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“Well yeah, but that’s obviously why-.” Atsumu opened the door to his family’s house and promptly shut it right behind him, back flat against the wood and a funny look on his face. At Osamu’s annoyed and confused expression, he said, “There’s somebody in there.”
Osamu snorted. “Is this another one a’ yer pranks? Where ya try to tell me the house is haunted?” He shoved Atsumu out of the way and opened the door. “Get outta the way, I’ll check.”
When he stepped through the doorway into their cramped genkan, he met eyes with an older, balding man sitting on their couch. He then stepped backwards and shut the door like Atsumu had and exchanged bewildered looks with his twin. “There’s somebody in there.”
Before Atsumu could get another word in, their mother elbowed them both out of the way with a huff. “What’s the point of raisin’ two sons if they can’t even open the door fer their mother?” she said shrewdly. She pushed the door open and glanced at the man her sons had seen, then away. “Oh look, the cheatin’ bastard’s back. Welcome home.”
She said this in a very flippant manner, as if this man was a frequent guest in their home and the twins were nothing but fools for being shocked by his unusual presence.
“Cheating ba-, Ma, who the hell is this guy?” Atsumu demanded, slinking in behind his mother and sticking unusually close to his brother’s side.
He earned a judgemental look from Aiko with that. “Huh? It’s yer dad.” She was already busying herself with washing up, her groceries discarded on the counter while her sons clutched them tightly in their hands. They were still lingering in the genkan, casting suspicious looks at their supposed father.
Osamu toed the door shut with a click and leaned over to Atsumu. In a stage whisper, he said, “What the fuck is a dad?” Atsumu snorted and swung his bag of groceries into Osamu’s hip.
“Shut the fuck up, don’t be dumb,” he scolded lightly. “A dad’s the person who ditches ya when yer two years old and leaves yer ma to raise ya by herself because he’s a good-for-nothing piece a’ shit with no brains.”
Aiko, from the kitchen, stifled a bout of laughter in the washcloth she was holding before plastering a faux-stern look upon her face and saying, “You boys watch yer language, now. Ya wouldn’t want to scare him off now, would ya?”
“Again, ya mean?” Osamu covered his face with a concerned look and stared his father down. “Hope ya know ’Tsumu and I are better well-behaved than we were fourteen years ago. Think ya’ll try to stick around this time or nah?”
Atsumu elbowed him in the side. “’Samu, being so rude to our dear old pa just moments after we’re blessedly reunited? How cold can ya get,” he chided. He turned to face his father and put on the same face Osamu had. “Excuse his poor attitude, pa. Ya see, we’re just not used to havin’ a manly figure ‘round the house. Ya know, since ya left when we were only two.”
The balding man -- their father -- gritted his teeth and stood up from the couch as he wrung his hands. “Now,” he says, voice gravelly. “Now don’t you boys be holding that over my head. It was so long ago -- nearly two decades now, it’s been -- and there’s nothing you can change about the past. Aiko, tell these boys to simmer it down and respect their father.” He turned his beady eyes toward Aiko in the kitchen, where she was busying herself with washing the produce and not simmering down her sons.
Before his mother’s attention could successfully be retrieved, Atsumu plopped his grocery bags on the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. “Ya don’t get to do that now. Yer lucky Ma hasn't even kicked ya out yet. Should be wastin’ away on the curb somewhere instead of sittin’ on our couch.”
Osamu nodded as he put his groceries down too, though instead of confronting his father more, he went to wash up and help with dinner.
“Don’t even know yer name, and yer actin’ like ya deserve basic respect from us. Fourteen years.” Atsumu laughed. “We don’t need ya. We definitely don’t want ya. So what’re ya doin’ here?”
Their father stared Atsumu down as harshly as he could, but the look in his son’s eyes was enough to cause him to eventually avert his eyes and look around the place. “None of what I’m doing here is your business,” he said testily. “I’m here to speak to your mother alone.” He paused, then looked back at Atsumu. “And it’s Sato. Itsuki.”
“Don’t care. Didn’t ask. Ma, can he get the fuck out?” Atsumu wheeled around to look at his mother.
Aiko turned and dried her hands on her thighs with a heavy sigh. “Why did I say about yer language, Atsumu?” she scolded. “Now stop arguin’ with him and come help yer poor ma make yer dinner. He can sit there and wait if he wants to talk to me so badly. Had fourteen years to do it and I’m not workin’ his schedule now.”
Something about the way she spoke about his father as if he wasn’t sitting ten feet away seemed to satisfy Atsumu’s anger for the time being, because he shot one more withering look in his father’s direction before heading to the sink to wash up and help with dinner prep.
…
It was hours later, after dinner, when Aiko sent both boys to wash up and sit themselves in bed until their father left. It was time for the adults to talk, she had said, and put her palm over Atsumu’s face when he tried to argue that they had a right to sit there and listen in. Now they were sat huddled on Osamu’s bed, heads ducked so as not to hit the bars above, and ears pressed against the wall separating their bedroom from the living room. It was a valiant effort to listen in, although their sporadic arguments were making it hard to make out any real conversation.
“Shitty ’Samu,” Atsumu hissed, wiggling away from Osamu’s elbow driving itself into his side. “Scoot over.”
Osamu sneered. “Why don’t ya shut the fuck up, huh? I can’t hear a thing over yer heavy ass breathing!” They exchanged venomous looks with each other and tried again to organize their too-long limbs on the twin bed. When they pressed their ears against the wall again, however, they couldn't even hear the murmurs of conversation from before. This was likely due to the fact that Aiko was storming down the hallway now to rip both of them new ones for eavesdropping on a conversation she specifically told them wasn’t for their ears.
The door swung open and both boys fell at an astonishing speed flat against the bed, mouths open and eyes shut with fitful snores escaping Atsumu’s mouth every few seconds. To them, they made an awfully convincing picture; to Aiko or Itsuki, lingering behind her as if getting too close to the room would make him a real father, they looked like overgrown idiots about to break the brittle beams holding Osamu’s bed together.
Aiko mumbled a curse under her breath and shut the door again with a wave and, “No use. Those big dumb boys never learn.”
Osamu sat up again and kicked Atsumu’s shoulder to get him up. He shot him a victorious smile and two half-pumps of his fist, as if to celebrate their oh-so-impressive acting. Atsumu returned with two thumbs up and they pressed their ears to the wall once more (they never do learn, huh?)
…
It turned out Itsuki was in town because he was desperately in need of money, and the last person he could think of was the woman he left fourteen years before (as well as their two sons, but they were more of a bitter afterthought to him than anything. Really, he admitted when asked by Aiko that he had forgotten they were in the picture before he saw the pictures around the living room. He’d said otherwise he wouldn’t have bothered to come at all).
It goes without saying that when the twins heard of the reason Itsuki made a reappearance in their lives, they all but wrestled him right out of their house and onto the path before their door. It took some sharp words from Aiko to get them back in the house, although she wasn’t quite intimidating enough to quell the anger in them. That led to volleyball in the backyard (punishment for being far too rough in their frustration with the household objects), and volleyball led inevitably to a fistfight with several injuries. They were made to show up to school the next day with bandages dotting their faces and arms. This was a common occurrence; in fact, it was actually stranger to see them without the bandages than vice versa.
It was practice that afternoon where Atsumu was finally granted permission to explode with explanation for why he’d been brooding and snapping and starting fights all day. He spilled the whole story (including dramatic re-enactment and poor voice-acting) of how he and Osamu had thought Istuki was a robber in their house, how Aiko walked in like it was a typical day and started dinner, how Itsuki only wanted money, and how Atsumu had valiantly thrown him out of the house all by himself and warned him not to show his face around their parts again.
Osamu filled in every so often with details Atsumu was forgetting or with corrections, humbling his brother every chance he got and making sure the rest of the Inarizaki Volleyball Club understood that Atsumu did not put his father in a headlock and tossed him one-armed out of their house (“You can’t even put me in a one-armed headlock, ya idiot!”).
Just as they always did, the volleyball club hung on every word of Atsumu’s story until he stood and bowed with a flourish. Osamu only bowed too because he himself was the teensiest bit proud of standing up to their father.
“I have a question,” Rintarou said once a decent beat had passed since Atsumu sat back down. “How did he even get in the house? You guys lock your door, right?”
Atsumu looked at Osamu and frowned. “Yeah, how did he get in the house?” Osamu shrugged.
“You were supposed to lock the door, technically. So…” He trailed off and raised his eyebrows in an accusatory manner. Aran interrupted before Atsumu could be properly enraged and start a fight.
He leaned forward eagerly, always one to enjoy the twins' dramatic stories, and said, “Is your dad hot?” His question was met with raucous uproar, both in favor of and against it. The twins had disgusted looks on their faces, while Ginjima, Rintarou, and Akagi lit up and vehemently agreed.
“He is not! He’s bald!” Osamu said defensively. “Bald!”
Atsumu went very silent and looked at his brother again. “Wait. He’s bald, ’Samu. Does that mean we’re gonna go bald, too? I can’t lose this!” He carded his fingers through his straw-colored hair and fell flat on his back on the gym floor, mourning the far-out, eventual loss of his hair.
Osamu reacted similarly, except before he went spread-eagle to pout he slipped in a snide, “Yer already baldin’ with all the damage that bleach did to yer hair.”
This resulted in yet another (miniscule) fistfight, the third this week (it was Tuesday) broken up by Aran and Rintarou. They were settled only by Rintarou suggesting they make plans for the following day after afternoon practice.
(Like children, they had to be distracted by pretty and/or exciting things to calm their bickering. The Inarizaki VBC tried to pretend this was annoying at times, but really, they found it at least somewhat endearing. After all, these boys were the life of their club, babies or not.)
Coming home from practice on Tuesday to see Itsuki in their kitchen was one thing; Atsumu had what he would describe as a stern chat with his mother about how she was not going to let this man come back into their life, not after so long and after the awful things he did to them by product of leaving out of nowhere, while Osamu moved around the kitchen preparing dinner and acting firmly as if he was the only other person not being scolded by Atsumu in Aiko’s bedroom.
So coming home on Tuesday to Itsuki was one thing; they thought they had gotten past it by the time they got home on Wednesday, yet, lo and behold, on their couch and reading the newspaper was Itsuki again. Atsumu walked right past him and into his and Osamu’s bedroom, taking extra care to slam the door as hard as he could get away with. Osamu took one look at his father, realized Aiko was not yet home, and actually walked right back out the door to go mess around in the yard and waste time before their plans with Rintarou, Aran, and Kita.
He ended up back inside minutes later due to an explosive verbal fight between Atsumu and Itsuki that he could hear from the end of the yard. When he got back inside, Atsumu was inches away from Itsuki and shoving a finger into his chest as he rattled off every profane, vulgar, core-shaking insult he could think of. Osamu weaseled his way between the two and pushed Atsumu back.
“He’s not worth yer attention, ’Tsumu,” he said harshly. “Back off. Calm down before Aran-san gets here with Ojiro-kun.” He started his brother down and quelled the argument rising in him, only satisfied when the fire in Atsumu’s eyes boiled down enough and he stepped away to hover in his room until their friends arrived.
It looked like Itsuki had half the mind to say something to Osamu, a thank you, perhaps, for getting him out of that situation with Atsumu, but it was fairly clear he was not interested in exchanging any kind of peaceful words with his father, let alone accept that what he’d done could have aided him in any fashion.
“Samu! Ojiro texted! He’s out in the front with SunaRin and Aran-san!” Atsumu called back from the bedroom; he broke the awkward silence that had settled over Osamu and Itsuki in the few minutes between Atsumu leaving and Aran’s arrival.
Osamu stood and started looking around the living room for his coat, calling back, “I’m writin’ a note fer Ma, be out in a sec!” He scribbled a few words on a scrap of paper and left it on the counter, then shrugged on his shirt at the same time Atsumu left their room and came into the kitchen. Ojiro opened the door at the same time, peeking through as if he lived there as well.
“Hey guys, are you ready to -- go?” Ojiro’s voice broke when he made eye contact with Itsuki, again on the couch (really, where else did he go?). He looked back at the twins as if to ask, desperately, with his eyes, ‘What the hell is he doing here?’
They shrugged back in unison. With Aiko still at work, neither of them knew why Itsuki was still allowed to hang around.
“Um. My mom’s waiting outside,” Ojiro finished, looking determinedly away from Itsuki and the living room as a whole.
Itsuki made a gargled sound from the back of his throat and stood up. “Don’t pretend like you didn’t just see me!” he said indignantly. “I’m right here! The fucking disrespect…”
“Huh?” Atsumu looked up and over from where he was reaching for a shoe under the dining table and grinned at Ojiro. “Oh, you can actually acknowledge him this time. Thank you, though.” He shoved his foot into his shoe and straightened up, glowering at Itsuki in the process. Osamu drove his elbow into Atsumu’s side and gave him a reprimanding look; they did not need to get into a fight in front of Ojiro.
Ojiro straightened his back and made eye contact with Itsuki again. He bowed his head in the respectful way he did to all his seniors, but muttered, “Cheating bastard,” as an acknowledgement instead of his name or any of his usual honorifics.
Osamu was shuffling Atsumu toward the door when Rintarou pushed the door open further and said, “Yo guys, are you actually ready to -- go? ‘Cause Aran’s mom has been outside for a long time.” He gave the twins and Ojiro the same puzzled glance Ojiro had sported before and was met with three identical shrugs.
“Fucking ridiculous. Where are you boys going?” Itsuki demanded, now deciding for the first time in fourteen years to play the dad card.
Atsumu sneered at him. “Suck my cock. We’re leavin’. ’Samu, you wrote that note for Ma? Sweet.” He shot another calculated, hateful look toward his dad and was the first out the door, slinking by Rintarou quickly lest he once again lose his temper and get into a fighting match.
“Smell ya later,” Osamu added as he followed his brother. Ojiro and Rintarou, not eager to be left alone in the house with the twins’ father, were quick to follow suit, and Ojiro slammed the door as hard as he felt was both disrespectful to Itsuki and respectful to Aiko on his way out.
No explanation was asked for from the twins, and one wasn’t offered, either. It was clear to the other two boys from Atsumu’s furrowed brow and Osamu’s lack of a real smile when he greeted Aran-san that neither were quite in the mood to discuss their father and his lingering presence around the house.
It took very little to get them out of their moods; really, Aran-san only offered to buy them some snacks before dropping them off at the sports center and both Miyas were nothing but smiles.
...
Their smiles lasted well into the evening, because when they returned home, Itsuki was gone; so were his bags, which Osamu had been tripping over the last three days, and his coat and keys from their rack. A wordless exchange between Osamu and Aiko where Osamu raised his eyebrows and Aiko nodded her head confirmed Itsuki would not be returning. No one so much as mentioned his name; Aiko herded them toward the sink to wash up before dinner, encouraged Ojiro and Rintarou to join them for the night, and (like she’d been doing the last fourteen years on her own) kept her boys in line.
Who needs to worry about a good-for-nothing man hanging around money-grubbing when you have two teenage boys to a) fight him off and b) defend your honor to the utmost level anyways?
finit