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Ah, Atsumu thought as he listened to the ball slam against the floor on the other side of the court. That wasn’t very satisfying.
----
He wasn’t sure when volleyball stopped being fun for him.
Atsumu could think back to his time in high school when every set was exhilarating. He was hungry for his next chance to battle the team on the other side of the net.
----
“After high school… I think I’m done Tsumu.”
----
In university, Atsumu ended up pairing off with Kageyama Tobio the year he graduated. He would constantly work to prove that he was the better setter -- the two going as far to hit each other’s sets -- like he used to do with Samu -- to prove that they made it easier for their hitter than the other.
Neither gave an inch. Atsumu was constantly fighting for his right to be on the court. It was fast-paced, loud, and energetic. Exactly how volleyball should be.
Then they graduated.
----
“What are you going to do once you graduate?”
“Me? I figured I’d put that business degree to use and open a restaurant.”
“Not considering coming back to volleyball?”
“Come on now Tsumu, you know you’ve always loved it more than I have!”
But… had he?
----
“Hey Tobio, where’s your other half?” Atsumu had called one day after practice. He wasn’t sure what prompted him to ask, but in the year and a half he had been playing with Kageyama, he hadn’t once seen the middle blocker that had forced the other setter to evolve so many times.
When Kageyama scoffed instead of answering him properly, Atsumu knew he hit a nerve. And like the true asshole he is, he decided to grind into it until Kageyama let him know what was bugging him.
After about five minutes of trying to cajole the answer out of the younger, with the only threat to work being that he wouldn’t set to Kageyama in the next game, Tobio finally bit out, “He’s in Brazil. Decided we weren’t enough of a challenge for him so he decided to give sand volleyball a try.”
And oh… that was a punch to the gut for some reason. Atsumu only faintly heard the rest of what Kageyama said: “He left almost as soon as we graduated. I think he mentioned coming back in a few years. Last I heard he and that bastard Oikawa were making waves in the scene.”
“--Was that a pun Tobio-chan?” One of their teammates called, “I didn’t think you were smart enough to make plays on words like that!”
The team’s roughhousing and bickering faded even more as Atsumu realized that he was doing nothing. What had changed for him in the last two years? He was setting for players he hadn’t before? That’s what a setter was supposed to be able to do. Had he improved any since the last time he had actually played the duo?
“Kageyama,” he interrupted, his voice far away to his own ears, “you’ve got Hinata’s Instagram right? Does he post?”
After a few more quick responses, Atsumu had managed to weasel the handle out of Kageyama. He had only had to promise to set for the second string in their next match against each other to get it. It was almost too easy.
----
How am I supposed to match him?
Atsumu watched one of the most recent reels Hinata had posted. It started with him settling his phone into something in the sand, grinning as someone called something in a foreign language off-screen.
Once he had the phone set how he wanted, Hinata bound out of the frame and Atsumu heard what must have been the call for the set because the next thing he knew, Hinata was flying.
He could tell just by this video that Hinata’s technique had improved in leaps and bounds (ha… get it?) from when he had last watched the ginger jump. His impact point seemed to practically leave a crater in the sand for all the pressure he put into the jump and it almost looked like his entire body was above the net when he hit the ball.
“Hinata-kun, one day I’m going to set for you.”
How has anything he’s done made him worth tossing to a hitter who was clearly giving his all?
----
Before he knew it, Atsumu was smiling with his parents while both he and Osamu clutched their respective degrees in their hands. Osamu had the keys to a small onigiri shop that he was apprenticing at before he would inherit it.
Atsumu had a tryout with the MSBY Black Jackals. He still wasn’t sure what he had done to warrant the position. He had been experiencing his plays almost as if he wasn’t a part of them for the better half of the season.
But the coach saw something in him, and he was invited to try out along with a few of his rivals from high school.
The Monster Generation
That’s what they were called. Apparently, the professional scene had been foaming at the mouth to get anyone who had competed from the years surrounding Atsumu’s high school time.
He wonders how they would have reacted if Japan had been good enough to keep all the monster generation inland.
Well… whatever. Not like I have anything else to do…
----
“Hey, hey, hey! Tsum-Tsum didja see that spike? Huh? Your toss was insane! Almost as good as Akaashi’s!”
Bokuto was an enigma. Atsumu has been playing with him for nearly 4 months now and he still wasn’t sure what the best sets were for the owl-like hitter. It was kind of fun trying to figure out what sets accommodated what mood the spiker would be in that day.
Only kind of though.
“Hah? Bokkun if you keep talking like that I’m going to think you’re cheating on me!” Atsumu called back as he watched Sakusa go up for a serve on the other side of the net. God, but he hated it when he served.
Bokuto let out a booming laugh as he settled into a stance to receive. “Atsumu even you must know you would be my side piece if I ever thought of leaving Kaashi!”
Of course, I know that, Atsumu thought bitterly to himself. He watched the ball go up from another absolutely brutal serve. As he carefully placed himself under the ball, he thought of where everyone was on the court.
If there was one thing he could say about pro volleyball it’s that he had to think quickly if he wanted even a chance to trick the opposing blockers.
There!
The ball left his hands like a bullet aimed directly in Meian’s path. As the ball hit the other side of the court (thankfully limiting Sakusa’s sadistic serves to one), Atsumu thought back to what Bokuto had called him.
A side piece. When was the last time he had actually been part of a set?
Growing up it had been the Miya Twins. Capitalized. It was part of his title. He had another half.
Yes, he’s played volleyball and matched off with other players. They’ve accomplished things that he honestly never thought possible. But he didn’t have a half.
Is this why volleyball isn’t fun anymore?
----
Atsumu was running around the park before practice. He had started coming out to run earlier and earlier about a month ago. He hadn’t realized until they were in season, but not having someone to race against every morning had made his runs less productive. He had no drive to keep going. To be better than someone.
It was during these runs that Atsumu considered what his future held. Should he quit? He’s only been with the team for about 6 months at this point but the spark that he had been missing since high school had yet to return to him.
Is it worth doing something if you’re not passionate? Even if it’s the only thing you’re good at?
… And that’s the other thing. What would he do if he wasn’t playing volleyball? His entire life, Atsumu played volleyball with his brother. Then he didn’t have Osamu by his side. But Atsumu still played volleyball.
Maybe I can coach. Find a rival like almost every school in our district seemed to have…
Yeah… If I can’t find anything this season… that’s what I’ll do.
He was so lost in his thoughts that Atsumu didn’t see the small figure bound past him that morning.
----
“Later today we’re going to have a few hopefuls join us for practice!” Foster called one day as they were finishing their warmups before they transitioned to their two v twos. “They’ve got the skills we’re looking for, but I want to see how they synergize with everyone before I make my selection.”
Oh good, Atsumu pondered, spinning the ball in his palm even as he shot a smirk at Sakusa who was grimacing at the thought of even more bodies in their gym. Maybe there will be a setter so I’ll feel less guilty about retiring.
He hadn’t put his metaphorical two-weeks in yet. He wanted to wait until after the tryout cycle was finished. While he didn’t love volleyball, he didn’t want to leave his team high and dry. He would remain until he was no longer a use to them.
Even if he thought he had never really been useful to them.
The practice continued like normal from that point on. Atsumu wasn’t sure what he needed to blame, but he didn’t even notice the small crowd of athletes gathering in the doorway until they had broke for water.
Even then, it took Bokuto giving an exaggerated gasp and calling, “Is that who I think it is?” For Atsumu to actually pay them any mind.
“Bokuto-senpai!” A clear voice rang through the gym in response to the wing spiker’s question.
Atsumu felt his entire body reset in that exact second as a voice he had only ever heard call for a ball to be brought to him… one he couldn’t clearly remember the last time he heard… responded eagerly to his teammate’s calls.
Atsumu kept a tight grip on his water bottle as he fully turned his body to face the swarm of potential players. He didn’t register the rest of his teammates watching him in fascination. (This was, after all, the most interest they had seen him show in anything since they had started playing with him.)
Sure enough, he was there.
His ginger hair seemed darker, but Atsumu quickly realized that was because of the deep tan the middle blocker had. But the smile that was fixed on his face was just as blinding as the first time he had seen Hinata successfully receive Aran’s killer spike.
Atsumu felt his body go through what could only be described as a factory reset.
----
“Why is it that when we play volleyball your mental age seems to regress five years?”
“Ah but that was an insane play Samu!”
“No.”
“You don’t even know what I’m going to ask.”
“Yes, I do. No.”
----
“Well, well!” Atsumu heard his voice call. “It’s as if fate has brought us to this very moment, Shoyo-kun!”
Later, he would deny the dramatic pose he struck as he approached the shorter man for the first time in at least 3 years. Sakusa would proudly show the video he had recorded with the intent to send to his brother. Atsumu would attempt to tackle the wing spiker to get the phone back and be sorely defeated.
However, at that moment, all he could hear was Hinata Shoyo’s bright laugh as he responded. “You did make that promise to me, right Miya-san?”
“Come on, let’s see if you actually learned anything in Brazil, huh?” he asked, gesturing to the court without even thinking of what the coach might actually want them to do.
It was all worth it to see the spark that lit Hinata’s eyes at the challenge. Which only grew brighter when Bokuto chimed in, wanting to know if his pupil had finally surpassed him.
Atsumu had claimed Hinata before the spiker had a chance to pick who he actually wanted to play with and Bokuto bound over to convince one of the other newbies to play with them until the coach caught them.
As Bokuto worked on the newbies, Atsumu wasted no time grabbing a volleyball and starting off with a quick passing drill to help warm the other up. Quickly he realized just how much had changed since Hinata had left for Brazil.
Even in his third year (Atsumu definitely hadn’t watched the younger player’s games when he was reminiscing over his high school years in his first year of university) Hinata’s receives were still pretty hit or miss.
Now the middle blocker locked onto the ball the second it was in the air and it seemed drawn to the other’s arms in a way Atsumu only really saw with the liberos he had played with before.
“What do you think, Shoyo-kun, are you excited to be back in Japan?” he found himself attempting small talk as they easily moved the ball back and forth between the two of them. Even when Bokuto dragged whatever poor player was dumb enough to evoke Foster’s wrath to join in on the warm-up, Shoyo’s receives easily accommodated the new direction the ball would be coming from.
“I loved my time in Brazil,” he responded after thinking for a moment, “but I will admit I’ve missed the set-ups I can only seem to find on these courts.”
Hinata sent a high pass over to Atsumu and it was truly a thing of beauty. There was no spin on it, it gave him plenty of time to assess where he would send it if this was an instance where he would need to actually send a toss and Atsumu found his hands raising on their own.
At that moment, the only set of eyes he could feel on him was Hinata’s--the challenge clear: You’re going to set it, right?
Had there ever been a time he sent up a toss that wasn’t entirely his own free will?
----
“If you’re going to make a reckless receive like that and expect me to hit, you better be able to back up your own attacks, asshole!”
“Shut up, Samu, that was a beautiful set and you know it!”
“We’ll see how you feel when I send a toss like that at you!”
----
He caught the ball.
He met Hinata’s eyes.
The gleam of satisfaction hadn’t left them. Whatever Atsumu was supposed to do, apparently he had done correctly.
“2-v-2,” he grunted out, moving to the court. Atsumu set himself up on the serving line, Bokkun and his newbie on the other side of the net, and Hinata turned to meet his eyes on the same side of the net.
“Nice serve, Atsumu-san,” he grinned, turning and placing his hands on the back of his head.
That sounded more like a threat than anything. Atsumu thought as another foreign thrill raced through him.
The ball went up, cleanly hitting his hand and he smirked in satisfaction as the ball went exactly where he wanted: not Bokuto. While his wheelhouse was known, Atsumu wanted the best chance possible to set up for Hinata.
And his gamble paid off: the ball barely went up and Bokuto called the ball, sending it towards the side of the net for his partner to get a hit off. Before he had a chance to blink, Hinata had moved from next to him and was at the net.
And he flew.
The ball cleanly smacked into Hinata’s arms. The middle blocker had a clear head of height on the other hitter despite being nearly 15 centimeters shorter.
But there was Bokuto who had seemingly anticipated this. His cover set the ball spiraling onto their half of the court and Hinata was down and receiving it, sending the ball straight to Atsumu before he had time to think of how he would get the other to hit the toss now.
And there was that perfect pass again--daring Atsumu to set up something beautiful. And he looked and there was Hinata, already in the middle of his approach as the ball was spiraling towards his hands.
As Hinata’s feet left the floor, Atsumu felt the impact resound through the entire gym--his message was clear to Atsumu.
You hit this with your brother all those years ago, right? I’ve gotten better. You must have to.
Prove it.
Atsumu grinned.
It wasn’t like the smirks he would send the team when his toss would startle them--not expecting the ease at which he made it for them to hit. No, this was filled with emotion he wasn’t sure he could put a label on.
The ball left his fingers quicker than it had in years with an accuracy that surprised him. Although looking back on it, he’s not sure why he was surprised. There was something about Hinata that just drew Atsumu in--why would his tosses be any different?
Boom.
The ball seemed to cave in on itself as it hit the gym floor, Bokuto and his teammate didn’t even have a chance to move.
But when was the last time they had seen an attack at minus tempo?
In fact, the entire gym seemed frozen. The only person who moved was Hinata who turned, looked at Atsumu, and with that gaze that made Atsumu think he would do anything for the hitter, asked:
“Next time, aim a bit higher. My impact point is different from the last time we matched.”
And Atsumu rose immediately to the challenge. “Hah? You’re going to have me perform a toss like that on our first time matching and expect it to be perfect?”
The rest of the regular team winced at the setter’s proud tone. They remembered when they had tried to critique the tosses he had given when he had fully understood what he had done.
“Get on the damn line I’ll toss the ball until your legs fall off!”
“Not if your fingers don’t break first!”
And there was that foreign feeling again. As Atsumu continued to send the ball up to Hinata, Coach Foster seemed to decide that the duo was better in their own world and was running the other players with the rest of the team, Atsumu realized what it was.
It took nearly 20 tosses before he could put a name on the feeling. When the toss perfectly left his fingers, slammed cleanly into Hinata’s hand, and seemed to hit the floor before Atsumu had a chance to blink, the only thought crossing his mind being, Finally.
I didn’t realize. He thought as Hinata turned to him. That predatory look that had been on the ginger’s face the entire time was eclipsed by the sheer joy of finally getting a clean hit off. This is fun.
Volleyball is fun.