Chapter Text
They have some interesting first years.
Koushi is staring. The seven first years are a really odd bunch. He’s pretty sure the rest of the team is staring too. When Shimizu gave them the application forms and Kurokawa went through them, Koushi was surprised to hear the best libero in the prefecture was coming to them - a school with little to no reputation left. Along with that, a pair of twins who seemed to be newcomers, nothing written to explain their previous experience. A setter and opposite hitter pair.
Koushi had been too busy being excited at having a junior setter to realize how odd it is to have a setter and opposite pair coming into high school with apparently no experience.
Now he sees them, he’s starting to think that was a mistake.
Ennoshita and Kinoshita seem pretty solid and normal. Narita has a shaved head but seems normal otherwise. Nishinoya is kinda small even for a libero but full of energy and grinning madly. He has a presence about him but doesn’t demand attention. Tanaka is blond and loud. Very delinquent in the making. He’s not tall or well built, but he has confidence. He does demand attention. Loudly. And, well, he’s already proposed to Shimizu too, so at least he’ll fit right in on that front.
And then the Miya twins. They must be pushing Asahi’s height already, with athletic bodies and cold eyes. And absolutely identical. Koushi has no idea which is Atsumu and which is Osamu. The only time they’d looked mildly interested was when Kurokawa mentioned Nishinoya’s awards. Koushi recognises the flash of competitiveness in their eyes. New players or not, they want to win.
One of them is their new junior setter.
“Twins,” Kurokawa says, not even trying to pick which is which. “You’re beginners?”
“It was easier to leave it blank than try to explain,” one says.
“We’ve got plenty of experience,” the other says.
Koushi blinks and glances at Daichi and Asahi. They’re staring too. The twins have got pretty thick accents. They’re not from Miyagi, that’s for sure. That’ll draw attention too. It’s certainly got Tanaka’s attention. Or maybe that’s what they said rather than how.
“Huuuh, the country hick twins think they’re better than us, huh?” he growls.
“We know we’re better than ya,” one says.
The other nods. “And no one wants to be called a country hick by some loud blond dolt from bumfuck nowhere.”
“We’re from Kobe not some farming commune, ya ignorant fuck.”
Kobe? That’s in Hyogo, right? That explains the accents. There’s some really good schools out there. Koushi wonders how they ended up here. Not just Karasuno but Miyagi. It must be very different going from a big city like Kobe to a small mountain town like Karasuno. Although, he’s not sure where they live or how far they’re commuting.
“So you’re city boys,” Tanaka sneers.
Yeah, they’re definitely going to be interesting.
“Ah!” Nishinoya yells. “That’s where I know you guys. You’re Yako Middle’s Miya Twins!”
Everyone turns to him as the twins pull faces.
“You know them, Nishinoya?” Ennoshita says.
“Dude, who doesn’t?!” he says, bouncing up and down. “I’ve been dying to get some serves of you and now you’re here, this is so cool. But you two disappeared last year! What happened?” He points over at one of the twins. “This guy got the best server at Nationals in his first and second years and then they vanished last year.”
Nationals? The twins have played at Nationals?
The mystery deepens.
“Alright,” Kurokawa says, picking up a ball. “Let’s have a look at what you can do then.” He tosses the ball over to the twins and one of them catches it. “Nishinoya, receive. Miya, serve. I assume it’s a jump serve to get awards.”
“It’s a jump float,” Nishinoya calls, sprinting off to the other end of the court.
The twin steps back from the end line and bounces the ball a few times as Nishinoya drops into a defensive stance. Koushi frowns, watching him curiously. Is he the setter or the opposite twin? Either way, it’s pretty intimidating to know that who he’d been thinking of all week as his new junior setter probably has more experience in official matches and higher levels than Koushi. He’s not the junior setter around here.
Koushi has seen a lot of high level serves. He’s got to watch Oikawa’s serve from the side lines after they’d been knocked out last year. He’s seen Date Tech’s intense serves. Even Kurokawa’s serve is pretty high level. The twin’s serve is not a jump float. It slams down hard and Nishinoya jerks aside, calling it out. And it is. It’s definitely out but the speed and power is incredible. It’s basically a spike. It rivals Oikawa’s serve, at least from what Koushi’s seen. He doubts he would have been able to pass it if it was in.
The new first years seem pretty impressed - although Tanaka seems to have taken it as a sign for rivalry and competitiveness. The twin serving looks furious though.
“Lame,” the twin on the side lines says flatly.
“Shut yer trap, ‘Samu,” he snarls.
“That’s going to be nasty when he gets control of it,” Kurokawa says. He raises his voice and the twin - Atsumu, probably? - picks up the ball again. “Now the jump float.”
Atsumu steps back from the end line again. This time it is a jump float serve. It flies across the court way quicker than any float serve Koushi has ever seen. It’s right in front of Nishinoya’s face before he can think. Nishinoya yelps and jerks aside to avoid being smacked in the face and the ball drops right behind him, just inside the end line.
Kurokawa lifts his head to the other twin. “Can you jump serve too?”
“I can,” he replies.
“Show me.”
Atsumu tosses the ball to his twin and Osamu approaches the end line in his place. Nishinoya gets back into position and Osamu steps back slowly. He stands there silently. He just stands there. It’s probably not the full eight seconds but it feels like entire minutes before he finally serves. Osamu’s jump serve is just as intense as his brother's, only his is definitely in and aimed right at the far corner of the court. Nishinoya manages to get it. It’s a messy pass, but it’s up. Koushi’s pretty sure he wouldn’t have got that up. Daichi might have and maybe some of the third years. They’re incredible serves for first years.
“Setter and opposite,” Kurokawa says. They nod. “Interesting. We’ll play a three on three. Nishinoya, sit out since you’re a libero. Twins and Kinoshita. Tanka, Ennoshita and Narita.”
“What’s so interesting about them?” Hanasaki, their third year setter, says.
“Their eyes are like Udai’s,” he replies.
The other two third years consider the twins before letting out a quiet, “oh.”
Koushi doesn’t know who Udai is but he feels the starting setter position slipping through his fingers like water as he watches the twins. Both twins can set, he thinks. It’s hard to tell them apart when moving on the court. Both of them are better setters than him - and probably Hanasaki. And incredible hitters. And they start to accommodate Kinoshita within only a few sets. Koushi doesn’t know if the others can see it, but as a setter, he can.
Those sets are incredible.
The twins are incredible.
Atsumu is incredible.
Atsumu is also kind of a jerk.
A lot of a jerk, actually.
“Oi, city boy,” Tanaka snarls a few weeks into practice. He grabs the front of Atsumu’s shirt - Kurokawa forced the twins into different coloured bibs early on, sick of complaints about people mistaking them - and jerks him down to eye level. “Are you planning to set me any time soon or am I just here to decorate the court, huh?!”
Atsumu sneers back. “Funny, I thoughtcha had a problem with my sets, so I didn’t wanna bother ya with ‘em.”
“Huuuh?!” he growls, shaking Atsumu but this time Atsumu grabs his wrist and yanks him off. “What’s your problem, you bastard?!”
“I don’t waste my sets on idiots who think spiking means only smashin’ the ball as hard as he can,” he snaps, shoving at Tanaka’s shoulders.
“Hey now,” Asahi says, trying to get between them. “Let’s not-”
“You think you can get all snotty just because you got a few awards?!” Tanaka yells. Asahi grabs him as he lunges for Atsumu, and Ennoshita and Nishinoya have to put all their weight against Atsumu to hold him back. “You’re just another arrogant setter who thinks it’s all about you! Volleyball’s a team sport!”
“So I’m supposed to set to some punk who thinks brute force matters more than technique?!” Atsumu yells back. “Like hell I am! If yer not gonna make the most of my sets why should I bother to give ‘em to ya?!”
“If you’re so damn good why are you slumming it with us, huh?!” He jerks against Asahi again and Daichi grabs him as well. “You think you’re so damn fantastic but you’re here with us losers in some no name school, right?! Why ain’t you at Shiratorizawa getting your guaranteed pass to Nationals if you’re so great?! Sorry we’re not national aces like Ushiwaka here!”
Atsumu goes still and Koushi swallows thickly. Suddenly the air is heavy and cold. Something’s just gone very wrong.
Surprisingly, it’s Osamu who steps in front of his brother and squares up to Tanaka. “You-”
“Enough!” Koushi snaps, chopping into both their sides right below the ribs. And both idiots double over wheezing for breath. “We’re not having this negativity.”
“Thank you, Sugawara,” Kurokawa says. He gestures to Atsumu. “You. What's your problem setting to Tanaka?”
“Why should I get good sets up to him when he’s just gonna smash it into a block?” Atsumu says.
Tanaka goes to lunge at him and but is forced back. Kurokawa sighs. “You, why are you just hitting the ball as hard as you can?”
“What else am I supposed to do?” Tanaka says. “I’m a spiker, aren’t I? I’m doing my job, he should do his.”
“But yer not,” Atsumu snarls.
“I understand,” Kurokawa says. The team stares at him like he’s said something weird. Koushi doesn’t get it either, but Kurokawa’s captain for a reason. “Tanaka, there is more to spiking than hitting the ball as hard as you can. Setters work hard to give us spikers sets which are easy for us to hit, it’s an insult to their hard work and trust to simply slam it down without thinking.”
Tanaka stiffens. “O-oh.”
“Miya. We’re not an elite school and many players come from teams that weren’t competitive. We aren’t going to be what you’re used to. You have to explain what you want before you get angry. If you refuse to set Tanaka without explaining why, he won’t ever improve.”
“...right…” Atsumu mutters, turning away. “We’ll try again, blondie.”
“What’s going on?” Daichi asks Kurokawa as the first years reset on their side of the court. “Why are they fighting?”
“Miya has a lot of pride as a setter,” Kurokawa says. “And he feels like Tanaka isn’t even trying.”
Koushi frowns. Tanaka has more enthusiasm and energy than any other hitter. He’s not sure who else could be trying harder, even if he’s not thinking about how to adjust to the situation. Why would Atsumu think Tanaka isn’t trying? Is he really so offended by Tanaka just hitting the ball as hard as possible?
This time, when Atsumu sets Tanaka, he manages a feint over the block. Atsumu huffs and turns away but doesn’t snap at him this time. Well, that’s progress.
The argument isn’t forgotten though. Tanaka is still fuming when they reach the clubroom. The twins barely wait around, just grab their bags and go. Koushi watches them go with a frown. Why are they at Karasuno rather than a school like Shiratorizawa or Aoba Johsai? They show no signs of being inspired by Karasuno’s trip to Nationals or similar. Why pick Karasuno when they’re obviously good enough to go anywhere in the prefecture?
“Who they hell does he think he is?” Tanaka growls, grabbing his bag from the shelf. “Acting so damn big. He needs someone to just smack him around a bit and deflate that damn ego of his. He thinks I’m not trying?!”
“He’s definitely prickly,” Ennoshita laughs, “but his sets are pretty great.”
“He’s passionate,” Kurokawa says. “That’s something you can’t teach people.”
“I don’t know why you’re all worried about Atsumu,” Narita says. “It’s Osamu that gets me. He looks right through you like you’re not worth his time when you screw up.”
“No, it’s definitely Atsumu yelling that bothers me,” Asahi says.
“They’re both arrogant assholes!” Tanaka yells.
“I like them,” Nishinoya declares.
“They don’t yell at you,” Koushi replies.
“You’re simple, Nishinoya,” Daichi sighs. “They practice serves with you, so of course you like them.”
Koushi frowns. Nishinoya had stomped up to the twins after the first practice and demanded they throw more serves at him for receiving practice, declaring that he was going to be able to pick up all their serves perfectly by the Inter High. He’d also, so graciously, said he’d allow spiking practice as well. The twins had looked at each other and had some kind of silent twin conversation before agreeing. Apparently they stayed an extra hour and a half before a teacher kicked them out.
Given how unfriendly the twins seemed to be, Koushi isn’t sure what to make of how they accept extra practice with Nishinoya whenever he asks. And Nishinoya reports there’s no yelling or arguments or issues with the twins. They didn’t seem like they were friends, but they definitely seemed to get along with him more than others. They respect Kurokawa at least, and have been wary of Koushi himself all practice since he smacked Osamu, but that’s about it.
Koushi has no idea why Tanaka and the twins don’t get along, if he’s honest. They’re really very similar. Especially Atsumu. Far too eager to get into fights. Unfortunately, it mostly seems to be with each other.
During their practice match just a week later, their last (and first, unfortunately) match before the Inter High, they’re a mess. They lose by quite a bit, but that’s not really surprising. They’re pretty messy right now, with a new team and no one really that confident. Well, the twins were perfectly confident when Kurokawa made the choice to let them come in as relief servers. Everything else was kind of a mess.
“That was disappointing.” Of course, they overhear the other team gossiping as they’re waiting for the third years to return from thanking the opposing captain. “You can hardly call it practice.”
“They weren’t much of a challenge.”
“Can you even call it practice?”
Tanaka growls. “I’m gonna go shut them up.”
“How?” Koushi laughs.
“They’re right,” Asahi sighs. “We’re not really at our best right now.”
“It’s easy,” Tanaka says. “You just gotta give them a bit of a smack. A gentle smack. Show them who’s boss.”
“Ya got a problem with other teams saying we suck, try sucking less,” Atsumu says, tipping his chin up.
Osamu tilts his head. “D’ya want other teams to play down and give ya a chance make ya feel better? Should we all applaud ya whenever ya hit the ball?”
“Playing with ya is embarrassin’,” he says, leaning down to Tanaka’s level. “Even more so when ya go and complain like they aren’t doin’ us a favour givin’ us a chance to improve while they’re gettin’ nothing from it.”
“He’s not wrong,” Asashi says with a tired smile. “We learn more playing better teams then weaker ones, but it doesn’t give them much to be playing us.”
“We just have to win,” Daichi says. The twins frown at him. “We just have to win and shut them up. It’s simple to say, much harder to do. But that’s just what has to be done.”
“You should get used to that sort of thing anyway,” Koushi says. “You’ll hear worse at official matches. They’ll say things, and you just have to keep walking. You just have to prove them wrong on the court.”
“Fallen champions. Flightless crows.”
Atsumu’s face twists into a silent snarl and Osamu’s jaw tenses visibly, eyes narrowed as he shoves his hands into his pockets.
Daichi’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes when he turns to the twins. He doesn’t have to say anything, they’re all thinking it - if anyone knows what it’s like to be a fallen champion with clipped wings, it’s the twins.
“We just have to win,” Daichi says as the third years return. “It’s that simple.”
It’s the Inter High Qualifiers that Koushi really understands how out of their league the twins are. How completely outclassed he is by Atsumu. How outclassed they all are by the twins. They’re struggling desperately in the second round, already a set down and with their opponents in the twenties.
Kurokawa makes a decision that Koushi in many ways knew was coming. They’re already losing, changing things up might not win them the game, but they have to try something. So he gestures to their supervising teacher and he calls to Atsumu. Koushi doesn’t need the pitying looks from the court as Atsumu switches for Hanasaki.
“Good luck,” he whispers.
“Don’t need it,” Atsumu replies, “but thanks, I guess.”
Atsumu steps onto the court full of confidence and radiating power. None of the nerves you’d expect from a first year playing in his first official match of high school. If anything, he looks annoyed to be even having to deal with this.
“You ok, Sugawara-san?” Tanaka says. “Really, letting that jerk on the court instead of you? What’s Kurokawa-san thinking?”
“He’s a good server,” Hanasaki says. “If he can help win the set, we can keep playing and we’ll all get more chances.”
If they win, no matter who’s on court, it gives them all more chances to play.
“Atsumu, nice serve!” Koushi calls.
Atsumu steps back off the endline before turning. Koushi swears Atsumu looks across the court like a predator looking at its prey. It shuts up the opposing team making comments about the inexperienced first year on court.
And then Atsumu slams a jump floater straight into the face of the opposing libero.
It leaves the cheering section in stunned silence for a moment. No one knows what to say. Koushi elbows Osamu to stop him snorting with laughter as Atsumu apologises with a respectful bow. The poor libero has a red mark on his forehead but is ok otherwise. At least physically. His pride’s probably a bit wounded. He doesn’t have the reflexes of Nishinoya, and even Nishinoya laughs that he did that once as Narita and Kinoshita rub their foreheads too. But, the look on Atsumu’s face when he turns back to the endline to serve again says that ball went exactly where he wanted it.
“Your brother’s nasty,” Koushi says quietly.
“I know,” Osamu replies.
This time, when the back row has stepped back to avoid another ball to the face, the serve drops short and no amount of diving saves it. A no touch service ace. The first of match! Everyone but Tanaka and Osamu are cheering for him now.
Atsumu gets another two points off the float serve before they finally get it up, although it’s a free ball for them. And Koushi sees Atsumu set. He gets it up to Asahi, slightly high and off the net. Asahi spikes perfectly but the wall goes up. They’re a good blocking team. It should take them to match point.
But Atsumu is under the block, practically on his knees, and gets the follow through. And a beautiful first touch back set up to Kurokawa’s back attack. It's then Koushi realizes that dread that’s been creeping up the back of his neck since he first saw Atsumu was right.
He really is amazing.
Koushi never stood a chance.
Atsumu stays in for the third set, much to their regular’s setter annoyance. There’s a palpable shift in the team’s energy with Atsumu setting. Like his confidence brings up the team’s confidence. His serves score points - just when they think they’ve got the hang of his jump floater, Atsumu suddenly switches to his jump serve - and towards the end of the set Osamu comes in and wracks up another few points. And they work so well together it's unreal.
Everyone can see it - the twins are a monstrous force of nature.
This is the level of players at Nationals.
Because of the Miyas - because Kurokawa and Asahi finally have a setter who can make the most of them - they move onto the third round.
And it’s there they slam up against Wakutani.
Atsumu starts the game but it’s not enough.
Osamu starts the second set and it’s not enough.
They lose in straight sets. It’s close. The deuce nearly into the thirties in the second set. But it’s not enough. And somehow, being so close kind of makes it hurt more. They just couldn’t quite push hard enough. Kurokawa slaps Atsumu’s back and mutters to line up, finally getting him to move from where he's been rooted to the spot since the ball hit the ground for the final time.
“The Spring Tournament,” Daichi tells Atsumu as they turn to thank the crowd. “We’ll go to Tokyo.”
Atsumu grits his teeth, face scrunched up in unbridled fury, growling about not wanting reassurance he hasn't earned, and Osamu’s jaw is tense, fists trembling at his side. They care. It’s not just competitiveness. They care so much it hurts. Koushi wishes he’d managed to play. Maybe he’d be more upset than just this familiar ache. It’s a little more intense than usual. He really thought they were getting somewhere. But then, he thought so last year too. Losing hurts worse when you think you might win, it seems.
He hates this pain but he wants to know what it’s like to win for real. Not just first and second round. He wants to win something meaningful. The semis. The finals. He wants to go to Nationals. Even if it’s more painful to lose the more you taste victory, those few victories, that belief and confidence, Koushi wants more. He wants to stand on the court and know he helped them win.
Even if that victory will lead him to the same agony the twins are wallowing in.
The same pain they’ve been in since they arrived.
The same pain that has Atsumu curled up in the back corner of the bus on the way home, alone and tense and sniffling quietly. Koushi glances back at them every now and again, to see Atsumu’s hands raking through his hair and shoulders shaking. He wants to say something but doesn’t think anything will help. And even if he knew the right words, Osamu is guarding him with a jaw so tight he might break his own teeth and wild eyes burning with cold the promise that anyone approaching will be met with fury and aggression.
Once again, Koushi wonders just why the twins are at Karasuno rather than an actual powerhouse school.
“Why’s he so upset?” Kinoshita says. “Third round isn’t so bad. That’s still top sixteen.”
“He played really well,” their third year middle says.
“The city boys are so used to playing on some super elite team they dunno how to deal with losing,” Tanaka growls.
“I don’t think that’s it,” Daichi says. “I think they just care a lot. Maybe more than any of us.”
“It hurts more to work hard and put your all into something and still come up short than to have never tried at all,” Kurokawa says. “Especially when it’s something you love.”
“If all they cared about was winning, they should have gone to a better school,” Hanasaki mutters.
“If all they cared about was winning, they would have,” Nishinoya says. They glance over at him. “They got accepted to Shiratorizawa.”
“They told you that?” Ennoshita says.
“No, they yelled it at each other,” he replies. “They were fighting. They fight a lot more when we’re practicing alone. I think they’re a lot more natural when we’re practicing alone.”
“They don’t trust us,” Asahi says.
“Why would they trust people who shy away from them?” Kurokawa says. He glances back at Daichi. “Make sure you face your team properly.”
Face them properly. The advice might have been meant for Daichi as their new captain but they stick with Koushi. So much so that when he sees the lights on in the gym and Osamu heading in with a plastic bag around his wrist when everyone else is heading home, he stops. No one wanted to practice after their defeat. They all just picked up their bags and left. Koushi would have too, but he realised he’d left a textbook in the clubroom and run to get it.
He should leave them to it, but Nishinoya and Kurokawa’s words are still bouncing around his head. The twins are a lot more natural when they’re practicing late. Why would they trust people who shy away from them?
Koushi steps up to the door and peeks inside. He won’t shy away from them any longer.
“I ran down to Sakanoshita,” Osamu says, sitting on the side lines. Atsumu is slamming down serve after serve even as Osamu digs into the bag for a drink. “It wasn’t yer fault we lost. The team just wasn’t good enough.”
Atsumu’s serve smacks down so hard it bounces off into the gallery above before he turns and snarls at Osamu. “That’s all ya’ve got to say?!”
“D’ya want me to tell ya it’s yer fault?” he replies. Atsumu’s face twists in rage. “Or d’ya hate me confirming whatcha already know?
“Don’t,” Atsumu snaps.
“Ya should have accepted Inarizaki’s invitation.”
“Shut up.”
“Ya could be setting for Aran-kun.”
“Shut up!”
“Ya could be going to Nationals again!”
“SHUT UP!” Atsumu grabs Osamu by the collar and yanks him up to face him, shaking him furiously. “Just shut up about that shit! Ya don’t understand anything!”
“Like hell I don’t!” Osamu yells back. It’s the first time Koushi has ever heard Osamu raise his voice properly. It’s just as terrifying as Atsumu’s snarling yells. “Yer punishing yerself by crushin' yer own damn dreams ‘cause ya think it’s yer fault! I don’t need ya using me as an way to torture yerself! Ya think I don’t feel bad enough ya turned down Inarizaki ‘cause of me?!”
“Ya don’t get to lecture me on turning down schools when yer here too! Ya could have gone to Shiratorizawa!”
“And letcha destroy yerself over guilt ya shouldn’t even feel?!” He sighs and forces Atsumu’s firsts off his collar, shoulders slumping in defeat. “We’re in this together, idiot. Like always.”
“Yer here ‘cause of me!”
“And yer here ‘cause of me too. So we’re even.”
Atsumu’s shaking and Koushi thinks he can see tears shining in his eyes again as Osamu sighs. This feels like more than just an argument over volleyball and schools. He squeezes Atsumu’s wrists and Koushi opens the gym doors a little further so he can step inside. It feels like he’s intruding on something private and painful, but the twins are his teammates and juniors. They need support.
“It wasn’t yer fault, ‘Tsumu.”
Whatever dams have been holding Atsumu together break just like that. He crumples to the ground with an agonized, tormented wail. All the pain of loss and guilt and loneliness comes out all at once. He curls up into himself, body wracked with painful sobs. And Osamu just lets him have his moment of catharsis. Even when his twin is obviously hurting so much, he just stands there watching. Koushi doesn’t know if he just wants to give him space or doesn’t know how to help but he can’t take it.
Koushi drops his bag with a thud and Osamu jerks around to stare at him. He goes to step in front of his brother protectively, but Koushi pushes him aside and kneels in front of Atsumu. Without even thinking, he wraps Atsumu in his arms.
“It’s ok,” Koushi whispers. “You’re ok.”
Atsumu shoves at his chest but Koushi pulls him back into his shoulder. “Don’t-”
“It’s ok,” he says again, stroking Atsumu’s hair. “I’m not going to ask you what’s wrong or what’s going on. You don’t have to explain anything. But if you need to cry or vent or just let it all out, I’m here and I won’t judge you and I won’t tell anyone, understand? I’m here, Atsumu-kun.”
Atsumu lets out a shuddering breath that turns into a choked sob. And then he just sinks into Koushi completely. Koushi sighs and wraps his arms tighter around him, stroking his hair gently until he settles. He can piece bits of the situation together - Atsumu had been offered a spot at a school Osamu hadn’t. Atsumu put being with Osamu above his own dreams of Nationals, either out of guilt over something or simple loyalty to his brother. And, of course, that must be a massive strain on Osamu too. No wonder they're always so tense.
“Ok,” Atsumu says at last, pushing Koushi off with a sniffle. “Thanks.” He stands slowly and Koushi pushes off the floor. “I’m ok now. I’m ok.”
“Thanks, I guess, Sugawara-san,” Osamu says as Atsumu goes to collect the balls. Koushi nods. “We didn’t mean to keep ya late.”
“It’s fine,” Koushi says. “I’m your senpai, after all. And, actually, I wanted to talk to you.”
“Talk to us?” Atsumu says. His voice is so hoarse and raw. “Why?”
“Umm…” He sighs and lowers his head. “You’ll be starting setter for the Spring Tournament. Daichi will start you on merit rather than any favoritism.”
“He should. I’m a better setter than ya.” Osamu shoots him a look and Koushi smiles bitterly. “What? D’ya want me to act like I’m not just to spare his feelings just because he was nice to me? Y’know I don’t do that shit. I’m grateful an’ all but that ain’t gonna improve his volleyball.”
“You’re right, you shouldn’t,” Koushi says. Atsumu frowns at him. “I want to win. And I want to play. The more we win, the more chances there are for me to play. So, if you’re the best chance we have to keep winning, you have to be the choice we make.”
“Nice of ya to see sense,” he says.
“But that doesn’t mean I’m just going to sit here and accept that you’ll win for us!” Koushi tells them. “I’m not going to just accept that I’m a reserve and be happy with that. So…” He clenches his jaw and lifts his head to Atsumu’s gaze. “I’m not talented in body or ability but I’m a setter and I have my own pride, so, please, let me practice with you.”
Atsumu glares down at him and for a moment Koushi thinks he’s about to be harshly rejected. But finally, Atsumu sighs and picks up a ball. Osamus slumps next to the bags again, taking out a bar of chocolate.
“Ya don’t know how to feel the ball,” Atsumu says.
“Feel the ball?” Koushi says.
“Y’know, ya don’t… have a sense for it and where it is all the time and how it moves,” he says. “What sorta drills d’ya do at home?”
“I don’t have a ball at home.” Atsumu gives him a glare. “I’ll get one.”
“Yer not a bad setter.”
“I’m not?”
“Yer dedicated to yer hitters, that’s obvious to anyone with eyes. Ya put love and effort into yer sets, into consistency and understanding what yer hitters like and what they perform best with.”
“Is that what’s important to setting?” Koushi says.
Atsumu actually laughs. Koushi blinks. He thinks that’s the first time he’s heard Atsumu laugh - or at least not in that mean way he laughs at Osamu or Tanaka when they mess up. It’s nice. And his face softens from that nasty scowl he’s been wearing since he arrived. Apparently setting and volleyball really is what’s most important to Atsumu. So important it’ll overcome any worries. And finally Koushi feels like he’s getting somewhere with the twins.
“What'd’ya think the most important thing in setting is then, Sugawara-san?” Atsumu says.
Koushi frowns. “Being able to set fast and difficult sets. That set yesterday from the block-”
“Outcome,” Osamu says. “Sets like those are the symptom, not the cause.”
“No one would do a ridiculous set like that if they weren’t dedicated to their hitters,” Atsumu says. And he admits they’re ridiculous just like that? “Ya can have all the talent ya like, it doesn’t mean a thing if ya’ve not got the right mindset. Ya can’t get by on talent or an athletic body alone.”
And suddenly Koushi realizes how right Kurokawa was. Atsumu has so much pride as a setter.
“Why’re ya a setter, Sugawara-san?” Atsumu says. “What’s the core belief you hold onto when yer setting?”
“Because I want to support my teammates,” Koushi replies without thinking for a moment. “I want them to be able to rely on me.” Atsumu grins. “What about you, Atsumu-kun?”
“‘I’ll help ya get the ball over’.” Koushi tilts his head. “We had a former All Japan setter teach our volleyball class as kids. That’s what he said the first time we ever lined up to spike. And not one of us missed. That’s the core of my setting.”
And just like that, Koushi thinks he understands Atsumu so much better. He understands him setter to setter. Atsumu’s pride as a setter is the same as Koushi’s; supporting their teammates as best they can. And it seems not just sitting back and accepting his position as just as reserve has warmed Atsumu to him somehow. He pulls him onto the court and throws him the ball, then takes his own to show him drills.
Atsumu practices with Koushi for the better part of an hour. And over that hour, Koushi thinks he gets closer and closer to understanding Atsumu as a person, not just a setter. Atsumu’s pride is doing his best for his hitters. He gets frustrated when his hitters don’t give him the same respect. The twins never fought with Nishinoya when he demanded they stayed to help him practice because they’re fighting to improve together. Nishinoya won’t just accept this is his lot in life, to be an amazing libero at a school whose reputation is so tattered and muddied that they struggle to even get practice matches. And because Koushi declared he wouldn’t just accept his position and would keep fighting, Atsumu has started to see him the same way.
It’s so simple: Atsumu respects effort.
“Our parents died,” Osamu says plainly while Atsumu is getting drinks from a vending machine on the way home. Koushi’s head jerks up and he glances over. “That’s why we left Kobe.”
“I’m sorry,” Koushi says.
“Don’t be,” he says. Atsumu is coming back over with their drinks. “Don’t mention it. He’s sensitive about it still. Just keep fighting to get better. He’ll appreciate that. Another setter to work with. He's always wanted a setter friend who isn't afraid of him.”
“What are the two of ya gossipin’ ‘bout?” Atsumu says as he joins them.
“I was going to ask you to teach me your jump float,” Koushi replies. Atsumu blinks at him and Koushi grins. “I don’t think I have the power to do a decent spike serve, but jump floats don’t need so much, do they? They can be dangerous without. I have to play to my strengths.”
Atsumu grins. “Sure, I’ll teach ya. I’m not a great teacher though.”
“I’m amazed ya actually realize that,” Osamu says.
“Yer no better, ‘Samu!” he snaps.
“Are you two coming with us to see the Inter Middle?” Koushi says before they can start bickering. They frown at him. “Some of us are going to the Inter Middle Qualifiers next weekend. To have a look at some of the third years; see who might join us, who we might go against next year. Do you two want to come?”
Atsumu pouts thoughtfully - a look Koushi has never seen on him before - then glances at Osamu, who shrugs. “We’ll think about it.”
“Ok,” he says with a grin. “Let me know on Monday. I’ll give you the details.”
The Miyas don’t really chat. They just walk in pretty much silence, drinking their sports drinks as they go and letting Koushi do most of the talking. He’s not really sure what he talks about. Just anything that comes to mind - how timid Asahi is, what trouble Nishinoya has been getting into, the troubles they had with the club at the start last year. The twins nod along and barely talk. Atsumu replies every now and again but Osamu is almost silent. But it does feel like they’ve made some progress.
Koushi waves as the twins head their own way. He shifts his bag over his shoulder and considers the situation and how quickly he can get a volleyball at home. Kurokawa and the other third years will probably tell them they’re leaving the club next practice. Daichi will take over and Atsumu will become setter. He wonders absently what they’ll do with Osamu. He’s a good hitter but Daichi plays opposite too.
He hums to himself, trying not to think too hard on the details about the Miyas and their parents. They don’t know each other well enough for him to offer them much support and they don’t seem like the type who’d appreciate him trying to pry. Maybe he can at least get them to feel more like part of the team. Even if they can’t promise to get the Miyas back to Nationals, Koushi thinks he can promise them a good team while they try.