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"Do you believe in fate?"
"Fate, destiny, soulmates; they're all fetters tying you down, chains that keep you from carving out your own path."
His flowers bloom when he is six, stalks of gladioli spanning across his collarbones in greys.
His mother wipes away his frightened tears, holding both of them close as she consoles him. She is solemn as she tells them of the Soulmate Flowers, markings that appear for a select 34% of the world's population.
A predestined fate that is mapped out for a select few.
Osamu is sceptical in the face of Atsumu's awe. How can someone he's never met before, be the right person for his twin? Their mother laughs fondly at their pouty glares, assuring them that if he chooses to, he does not have to trek down that fated path.
"You can change your fate Atsumu, not everything is set in stone."
A week later, Osamu receives dainty irises running up his forearms. They compare flowers, and then promptly declare that they're just pretty tattoos like Hana-Oneesan's.
They don't speak of soulmates again.
"I think it was fate that we met."
"We have different flowers Miya."
"And?"
Some claim that your Gods-given soulmate is the one who has an identical set of flowers, along with a matching placement. There are testaments of partners meeting, their first touch setting off a slow colouring of their flowers, with most experiencing an accompanying burn.
It sounds magical yes, but also burdensome.
What if their personalities clashed, what if they had different interests and tastes?
What if they grew up in opposite sides of the world, what about the culture shocks?
Does love and connection magically appear just because they have matching tattoos?
Do they have any assurance that the other will not cheat? In such a situation is the wronged partner still expected to forgive and forget?
What if one dies? Is the other allowed to move on?
"Are you not waiting for your match?"
"Omi-kun, really?"
"You've never dated anyone."
"Since when do you care about my love life- hey! Stop shoving me, I'm gonna drop my ice cream!"
Atsumu registers his flowers on his nineteenth birthday, Osamu right next to him.
The manager is kind but nosy.
"Are you sure about this? Anonymity is convenient, but you may regret missing out on the opportunity of meeting your fated."
They thank her for her concern with smiles too bright, too wide to be genuine, exiting the drab office with barely contained sighs. 'Samu's ring gets them some leeway from inquisitive staff, but the receptionist still throws them dirty looks as they pass her.
"Man, people really love sticking their noses in everything."
"Its human nature to be needling pricks, 'Samu."
"You're like a minute older, stop acting wise 'Tsumu."
"Bastard."
"..."
"..."
"I swear to god if that scout says one word about-"
"Alright. Looks like that's enough beer for today. Rin-rin, come get your man."
"Hypothetically..."
"Hm?"
"If I asked you out on a date, would you say no?"
"..."
"Right, sorry. Forget I asked, please."
The MSBY Black Jackals are a sudden breath of fresh air amongst the other V. League teams.
His flowers don't get any more than a passing mention, and he finds himself integrating into team dynamics with an ease that surprises even Osamu, that jerk.
Bokuto is a whirlwind of emotions and energy, though he seems to have matured since his Fukurodani days. Meian-san reminds him of Aran-kun, a reliable pillar with a bit more of easygoingness. Inunaki gleefully takes every opportunity to raze him, but Atsumu quickly shuts him down with his still-working-on-a-cool-name hybrid serve. Barnes, the oldest in the team, and probably the most level-headed of them, is a canon of raw power. Thomas... he's got the spirit but English isn't a strong point of Atsumu's, and they communicate mostly through enthusiastic hand gestures.
It is into this chaotic mess that Sakusa is tossed in, with no one quite sure why he chose the Jackals.
Nevertheless, his freaky spin on his spikes, and even deadlier serves and digs, earn him a starting spot in the team. Bo-kun sulks for a few days, lamenting about a rivalry that seems one-sided before Omi-Omi is also folded into the team.
Atsumu vividly remembers the ace from Itachiyama, and he is thrilled at the challenge of setting for a spiker of his calibre and expectations.
Their personalities clash at first, to absolutely no one's surprise. On the court, however, they sync in a way that pushes back the sting of abandonment and bruised egos, leaving behind pure exhilarated thrill for the future.
Wary admiration soon turns into reluctant friendship, which then mortifyingly, distorts into raging attraction.
Which.
Look.
He gets it, ok?
The man is devastatingly beautiful, and with therapy mellowing out his standoffish personality, Atsumu finds himself inexplicably drawn to the other. Behind that prickly, sea-urchin exterior is someone who can match him in both sass and competitiveness, and has the skill to back up his trash talk.
Having said that-
Wasn't he way too old for awkward boners?!
Osamu is of absolutely zero help.
He listens to them cackling like hyenas, internally cussing out his decision to call his twin while Rin was around.
"Are you done yet," he grouses into the phone.
"Atsumu you dear, oblivious, fucknut. He was your gay awakening in high school, dumbass. How did you not see this coming?"
He splutters indignantly, caught off guard.
"He was not."
Osamu cackles again.
"Yeah, sure! That's why we had to endure the bitching about that pretty bastard from Itachiyama the whole week after training camp. And why, a month later, you went and confessed to Kita-san after being in denial for nearly the whole of 2nd year?!"
"Wait, what does Kita-san have to do with this?!"
"Two words, 'Tsumu. Gay. Awakening."
Disgruntled, he ends the call and tosses his phone onto his bed, their laughter still ringing in his ears.
"Assholes."
"..."
"..."
"I asked you out weeks ago, you asshole. Where's this coming from?!"
"You ran away before I could answer?! And that was last Saturday?!"
"You never brought it up again?!"
"...This is me. Bringing it up."
They announce their relationship over twitter, the hashtag sakuatsu trending within minutes, and quite possibly breaking the internet.
Their teammates are infuriatingly smug about it, for some reason, with Meian-san throwing suspiciously triumphant smirks everytime one of them slips up with the PDA in front of the team.
Even Shoyo-kun, their newest member, joins in on the subtle ribbing.
Or well he used to- at least before Bokuto exposes him for his cavity-inducing relationship with the Adler's Kageyama-kun.
Sunlight streams in through the half-open curtains, the rays hitting him in the face as he blinks himself into consciousness. Beside him, the sheets pool around Kiyomi as he shifts in his sleep, exposing his bare torso. Atsumu smiles down at the man, pressing a fleeting kiss to his temple before silently slipping out of bed.
They had decided to spend their off day sleeping in, and Atsumu tries his best to avoid clamouring as he goes through his morning routine.
Despite the extra caution, arms snake around his waist as he brushes his teeth, and he sighs affectionately as Kiyomi lazily plasters himself against his back.
Reaching out to thread his fingers through those unruly curls, he chuckles as he feels soft kisses rain on his neck.
"Sorry I woke you up."
He gets an unintelligible mumble in response.
"Gonna have to repeat that."
"Come back to bed," is whispered into his neck.
"Lazy," he can't help but tease in return.
"Mm-hmm."
He grins as he spits out the paste and rinses, maintaining eye contact through the mirror with a now grumpy Kiyomi.
A put-off sigh, and then the other is pulling away to grab his own brush, a half-hearted glare trained on Atsumu as he silently protests the refusal.
His heart swells with affection as he leans against the counter, grinning stupidly when Kiyomi swats at him for leering at the hickeys littered across his chest.
He moves towards the cabinets, playfully hip checking Kiyomi as he passes him. A grunt and a choke answer him, and he whirls around, mildly concerned.
"What's wrong?"
"Your flowers-"
"My flowers?"
He spins back around to face the mirror, shocked into silence when he sees the colour creeping up his collarbones. Disbelief roots him to the spot as Kiyomi pads over, reaching out to lightly trace the path of colour.
"Cornflowers."
"Huh?"
Kiyomi taps his skin where blue sprouts among the whites and greens. Sure enough, those are cornflowers crawling up the stalks.
"Omi. Turn around. Please."
He complies, shivering slightly as Atsumu's fingertips run down the vibrant blue flowers and now white gladioli adorning his spine.
Wide eyes meet his as he exhales sharply and maneuvres himself into Kiyomi's arms.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"...How?"
"I don't know?"
They stay like that for a while, Atsumu tucking his face into the crook of the other's neck, both seeking an anchor in the unexpected turn of events.
"This doesn't change much, does it?"
He huffs softly. "No, I suppose not."
"Guessing its a lot more permanent than a ring though."
A low chuckle escapes him. "Maybe this one will finally convince people."
"Still can't believe they thought we faked our vows."
"Ugh, don't remind me. That was a nightmare to deal with."
They dissolve into helpless laughter at the memory, Atsumu drawing back a little to wipe at his eyes. "Eh, who cares about the rest of the world. You're stuck with me forever now, Kiyomi. The fates said so."
"Oh?"
"You know what I mean."
"Mm-hmm."
"That was some freaky shit though."
A snort.
"No kidding."