Chapter Text
Everyday Aran ponders the question of what exactly he must have done in a past life to anger the gods such that he’d be punished with the existence of the Miya twins. Because surely it must have been truly horrific for him to be burdened with the antics of Hyougo’s best players and absolute worst teammates.
Surprising absolutely no one, Atsumu and Osamu managed to prove themselves enough to earn starting positions by the end of April in their first year. This guaranteed they’d be on the starting lineup for the upcoming Inter-High. Unfortunately, earning their spots meant they had supplanted Inarizaki’s former third year starting setter and the self-proclaimed third year ace.
The twins have been, to a word: insufferable. Or at least Atsumu has. Osamu has been trying to be somewhat quiet and chagrined about the act of displacing two third years, but it just took Atsumu picking at his brother to reveal what Osamu really thought. If Aran had 100 yen for every time the twins have used the word ‘scrub’ maliciously (Atsumu) or accidentally (Osamu) in the five weeks since they’d joined the team, Aran would have enough money to buy everyone on the team new court shoes.
(Though if pressed, Aran might admit that he was kind of glad Atsumu had taken the old setter’s spot. He liked to call Aran “gaijin” when tossing to him, despite being corrected numerous times that Aran had in fact been born here in Kobe.)
(Aran will never admit this out loud, lest it encourages them, but he’d been grateful for Atsumu after he joined the team. During a scrimmage early on in the term the old setter had used the ‘nickname’. In a truly uncharacteristic move, Atsumu caught the ball in the middle of a play, face screwed up in rage, demonstrating his willingness to pick a fight with anyone, including the then starting setter. Atsumu likely would have been on the starting lineup earlier in the term, but that explosive display set him back just a bit.)
(Aran hasn’t been called “gaijin” in weeks)
There Aran had been before the start of his second year, excited at the prospect of once again playing with the indomitable Miya twins. They were his friends. Sort of. Challenging and oftentimes selfish friends, but they also loved volleyball just as much as he did. They’d helped lead Yako Middle, their junior high, to nationals last year. Aran had been naively optimistic about how much more mature the twins would get upon entering high school. He really should have known better. Atsumu wouldn’t change for anyone or anything except volleyball, and Osamu was secretly just as obnoxious, he just hid it better under a veneer of bored disinterest.
Worse yet, making the starting lineup barely a month into their time at Inarizaki confirmed the worst biases in the twins. That they were better than everyone else, even in the middle of their growth spurts, when they should have been awkward and gawky in their movements on the court. Osamu at least affixed a ‘-senpai’ when he addressed his upperclassmen. When confronted by the third year backup setter, incensed at Atsumu’s audacity to exist and displace him, Atsumu had just shrugged with a bored look on his face and said “Suck less then”.
Aran has stopped three scuffles since their addition to the starting lineup, and he‘s pretty sure he won’t survive another whole year of this. His only saving grace is that miraculously, Kita Shinsuke terrifies the twins. Kita alone stood vigilant, their last bastion ensuring that the Miya twins paid their dues cleaning up the gym after practice like the first years that they were.
Atsumu had initially tried to beg off, explicitly because he was a starter now, mouthing off about how the benchwarming scrubs could handle it. But Kita had just stared at him, until Atsumu started to squirm, and then Kita disappeared into the storage room to grab a broom, thrusting it into Atsumu’s hands.
“Am I a scrub Atsumu-san?” Kita asked calmly, face placid.
Atsumu had reared back, clutching the broom in front of him, face red, sweating more than he had been after finishing drills “No! Of course not!” Voice cracking only a little, putting his head down and getting to work. It only took Kita staring at the twins for a little too long to get them to wilt and fall in line, if however briefly. Aran was grateful for the power of Kita Shinsuke every single day.
“Kita-senpai” Osamu called, only half finished picking up balls strewn around the court. Kita turned to look at him from where he was scrubbing down the ball carts with a cloth, not that he needed to as a second year, he apparently just liked cleaning “Uh, me ‘n ‘Sumu were gonna go watch our old middle school play in the Inter-Middle Tournament. Can we leave early?” Atsumu loomed over Osamu’s shoulder, watching intently for his answer.
When they stood close like that it was really hard to tell them apart, especially with near matching facial expressions. Aran had once fantasized about putting colourful clips in each of their hair to help distinguish them. He was getting better at realizing who was who on the court, he just wished there was a better, quicker visual marker to distinguish them. Maybe headbands? If Aran wore one too, would the twins?
From across the gym their third year captain scoffed loudly, once again irritated that the twins would only deign to be respectful to Kita. Or maybe it was they were asking a second year for permission to leave, and not their captain. It seemed to Aran like maybe the captain and vice captain had washed their hands of managing the twins, and they still had another 11 months in the term.
Kita tilted his head, his expression made of still waters as he contemplated the request “When does the game start?”
“45 minutes.” Atsumu said eagerly, abandoning all pretenses that he was wiping down the floors.
“You can run fast, you’ll make it after you finish cleaning.” Kita said, turning back to his task.
“But we want to cheer on our juniors!” Atsumu whined petulantly.
Aran blinked in surprise. Really? For a very brief moment Aran was unbelievably touched. He knew Osamu had been captain for Yako Middle last year, with Atsumu as vice captain. To think they’d grown enough to want to support their underclassmen! He remembered the way little Riseki Heisuke had mooned after the twins when Aran had been captain at Yako in his third year. To think, they’d go to support their old team, just like Aran had for the twins and everyone else last year.
With a smile on his face Aran held up a hand “I’ll help you guys” He said jogging over, basking in the beaming smiles the twins gave him “Wouldn’t want you to be late”
Aran still has no idea why he keeps letting himself be taken in by these two awful gremlins.
No sooner had they finished putting the balls away and sweeping the floor had the twins darted into the changeroom to pull on their tracksuits. Without missing a beat Aran overheard Atsumu say “Oh man, I can’t wait to see Heisuke-kun’s face when we heckle him” And Osamu laughed as they beat a hasty retreat towards the gym doors.
Aran darted in front of them blocking off the doors so they couldn’t leave, holding his hands out. “Wait, what do you mean heckle him?”
The twins blinked in unison and for half a second Aran forgot which one was which, before Osamu tilted his head “We’re gonna go cheer for Yako Middle”
Aran pointed an accusing finger at the other twin “Atsumu just said you’re going to heckle Riseki-kun”
Atsumu bobbed his head in a nod “Yeah, we’re gonna go support the ‘ole team, by lettin’ ‘em have it” He gave a lopsided grin.
Pressing his hands to his forehead, Aran gave a pained sigh “How is that support?”
“Y’know, like ya did fer us last year.” Osamu just looked plain confused to be having this conversation.
Aran gave an affronted huff. He had not gone to watch his old team to heckle them last year. He’d gone to support and cheer for them! Like a good former captain ought to! Like he thought the twins were doing! “I didn’t heckle you guys last year. I went to cheer you on!”
The twins squinted at him, tilting their heads in unison which was just a bit creepy before Atsumu spoke “Yeah, that’s just not our style”
“Yeah” Osamu agreed.
“Everyone would think something was wrong with us if we went and just cheered for ‘em”
“Or think we became scrubs in high school”
Atsumu’s lip curls at the suggestion “Yeah, we ain’t lame”
Aran stepped out of their way, wiping a hand down his face. The twins cheered, both of them smacking Aran’s shoulder and trotting out of the gym. Off to go menace a bunch of poor middle schoolers who did absolutely nothing to deserve this.
Kita approached him after they’d long since left, Aran still staring forlornly at the door that clattered closed behind the two most insufferable people Aran had ever met. Aran looked down at his friend and heaved a sigh “Can you remind me of this the next time I offer to help them with anything?”
Kita gives his shoulder a gentle pat “We all learn hard lessons to carry with us into the future”
Aran squints his eyes at Kita “Was that a yes, or...”
Kita just smiles enigmatically and walked away, off to go thoroughly clean another surface.
Grumbling under his breath, Aran turns to follow him “Damn Shinsuke...” He needs to make sure Kita doesn’t stay too late cleaning again.
“Ya ever heard of this school Yako Middle is playin’ Sumu?”
Climbing up the ladder to the upper viewing area behind his brother, Atsumu lifts himself up to the elevated platform before answering “Nope” He says, popping the ‘p’.
They find spots along the rail near the middle of the court. The only other people here watching are a few intense looking parents with little kids sitting on the ground at their feet, and some of the first year reserve players for Yako Middle, by the look of the fear on their faces and the size of their tiny frail little preteen bodies.
There’s no seats to be had and Atsumu kinda wished they’d waited until tomorrow or Sunday to attend a game in the main gymnasium with actual bleachers. But then he’d be watching middle school volleyball on his day off and that sounded lame. So instead they’re in one of those sad cast off gyms not even fit to play basketball in, let alone a game of volleyball. Resigned to standing after a hard practice, Atsumu uses the railing as leverage to get a good stretch in his calves. He pointedly ignores the glares and scoffs from grumpy-ass parents sent his way for blocking the path as he stretched.
Six kids, sans coach and no subs walk out onto the court to represent the no name Yukigaoka Junior High. Atsumu had never heard of them before, and he’d been pretty obsessive about memorizing all the names of schools he’d seen attend the Inter-Middle back in the day. Just on the off chance that there’d be some freaky good player he’d have to worry about down the road. Better to know where new potential rivals came from. Yukigaoka had never been on any tournament listing he’d ever seen. They must really suck.
Sometimes Atsumu thinks himself a prophet. He sees right away as they start warming up, this isn’t a team of volleyball players. There isn’t a decent player in the group of them, except maybe their ludicrously tiny orange haired captain, who would otherwise be a scrub by any other definition, but looks amazing next to his amateur peers. Why the fuck were these kids even here? They were basically going to be meat pilons for Yako Middle to crush.
Atsumu groans audibly, pressing his forehead into the railing after watching the tallest boy on the scrub team fumble the easiest, most basic overhand pass. He’d seen six year olds who could do better “Augh, Samu let’s go, this is going to be worthless” He says it loudly, earning him glares from the parents around him.
What a waste of an afternoon. He could have stayed late at practice and worked on alternating hits and sets with Osamu, something he’d been meaning to try more of. Their own team often had trouble telling them apart, so he imagined other high school teams would be deeply frustrated trying to figure out which of the two of them was the setter on the court. Even if their numbers gave it away, a moment's hesitation was all Atsumu needed to exploit the blockers.
Instead he’s here to watch his old team that he doesn’t give a shit about play a group of nothing players, wasting his time. Osamu had been the one who wanted to go in the first place. Trying to emulate that image of being a nice and cool upperclassman that Aran had in spades. Which was lame as hell. Osamu had pointed out to him that a number of these kids were likely going to Inarizaki next year, so it might be good to scope out new potential hitters and middle blockers.
Osamu had whined and cajoled and eventually settled for bribing Atsumu with ice cream to get him to come. Partially because Osamu was smart enough to know that Atsumu had a good eye for assessing skills, and partly because Osamu would need SOMEONE to give his running scathing commentary to. It had to be Atsumu that came with him ‘cause Osamu couldn’t bear for anyone to know that he was as “honest” as Atsumu sometimes. Osamu was so fake, jeez.
Though Atsumu was fully intending to exploit this deal, grabbing a tub of strawberry ice cream from the konbini later because Osamu hadn’t specified spending totals or size before they’d agreed. Atsumu had learned long ago to take miles for every inch given.
Osamu was giving him an unimpressed look before sighing “Yeah, but Heisuke-kun already saw us” It had almost been cute the way little Riseki had flushed with delight and waved at them enthusiastically when he noticed them up in the viewing deck. Osamu turned his flat stare to the group of six scrubs opposite Yako Middle “This’ll be over in half an hour anyways”
Atsumu snorted a laugh, smirking as the teams shook hands. If it even took that long.
Riseki was probably less excited about the twins being there when after three service aces in a row, he knocked one into the net and Atsumu had loudly called “Goony!” And Osamu had laughed and booed in agreement. The first set was over in just over ten minutes. Atsumu and Osamu calling plays like they saw them, being brutally honest and having a great time beaking at the players on both sides of the net. At least at first, it got kind of boring and repetitive to heckle a bunch of babies who sucked as much as Yukigaoka did.
It was pathetic really. Yukigaoka couldn’t receive for shit, so anytime the ball came to their side of the net, 90% of the time it stayed there. The few times they managed to get the ball up they were so flustered and panicked that they couldn’t do much in the way of attacking, sending hail mary’s over the net, only to have it spiked right back at them.
The worst of it was watching the futile effort from the tiny orange haired kid. He looked so fiercely determined the whole time, trying to keep the spirits up on his nothing team, cheering loudly and offering supportive shoulder pats, like a good little captain. He’d also demonstrated a tremendous amount of hustle on the court the entire time his team was slaughtered. Watching him sprint as hard as he could to dive for balls out of his reach almost stirred something in Atsumu’s chest. Probably indigestion. Or maybe he was just hungry.
Just last week Atsumu had gotten into it with one of the regular third years, an uppity middle blocker who’d lazily loped after a one touch, not bothering to run after the ball. It resulted in Atsumu’s squad for the scrimmage losing the point, and ending his serving streak. Atsumu had snapped at the asshole, letting him know that was unacceptable, you don’t get to play that way on his team. It had taken Aran, Osamu, Kita, and Oomimi to stop Atsumu from getting decked by his bigger teammate, but Atsumu didn’t give a shit. There was nothing Atsumu hated more than lazy play, and he would call them like he saw them.
This kid had hustle and drive. Just not a lot in the way of talent. He could jump too. One of the few points Yukigaoka had managed to score for itself had been a pretty ugly block, the Yako Middle spiker unprepared for a five foot nothing kid to be in his face as he was swinging.
Osamu snorted when he saw it “Shit, I mighta been tripped up by that too” The kid had an insane vertical. But it didn’t stop him from sucking.
The second set was shaping up to run out even faster, Yukigaoka players all seeming to deflate. All except the orange haired shorty. Hell, even when the Yako Middle setter had made a snide comment Atsumu definitely would have said himself last year, about getting the game done quickly so they could go home and eat, Mr. Orange Hair had interrupted him.
“But we haven’t lost yet” Delivered bluntly, like it was obvious. Atsumu could just barely hear it over the restless and bored mumbles of the gymnasium. From his vantage he had the best view of the haunting expression on the kids’ face. Something about it made the hair on the back of Atsumu’s neck prickle. He was so dead serious, so determined.
It was true. The kid said the truth. He articulated something Atsumu wanted to beat into his teammates' heads, including even Osamu sometimes. Even when you were playing someone weaker than you, you needed to go all out, because at any moment they could rip victory from your fingers if you weren’t ready for them. There are no half ass plays. Only good plays and bad ones. And this shitty little orange haired amateur had said it to a team that had taken the first set in just over ten minutes. The gall. The righteousness. The truth.
Shit. Atsumu might be touched. He burbled a laugh, making Osamu look at him in confusion. “Doesn’t feel right to laugh at him ‘Sumu” Atsumu just shook his head, cradling his chin in his hand as he watched the rest of the brutal game unfurl beneath him.
It was almost set point when something miraculous happened. One of the Yukigaoka shit players actually managed a receive off of a lazy chance ball from Yako Middle. The ball went forward towards the net, to the tall shitty spiker, who Atsumu could see didn’t have his fingers oriented right. And just like he predicted the ball went sailing behind him in a high arc, despite the short orange haired kid being right where he needed to be for his spike midair. Shame. Atsumu would have liked to see how well he hit.
And then the orange haired kid hit the ground and in a blink and you miss it movement, crossed the width of the court, leaping into a perfect broad jump, his hand connecting with the ball and sending it in a beautiful straight. It was out. He missed. But that had been one of the most incredible plays Atsumu had ever seen in person.
“Uwah!” He and Osamu cried at once, gripping the railing as they leaned forward simultaneously.
“How the hell did he move so fast?” Osamu asked, staring slack jawed at the orange haired kid, apologizing to his team for missing that amazing shot.
“Samu, that was perfect form” Atsumu said back, his eyes wide, watching the teams line up, only to be scored on by another one of Riseki’s service aces, ending the game.
He and Osamu exited the gym to stand outside in the hall, his brother made him wait so they could say hi to their old team and coaches before they could finally leave. As they stood there they watched green uniforms stream out of the gym, most of the faces varying shades of acceptance and self deprecating humour. All except one, the orange haired kid walked out looking flushed and frustrated, his eyes bright with unshed tears.
Atsumu watched him stomp by, his team trailing after him, in wonder. Hadn’t he known that was an inevitable outcome? And he’d still hated to lose. That feeling that wasn’t quite indigestion hit his chest again. Osamu elbowed him when Atsumu failed to snap his gaze away from the retreating back swathed in green.
“Whatcha lookin’ at?”
“Who the heck was that kid?” Atsumu asks.
Osamu just shrugs “Dunno, he wasn't very good, but that last play was nuts. I don’t think Aran-kun could do that”
Atsumu smirked “Yeah, and you definitely couldn’t”
Osamu jabbed a thumb into his side painfully, making Atsumu pull him into a headlock, which is how Riseki found them a minute later, squabbling. They chatted for a bit, Osamu making all the good former captain noises, saying “Good job” this and “I’m proud of you” that. Even though Osamu had been just as mean as Atsumu up in the stands. His brother was so fake sometimes.
“Ya know who that orange haired kid was?” Atsumu asks, jerking his thumb at the entrance to the gymnasium where Yukigaoka had exited earlier. They’d shaken their old coaches' hands, the rest of Yako Middle leaving to go watch a game of their upcoming competition in another gym.
Riseki blinked at him “Uhh, no? Though coach said this was the first time ever that Yukigaoka put together a boys team. I think they’re a baseball school” He said with a shrug.
“Huh” Atsumu continues squinting at the exit. He wonders if he can catch the kid. Without bothering with a goodbye Atsumu walks off towards the exit, not caring if Osamu follows.
He can just barely hear the annoyed sound Osamu makes through the crowd and the “Bye Heisuke-kun, make us proud, don’t lose or ya can’t come play with us next year” And then Osamu is jogging to catch up with him. “The heck are ya doing, ya rude shit?”
Atsumu ignores him, pushing the doors open and scanning the open promenade around the gymnasium. There, near the bike racks, he can see a gaggle of lime green uniforms clustered around someone seated on the stone wall encircling the promenade. He starts making his way forward.
Osamu grips the back of his track jacket, yanking him back “What are ya doing ya creep?”
Atsumu glares over his shoulder, trying and failing to karate chop Osamu to get him to let him go “I just wanna go talk to him” He says, nodding at the orange haired kid, his head and shoulders bowed as his teammates start drifting away on bikes or towards the bus stop. The tiny orange captain stays rooted in place with his head dipped low, shoulders hunched.
Osamu’s face screws up in annoyed confusion “Why?”
Atsumu shrugs “Just cause.” he looks over to see the last kid milling around ole orange hair, fretting as the kid is obviously crying, but turning to leave anyways. Something about that makes Atsumu’s stomach sour in a way he’s not entirely familiar with. Maybe pity? Kid looks kinda lonely. “Arentcha curious?”
“About what?” Osamu balks, finally releasing Atsumu’s jacket.
“I dunno, just curious.” Atsumu says with a shrug and a grin that might be a bit manic. He doesn’t know how to describe the feeling in his chest. Like a giddiness made out of sour grapes that’s threatening to give him heartburn. He’s kind of pissed and he’s not sure why. He wants to know why this little shit with that amazing jump and speed went to a nothing school where he apparently didn’t learn how to do anything but lose.
Atsumu also wonders just how fast he actually is, and just how fast Atsumu can toss the ball that he’ll still hit it.
So he makes his way down the steps, shoving his hands in his pockets as he walks over to the low stone wall the orange haired kid is perched on. Atsumu was right, the kid is crying, plops of tears dotting the pavement under him where his head is bowed. He can feel his brother standing behind him as he stops short, a few feet from the kid.
“Hey.”
The kid sniffles but doesn’t lift his head. Annoyed, Atsumu takes a step forward and snaps his fingers “Oi, you, with the freaky jump.”
This gets his attention, the kid tilts his head up, tears streaked down his face to stare in confusion at Atsumu, his gaze sliding over his shoulder to where Osamu must be. He blinks hard, does a double take, wipes at his eyes and then does another double take “Uh, are there two of you?”
Atsumu smirks, glancing over at his brother who is trying to look resolutely bored. He flicks a finger from his face to over his shoulder where Osamu stands “Twins” He smirk goes a bit smarmy (at least that’s how his mom describes it) “The Miya twins” he says with a flick of his eyebrows. It must be obvious, with their Inarizaki track jackets and all.
The kid stares blankly at him, not recognizing the name in the slightest. “Uh, okay.” He sniffs again, his crying ceasing as his brows scrunch up in confusion.
Now it’s Atsumu’s turn to blink. He casts a dubious look at Osamu who rolls his eyes at him. Who plays volleyball in Hyougo and doesn’t know about the Miya twins? Atsumu frowns at the kid.
“You haven’t heard of us?” That sounded really lame, and he direly wishes he could take that back. Should have turned that question into an insult, like what kinda chump doesn’t know about the Miya twins? No, that’s still pretty lame.
“Uh, no.” The kid cringes, looking around, like he’s looking for an adult to help him. Or maybe for an opportunity to flee.
“Are you a first year?” Atsumu asks in confusion. That must be it. He is awfully small.
And then the orange haired kid’s face screws up with undisguised rage as he pushes to a stand, glaring up at Atsumu “No, I’m a third year” He snarls.
Atsumu raises his brows, stopping himself at the last second from taking a step back. For a pipsqueak he’s got an awful lot of presence. He hears Osamu snort behind him, so his brother definitely noticed the sway Atsumu just did. Great.
“What do you want? Have you come to make fun of me some more?” The orange haired kid asks, his face now flushed in anger, his jaw set as he clenches his fists at his side.
“Make fun?”
“I could hear you up in the stands, you... you... Big jerk!” The orange haired kid snarls again, his chest heaving. Osamu guffaws behind him. That insult obviously took a lot out of the kid. It was almost endearing, in a pathetic kind of way.
“Yer not from Hyougo, are ya?” Osamu asks, stepping forward to stand next to Atsumu.
The kid frowns, his fingers tug at his green jersey as he looks away “I moved here a few months ago.”
“Yeah, ya don’t have the accent, or seem very familiar with kansai hospitality.” Osamu says dryly.
The kid frowns “Kansai hospitality?”
“Here we like to heckle our teams, ta let ‘em know we care.” Osamu gives him a lopsided grin.
“That doesn’t seem very nice.” The kid says dubiously.
Atsumu snorts “Yeah, welcome to Hyougo.”
The kid scowls at him “People have been plenty nice to me, if they weren’t I wouldn’t have had my team-” And then he cuts himself off, pressing his lips together as his eyes cast downwards with the agony of his loss again. Atsumu notes distantly that his eyes are very expressive.
“Yeah, what the hell was that? Didn’t look like ya had a volleyball player in the bunch of ya.” Osamu says, putting his hands in his pockets as he shakes his head.
Hurt and anger flicker over the guy’s face, before he turns his watery glare to Osamu “I play volleyball!” He growls defiantly, tipping his chin up.
Atsumu’s grin is teasing “Ya sure about that? ‘Cause from where we were standin’ it kinda looked like ya didn’t know whatcha were doin’ either.”
The kids’ face flushes hot and the tears that had been in his eyes a moment ago disappear, and his eyes take on an eerie intensity as he looks at Atsumu. Same way they had when he’d bluntly informed Yako Middle the game wasn’t over yet “I’m a volleyball player” He’s incredibly still. Atsumu hadn’t realized how much motion the kid was doing, with fluttering hands and twisting fingers and rolling feet, until he stopped moving altogether. Spooky.
He and Osamu both almost take an involuntary step back, glancing at each other in surprise. “Sure, ya might like to be a volleyball player, but fer now yer receives are awful, ya can’t serve fer shit, ya got no sense of the court, I don’t think ya know what an overhand pass is.” Atsumu is enumerating on his fingers blithely, watching agitated twitches come back into the kid’s motions.
“And volleyball is a team sport, doesn’t look like ya got much of a team.” Osamu adds, bored.
The kid bows his head, staring at the ground. They can see the tips of his ears are red, his fists clenched at his sides. He mumbles something the twins don’t quite catch.
“Huh?”
His head snaps up and he looks furious even as his eyes shine with fresh tears “I don’t have a team at all! They quit on me, said it wasn’t fun to lose like that-” And then he snaps his mouth shut, clenching his jaw and looking away. Atsumu feels goosebumps prickle on the back of his neck, and he needs to stop himself from clamping a hand down at the sensation.
The kid heaves a sigh “And now I won’t get to play again until high school.” He says in a small bitter voice.
It is without a doubt the single most pathetic thing Atsumu has ever heard in his life. Which is the excuse he will use when Osamu asks him about it later, that he was taking pity on the saddest boy in the world. And that he hadn’t gotten enough setting practice in today. That’s all. Nothing else. Weird indigestion be damned.
Atsumu shifts forward, ignoring the surprised look Osamu shoots him, and tosses an arm around the kid's shoulder. Shorty stiffens immediately. “Alright, c’mon.” Atsumu says, tugging the kid back towards the gymnasium.
Shorty digs in his heels and tries to pull at Atsumu’s arm “Wait, what, are you kidnapping me?”
“Yeah, are you?” Osamu asks, confused.
“No dummies,” Atsumu clicks his tongue, offended “We’re going to sneak into a gym so I can toss for ya”
The kid ceases all struggles, going lax, allowing himself to be dragged forward. After a moment he asks softly “Really?”
Osamu echoes the question, walking in step with Atsumu on his other side, a profoundly concerned look on his face. Atsumu sniffs “Yeah, I wanna see that crazy broad jump again” The kid squirms beneath his arm, he keeps pace with Atsumu all the same. His eyes are wide with surprise, but there’s a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, timid as it is.
“I guess.” Osamu grumbles dubiously.
Turns out the only free gym was the one Yukigaoka just got smoked in, which might be awkward but Atsumu doesn’t give a shit. The next game’s warm ups won’t start in here for 45 minutes. Plenty of time before they get yelled at. Atsumu produces a ball from his bag, turning to look down at the kid. Osamu sits against the wall, a look of profound confusion and bored irritation on his face. Atsumu unzips his track jacket and flings it at his brother, smiling at the irritation on his face.
“Alright, so...” Atsumu squints at the kid “What’s yer name anyways?”
Big brown eyes blink at him, and then he digs his toe into the ground shyly “Hinata Shouyou”
“Right, Shouyou-kun-”
Hinata is staring at him wide eyed, managing to squeak in surprise “S-Shouyou-kun...?”
Atsumu’s brows pinch “It’s yer name ain’t it?”
“Isn’t that kinda overly familiar?” Hinata asks, mouth pressed together as his cheeks flush.
Atsumu shrugs “Whatever, I’m yer senpai” Osamu scoffs from his spot at the wall, but Atsumu magnanimously chooses to ignore him.
“Shouyou-kun,” And the way Hinata’s expression vacillates between pleased and embarrassed when Atsumu says it, means he’s going to keep using ‘Shouyou-kun’ forever “You line up over there, throw the ball to me, and I’ll letcha hit it nice and easy” He says, grin growing wide and toothy.
Hinata does as he’s told, but pauses, flicking an anxious glance between Osamu and Atsumu, clutching the ball to his stomach protectively “Are you sure?”
Atsumu snorts “Wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t” He says simply, gesturing for Hinata to toss to him. When Hinata smiles at him bright and wide, his grin taking up most of his face as his eyes crinkle and his cheeks flush with delight, Atsumu can’t help but smile back at him.
The first hit isn’t great. Nor are the next five. Hinata is fast, and Atsumu’s tosses can match him easily, but his timing in the air is, well, amateur hour would be generous. Atsumu finds himself getting frustrated because Hinata hasn’t managed to nail a single good spike, only managing two dinks and a bunch of misses. And Atsumu hates when people miss his tosses. Hates it more than anything. The only reason he hasn’t yelled yet is because of the eager smile on Hinata’s face, which is annoyingly infectious. That and his bright eyes as he looks at Atsumu hopefully, demanding “One more try!”
Thankfully Osamu has had enough. He pushes to a stand “I can’t take this anymore. Just watch me, jeez” He doesn’t bother taking off his track jacket as he meanders over to Hinata, shooing him away, taking the ball and giving Atsumu a challenging glare as he flings it into the air. Atsumu grins, taking his challenge, throwing up a flashy back set close to the antenna, pleased when he sees the nice and sharp cross slam into the ground on the other side.
He’s about to give Osamu a backhanded compliment when Hinata is jumping in between them, his face manically happy as he hops up and down, with his hands clenched in front of him. “That was so cool!” He says looking up at Osamu “The way you nailed that was so perfect, like a real pro, I’ve never seen a cross shot like that in person before and you were like WAAHH! And then SCHWOOM and FWAM! You’re amazing!”
Atsumu watches the flicker of surprise turn to confusion on Osamu’s face before it settles into a pleased little grin, turning his nose up in the air, looking all self satisfied. Atsumu is about to open his mouth to complain that his toss was pretty good too thanks, when Hinata whirls on him.
“And your tosses are amazing! They’re so precise and fast! And the way you did that back set, oh my gosh, I’ve never seen anything like it, you make it look so easy!” Hinata’s eyes are practically sparkling as he stares up at Atsumu, before he tips his face up to the ceiling and he lets out a big whooshing breath with his eyes closed “You guys are so good” He gives a shake of his head, marvelling at that fact.
Atsumu’s chest does the indigestion thing again, though this time it’s a bit more squirmy. There’s something about the way Hinata doles out compliments that makes Atsumu want more of them. Kinda like his granny’s cookies and Atsumu has always been very greedy. Hinata is so genuine in his excitement. Just like a little kid. Atsumu wants to match him, wants to keep going forever, doing whatever he has to for these compliment showers to keep coming. Flicking a glance over at Osamu, he suspects his brother might actually feel the same.
“Well yeah, I toldja before, we’re the Miya twins” Atsumu’s grin is a bit lopsided “‘Course we’re good”
Hinata’s grin is wide “Well I know that now!” He looks up at Atsumu hopefully “Could I try one more toss?”
The indigestion feeling is back, but Atsumu ignores that to answer “Yeah, I said I wanna see one of those crazy jumps”
“Do the broad again.” Osamu cuts in, looking at Hinata intently.
“Broad?” Hinata asks, brows furrowed.
“The thing ya did at the end of your game, where you crossed the court” Osamu explains, pointing a finger in an arc across the court. “‘Sumu you can match him, right?”
Atsumu clicks his tongue “Obviously”
Hinata blinks but goes to line up, Osamu tossing up the ball for Atsumu this time so Hinata can focus on jumping and hitting alone “Just go fast and get in position, ‘Sumu will be there to meet ya.” Osamu tells Hinata, who nods seriously in response.
As the ball goes up Atsumu grins “Aww, ‘Samu, yer makin’ me blush”
And then in a smooth and near perfect motion, Atsumu’s fingers send the ball in the perfect trajectory for Hinata to nail midair as he leaps far higher and wider than either of the twins can currently manage. The ball smacks into the center of the court, Hinata having nailed it perfectly. The twins whoop with cheers, Atsumu pleased that he’d placed his serve so perfectly. He’s so good he can even make an amateur like Hinata shine.
Hinata is quiet for a moment staring at his right palm, a weird expression on his face. He lifts his head to look at Atsumu, a brilliant grin pulling across his face “One more toss?” He asks a bit breathlessly.
Atsumu beams back “Oh, we ain’t stopping yet.” Not when that had felt so awesome.
They play for another twenty minutes, Hinata nailing slightly more than half of the tosses he’s given, usually most successful after Osamu demonstrates something. Hinata has a freaky innate ability to work back and translate other’s motions into something he can do with his much smaller body, which is absolutely fascinating. Atsumu would have practiced the night away with this very weird, extremely athletic inexperienced kid, if it weren’t for the fact that the officials for the next game were shooing them out of the gym.
They’re standing on the front steps of the gymnasium, Osamu having just complained he wants ice cream. The twins turn to walk to the nearest konbini when Hinata’s slightly shrill voice calls to them from the top of the stairs “Thank you very much for today Miya Twin-sans!” He says with a low bow.
Atsumu and Osamu blink up at him “Osamu.” his brother says pointing at his own face.
Atsumu points at his own “Atsumu.”
Hinata flushes “I can’t just call you by your first names”
“Sure ya can,” Atsumu stretches his arms up, letting them swing down to his sides “Tell ya what, I’ll letcha call me Atsumu if ya buy me ice cream”
Osamu purses his lips “Do I still have to buy for you-”
“Yes”
Osamu sighs, rolling his eyes.
Hinata fidgets at the top of the stairs, watching them anxiously “It’ll have to be small ice creams, I don’t have a ton of money.”
He and Osamu share a look, damn he’s smart enough to set limits, before shrugging and starting their walk to the nearest shop. Hinata trots after them, seemingly bewildered that he’s still here. After Hinata has paid for their small ice cream bars, and Atsumu has smuggly gone into the cooler to grab a tub of strawberry ice cream, making a very huffy Osamu pay for it - the three of them stand outside eating.
“So when didja move here?” Osamu asks, better at casual conversation than Atsumu.
Hinata blinks “Before Christmas last year.”
Atsumu whistles “Ya managed to put together a team in five months?” Not that it was much of a team, but still.
Hinata flushes, looking away as he shrugs “I owe a lot of people a lot of favours now.”
“Cause ya wanted to play that badly?” Atsumu asks, watching him out of the corner of his eye.
Hinata lifts his head to stare at him, fiery determination in his eyes “Yes.” Atsumu can’t help the smile pulling at his lips. Anything for volleyball.
“Where ya from originally?” Osamu asks around the ice cream stick in his mouth.
“Miyagi.”
He and his brother exchange a look “They got like mountains there and stuff, right?” Osamu asks. Hinata nods.
“They also got Ushiwaka there.” Atsumu points out, and Osamu lifts his brows before nodding.
“What’s an Ushiwaka?”
They stare at Hinata blankly “Seriously?” Atsumu squawks. Hinata shrugs. “One of high school volleyball’s top aces? Ushijima Wakatoshi? He’s pretty famous around all of Japan?” Hinata shakes his head “He’s from yer old prefecture, and ya don’t know about one of the best players in all of Japan?”
“Didja play on yer old volleyball team back in Miyagi?” Osamu asks, curious.
Hinata flushes and shakes his head no “They didn’t have a boys team either. I practiced with the girls team there. And then when I moved, there’s a girls team at my school now, but they think I’m trying to be a creep, so they’ll only let me practice spiking and nothing else with them” He looks frustrated as he says it.
Atsumu would feel for the kid, but if he wanted to play volleyball so bad, why the heck does he keep going to schools with no team? “Then why’re ya going there? If ya can’t play volleyball?” Atsumu asks flatly, done with his ice cream bar, contemplating cracking open the tub of strawberry. But he doesn’t have a spoon...
Hinata flushes again, tipping his head up to scowl at Atsumu “I didn’t really have a choice.”
“Where ya planning on going to high school?” Osamu cuts in before a squabble can start.
“Oh, I haven’t really thought about it, I was kinda too focused on this tournament to give it much thought.” Hinata says with a shrug.
Osamu and Atsumu exchange a significant look, both of them conveying hesitation in what they’re going to say next. After a moment Osamu wrinkles his nose to convey ‘better not’. But Atsumu hates being told what to do so he says “You should come play with us at Inarizaki next year.”
Hinata stares at him blankly for a second “Wait, what?”
Osamu rolls his eyes but Atsumu presses onwards “Yeah, we’re the best team in the prefecture by miles. You should come play with us.”
Hinata’s eyes have gone wide and sparkly again, and Atsumu wonders if he’s about to be the recipient of a compliment shower, but Osamu leans forward to point a finger in Hinata’s face “But ya gotta get good before ya come, or ya won’t even get a tracksuit. Plenty of first years come ta try out and a bunch of ‘em don’t make it.”
Hinata’s expression of delight tapers into something more determined, a slight gleam to his eyes still “Yes! Of course!” He says fervently. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, looking about ready to start bouncing “But if it means I get to play with you guys, I’d do anything.”
Atsumu and Osamu both try and fail to keep their own pleased smiles off their faces, glowering at each other for a moment before turning to Hinata “Ya gotta fix yer receives, and get yer spiking time down, and fix yer court sense, and also yer serves are shit, so-” Atsumu starts enumerating all the things Hinata sucks at, before he pauses taking in Hinata’s expression. “What?”
Hinata is scuffing his shoe into the pavement, looking down at the ground “Do you know how I can work on those things by myself?” He looks ashamed to be asking and Atsumu’s persistent Hinata-indigestion twinges again.
He feels kinda bad for the kid. Moves miles and miles away from his friends to a new place where he doesn’t know anyone, tries to put together a team which failed spectacularly, and even the girls team won’t let him practice with them much. “They got a community team near yer place?”
Hinata averts his gaze, shaking his head “No, I checked.”
Atsumu and Osamu exchange another look, before Osamu heaves a sigh and plops a hand down on Hinata’s head, giving his hair a ruffle. Hinata stills, looking up surprised “‘Sumu is always real annoying about practicing too much, especially on rest days,” Atsumu makes an indignant noise, Osamu could stand to practice harder actually “So having someone else for him to toss to might be good”
Hinata stares up at him wide eyed, flicking his gaze between the twins “What are you saying?”
Osamu shrugs, “Wanna come practice with us on Saturday afternoons and Sundays? Maybe I’ll finally get some peace and quiet.” He muses, rubbing at his chin, a small smile creasing his lips.
“Don’t be so lazy ‘Samu” Atsumu scoffs, eyeing Hinata, who looks like he’s about to start vibrating “Yeah, you can come practice with us, as long as ya work hard,” He tilts his head up to look down his nose at Hinata “I don’t work with scrubs.”
“I don’t know what that is but I’ll try my hardest not to be one!” Hinata says eagerly.
“Good” Atsumu tips his head to look over at Osamu, before he slides his gaze down to Hinata again “If ya get annoying though, yer banned from talking to us”
Hinata nods his head enthusiastically “Okay!”
“And if yer not good enough by next year, yer not allowed to say ya know us.” Osamu adds.
Atsumu nods “Yeah, can’t let anyone think we play with scrubs.”
Hinata nods again, bowing this time “Yes! Anything! I’ll work so hard.”
“So, tomorrow then?” Osamu asks. Atsumu nods. “Ya know how ta get to Inarizaki?”
Hinata shakes his head “I can look it up when I get home! What time?”
Atsumu purses his lips, cutting in before Osamu can say anything “5pm, after our team training session is over. Meet us at gates, we’ll sneak ya in.”
Osamu heaves a sigh “As payment this time, bring us a snack” He says, eyeing Hinata.
Hinata only grins, bobbing his head in a nod “Yeah of course! I’ll bring you something tasty.” He chirps, giving them a thumbs up. And then he looks at his phone for the time and he gasps “Oh no! I need to get home! I have to watch Natsu!” And then he’s so focused on scrambling to throw his garbage out, picking up his bag, not tripping, that he almost forgets to thank the twins.
At the last second before he bolts across the street back to the bike racks he whirls around, bowing deeply again “Thank you so much Atsumu-san and Osamu-san! You made my worst volleyball day ever into the best one!” And then he gives them that bright grin, before darting across the road to collect his bike. He gives them a final wave as he speeds away down the street.
The twins watch him go for a moment before Osamu slides him a look “What?”
Osamu sighs, starting to walk back to the train station so they can get home “I dunno whatcha were thinking.”
“I thought he was kinda nice.” Atsumu says. Osamu gives him a flat stare, making Atsumu snort “Also, it’d be kinda cool to shape spiker exactly as I want him, right?”
Osamu rolls his eyes “Yer not some creepy puppet master, ya drip”
Atsumu grins “If ya wanted to be jealous, ya could always try turning into a setter yerself” Osamu scoffs “Oh, wait, I’m better ‘n you”
“Spiking is cooler anyways.” Osamu huffs “Shouyou-kun, huh?”
Atsumu grins “If he gets annoying we can ignore him easy, you’ll see”
“Sure.” Osamu hums, before eyeing the plastic bag in Atsumu’s hand “Ya gonna share that when we get home?”
Atsumu turns to his twin, a smug grin on his face “Nope” he says popping the p, dodging the swipe Osamu tries to give him.