Chapter Text
The air on the court was strong and buzzing through Miya Atsumu’s ears when he arrived for his first training in the MSBY black jackals. He had been working with personal trainers and practice teams, but this was the first time he actually entered the V. League with a team of his own. He already knew a few people there: Hinata Shōyō, an incredible wing spiker who he had competed against in high school and Bokuto Kōtarō, another strong spiker who he crossed paths with a few times. But there was one person he remembered quite well, though he hadn't seen him in a few years: Sakusa Kiyoomi, an amazing wing spiker who he had lost to before. He remembered his goddamn annoying attitude, his rude comments and that one time he asked about Inarizaki’s hygene; who does he think he is? They didn’t even speak that much in high school, but it was enough to make Atsumu hate him.
As he entered the gym, he could see him doing whatever hygene crap he was doing. All those lost matches, all those comments: he was going to return them to him.
“Kiyoomi-kun” he exclaimed as he sat near him, giving him enough personal space for the ravenette to not complain. “Long time no see,” he said with a smirk.
Sakusa was wearing a dark face mask covering his expression, though you could tell he didn’t feel pleased. “Miya” he said with a bold low tone, nodding and ignoring him. It was obvious he had no interest in continuing the conversation, but Atsumu did anyway.
“What’s with the face?” he dared. “Ya’ look like you’re preparing for a funeral; ya’ sure you’re at the right place?”
Sakusa glanced up, his expression unchanging: “I’m here to train, not to entertain you, Miya.” He said, ending the conversation.
Training began: they were paired up for passing drills and Sakusa was obligated to take his face mask off. For some reason, he got stuck with Atsumu and this one took the chance to annoy him:
“D’ya really carry that dumb mask all around? For what? And please don’t say germs, it’s not an option,” he started.
“Well, apparently, it is, and the only dumb thing here is your reasoning.” he answered, dryly.
“Oh, come on, why d’ya have to be so serious all the time. Lighten up a little! It’s just volleyball!” Atsumu continued.
“And you can’t seem to shut up, can you? Some of us prefer to focus,” Sakusa responded with a hint of annoyance.
“I’m sorry: am I deconcentrating you? Ya know, I’ve heard a lot about you lately, ‘The germaphobe with skills’. What’s next? Are ya’ gonna start wiping down the volleyball?” the blonde teased.
“Better a germaphobe than a loudmouth with no skills at all,” he answered, but the insults didn’t get into his skin, at least not yet.
“Nah, yer’ probably jealous cause’ I’m the one getting all the attention. Everyone loves a little flair, Omi!” Atsumu continued pushing as he noticed a glimpse of irritation on Sakusa’s expression when he called him by the nickname.
“Keep talking, Miya. I’m sure your ego will deflate once we start playing for real.”
“Such little faith in me, Omi-kun…!”. Atsumu enjoyed making the dark-haired feel so annoyed, it was like he was returning to good ol’ days when it was the contrary. On the opposite hand, Sakusa felt overwhelmed and irritated: they had only spent little time together and the blonde had already managed to get to him. “It is going to be a long training session," he told himself.
Later on, in a water pause, Kiyoomi sat in a corner, sanitizing his hands. He remembered putting it on when he had to clean his hands, and the feeling of getting rid of germs always managed to clam him down. He knew it wouldn’t do much, but it was enough to make him feel better about the whole situation.
“… Really, hand sanitizer? To training? We’re going to shower later, idiot!” Atsumu provoked “That’s not phobia, that’s a goddamn obsession; ya’ gonna wrap yourself in bubble wrap next time or what?”
“You really can’t shut up for more than five seconds, can’t you? Your voice feels like a mosquito in my ear,” he glared.
“And what are ya’ gonna do about that? Bring your own alcohol to training and disinfect it with it?” smirked Atsumu.
“I’d rather bring a mute button for you, you’re insufferable,” Sakusa ended, storming away from him.
The rest of the training kept on like that, Atsumu being a jerk and Sakusa scolding away. The blonde wouldn’t stop teasing and the ravenette didn’t want it to get into his head. Once the session finished (relief for Sakusa), they began packing up to leave, giving Atsumu one last chance to chat.
“So, Omi-Omi, same time tomorrow, huh? I’ll bring the flair, ya’ bring the… whatever it is ya’ bring.” he grinned.
Turning his back against him, Sakusa responded:
“I’ll bring my skills. You can bring your ego, or perhaps leave it at home.”
As the blonde walked away, he chuckled to himself, knowing their rivalry was just beginning. Sakusa watched him go, shaking his head, but feeling a glimpse of irritation all over his chest. If that’s what Miya was trying to provoke, then he achieved it.