Chapter Text
Atsumu had sprawled out on his desk, stretching one arm to rest his head upon it. The other arm provided some extra support, casually twisted between his neck and shoulder. With each shift of his weight, the generic office chair creaked, gradually pushing him to the left in a somewhat uncomfortable manner. It wasn't the most pleasant position, but Atsumu hadn't changed it for the past ten minutes simply because there wasn't a better alternative.
The cushion on the chair was worn out, one of the wheels was jammed, and the table emitted an annoying squeak when leaned on from the wrong side. Moreover, the desk was about half an inch too high, making the already tiresome task of lounging in front of the screen for eight hours even less enjoyable. Despite the loud rattle of the air conditioning, the scorching summer air infiltrated even the shaded sides of the building, creating an unbearable heat, evaporating any productivity.
Letting out a frustrated sigh, Atsumu pushed himself up again while his bare arms, uncovered by his short-sleeved shirt, were sticking to the desk. Even with minimal movement, he couldn't escape the persistent sweat. Oh, to be sitting directly in front of a fan, savoring the refreshing coolness of a watermelon. Maybe some chilled mandarins from the freezer would do the trick as well.
"Is it just me or is it still getting hotter?" one of Atsumu's coworkers uninvitedly invited himself to an exclusive one-man party, unironically holding a steaming hot cup of coffee in his hand and seemed totally oblivious to Atsumu's negative level of interest in any type of conversation. "We need a big ol' icebox right in the middle of the office. Just hop in and never come out."
"Uh-huh," Atsumu replied, growing increasingly irritated, while casually shrugging his shoulders. How 'bout they actually fix the darn air conditionin'?"
He gestured roughly towards the persistent rattle emanating from somewhere in the ceiling, stifled a yawn, and stretched his body. Briefly, he pondered whether a large office icebox wouldn't have been such a bad idea after all.
Mr. Coworker seemed to take this as an invitation to stay, leaning casually against the flimsy partition between their desks, still holding onto his hellish hot cup of coffee. "I guess whoever takes care of that will be the hero of the office," he chuckled. "Who knows, maybe we'll get lucky."
"What're yer talkin' 'bout?"
Although Atsumu wasn't particularly in the mood for small talk, he found solace in the fact that not much else was happening today, as he felt himself sweating through his clothes and his rear end growing increasingly numb. So, he kindly took the bait of casual conversation that his colleague had just thrown out there.
"Haven't you heard? They said we'll be getting a new department head soon."
The actually was news to him.
"Really? Didn't know they promoted me", Atsumu replied, a little too curt to crack a joke. He had been bored out of his mind for months, still doing a good job. The ambitious career guy in him felt momentarily snubbed.
His colleague just laughed again. "No one had a chance anyway. Heard Mr. Yamada wanted his son to take over. Apparently, the kid's gotta start taking responsibility."
Skeptical and not exactly appeased, Atsumu raised an eyebrow. "So, old Yamada's plum scared he's fixin' to kick the bucket?"
"With all the cash he's raking in?"
"Shoot, I'd quit too and steer clear of watchin' my own body fall apart in slow mo."
"Hah, you crack me up, Miya."
And that was the end of the conversation. Atsumu hadn't even bothered to think about the guy's name, but he chuckled uncomfortably for the third time, shook his head, walked away from the flimsy wall, and headed back to his cramped pseudo-cubicle office, sipping on an overly hot drink, either to melt or get back to his business.
Melting seemed more likely.
Frowning, Atsumu stayed behind, briefly watching the other person before scanning the rest of the office, including the fishbowl-like meeting rooms in the center. Annoyed, he blew a strand of hair off his forehead and enjoyed the temporary relief of feeling slightly cooler.
In moments like this, he questioned why he put up with it all. You work your butt off, juggle numbers, and charm people, have enough charisma to sell a dirt-cheap vacuum to the CEO, and yet, no promotion or decent pay raise to keep you satisfied. Sure, they showered him with praise, but after a few comments from the current higher-ups, he had started to believe he had a shot at taking over.
He had never thought office work, finances, and business deals would bring him happiness. But hey, at least he didn't have trouble selling without a conscience, he wasn't dumb, and the job didn't leave him penniless. It was convenience that led him to where he sat now, neither pleased with his choices nor particularly sad about them. Comfort and the promise of a fat paycheck, a little prestige.
Pretty weird. It tasted as bland as plain rice. Something was missing.
Because he didn't feel like watching his screensaver, Atsumu got up, tucked his shirt back into his pants, and headed to the small coffee kitchen. Maybe one of the others had stashed some soda in the fridge, so he could raise his handy Tsumu communist flag above it. Ice-cold sugary water sounded just right at the moment.
As he was about to enter the separate room, a coworker from the PR department let out a loud scream. He squinted one eye and made a face. The girl seemed scared by something, but the high-pitched sound really hurt his ears. "What's the fuss?"
"T-there! There! Cockroach!" she squealed, and Atsumu couldn't help but roll his eyes. He never understood why people got so worked up about those bugs. He followed the girl's trembling finger, spotted the crawling critter, and without thinking twice, he squashed it firmly before it could crawl back under the fridge. It made a cracking sound, and bug guts splattered on both sides of his shoe and the floor. "There ya have it."
"Eww, oh my God—"
The disgusted look on her face showed zero gratitude.
"Yeah, what now? I'd rather see it dead than in yer lunch," he replied, annoyed, and grabbed a roll of paper towels from the counter. Using a sheet, he quickly wiped off the bug mess from his shoe sole and shot the girl an unimpressed glance.
"You could've just caught it with a glass or something." She seemed intimidated by his reaction, but still mumbled her suggestion, grabbed her cute bento box, which she had just taken out of the fridge, and headed back.
"So now you got fancy demands too?" he grumbled as she walked away. He crumpled the paper towel and tossed it skillfully toward the trash can.
"That was pretty gross, by the way..."
"Pff, next time it'll end up in yer hair."
She didn't hear his last comment. It was probably for the best.
Ignoring the cockroach stain, Atsumu trudged toward the now empty fridge, opened the door, and checked out what could still bring him some joy. Not much, though, as his mood had hit rock bottom. Work bored him, colleagues were annoying, no one appreciated anything, and good work seemed worthless.
At least the week was almost over.
He could've grabbed a can of cola from the vending machine downstairs. But he probably stole it out of frustration. Still, it was cold, tasted good, and a bit of caffeine wasn't a bad idea. Anyway, he sat back at his desk, swaying in his chair to a pleasant rhythm, and clicked through the documents he still had to deal with for the day.
Having some music at work would be nice.
At some point, the door to the elevator in the office entrance swung open, and Nakao, the current head of the department, came into the room with another person in tow.
At first, Atsumu couldn't care less, but after a quick throat clearing and Nakao's ultimate alpha-male announcement, "Hey guys, could you please pause your work for a sec? I've got something to share," he reluctantly tore his eyes away from the screen. He rolled back a bit from his desk, craning his neck to see Nakao and his sidekick.
"Meet Sakusa Kiyoomi. He's gonna take over as the head of this department next week."
Well, there he was. Not in a few days, but right here, right now. Mr. Yamada's privileged son who managed to leapfrog over Atsumu thanks to his daddy's connections. That's the only way it made sense. He stood next to Nakao, arms crossed nonchalantly, giving a quick nod when introduced. Honestly, he didn't look all that impressive. Sure, his suit seemed expensive and tailor-made, but it was nothing out of the ordinary. Especially in this industry. And it was no surprise he reeked of cash being Daddy Yamada's little heir. His dark curly hair covered his left eyebrow, and he had two tiny moles on his right. His gaze darted around the room, avoiding any direct eye contact. And every now and then, as if needing a breather, he paused and stared at the floor right in front of his feet. Yeah, he was tall, probably even taller than Atsumu. But it didn't make much difference with his hunched shoulders, slouched back, and lowered head.
Letting out a quiet snort, Atsumu leaned back in his chair and half-listened to Nakao's yammering. Nothing particularly interesting, really. Just the details about the transition and how they'd share the workload for a while. Blah, blah, blah. Hard to believe, though. This Kiyoomi guy didn't strike Atsumu as someone with much backbone. He seemed introverted and definitely not a chatterbox, just like Atsumu himself. And just because he happened to be Daddy's little favorite, he was standing there now.
Life's just not fair.
After the introductions, the obligatory "let's work well together" crap followed, and Nakao bid farewell, heading back to his own office. Atsumu's colleagues exchanged pleasantries, and everyone returned to their usual spots.
As for Atsumu, he felt like kicking something. Maybe Sakusa's shin, so it'd hurt like hell. Or a solid nutshot to Nakao and Daddy Yamada, just for a brief and frustrating moment. Yeah, it'd be satisfying. Shaking his head slightly at the thought, he turned his attention back to his computer screen. Suddenly, out of nowhere, an unfamiliar voice chimed in, disturbingly close.
"Miya Atsumu? Mind if we have a quick chat in private?"
In that split second it took for Atsumu to look in Sakusa's direction, he wondered how the hell this guy managed to sneak up on him so silently. The voice alone sent shivers down his spine, making him uneasy. It was deep, not too loud, but dripping with self-assurance — beautiful and yet reeking of pure arrogance. Sakusa's gaze only confirmed Atsumu's impression. Looking down on him from above, cool as a cucumber, with pitch-black eyes that seemed to give zero shits about anything.
Damn, it made Atsumu sick to his stomach.
"Sure."
Not particularly convinced by the situation, Atsumu reluctantly stood up and followed Mr. Yamada's protégé down the hallway, passing by the aquarium-like meeting rooms, until they reached one of the individual offices. As they walked, Atsumu couldn't help but notice that the guy kept checking his reflection in the glass every now and then. It was subtle, but not exactly inconspicuous. And it wasn't just to fix his tie.
"Go ahead," Sakusa said, stopping in front of his office door and stepping aside slightly. It seemed Atsumu was expected to let himself in. Seriously, there was something off about this guy.
Atsumu wrinkled his nose, giving his new boss a skeptical look. He grabbed the doorknob, pushed the door open, and entered the room. He wasn't about to hold the door open and wait for this fancy gentleman to enter. Even if he was asked, the answer would be a clear no.
For a moment, Atsumu felt a sense of victory as he was about to explore the room. But his triumphant moment was interrupted when Sakusa walked past him, exuding an unpleasant self-assured aura. With a rather distasteful tone, Sakusa said, "Close the door and take a seat," as if he couldn't be bothered to lift a finger to do the simplest tasks himself. His shoulders were still tense, far from relaxed.
Atsumu couldn't help but stare at him in disbelief for a few seconds. This guy was dead serious. It wasn't a command, but it wasn't a polite request either. Sakusa spoke with certainty, but his body language revealed discomfort.
This guy must have been completely nuts.
Atsumu couldn't resist uttering a quick "Tsk." However, he quickly realized that it might not be a good idea to get on the new department head's nerves on his first day. He took a step back towards the door, closed it, and then stood behind the chair that was offered to him. There was no way he would sit directly in front of Sakusa, looking up at him. He was already a few inches taller, and Atsumu wasn't going to make himself even smaller.
He rested his hands on the backrest, tried to relax a bit, looked into Kiyoomi's black eyes, and asked in a friendly yet firm tone, "So, what's the deal, Sakusa-san? How can I help you?" The subtle smile on his lips showed a hint of dominance, and combined with his unwavering gaze, it often made people fearful—on purpose. However, Sakusa seemed completely unfazed. Not a single muscle twitched as he replied.
"My father expects me to take over this department immediately—"
Well, that was obvious. But Sakusa's tone didn't sound particularly convinced.
"—He's confident that I can maintain the current performance and even improve it in the near future—"
Yeah, yeah. Flattery was boring. Atsumu was more interested in the catch. If Sakusa would ever get to the point.
"—However, I don't think I'm particularly qualified for the role. Especially after going through the files to prepare myself. In my opinion, if my father had chosen a sensible successor for the department head position, Miya-san would have been the best choice."
No shit, Sherlock. "Well, are we here for ya to rub this dang obvious fact in my face?" Atsumu couldn't hold his tongue any longer.
Sakusa paused for a moment, studying Atsumu, and then continued in the same calm and monotonous tone. "I was thinking more along the lines of collaboration. We can't share the position, but I do need a certain level of expertise, at least for the first few months."
"Oh, I see. I'll be doin' all the work while ya take credit for the results?" Atsumu quickly responded, highly suspicious and not particularly concerned about being professional. He wasn't some high-class secretary, and he certainly wouldn't do the grunt work for some wealthy snob. Especially not without a proper position or a fitting salary.
Mr. Look-at-me-all-fancy crossed his arms, casually crossed his legs, and shrugged.
"No, that will naturally be taken into account in the performance evaluation. Plus, it would come with a salary increase."
"How much we talkin' 'bout here?"
"Twenty-five percent."
Damn. For a little extra babysitting, that wasn't a bad offer at all.
"I'll need to think 'bout it."
"Sure, no problem."
As Atsumu left his new boss's office, the hot, stuffy summer air hit him like a punch. The noise from the malfunctioning air conditioning suddenly seemed much louder. It dawned on him that the individual offices for the "more important" employees seemed to receive higher priority. Nothing seemed broken there. They were brand new and freshly polished. Maybe the comparison was a bit exaggerated. After all, the system had only broken a few days ago, and someone must have already taken care of it. There wasn't anything really old here. And if Atsumu finally got off his ass and made a request, they would also make an effort to get him a new desk and chair. But sometimes, he expected a bit of initiative from the management. After all, their money didn't come from thin air.
Gritting his teeth, he glanced at the business card Sakusa had just given him. High-quality printing. No fancy embellishments. Maybe it was time to print his own cards again. This one was definitely going into the trash.
Over the weekend, Atsumu had been doing some serious thinking. Sakusa's salary proposal sounded pretty attractive, to be honest. But there was this nagging feeling that it was all a bit unofficial, which held him back from jumping on board with excitement. He couldn't figure out the real motivation behind his new boss's request. Plus, he had Mr. Nakao on his side, too. He had plenty of support. Though, if he had to choose between a hypothetical second Atsumu and Mr. Nakao, he'd probably ask for help himself, too.
"So, what's really botherin' ya?" Samu asked after a short pause, poking at his ice cream while his mind was clearly somewhere else.
Atsumu had talked his brother's ear off the previous evening until he finally agreed to meet up. He wasn't in the mood for phone calls, and text messages just weren't cutting it. Going to a cozy café to hang out and chat seemed like a good idea, and until last New Year's Eve, Samu had always been up for it. But since the beginning of the year, he had been keeping his distance, barely had any time for Atsumu, and even texted less. It was pretty inconvenient, especially when he needed some advice or just wanted to vent.
Now they were sitting there, searching for a shady spot and indulging in ice cream, but Samu didn't exactly look thrilled. He didn't want to talk about whatever was going on either. And every time Atsumu tried to ask, he brushed it off, saying that Atsumu was the one who wanted to talk.
Fine.
"I don't like the power imbalance," he declared finally.
"What ya mean?" Samu asked, taking notice and stirring from his absentminded state.
"Ya know, the fact that he's the boss and he ain't shy 'bout flauntin' it. And I still can't figure out what's really behind it."
"Why? Is he takin' advantage of ya?"
"What?" Atsumu asked, confused. Samu seemed a bit spaced out the whole time. He sounded unmotivated, like he wasn't really listening. Atsumu had been racking his brain, trying to understand the motivation behind Sakusa's proposal. It wasn't about any explicit actions from that slick-haired jerk; it was just a lingering feeling that he was up to something. "Nah, it ain't 'bout that"
Samu couldn't grasp it, and Atsumu couldn't get a real reaction out of him. His brother just sat there, poking at his ice cream and not eating a single spoonful.
Samu simply didn't get it. Having a new boss wasn't really the issue. Well, maybe it was a bit of a problem that they completely ignored him during the selection process. But what really got under Atsumu's skin was how casually he was being used. He was qualified enough to do the job himself and didn't want to be treated like an insignificant worthless minion.
Feeling disappointed by Samu's lack of response, Atsumu leaned back, crossed his arms, and sulked for a moment before taking a deep breath to continue his rant. "Ya know what bugs me? It's just plain annoyin'."
"That he snatched the job away from ya?" Samu asked, catching on finally.
"Yeah! And then he still 'xpects me to do it!"
"But ya gettin' more money, don't 'cha?"
"Yeah, sure. But I ain't got full control, and the actual salary ain't all that."
"Well, at least ya gettin' paid."
"Do ya even care? I swear, talkin' to a daycare kid is easier than tryin' to have a proper conversation with y'all."
"Uh-huh…"
Atsumu tensed up, giving his brother an annoyed look. If he didn't want to talk about what was ruining his mood so much, then he shouldn't make such a fuss. After an impatient exhale, he decided it was best to end the conversation. "Fine, forget it."
Samu remained silent. Atsumu remained silent. Until he couldn't take it anymore and angrily riffled through his wallet, pulled out a bill, and slammed it on the table in front of his brother as he stood up. "You know what? I'm out. Keep the rest."
"Tsumu."
He didn't feel like dealing with whatever was bothering Samu right now. The undertone sounded like "I already have enough problems, so please don't add to it," and he wasn't in the mood for that. In a brief moment of guilt, he glanced over his shoulder and saw his brother resting his head on the table.
Something serious was going on, but apparently, it wasn't his problem, and therefore not his responsibility.
They hadn't even touched their ice creams.
The whole situation was irritating, and everything seemed filled with half-truths and unspoken accusations. Samu wasn't much help, Kita was texting cliché life advice ("Just trust yer gut. If ya think he's takin' advantage of ya, ya don't have to put up with it."), and the colleagues he thought he could discuss these issues with only patted him on the back and congratulated him on his 25% raise.
Apparently, nobody really understood where the problem lay, and Atsumu himself was starting to wonder why he had such a hard time saying yes or no. It was probably his ego battling against his concerns about money, and that was the end of the story.
In fact, he was probably being an ass, weighing his career problems against whatever was going on with Samu. But on the other hand, Samu could have just spoken up.
Frustrated, Atsumu kicked a loose pebble on the sidewalk and muttered under his breath.
Even the weather was unbearable. Not a cloud in sight for weeks, and the summer smog seeped into their lungs with every breath. Normally, he didn't mind getting a nice tan in the sun, but being stuck in the office day after day, wearing a shirt and pants, made the weather feel more like an involuntary sauna than a vacation. Plus, his arm hurt almost as much as it did during heavy autumn rain or freezing winter cold. 'Weather' wasn't exactly something that fared well with prominent scars.
A few blocks later, Atsumu stopped and collected himself. He took a deep breath, pulled a coin out of his pocket, and flicked it into the air. If it landed on the right side, he'd go for this strange offer and treat himself to that extra cash.
But not without a solid contract, of course.