Chapter Text
location: Jimbocho, Tokyo, Japan
A fresh breath of air and a new beginning—that’s what this was. A chance at freedom. A fresh start.
Atsumu stopped in front of his studio apartment with two suitcases in hand. Located on the corner of a quieter neighborhood within the busy city, it marked his new life—his new home. As melodramatic as it sounded, the feeling was exhilarating. These were his first real steps into adulthood.
As he hobbled his way into the building, he took in the subtle scenery of the hallways and elevators. The walls of the hallway were a boring shade of gray, lit by soft white lights. They were adorned with small, obscure art pieces—nothing flashy, but that was exactly what enticed Atsumu the most. Quaint. Unassuming. A place that would pale in comparison to his exuberant personality.
He made his way to the elevator, stepping inside and sucking in a deep breath. Atsumu had been traveling all day, all the way from his small country hometown of Hyogo to the bustling city of Tokyo.
To no one’s surprise, Atsumu had been awarded a scholarship at Meiji University, which he graciously accepted. Osamu and their parents frowned when they found out, knowing they were about to send the childish blonde off to live alone in the flashing lights of Tokyo. Atsumu, of course, insisted that university would only benefit him and push him closer to his goal of working in sports media.
When the elevator doors slid open on the sixth floor, Atsumu took off toward his apartment. He’d only viewed the place twice before—just a cute studio with barely enough space for him, but it was his. Pausing in front of his door, he let out a huff and dug through his tote bag for his keys. When he finally pulled them out with a triumphant, “Yes,” he heard quick footsteps approaching.
Glancing up, he caught sight of someone tugging their hat down, clearly trying to shield their face. The lanky figure wasted no time unlocking the door to the apartment next to his and slipping inside. Atsumu’s eyebrows wrinkled in confusion at the odd behavior, but who was he to judge? He was new here, after all. The poor guy was probably just intimidated by a presence as large and shining as Atsumu Miya’s.
Ignoring the strange interaction, Atsumu entered his apartment, dragging his heavy suitcases into the empty space he would soon turn into a home. He forgot to take his shoes off in the genkan—not that it mattered. He didn’t even own house slippers yet, and spring cleaning was inevitable anyway.
His mother’s words echoed in his mind: A new house is a very filthy one.
The reminder made him smile. It felt like freedom.
The place was empty, just as expected. Still, with the help of his loving parents and a part-time job at a popular bookstore back home—where he worked alongside Suna—Atsumu had managed to purchase furniture of his own. None of it was new or particularly eye-catching, but it was his, and he loved every piece. Ever the optimist, he insisted the older furniture was vintage, and that Samu could suck it because he lived alone now.
The movers were set to arrive before his afternoon media history lecture, and since it was still early, Atsumu decided to grab lunch and explore the area a little more.
After a quick shower, he stepped out of the apartment building, the cool October air hitting him full in the face. It sent goosebumps racing across his skin, but it was refreshing. As nice as all these new experiences were, Atsumu couldn’t help but miss the chaos of Hyogo—his “other half and soulmate” (also known as Osamu and Suna).
He wanted to call his twin so badly, just to annoy the hell out of him and brag about being the first to move out of the Miya household. But Atsumu had talked way too much shit about how he wouldn’t call once he got to Tokyo because he’d be too busy adulting. There was no way he was admitting defeat now. Not yet.
He’d wandered around the city near his hotel earlier, mapping out the route to campus, but this time he wanted to explore the area closest to home. He wasn’t looking for anything specific—maybe just a café he could unofficially claim as his designated study spot. As he strolled down the street, cars passing lazily by, the bag on his shoulders felt light, holding only his laptop and a few essentials.
Jimbocho was slower than the rest of the city. Tiny shops and cafés lined the sidewalks, and Atsumu even passed a flower shop that doubled as a bookstore. Five minutes from his apartment, he came across a small park and decided to sit on a bench and call a friend. (Don’t beat him up—he was lonely.)
The phone rang twice, much to Atsumu’s dismay, before a calm voice finally answered.
“Hi, Atsu. Are you okay?” Akaashi Keiji’s voice poured smoothly through the line.
“Keiji-kunnnnn, I’m awful lonely out ’ere. It’s so quiet. I hate the silence, an’ I can’t call Samu and complain or else my beautiful, stubborn pride’ll go to cow shit, and I just can’t take that heat. I’ll never recover,” Atsumu rambled, leaving himself breathless and wearing the saddest pout imaginable.
There was a pause before Akaashi’s calm, stable voice responded. “Okay… well, hello to you too, I guess. Honestly, Samu’s called me about six times since you texted the group chat that you arrived safely. I think it’s safe to say he misses you too. Also, we can revisit the fact that you refer to your pride as beautiful at a later date.”
His delivery was nearly emotionless—typical Akaashi—which Atsumu had coined years ago as the Akaashi Keiji–Stabilizing Effect. (He made it up, but he swore it was the truest phenomenon in the universe.)
“Keiji, as my second bestest friend in the whole wide galaxy,” Atsumu began, completely ignoring the imaginary offense, “I’m kinda hurt you haven’t run down here to greet me. We’re basically neighbors now, y’know. You can’t avoid me—especially not while I’m havin’ a mini crisis.”
This wasn’t much of a lie. If you counted living one train stop and three blocks away as neighbors, this was the closest they’d ever been in the four years of their friendship.
“Considering I had class this morning and immediately napped upon returning to my lovely dorm room, I couldn’t quite fit ‘sprint to go see my best pal Atsumu Miya’ into my schedule,” Akaashi replied dryly. “Please forgive me, oh holy one.”
“Sometimes I wonder why I ain’t found another best friend yet,” Atsumu muttered.
“And sometimes I wonder why Osamu didn’t eat you as a fetus,” Akaashi sighed.
There was a beat of silence before both of them burst into laughter.
“Such a bitch, ’Kaashi,” Atsumu said between laughs.
“In all seriousness, I don’t have any more classes today. I could come over later. We can watch that kids’ movie you like—the one far too childish for a grown man like you,” Akaashi offered. “I figured you’d be busy moving in.”
“Movers’ll be here soon, then I’ve got a lecture. But if ya wanna come by around six, I’m down for a sleepover with my bestie,” Atsumu grinned, excitement replacing the faux gloom he’d worn earlier.
“Deal. I’ll bring takeout and that insatiable amount of plum candy you like. Housewarming gift,” Akaashi said.
The call ended shortly after, Akaashi claiming he was receiving more important calls. Atsumu sat for a moment with just his thoughts, his tote bag, and his phone, feeling far more confident about living alone—about being, quote-unquote, a grown-up.
He headed back toward his apartment, stopping at a café he hadn’t noticed earlier to grab yakisoba bread and a spicy tuna onigiri. Halfway home, his phone buzzed with a call from the movers. They’d arrived.
Atsumu quickened his pace, determined to get his home set up before his lecture.