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What if Atsumu ended his volleyball career in high school just like Osamu because his brother’s leave was too painful for him to manage?
Volleyball didn’t bring Atsumu comfort anymore, he couldn’t look at the ball without feeling like his insides were filled with needles. Without the feeling of loneliness and wistfulness painfully gripping his heart.
After Inarizaki’s last tournament he stopped attending practice. He declined every offer he received from professional teams. Outside volleyball he wasn’t good at anything else. He didn’t get into any university, didn’t want to attend a private one - his family spent enough money for Osamu’s business courses. Atsumu started working odd jobs, trying to find something that made him feel the same way volleyball did.
But it was fruitless and Atsumu remained unhappy.
He saw some of his friends and the people he knew from the nationals get into V.League, play with the best. When he saw Kageyama in the television at the Olympics, he thought:
“This could have been me.”
But it wasn’t. And it never will be.
Some people wondered what happened to Miya Atsumu, to the best high school setter in the whole Japan. What happened to the prodigy that disappeared from the world of volleyball as if he was never there in the first place. But no one knew the answer except for Atsumu. Even Osamu, after countless demands, never got a proper response.
Miya Atsumu always expressed his love in volleyball.
“We don’t need things like memories.”
So he took this motto to heart and left the sport in the past, along with his happiness.
Atsumu completely avoided anything volleyball related, getting visibly uncomfortable if the topic of the sport came up during a conversation.
One day, Atsumu was tidying his apartment when he found a box with his old things. Inside were some of his volleyball trophies from high school and he just. Breaks down. Clutching his best server award while fat tears fall down his face.
Atsumu moved to Osaka - Ginjima needed a roommate and Atsumu was searching for a new job anyways, so he took the chance to get out of Hyogo. He managed to snag a waiter position at an izakaya during the evenings - that gave him an opportunity to find another small job during the day.
Despite the drunks and women flirting with him like crazy, it was one of the better jobs he had. The hustle kept his mind busy and if anyone got too rowdy, his big frame was usually enough to scare them off. He could casually talk to customers without worrying over getting fired. It was good.
But one evening, something changed.
Atsumu was working like always, there was chatter, music playing gently in the background, nothing new. There was a loud group of people in one of the private rooms - Atsumu’s shift began when they were already there. He was supposed to take a pretty big order to the room, which, again, wasn’t a problem, he could balance a few beers just fine.
He walks into the room, the usual “Here’s your order-” already on his lips, when a familiar voice interrupts him.
“Miya?”
Atsumu turned his head and right in front of him, sitting by one of the low tables, was Sakusa Kiyoomi. Not only that, beside him more familiar faces were stuck in similar surprise.
“...Atsumu-san?” Hinata Shoyou muttered.
Bokuto Kotarou blinked his eyes before pointing at Atsumu with a loud, “Inarizaki’s setter!”
It took everything for Atsumu to not drop the drinks in his hands on the floor. Not even a second later, an obviously fake smile took the entirety of his face and with a simple “Please enjoy~” Atsumu put the drinks on the table and left as fast as he could, pretending he didn’t hear the whispers of “Miya? As in, Miya Atsumu?” coming from other people in the room.
These were MSBY Black Jackals. The team that sent him a very generous contract offer a few years ago. The team some of his high school rivals apparently played for.
Shit.
Fortunately, the place got busy and Atsumu didn’t have to enter the cursed room again.
Unfortunately, this wasn’t the only time he stumbled upon the group.
Every friday, like on clock, the team would be inside the izakaya just as Atsumu’s shift began. Bokuto and Hinata always asked him the same questions as he brought their drinks.
“Are you still playing volleyball?”
“Why didn’t you come to MSBY?”
“Why are you working here instead of playing professionally?”
“Why did you disappear?”
Not so long after, some of the other players joined in, curious about the rookie who declined the offer to play for one of the best teams in Japan.
Everytime, Atsumu ignored them with his fake smile, sometimes turning into a sneer when the team got too nosy. The only one who allowed him to work in peace was Sakusa, who simply nodded in thanks when Atsumu brought their orders.
Atsumu tried talking to the owner of the bar, asking if he could swap shifts on Fridays with someone else, but it wasn’t possible, considering the evening crowd at the beginning of the weekend.
Atsumu wanted to run away from anything volleyball related, not have a bunch of volleyball players tormenting him with this very topic once a week.
One evening, after another wave of particularly frustrating questions, the other workers allowed Atsumu to have a break. Frustrated, he went outside the bar, a lit cigarette already in his mouth. Just as he took a drag, a familiar voice startled him.
“Never took you for a smoking type, Miya.”
Atsumu turned his face towards Sakusa, who closed the entrance doors behind his frame and joined Atsumu by the wall.
“Life does that to a guy sometimes, Omi-kun.”
“Still with the nickname?”
Atsumu chuckled softly. “Never lost its charm. Why didja leave the room? It’s pretty cold today.”
“I needed some fresh air.”
“While I’m smokin’? Eh, suit yourself.”
They stood in comfortable silence, Sakusa checking his phone, while Atsumu finished his smoke. As he dropped the butt and snuffed it out with his shoe, Sakusa spoke once again.
“What happened, Miya?”
In a moment of clarity, be it from the spiker’s comforting presence or something else, Atsumu smiled at him sadly, for the first time honest.
“I couldn’t find it in myself to love it anymore.”
Atsumu remembered the spark of rivalry they shared in high school, the same hunger for the win. Out of all the people, Sakusa should understand him, he thought.
And Sakusa did, his cold eyes turning a bit softer.
“Is there anything we could do to change your mind?”
Atsumu shook his head, the smile still on his face, passing Sakusa by to get back to work.
“I’m afraid it’s too late for that, Omi.”
Days have passed. The team continued tormenting him every Friday, but when Atsumu went to take a break outside, Sakusa left along with him, as if waiting for an opportunity to spend time with the blonde. Once, Sakusa offered to buy Atsumu a coffee during the weekend. After that, they met more often and quickly became friends. The topic of volleyball somehow never appeared - instead, they talked about other things. Sakusa told Atsumu about his life in college, Atsumu shared his experiences with working the weirdest jobs after high school.
Somehow, Sakusa started brightening Atsumu’s life, just like volleyball did in the past. It was nice. It was comforting.
He missed it.
During one of their meetings, Sakusa surprised Atsumu with something that made all of these feelings abruptly stop.
“Omi-kun, what is that?”
“A ticket to our match.”
Sakusa slid the colorful paper across the table, closer to Atsumu’s hand.
“It’s a VIP. One of the best seats in the whole stadium. If you don’t feel comfortable coming, you can sell it for a good price on the internet.”
Atsumu didn’t want to come. He hadn’t watched a professional volleyball game since the Olympics in 2016. He could feel the wounds from the past opening at the sole thought of being there, at the one place that could make so many memories resurface.
But as he saw the hopeful glint in Sakusa’s eyes, he decided to try.
The stadium was packed. Atsumu’s seat was indeed one of the best - he had a perfect view on the whole court. People were screaming in excitement, the teams’ mascots entertaining everyone until the match began.
And once it was about to and all the players arrived, Atsumu watched. Atsumu caught Sakusa’s gaze as the spiker took his place with the rest of the MSBY. Sakusa nodded at him - he didn’t know if it was in a greeting or in approval of his presence.
The match began and Atsumu felt like everything he hid away years ago came back to him like a storm. He observed Bokuto’s powerful spikes, Hinata’s speed and perfect reflexes. Sakusa’s wrists making the ball spin so nastily he snagged three service aces, winning MSBY the first set.
Atsumu watched them fight, analyzed their plays like never before, felt the phantom pain of a jump serve one of the players made.
This was his life. This was his everything. The tosses, the rallies, the calls of the spikers for the ball-
It felt like coming home.
The realisation made Atsumu tense up, digging his hands harshly into the material of his jeans as he felt his eyes burn with tears.
As the third set ended, Sakusa’s eyes roamed the stadium, searching.
But who he wanted to see was already gone.
This day, Atsumu returned to the apartment with red rimmed eyes and a bottle of cheap sake in his grasp. Once Ginjima found him crying over the toilet in their bathroom and asked what’s wrong, Atsumu couldn’t choke out anything, but whimpers.
His love was still there, in a shape of the ball, two hands and the court smelling of salonpas and sweat.
His love was volleyball and Atsumu was too much of a coward to try to reach it.
The next time he met with Sakusa, Atsumu shortly apologised for leaving, explaining how much it hurt to watch all of them enjoy this one thing he couldn’t anymore.
Sakusa, as always, understood.
As Sakusa watched his friend, the bags under his eyes, the lifeless atmosphere around Atsumu as he gazed to the side while sipping on his coffee, Sakusa thought.
Perhaps he rushed this too much.
Well, Sakusa never left anything unfinished. They’ll just have to take smaller steps.
So they started with words.
At first, when Sakusa started talking about training with MSBY, Atsumu snapped at him and left. Not an hour later, Sakusa got a call with sniffling Atsumu on the line, apologizing for yelling at him.
Sakusa wasn’t deterred however and tried again. And again. Each time, Atsumu would get angry, snapping, hastily drinking his coffee to leave earlier.
But time is the best solution to healing wounds. Gradually, Atsumu stayed longer, didn’t fume as often over the topic of volleyball, until they returned to the routine from before.
Sakusa told Atsumu about dumb things Bokuto and Hinata did at practice, and Atsumu smiled.
Sakusa described the utter horror that was drunk Inunaki clinging to him one day when they were returning from the izakaya Atsumu worked at, and Atsumu laughed.
Sakusa explained the feeling of pride he felt when they won against the Adlers a few months ago, and Atsumu beamed, congratulating his team.
Until finally, it was Atsumu who began speaking.
Atsumu admitted Osamu’s leave was what destroyed his love towards the sport. How because of that, he and his brother fell apart.
Atsumu confessed how he worked countless jobs, easy and difficult, to find the same thrill volleyball gave him, but remained unsuccessful.
Atsumu teared up telling Sakusa about all the trophies he kept hidden in the furthest corner of his closet, not having enough strength to throw them out.
Through it all, Sakusa understood everything.
Atsumu felt like he could finally breathe.
The next thing they tried was watching high school games.
For the first time Sakusa sat right next to Atsumu, propping a tablet on the table, as a waitress brought their drinks.
“My old coach sent me recent Itachiyama games. Care to watch them with me?”
Atsumu was reluctant, but there was no harm, right? He didn’t know these players. They were still teenagers, prone to make stupid mistakes.
So they watched one game. Next time they met up, they watched another. This step went easier than the previous one, as their annual meetings in a cafe turned into Atsumu invading Sakusa’s apartment before he had to go to work. Atsumu made them dinner as Sakusa prepared another game to play on his tv.
Recent games turned into older ones, until Atsumu made a surprising demand.
“Let’s watch our match from Interhigh. Second year of high school.”
And so they did, watching younger Atsumu toss the ball to Osamu. To Ginjima and Suna. To his senpai.
As the second set was about to start, Sakusa heard hiccups coming from his friend. When he turned his head, Atsumu’s eyes were still glued to the screen, tears and snot dripping down his face.
“I was so happy back then, Omi.”
Atsumu’s gaze fell on Sakusa, broken and longing, as the whistle sounded and younger Sakusa was ready to serve.
“Why can’t I be happy anymore?”
For the first time, Sakusa hugged Atsumu tightly, letting the blonde cry on his shoulder as the game played in the background. He didn’t feel the disgust of Atsumu touching him, dirtying his shirt with bodily fluids.
Sakusa didn’t live through the same struggles as Atsumu. He never left volleyball.
But he understood.
Sakusa knew the love for the sport and how powerful it was. He could imagine how much Atsumu was hurting.
He wanted to fix it.
So, a few weeks later, Sakusa decided to take the final step.
“Miya, toss to me.”
Atsumu almost spewed out his drink, turning towards Sakusa with wide eyes as they watched another high school game.
“Wha-huh?”
Sakusa rolled his eyes, speaking louder. “Toss to me. Come to MSBY’s gym after we finish practice.”
“Omi, yer insane, no!”
So, next time they met up, he tried again.
“No.”
And again.
“Give it a break, Omi-kun, I ain’t tossin’ to ya.”
But it was working. With every time Sakusa asked, Atsumu took more time to answer, slowly beginning to think the proposition over.
One Friday evening by the walls of the izakaya, Sakusa asked again and Atsumu finally answered, letting the smoke from his cigarette flow out of his lungs.
“Yer really stubborn, ain’tcha, Omi-kun? Alright, I’ll come to yer stupid practice and toss to ya. Once.”
Better this than nothing. They planned the date, Sakusa promised to make sure none of his teammates stayed behind. Atsumu thought it’s going to be fine. He would give Sakusa his toss and forget about the whole ordeal.
But when the day finally came, Atsumu was nervous. He couldn’t stomach anything, constantly paced his room. Regret started seeping into his body.
Why did he agree to do this?
When Atsumu arrived at the gym, Sakusa was waiting for him by the entrance, still wearing his practice clothes. He led him inside, giving Atsumu a short tour of the place, until they arrived at the court.
Atsumu took in everything. The smell, the freshly cleaned floors, the volleyball cart standing not so far from them, the net ready for the game.
“Omi-kun, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“You promised me one toss. No backing down now, Miya.”
Atsumu changed his shoes to some old sneakers he found in his apartment - his volleyball ones from high school no longer fit. When Atsumu walked to the centre of the court, Sakusa lifted an eyebrow in question.
“Why aren’t you warming up?”
Atsumu simply scoffed, putting his hands on his hips.
“I don’t need to warm up for one pathetic toss, Omi.”
Sakusa sighed, throwing the ball towards Atsumu.
“At least remind yourself how to play.”
Muscle memory instantly clicked in his Atsumu’s body and he lifted his arms, bumping the ball back towards Sakusa.
It was so sloppy Atsumu couldn’t help, but wince.
This was a very bad idea.
Sakusa wasn’t deterred however and ran up towards the ball, bumping it with ease.
“Again, Miya.”
As the exchange continued, Atsumu felt more and more confident. Playing in jeans wasn’t comfortable, but he managed, getting the ball back to Sakusa.
Atsumu’s heart beat wildly, about to burst from emotions.
He missed this.
As Sakusa returned the ball to him with a beautiful, high curve, it was like Atsumu was back in high school, hearing the crowd roar as his spikers ran to him.
His body worked on autopilot, lowering himself for a perfect, overhand toss.
“Omi-kun!”
Sakusa was there, already running, jumping, his arm prepared for the hit.
And just like in the past, Atsumu delivered.
The ball hit the other side of the court with a powerful smack, echoing throughout the room.
Atsumu turned towards Sakusa as the spiker landed on his feet.
“That was a bit too low.”
Atsumu couldn’t help, but snort.
“Fuck off, Omi, I haven’t played in 4 years-”
“But.”
Sakusa’s eyes met with Atsumu’s, full of affection and pride.
“It was good.”
Atsumu looked down at his hands. Clenched his fingers repeatedly, already missing the feeling of ball between them.
Atsumu raised his head towards Sakusa, the one person who understood him the best through this painful journey.
Love.
“Hey, Omi.”
Back in high school, Atsumu found love in volleyball. Through all these years, it was the one feeling he was missing. He knew he would never be a professional player again, it was too late for that. His moves were sloppy, his tosses not good enough.
But as he gazed at Sakusa’s eyes, focused on Atsumu in a silent question, he realised he didn’t need that anymore.
For there was someone else who gave him the chance to chase after love again.
“Can I toss to ya again?”