense attitude is what Hirugami sees in him. “That’s not a compliment.”
Atsumu hangs out with him and Gao until he can go back home to his apartment in Osaka. For a team about to go to the Olympics, their training camp is utter chaos.
As soon as he returns to his apartment, Atsumu dashes to where his Switch is docked in front of his television. He’s on the verge of tears when his Happy Home Academy score changes. Tsumu sprints across the island assuring his villagers that he’s back and was simply on vacation, and that he’ll check in every day now. When he finally enters his house and finds cockroaches in every room, he lets out a scream that makes his neighbor knock on his door in concern.
At the Olympics in August, Aran kicks him out of their room.
“Go out there and live a little,” he pleads. “We’re at the goddamn Olympic Village and yer here mopin’ in our room.”
Aran just wants Atsumu out of their room so he can call Kita without Atsumu making faces in the background at how disgustingly cute they are. But Atsumu still leaves with his Switch in his hand, and he finds two divers playing Animal Crossing in the hallway. He shares his Olympic rings design code with them.
Atsumu doesn’t invite anyone to his island anymore. His villagers ask him when his good friend Omi will come back to play with them. On his screen, Tsumu nods along with a smile because he misses his best friend Omi.
In reality, Atsumu makes eye contact with Sakusa as he leaps into the air with a spiking form that’s even more perfect than his smile. Japan is at match point. He tears his gaze away and sets to Bokuto, who slams the ball into the very corner of the opposing team’s side of the court and earns their team Olympic bronze medals.
Sakusa wanted to buy the game, but it’s Atsumu who wants to play it.
Atsumu plays Animal Crossing every day. He only returns to Mario Kart on the weekends so Osamu can beat him for the thousandth time in a row. Sometimes his brother will feel bad enough for him that he’ll hand his controller to Suna, who always manages to drive off every cliff even though Mario Kart 8 Deluxe made it harder to fall off the course. He gave his Pokemon game to Kageyama months ago, the team he built with Sakusa wiped from the cartridge’s memory all the way back in January.
When Atsumu goes to check what friends are online, his Switch says Sakusa Kiyoomi was last seen 30 weeks ago. They broke up on December 23rd, four days before their one-year anniversary. It’s now November 7th.
“You need to get over Sakusa,” Osamu says.
Atsumu tries, tries, and tries to forget Sakusa.
He fails each time.
On the bad nights, Atsumu turns on his Switch, logs into Animal Crossing, and makes Tsumu walk to his mailbox. Tsumu is still smiling, and yeah Atsumu put a big grin on his villager’s face, but maybe it’s because when he reads the old letters from Sakusa, he can pretend the meaning is still there.
When his island has a meteor shower, Tsumu climbs to the tallest ledge on his island and clasps his hands together to make a wish on each meteor that streaks past. The shooting stars are only pixels dashing across a screen, but Atsumu thinks that if he keeps making wishes on them, maybe they’ll come true. Tsumu wishes for Star Fragments to wash up on his beaches the next morning. Atsumu releases the right joystick and wishes for Sakusa back.
Sakusa always did like meteors.
December 27th is a really bad night for Atsumu. If he hadn’t screwed everything up, if he had just shut his mouth for once, maybe Sakusa would be by his side celebrating their two-year anniversary. Except they never even celebrated a one-year anniversary, so maybe Atsumu is just stuck in his head again.
Sakusa had called him out for that. During December last year, Sakusa attacked everything about Atsumu and complimented only two things. When Atsumu goes back in his mailbox, there is only a single I love you and nine I’m sorry messages.
Sakusa showed Atsumu the trailer for Animal Crossing: New Horizons and talked about it so much that Atsumu knew it was the perfect birthday gift.
In the end, it’s the only gift Atsumu got to give him while they were together. The Christmas gift he had picked out for Sakusa ended up going to Bokuto instead, who had been so excited over the expensive watch that he showed it off to their entire team.
Akaashi had jokingly accused Atsumu of giving his husband a better gift than he had. Atsumu had broken down in the bathroom of the restaurant MSBY was partying at, sobs reined in by Akaashi’s soothing pats. Who the hell even gets dumped two days before Christmas?
Sakusa didn’t attend that party. He was using that time to discuss a potential contract with the Deseo Hornets.
Atsumu is only 26, but he feels so old. Maybe it’s because Atsumu feels exhausted. If this is what a single heartbreak feels like, how will he survive the rest of what life has to offer? How can he even meet new people when he can still remember how perfectly Sakusa’s hand fit into his, when Sakusa’s beautiful smile still visits him in his dreams?
It’s a terrible night. He misses his ex even though he got dumped over a year ago. Atsumu drinks three cans of beer when he can barely handle two.
He takes his Switch out of its docking station and opens Animal Crossing. Tonight, Tsumu neglects his villagers, making a beeline for the airport that he hasn’t visited in a year. Orville must miss the extra money their postcards once brought in.
Orville’s speech is longer than Atsumu remembers it to be. He mashes the B button and then has to sit through the dialogue again. This time, Atsumu mashes the A button.
Tsumu picks out a postcard for his best friend Omi. The default “Dear Omi” at the top of the letter can’t be deleted, and Atsumu doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or cry. He doesn’t have the right to call Sakusa his Omi-kun anymore.
Atsumu chooses to laugh first and then cry.
It is December 27th, 2021 and Atsumu is crying over the man who left him over a year ago.
He starts writing his letter to Sakusa. The difficulty of directing his joystick to the right letter is only heightened by his drunken state, but Atsumu slowly slogs through the letter. He doesn’t even know what he’s typing really. Some more shit about how he’s sorry, how everything is his fault, how Sakusa shouldn’t have wasted so much time on a loser like him.
Atsumu writes so much that he fills the entire postcard. Satisfied, Atsumu drops his Switch onto his stomach and yawns. He sits in the silence of his living room and admires the wall hangings he stuck up in a small act of rebellion against Sakusa’s dislike of posters after Sakusa left.
It occurs to him that he needs to power his Switch off and put it back in the docking station. He’ll go talk to his villagers tomorrow when he’s slightly more coherent and doesn’t have sticky tear tracks on his cheeks.
He grabs his Switch at a weird angle and hits a button he doesn’t mean to.
“Send this card to Omi?” his console asks.
In his panic, Atsumu accidentally says okay.
Fuck.
Atsumu instantly sobers up. Sakusa isn’t supposed to see what he just wrote. Sakusa isn’t supposed to see him, period. They started dating two years ago and broke up a year and four days ago. Atsumu is supposed to be getting over Sakusa, not sending him letters when he’s drunk in Animal Crossing of all things.
But well, Sakusa hasn’t been online in 37 weeks.
He’s probably never touching his Switch again. That fucker probably never even got a 100% completion rate on Breath of the Wild, and he sure as hell isn’t opening Animal Crossing to find Omi living on an island that once matched Atsumu’s while he wears a jersey for a team he doesn’t play for anymore. Atsumu bought him the game, so it’s Atsumu and not Sakusa who made the wrong investment.
Sakusa dumped him. Sakusa is over him. Sakusa will not see the letter Atsumu sent, and he will not give a shit if he somehow ever does read it.
Atsumu comforts himself with these thoughts, and in his exhaustion, he passes out on the couch.
…
Atsumu freaked out when he realized he pressed send on his letter to Sakusa.
Nothing happens. Two weeks pass by and the only postcards in his mailbox are from his villagers and the Happy Home Academy. He has a gift from Mom.
So when Atsumu finds himself having another very bad night where all he can think about is Sakusa, reading those old letters over again for the hundredth time isn’t enough anymore. Tsumu walks to the airport, picks out a postcard with a nice blue background and an airplane in the corner, and starts flicking his joystick around to type.
He doesn’t stop at two letters. Now that he’s confirmed Sakusa doesn’t log any hours into the game he practically begged Atsumu for, Atsumu can treat writing letters to Omi as a form of catharsis.
The postcards are starting to rack up. Atsumu doesn’t care; once he hits send, they’re out of sight and out of mind. Apparently sending your ex postcards in Animal Crossing can be a form of therapy and not some strange bootycall.
Atsumu spills his heart out like the pitiful, pathetic person he is. This is a new low, even for him. Atsumu laughs at himself and starts a new postcard.
He apologizes for what he said in their final fight that led to their breakup and Sakusa stomping out of his life. Sakusa is not a control freak or apathetic or mean. Atsumu lacks empathy and cares too much about everything and is too dramatic. Every crack in their relationship was put there by Atsumu.
He hasn’t eaten umeboshi onigiri ever since December 27th, 2020. The Olympians he met through playing Animal Crossing ask to visit Atsumu’s island, and he forgets to answer them because he remembers how Sakusa walked by them in the hallway as he held Ushijima’s hand. The answer would have been no anyways. Lolly, Sakusa’s favorite villager out of the characters on his island, asked to leave to build a new life on a different island. Atsumu didn’t say no. Atsumu wishes him a happy birthday. He describes how hard it had been to set up a new quick attack with the Jackals’s newest wing spiker.
One year and five months after Sakusa dumped him, Atsumu writes his 28th postcard.
He’s four sentences into his sappiest message yet when a notification appears in the top left corner of the screen. Atsumu pauses to read it before he starts tackling the second half of his message.
The blood drains out of his face. “Sakusa Kiyoomi is online” should not be possible. Sakusa hasn’t been on his Switch in months. Why the hell is he playing Animal Crossing now?
Atsumu drops his Switch in shock, in confusion, in anger, in shame.
Once more, Atsumu accidentally sends a letter to Sakusa. Except unlike the first postcard he sent five months ago, this time he desperately wishes he can take it back. Sakusa doesn’t need to see any of the words Atsumu wrote. Sakusa doesn’t care about him.
Atsumu has always liked Inarizaki’s banner. Who needs memories indeed? But that only emphasizes the irony of sending postcards to his ex boyfriend in Animal Crossing because he still hasn’t gotten over Sakusa.
Osamu never fails to remind Atsumu of how pathetic he is. It finally dawns on Atsumu that he’s right.
Well, now there’s no way he’ll have a happier life than Osamu.
Atsumu can’t do anything. He can’t turn back time, and he’s not nearly smart enough to invent a time machine. Sakusa had been the one to major in physics; Atsumu didn’t even go to college. Besides, Sakusa will delete his postcard without reading it, double check that he has Atsumu blocked on every social media platform, and then resume living his life where he never talks to Atsumu.
He turns his Nintendo Switch off and goes to bed.
…
Kiyoomi had been the one to suggest that they buy the game.
After he breaks up with Atsumu, the last thing he wants to do is log on. What’s the point now? All Kiyoomi has is an island that matches Atsumu’s and a villager named Omi. He’s not with Atsumu anymore; he doesn’t want to see any of this. Atsumu probably doesn’t play the game either.
Kiyoomi touches the game less and less. He’d rather try to finish Breath of the Wild so Motoya can stop laughing at him.
He forgets to visit his island one day. He forgets the next day too, until all of a sudden he doesn’t touch his Nintendo Switch at all. Kiyoomi likes routine, but not even the soothing tasks of Animal Crossing are enough to make him turn his Switch on.
When Kiyoomi moves into a new apartment in a new city to play with a new team, he piles everything that reminds him of Atsumu into a plastic storage bin. His Switch is the first thing he places inside the box. Once the box is full of every tangible possession of his that has been ruined by Miya Atsumu, Kiyoomi secures the lid and shoves the storage bin to the back of his closet.
He pulls out the box one year and five months after he left Atsumu. Kiyoomi yanks the plastic lid off the bin and digs his Switch out.
It really is a waste of money that Kiyoomi doesn’t play his video game console anymore. Motoya bought him neon yellow and green joycons after his first pair drifted too much, and the colors instantly put a smile on his face. He’d looked forward to the release of Animal Crossing: New Horizons so much, and it had been his loyal companion throughout quarantine and throughout his relationship with Atsumu.
That’s exactly the problem. The game, no matter how much he anticipated it and how much someone spent on it, reminds him of Atsumu. After all, Atsumu bought it for him.
But maybe it’s time to reclaim his Switch for himself. Kiyoomi likes to see everything through until the end; he hasn’t obtained that 100% on Breath of the Wild yet and his Animal Crossing museum displays cobwebs and dust.
Not everything has to be about his ex. Motoya doesn’t know what he’s talking about when he says Kiyoomi isn’t over Atsumu. Kiyoomi doesn’t care about Atsumu, not anymore. He’ll visit his island and not think of Atsumu and all of the things he should have done differently if change is all it would take for Atsumu to still be by his side.
He can remodel his island. His villager can change his outfit. Omi is the nickname Atsumu gave him, but Bokuto and Hinata called him that too. If he really needs to, he can delete his game’s memory and restart his island life.
When he charges his Switch and powers it on, Kiyoomi is hit by an excruciatingly long update. He’s so determined to evict Atsumu from his mind that he sits through it. Kiyoomi even calls Motoya in an attempt to distract himself from staring at the loading bar on the screen of his console.
“You never call me first unless you’re making a bad decision,” Motoya says as soon as he picks up. His accusation isn’t entirely wrong.
“I’m just waiting for my Switch to update so I can 100% Breath of the Wild,” Kiyoomi lies, tossing Motoya an opportunity to make fun of him.
Motoya buys his excuse and takes the bait. “Haven’t you been working on that for years now? I finished that game like half a year ago. What’s taking you so long?”
“Not everyone can be naturally good at everything.”
“Kiyoomi, I really don’t want to hear that from you.”
Kiyoomi sighs when Isabelle finishes her announcements and his villager finally pops up on his screen. He tells Motoya goodbye and hangs up before he gets a reply. According to their routine, Motoya will inevitably send him a myriad of crying emojis and angry texts. Kiyoomi ignores the buzzing of his phone and the influx of messages, too focused on stepping out of the comfort of things that can be predicted.
The first thing he does is check his mailbox. He isn’t surprised to find a full inbox. The game tells him his oldest messages have been deleted to make room for the newest postcards.
Kiyoomi flicks to the end of his mailbox storage and starts to delete all of the old I love you cards from Atsumu. He does his best to not stare at them. There’s no meaning behind those postcards now that it’s been one year and five months since they broke up.
Maybe Atsumu never meant it when he sent those letters. Kiyoomi was always pushing Atsumu away, always snapping at Atsumu to understand him, always ignoring what Atsumu wanted.
These letters are old. Their meanings have expired. It’s not right to keep them anymore. Atsumu has found new people to love, people who love him in return and don’t clam up when it comes to showing their affection. He’s told countless people he loves them. Kiyoomi isn’t the first person Atsumu has said “I love you” to; he isn’t the last one to hear those words either. He remembers walking through Olympic Village and seeing Atsumu chatting up two women. Sharp pain courses through his heart at the recollection.
Kiyoomi is so caught up in deleting the old postcards from Omi, he almost deletes a message sent five months ago on December 27th.
“Throw this away?” the game asks.
Kiyoomi squints at the name of the sender. No matter how many times he blinks, the postcard from Tsumu remains in his mailbox. He pinches himself. The name is still there. The long paragraphs are still in front of him.
Kiyoomi’s thumb hovers over yes. If he deletes it, he doesn’t have to read the postcard. Why the fuck did Atsumu send him a letter anyways?
But what’s the worst that can happen?
Will Atsumu yell at him, tell him something he already knows? Is he going to blame Kiyoomi for letting their relationship go down the drain? Does Atsumu have another confession, another argument, another insult to call Kiyoomi?
Why did he choose to send the postcard one year after Kiyoomi left him on December 27th, the day that should have been their anniversary?
There’s only one way to find out.
Kiyoomi caves in and hits no. The postcard remains in his mailbox. He goes one step back so he doesn’t have to stare at the message just yet. At least this letter won’t be his villager telling him they spent an entire day coloring a picture with crayons.
He sucks in a breath, opens the letter, and begins to read.
Dear Omi,
haha that default greeting sounds so formal. hey sakusa. you're probably never gonna read this cuz you haven’t played this game in so long, so i guess i don’t have to worry about you seeing this and realizing i’m still sad. i mean, who doesn’t get over their ex when it’s been a year? samu says i need to stop crying over someone who couldn’t care less about me, but i’ve never been good at following his advice anyways. what even is the point of advice? advice doesn’t make you lose feelings for someone.
y’know, you always said you don’t like pity, but you’re probably pitying me right now lmao. can’t say i blame you. maybe if i talk about meteorites hitting my head it’ll feel like you’re here with me. “oh you poor thing, a meteorite hit your head and now omi left you.” guess you were right when you said you didn’t want to tell any fans we were together ‘cuz i don’t think i can deal with their questions even now. the team’s questions are bad enough.
i miss you. ah. i probably shouldn’t call you omi anymore. i bet no one on the hornets calls you that. i thought you kinda liked the nickname, but i guess you really did hate it this whole time. you left the jackals. you left osaka. you left our apartment. you left me. but you’re not reading this so it doesn’t matter. how have you been? are you with ushiwaka now? is it too much to hope you still think of me? that there might be a tiny chance that you wonder how i am? because i still think about how much yo
From, Tsumu
The postcard goes until Atsumu hits the character count. The final word isn’t completed. He can’t tell what the final sentence is supposed to say.
The cheerful default signature of “From, Tsumu” mocks Kiyoomi. Now he has a giant headache courtesy of a postcard “From, Tsumu”. He gnashes his teeth in anger.
How long did Atsumu spend on this postcard? The Animal Crossing keyboard is a pain in the ass to use; Kiyoomi used to get frustrated by the amount of effort it even took to use the joystick to write I love you. And yet here Atsumu is, writing a giant wall of text. Was Atsumu coherent when he sent this? Kiyoomi knows his texting used to be atrocious, but this is just awful.
Kiyoomi doesn’t delete the postcard. He’ll do that after he finishes absorbing all of the contents of the letter. He still has a full mailbox that he needs to clean out.
A single postcard sent by Atsumu when he was likely drunk doesn’t mean anything. Five months have passed since he sent it, and five months is more than enough time for Atsumu to get over someone like Kiyoomi.
Except there isn’t just one letter.
Kiyoomi scrolls through his mailbox and realizes how many more postcards Atsumu has sent him. He’s only read one and his heart is leaping at the implication that five months ago, Atsumu still felt something for him.
There are a grand total of 28 letters from Atsumu. The timestamp of the most recent message says it was sent only a few minutes ago.
Kiyoomi opened this game to take back something precious back from Atsumu. The opening screen gave him a glimpse of his island, and seeing the MSBY Black Jackals logo that he placed on the sand nearly convinced him to shove his Switch back into the storage bin. Perhaps that should have been his first clue that this game can only remind him of Atsumu.
There are too many nights where Kiyoomi can’t sleep because he misses having the warmth of someone else next to him. On nights like that, Kiyoomi asks himself a single question: does Atsumu feel the same?
Kiyoomi survives nights like that by telling himself the answer is no, there’s absolutely no way Atsumu misses him. But as Kiyoomi looks at 27 unopened postcards from Atsumu, the answer seems to be yes.
There’s a lot that Kiyoomi can be doing right now, like dropping his Switch right now for one. He can continue playing Animal Crossing, discard all of Atsumu’s letters, and then read about the little adventures his villagers have been up to while pretending his world hasn’t just tilted so much that his axis has radically changed.
Kiyoomi can pull away from his mailbox entirely and enter his house to stomp out the cockroaches scuttling around his house. Back when playing this game was still a step in his nightly routine, Kiyoomi worked hard to pay off his housing loans and reached the final upgrade before Atsumu even had a third room on his first floor. He’s not about to let all of that progress go to waste.
He can go beg for forgiveness from his villagers. Kiyoomi spent all of his Nook Mile Tickets finding Pietro, and if Pietro asks to leave his island right now, Kiyoomi thinks he might actually cry. He wonders if giving all of his villagers gifts will be enough to placate them and make them forget his absence from the game.
Kiyoomi can easily pretend he doesn’t see the 27 unopened postcards from Atsumu, pretend he didn’t already read one. He’s avoided his feelings for Atsumu for a year and five months now. One more day is nothing.
Now that his Nintendo Switch is back in his hands, Kiyoomi remembers why he was so excited to play this game. It promises relief, rest, and routine. Atsumu is the one who threatens all of those aspects with insisting on matching islands, crafting their MSBY jerseys for their villagers, and sending postcards. But Kiyoomi also remembers insisting on Atsumu buying the game too so they could play together.
Two years ago, Atsumu bought two copies of Animal Crossing for Kiyoomi’s 24th birthday.
He wants to, needs to, read the remaining 27 letters. There’s nothing left to lose anymore.
Kiyoomi clicks on the next letter. When he finishes reading the message, he reads the next postcard, and the one after that. Kiyoomi reads all 28 letters and doesn’t delete a single one.
He reads about Atsumu’s insecurities and the things he wishes he could have done differently. There’s a postcard about how MSBY is doing without him, how Atsumu catches himself practicing the high toss Kiyoomi likes, only to realize he’s not there anymore. One message talks about everything Atsumu can’t do anymore now that Kiyoomi is gone, and Kiyoomi isn’t sure if he’s glad or depressed that Atsumu is just as affected by Kiyoomi’s absence as he is by Atsumu’s absence.
Kiyoomi kicks himself for not noticing the postcard sent on his birthday in time. It certainly would have been a better present than the one size too small EJP Raijins shirt Motoya gave him.
There’s a letter that says I miss you and I want you back until he runs out of space. Kiyoomi traces each word with his finger and doesn’t notice the tears beginning to gather in the corner of his eyes.
The most recent postcard is also the shortest. It cuts off at the end, and Kiyoomi guesses Atsumu sent it before he meant to.
Dear Omi,
i’m sorry for everything omi. there’s a lot i want to say sorry for, but my fingers will cramp if i list it all using the joystick and i have a game tmrw. i keep wishing on these stupid shooting stars and thinking of how much you like meteorites, but no matter how much i wish on them, you never come back. maybe it's 'cuz they're not real. but i really wish that i could ha
From, Tsumu
There’s a splash of water obscuring the signature. Kiyoomi belatedly realizes he’s crying. He leans over to yank a tissue out of the box on his coffee table, using so much force that the box gets swept onto the ground. He only picks it up to place it back into its original position when he’s wiped away his tears.
Kiyoomi sits in silence.
Normally, he loves silence. He argued with Atsumu because there was a lack of silence in their shared apartment. Atsumu spoke too much, talked at an inappropriately loud volume, and didn’t care about Kiyoomi’s preferences. Their constant fighting disturbed any potential peace, and the icy silence following their disputes cut deeper than any words they had thrown at each other. The quiet tranquility of Kiyoomi’s apartment is heaven in comparison.
Kiyoomi hates this silence. He wants to hear Atsumu’s laugh, the one that sounds like liquid gold and if he could give it a corporeal form and bottle it up, it would have the potential to solve all of the world’s problems.
It would certainly solve all of Kiyoomi’s.
Kiyoomi broke up with Atsumu a year and five months ago. He still finds himself waking up from dreams of threading his fingers into Atsumu’s hand, the cold air of his bedroom serving as a sharp contrast to the lingering warmth on his palm. His head is clouded by hypothetical what-ifs, the thoughts only kept at bay with the reminder that Atsumu doesn’t like him.
It has become a chant. When Kiyoomi opens a restaurant menu and sees fatty tuna, when he spots Osamu running his Onigiri Miya stand at volleyball matches, when he stands on the court against the team he once loved, he repeats that mantra. Atsumu doesn’t like you.
His mother asks him if he wants to go to Kyoto with her when her vacation lines up with his off-season. The first destination on her itinerary is Fushimi Inari-taisha, and she promises its red torii path and various fox statues will help clear his head. Atsumu had told him he wanted to go to Kyoto together once. Atsumu isn’t yours. He declines his mother’s offer.
Motoya asks Kiyoomi why he wants to leave the Jackals. You’re not Atsumu’s. Kiyoomi says the Deseo Hornets offer a bigger paycheck.
Atsumu doesn’t like you. Atsumu isn’t yours. You’re not Atsumu’s.
The more Kiyoomi whispers these words to himself, the more he starts to believe them. He swallows the chant and waits for the words to enter his bloodstream, the message traveling through his veins and gradually settling in every inch of his body.
Atsumu doesn’t like you. Atsumu isn’t yours. You’re not Atsumu’s.
There are 28 postcards spanning from a few months ago until today in his mailbox that say Atsumu likes him. Maybe, just maybe, Atsumu can be his. After all, it seems Atsumu still wants Kiyoomi to be his.
Kiyoomi feels lightheaded. He takes a minute to take a deep breath. The past 30 minutes just threw the past year and five months out of the window. His heartbeat is faster than what his resting heart rate should be as his body desperately tries to take back his own words following this recent revelation.
Kiyoomi needs more time to think.
He exits his mailbox without bothering to read the postcards from his villagers. Who cares what Eloise did three months ago when Atsumu says he wishes he can see him once more?
Kiyoomi tramples over the cockroaches in his house. He rearranges his furniture. Omi changes out of his MSBY Black Jackals uniform. He checks in with Tom Nook and Isabelle before heading to Nook’s Cranny and Able Sisters to buy gifts for his villagers. He apologizes to his villagers for being absent for so long. He harvests fruit, collects seashells from his beaches, and removes the MSBY logo from the sand.
Right as he picks up the final tile of the design, he wonders if he should place it back down.
But traces of Atsumu still exist on his island, wisps that he can’t remove without cracking the game cartridge in half. He doesn’t need to take away all of them anyways, but he shouldn’t keep them all either if he wants to prepare himself for a new beginning for himself, and if things work out, a fresh start with Atsumu.
Seeing Omi milling around an island that once matched Atsumu’s hurts less than he expects it to.
There’s still something on Kiyoomi’s list when he finishes tending to his island. He returns to his home screen to check if any of his friends are online. Hoshiumi is currently playing Splatoon. Bokuto was last seen 21 hours ago playing Smash Bros. Atsumu was last online two hours ago on Animal Crossing.
Kiyoomi clicks on his profile and sees the inhuman number of hours Atsumu has logged for the game. It can likely be explained by how writing even one of his postcards probably takes 40 minutes with how arduous directing the joystick to certain letters is, but Kiyoomi is willing to bet Atsumu has played Animal Crossing on a regular basis for the past year and five months.
He goes back to his island. Omi stares back up at him with his deadpan frown.
Atsumu had been the one to steal his Switch one night and make a custom facial pattern for his moles. He even included his eyebrows, and then demanded that Kiyoomi make the signature Miya eyebrows for Tsumu. Kiyoomi had no clue what he was doing while Atsumu eagerly peered over his shoulder. When the eyebrows turned out disastrously wrong and made Tsumu look monstrous. Kiyoomi had looked at Tsumu, tilted his head to catch Atsumu’s betrayed gasp, and burst out laughing.
If he didn’t sleep that night because he badgered an old college friend who studied graphic design to help him make the eyebrows, no one had to know. The shower of kisses from Atsumu the next morning only motivated Kiyoomi to make more custom designs.
Kiyoomi directs Omi to the airport. His joycons are still drifting a little after being neglected for a year, but he makes it there. Kiyoomi surveys the rack of postcards and settles on the standard airmail card. He slides his joystick and starts typing.
He misspells the first word. When he finishes one sentence, he accidentally deletes the entire message. He tries to remove the game’s greeting at the top and somehow kicks himself out of the postcard entirely.
Kiyoomi’s irritation flares, but if Atsumu could write 28 postcards, then he can write at least one.
Competition was a constant theme through their relationship, and it rears its head again. Kiyoomi now realizes that a competitive relationship isn’t necessarily a bad thing; it’s just a Kiyoomi-and-Atsumu thing, and they can make it work.
It takes two hours, five different drafts, and the loss of all feeling in his thumb, but Kiyoomi finally finishes a letter that does a decent job of bridging the gap that formed between them after their breakup. Atsumu has reached out time and time again. Kiyoomi wants to try too.
“Send this card to Tsumu?”
Kiyoomi hits yes.
…
Dear Tsumu,
Miya, I guess this game was worth your money after all. Was writing 28 postcards necessary? We broke up a long time ago.
But I want to apologize. I’m sorry for the petty fights. I’m sorry for not listening to you. I’m sorry for not communicating how I felt. I’m sorry for making you think you weren’t good enough for me when you were so much more than I deserved. I’m sorry for not telling you I loved you more often. I’m sorry for walking away and not trying to fix our relationship. I’m sorry that you wasted so much time over me. You deserve someone better than me.
But most of all, I’m sorry that I don’t want you to find someone else, because I want you in my life Atsumu. I swear I’m going to try, because you deserve that at the very minimum. You deserve so much, but I hope you’ll have me.
You can ignore this. I won’t blame you. But if you ever want to start again, my mailbox will always be open.
From, Omi
…
It takes a few days for Kiyoomi to get back into the groove of playing Animal Crossing again.
Sometimes he's online at the same time as Atsumu, and he stares at Atsumu's avatar as it flashes across his screen. Sometimes he scrolls through his NookPhone to see Tsumu still listed as Omi’s best friend. Sometimes he walks over to the airport and considers sending another postcard.
Kiyoomi doesn’t want to pressure Atsumu or make him feel uncomfortable. This isn’t a question of quantity; his one postcard is enough. If Atsumu doesn’t respond to his letter when it took Kiyoomi five months to find the first letter he sent, then Kiyoomi will accept his decision. If Atsumu doesn’t want to see him anymore, he’ll give up on Atsumu.
Atsumu deserves everything in the entire universe. It’s up to him to see if Kiyoomi is the one who can make him happy.
Kiyoomi opens the game three weeks later to find four new letters.
Pietro tells him about how much fun he had flying a kite the other day. Ankha says something about the seashell she found on the beach. Atsumu has left another long paragraph. Label has left him a Tailors Ticket for his help the other day.
Wait.
Kiyoomi scrolls back to Atsumu's newest letter with shaking fingers and an even unsteadier heart. He braces himself for rejection, closing his eyes and taking a moment to pause and breathe. He presses his palms together and lines up his fingers for a short prayer.
His eyes snap open. He reads the postcard.
Dear Omi,
sakusa, i'm mortified that you actually read the letters. you should have been the one to ignore them. you used to say you were lucky cuz of your wrists or whatever in volleyball, but i guess we're both the lucky ones. maybe your meteorites did work out in the end. you messaged me back.
if you still want to try again, call me. my number hasn't changed. you can choose not to, but like you said, i really, really hope you do. i'm waiting for you omi-kun.
From, Tsumu
Kiyoomi closes his mailbox. He tracks down his daily fossils, talks to his villagers, barges into houses to find who's crafting, dives after bubbles to get a scallop for Pascal, and sells all of the sea creatures in his inventory to Tommy.
When he's done, he powers off his switch and picks up his phone.
He blocked Atsumu for the first two weeks following their breakup. Kiyoomi hadn’t tried to contact him or reach out after that.
But Kiyoomi is fixing that now. Atsumu deserves better, but that doesn’t have to mean he needs a different person. Kiyoomi just needs to be the best version of himself, and he already knows where to start. After all, he’s had a year and five months to think about everything he should have done. Maybe now he has a chance to learn from it.
It takes four rings for Atsumu to pick up.
There’s a beat of silence. Kiyoomi’s breath hitches. Atsumu is here.
“Hello?” he asks curiously when Kiyoomi doesn’t say anything right away.
“Atsumu,” Kiyoomi rasps.
It only takes saying his name for Atsumu to know everything Kiyoomi wants to say, plans to tell him, all of the words he can’t get out. How does he even describe how much Atsumu means to him when he’d change the entire world for his sake?
Oh. He just put it into words.
Kiyoomi has never been good at communication before, but he’s going to make sure he tells Atsumu everything he feels. He’s not leaving Atsumu hanging again. He’s never leaving Atsumu again.
And well, maybe this call is the first step to tilting the axis of both of their worlds to alter their gravitational pull and realigning the stars above them so Kiyoomi can find Atsumu once more in the newfound constellations.
“Hey Omi-kun,” Atsumu says with a laugh.
The sound is just as golden as before. Maybe Kiyoomi will learn how to bottle it up this time. Maybe Kiyoomi won’t have to because, if Atsumu lets him, he’ll get to hear it every day for the rest of eternity.
“How are ya?”
Kiyoomi smiles. “You wouldn’t believe how much better I’m doing now that I’m talking to you.”
“I think I do actually.”
Their first relationship ended poorly. They didn’t talk to each other for a year and five months. There are a total of 30 postcards in their Animal Crossing mailboxes.
Somehow, it’s not hard at all to talk to Atsumu. Perhaps they weren’t ready for each other before, but Kiyoomi is burning with so much love that there’s no way he isn’t ready to properly love Atsumu right now. Their new relationship will be fine if they have each other.
Kiyoomi knows they really will be fine.
And they are.