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You could drain yourself until you’re nothing but flesh and bones, you could hurt and bleed, and you could stand at the top watching all the wasted potential of others, all the slackers and incompetent ones, and there would still be someone born better. You can convince yourself that you’re good, the best even, but there will still be another name shouted louder, said with more respect. You can always be good, but never good enough to be better than the one who was destined to be the star.
Tooru is aware of Miya Atsumu. He was never a concerning factor or a threat, just someone there to humble all the people he couldn’t bear as a teen. It’s satisfying to watch him destroy the players on the opposite side of the court, not only because of his daring, genius plays, but because of the way he carries himself, like he’s there to completely devour the other team. And he always does. Atsumu yells and he curses and he stomps everyone with his feet, and Tooru doesn’t think it’s obnoxious, maybe just a little, but it makes a familiar kind of fire in his gut burn stronger.
It’s needless to say that it was completely anticlimactic once he found himself standing in front of Miya Atsumu, but at the same side of the court. Tooru has never imagined this moment, but if he did, he would expect Atsumu to react the exact same way he does.
“This wasn’t a part of the deal,” Tooru says, not to Atsumu or anyone else in the room, but to Kuroo Tetsurou who’s probably waiting for the game to start, cackling at the best seat in the arena.
“Like I would agree knowing I’d have to share my spot in the team with you,” Atsumu replies instantly, eyes wide and wandering all over Tooru as if this moment is completely surreal to him.
“We aren’t sharing spots, you’re just the back-up.”
Shoyo takes a breath in through his teeth, the awkwardness of the entire situation making him rethink his excitement for this match.
“This isn’t that serious, you guys. If anything I’m happy to play with two amazing setters. We will eat them up.”
Tooru understands, but he doesn’t care. This isn’t what he wanted.
Atsumu looks at him like he’s debating in his head whether to hit him or say the worst imaginable things you could have said to you, and it isn’t threatening, just amusing.
“You should watch out for that mouth of yours,” Atsumu says as he walks a step closer, and Tooru doesn’t flinch, he doesn’t back away because he knows that’s exactly what the other wants.
The best way to control people is to not give them the reaction that they want, and that’s all Atsumu has been used to - things going exactly as he needs them. He can do that with those less confident about themselves, but Tooru knows they stand on equal ground, and he won't succumb.
“Stop with that, immediately,” a too familiar voice says, and it finally makes his eyes tear away from Atsumu just to see Hajime grabbing the other’s arm, and the only thing he gives Tooru is a scolding look and a, “I don’t have to tell you twice.”
Tooru doesn’t like pissing him off because Hajime knows all the ways to make him lower his head to the ground in shame, because he is right about anything he says, even the things Tooru doesn’t want to accept. It’s a little infuriating but something he’s learned to deal with throughout the years.
“If you were on the other team you’d have to play with Ushijima and Tobio, so this might not be too bad,” Shoyo tells Tooru in an attempt to ease the tension, and Tooru laughs. Atsumu looks at him as if he was betrayed, a quiet What do you mean too bad? leaves his mouth considering the grip Hajime still has on him.
“You’re right,” Tooru turns back to Atsumu and says, “Use this as a way to learn how to deal with the big guys.”
He walks past him as if he’s done something, and everyone else probably thinks that he did, but the truth is that Atsumu knows exactly how to deal with monster players, but he doesn’t know how to deal with Tooru, and he will certainly give him a lot to work with.
Tooru catches a glimpse of Tobio and Ushijima, the ones he’s probably destined to despise with at least a tiny bit of himself as long as he lives, but instead he decides to focus on his own team. As much as he likes to indulge in his pettines, there are priorities.
He has never worked with these guys. There are some that he’s very excited about - Aran Ojiro and Rintaro Suna. There’s also Sakusa Kiyoomi who looks way too amused every time Tooru and Atsumu have an interaction, but at the same time seems as if he’s disappointed with the amount of ego one can feed in.
And, of course, there’s Shoyo, sweet and glowing, scary to the opponents in a way that they themselves can’t even understand, but Tooru lives for it, and he knows they will play on wooden court together even better than they did all those years ago on sand burning from the Brazilian sun.
“I really want us to show those guys what we are made of,” Shoyo says as he comes to stand next to him, “I think that even after all these years they still don’t understand it.”
Tooru looks at him and sees a foul grin on his face. It’s not the opponents that they’re facing that makes him want to give more than maximum of himself in this game, it’s the need to bring out the best of Shoyo and humble Atsumu at the same time.
He brushes Atsumu’s shoulder as he walks to the court and he wants so badly to turn around and watch him sit on the bench, but he doesn’t even have to. He can imagine that Atsumu’s anger has always been the loudest thing in the room, and he can feel it right now. It’s just an exciting bit dangerous.
The game is fast and fierce, the adrenaline rushes through Tooru’s entire body throughout the entire match and it’s so overwhelming that he can’t even think straight about anything other than winning. Years ago it probably would’ve been filled with insanely long rallies, but now the both teams are more experienced, they know how to make any kind of player crack.
The opponents don’t disappoint, just as Tooru expected it. They give them a lot of trouble to deal with, but he easily learns that the guys on his side are as determined to score as him. They work perfectly even when the point goes to the other team, Tooru doesn’t even once frown at a badly played move.
Once it’s time for him and Atsumu to switch, Tooru looks at him with eyes that proudly scream Saw that? and Atsumu understands. He holds Tooru’s number high in the air, and as he reaches out to take it, their fingers brush and he knows that everything Atsumu does on the court from this very moment, it will be for Tooru’s eyes.
One thing Atsumu adores is to prove himself. Not because he’s insecure as someone might think, but because the doubting of others motivates him to be even greater. What he doesn’t know is that Tooru doesn’t doubt him even a bit, if anything, he wants to watch him strive even higher. Atsumu’s going to leave the opponents broken to pieces, worn out and gasping for air, and Tooru’s going to enjoy every second of it.
Shoyo shines like a golden star on the court, just as he usually does, but it’s hard to disagree that it’s Atsumu that brings out his most potential. They work as one. It’s clear that they have spent a lot of time doing this, sweeping the rug from their enemies feet. Shoyo smiles at Atsumu in a way that he doesn’t when Tooru helps him score, it’s like he’s saying Just as we practiced , and it annoys Tooru just a tiny bit. He’s seen this scene once already.
Tooru finds himself gripping the wooden bench every time Atsumu runs to set, it’s like blood rushes straight to his head when he sees Shoyo or Sakusa Kiyoomi jump to spike. It’s always perfect, calculated. But it’s when Atsumu squats, leaning so far back that it seems as if he’ll lose balance to those who haven’t watched any of his games, that Tooru praises him under his breath. He places his fingers under the ball to calm it, sending it flying in the air in an amazing set. His eyes are glowing, droplets of sweat rolling down his neck, and Tooru knows that feeling all too well. He’s a bit tired, doesn’t immediately jump back, and Tooru accidentally lets his eyes wander across thick thighs and black shorts tightly stretched around them. When he looks up, they’ve already scored a point and Atsumu waves at him with his fingers in a playful way, gone unnoticed by everyone else.
Tooru smiles and thinks, Yeah, I saw that.
He’s starting to think that if anything, Atsumu likes to please. He isn’t doing this just to show off, he’s aware that everyone in this arena knows how good he is, but to Tooru it feels as if there’s an ulterior motive behind it.
Atsumu is the type of player to outdo himself in every game, always something new, always leaving jaws on the floor, but today is different. Even the men he’s spent a long time playing with or against seem to be taken aback by his fierceness today. The opponents clench their fists and Shoyo laughs but a mix of confusion and excitement is written all over his face. This is a fun game.
“Something tells me you’re not as annoyed as I expected you to be right now,” Hajime tells him.
“I can’t be. I knew he was good before I even came here,” Tooru replies, “He pisses off Tobio a lot, that’s enough for me to like him.”
Tooru wonders how it would feel to have Atsumu on the opposite side of the net, just a few inches away. He has never liked the easy games, the slackers who give up fast when they see him. Tooru loves the ones whose blood boils when they know they will be playing against him. He always wants a challenge, and that’s exactly what Atsumu would give him. He wants to anger Atsumu so much that he would do anything to destroy him.
As they shake hands with the opponents in the middle of the court, Tooru smiles at Tobio and says, “Well played,” and he truly means it.
It’s become a thing to force himself to appreciate the way other great players work, and it’s now a natural habit to praise others when they impress him. He had to accept the constant frown he had while watching others do well as a part of his own insecurity. But now there is nothing to fear, at least not on the court.
Tooru spends some time talking to the opponents and the guys on his team that he didn’t have time to meet properly before the game. He’s glad to know that everyone enjoyed the game, maybe not as much as him, but it was definitely a success. Kuroo must be very pleased to be the one standing behind it all.
When he finally gets tired of small talk, he leaves for the changing room, finding it almost completely empty except for Atsumu who seems to be dragging out his departure. He’s already dressed and showered judging by the refreshing smell that fills the room. When he turns around to face Tooru, he finds himself speechless, which is very unlike him.
It’s needless to say that he’s been quite impressed a few times during the match by the other setter, but it feels as if words of praise won’t be enough to express that.
“Shoyo seems to be very pleased to have played with you. You’ve worn out my spiker quite a bit.”
Tooru smiles and he knows that’s true because earlier he could hear Shoyo excitedly talking about the game, but he was completely out of breath and couldn’t even finish the previous sentence before he started a new one.
“I think you’re the one I’ve worn out. You made sure to leave quite an impression.”
Atsumu raises an eyebrow in slight confusion, but the tug of his lips tells Tooru that being so blunt isn’t something he dislikes.
“You think I played for you?” Atsumu points a finger at him and takes a few steps forward and suddenly Tooru’s confidence wavers and he doesn’t remember the last time he felt as if someone wanted to break him. They usually don’t have the nerve.
“It didn’t seem to me that winning mattered to you as much as it usually does,” Tooru replies and to him it comes out weak, cowardly.
Atsumu chuckles but he keeps walking forward and Tooru finds himself backing away, but when his shoulder blades only lightly brush the cold wall, he realizes there’s no coming back from this.
“Does that mean you spend your time watching my games?”
“I watch all the games, and I notice things. Today you were just showing off for the audience.”
“And is the audience pleased?” Atsumu tilts his head and he’s too close for someone Tooru has known only for a day. His presence is overwhelming once you’re left alone in a room with him. Tooru has imagined this on the court, but this way it’s even more dangerous.
“What do you think?”
Tooru breathes in sharply once Atsumu presses a finger in the middle of his chest, leaning into his private space. Tooru is suddenly hyper aware of the sweat that still clings to his skin, the adrenaline rush he always gets after a well-played game and the clothes that he desperately wants to take off.
“I think it’s amusing to have such a big player shaking in front of me.” Tooru isn’t shaking physically, they both know that, but Atsumu reads him too well. “And if we were to say I was playing for your eyes only, would you like that?”
“I’d like it more if you were on the opposing team.”
“Are you a masochist?”
Tooru thinks yes , he probably is.
Atsumu’s one finger turns into his entire palm pressed on Tooru’s chest, the tips of their feet almost touching. Tooru subtly licks the corner of his lower lip, and regrets it immediately when Atsumu’s eyes lower from his own.
“If someone walked in now they would get the wrong idea,” Tooru says, it’s breathy and a lot lower than his usual tone.
“Wouldn’t that be surprising for them? You left a different kind of impression when we were in here a few hours ago.”
“I like to leave people speechless.”
Atsumu laughs and in a way it eases the tension, it’s a little easier to breathe.
Tooru moves his hand to wrap his fingers around Atsumu’s wrist, and it brings him even closer but Tooru doesn’t even care anymore.
“Now I’m a little sad I didn’t get to break you on the court today,” Atsumu says as his lips drag over Tooru’s jaw.
“It wasn’t the original plan but I’m sure we can arrange something else.”
“Oh, so there was a plan?”
“I’m sure you’d love to hear about it. You like your ego stroked.”
Atsumu hums and it raises every hair on Tooru’s skin. He grips Atsumu’s jaw with his fingers and forces him to look him in the eye.
“I could make it up for you now, but next time I’ll make sure to wipe the floors with you, if that's what you want," Atsumu says.
Tooru smiles as he leans in, yearning so badly but a part of him doesn’t want this game to end yet. “I’d love that.”
He might’ve lost the battle today, but he’s certainly won the war.