Chapter Text
Miya Atsumu was happy.
The MSBY Black Jackals were about to face off with the Schweiden Alders for the last time this season, and whoever emerged the victor will be this year’s champions. The Adlers had defended the crown these past years, but Atsumu knew they could drag it back from their stiff fingers.
The match is in Tokyo this time. Onigiri Miya had a stall there again, but Osamu said he’d let his staff man it so he could watch with their parents in the stands. Atsumu gave them front row seats. Even Kita.
A few days after talking — and playing — it out with Osamu, he met up with his parents, in a quieter restaurant. He told them how scared he was back then, thinking they’d side with Osamu, how it angered him wherever they'd bring him up, how betrayed he felt seeing them again with Kita, like his feelings didn’t matter to them at all.
He told them the truth of how he struggled, how alone he’d been until his teammates managed to get him to open up, how he missed Osamu but hated him too, how he wished he never had a twin because a lot of his problems would probably be non-existent.
His mother had dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “I’m sorry, Atsumu. Just — you seemed so fine. You were always the more emotional twin, but also the more headstrong. We never had to worry too much about you, we always knew you’d be just fine. And we saw how Osamu completely broke down, and we just — I don’t know. Felt like he needed us more, maybe. And that was wrong of us.”
“You know, we’d all watch your games together,” his father said. “And we’d all cheer for you. You looked so at home in the court, and you looked happy. I figured, if you were doing so well...that you didn’t need us anymore. And you never came back to us either.”
Atsumu swallowed the lump in his throat. “But I did need you. I just didn’t think there was anything to come back to.”
And finally, Atsumu talked to Kita, alone and in person.
This time there were no tears, and no mean words from Atsumu. After making the decision to try to forgive his brother, the rest came easier.
“I wasn’t the one you needed, and I knew it even then,” Kita had smiled sadly. “But I should have talked to you instead of bottling it in. That exploded in our faces in the worst way possible.”
“Are you happy?” Atsumu wanted to know.
Kita’s smile brightened. “Yes. I am. We are. Especially now that you’ve made up with Samu...I’ve never seen him happier. Like a huge load was taken off him.”
“I forgive you too, Kita. It’s...I’m not gonna lie, the whole thing nearly destroyed me but.” He sighed. “I can’t let this drag me down anymore. It’s fucking annoying.”
Tears were in Kita’s eyes again. “Atsumu..thank you.” He sniffled. “These past years, we felt so...It’s a complicated kind of love between me and Osamu. Something we had to bear.” He shook his head. “But that’s our problem. Now, listen. I was never going to be able to keep up with you. But if I’m not mistaken, there’s someone who can. Who does.”
Atsumu stared at him wide-eyed.
“Running away and hiding isn’t like you, Tsumu. You always went after what you want with relentless passion. I saw how you looked at him. You shouldn’t let what happened with us hold you back. I would feel...extremely crappy if we made you even more unhappy.”
In a few moments they were going to walk out into the stadium. From their spot in the tunnel leading out the court, he could hear announcements over the speakers and the loud cheers from the unprecedentedly large crowd.
But all he could look at was Sakusa. Because now that he’s making an effort to let go of the past, it was as if he could see clearer. He felt lighter, surer.
He felt more like himself than he’s ever been before. Like all the scars he’d amassed, tiny and large, have finally settled into his skin, and he was proud to bear them.
Sakusa was staring into the court in concentration, mindlessly stretching his wrists.
Is there any better time than now?
Atsumu stalked closer to him, not stopping even when Sakusa looked at him quizzically, or even when Sakusa stumbled back into the wall. He pressed his body against his.
“We’re going to win,” Atsumu said intently.
Sakusa stared at him. Slowly, he said, “Yes.”
“And then we’re going to go on a date.”
Dark eyes widened imperceptibly. Then. “Yes.”
That was all Atsumu needed. He reached up, gripped Sakusa’s shoulders, and dragged him down into a kiss. Sakusa kissed back like he was drowning and Atsumu was oxygen, his hands coming up to grip Atsumu’s waist.
Somewhere in the mess that was his brain, Atsumu picked out a thought: Finally. Then, I think I could want this for the rest of my life.
When the speakers announced that they were introducing the Adlers that Atsumu pulled away.
“Later,” he panted.
Flushed, Sakusa could only say “Yes” again. It was all Atsumu could do to stop himself from kissing him again. It felt like the start of an addiction.
Mustering as much strength as he could manage, Atsumu stepped away from Sakusa. Then he faced his team, who were rendered silent and somewhat horrified.
“We’re in love,” Atsumu announced.
“Well, we knew that,” Meian said.
Bokuto’s eyes were wide. “Who knew that? Were we supposed to know that? Holy crap!”
Hinata looked like he was going to faint, hand on a wall keeping him upright. Inunaki had his hands over his mouth.
Then they had to go.
When Coach Foster met them out in the court after they were all announced, he took one look at their faces, some pale, some red, and said, “I don’t want to know. Just go out there and play good volleyball.”
And they did.
--
They never played better.
Sakusa was on fire. He tooled block after block, and his serves spun off anyone who tried to receive them, until they had to delegate Ushijima Wakatoshi to receive it. He was magnificent to watch.
His unflagging drive infected the whole team as they did the familiar dance of passing and spiking the ball. The pressure was stifling. They all thrived.
And then it was time for Atsumu to serve. He counted four steps and the crowd silenced. People were probably anticipating his hybrid, so he blew them away with a jump serve so hard, the sound of it hitting the opposite court was probably heard by the whole stadium. Just to remind them that his jumpers were still deadly as ever.
Then he followed it up with hybrids that racked them enough points that the Adlers called a time-out again.
“You guys are on fire today,” their coach said, impressed. “Keep doing whatever you’re doing. Sakusa, you especially are in fine form.”
There was choked laughter from the rest of the team. Foster didn’t ask.
He thought that the first match of the season was the best game he’s ever played. He was wrong.
This, surrounded by everyone he loves while he does what he loves, was the best ever.
--
They win the game.
--
After the awarding ceremony and the media interviews and the selfie-taking, the Black Jackals walked out of their locker room to head to their bus, high on their victory.
Their laughter was cut off by another “Eep!” from Hinata and they all stopped.
Waiting for them outside the empty stadium was Osamu...and the former members of the Inarizaki High School Volleyball Club. Including Kita. His parents stood further away, on the sidelines.
For a beat, no one moved. Then Osamu called out, “Congrats, brother.”
Atsumu made his way slowly at his twin, and the latter met him halfway for a careful hug that only got tighter the longer it went. He could practically feel everyone’s relief.
When they let go, Atsumu took a deep breath and faced his old team.
“Hey guys,” he said weakly.
He was met with a punch to the face that made him stagger a couple steps back. Reflexes quick as ever, Osamu caught his shoulder in a tight grip, bracing him.
There was a bit of commotion as the rest of the team held back Suna, who was cursing up a storm. “Four years!” he was screaming. “You ghosted us for four damn years! You wouldn’t even look at us when we’d face you in official matches!”
Atsumu raised his hands placatingly. “Okay! Okay, I deserved that. I’m sorry, alright? I was going through some shit!”
Kita cleared his throat and their old conditioning kicked in. They all stood to attention.
“That’s enough of that. Atsumu’s sorry, Osamu’s sorry, I’m sorry. Everyone is sorry. Suna, no more punching.”
"I'm not sorry,” Suna muttered, but he was calmer. Then he threw himself at Atsumu for a hug. Atsumu was unprepared for it and they fell to the floor laughing. The rest of the team piled over them shouting.
He heard Meian ask, “Is this normal…? Should we save him?”
In a long-suffering tone, Kita said, “It’s normal.”
By the time they were all upright, he wasn’t the only one tear-eyed. He got claps on the back and mutters of “Good game,” and “Wicked serve,” and “I always knew you were a monster, Atsumu.”
“So...we’re having a celebratory dinner tonight,” Atsumu said, gesturing back to his team. “If you’re staying in Tokyo, you should all join us.”
Bokuto yelled, “Hey, hey, hey! The more the merrier!” There was a smattering of agreement from either side.
Atsumu glanced over at his parents, who looked like they were crying.
“You too, Mom, Dad.” They smiled at him and nodded.
“Well…” he started walking backwards, and couldn’t help but remember that fateful afternoon, four months ago, when he saw his family waiting for him after the game. So much has changed.
He blindly reached out a hand behind him and it was immediately enveloped by the familiar fingers of Sakusa.
“See ya!” he told his family and friends, grinning happily. Then they walked away.
They’ll all see each other soon.