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Atsumu had been wrong, very wrong. He takes back his words. Hinata Shouyou shoves his words right back down his throat. Hinata Shouyou isn’t a scrub.
Hinata Shouyou shines so bright Atsumu can’t take his eyes off him, flies so high hot floods of jealousy course through him when he sees Kageyama Tobio’s smug face glaring down at him from across the net after a particularly long rally Shouyou had sealed with a point for Karasuno. In no way is Hinata Shouyou a scrub.
Hinata Shouyou is a monster, is what the spectators in the stands say. But Atsumu has never been fond of that nickname, whispered behind his own back all his life too. So, he settles for the sun. Because when Shouyou runs across the court, face split into a blinding smile, calling for another toss, that is exactly what he looks like. And when he jumps, higher than all the giants around him, he is definitely the sun, he is all you can look at. Everyone in the Tokyo Metropolitan Gymnasium on that day would agree.
The commentators can go off about Kageyama Tobio’s genius all they want, and every nameless volleyball player behind him can whisper how Shouyou isn’t the shit without Tobio by his side, but Atsumu knows, it is Tobio who is wrapped around the little spitfire’s fingers. He suspects Tobio knows it too. Shouyou doesn’t, not yet. Atsumu promises himself he’ll make sure Shouyou does.
The entire arena stills when Atsumu and Osamu pull off Karasuno’s famed freak quick. Atsumu can already see Kita’s face sketched with equal parts exasperation and awe on the sidelines, and the Inarizaki marching band breaks out in a triumphant roar. Atsumu looks across the net, Hinata Shouyou is staring right at them, his face flush, his eyes hungry. Atsumu stares straight back at him.
You don’t need Tobio. I can get you the ball too.
But Shouyou can’t read him yet, not the way Osamu can. And he guesses Shouyou is somewhat of an oblivious klutz, because he doesn’t notice his blatant staring. Osamu does, and lends his twin a disgusted once over. Tobio does too, and one could single out the green specks of jealousy that cloud his storm blue eyes if they looked hard enough.
But Shouyou remains unaware of the sentiments he brews in the people around him, and Atsumu’s words never get through, and so the match goes on.
Years later, Atsumu will send tosses that tell Shouyou he loves him, and Shouyou will spike them across the court and tell him he loves him back. They will learn to read each other in sweaty practice matches in Osaka and each other’s beds. They will forget the shadows of a twin and a first love that threaten to haunt them forever. They will find each other. But that is still a long time away, and Atsumu and Shouyou still have many more stories to live through in the meantime.
In the present, Shouyou zips across the court like he has transcended the limits of human abilities, and his own, and he calls for another toss, his wide gummy smile pulling his team through the exhaustion of three sets. He’s moving like this match is all that has ever mattered to him, and Atsumu finally understands Osamu’s earlier words.
Hinata Shouyou is hungry for volleyball, and hungry for victory, and he sparks hunger in anyone who dares look at him.
Atsumu would give him everything, he thinks, every toss he calls for. Because Shouyou gives his everything every second he is on court.
I’m moved, Shouyou-kun.
Inarizaki lose, and yet Atsumu’s muscles burn with a joy that dilutes the bitter taste of defeat- the joy of a well-played match. The joy of watching a boy fly higher than he ever has, and the hunger to make him fly even higher himself.
He greets Tobio as they’re shaking hands. And then he calls out to the boy he won’t be able to stop thinking about for months, the boy he’ll pine for until he comes back with tan lines from halfway across the world and learns to love him back too.
“Shouyou-kun.”
Shouyou looks back, and Atsumu can tell that the exhaustion of the long match has finally settled into Shouyou’s bones. He’s swaying dangerously, his eyes hazed over, sweat matting his red hair onto his forehead. He still looks beautiful, Atsumu’s brain supplies, and he decides to store that thought away for future introspection, because it opens an entirely new can of worms he isn’t ready for yet.
“Yes?”
Atsumu wants Shouyou to know, know that he is special, that he has ignited something deep in the pits of Atsumu’s stomach, that Atsumu wants him to call for a toss from him too, that he doesn’t need Tobio, that Atsumu intends to stand by his side someday.
“I’m gonna be setting to you one day.”
Tobio is staring daggers at Atsumu, and Shouyou’s amber eyes are blown wide open, his mouth shaped into a little “o” as he takes in Atsumu’s words. What Atsumu doesn’t know is that Shouyou carves his words into his heart at that moment, and holds onto them, holds onto them for years to come, holds onto them in Karasuno’s tiny gym in Miyagi and in the next two nationals and in the sandy beaches of Brazil, holds onto them until Atsumu keeps his promise.
(And Atsumu does. He keeps his promise, and then some more. But that is a story for another day.)
Inarizaki walk out of the 2013 Spring High Nationals, eliminated after their first match of the tournament, by a team nobody’s heard of in a few years, Hinata Shouyou’s silhouette as he flew emblazoned on Atsumu’s pupils.
Atsumu won’t realize what the fluttering feeling in his stomach is until six months later, he won’t tell Shouyou about the things he does to Atsumu’s heart until seven years later, and he won’t fall asleep with Shouyou in his arms until eight more.
At this point in time, only Osamu has a slight inkling of what is to come, as he studies his brother pointing across the net, a look he has never seen on him before painted across his face. It might be some kind of twin telepathy, or Osamu might be the slightly smarter twin and Atsumu an oblivious idiot, but that’s for them to figure out.
Kageyama Tobio sees that look too, but pretends he doesn’t, because he knows with absolute certainty that he can find it on his own face every time he looks at Shouyou.
Two days later, when Shouyou falls, there is an ache in Atsumu’s heart he can’t quite explain, an ache he shouldn’t feel- not for someone he’s met two days ago, not when he’s been accused of feeling too little and hurting too much all through his 17-year life. But here is a boy who flies, a boy with red hair and amber eyes and a smile so bright Atsumu won’t be able to get it out of his head for months to come, and Atsumu almost feels the impact of the fall in his own limbs, and he doesn’t register yet, but he’s falling too, falling for Hinata Shouyou.
Karasuno do not show up to the Inter-High. Atsumu has caught on to his own feelings by now, and has chalked out an elaborate plan to get the tiny redhead’s number when he hears that Karasuno won’t be representing Miyagi, no, it is going to be yet another school they haven’t heard of, another Miyagi powerhouse. It makes Atsumu wonder, how many powerhouses does Miyagi even have?
Atsumu does, however, meet Kageyama Tobio again, at the Youth Camp preceding the Inter-High. He taunts the younger boy in usual fashion, because one, everyone calls him a jerk and sometimes he honestly feels like living up to it, and two, he often catches Tobio on his phone in the corridors in their free time, a fond smile on his typically scowling face, and Shouyou’s voice on the other end so loud it carries through the phone speakers and beyond. Yes, Atsumu is jealous. He hasn’t heard Shouyou’s bright voice in six whole months, and here is Kageyama Tobio, who sees Shouyou almost every day back home, talking to him even on the few days they have been separated, rubbing it in Atsumu’s face. Yes, Atsumu is very jealous.
Atsumu could ask Tobio for Shouyou’s number, perhaps, but the Osamu voice in his head calls him a scrub at the thought of not getting the number from Shouyou himself, and he kind of suspects Tobio would give him a wrong number.
Donning the jersey imprinted with “1” on his back, Atsumu leads Inarizaki to a good run at the Inter-High. But a part of him is always looking out for a blur of orange in the crowd, and looking at Date Tech bearing the placard for Miyagi leaves a sour taste in his mouth. Osamu notices the little things, always has. He decides not to comment on it.
Months pass, and Spring High comes around again. Karasuno will be there this time. On the ride to Tokyo, Atsumu tries not to let a giddy smile break out on his face at the prospect of seeing Shouyou after a year. He does not want to go through Sunarin’s teasing all over again; Osamu, being the wonderful brother he is, had told the bastard so that they could torment Atsumu together.
He sees Shouyou in the hall before the opening ceremony, Tobio looming behind him. Shouyou’s hair is longer, and it has been so long since Atsumu has seen his grin, and as he gets closer he notices for the first time that there are freckles across Shouyou’s nose and cheeks and his heart does somersaults at the discovery. Shouyou is pretty, absolutely pretty, Atsumu thinks. This time around, he does not urge the thought to go away.
Atsumu can only greet them before they are asked to line up for the ceremony, but Shouyou had remembered him, had called him “Atsumu-san”, and Atsumu’s name on Shouyou’s tongue had pretty much caused Atsumu to malfunction like the lovesick fool he is.
As they part ways, Tobio leaves a second early, and there is this one moment when it’s just him and Shouyou, and Shouyou and him, and Atsumu kind of wants it to be that way forever, but he has to leave too, so before Atsumu makes his own way back to his teammates, he shoots Shouyou a wink, because besides winning, Atsumu has another goal for this tournament, and he’s going to get closer to it, every chance he gets.
Shouyou’s face reddens at the gesture. Atsumu lets a satisfied chuckle rest on his lips at the view.
They play Karasuno on the third day, and Atsumu keeps another promise made a year ago.
“I’ll destroy you at the Inter-High.”
Atsumu had waited six more months, and here he was, victorious over Karasuno at the 2014 Spring High, his last high school tournament.
It had been a long and harrowing match, and Shouyou had been flying, once more, higher than he ever had, and Atsumu had reveled in the sight. But Atsumu kept his promises, as Shouyou learnt that day, and would learn again years later as he called for tosses from Atsumu and flew even higher, and thus Inarizaki had emerged triumphant, last year’s loss to Karasuno avenged.
When they shake hands, Shouyou still has tears running down his face, but he smiles at Atsumu, so warm.
“That was an amazing match, Atsumu-san!”
Atsumu feels his own smile of fresh victory widen even further at his words, of course Shouyou-kun would never be a sore loser, he thinks, and maybe he feels his heartstrings grow taut at Shouyou’s teary smile.
Atsumu wants to comfort Shouyou, as he walks out, sniffling, the entirety of Karasuno bearing similar expressions, but Osamu tackles him from behind, dragging him to greet Aran and Kita in the stands, and Atsumu watches Tobio move in beside Shouyou out of the corner of his eye, steadying Shouyou with a firm grip on his shoulder.
(In the future, running his hands through the shorter strands of Shouyou’s fluffy red hair on a fine Sunday morning, Atsumu will think that Shouyou’s first love will always have a part of him, even after all those years. But as Shouyou’s sleeping figure nuzzles into the warmth of his hand, Atsumu will tell himself- But I can always be his last.)
After they have changed out of their sweaty jerseys, Atsumu whispers into Osamu’s ear to look after the team for a bit, as he slips out. Suna, having noticed their exchange, shouts a snide “Best of luck, lover boy!”, much to Atsumu’s disdain.
He’s walking towards the room he knows Karasuno must be in when Shouyou walks out a washroom, drying his hands with a handkerchief that seems to have a very cute cat print on it. Atsumu brightens, he wouldn’t have to deal with the rest of Karasuno, and especially Kageyama Tobio, in his quest to get Shouyou alone for a while.
“Shouyou-kun!”, Atsumu calls out, and Shouyou turns around to look at him. His eyes are puffy, and rimmed red. He looks like a kicked puppy. Atsumu’s heart scolds him because he is kind of responsible for Shouyou’s state, but he snuffs out the thought. Volleyball is volleyball, and Shouyou isn't made out of glass.
“Atsumu-san?”, Shouyou peers at him with curious eyes.
“Can we talk?”
“Eh?”, Shouyou squeaks back, looking lowkey terrified. Atsumu’s heart sinks a little, why would Shouyou be afraid of him?
“I’m not going to eat you alive, ya know?”
Shouyou blushes at the statement, looking down, embarrassed. He rubs the back of his neck as he murmurs, “Most of my bathroom encounters don’t go down very well.”
Atsumu raises an eyebrow at that and is about to ask Shouyou to elaborate, because there are so many things about Shouyou he doesn’t know, and he wants to know, he wants to know it all. He wants to know his favorite color and his favorite food and how he looks when he wakes up and whether his hair is just as soft as it looks.
(Atsumu will, one day. He will know Shouyou like the back of his hand. He will know Shouyou like the lyrics to his favorite song.)
But the questions are lost as Shouyou moves towards Atsumu, and then they are walking, away from the crowds, and at one point Atsumu circles Shouyou’s wrist with his fingers and pulls him to a quiet hallway, and Shouyou yelps a little at the contact, but he does not protest. Atsumu’s mind is busy writing sonnets about how perfectly Shouyou’s hand fits in his.
Shouyou is standing against a wall, and they are all alone, and Atsumu had so many things to say, but with Shouyou right there before him, all cute and perfect and nervously fiddling with his fingers, his brain very helpfully short-circuits.
“Atsumu-san? What did you want to say?”, Shouyou finally breaks him out of his stupor, and oh god, Shouyou is blushing, and if that isn’t the prettiest thing Atsumu has ever seen he’ll be damned, so, before he can even process his thoughts he blurts out, “You’re really pretty.”
The red on Shouyou’s cheeks intensifies, and Atsumu realizes his own face must be as red as Shouyou’s hair because what the fuck, why did he not have a brain-to-mouth filter again?
Atsumu is definitely not as smooth as everyone makes him out to be.
“E-eh? Thank you”, Shouyou stutters, and brings Atsumu back from the screaming taking place in his head right then. Oh yes, plan. Atsumu had a plan, yes. He needs to get Shouyou’s number.
“Can I have yer number?”, Atsumu gently prods, holding out his phone.
Shouyou looks surprised, but he softly nods, taking hold of his phone. Atsumu is pretty sure Shouyou knows by now that this is absolutely not platonic, not if the crimson tint dusting his face is anything to go by, and Atsumu’s very abrupt compliment moments ago had very much given him away.
(“A very hot guy dragged me to a secluded hallway to ask for my number, of course I would wish it were not platonic, even as oblivious as I can be sometimes”, Shouyou will tell him years later, blushing again, when they look back at where it all began.)
As Shouyou types in his number, Atsumu rests one arm on the wall by his head, partly caging him in, and he’s so close he can count the freckles dotting Shouyou’s nose. He swears the position wasn’t intentional, but he sure isn’t complaining about it.
“I’m gonna be cheering for you tomorrow, Atsumu-san”, Shouyou quietly mutters, his eyes still stuck to the phone screen, and Atsumu almost chokes because Shouyou-kun, his Shouyou-kun is going to cheer him on?
But he schools his face into his characteristic smirk, because he wants Shouyou to think he’s cool and all that and not some fucking simp who melts every time Shouyou so much as glances at him, and says, “You better, we didn’t beat you for nothing.”
And then Shouyou giggles, all soft and a bit high-pitched, and Atsumu wants to hammer that sound into his skull so hard that he never forgets, because how the hell does even Shouyou’s giggle sound so fucking melodic and perfect?
Because you are a sappy scrub, the Osamu voice in his head retorts.
“I’d say we will beat you next time, but this is your last year, isn’t it?”, Shouyou is looking up at him, and his expression has a hint of a spark that will grow into a fire only when they are much older, but Atsumu bets everything on it.
“Don’t talk like I’m dying.”
And Shouyou is giggling again, and there is a rosy haze all around him, like in all the shoujo manga Sunarin likes to read somehow, and Atsumu is leaning in further, a hand reaching out to cradle Shouyou’s cheek, when they are interrupted by of course, who other than Kageyama Tobio.
(A few facts: Tobio is going to have Shouyou’s first kiss. But Atsumu is going to have every last one of them.)
Later, when Shouyou has gone back with Tobio in awkward silence after Atsumu gave the other setter a piece of his mind for crashing his little moment with Shouyou, he opens his phone to see Shouyou’s contact.
Shouyou (^_^), it reads. Atsumu breaks out into an involuntary smile at the cute emoticon.
And that is how the story begins.
A long time away, Shouyou hums in the kitchen of an apartment in Osaka as he makes morning coffee for two.
“Atsumu-san, you waited a long time for me, didn’t you?”
“I’d wait forever for you if I had to, Shouyou-kun”, Atsumu answers, sleepily sprawled out on the dining table.
Shouyou grins as bright as he did all those years ago.