Chapter Text
“I finally found you, my missing puzzle piece
I’m complete.”
— Teenage Dream, Katy Perry
——
Miya Atsumu is never more than 5 feet away from Miya Osamu. Everything they do, they do it together. Everything they own, they share. That was The Rule.
The Rule had always just existed, but Atsumu was never really aware of it until elementary school when he received an off-course serve straight to the face courtesy of the teenagers Osamu had always been eyeing intently on their walk back home after school.
“‘Tsumu! Did ya see that? The guy, he- he hit the ball, and it went WHOOSH and it curved in the air! Could ya believe it, ‘Tsumu?” Osamu’s eyes were gleaming as he replicated the path of the ball in the air, sitting legs crossed on the lower deck of their double decker bed.
“ ‘Course I can, ‘Samu, I saw it comin’ at me with my very own eyes.” Atsumu was sprawled on the floor, holding an ice pack begrudgingly to the blooming bruise between his nose and cheek.
“Real cool, innit? So won’tcha please go fer that trial with me? Ya’know, the one I showed ya a while ago?” For the umpteenth time that week, Osamu produced the flyer from his pocket, worn and torn from him constantly folding and unfolding it, and held it out above Atsumu expectantly.
After another week’s worth of persuasion from Osamu, Atsumu was convinced to drag himself to their school’s volleyball trial practice despite his obvious lack of interest (which was only further fueled by the unfortunate encounter leaving him with a bruise that lasted for two weeks). However, when he delivered the perfect spike over the net, the euphoric feeling of success overpowered his initial reluctance.
That day, quite a few revelations dawned on Atsumu. Firstly, he finally understood The Rule — whether that rule was a blessing or a curse, the twins would both form their own opinion in time to come. More importantly, Atsumu realised that he was in love for the first time at the ripe age of 10. Volleyball, the naïve boy’s first love.
Somehow, that love had somehow also manifested as a catalyst. The Rule, which used to be steady as a rock, was also subject to erosion with time. Just as memories, relationships and experiences fade from the recesses of our memory day by day, cracks have festered. All it took was that one catalyst, one event for The Rule to come crumbling down.
——
How did Atsumu always land himself on the steps of Block B Staircase 6, sprawled on the landing just paces away from the rooftop, chewing on his pencil with his notebook in his lap every afternoon? Perhaps that was one of the greatest mysteries of the universe. Perhaps it was simply because Osamu always insisted that the cafeteria was too crowded and he ‘was physically unable to dine in such a rowdy and unrefined location’. Either way, his brain had short circuited earlier trying to decipher the hieroglyphs presented in what was supposed to be his mathematics homework, so he ended up listening in to what Osamu and his ‘not my boyfriend what led ya to thinking that’.
“Say, SunaRin, whaddya say we drop by the shop for meat buns after training?” Osamu, staring at the meat bun in his hand, turned to Suna who only stared back at him in bewilderment.
“You quite literally have one in your hands right now.” Was his succinct reply as his eyebrows furrowed with a frown, before busying himself by spinning the pen in his hand. Atsumu thought it was cool, the way it became a blur of colour, like a volleyball spinning mid-air. He himself could only twirl it slowly between his fingers. He’d have to get Suna to teach him one day. “And I have a test tomorrow.”
Osamu took a big bite of said meat bun. “Shrew ze zest.” A very odd thing for someone like Osamu to say under normal circumstances, but considering food was now involved, the stakes were much higher than they used to be.
“He means ‘screw the test’.” Atsumu looked up from his notebook, attempting to spin his pencil like Suna but gave up after one rotation and ended up twirling it. “And if y’all are done flirting, I was drafting out some movement diagrams — here ya go.” He turned the notebook right side up for Suna and Osamu.
Lifting up one hand to stifle a laugh (when Atsumu could tell it was really to hide the growing pink hue of his cheeks), Osamu declared, mouth still half full, “And ‘ere we hab our new cabchian, sho hardworkin—”
“Don’t talk when you’re eating, Osamu.” Suna glared pointedly (or maybe that was just his resting face, Atsumu figured). “You’ll choke.”
“Gee, how doting. What if we worked on the movement diagram?” Atsumu deadpanned, “and we’ll get yer buns after, so save allat lovey-dovey whatnot fer later.”
Osamu grinned gleefully, swallowing the last bit of his meat bun before casting an expectant look at Suna who sported a look that could only mean he was thinking hard. Contemplating all his past life decisions, perhaps, particularly the moment when he decided to befriend the Miya twins.
“As long as it comes out of your own pocket.” Suna muttered with reluctance, before they fell into a mutual yet comfortable silence, the trio staring at the notebook (Atsumu had now moved on to sketching small foxes at the pristine white untouched corner of the page).
“Diagram looks good. So are we goin’ for those meat buns later?” Somehow, Osamu was always able to bring the topic back to food no matter how far they strayed from it.
Suna stared at his bare left wrist, blatantly ignoring what Osamu had just asked. “My, look at the time, I should get changed. See ya two at practice.”
Without a backward glance, Suna picked up his bag of gym clothes and got up, leaving Osamu gaping in the dust, looking between Atsumu and Suna’s figure that was growing ever smaller by the second, eager to disappear before Osamu could open his mouth to protest about not having enough money to buy meat buns and adding to the 5480 yen he already owed Suna.
“…Tsumu, I get what it feels like to be ditched now.” Osamu sniffled, wiping a fake tear as he moved across the small landing into Atsumu’s lap, making a show of burying his face in his brother’s chest.
“Yer a massive crybaby, ya know. And I’m the younger twin.” Atsumu grumbled as he ran his fingers through Osamu’s mop of grey hair. “Eugh, did ya not wash it? Yer hair’s oily.”
“Shut it, Tsumu. Can’tcha see I’m grievously wounded by my dearest darlin’ SunaRin? He didn’t even tell me if we could get those meat buns!” Osamu slumped into Atsumu’s arms like a giant ragdoll without a single bone in his body.
Atsumu used his spare hand that was not being unfortunately crushed by the weight of his brother to poke Osamu’s nose accusingly. “So that’s why ya need to make a move on yer dearest darlin’ SunaRin. The whole team knows what ya are at this point. It’s just you and him, oblivious as ever.”
“Ya think so?” Osamu looked up to judge Atsumu’s sincerity by his expression, being hesitant at first.
Atsumu let out a sigh of air, looking up to avoid Osamu’s attention, instead focusing on the wall in front of him. It was painted a gentle baby blue where the paint had dried midway while dripping down the wall, forming a drop of blue paint somewhat resembling a teardrop. He ran over it with his finger absentmindedly while his other hand was still running through and playing with his brother’s hair. “If ya had been payin’ attention, ya would’ve noticed that he did agree to get yer meat buns.”
Immediately, all traces of Osamu’s mock tantrum were gone. “Ya really think so, Tsumu?”
“I don’t think, ‘Samu, I know.” Atsumu ruffled the by-now nest of hair that Osamu had messed up earlier somehow.
“…Wait. Samu, I didn’t mean to literally chase him!” Atsumu’s eyes widened as Osamu bounced up quite literally and bolted in the direction Suna had headed at full force. If only he could’ve put this much effort into stamina training every week, was Atsumu’s final thought before he sprinted down the stairs to prevent his brother from doing anything too reckless with Suna… again.
——
Training began with the team gathering on the gym floor, Atsumu (who was staring at a blue bird perched on the branch visible from the gym window) sitting next to Osamu (who was trying to get Atsumu’s attention by pinching his thigh) sitting next to Suna (who was the only one of the three actually paying attention to what the coach was saying).
“Now, I won’t take up too much of your time with this announcement.” The coach’s words Atsumu was now directing his gaze towards the blank whiteboard, valiantly attempting to decipher the faded marks left from the previous session. The word “announcement” prompted Osamu to twist the bit of muscle he had been pinching from Atsumu’s thigh, eliciting a small yelp of pain from the latter as he finally tuned his ears to fully focus on the coach.
“Atsumu-san has been invited to participate in the All-Japan Youth Intensive Training Camp.” Inarizaki’s coach then directed his attention to Atsumu, who by now was fully focused on the briefing. “Now, Atsumu-san,” he was using the whiny tone that adults liked to use, where it sounded as if they were expecting the listener to complete the sentence, “I hope you understand that although it is a high honor—”
“Are ya sure there hasn’t been a mistake?” Atsumu’s voice went awfully quiet. Too quiet, in fact, for someone who was often speaking at a volume higher than the average decibel of a gym full of noisy teenage boys. One thing stayed the same, however — Atsumu was the centre of attention when the team was practicing, and he was now as well, as he interrupted the coach mid-speech.
A cold silence descended the gym. Suna shot a glance at Atsumu, who blatantly ignored him as he stood up from his seat, the whole team craning their necks to give him a collective puzzled look. “Are ya sure I’m the only one invited?”
“Atsumu-san, being invited to the training camp is a privilege, not a right.” There it was again, that slight upwards lilt coupled with the gaze of ‘I’m right and you’re wrong’ that ticked Atsumu off. “I’m sure that they went through—”
“I don’t wanna hear all that nonsense. I asked, are ya sure I’m the only one invited.” A full stop, void of that light cadence punctuated by a question mark. Not a question, but a statement. Not to seek information, but to make an assertion. “So get right to the point—”
“Atsumu-san, listen to me—”
“Stop beating around the bush and just tell me already—”
“Sit down, Atsumu-kun.” A soft yet commanding voice pierced through the silence. The only voice that Atsumu would willingly listen to in this gym. It held a sense of authority, not sugary sweet as if he were trying to coax Atsumu but hard, rigid steel, pressing down with force and no false pretenses.
Atsumu exhaled, sitting back down on the floor with his legs curled in the fetal position defensively. “Sorry, Kita-san.” A soft whisper escaped his pursed lips in resignation at his captain’s orders.
As he sat down, Atsumu gained some sense of spatial awareness. The entire gym, which had been blanketed with small chatter just moments ago, was now dead silent — or rather, silenced, by Atsumu’s “outburst” followed by Kita’s stern order. No one dared to defy the two of them. Inarizaki’s captain and their best player. Without either one of them, the team was still undoubtedly good, just not the powerhouse that they currently were. This meant that they held a certain command in the team — power to seize the attention of hyperactive 16 to 18 year old teenage boys, a feat that even many educators struggle to achieve. Atsumu realised all of this as he sat down, a blank expression on his face.
“Tsumu! What’s gotten into ya brain?” Osamu chided quietly. “You, me, talk after training.” With an accusing finger pointing at Atsumu and his eyebrows furrowed, Osamu huffed out.
The briefing dragged on for what seemed like another hour for Atsumu, who was now back to gazing mindlessly at the bird he found before. As the coach droned on and on about new formations, Atsumu watched the bird as it hopped from branch to branch, gazing off towards the sky. It took a few more hops before it stopped, having arrived on a sturdier branch. With a flap of its wings, it soared into the sky, leaving Atsumu alone with his thoughts. Was it nervous to venture out from its base? Was it excited at the prospect of new sights? Was it regretting its decision after it was too late to turn back? Atsumu wondered what the bird had felt as it took to the sky.
Atsumu wondered what it would feel like to soar.
——
When they got off of practice that day, Osamu made a show out of scolding Atsumu for his outburst at their coach, even going as far as to cancel his plans with Atsumu to get his beloved meat buns.
(Later, Atsumu learnt that Suna and Osamu still went to the convenience store without him anyway. He wasn’t sure whether to feel angry that his own brother and best friend had effectively ditched him, or proud that his baby brother got to have some alone time with his big fat old crush.)
Atsumu still had to suffer the humiliation of walking home alone without Suna or Osamu by his side, earning him a few sympathetic glances from the rest of the team and a particularly unsettling glare from Kita as Atsumu was packing his things unceremoniously and was about to swing his bag across his shoulder and walk out of the changing room quietly.
“Atsumu-kun.” Kita called right as Atsumu’s hand hovered over the doorknob.
Sucking in a breath of anticipation, Atsumu forced himself to contort his facial muscles into what was socially accepted as a “smile” and turn around. “Yes, Kita-san?”
“Ya don’t need to look so uptight, Atsumu-kun. I just wanted to talk with ya about… a few things.” Kita glanced to a corner of the changing room with empty benches (not that there was anyone in the room in the first place). Atsumu took his cue and relaxed, moving towards the benches as he made himself comfy sitting on one of them while Kita took the seat a decent, respectable and proper 10 centimeters away from him.
Kita Shinsuke, ever the prim and proper captain. Once, in Atsumu’s freshman year, he walked into Kita bent over the school toilet scrubbing frantically. When asked what he was doing by Atsumu, the former simply replied with “fulfilling my duty as a student of the school.” Atsumu couldn’t imagine voluntarily cleaning his own toilet — the school communal toilets was another story. Although he had been a benchwarmer for his entire life, Kita was chosen for this exact reason to be the captain of Inarizaki that would, hopefully, lead them to securing victory in the Inter-High Nationals.
The moment Kita turned his gaze to look at Atsumu, the latter felt himself freeze up before his piercing eyes. It wasn’t the warm gaze that he was used to receiving from Kita (being the star player of the team and most likely Kita’s favourite kouhai, but we don’t talk about that here), but a cold, sharp one that made Atsumu feel like he had just committed a federal crime and was being convicted as Japan’s most wanted man — and Kita was not playing the good cop in this round of interrogations. “What made ya have that outburst just now when talking to coach? It’s not like ya.”
Atsumu fiddled with his thumbs, looking down at the fresh blister that he’d have to treat when he got home later, a result of setting the ball too hard during practice a few moments ago. “Sorry, Kita-san. I know I already apologised, but I’ll say it again. I didn’t mean to be rude, I just— when I was called and ‘Samu wasn’t. I thought there was a mistake. I thought we would just…”
“Always be together?” Kita offered, seeing how Atsumu was struggling to find the words to complete his sentence.
“Yeah, always be together.” Atsumu nodded forlornly, his volume dropping down a notch. When he finally braved up and lifted his head to meet Kita’s gaze, he was met with Kita instead staring blankly at the opposite lockers, lost in thought.
“Atsumu-san, have you ever thought of what yer gonna do once ya graduate and get outta ‘ere?” Kita hesitated before asking, changing the topic rather abruptly (in Atsumu’s opinion).
Atsumu looked at the same general direction that Kita was spacing out at, hoping to pick up some straws and figure out what was going through his captain’s mind as of late to be asking such a question. “No, I haven’t really given it much thought.”
“And do ya have any inkling of what Osamu-kun wants to do?” Kita probed.
“Oh. I… guess we could keep playing volleyball together? I mean, we’re both pretty decent at it.” Atsumu suggested.
“Ya guess?” Kita turned to look at Atsumu, and Atsumu turned back to finally meet his gaze properly for the first time in the whole conversation.
“…I dunno. But personally, I don’t think ‘Samu’s gonna wanna keep doin’ volleyball.” Atsumu muttered slowly, as the puzzle pieces in his mind were starting to fall in all the right places — but somehow, they felt like they didn’t belong at the same time. As if the pieces fit together, but the image that they produced wasn’t what Atsumu had envisioned his whole life.
Doing volleyball together with his twin, whether it was during elementary, middle, high school or beyond. That was the plan.
Well, with how things were turning out, things certainly weren’t working in Atsumu’s favour.
“Precisely. Which is why I think you’d make a great captain, Atsumu-kun.” Kita placed a hand on Atsumu’s shoulder. The contact made Atsumu’s cool skin warm up, a gentle warmth that spread from the point of contact throughout Atsumu’s chest.
Atsumu just stared at Kita in disbelief, eyes wide and his mouth slightly agape. “…Are ya sure yer not forcing yourself to choose me, Kita-san?”
Kita shook his head gently, a soft yet wistful smile on his lips. “I think you understand the individual strengths and needs of the team best, Atsumu-kun. I originally considered Osamu-kun as well, but…”
This time, it was Atsumu’s turn to complete Kita’s sentence. “ ‘Samu lacks that drive in him to lead Inarizaki.”
Kita nodded. “See — this is what I mean. Ya know the team members well, and I trust that you can bring this team to victory, maybe even bring them to Nationals.”
“Don’t say that, Kita-san! Ya make it sound like we’re not gonna try this year as well.” Atsumu frowned. He understood what Kita meant, and if such an honour was bestowed upon him by his beloved captain, he would gladly accept the informal title of “captain-in-training”.
“Either way, I prepared this book. I read it too, before I became captain. I think it’ll help ya in some way or another.” Kita gave Atsumu’s shoulder another gentle yet reassuring pat before turning around to dig in his bag before producing a small book, titled “Who Moved My Cheese?”
An intriguing title indeed. No harm in giving it a try, since Kita recommended it anyway. “Thanks, Kita-san — for this opportunity, and for the book. I’ll find time to read it and return it to you next week.”
“No need to rush with the book, Atsumu-kun. But I expect to meet you for a while longer after training every day to have a small chat with you, okay?” Kita smiled that soft, gentle smile that Atsumu was used to. The smile that meant everything was going to turn out alright, because Kita had already planned everything out beforehand. The smile that let Atsumu relax because everything was in good hands.
Atsumu nodded and stashed the book in his bag. “If that’s all, I’ll leave first, Kita-san.”
“I hope you think about what you might do in the future.” Kita waved at him as Atsumu headed towards the changing room door. “Have fun at the training camp,” he added just as Atsumu opened the door to leave, shouting a word of gratitude as he disappeared down the hall.
——
As Atsumu walked down the familiar path back home, he thought hard about what Kita had said. Truly, he had always taken his brother’s existence for granted — he would always have a spiker that he was familiar with, who’s patterns and playstyle he knew like the back of his hand.
But nothing lasts forever. Perhaps, the invitation was a sign. A sign that he should break free from Miya Osamu. Always the louder, the more needy, the less desirable twin. Osamu, driven by talent, versus Atsumu, who was driven by passion and hard work. Whether it was in volleyball or academics, people gravitated towards Osamu.
Perhaps it was because he had been naturally more gifted, more talented as a kid. Atsumu was always the slower one. Not dumb by any means — just not as “bright” as his twin. That was the word that the adults always used. If Osamu was the light, then Atsumu had lived his life in Osamu’s shadow.
But from that moment forward, he made a resolute decision. The invitation that came to him, and only him — not Osamu — was a sign that his hard work paid off. All the years of lagging behind had caught him up to his brother, and this was the first step he needed to take in order to satisfy that inner craving that he had always buried deep within him. The competitive flame he had been forced to snuff out as a kid has been reignited. Most importantly, Atsumu wanted to win the race against Osamu. Whether it was in academics, or likeability, or in this case volleyball — Atsumu strived, he needed to be better at something. That invitation was a sign that Atsumu needed to change The Rule.
A sign it was, and from that day, Miya Atsumu was reborn.
——
“You’re falling about
You took a left off Last Laugh Lane
Just sounding it out
But you’re never coming back again”
— Fluorescent Adolescent, Arctic Monkeys
(edit — 08.02.2025 made some formatting changes bc i forgot to put some parts in italics whoops!)
(edit — 10.02.2025 i forgot to put the lyrics at the end :skull emoji:)