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There wasn’t a duo out there that could ever hope to compare to the Miya Twins. The two were inseparable – both on and off the court. Their ambitions and their dreams relied on one another, constantly matching each others’ plays in order to snag a win from the enemy team before they could even process what was going on. Atsumu was almost always Osamu’s designated setter – and it was only Osamu who could perfectly keep up with Atsumu’s plays. No one could split up those two – and anyone on their team frankly didn’t want to. They were unrivalled and unchallenged, bringing forth a new way to play volleyball with both skill and style.
Osamu was the cool-headed, logical one who’d always have to scold his brother whenever he’d get a little too passionate. Atsumu was the one who was quick on his feet and quicker with his thinking – managing to set to both his brother and others from insane distances with an insanely far range. Playing volleyball against only one of the Miya Twins felt incomplete, because so many of their playstyles relied on the other to know exactly what was going on. It was never just Atsumu or just Osamu. It’d be weird – unnatural. It wouldn’t make sense, and it’d frankly be insanely confusing above all else.
…Then Osamu quit playing volleyball in order to seize something for himself and no one else for the very first time. He’d broken the news to Atsumu a little before they graduated, and a fight between the two soon broke out. So many signs pointed to the Miya Twins going professional together. Atsumu couldn’t stand the thought of playing volleyball without his brother, because that’s just how everything had always been. Without realizing it – he got attached to the familiarity and the support of Osamu with just about all that he did. He felt the subconscious need for his brother to be by his side.
Throughout Osamu’s entire volleyball career – everything was done to make sure Atsumu got ahead. He ended up having to be the more collected of the two not by choice, but because that’s exactly the kind of thing that Atsumu needed to keep himself going at his rapidly evolving pace. Osamu became a spiker because he was almost the only one that could truly keep up with Atsumu. He played volleyball not to pursue his own goals, but to make sure that Atsumu had somebody from the sidelines to keep him happy. He was just as bitter about losing as anyone else – but it was Atsumu who lingered and constantly fought to better himself to rise up again in the next match the two played together.
Atsumu was the one who first fell silent when Osamu finally managed to spew all of this through a face coated with determination and a newfound sense of selfishness that Osamu previously lacked. It was that same selfishness that Atsumu always carried along with him – the very selfishness that was the basis of his pride and his confidence as a volleyball player. Atsumu couldn’t bring himself to continue fighting back, but he slapped his brother on the back and managed to snicker while quivering over a shaky, teary breath. “Your loss, ‘Samu. You’ll just have to watch me from the big screen when Atsumu Miya’s the talk of Japan!” promised Atsumu. Osamu stifled a chuckle and shook his head, sighing. “Yeah, right. Since you’re gonna be such a hotshot, how about you start paying double for the riceballs?” teased Osamu, failing to hold back his laughter when Atsumu took him seriously.
Ever since then, Atsumu trained to become somebody beyond his family name. He worked and he trained and he laughed and he prayed and he continued his endless fight against everyone who had the audacity to look him in the eye and doubt what Atsumu could do. He cared little for the ravaging opinions of the public and he never took the people calling him insane to heart. He knew that he was passionate and determined to become a professional – and if he didn’t have Osamu with him as his other half on the court – then so be it. Atsumu would surpass the legacy he’s built for himself to become somebody new. He’d defy the expectations he put on himself to emerge into somebody who could continuously change and adapt to everything laid out to him. Atsumu Miya fought himself and his instincts to discover who he was in the world he crafted without Osamu constantly right behind him.
The two grew up and walked their separate paths all while spending twice as much time together when they had the free time to. Osamu kept himself busy taking cooking courses, and it was Atsumu who could come home to freshly made riceballs after a long day of practice. When they graduated, Atsumu also decided to start taking himself seriously and to discover just what kind of person he was without the backbone keeping him upright.
It took the boy so, so many years before he realized and manifested his full potential. Match after match, training camp after training camp… There was always something ‘off’ about Atsumu and the way he played. It was clear that deep down in his heart, barricaded by self-centered confidence, Osamu was part of that beating core. But, that was the thing. Osamu was nothing but a part of it. It was easy to fill in a gap, and it was simple enough to replace something that went missing. When it came to Osamu on the court – it was no one and nothing but Atsumu and his passion that was at his core. He was borrowing the love of another just to push himself to keep on playing volleyball, and when he realized this, Osamu had the gall to quit right then and there. Funnily enough, nothing made him happier. Osamu discovered himself and only grew to love his brother even more because of it.
By 21, Atsumu could finally comfortably admit that he was ready to face the world of professional volleyball with independence and a reborn greed for the spotlight. He signed a contract with the MSBY Black Jackals, earning himself a spot on the starting lineup shortly after getting formally accommodated with the team. The familiar faces of Bokuto and Sakusa allowed Atsumu to feel a lot more comfortable – and it was easy to find his footing and unleash his new skills soon after. He didn’t realize it at the time (because Shoyo was either still a third year or still in Brazil – he forgot), but Hinata’s future presence as a team member would prove to be yet another catalyst for the revolutionary serve-star that was Atsumu Miya.
The Jackals were a strong, A-tier team that had a lot going for them. Their practices were always in sync, and everyone was in almost-perfect coordination with one another. There was no one who could match Bokuto’s spikes, and Sakusa’s instincts were top-notch as the team’s outside hitter. Every player had a role to fulfill, and Atsumu’s was the setter. He was absolutely thrilled to be trying out new techniques and playstyles, and the absence of Osamu soon became nothing more than a passing thought whenever Atsumu had too much free time on his hands.
A couple weeks later – Atsumu wore his uniform for the first time. He sent a picture of it to his brother, and Osamu had responded with a few star-eyed emojis and a congratulatory comment. He sent a picture of his latest recipe in return, earning just about the exact same reaction from Atsumu. The two were busy with their own lives and couldn’t always talk to each other daily, but these small interactions only grew to become all the more valuable.
Another few days passed, and it was announced that the team would be playing their first official match with Atsumu. This would be the very match that debuted the phoenix who rose from his ashes – the set specialist who chose to play selfishly in the role that almost demanded he listen to his teammates above all else. Atsumu was ecstatic, training and working day in and day out to make sure his plays were practically flawless. He didn’t necessarily overwork himself by any means, but it was clear to tell that Atsumu’s determination surpassed anything he’d ever felt before this moment.
The day of the match was nothing if not a spectacle. The amusement and the enthusiasm brought by the world’s eyes on Atsumu was almost exhilarating – but he did also hear his fair share of insults hurled his way before he even got the chance to show everything he was made of. While something like this should’ve bothered him – this was Atsumu we were talking about. If there was one thing he could forget about, it was the opinionated nonsense of a few angry posers. Atsumu had his eyes set on what truly mattered: a win. A win so bold and so empowering that everyone would have no choice but to see the kind of player Atsumu was after going M.I.A post-graduation. He wanted to be known as the man he was – not the man he used to be. Not the man that he could’ve been had his brother stuck around with him. Atsumu Miya couldn’t possibly grow any prouder of himself.
Atsumu was quick to enter his element the moment he stepped foot on the court and the alarms that signified the start of a match rang. The familiar squeaking of shoes against the ground was a sound that he’d long since missed – and the excitement of it all was more than enough for Atsumu to keep a smile on his face throughout the entirety of the game. His sets and serves were twice as strong as anyone remembered, and the push-and-shove of a tense game kept Atsumu’s selfish drive wanting more. He wanted to fall behind so that he could catch up and show everyone that he was indeed him. This was the Atsumu Miya that disregarded his past – the one who disregarded the memories in favor of the future he had ahead of himself all because Osamu was the one who took the first step.
…Osamu. Atsumu told him about the fact he was playing his first match (why wouldn’t he), but he never got a clear response as to whether Osamu could come and watch him or not. The onigiri shop was still small and there were only a handful of employees, and all of them still needed Osamu’s training before they could even hope to respect the recipes that Osamu had crafted over the years. The anticipation was more or less nerve-wracking than it was thrilling, but Atsumu didn’t have the time to dawdle around and dwell over it. He’d immersed himself in his work to the point that he couldn’t think about Osamu not because he didn’t want to – but because there was so much on Atsumu’s plate that he didn’t exactly have much free time.
Atsumu found himself casting glances towards the hundreds or thousands of people in the audience – looking for the grey hair that he subconsciously longed to see. However, these looks barely lasted a second until Atsumu had to get his head back in the game. His performance was extraordinary – surpassing and defying everything that everybody had believed about him in exactly the way he’d hoped. He wasn’t just a prodigy of any kind – he was a professional. He was a volleyball player who took himself seriously and a setter who knew exactly what to do when the going gets rough. He knew not to underestimate his opponents, but he knew not to manically overestimate his own abilities either. Maybe it was that small detail that symbolized just how far Atsumu’s gotten all on his own.
Before he knew it – the alarms rang throughout the court again and the squeaking stopped, followed up by the sounds of cheering and screaming that echoed in Atsumu’s ears. He looked to the scoreboard and shot his fist upward when he realized this was his first match and his first win with the Jackals. The team wrapped their arms around each other, looking to their supporters while bowing in thanks and breathing heavy sighs of relief. Atsumu used the opportunity to look for Osamu once again – and alas – he couldn’t find him amongst the madmen who were throwing up confetti and the team’s merch in celebration.
Atsumu was the first who went back to the locker room post-match. He sat on the bench as his leg shook, pulling out his phone from his bag and calling Osamu. The tone lingered – and Atsumu hung up when he realized that Osamu probably wasn’t going to answer. He sighed and held his head up with his hands – elbows resting on his knees. He’d spent so much of his life working towards being Atsumu, but there was something that felt so deeply wrong inside him. He felt like there was something missing – some irreplaceable part of Atsumu that came back to haunt him after trying to fill the gap and bury it away for so long. He looked around the locker room and realized he was the only one there, prompting him to widen his eyes and bang the back of his head into his locker. As much as he wanted to deny it, Atsumu couldn’t keep lying to himself.
He missed his brother. He missed playing volleyball with Osamu, and he missed celebrating a win with him while bickering about who did most of the work in the match. He missed Inarizaki and he missed all the moments that Atsumu took for granted all the way back then. He missed sharing his passion with his brother, and he missed spending almost every hour of the day training with Osamu and everybody else. This was the first official match without him – and Atsumu felt filthy. He felt wrong for making such a spectacle of his win without Osamu by his side, and he felt wrong because he knew this win would’ve been so much more monumental had Osamu been by his side on the court to experience it. He just wanted to be with Osamu again, and there was no one but him who could soothe Atsumu’s aching heart. He went back to feeling like he absolutely needed Osamu all over again. No matter how much he grew and no matter how much he changed, there was no forgetting Osamu and the way he’d spike so deadpan yet so effortlessly.
Normally, Atsumu would’ve probably been all for the theatrics and post-match celebrations with everyone. However – he found some sort of excuse not to join in and left early, looking down as he tightly gripped the straps of his bag. He felt childish for being so hung up over Osamu, but he really, really couldn’t help it. He wanted to continue evolving and changing with his new team, but there was something that was difficult to swallow about the fact that Osamu couldn’t be with him to face that future. Atsumu could almost feel his eyes watering, but he didn’t want to start bawling over his brother. He didn’t want to be the same kid that he was all the way back then when Osamu told him he wanted to quit playing volleyball.
Atsumu felt a kick to the back of his knees, and right when he was about to yell at whoever did it – he soon realized it was Osamu himself who delivered it. “The first match ended up being your first win. You’ve stepped up your game, ‘Tsumu,” commented Osamu. He smiled and put his hands on his hips, looking towards the sunset. “You play a lot better than you did back in highschool. Was I holding you back?” teased Osamu, pulling out riceballs from his bag and handing them to Atsumu. He ate them and answered his brother’s question with his mouth full – agitating Osamu over the lack of manners. “Of course you weren’t. Wasn’t your whole schtick that I was the one preventing you from anything?” responded Atsumu, grumbling. “...And now that’s where you’re wrong. Like always. Idiot,” started Osamu, sighing as he continued to monologue, “it wasn’t you. It never was you – and you’re wrong for thinking that. I was the one holding myself back in the same way that it was you who did all this… growing and playing without me playing next to you. You did well and you’re gonna continue to do well, because if you really hated playing without me that much you would’ve also quit. And besides, you’re talking as if I’ve ever even considered leaving you. I never did,” finished Osamu. He was always a man of few words, but he knew what to say and how to say it when the time called for it. Atsumu paused for a few moments, staring at Osamu in the eyes speechless. “...I hate when you’re right. I’m just gonna quit volleyball to spite you now,” joked Atsumu. Osamu rolled his eyes and snickered when Atsumu was too focused on his food to dwell on much else.
“Forget about back then. I’m still here,” scolded Osamu. The two began walking to the team’s bus side-by-side with one another, chatting about nonsense and catching up on all the things they’ve missed out on during the days they didn’t really talk with one another. When Atsumu got to the bus, he put his fist to Osamu’s chest and grinned. “You won’t even know who I am the next time we meet up, ‘Samu. Forget about the memories of me and look at what I’m gonna become!” hollered Atsumu, a wide smile on his face. Osamu facepalmed and laughed along with his brother, unable to keep that unfazed facade any longer. “That’s what I’ve been doing. Get your own head in the game,” replied Osamu.
The Miya Twins waved each other goodbye from the moving bus's window, promising each other to change yet again before the next time they meet.