Work Text:
Miya Osamu admits to the fact that he’s a workaholic. He works twenty-five hours a day, nine days a week, and seldom takes any time off. Miya Onigiri is his restaurant, after all. It’s not like he doesn’t trust his small screw of dedicated workers, most of whom have been with him since the start. It’s just that it’s his restaurant, his first restaurant, his pride and joy and an inanimate building which Atsumu has often teased him of treating like his child. He can’t really argue with that when he treats it so preciously. Even a year after it’s opening, it still looks new, unlike other restaurants of this type.
A kitchen with the grease marks being cleaned on a daily basis, stains nonexistent, tables polished carefully as to not stain, windows so clean they often have to take in birds that crashed into them and help the poor things survive, and a nice indoor plant by the front door which they call Onigiri due to their sheer level of creativity.
Somehow, they managed to make him spend their Thursday off actually doing something that could be considered relaxing rather than being alone in the restaurant with onl the kitchen lights on, washing rice, marinating meats, and if he has time, fermenting spare rice for another dose of limited edition sake.
So they went to the beach. Osamu admits that he had fun. He got a call from Atsumu telling him how he was bored because their newest hitter, Sakusa Kiyoomi, who had caught Atsumu’s attention due to being another person his age besides Bokuto Koutarou going out with a friend who is on the enemy team, the Schweiden Adlers.
So he swam with his employees who he thinks he can call friends now. He enlightened Atsumu for a good forty-five minutes before forcing him to hang up so he can enjoy the melon drink his youngest employee, Sakura, had gotten him and the others. They went swimming. He floated on a few large waves on his stomach, plowing into the moistened sand and laughing the impact off because it actually was fun. He got a lot of pictures. He tried a few new types of foods. He got slightly sunburned. The only bad thing that happened was the first time he tried riding the wave and ended up choking on water, but it wasn’t bad. It was just the sting of the salt that felt weird.
The real trouble actually began when he returned to his apartment. The day was tiring, yeah. His legs feel weird now that he’s no longer in the water, in a near gravity-less environment. He rubs his chest. There’s also a strange sort of...pain, there. Like a bruise, but not really.
“Must be all the laughin’” he huffs, taking his swimsuit out of the bag he took before padding to the kitchen to wash it and hang it on the balcony to try out. He also considers washing the towel but he already feels exhausted when he finishes hanging up the swimsuit. His breathing comes out more labored. A cough tears itself from his throat and it actually hurts.
“Ugh” he groans. He thinks about getting dinner from the fridge but thinks against it. He stands there in the hallway, thinking. About everything and nothing. What a strange juxtaposition. He turns and goes to his bedroom, not bothering with closing the door, collapsing on his bed. He doesn’t realize it then, not in the longer than usual time it takes for him to fall asleep, but his breathing is off. It’s heaving and it requires him to breath through his mouth, the harshness of it as if he was trying to catch his breath after playing a full set.
When Osamu wakes up seven hours later, it’s to a pain in his chest, a raw throat, dry lips, and sweating skin. Fever his foggy brain tells him. He rolls over but all that does is make his cough come out harsher and the pain in his chest increase.
“Gods, that was a bad idea.” There’s no way he’ll be able to go to work like this. Actually he could. He just needs to get a mask and keep away from the food, sticking to his office and going through bills and budget spendings and inventory stocking.
He gets up and nearly falls over from how the world spins. He tries to take in air, but it doesn’t seem to want to come. He curls his fingers around his throat, coughing, collapsing onto his knees.
“Hey Samu” Atsumu says, turning his head to him, an excited grin on his face. Osamu keeps his face neutral but he can feel the excitement that spreads through him because he knows what Atsumu is going to say if that look is on his face. “That...that looked really cool.” Osamu nods, looking across the net at the newest team they have.
“Ya think we can do it?” He already knows the answer.
“Of course, idiot” Atsumu rolls his eyes, elbowing Osamu. “And we’ll do it better. They’ll never be able to pick themselves back up again.”
Osamu comes to with a disgusting smell permeating his nostrils and the side of his face laying in something wet. He quickly sits up, closing his eyes against the sudden dizzy spell, lifting the hem of his shirt to wipe the vomit he fainted in.
“Great. Abs’lutely great” he mutters, opening his eyes and staring down at whatever he wasn’t able to digest from yesterday, eyes widening when he sees red streaked through the liquid, dried on the wooden floor.
He doesn’t remember eating anything that red. He swallows, only to taste iron.
He reaches behind him- there goes office work too - and texts work that he won’t be able to go to work today due to illness. He smiles when he doesn’t immediately receive any texts back- that means they’re actually working.
With a great amount of effort, he manages to stand. Using the wall as support, he pockets his phone, grabs his keys, grabs and puts on a mask, and wears a clean set of clothes and shoes. Then he stumbles out the doorway and down the hallway.
“Hey, Miya! How are you doing!” His neighbor waves from where she has just returned home, carrying a bag of groceries. Osamu nods at her, ignoring the ringing that starts to occupy his ears, making her voice seem more and more muddled. His hand makes it to shoulder level before he suddenly can’t breathe. He sees his neighbor frown at him, asking him what he’s doing. He can’t even shake his head. He can’t control his body as his eyes roll up and his arm drops with his body.
He doesn’t even feel the impact.
Miya Atsumu has been having a not-so-good day. Actually, it has been a good day, but now it’s ruined.
They have a fifteen minute break before the next segment of practice. He’s drenched with sweat already and he forget to bring his spare water bottles, so he’s stuck with refilling his water from the water fountains. Other than that, he’s had good spikes, most of his serves have landed inside of the boundaries, Sakusa hasn’t blown up at him yet, Hinata is still a ball of sunshine, and Bokuto isn’t being that annoying- he’s actually kinda civilized.
But now , the random number on his phone won’t stop calling. He doesn’t know who it is but he doesn’t want to get chatted up by a persistent salesperson looking to scam a famous volleyball player, no thank you very much. And he’s already tried denying the call but they keep. On. Calling.
He has a new thing to complain to his brother about now.
“Hey, Atsumu?” Hinata asks. “Can you just try picking it up? It might be important?”
“It probably ain’t” Atsumu snorts although that little tidbit by Hinata is now making his paranoia run wild. What if it’s someone trying to blackmail him with a bad photo? What if it’s Aran or Kita and they got a new number? What if it’s something actually bad?
...Nah. Nothing bad ever happens in real life.
“Miya” Sakusa cooly says from behind him, making Atsumu yelp and quickly turn around. The hitter has his arms crossed, looking down at him with a disapproving downturn of the lips usually hidden by his mask. “An you pick that up so it doesn’t bother us?”
Atsumu presses his lips tightly together. On one hand, stalker. On the other hand, Omi’s wrath. He sighs and holds the phone up to his ear.
“Yer one persistent salesperson, I can give ya that. But could ya stop-”
“Miya Atsumu?” The lady on the other end asks, voice shaky. “I-I’m a big fan, but I’m not here to discuss that. You’re listed as the only emergency contact and proxy Miya Osamu.” Atsumu’s heart stills. “He was brought to the hospital by emergency services approximately twenty-five minutes ago.”
“What happened?” He asks, although it comes out more like a command. He can see that his shift in tone has grabbed the attention of Bokuto, Hinata, and Sakusa, the three closest to him. Hinata not-too-subtly leans towards him, ear facing his way.
“We don’t know yet, but we need your permission to perform some procedures on Miya-san.” Atsumu bites his lower lip.
“I asked you: what. Happened.” The other end is silent for a few moments before he hears an exhale of breath.
“Give me a moment to check his file….okay...We don’t know yet. But there’s bleeding in the inside of his throat. He’s dehydrated, which isn’t very important at the moment. The doctor doesn’t know exactly what it is yet but we’ve already put Miya on an oxygen tube snice he wasn’t able to do so on his own?” Atsumu’s eyes narrow.
“What wasn’t he able to do on his own.”
“Breathe, sir. His heart stopped for a few seconds in the ambulance due to asphyxiation before they could get a mask on him. He also has a high fever, but please, sir, we need to perform x-rays on him which we cannot legally perform without human consent.”
“I consent, I consent- yer all idiots!” Atsumu seethes. He tilts his head to the side, raising his shoulder and sandwiching the phone there so that he can take his shoes off and quickly change his clothes from his bag. “Ya can screw consent for this one time- how bad is it?”
“There is still a high chance that he will make it out fine, but the odd s of him not aren’t too good since it has probably been a few hours since the condition developed and he never seeked immediate medical attention, judging by the advancement of his condition.” Atsumu mentally curses.
“So here ya are, havin’ ta ask me for consent to keep my brother alive? What shitty doctors y’all are. I swear- if he dies in your care, I’m not gonna hold back. Imma make that whole hospital’s lives hell- got it?”
“Y-yes sir.”
“Good.” Then he hangs up. And then the tears grow at his eyes.
“A-Atsumu-san?” Hinata asks, gently tugging at his sleeve. “What’s wrong? Is it Osamu-san” Atsumu nods, taking a shaky breath in. How is it that he can breathe so easily right now when his brother was actually dead , while he was enjoying practice, with a respiratory system that wouldn’t work for some reason.
“They don’t know what happened yet, but they don’t know if he’s-he’s” his voice breaks. “I’m going to Tokyo. I’ll be gone for a few days.” Then he marches over to Coach Foster and summarizes what happened. He’s so thankful when Coach hugs him, ruffling his hair, then tells him to go and hurry to his brother and that the whole team wishes his brother the best. Atsumu nods and runs to get a cab. He goes not to the train station but the airport, quickly blowing money that would pay for seven days of good dinners, breakfasts, and lunches on getting the first flight from Osaka to Tokyo. It may be more expensive, but it’s faster. And if he can spend what could be the last minutes of his brother’s life with him, then the rush and the money will be worth it. Because it’ll probably be the last time he spends that much so suddenly for someone he cares about.
Once the seatbelt signs turn off, he goes to the bathroom and locks himself in it, finally letting himself cry.
Miya Osamu comes to four days later with someone’s hand holding his and something on his face. A steady beeping quickly becomes faster.
“Samu?”
Osamu opens his eyes at the familiar voice which shouldn’t be wherever he is because he’s in Osaka , but when he opens his eyes, he sees a face identical to his own except for the expression on his face and his hair. Atsumu looks like he’s barely slept, shadows under his eyes, perfect hair ruffled and greasy.
“Tsumu?” He rasps from under whatever is letting him breathe so nicely.
“Hey there” Atsumu says and it looks like he’s about to cry. Osamu blinks at him. “Ya probably have no idea what’s goin’ on. Just...try not to talk. The doc said ya should probably take it easy fer a while.
“They said you got pulmonary edema. It’s a type of pneumonia but it’s also called delayed, secondary drowning.” Osamu blinks at him again. He can’t help the slight curl of his lips up because it sounds like Atsumu has memorized a whole encyclopedia of information on the, what is it? Pulmonary edema? Now that the words start to sink in, he starts to feel more tired more...surprised. So that’s what it was . “Anyway, you flatlined in the ambulance and you had water in yer lungs. Dehydration, some cuts in your throat from all the coughin’, and yer seriously not in really good shape, Samu.”
Osamu huffs. “I can tell” he can’t help but say. Atsumu frowns.
“Didn’t I tell ya to take it easy?”
“Ya didn’t” Osamu returns before closing his eyes, letting out a sigh. “So I died…”
“Yeah. Don’t...please don’t do that ever again, Samu. I think I scare off all the nurses and I...I just couldn’t really think ‘bout what would happen if you had died before I could even get to ya. If I never picked up that call-”
“Tsumu. I have no idea what yer talkin’ ‘bout, so don’t. Just...been a while since I’ve seen yer ugly mug.”
“Yer callin’ yourself ugly too then!”
“Nah. My face suits me. But I think...Imma work more.”
“Why?”
“Water inhalation, right? I got like this’cause I took a day off work and went to the beach.”
“Samu...that doesn’t make sense.”