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Wherever Atsumu Miya was, Osamu Miya was never too far to follow. That's how it always was, and how it always will be. It didn't matter if Atsumu was pushing Osamu to his limits both physically and mentally, or if Osamu was too busy thinking of his second lunch to listen to one of Atsumu’s petty rants, or if the both of them got into a fight so bad it ended up with bloody noses and bruised faces — they were always there. They were together in all shapes and forms, be it in begrudging apologies or late night games.
That’s what Atsumu thought until recently, anyway.
Osamu’s been acting weird, and Atsumu cannot, for the life of him, figure him out. If it was like any normal, badly hidden secret of ‘samu’s — like eating his food or spilling his drink on his weekly Shounen Jump, Atsumu was certain he would have figured it out within the day. No; this was different. Definitely. Not only was he getting weird stares from his teammates, but Osamu’s been looking at him with some sort of newfound determination and.. well, he doesn’t really know what else. Concern? Anger? He absolutely cannot put his finger on it. Did he get dumped by a girl, maybe..? No — he would’ve totally known it if that were the case. Besides, there was no way ‘samu would get a girlfriend before he did.
Well, not that it matters right now, anyway. Because Osamu Miya has been spectacularly screwing up every single one of his spikes. It was almost impressive how absolutely horrible he was. It was one thing to be keeping a secret from him, but it was a whole other issue if this stupid secret was affecting his plays. There were no secrets on the court. None at all. If Osamu wasn’t gonna spill it, he was gonna rip it out of his throat himself.
——
They were cooling off after that pathetic excuse of a match when Atsumu began, “I’m giving ya five minutes,”
“What?”
“Five. Minutes.”
Osamu looks away from him, “I dunno what yer talking about,”
Atsumu then practically explodes, “Quit it, ya punk! I wanna know what’s been messing you up this bad! How aren’t ya able to sync up with any of my sets? Not being able to is a whole new level of pathetic, you pig!”
Osamu falls oddly silent. What’s wrong with him? Normally, he would be putting on that infuriating nonchalant persona to piss him off even more. Atsumu can’t help but feel the unfamiliar feeling of worry and apprehension bubbling up inside of him.
“I.. well,” ‘samu takes a breath before he very disappointedly starts, “it’s nothin’. Don’t worry ‘bout it,”
‘Samu then…casually goes back to finishing up his cooldown, as though nothing was said between them. Atsumu was, decidedly, equally enraged and perplexed. What could this sore loser possibly be trying to hide from him? The others seem to know, so what’s got his tongue tied? He of all people should know, for sure. Atsumu huffs, and makes a very obvious point walking over to the other corner of the gym to stress-serve his concerns out of him. So much for a cooldown.
——
“Yeah, well, it’s pretty obvious that you’re not confident enough to say what you want to to him. You’re being weak. He would punch you square in the face if he saw you like this, y’know,” Suna’s cool, no-nonsense tone hums through the classroom and hallway as Atsumu makes his way back from the vending machine. He stops in his tracks.
Weak? Osamu? That one’s new, for sure. Atsumu decides to linger by the door, hidden from the two figures in the classroom.
“Well.. it isn’t like I can help it. I’ve been playing volleyball with ‘tsumu for as long as I can remember. It ain’t as easy as flipping a switch,” Osamu draws a deep breath, “just gimme some more time to think out what I’m gonna say.”
“What’s there to think about? You—“ Atsumu doesn’t get to hear the rest of Suna’s sentence, because.. wow. This is a whole lot more serious than he thought. He’s never seen ‘samu so hesitant to say whatever it was on his mind. He isn’t that sort of person — like, ever. He was brutally honest with other people, and much more so with him. This was incredibly out of character, and it very much warrants Atsumu’s growing unease.. What could it be? He tries to think of a plausible reason for it all — maybe he managed to land a sponsor or something? Or what if he was scouted for a team and Atsumu wasn’t? Would ‘samu take that chance? Well, not that he shouldn’t, but they’ve planned to play together on the same pro team since elementary school. They’ve always assumed that they’d be together, no matter what. If this was what’s been worrying him, then it makes no sense; Atsumu could easily be scouted by the same team. If they wanted ‘samu, then they definitely have his eyes on him, as well. It wasn’t something to fret about.
One thing’s for certain, though — Atsumu is definitely gonna get to the bottom of this himself.
——
The next few days are a blur. ‘Samu continues to avoid Atsumu like the plague, but that isn’t anything new. What he did manage to find out, however; whatever ‘samu’s been hiding is 100% volleyball-related. Whether the news is good or bad is.. a matter of discussion. He’s trying to figure it out.
Which brings him to his current situation: Atsumu was now staking-out the locker room, lying in wait for his person of interest. The white-haired person in question enters at 7:30 p.m. on the dot.. scary, but exactly what he’d been waiting for.
“Hey! Kita-san! I gotta ask ya something!” Atsumu sprints the 5 meters between them in a flash. Kita looks up at the younger boy with a decidedly unsurprised look.
“Yes, Atsumu? Talk to me as I clean,” Kita picks up a towel and begins to meticulously wipe down each of the lockers one by one, with Atsumu in tow.
“Well.. I wanna know what’s got ‘samu’s tongue tied. Ya know something ‘bout it, dontcha? I can’t get a hold of the rascal, else I woulda forced it out of him myself,”
Kita doesn’t look up from his work, “While I do know what it is that’s been concerning Osamu, it ain’t my place to say. You should just come up to him yourself, he can’t keep any secret from ya for very long,” he flashes him a knowing smile and moves on to mopping the floors.
Atsumu is left…not confused, per say, but definitely at a loss. Where should he go from here? What should he do to get whatever it is out of ‘samu? He’s left hurt — hurt that ‘samu, who is essentially the only person he could truly rely on, is seemingly relying on anyone but him. He’s always known that ‘samu was the more well-liked twin out of them both, but, really, this is seriously hurting his feelings! He dumbly stands in the middle of the locker room, mulling over his thoughts, as Kita-san continues cleaning as though he wasn’t there.
——
Alright, today has to be it. The day he finds out ‘samu’s ‘secret’.
Atsumu’s plan is fool-proof. He would force Osamu to sit down on one of the benches after practice, all sweaty and stinky, with some of his favourite onigiri. Then, he’d lure the truth out of him before he knows what he’s saying. It should work — no, it has to.
Just when he’s about to put phase one of his master plan into action, though, ‘samu walks up to him with a look of defiance in his eyes (Atsumu would know, because he wears the same face). He takes a deep breath, stares ‘tsumu down, and grabs the tuna mayo onigiri from his hands before sitting down on the nearest bench. Atsumu can only swallow his anticipation down and follow.
‘Samu takes a bite of his onigiri and swallows before beginning, which was already weird in and of itself. If it were any other day, that boar would nastily talk to him with a whole onigiri in his mouth. But it wasn’t. Even he, in all his stubbornness, could tell that this was exceptionally important. Atsumu braces himself for whatever hit in the gut comes next.
“I’m not going pro, ‘tsumu. I’ve made up my mind long ago,” Atsumu’s heart drops. Not going pro? What was he talking about?
Osamu looks him dead in the eye and continues, “You love volleyball more than I do, and I’d only hate the sport if I kept playing any longer than this. I don’t want ya playing with that version of me — I won’t let you. I’m gonna own my own restaurant one day, and I’m gonna absolutely love it. I’ll watch ya go pro from my own kitchen in my own restaurant, away from you volleyball-loving monster. I’m gonna look at you from the stands and think of everything we were, and everything you will be on the court, you hear me?”
Atsumu can’t stop the fat, angry tears from rolling down his cheeks. For the first time in his life, he doesn’t really know what to say. He’d forever thought that ‘samu would always be right next to him, no matter what — that he’d always be there on the court feeling at an all-time high from the rush of adrenaline after a rally. He didn’t stop, not for a second, to think that he might not want that. He was always selfish like that, he guesses. He forgot that ‘samu could be selfish, too.
(They were twins, after all — one in the same, all the time)
Osamu Miya now smiles at his twin brother. He takes one last bite and stands, bringing Atsumu up with him.
“Look at me. Ya always said that we’d be the happiest in the world, didn’t ya? Here’s me, then, happier than I’ll ever be. And you — you’re gonna be the happiest when you’re on that court with people as crazy as you are, not just with me, alright?”
Atsumu sniffles and turns away from ‘samu with feigned disinterest. He grumbles a half-hearted ‘whatever, ‘samu’ and begins to walk out the gym.
“Ya comin’ or not, ya dolt?” It wasn’t the kindest thing he could’ve said then — he is still pissed, after all —, but it got the job done.
Osamu grinned a big dopey grin and quickly ran over to where he stood by the gym door. Atsumu may be angry (or, more accurately, afraid and unsure of what the future now holds), but, like all things, he knows it’ll pass at some point. He can’t help but mirror ‘samu’s smile as they both raced into the night.
——
The flash of cameras right after the Olympic-gold winning match felt like pure ecstasy. Even if Atsumu stank like a wet dog and was panting like one too, he couldn’t deny the timelessness of the moment. Thousands of people were cheering his name as he walked off the court with his shiny new medal. Happier than this? Funny, ‘samu.
“Mr. Atsumu! Anything you’d like to say to your fans?” The foreign reporter practically screams the question into his ears — a move he’d usually beat someone up for, but one he didn’t seem to mind right now.
He had something to say, alright: he had a bone to pick with a certain brown-haired idiot in his busy onigiri restaurant, “I’M GONNA DIE THE HAPPIEST MAN ALIVE, ‘SAMU!!! I’M GONNA GROW OLD AND MAKE FUN OF YA AND YER STUPID RECIPES!!” Atsumu took a second to think before quickly adding, “but dontcha forget to have one ready by the time I’m back, ya hear?!”
——
(Osamu laughs as he watches the scene play out before him on the TV up in the corner of Onigiri Miya. He could feel ‘tsumu’s utter joy radiating off of the screen, and he couldn’t be prouder. He’d been bragging to customers about him the entire day, and almost chopped his fingers off while celebrating his win… not that’d he’d tell him that, though. He already has a crazy big ego, he doesn’t deserve more.
He instead decides to focus on the dozens of orders being yelled out by his workers, “One Miya Special, comin’ right up!”)