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His anxiety usually came out to play at night. It was just one of the many constants in his life — Osamu by his side, volleyball in his heart and anxiety buzzing in his head.
It started when he was very young, before they discovered volleyball. Both him and Osamu had been the kind of kids that drove every adult within ten feet of them insane with their sheer amount of energy. Generally, the strategy to deal with such hyperactive children everywhere was to let them run around until they ran out of steam. This worked to some extent with Osamu. After a midday nap and an evening of running around with the neighborhood kids, he was generally exhausted enough to fall right to sleep.
Atsumu was a different story. He rarely took naps and if allowed, would let himself run around until his body could physically move no longer. Even then, there were times when his mind stayed wide-awake, leaving him staring enviously at the bottom of the top bunk where his twin slept soundly. On top of that, Atsumu also got sick a lot. He hated the days when he had to stay home from yet another cold while Osamu got to go to school and play outside.
When his mom took him to the doctor, the doctor said it was due to a lack of sleep. His immune system was weaker than other kids because his mind and body simply weren’t getting the rest they needed. They sent him home with breathing and relaxation techniques and every night, his mom ran him through the exercises before he fell asleep.
For a year or so, things were better. Atsumu was finally sleeping and they had recently joined the junior volleyball league, which worked far better than any other organized sport had. Maybe it was the fact that the game moved so quickly, changing completely every time the ball was touched. It kept his brain busy, fully focused on processing the position of the ball and the movement of the other players.
Atsumu couldn’t say he loved all of it though. The games were fun but drills were the worst. They were repetitive and sometimes he just couldn’t get it right. Any other time he might just have chucked the ball at another kid’s face and stomped off but stupid Osamu was great at it. And like with everything else, Osamu was the one person Atsumu could never stand being less than.
He was ten when their mom was suddenly switched to night shifts and Atsumu’s world was thrown into temporary chaos. Atsumu told her he would be fine. If Osamu wasn’t worried about Mom not being there at night then neither was he.
That first night was torture. He tried to do the exercises himself but it wouldn’t work. All the sounds around him were amplified. Osamu’s soft snores grated on his ears, every sound from outside threw his mind off the ‘two-three-four’ breath counts. He started thinking about what would happen if he couldn’t fall asleep. He would be tired at practice tomorrow and Osamu would get more spikes than him. If that continued then maybe he’d get sick. They had their first ever away game in two weeks. What if he was so sick he had to miss that? What if they replaced him on the team? No. No. Not happening. Not gonna happen. He was fine. He’ll fall asleep. Any second now.
He didn’t realize he was mumbling the words out loud, head between his knees until he felt a hand on his shoulder. He blinked away tears he didn’t realize had formed and Osamu’s sleepy form swam into existence.
“Tsumu. What’s wrong? Why’re you—“
“Huh?! Nothin’s wrong!” Atsumu yelped, pulling the covers and lying down with his face to the wall. ”I’m fine, go to sleep, Samu.”
“You’re clearly not! Tell me what’s wrong!” Osamu tugged at the covers.
“Nothing!” Atsumu tugged back while trying to wipe his tears without Osamu noticing.
“Do you want me to get the Obaasan from next door? Either ya tell me or you’ll have to tell her.”
Atsumu turned around at that, face scrunched up against a fresh flow of tears. “Don’t-don’t call anyone, please.”
Osamu’s face was pinched in worry. “I won’t. Just tell me what’s going on, stupid Tsumu”
“I don’t wanna get sick and miss the away game!” Atsumu was openly crying now.
Osamu stared at him for a long second, head tilted in confusion. They weren’t twins for nothing though and it didn’t take long for Osamu to connect the dots.
“Move over,” Osamu said, poking Atsumu harder than necessary.
“No, ow, what—“
“Just do it!”
Too upset to argue, Atsumu shifted over, curling up into a ball with his back to the wall and burying his face in his wet pillow. Osamu grabbed his own pillow from the top bunk and lay down beside him.
“Lie flat on your back,” Osamu said.
“Don’t wanna.”
“Atsumu, I swear to god, I will call Obaasan and then you can explain this to her.”
The threat was enough to make Atsumu do as he was told.
“Alright. Now take a deep breath and let it out all at once,” Osamu said. “We're gonna count our breaths slowly. In for four—two, three, four…”
It wasn’t the same as when Mom did it. Osamu counted way too fast and he mumbled half the words. It wasn’t the same but it wasn’t bad either. His voice was as familiar as their mom’s and the words were also the same ones that their mom used. Surprised that Osamu remembered all of them, Atsumu blurted in the middle, “I didn’t know you knew the exercises.”
Osamu stopped talking, glanced at him and then looked away, the slightest flush on his cheeks. “What did ya expect? Mom’s been doing this forever. I got used to it too. It’s weird she’s not here.”
Atsumu was too surprised to say anything.
“Don’t tell her I said that though,” Osamu said, quickly.
“I won’t. You don’t tell her either. About tonight.”
Osamu nodded. They stayed quiet for a bit. Atsumu felt tired suddenly, his eyes closing.
Osamu cleared his throat. “Gonna continue. In for four…”
Atsumu fell asleep only after three breaths. Osamu continued the exercise in his own head and fell asleep in another few breaths too.
It wasn’t long before Atsumu started falling asleep without Osamu’s exercises. Osamu fell into the habit of asking Atsumu ’good’ or ‘bad’ every night when he caught him awake. On the bad nights they would lie awake in their own bunks while Osamu guided them through the exercises. Those nights also decreased in frequency overtime.
It felt weird to rely on Osamu for this. Osamu wasn’t an asshole so he never lorded it over Atsumu. They didn’t even really mention it. It became the same as asking if one of them wanted food or to play a game.
He brought up the weirdness to his Mom one day over lunch, while Osamu was out playing. He felt a little guilty but it’s not like his mom didn’t know Osamu was helping him sleep.
“Why does it feel weird, Tsu?”
“I don’t know,” Atsumu pouted. “It feels like he’s beating me at something.”
“Relying on others is not a bad thing,” his mom said, smiling slightly. “Especially when it’s your family.”
Atsumu picked at his food, pushing the rice around aimlessly.
“Samu relies on you too, you know. If you look closely you’ll see it.”
Atsumu blinked. He wasn’t sure what his mom was talking about. Osamu was the good twin. Most people (probably all people, Atsumu thought miserably) preferred him. He was the quiet(er) one. He could talk to people without getting irritated and yelling at them or making them cry. He never got sick and stayed at home. He could fall asleep.
If his mom noticed his darkened mood, she didn’t say anything. She just ruffled his hair before taking their dishes to the sink. Her soft steps on the tatami and the sounds of her puttering around in the kitchen calmed him. Whatever, Atsumu thought, none of that stuff mattered anyway. So long as he got to play volleyball, he was fine.
And he was fine. Actually, he wasn’t just fine, he was great. By the time he reached Inarizaki, Atsumu knew how good he was. It didn’t matter if they hated him or found him to be ‘too much.’ They needed him to get their precious spikes over the net. For the time on the court, he was the one who got to say jump and tell them exactly how high.
It was exhilarating, each set, each serve was an opportunity for perfection. He lived for the satisfaction of the ball landing just so in his hands, it arching high by the net and the look on his spiker’s face when it landed on the other side. I put that there, he would think every time.
It wasn’t like he didn’t get his ass handed to him every so often. If he didn’t then it wouldn’t be worth fighting for. Itachiyama was a particularly ego-bruising experience. It was a good thing that Inarizaki’s motto was what it was. If he had to carry the memories of his defeat, his mind would never quiet down.
It still buzzed, from time to time, sure. Whispers and taunts that passed his mind quick as a flash, old fears supplemented with new ones. It always happened at night. During the day his mind was laser focused on whatever was in front of him and he made sure there was no room for thinking. But at night, there was nothing. His mind wandered in the dark, intrusive thoughts swarming the suddenly empty space of his brain, buzzing like angry bees.
He eventually learned how to block those out too. The key was not to think. Fighting the thoughts made it worse, so in his head was the only time Atsumu ever really admitted defeat. Nothing was worth thinking about and mulling over. It was better to just do.
People called him obtuse, unobservant and not understanding. Most things came as a surprise to him. Their mom was dating someone? What? How the hell was he supposed to notice the late dinners and the constant pinging of her phone and put it all together to come to a conclusion? And what exactly was he supposed to take away from this conclusion? Their mom was a human with feelings and stuff? Gross. He didn’t wanna think about that.
After he had gotten over his initial shock, he had closed his still hanging jaw and shrugged at Osamu. “I mean… good for her, right?” Osamu had just rolled his eyes at him.
He got through pretty much all of high school like this. In second year, with the end of their school life approaching, Atsumu started researching which teams had the best track record, the nicest gyms and living spaces. When Aran asked him about his plans for after, he listed his top three teams and everything he knew about them. It was only when Aran asked, ”What about Osamu?” that he paused and asked the question to himself. Right, what about Osamu?
They were having dinner that night, just the two of them while their mom was at work, when Atsumu decided to ask.
“Samu. What are you uh, thinking of doing? Like, after.”
Osamu paused with his chopsticks halfway to his mouth. “I’m not really sure yet, to be honest.”
Atsumu blinked. His stomach felt weird.
“Oh,“ he said. “What-what am I gonna do?”
Osamu wasn’t looking at him. “You said MSBY or EJP right? They’re the ones with the best spikers and coaches that focus on setting. MSBY has good trainers and stuff too, right?”
Atsumu processed this information. Yes, MSBY and EJP were on his shortlist. MSBY was probably his first pick. MSBY had special athletic trainers and Osaka was close to home too. Close to their mom and… Osamu?
“You’re not going pro.” Atsumu said, almost to himself.
Osamu finally looked at him. “Tsumu, I-I thought you knew. With the youth camp last year and—“
”And what?” Atsumu said, clenching his fists on the table. “Just cuz you said you don’t love volleyball as much as me I was supposed to know you’re not goin’ pro?!”
“No!” Osamu replied, equally worked up now. “You were supposed to notice! Notice that I’m taking different classes and I cook all the meals! That I love food! That I don’t train extra hours with the coach like you and Suna do! You were—you were supposed to fucking ask, ya self-obsessed jerk!”
They were both standing on opposite sides of the table now. Atsumu wanted nothing more than to punch and kick Osamu and demand answers but there was something stopping him. The weird feeling in his stomach had gotten stronger and the light sheen in Osamu’s eyes wasn’t helping. It all felt too much.
Chest heaving and throat feeling oddly right, Atsumu turned away, mumbled something about getting air and pretty much ran out the front door without waiting for an answer.
The cold outside air shocked him into action and he shrugged on the track jacket he somehow had had the foresight to grab. He crouched down, tied his shoes properly and started running.
The anxiety and buzzing were already there and there was bile rising in his throat but he had to do this. He had to think, had to face whatever the fuck this was. Losing Osamu wasn’t an option. He was only able to push forward and brush off people’s stares and judgement because he knew at least Osamu would always be there. They were twins, they’d been together even before having been born. Osamu wouldn’t—couldn’t leave him.
Angrily wiping the tears that kept flowing and blocking his vision he continued running, feet guiding him automatically along familiar roads. He ignored the looks of the passersby, ignored the steadily colder air as the sun continued to set behind the houses blurring by. The streets kept curving gently upwards and he kept running, relishing the pain of running uphill at full speed.
It was dark when he finally stopped or rather, was forced to stop. He had tripped over a sudden curb and nearly hit his head on the pavement. When he came to, he was lying on the ground, various parts of his body screaming in protest. He managed to get up on his knees and took quick stock of his body. His forearms were badly scraped but he had managed to protect his hands from the worst of it.
He let out a groan and looked around. He was pretty far from home. Cursing himself (and Osamu for good measure), he got up shakily onto his feet. He let out a louder curse when he felt his right calf muscle. He had definitely pulled it.
“Shit, shit. Fuck.” He tried to calm himself down and catch his breath. Running back was out of the question. Walking was also probably a bad idea. He could… catch a cab? But that would be expensive. He could also call his mom? His phone had survived the fall unscathed. But his mom was at work and she had carpooled, so she didn’t even have the car. The car was at home… where Osamu was.
Letting out a string of curses, Atsumu irritably pulled up his brother’s number. Steeling himself, he hit call. Osamu picked up the phone after the first ring.
“You! Where the fuck are you? Do you know how—“
“Shut up!” Atsumu exclaimed, flustered by how frantic Osamu sounded. “Lemme talk and I’ll fucking tell you!”
He could practically hear Osamu’s jaw clench shut and sighed, embarrassed. “Uh I went running and fell. Think you can drive the car out to me without crashing it? I’ll drop a pin.”
Osamu cursed at the other end. “Yeah, I’m on my way. You just stay put.”
Biting back a sarcastic comment, Atsumu just grunted and hung up. He limped over to the offending curb and sat down slowly. Placing his head between his knees, he breathed, automatically following the same old pattern. In for four…
Some time later, he heard a car pull up and looked up, squinting at the glaring headlights. The car shut off and suddenly Osamu was crouching in front of him, hands on either side of his face, shaking him roughly from side to side.
“Hey, Tsumu! Ya alright?!”
“Ow, let go, fucking insane person,” Atsumu scrambled back, feeling dizzy from being handled so callously.
“Oh yeah, I’m the one that’s insane!” Osamu said, flicking his forehead. “Get up, let’s go home.”
Rubbing his forehead with one hand, he allowed Osamu to pull him up with the other one, trying to keep the majority of his weight on his left leg.
“Ankle sprain?” Osamu asked worriedly.
“Nah, pulled my calf I think. Scraped my arms but otherwise m’fine.”
They hobbled back to the car and Osamu helped him into his seat before getting in himself. Atsumu leaned his head back against the seat tiredly, closing his eyes in a silent plea to not talk. Osamu caught on and they drove home in silence.
It was just their luck that their mom was waiting at the front door, hands on hips and a murderous expression on her face as Osamu pulled into their tiny driveway. Anger quickly turned to shock though and before long she was fussing over Atsumu, tending to his injuries and telling him to go bathe.
When Atsumu got out of the shower, he felt better. His calf had quieted down into a dull throb and his forearms were neatly bandaged. It was nowhere near the worst injury he’d ever had, probably not even in his top five. But he understood their panic. He was an athlete. He had been careless.
He walked into the kitchen, where his mom and Osamu were seated around the table, talking quietly. They stopped once they saw him.
“Sit down, honey,” his mom said softly, patting the ground beside her.
It took him a minute before was able to sit in a comfortable position.
“I’m sorry,” Atsumu said, before either of the other two could say anything. “I got upset and ran out the door. It was getting dark, shouldn’t’ve done that. I’m sorry.”
His mom sighed, looking at him with a small smile. Then she got up, ruffled Osamu’s hair before dropping a quick kiss on his head and did the same to Atsumu.
“I caught the gist of what happened from Osamu. The two of you need to talk. Really talk,” she said, sternly. “Doesn’t have to be tonight though,” she added with a familiar, slightly cocky grin. “You’ll have plenty of time since you’re both grounded for a week!”
With that she turned away and walked to her room, shutting the door behind her.
The kitchen was quiet. Having identified the weird feeling in his stomach as guilt, Atsumu apologized again. “Sorry, you didn’t need to be grounded. S’my fault. I’ll try and talk her out of it tomorrow.”
Osamu raised a brow, his chin raised slightly. “Ya sure you didn’t hit your head? That’s the third time you’ve apologized tonight.”
Irritated, Atsumu huffed and looked at the ceiling in exasperation. Stupid Osamu. He wanted to yell at his mom, ‘See! This is why we can’t talk! It’s easier to fight.’
Osamu cleared his throat.
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry too. I should’ve told you, I chickened out. Thought you’d take it… well, about as badly as you did, to be honest.”
Atsumu turned back to Osamu. This time, his twin was looking back and Atsumu noticed that his eyes were swollen, the same as Atsumu. He’d cried too.
Something about the sight pissed Atsumu off. What was he crying for? For Atsumu being a shitty twin and not realizing Osamu wanted to go into food? Big deal. The way Atsumu saw it, Osamu was the one leaving Atsumu alone on the court. If anyone had any right to cry, it was Atsumu.
“Well, thought right then, didn’t you.” Atsumu bit out. “Mom’s right, I don’t want to do this tonight. I’m going to bed.”
“Tch,” Osamu clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Fine, so long as you’re not running away again.”
This fucking guy.
Osamu was on the other side of the table, too far to kick so instead, Atsumu grabbed either side of their (thankfully empty) table and upended the entire thing at him. He had gone long enough without resorting to violence.
He heard Osamu’s little shriek of surprise as the table nearly flattened him against the floor and smiled in satisfaction. Then, before Osamu could recover, he scrambled to his feet and ran into their bedroom, taking care to be quiet. In his rage, Osamu took no such measures and could be heard cursing and yelling at the top of his lungs. As if on cue, he heard their mom’s door bang open.
Feeling smug, Atsumu dropped into bed, only slightly grimacing at his sore body. The sounds of his mom yelling at Osamu were music to his ears. He listened to her yell at him about making a racket so late at night and waking up the neighbors. Osamu tried to protest saying that she was yelling too and tried to blame the whole thing on Atsumu. This obviously backfired.
Atsumu got comfortable under the covers. Even though nothing was anywhere near resolved, Atsumu did feel somewhat better. Everything didn’t feel as devastating as before. Somehow over the course of the night he had processed his initial shock and his mind had quieted down.
Exhausted, for once, Atsumu fell asleep to the carrying sounds of his mom going on a tirade about her graying hair and the dangers of underage driving.
Whatever little goodwill the crisis of him taking a tumble halfway across town had built was long gone by morning. Atsumu woke up sore and irritable. His mom giving him his earful about the table from last night didn’t help. Neither did Osamu leaving for school for morning practice, which he was going to miss. His mom drove him to school an hour later than usual and he sulked visibly on the way there and all through classes that day. Their classmates were used to it and not bothered enough to pry into what the twins were fighting about any given day. Their teammates however, were a different story.
Suna snidely asking what they were fighting about this time and Ginjima actually knowing that Osamu was done with volleyball before his own damn twin knew, set him off all over again.
“It’s because he’s a fucking chicken!’ Atsumu said, seething. “He was too chicken to tell me and he’s too chicken to even try to make it big.”
Unsurprisingly, this set off another scuffle. Their teammates watched, stretches completely forgotten. Suna had his phone out.
“Fuck you! I made up my mind a long time ago,” Osamu said, shoving him to the ground. “I told myself I was gonna get a job in food and that’s what I’m gonna do.”
“What does that have to do with anything? All that means is that you just gave up longer ago.” Atsumu spat. “Ya really think you love food, fucking food, more than volleyball? Fine. Ya can watch me on TV and cheer with the rest of them plebs.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that! I didn’t pick this career outta some kinda compromise, ya nitwit and not fucking because I thought I couldn’t make it. Why do you think going pro’s the only way to happiness?!”
Atsumu opened his mouth to retort, but Osamu grabbed him by the collars of his jacket, pulling him up. “Did it never occur to you that what makes you happy might not be the same as what makes me happy?! One way isn’t better than the other! It’s just different, ya blind boar!”
Well, that had actually not occurred to Atsumu and he sure as hell wouldn’t be admitting it.
Atsumu shoved him away and sneered. “Fine, I get it. You don’t just love volleyball a smidge less than me. You love it a whole lot less, don’t you? I don’t know what the fuck you think you’ve been doing all these years playing beside me but fine, why are you still even here? Get the fuck off the court already and let someone else play!”
The irony that after saying this it was Atsumu who walked out the gym doors wasn’t lost on him. Still, he wasn’t gonna actually drag Osamu out. Not when Atsumu was the one who had to actually sit out today due to his injuries while Osamu got to play.
“Fuck!” he yelled at the sky, scaring some birds in a tree and a pair of first year girls who walked hurriedly by him. This sucked.
Another two days went by with silence from both the twins. Instead of outright fighting or even yelling, they had fallen into pretending the other person didn’t exist. It was Atsumu who started it, because of course it was. When Osamu had asked him ‘how long he had to suffer through something as childish as the silent treatment’ Atsumu told him it was just practice for their futures after school. Osamu hadn’t said a word to him since then.
Thankfully, he was in good enough condition to play after just the first day of sitting out, which meant there was at least something to get him through the day. He hadn’t realized how much he talked to Osamu on any given day. He saw Osamu chattering away with their friends and classmates as per usual while Atsumu kept to himself, talking only when spoken to and even then badly. The realization that this was actually the usual for him too was unwelcome. Damn, did he even have any friends?
He slapped his cheeks to chase the offending thought away and started, hearing a soft chuckle beside him. It was Kita-san. He hadn’t even noticed him sitting on the steps of the gym beside him, where they were taking a quick break between sets during practice.
“You alright, Atsumu?“ Kita asked, with a tilt of his head.
“Yes,” Atsumu replied automatically.
Kita raised his brows at him and Atsumu sighed. “Well, maybe not.”
Kita hummed and Atsumu took a sip of water in order to have something to do.
“The nationals are coming up, we can’t win without you.”
Straight to the point, as usual. Atsumu flushed in response and tried to assure his captain that it wouldn’t be a problem.
Kita shook his head, gaze unwavering. “We can’t win without both of you.”
Atsumu turned away from the weight of his gaze, knowing what Kita was getting at. It was rare that their fights affected them to the point of throwing them off their game but this was one such fight. There was no point in beating around the bush. They were out of sync.
“You know how I didn’t play in an official match until this year?” Kita said suddenly.
Atsumu nodded. He had noticed that as a first year but hadn’t been surprised when Kita-san had gotten the captainship in the end. Kita-san was amazing, he had known that much just by playing with him in practice matches. They just had other, stronger players than him. It was the nature of being a powerhouse school. He wasn’t sure what his captain was getting at by bringing this up now though.
“Do you think I wasted my time?” Kita asked calmly. “I love volleyball. Maybe nowhere near you or Osamu or many of our teammates. But, in my own way I do.”
Atsumu jolted, as if he had been given a physical shock. His knee-jerk reaction was to deny and apologize, but Kita-san always saw through him. He decided to go with the truth. “I did wonder. If you wanted to play more and whether you were… frustrated. But I never thought that you had wasted your time! Please, Kita-san, believe me!”
Kita’s smile held no judgement. And something about his own words triggered a half forgotten memory. ‘I am frustrated. I am frustrated at the fact that I’m not frustrated more.’
“I did wish I could play more.” Kita admitted. “Still, my frustration wasn’t enough to stop me from continuing to show up and enjoy watching you and the others play their hearts out. Like I said, I love volleyball.”
Atsumu’s eyes widened in realization. Kita’s honest, wide smile held as much weight as words. He shot up, turned towards Kita and bowed deeply. “Thank you, Kita-san! Please continue watching and playing with us.”
Kita stood up and clapped him on the shoulder, before going back inside. He had looked… almost proud of Atsumu. After a beat, Atsumu followed.
When they continued the game, the Miya twins played better.
That night found them sitting in the exact same position as two nights ago, eating dinner. Their mom was at work and Osamu had cooked for them.
“Thank you for the food,” Atsumu muttered, before digging in. The first bite of the fish cake nearly made him forget his silence and blurt out his usual sarcastic praise, something along the lines of ’Damn, Samu. This is actually good.’
Biting back the words, he took a sip of tea to wash down the food and said stiffly instead, “I’m ready to talk now, if you are.”
Osamu looked up, startled and narrowed his eyes.
He had picked up that habit from Suna, Atsumu knew. He just knew Osamu was going to reply with an annoying mocking comment which would end up setting him off. This was hopeless. They were never going to get anywhere at this rate.
“Fine.”
“Huh?”
”You wanted to talk, idiot. So talk!” Osamu said, irritatedly.
“Right,” Atsumu said, realizing he now actually had to do the talking.
“I’m sorry for saying you don’t love volleyball. I know you do.”
Osamu waited, head tilted to the side.
Atsumu sighed. “I’m also sorry for saying that you’re wasting your time. You’re not wasting your time, you’re allowed to play volleyball however much you want, same as anyone else.
“It’s just that I’ve never played volleyball without you. And I guess I couldn’t—can’t imagine a future where we don’t play together.”
Osamu still remained silent. Atsumu glared at him. “You’re supposed to say shit back too! I can’t do all the talking!”
Osamu ignored that, but did finally speak. “Do ya think I’m dying or something?”
“What? No?” Atsumu said, bewildered. “Wait, are you?”
“No, idiot,” Osamu said. “I’m not dying. I’ll still be the same living, breathing person with hands and legs—“
“—and no brain,” Atsumu supplied.
”Shut up,” Osamu said without any heat. “What I am trying to say is just because I’m not going pro, doesn’t mean we’ll never play together. And also, I’m not going to stop playing volleyball! Did you think I’d just burn my shoes after third year or something?”
”No,” Atsumu denied, even though he may have thought something like that. For good measure, he decided to confirm. “So you’re going to keep playing volleyball? You’re not done with it?”
Osamu sighed. “I am done with it professionally, Tsumu. But people play volleyball, competitively play mind you, as a leisure activity. Like you know, for fun?”
Atsumu processed this.
Osamu kept going. “I’ll join a local league or something. Even thought about coaching kids for a bit to earn a little extra cash on the side.”
“Oh.” Atsumu said. This meant Osamu could play with him too… just not for an actual game.
Osamu read him like a book. “I know. I know it won’t be the same. It won’t be a high stakes game. And that’s why I’m all the more dedicated to making this and the next year count.
“I’ll be right there beside ya, Tsumu,” Osamu said, voice wavering slightly. “I’ll do everything in my power to win. That hasn’t changed.”
Being faced with Osamu’s pained face was too much. Atsumu pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes.
“Fuck,” Atsumu sniffed. “I’m sorry, Samu. I didn’t think.”
He raised his head at Osamu’s watery chuckle. When his eyes adjusted, he saw Osamu’s eyes were also watery.
”It was never your strong suit.“ Osamu got out, eventually.
“It really isn’t, you know.” They both rubbed their eyes. Atsumu decided to continue. “You know how I can’t sleep sometimes?”
Osamu nodded cautiously. It wasn’t often that Atsumu talked about this stuff and even then, it was never beyond just complaints.
“It’s like my brain gets too noisy and I can’t shut it off.” Osamu nodded again. This much at least he had heard before.
“Well, it doesn’t just happen before bed. As I got older, it happened all the fucking time. Still does, I just learned how to manage it. I just… try not to think. I avoid sitting still and thinking about things that I know are only gonna make me anxious.”
It was like he had been waiting to get this off his chest for his entire life. Osamu let him go on, without a trace of pity in his eyes.
“What you said, back when I got picked for the youth camp. It was like that. It scared me. I didn’t want to think about it.”
Atsumu looked down after that. It was a confession he hadn’t been expecting himself to make. Hadn’t even been aware that that was what had happened. It made sense though, looking back. Yeah, he was scared.
“I’m scared too, Tsumu.” Osamu admitted. “I spouted all that about happiness and success, but I don’t know shit.”
They were quiet for a moment. “So then, why’re you doing this at all?” Atsumu asked, honestly. “Like, you know you could make it pro. So why do this instead?”
Osamu smiled faintly. “Well, it’s because there’s kinda something I wanna do.”
“Do what?” Atsumu asked, curiosity piqued. “Like with food?”
“Yeah,” Osamu looked almost embarrassed. “I want to open a shop and sell my own food—well, actually I wanna open a lot of shops, like all over Japan.”
“Woah,” said Atsumu. This was beyond anything he had ever considered. “Like McDonalds? Or Coco-ichi?”
Osamu was pretty flustered now, the comparison to Japan’s largest was a bit much. Tamping down his own enthusiasm for the turn the conversation had taken, he tried to calm his more easily excitable counterpart. “I don’t know anything yet! It’s not gonna happen straight away. I need to go to school, at least for a couple years and get experience working in real restaurants.”
His words may as well have fallen on deaf ears. “Sure but do you know what kind of food you’d make?” Atsumu asked eagerly, “Sushi?!”
Osamu sighed, but he was grinning now. “I dunno yet, maybe. But yeah, that’s sort of the end goal…”
Osamu continued talking, telling him about the culinary schools he had scoped out, his top picks and the tradeoffs for each. Listening to him, Atsumu could tell his twin had thought a lot about this. It was the same as him researching the league and its various teams. Atsumu felt like he could maybe finally understand.
By the time their mom came home, the table had been cleared of dinner but was cluttered with various pamphlets and a laptop instead. The twins sat side by side, looking up schools and cities and whatever else, bickering and speaking in half sentences that only the other understood. They would get through this.
In their third year, with Atsumu as captain, they beat Karasuno. It was probably his best, most favorite match of all time. Osamu and him had been a force of nature. Tough until the very end, it was one of the few matches where Atsumu had actually cried on court. His team had huddled around him, some also crying, others laughing and shouting with glee. Osamu had taken one look at his distraught face and burst into laughter, despite telltale tears of his own shining in his eyes. He had called him a crybaby, told him to act like the captain for fuck’s sake and wiped his tears away for him.
He managed to get through the handshakes, the after-match meeting and the pep talk for the semifinals before breaking down once again in the showers of the locker room. He hadn’t known then why he was crying but maybe in some strange form of twin telepathy, he had foreseen the events of the next day.
The next day, they lost to Kamomedai in the semi-final. It was the last official match he ever played with Osamu. The game against Karasuno had been their last official win.
He still agreed with Inarizaki’s motto, for the most part. All his life, he would continue to look forward. It worked for him. But if there was any memory that he would carry with him, it would probably be of the match against Karasano. The memory of that last victory when the ‘Miya twins’ stood and ruled the court would probably never leave him.
Atsumu went to see the final between Itachiyama and Kamomedai by himself. Osamu hadn’t taken their loss well and was planning on dealing with it by hitting up a long list of restaurants in Tokyo he had been saving up money for. Atsumu had still asked him if he wanted to come along but his twin had refused, saying that he wasn’t ready to go anywhere near a court just yet. Atsumu could understand that and left the hotel without a fuss, warning Osamu to leave enough room for the place with fatty tuna they had planned to go to for dinner.
Watching the final wasn’t as painful as he would have thought. It was a good game. When Itachiyama lost, Atsumu found himself clicking his tongue in response. Maybe it was that the loss from Kamomedai was still fresh in his mind but he’d found himself (silently) cheering for Itachiyama. He probably hated them both equally, but he found it hard to watch a match without taking sides.
Exiting the gymnasium, he ran into other players he knew and ended up somehow chatting at length with Bokuto Koutarou of all people. The spiker was currently a regular on the MSBY roster, which was impressive, given that he was only a year older than Atsumu himself.
They only really knew each other by reputation but he found Bokuto exceptionally easy to talk to. They discussed the match with equal enthusiasm and Bokuto told him all about his experience getting into MSBY, which Atsumu couldn’t have been more grateful for.
Bokuto also asked him about Osamu and what he was planning on doing. When Atsumu said culinary school, Bokuto had the same look of ‘huh, not volleyball’ as pretty much anyone Atsumu told about going pro alone. People usually added a ‘pity, the two of you were amazing together’ before moving on, which Atsumu hated hearing. It’s unlikely they would have joined the same team even if Osamu had gone pro. He had realized he wanted to show the world who he was without Osamu. Osamu probably wanted to do the same.
When Bokuto said no such thing and moved back to discussing volleyball, Atsumu felt relieved.
They finally parted ways when someone (from the current Fukurodani team, he thought) came to pick him up. Bokuto nearly ran the minute he saw the other boy but then blushed deeply, apologized to Atsumu and exchanged contact information, promising to stay in touch.
Atsumu waved goodbye, an easy grin on his face, nodding to the distant bespectacled figure. He liked Bokuto. He hadn’t thought too much about the actual MSBY players he would be playing with but it was comforting that he knew someone on the team. Well, it only mattered if he passed their tryouts.
Ignoring the anxious little swoop in his stomach at the thought, he got up, ready to head back to the hotel.
He was checking his phone when he heard a monotone voice from behind him. “Inarizaki High…”
Atsumu turned to see Sakusa Kiyoomi standing behind him, hands in the pockets of his tracksuit and a mask on his face. He looked pretty normal for the captain of the team that had just lost the finals.
”Sakusa Kiyoomi,” Atsumu said, surprised.
“Miya Atsumu,” Sakusa replied in kind.
They stood there for a second before Atsumu said, “It was a good match.” He couldn’t bring himself to add that he thought Sakusa had played a near flawless game.
Sakusa nodded. “It wasn’t my last.”
Atsumu had figured as much. “Glad to hear it, looks like I still might get to go up against you in the future then. Where’re you headed?”
”Chuo.”
”College?!” Atsumu squawked in surprise. “Why?”
Sakusa gave a barely perceptible shrug. “Like most volleyball players, I would have to retire in my mid-thirties. Life would still continue, afterwards.”
“Huh.” There were multiple surprising things about what he had just heard, not the least of which was that this was probably the longest sentence Sakusa had ever spoken to him. There was also the fact that Sakusa looked as far ahead as what would happen after he played a full professional volleyball career.
It’s not like Atsumu didn’t think he would make it in the professional volleyball world. He had been scouted by teams personally and he was only going up from here. He had just never thought about what he was going to do after he reached the summit.
“What about you?” Sakusa asked, startling Atsumu out of his thoughts.
“Definitely not college,” Atsumu said. “I’m aiming to go pro straight away.”
Sakusa said nothing and it occurred to Atsumu that he was waiting for him to expand. The guy was as hard to read as ever.
“Likely MSBY or EJP,” he amended.
Sakusa nodded, looking satisfied. “I’ll see you on the court.”
“See you.”
Atsumu stood there for a few seconds, watching Sakusa’s retreating back and processing the conversation. He supposed he should be honored Sakusa wanted to know where he would be. Atsumu definitely felt a twinge of regret that Sakusa would be out of his reach for a good four years. Still, that was just time where both of them would be working to get better. It was something to look forward to.
Satisfied at how the day had turned out, Atsumu finally left the Metropolitan Center, calling Osamu to ask him how far he had made it on his restaurant binge.
It was only as Osamu started going into detail about the fourth restaurant he had visited that Atsumu realized Sakusa hadn’t asked about Osamu at all.