Chapter Text
The room was dimly lit, with the fading sunset casting a warm glow through the curtains. The air was filled with the scent of nostalgia, a familiar blend of old toys, dusty books, and memories that lingered like the echoes of laughter.
The twins sat side by side on the edge of their beds, their eyes glazed with sorrow and fondness.
“I can’t believe we’re finally sellin’ the house,” Osamu sighed.
"Feels like we're sellin’ a piece of ourselves, 'Samu, Atsumu said quietly. He looked around the room that bored their childhood memories— two worn-out foxes seated in the corner, shelves adorned with volleyball magazines, and a dusty desk that reminded him how many years had passed since they returned to the house.
“It feels unsettling with Ma's absence,” Osamu said. The room seemed to echo with the void left by their mother, a gentle reminder of her absence.
A wistful smile played on his lips as he said, "We were quite the handful for Ma, weren't we?"
Osamu chuckled with a sigh. "Yeah, she never had a moment of peace with ya always pickin’ fights with everyone in the grade."
“I did not,” he shoved his twin playfully, “Ya’re such a scrub.”
“She was a strong woman. Raised us well fer doing it all by herself.” Osamu, his voice suddenly solemn.
The twins' father had departed after their fifth birthday, leaving Mama Miya to raise them alone. But their pa's leaving didn’t stop Mama Miya from stepping up. She was why Osamu and Atsumu were as accomplished as they were. Acting as both a father and a mother, she ensured that the twins never felt the absence of a father figure. Atsumu, in particular, deeply admired his Ma, appreciating her resilience and refusal to succumb to despair. He looked at the ceiling at the comment, his eyes catching the glow-in-the-dark sticker now slowly peeling. He debated the words he was going to say, and he knew Osamu would be upset at him for uttering the words. But he needed to get it out of his chest.
"I wish I could meet Pa once," he said wistfully, the room seemingly holding its breath in anticipation. Osamu whipped his head towards him angrily, the air thickening with unspoken tension.
“'Tsumu, what’s wrong with ya?” Osamu's inquiry carried a sharp edge. “Why would ya wanna meet that bastard? That’s like an insult to Ma.”
"Naw, Samu. It ain't like that," he clarified, his voice gentle. "I just wanna know why he left. Why did he leave Ma all alone to raise us."
"Was there somethin’ wrong with us?" he whispered, the room embracing the vulnerability of the question.
“Naw, there ain't nothin’ wrong with us, 'Tsumu,” Osamu reassured with conviction. “He was a coward who couldn't handle his responsibilities.”
They sat silently, contemplating what to say next without hurting each other’s feelings.
Simultaneously, the grandfather clock downstairs struck twelve, resonant chimes echoing through the house. Atsumu headed downstairs to the kitchen, where he had attempted to bake earlier. After lighting candles and carefully carrying the cake, he entered their room, the door swinging wide open.
"Happy Birthday, 'Samu," he greeted, a broad smile lighting up his face.
Looking at the cake, Osamu teased, "Is this what ya were doin’ so early in the mornin’?”
“Well, of course, it was our birthday,” he said. “I was too lazy to go out and buy a cake, so I baked one instead. Ain’t it pretty?”
“It looks ugly as hell, ‘'Tsumu,” Osamu said.
He sputtered and yelled back, "Shaddup, ya ass. "I woke up at an ungodly hour to bake yer ass a cake, and this is how ya give me yer appreciation."
Despite the banter, a fleeting smile graced Osamu's face, momentarily dispersing the tension that had been present earlier in the room. Osamu, still chuckling, approached and blew out the candles.
"Make a wish," Atsumu encouraged.
"I did," Osamu declared. "I wished that ya would never find someone and will be stuck third wheelin’ me and Rin." A playful kick to the shin accompanied his proclamation, leading to more laughter.
"Why would ya wish that? What if it comes true?" he whined, to which Osamu just laughed. Relighting the candles, he took the cake from Atsumu’s hands. "Yer turn," he said.
Atsumu scoffed but complied, blowing the candles. "Make a wish," he heard Osamu prompt. Closing his eyes, Atsumu whispered a silent plea, almost lost in the room's shadows. His unspoken desire weighed heavily on his chest. "I wish I could meet Pa," he repeated softly as if testing the waters of the unseen forces around him.
Osamu remained silent, offering no indication that he had caught the words of the wish, but Atsumu sensed the he had in the clenching of his brother's jaw. "Happy birthday, ‘Tsumu," Osamu's voice cut through the quiet moment. "Just... be careful of what you wish fer; ya never know when it might come true."
Atsumu took a deep breath and chuckled, dismissing the wish's weight. "It's just a silly wish, 'Samu. Don't take it too seriously." Osamu sighed, nodding in agreement. "Let's not spoil our birthday by aruguin’ over somethin’ trivial like this." A sense of relief washed over Atsumu as Osamu shifted the focus away from the topic
After the birthday celebration, the twins cleaned up the remnants of the cake and the scattered laughter that echoed in the room. Exhausted but content, they decided to retire to their beds, ready for sleep to drag them to the following day.
As Atsumu lay in bed, his mind swirled with uncertainty about the wish he had made. The desire to meet his estranged father lingered in his thoughts for years now. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy towards those who still had their pas’ around. Don't get him wrong, he admired his mother for taking on both roles admirably, but he wished his absent pa hadn't vanished during moments like celebrating achievements with a father.
Celebrating winning a Volleyball tournament.
Sharing a drink for the first time with his Pa.
Those were the moments he’d never get to experience with his Pa. He longed for those shared moments of pride and celebration that others took for granted. He couldn't shake the lingering doubt despite knowing his wish's improbability.Would his ma disapprove of his longing to reconnect with a man who had caused them so much pain? The weight of that question pressed on him, making his chest feel heavier than it had felt the past week. Restlessly tossing and turning, Atsumu yearned for the solace of deep sleep, yet his eyes remained wide open, betrayed by the restlessness of his mind. The silence of the night was disrupted only by the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall, each second ticking away like a countdown to an uncertain destiny.
And then, as if the universe had sensed his desperate plea for respite, a sudden shift occurred. A disorienting sensation enveloped him, and the room blurred at the edges. He desperately tried to keep his eyes open as his ears began to ring. He sat on his bed, covering his ears and gasping for air, suddenly becoming a struggle. Gasping for air, Atsumu found himself amid a struggle against an unseen force. The room pulsed with otherworldly energy, and he couldn't comprehend whether it was a dream or a waking nightmare. The lines between reality and fantasy blurred as he grappled with the sensations.
And suddenly, for a quiet second, his senses heightened. The room seemed to hold its breath as a strange whisper, barely audible, caressed his ears. "Your wish is command," it echoed ominously, something far more ominous than the comforting resonance of Osamu's earlier words. “Be cautious about what you wish for. Once the wish escapes your lips, there is no turning back once this ink marks the page.”
"Samu," Atsumu managed to murmur, but his voice sounded distant as if reaching Osamu from a great distance. However, before he could slip away from the fog, a wave of dizziness washed over him, and his consciousness slipped away like sand through his fingers. The room seemed to warp and twist, and Atsumu succumbed to the void, his surroundings fading into darkness.
𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊
He jolted awake, the sudden shock forcing him to take deep gasps. His hands fumbled in the dark, seeking the familiar comfort of his blankets, but instead, his hands were met with dewy blades of grass. Confusion set in as he looked around the unfamiliar surroundings, the remnants of sleep fading away.
"No fuckin’ way," he muttered, head whipping around. His last memory was falling asleep after cutting his birthday cake with 'Samu. Now, he was sitting in the middle of a vast field, without signs of civilization for miles.
Panic began to creep in. Thoughts raced through his mind, picturing his twin brother Samu worrying about his sudden disappearance, especially with the volleyball season just around the corner. How was he going to explain this situation to him?
Calm down, Atsumu
He reassured himself, attempting to quell his rising anxiety. The last thing to do in this situation was to start panicking. If he started walking and tried to escape this forest, he could find someone in the middle of the road or even get out there. He stood, brushing off the grass, clinging to his clothes, surveying the dense wilderness surrounding him.
Ya, I’m such a genius.
With a resigned sigh, he muttered, "Might as well start walking," and followed a path with fewer visible obstacles, scanning the surroundings for familiarity. However, all that met his eyes were towering trees and an unending expanse of nature. He wasn’t even much of a hiker, so he wouldn't have even recognized the forest no matter what. As he pressed on, he could only hear the subtle chirps of birds and the hum of crickets. Suddenly, a rustle disrupted his peaceful walk, prompting him to pause in his steps. His eyes darted in search of the source, but silence followed.
It must be a small animal scampering away.
He shrugged his shoulder and resumed his steps, but the rustling returned closer this time. No longer dismissing it as coincidence, he looked around for a makeshift weapon. He seized a large stick lying near his feet for defense. He brought the stick out in front of him as a weapon and instinctively backed away as the rustling grew closer.
Summoning courage, he whispered, "Deep breaths, Atsumu. Use self-defense that ya were taught in junior high." As he retreated, his back met something warm and living. Startled, he yelped and swung the stick wildly, shouting, "Die, ya monster! I'm too young to die!"
A familiar voice cut through the chaos, "Stop! What are you doing?" Atsumu opened his eyes to see a familiar face standing before him with arms scarred and exhausted