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The twins were infamous for their near-daily fights; ranging from noisy bickering to shouting matches to full-on wrestling. It was almost always over something petty and small. Oftentimes, it was Atsumu provoking his brother until he finally snapped and engaged in the conflict. Otherwise, Osamu was known as the calm twin, the voice of reason — not that they were correct in that department. He was the one to smack Atsumu upside the head and tell him to get his act together and focus on their task. Really, though, it was Aran.
And this reputation extended to the Inarizaki Volleyball Club, for the most part. Out of the troublesome twins, Atsumu was still the rowdy one and Osamu was still the calm twin. The team really didn’t think there was ever a scenario where that dynamic would switch entirely.
Oh, how wrong they were.
Inarizaki was in the middle of the third practice match of the day with another team when shit blasted the fan. The other team’s ace had seemed increasingly more aggressive as each set wrapped up, targeting Atsumu more and more with his spikes, serves, and even a few receives with the risky attempts at sending it right back over — his captain had chewed him out for it, which only pissed him off more. And midway through the second set of the game, the ace managed to send one of his strongest spikes directly at Atsumu’s face.
And the ball slammed right into Atsumu’s nose.
It threw the boy straight back on his butt with a sharp yelp and a heavy, wet cough. A high groan was muffled by Atsumu’s hands as he curled in on himself. The game was slowing down as people realized the setter wasn’t getting back up. Most players on both teams were frozen as they watched something thick and red drip from the boy’s hands, practically turning into a small stream as he coughed again. Osamu’s body was cold as he stared with wide eyes at his twin.
Osamu quickly kicked himself into motion, rushing over and getting down on one knee in front of Atsumu. There was a kind of dazed look on Atsumu’s face as he tried to look around and process what the hell happened. Then, there was a little hiccup, and his brows were upturned in the middle as the pooling tears started to fall. At first, Osamu wanted to believe it was just the human body’s natural reaction to having the nose hit too hard. Except, Atsumu was curling up more, starting to shake and letting out a hoarse little whimper.
Atsumu was known to be a crybaby; tearing up at acts of kindness, exaggerating some weeping at Osamu’s petty insults, wailing when Osamu pinched his cheek for being a nuisance in the kitchen. However, he wasn’t one to cry for genuine pain, not in front of others.
There was a quiet scoff across the silent court and Osamu’s face snapped towards the noise.
The ace was barely holding back a smirk, poorly hidden smugness written all over his face as he looked on at the scene.
Fire erupted through Osamu’s veins as he jumped to his feet.
His stomps were loud and fast as he ducked under the net, going right up to the asshole. He grabbed the front of the guy’s jersey and got right in his face.
“What in god’s fuckin’ name is yer problem, ya numbnuts barbarian?!”
The shithead was sufficiently startled to see the quiet, reserved twin red in the face with the snarl of a pissed beast. But, he recovered after a second and scowled right back. “The dude was being an absolute asshole. It’s not my fault he’s a brat that needs to be taught his pla—”
Any remaining bullshit was cut off when Osamu shoved the boy’s chest, pulling up a leg and kicking the heel of his foot into his lower gut. There was a loud grunt as the ace fell to the ground, but it was cut off when Osamu dropped on top of him and started throwing down his fist again and again.
“I don’t give a flyin’ fuck if he called yer damn Ma a slutty ass whore and robbed yer ratty fuckin’ dog! No one touches my Tsumu! You ass eating, shitty hair, crusty nutsack lookin’ pig PRICK!”
Wide arms wrapped around Osamu from behind, yanking him back as he flailed and kicked at the fuckstick, still shouting profane insults that even made the referees blush. Aran managed to drag him far enough away that he couldn’t reach the guy, getting him face down on the floor and straddling his thighs. He pinned the seething boy’s arms behind his back.
“Samu, that’s enough! He’s down!” It took a second more of wrestling before Osamu quit trying to buck his best friend off to keep fighting.
Finally, Aran hauled him to his feet. “Yer brother needs ya. Get yer shit together and help him.” Before he let Osamu go, he jerked him closer and muttered, “And watch yer mouth. He’s yer twin on the court.” With that, Aran shoved him towards the group of medics over by the back corner of the gym.
Osamu rushed over, teammates moving out of his way. As he came closer, he heard that Atsumu’s nose thankfully wasn’t broken, but it would hurt like all hell for a good while. The medics let Osamu through and gathered their things, going to talk with the coaches. He knelt in front of the chair.
“Heard ya fucked him up.”
Osamu scowled, blood starting to boil again. “He fuckin’ deserved it—”
A warm hand ran through his hair. “Yeah. But I’m alright.” Atsumu was calm, soft voice a little nasally thanks to the bandage squeezing the bridge. The rich red and navy blue were already spreading out from beneath it. “Ma’s comin’ to get us. She’s pissed, too, so I told her to wait outside.”
Osamu’s face stayed scrunched up, but he shifted to get a little more comfortable, laying his bloody, bruising hands in his lap. The hand in his hair was soothing, and his Tsumu wasn’t crying anymore. That was good enough for now.
“Shoulda killed him,” he grumbled as he rested his head on a soft thigh.
His brother chuckled, “But then I wouldn’t have anyone to make me that chocolate coffee cake for breakfast. Or really remind me to eat breakfast at all. Or lunch. Or dinner. Really at all.”
“Yeah,” he sighed. “You’d starve the first day I left ya on yer own. Or burn the kitchen down tryin’ to cook. Maybe both.”
“Yeah.” After a moment more of petting and breathing, Atsumu shifted. “Can we go wait for Ma outside?”
That was when Osamu noticed all the staring and chatter around them. Goosebumps broke out over his skin as he nodded and pulled away to stand. He pulled Atsumu to his feet, putting a hand on his waist and chest to steady him when he groaned and stumbled a little. Aran was waiting nearby with their things, giving them a small, comforting smile. He helped Atsumu into his brother’s jacket. Atsumu held onto the hem of Osamu’s jersey as the other two talked.
“Text me as soon as y’all get home, ‘kay? Yer Ma’s gotta get to work pretty soon after ya get back, so I’m gonna come by later to cook and stuff.” The comforting smile took on a fond, teasing twist. “Since I know yer not gonna leave yer baby’s side for more than two minutes.”
The twins’ faces heated up a little, but Osamu nodded. “Alright, will do. Thanks.”
Finally, Osamu slung their bags over their shoulder and took Atsumu’s hand in his own, holding it tight as they walked out of the gym. Atsumu chattered on about a movie he wanted to see when they got settled at home. Osamu quietly listened and swung their hands between them.
Sure, Atsumu was the rowdy twin, and Osamu was the quiet twin. But, Osamu could turn just as feral when his baby was hurt, and Atsumu would always be there to soothe his guard dog.