Chapter Text
Today is going to be a good day.
At least, that’s what Atsumu thought as he clumsily toweled off his hair in the MSBY locker room, attempting to dig for lotion in the open locker in front of him at the same time.
The Jackals had just wrapped up their last practice of the day, and with his free afternoon Atsumu thought he might head downtown for some shopping and a visit to Osamu’s restaurant before deciding whether the night would lead him out to a club or onto his couch for an evening of catching up on his favorite mediocre teledramas.
As he closed his locker and took a seat on one of the room’s benches, Atsumu halfheartedly tuned in to the rest of the team’s conversation, listening to see if anyone had plans for the evening that sounded particularly entertaining. It was rare that the athletes got time off mid-season, and everyone had been in high spirits on the court that morning. Maybe I’ll see if Shoyo wants to go out tonight, he considered before a raised voice cut through the chatter.
“Hey, is anyone getting a lot of new followers on Twitter today?” Bokuto stood with a towel thrown around his neck, one hand resting on a cocked hip as the other brought his phone in for a closer view.
“I get a lot of followers every day, Bokkun,” Atsumu teased from across the room. “Maybe your fan club is finally makin’ good on their promise to make you more popular than me.”
A loose knee pad flew through the air and smacked the blonde’s shoulder while the team collectively groaned at the comment, followed by a playful shove from Inunaki as he joined Atsumu on the bench.
“Maybe someone made a fancam that went viral or something,” Hinata offered. “You were on top of your game when we played the Hornets last week. Have you gone through the notifications yet?”
The wing spiker frowned as he flicked his thumb across the screen. “There’s so many it’s hard to tell.”
Atsumu rolled his eyes.
“Just give Shoyo the phone Bokkun, he’s on his socials more often.” Nodding in agreement, Bokuto passed his cell to the redhead at his side before leaning against his locker and waiting impatiently for an explanation.
“Okay, so it looks like almost all of these are people tagging you under a tweet from some account called MSBY Classified.” Hinata shared after a few moments of scrolling. “Like I said, it’s probably a fancam, gimme a sec.”
Atsumu watched as Hinata’s eyes widened after one final, tentative tap on the phone’s screen, the spiker’s fearful gaze flitting back and forth between whatever had been posted and Bokuto’s face.
“Okay, we’re gonna get the PR team on this and it’s all going to be fine, Bo.” The words had barely left the redhead’s lips before Bokuto was snatching the phone from his hands to see what could merit that kind of reaction. His face fell as he turned the screen and the team waited in silence, the cheery mood from moments before having turned sour.
“I’ve got to call Keiji,” the spiker choked out before turning toward the door of the locker room, not bothering to finish getting dressed before dialing a number into his cell from memory and slipping through the exit. Bokuto was prone to mood swings, they all knew that by now, but this felt different.
Concerned looks from each member of MSBY flew across the space as everyone rifled through gym bags and lockers to pull out their own phones and see for themselves what exactly had affected their friend so intensely.
After opening the explore page of his Twitter, Atsumu clicked on the first suggestion — the same account that Hinata had mentioned — and started scanning the page.
@MSBY_Classified
Your one and only source into the scandalous lives of the V-League Elite. DMs are open for tips.
Follows You
At first glance the page didn’t look very special compared to any of the other fan pages that already centered around the careers of the teams’ various players. Atsumu was only half joking when he suggested that the spam filling Bokuto’s notifications was from a particularly active fan club — the public really did have a tendency to go feral over the most mundane gossip. For the most part these pages were harmless, if occasionally annoying — nothing that would’ve kicked up such a big fuss from MSBY’s most easy-going hitter.
Atsumu found the answer to his confusion as he arrived at the account’s latest post.
The image preview showed a couple standing on a street corner under an umbrella, huddled together to share the small patch of space sheltered from the rain. Even with his face partially hidden by the curve of the umbrella, the distinctive gray and black hair proved that it was undeniably Bokuto in the photo.
A slender hand wearing a narrow gold wedding band rested on his neck, and even though the rain slightly marred the quality of the photo, Atsumu could make out a smile on Akaashi’s face as he leaned in for a kiss. Atsumu had to commend the photographer’s skill — it really was a beautiful image that perfectly captured an intimate moment between the lovers.
At least, it would’ve been a wonderful photo, if their relationship was public knowledge.
Spotted: #12 Bokuto Koutarou with a married mystery lover on the streets of Osaka. Has the bachelor finally settled down, or is there foul play at hand? Just who is the man that stole our spiker’s heart, and who does that ring belong to?
4.2k Replies 317 Retweets 12.6k Likes
“Fuck,” Atsumu whispered as he opened the thread to scroll through the flood of responses.
Bokuto and Akaashi’s marriage was no secret among the members of the V-League, considering half of the conference knew the two since they first started dating in high school. If anything, most of the members of MSBY knew too much about the couple, since Bokuto took any opportunity to speak about how in love he was with his partner or share details about their personal life (that were often a little too personal for conversations between what were still technically work colleagues).
But when Bokuto’s career really started taking off, the couple had made the choice to keep the relationship private from the public. Akaashi was still building his reputation as a manga editor and, as Atsumu could see clearly in some of the replies on the post, certain… traditional sentiments that somehow still held sway in Japan could hinder Akaashi’s career growth. The two made an agreement to keep their romantic life private for the time being, at least until Akaashi got his first manga serialized, and Bokuto informed the league of their plan shortly after joining the pro circuit.
With just a few clicks, this rogue account had derailed their plan entirely.
@bokkunsbaby OH MY GOD!!!! I knew there was no way Bo was single, it was too good to be true ( ´•̥̥̥ω•̥̥̥` )
@v0lleyba11fan great. another player ruining the sport with their gay shit, no wonder the league is going to the dogs
@allthings_msby Does anyone know who that guy is??? We have to make sure he’s good enough for Bokuto!!!!
Atsumu closed the app and shoved his phone into his pocket, not sure if his blood pressure could withstand reading through any more of the replies. The grim atmosphere of the locker room was suffocating as the members of the team seethed in silence. After a few minutes of waiting on Bokuto’s return, Hinata’s weak voice cut through the quiet.
“What can we do?”
“We’ll get the league and JVA public relations teams on it right away,” Meian answered, ever the leader. “Hopefully they can get the post, if not the whole account, taken down and we’ll go from there.”
“It feels like the damage has been done, Cap.” Atsumu shook his head as he replied, heart twisting in his chest with the words. “There’s no way the photo hasn’t been saved or screenshotted by half the people who’ve seen it. You know how the fans get.” A wave of reluctant, murmured agreement spread through the room.
“I know, Atsumu — it may be out of our hands, but it can’t hurt to do the extra damage control.” Meian sighed, bringing a hand to his face to rub the crease between his eyebrows. “But that’s for the staff to figure out. All we can really do right now is offer our support to Bokuto. He’s going to need it.”
With nothing left to add besides a hum of understanding, and having a slightly calmer outlook on the situation, Atsumu grabbed the phone from his pocket and returned to the Twitter page. One comment on the post seemed to be gaining a lot of attention, the number of replies and likes growing before Atsumu’s eyes.
@jackalsfanclub How do we even know this account is legit? I mean, it looks like Bokuto, but who’s running the page? This photo could be shopped.
Atsumu knew that the image wasn’t doctored, but it wouldn’t hurt for people to think that — he sent a silent “thank you” into the universe to whichever of their fans was modding the account that left the comment. As he opened their tweet to read the full thread, hoping that more people would be agreeing with their take, he saw a new reply roll in.
@MSBY_Classified Let’s just say I have my sources. The photo’s legit. As for my identity, that’s one secret I’ll never tell — just call me Ninetails.
Atsumu rolled his eyes before lowering his phone. Of course the creator of an account designed to invade other people’s personal lives would have a pseudonym for protecting their own identity. He couldn’t stand hypocritical scum like that.
Over the next few minutes the Jackals slowly exited the locker room to head home — some to the sharehouse, and some of the other older members to their own homes and families. Atsumu was one of the last out, in no rush to get back to the MSBY complex. Plus, he didn’t know if Bokuto would be coming back to the locker room, and though he didn’t know what he could possibly say to comfort the spiker, he didn’t want to leave too early.
They’d joined the team at the same time, after all, and learned how to navigate the downfalls of their newfound fame together during their rookie season. Years later, Atsumu still considered Bokuto one of his closest friends, and his heart felt heavy in the silence of the locker room as he finally gathered up his things to leave.
Eventually he assumed that Bokuto had left to find Akaashi and made his way to the train station, wondering what other cruel surprises they’d face as the account grew.
The mood at morning practice the next day was, as expected, terrible. Coach Foster had given Bokuto the morning off, and even though he surely wouldn’t have been his usual high-spirited self had he attended, his absence was a depressing reminder of what had happened. Bokuto had sent a message in the group chat assuring everyone that he was okay (at least, as okay as he could be) that morning, but Atsumu couldn’t help but worry.
He returned to the sharehouse between training sessions to restock his gym bag and maybe even catch a quick nap before their afternoon lift, but all hopes of rest were dashed when his phone buzzed twice in quick succession. He checked the notifications to find the worst — new tweets from @MSBY_Classified, and a message from Foster telling them to come back to the gym an hour early.
Even without the extra sleep, Atsumu’s spirits lifted a little when he walked into the conference room adjacent to the court where Foster had instructed them to meet.
“Miya! It’s been too long.” As always, Kuroo Tetsurou cut a striking figure in his custom-tailored suit, his JVA employment badge peeking out from his chest pocket.
Out of all the corporate representatives that Atsumu had to deal with as part of his contract, he liked Kuroo the most. He didn’t seem to take himself too seriously, or treat him like some kind of product to be sold, like too many of the other JVA businessmen did. He pulled Kuroo into a crushing hug, careful not to wrinkle the lines of his jacket.
“I wish it were under better circumstances,” Atsumu said after breaking free of Kuroo’s grasp. “But I’m real glad to see ya. I’m assumin’ since you're here, this is about the Twitter account?” Kuroo sighed.
“Yeah, Foster wanted me to come in to give you an update and make sure you knuckleheads wouldn’t cause any trouble. This is a real mess. And I mean, of all people, starting with Bo? No offense to you or anyone else on the team, but god, if there was someone who didn’t deserve having to deal with this shit…”
“None taken,” Atsumu replied. Kuroo had a point — no one could compare to Bokuto when it came to earning good karma.
“Well, it seems like everyone’s here, so you might want to take a seat. We’ll catch up another time, yeah?” Atsumu looked around to find the rest of the team had filtered in while they chatted, with Foster and the assistant coaches huddled near the podium at the front of the room. He nodded and walked over to an empty seat next to Hinata, sliding into the chair as Kuroo took the stand.
“First, I’d like to thank you all for taking the time out of your busy schedules to be here. I understand this was pretty late notice.”
A few murmurs of agreement sounded through the room.
“I’m sure you all know why we’re here today. A fan, if you can call them that, has started breaching the privacy of your team members. As an organization, the JVA does not endorse this kind of behavior, and I assure you that our best people have been put to work in order to resolve the issue.”
Atsumu’s mind wandered as Kuroo moved through the rehearsed speech. His eyes traveled across the room and he saw Bokuto, dressed in sweats and wearing a cap to cover his trademark hairstyle. The other members of the “Monster Generation,” Sakusa and Hinata, sat quietly to his right with their full attention trained on Kuroo.
Meian was typing on his phone under the table, likely talking with his wife — the tweets that had gone out earlier that afternoon had leaked the address of their newly purchased home, so Atsumu couldn’t blame him for splitting his focus between that crisis and Kuroo’s presentation.
He hoped Meian wouldn’t have to find a new place. Apparently the kids had fallen in love with the home’s backyard, according to what he’d shared with the team after signing their realtor’s paperwork.
“... At this time, we ask that you refrain from providing any comment to the press or talking about the account on your own social media accounts. The Osaka police have also been contacted, and I’ll be able to provide updates on the case as they are shared with the JVA. I think we still have some time,” Kuroo looked at Foster, who nodded. “So I’d be happy to answer any questions you may have for me.”
Unsurprisingly, Hinata’s hand shot up first.
“How likely is it that they’re gonna catch the owner?” he said after Kuroo motioned for him to speak. “I mean, couldn’t they just make another account if we get this one shut down?”
“It’s hard to say,” Kuroo answered. “Apparently they’ve got a pretty powerful VPN in place, but the police will do their best.”
“What does Daichi think?”
Kuroo’s face flushed and he adjusted his collar, clearing his throat before replying. “Officer Sawamura isn’t on the case, it was deemed a … conflict of interest.”
“Damn,” Hinata said under his breath, leaning back into his seat.
Kuroo took a few more questions from other members of the team, but most of his responses felt canned. Either there was a glaring lack of information available, or the JVA had told him to keep a tight lid on it.
Atsumu knew that was just a feature of his job, but still, he wished the meeting could have given them all a little more peace of mind. It didn’t feel like enough to simply know the police and the JVA were trying to track down the culprit — he wanted the guarantee that his friends would be safe, and if he was being honest, retribution.
At the end of the meeting the team left the conference room as unsure as ever, the mood somber as they headed across the gym complex to the weight room.
The next week showed little improvement as more news leaked and the twitter’s follower count skyrocketed. There was no word from the JVA, either — apparently their search wasn’t making much headway.
“Alright, everyone,” Meian called out to the uncharacteristically quiet locker room after an especially tough practice. “Team meeting tonight.”
“Come on, can’t we just go home?”
“What, Foster didn’t get to yell at us enough already?”
Meian shook off Barnes and Inunaki’s protests, holding firm. “Foster isn’t calling the meeting, I am. We may not be able to help get involved with the investigation, but we have to do something about,” he paused. “This, or we’re going to lose every match this season. We’ll just do it at the sharehouse, 8 o’clock.”
The Jackals reluctantly grumbled their assent, knowing better than to try and talk their captain down once his mind was made up.
At 7:55 Atsumu left his bedroom, nodding to his teammates that were already in the sharehouse’s living room when he made his entrance. He fell into his usual spot on the left side of the living room’s largest couch, the cushions molding around his body with practiced ease.
He could feel a current of tension permeating the room, though that felt pretty typical after over a week of being terrorized by @MSBY_Classified . Being on edge was just the new standard.
Meian cleared his throat as the clock struck eight.
“I know I don’t have to tell you all what this is about, so I’ll get right into it. The team dynamic is completely fucked. Whoever is behind this account is making it impossible for us to get anything done.”
The group nodded before he continued.
“Some of us have been talking, and we may have the opportunity to take this into our own hands. Based on the information that’s been shared, it isn’t unreasonable to think that the account is being run by someone on the team.”
Atsumu raised his eyebrows. Did Meian really think it would help to pit the members of the team against each other? Atsumu thought that if anything, they should be trying to stick closer together, since they were the only ones that could understand the impact of the account’s harassment.
“We’ve narrowed it down to one strong possibility.”
Meian had to have lost it, that was the only explanation. Something in his brain must have cracked after his address got leaked, which was understandable considering the threat that posed to his family — but this was going too far.
Atsumu spun his head around the room to try and gauge the rest of his teammates’ reactions. He was sure that they’d feel the same way he did, that this was an insane approach to solving their problems.
Instead he was met with a wall of stares. Some of the faces looked angry, others disappointed, but there was one shared theme. All of them were looking directly at Atsumu.
“Atsumu,” Meian said carefully, slowly. “Is there anything you’d like to tell us?”
“Jesus, Meian, ya think I’m the one behind all of this? That I’d do somethin’ like that to any of y’all?”
Atsumu could feel his stomach flipping as his thoughts started running a mile a minute. He wasn’t sure if he felt more outraged, or betrayed, or confused, or some combination of all three plus a million other emotions that he couldn’t even name. He started to sweat under the collar of his hoodie.
“We’re just going off the information at hand, Atsumu,” Inunaki said, not bothering to mask the venom in his voice. “You’re one of the only ones who hasn’t gotten targeted yet.”
“The account hasn’t even been up for two weeks! Who knows what they’ve got stored up for me, ya have to be jokin’.”
“They go by Ninetails,” Bokuto interrupted quietly. “Inarizaki’s mascot is a fox, isn’t it?”
Atsumu turned to face the other end of the couch where Bokuto sat hunched over himself, staring at the ground. He refused to meet Atsumu’s eyes.
“Bokkun,” Atsumu said, praying his voice wouldn’t break. “I would never do this to you or Keiji, ya have to know that.”
He saw the spiker close his eyes, but Bokuto stayed resolute, refusing to lift his head.
“So what, you all think I’m some evil mastermind? Why would I try to sabotage my own team, that doesn’t make any sense!”
“We were hoping you’d tell us that,” Meian answered. “You don’t mind if we take a look around, do you?”
“Have at it,” Atsumu spat. “You're not gonna find anything.”
Inunaki and Tomas got up from their seats, Tomas leaving the living area to go through Atsumu’s room. Inunaki stopped when he stood next to the couch and held out his hand.
“Your phone, Atsumu. Unlocked.”
Atsumu struggled to type in his passcode, his eyes starting to fill with tears of frustration. Why was this happening to him? How could his teammates, his friends, think that he was capable of something so terrible?
While Tomas and Inunaki conducted their search, Atsumu looked around the room frantically, trying to find at least one friendly face in what felt like a den of lions.
He turned to the small redhead on his right, in the same spot on the couch where he always sat, at Atsumu’s side.
“Shoyo,” he said softly. “Please tell me ya believe me, Sho.”
“It was the same day, Atsumu. I told you about the Sao Paolo trade and they leaked it that afternoon. You were one of the only ones who knew.”
Fuck. Atsumu wouldn’t cry. He wouldn’t beg for Shoyo to believe him, for everyone to forget what they saw as damning evidence and take him back with open arms.
He wouldn’t break.
“Nothing in his bedroom,” Tomas said when he came back, breaking the heavy silence that had settled over the living room.
“Phone’s clean, too.” Inunaki tossed Atsumu’s cell toward the couch carelessly.
“I told ya it would be,” Atsumu said tersely. “Are y’all happy now? I told ya it wasn’t me.”
Meian leaned back in his chair, looking almost disappointed. Atsumu knew that he was probably just upset that his plan to catch the culprit and stop @MSBY_Classified in its tracks had fallen through, leaving them all at risk, but fuck if it didn’t feel personal.
“I guess that settles it for the night. We’ll just have to let the police continue working.”
“They’ll catch him soon enough, whoever it is.” Inunaki’s eyes didn’t leave Atsumu as he spoke. “He’ll get what he deserves.”
Atsumu retreated to his room as the meeting came to its end, desperately needing time alone to process what had just happened.
He knew that even though they hadn’t found any conclusive evidence, most of the team still believed he was behind the account — that was clear enough from the way Inunaki spoke to him before making his exit.
Atsumu had to admit that the limited information they had about @ MSBY_Classified ’s identity did seem to inexplicably point at him, between the kitsune reference, the nature of the secrets being posted, and the fact that he still hadn’t been the focus of any new tweets.
He stared at the ceiling of his room from the bed, knowing that sleep wouldn’t come no matter how hard he tried. Atsumu’s world was falling apart by no fault of his own, and whoever was behind his destruction seemed to have no problem dragging the rest of his friends down with him.
It couldn’t be coincidence that even Atsumu’s closest friends were being led to believe that he was responsible, that all the pieces came together to paint the wrong picture. Really, there was only one possibility.
Atsumu was being framed.